9. Chance the Nightingale
"Come on now," Rumil said coaxingly, "We'll get your bow and go practice on the ranges." If Haldir heard him he made no acknowledgment. He sat at one of the long tables in Elrond's hall staring into his mug with a blank expression. Across the corridor the ball continued in the Hall of Fire and Rumil could not help but curse the revelry.
"It is always nice and quiet on the ranges at night." he continued, drawing his arm around his brother's shoulders but Haldir did not respond. "We can even have a challenge and you can wound my pride a little, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Haldir gave a listless sigh as he gazed into his cup. Rumil was fairly alarmed.
"Say something, brother." Rumil pleaded.
"I am doomed." Haldir said sadly. This wasn't exactly what Rumil had been hoping for.
"Nay, you are not doomed!" he said, trying to sound cheerful, "You have only had a misunderstanding." Haldir shook his head slowly.
"You will come down to breakfast in the morning and you will say, 'Lady Arwen," Rumil plunked a foot on the bench, laying his hand over his heart in his best Haldir impersonation "It was never my intention to offend, you do me too great an honor by your friendship." He gave Haldir an encouraging grin but his brother only stared at him mutely.
"Or you could send her a gift." he suggested, a bit crestfallen.
Haldir let out a groan, his forehead slumping against the table with a bang.
********************************************************
Elrohir was very nearly trembling as he slipped down the path in the direction of Eirien's voice. He really had to gain control of his emotions but the thought of Eirien and her sparkling smile was enough to make him weak in the knees.
"Elladan?" she called again, he paused, peering around a tree, watching carefully. "Where is that bloody elf?" Eirien was starting to get a bit impatient. She had been hunting him for what seemed like ages.
"And why are you out here all by yourself?" Eirien turned at the sound of his voice. She could just make him out at the edge of the trees, his face hidden in the shadows but the tunic was definitely Elladan's.
"There you are!" she said brightly, stepping closer to him. "I wondered where you had disappeared to."
"So you thought to come looking for me?" he teased, she eased slowly closer until he was nearly within arms reach and gave him a coy smile. Elrohir could feel his insides tingle and he offered her his arm, trying to remember not to be too encouraging so that she wouldn't be suspicious.
"Well," she sighed, slipping her arm through his and allowing him to lead her down the path. "The ball seems to have lost its most charming attraction." He couldn't help but chuckle.
"As I recall there were many charms in the Hall of Fire this night." he said with a grin. "I am surprised you should leave just to finish our dance."
"Oh," she sighed, giving him a playful look. "I am afraid I've lost interest in dancing."
"Tis a shame," he frowned, his eyes glinting mischievously. "still, it will leave you free to pursue other interests."
"Such as my interest in the most handsome and charming elf in Imladris?" she asked innocently.
"You honor me, my lady." he said softly, his lips nearly brushing her ear "shall we take in the gardens?" Eirien let an evil grin play across her face.
"That would be lovely."
********************************************************
Legolas sighed as he made his way back to his room, he had noticed Meril following him and he had made his rounds of the gardens as quickly as possible. Failing to find Arwen and losing track of the twins he decided to change out of his dress clothes and check her room, perhaps she had slipped by them and returned unnoticed.
The ball continued not far away and he gave a listless sigh. Poor Undomiel, he wanted to throttle Elrond. This had been going on long enough. He never saw his best friend any more except on the rare occasions he happened to be in Lothlorien and he seldom came to the Golden Wood except when traveling home.
Arwen had been his playmate, his first crush, and later his confidant and counselor when life seemed to become more than he could deal with alone. They had forged their special friendship from childhood and he could not imagine his life without her.
But that was what the past four hundred years had slowly become. Life without Undomiel. A life without the carefree elleth she had once been. Her unyielding joy slowly drowned in cold reality and his heart could never hold enough bitterness for what had happened to her, to her mother.
Whatever it took he would make this right, he would not allow her to grow weary from loneliness and grief. No matter the price, no sacrifice was too great. If it took all he had, his very soul, she would be happy again.
**********************************************************
Meril was nearly at her wits end. Legolas was nowhere to be found and Orophin was not to be dissuaded. She had rapidly degenerated from firm assurances to brazen threats and still he would not leave her alone, even her rude commentary didn't seem to discourage him.
Orophin. however, could not have been happier. He felt certain that he knew the reason for her cold demeanor, after all he had worked long and hard at his reputation as a heart breaker. Dear Meril was simply being intelligent and he found it a refreshing change. Here was no simple minded elleth, easily wooed by flowery words. She would have to be fought for and he found the prospect... stimulating.
"I should dearly love to pick you some roses, pen melu." he said gently, "But tell me your favorite kind for there is nothing such beauty as yours does not deserve."
"Black." she replied menacingly, Orophin let the corner of his mouth curl in amusement.
"Perhaps we could take a walk down by the river." Orophin suggested with an adoring smile.
"Perhaps you might just allow me to return to my room on my own." she replied saucily.
"Sweet Meril," he said with a grin "do you doubt my sincerity?"
"Unquestionably." she replied with an icy glare. Orophin dropped to one knee beside her, holding her hand. She gave a fierce tug, trying to pull free but he held fast.
"I will not deny that I have been a rogue." he said, his eyes flooded with sincerity "I would not deceive you, sweet Meril, as I have others for I never loved them as I love you. Never have my eyes beheld such grace and beauty."
Meril looked down at him, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. She had to give him credit, he was good.
***************************************************
Estel wandered aimlessly through the gardens, breathing in the comforting scents that were home as the last rays of sunlight were disappearing. He was feeling a bit embarrassed at the moment, and a bit full of himself as well, he had to admit.
He had listened to his brothers joke about maidens for very nearly as long as he could remember but he had never really considered them rogues until tonight. He was fairly certain Ada wouldn't approve if he knew. He had lectured, endlessly it seemed, that all women, regardless of race, were deserving of the utmost respect.
Apparently Elladan and Elrohir had slept through those lectures.
He let his mind wander to the conversation of the night before and he glanced down at the ring that now adorned his finger.
The ring of the kings of men. It glinted on his hand in the moonlight and he smiled to himself. This ring had graced the hand of Beren, had saved his life if the tales were to be believed. He held a reverence for Beren and his elf-bride Luthien that bordered on hero worship. Especially Luthien.
He had heard the story from his earliest days and had learned their song almost before he learned to walk. He looked at the ring again with a giddy swell in his chest. The same blood flowed in his veins. The same blood who's magic had made the dark fortress of Sauron a heap of rubble. The same blood that cut the silmaril from Morgoth's crown. That persevered through fire and death and nameless horror all for the sake of love.
A smile played across his young face. All his life he had felt an orphan. True he still had his mother but in all honesty, he had seen her less and less over the years. Seldom did they see eye to eye and now he understood that it was little wonder. Often she spoke to him of his people and just as often he brushed them aside. Had they not abandoned him, after all, to be raised by the elves? He had thought that the son of a dead Ranger had no value to the lords of men, it had never entered his thoughts that he was being hidden in plain sight. The heir of kings in the guise of a foundling.
He would have to speak to her soon. He should set things right.
But with so much pride filling his heart it was hard to think of anything but the joy of the moment. He was not the nameless son of humans. He was the firstborn of Lord Arathorn. The heir of Beren, Elros and Isildur. So much history, so many names, names he knew as well as his own. No matter what the path ahead may bring he was certain that nothing could tarnish the power of this moment.
He began to hum softly to himself, his favorite song. The Lay of Luthien had been like a companion from his childhood and before long he lifted his voice, singing out the soft strains of Luthien's unsurpassing beauty and power.
He left the formal gardens, slipping through a grove of birch trees and heading for his favorite spot in the small, well kept wood that surround the house. The place where he had often come alone with his thoughts. Tonight his mind would be filled with the Kings of Numenor, their greatness and glory. On the edge of the glade he stopped.
Blessed Eru, it was her!
Luthien stood before him, a vision of beauty beyond any he had ever thought possible. Long had he imagined her but his fantasies did not do the woman justice. This was no mere daughter of kings. This was one of the Miar. She walked as if from a dream, gliding over the ground, the very stars of the sky sparkling in her hair. Her pale skin glistened in the gathering darkness like the gown she wore, shining like sapphire and mithril, glorious, stunning, the very breath upon the earth. His heart thudded in his chest, what was there in all of Arda that compared to this?
"Tinuviel." he breathed. She stopped, startled at the sound of his voice and, abandoning all reason, he burst into the glade.
"Tinuviel." he repeated, his voice almost pleading. She stood, rooted to the spot, watching him with unreadable eyes.
"Why do you call me that?" Arwen's eyes narrowed, she did not know this young human, though something deep within told her she should recognize him. He stood only a few paces away, his eyes sparkling with awe.
"Have the Valar not returned Luthien once more to Middle-Earth?" he asked softly. "I was singing of you and now here you are."
It was by far the sweetest thing she had ever heard, and uttered in all innocence so far as she could tell. He could not be much more than a boy and she gave him a warm smile.
"I am not Luthien." she replied, trying not to giggle, she did not want to hurt his feelings after all. "But tell me who you are."
"Elrond named me Estel." he replied, "But I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn Lord of the Dunedain." The moment he said the words he blushed. It had sounded so lofty just a few minutes ago.
Aragorn? Arwen shook her head with a smile. This was the babe she had helped Gilraen deliver? She had a sudden impulse to tell him but she thought better of it. He looked quite embarrassed enough already.
"Then we are kin." she replied, beckoning him closer and slipping her arm though his before walking on with him. "I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond."
"Daughter of Elrond..." Estel stared at her, open mouthed. "My Lady, I have lived in this house nearly all of my life and I have never heard a word of you. Ada has not kept that which is most beautiful locked safe in his treasury has he?" Arwen couldn't help but laugh this time, despite the fact that Estel's declaration cut her a bit. But then, she should not be surprised that they did not speak of her, should she?
"I have been in Lothlorien with my mother's parents." she replied, giving his arm a squeeze. "It has been many years since I was home to visit."
Estel stopped and their eyes met, eyes full of wisdom and the knowledge of years beyond his comprehension. He felt a flutter in his chest. A part of him had thought she must be near his own age, but those eyes. He had never seen such eyes. Full of life and power and... grief. What had she known in life to mingle such beauty with sadness?
Those eyes seemed to burn his very soul with their power, consuming him. He drew her to a bench and settled down beside her, feeling suddenly shy and a bit foolish.
"I hope you would forgive my forwardness." he said softly, looking at his feet, "I meant no disrespect."
"You have not shown me any." Arwen replied tenderly. She felt drawn to him in a way she couldn't quite explain. He had an innocent honesty she could appreciate. He spoke his heart and that was more than she could say for most, who seemed to be more intent upon their goals than on truth. He would make a very fine king, she thought, perhaps this one would reclaim the throne of Gondor where others had failed.
"I am quite out of my league to be flirting in the garden with so noble a lady of the elves." he blushed.
"Where we flirting?" she teased. He looked up at her wide eyed a moment as if fearing he had offended her before catching her mischievous expression and bursting into laughter. He really had a charming laugh. "There is nothing wrong with a little flirt, it passes the time."
"Aye, I suppose." he admitted with an uneasy grin, "and I could not pass the time in finer company."
"And as I have few friends in Imladris I might easily say the same." she smiled, slipping her arm through his again.
"I can not imagine that there are not elf lords far more noble than I who would welcome your company." he said, self-consciously
"I can be incredibly difficult to get along with." she giggled. It was a fact that now seemed amusing in the presence of this human boy.
"It is not permissible to disagree with a lady." he said hesitantly. "but I do not find you difficult." Arwen looked up at him, so gentle and, she sensed, powerful in his own right as well. It had been a very long time since anyone besides Legolas had been so kind to her and she laid her head impulsively on his shoulder.
"Thank you." she whispered.
*****************************
pen melu - lovely one
****************************
Author's Note - Well, how was it? Are you all happy? More on the happy couple next week.
Thank you so much for all the great reviews!
****************************
Grumpy - Sorry, no pics. I'm not an artist. And Estel was not napping, it just took me 9 chapters to cover 4 hours of time, I can't check up on everyone at once. Interesting? You have no idea.
Converted - Rhach! Get the fire extinguisher! (Come to think of it, if you're going to keep reading this story you'd better get one of those vinyl keyboard protectors.)
Angels-S-C - My big complaint in life is that Tolkien didn't create enough female characters and I have to invent some (and before anyone asks, no I don't have much of a life.)
dragonfly - the sentence made about as much sense as the story.
Whyte Ivy - It's always the big tough guys who can't seem to keep their hearts out of their throats, but we hear more about Haldir on that subject later. If you asked Elladan he'd probably tell you he sees Indelin as his little sister and the job of all big brothers is to make sure the little sister gets treated right and ends up with a nice guy. Any picks?
"Come on now," Rumil said coaxingly, "We'll get your bow and go practice on the ranges." If Haldir heard him he made no acknowledgment. He sat at one of the long tables in Elrond's hall staring into his mug with a blank expression. Across the corridor the ball continued in the Hall of Fire and Rumil could not help but curse the revelry.
"It is always nice and quiet on the ranges at night." he continued, drawing his arm around his brother's shoulders but Haldir did not respond. "We can even have a challenge and you can wound my pride a little, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Haldir gave a listless sigh as he gazed into his cup. Rumil was fairly alarmed.
"Say something, brother." Rumil pleaded.
"I am doomed." Haldir said sadly. This wasn't exactly what Rumil had been hoping for.
"Nay, you are not doomed!" he said, trying to sound cheerful, "You have only had a misunderstanding." Haldir shook his head slowly.
"You will come down to breakfast in the morning and you will say, 'Lady Arwen," Rumil plunked a foot on the bench, laying his hand over his heart in his best Haldir impersonation "It was never my intention to offend, you do me too great an honor by your friendship." He gave Haldir an encouraging grin but his brother only stared at him mutely.
"Or you could send her a gift." he suggested, a bit crestfallen.
Haldir let out a groan, his forehead slumping against the table with a bang.
********************************************************
Elrohir was very nearly trembling as he slipped down the path in the direction of Eirien's voice. He really had to gain control of his emotions but the thought of Eirien and her sparkling smile was enough to make him weak in the knees.
"Elladan?" she called again, he paused, peering around a tree, watching carefully. "Where is that bloody elf?" Eirien was starting to get a bit impatient. She had been hunting him for what seemed like ages.
"And why are you out here all by yourself?" Eirien turned at the sound of his voice. She could just make him out at the edge of the trees, his face hidden in the shadows but the tunic was definitely Elladan's.
"There you are!" she said brightly, stepping closer to him. "I wondered where you had disappeared to."
"So you thought to come looking for me?" he teased, she eased slowly closer until he was nearly within arms reach and gave him a coy smile. Elrohir could feel his insides tingle and he offered her his arm, trying to remember not to be too encouraging so that she wouldn't be suspicious.
"Well," she sighed, slipping her arm through his and allowing him to lead her down the path. "The ball seems to have lost its most charming attraction." He couldn't help but chuckle.
"As I recall there were many charms in the Hall of Fire this night." he said with a grin. "I am surprised you should leave just to finish our dance."
"Oh," she sighed, giving him a playful look. "I am afraid I've lost interest in dancing."
"Tis a shame," he frowned, his eyes glinting mischievously. "still, it will leave you free to pursue other interests."
"Such as my interest in the most handsome and charming elf in Imladris?" she asked innocently.
"You honor me, my lady." he said softly, his lips nearly brushing her ear "shall we take in the gardens?" Eirien let an evil grin play across her face.
"That would be lovely."
********************************************************
Legolas sighed as he made his way back to his room, he had noticed Meril following him and he had made his rounds of the gardens as quickly as possible. Failing to find Arwen and losing track of the twins he decided to change out of his dress clothes and check her room, perhaps she had slipped by them and returned unnoticed.
The ball continued not far away and he gave a listless sigh. Poor Undomiel, he wanted to throttle Elrond. This had been going on long enough. He never saw his best friend any more except on the rare occasions he happened to be in Lothlorien and he seldom came to the Golden Wood except when traveling home.
Arwen had been his playmate, his first crush, and later his confidant and counselor when life seemed to become more than he could deal with alone. They had forged their special friendship from childhood and he could not imagine his life without her.
But that was what the past four hundred years had slowly become. Life without Undomiel. A life without the carefree elleth she had once been. Her unyielding joy slowly drowned in cold reality and his heart could never hold enough bitterness for what had happened to her, to her mother.
Whatever it took he would make this right, he would not allow her to grow weary from loneliness and grief. No matter the price, no sacrifice was too great. If it took all he had, his very soul, she would be happy again.
**********************************************************
Meril was nearly at her wits end. Legolas was nowhere to be found and Orophin was not to be dissuaded. She had rapidly degenerated from firm assurances to brazen threats and still he would not leave her alone, even her rude commentary didn't seem to discourage him.
Orophin. however, could not have been happier. He felt certain that he knew the reason for her cold demeanor, after all he had worked long and hard at his reputation as a heart breaker. Dear Meril was simply being intelligent and he found it a refreshing change. Here was no simple minded elleth, easily wooed by flowery words. She would have to be fought for and he found the prospect... stimulating.
"I should dearly love to pick you some roses, pen melu." he said gently, "But tell me your favorite kind for there is nothing such beauty as yours does not deserve."
"Black." she replied menacingly, Orophin let the corner of his mouth curl in amusement.
"Perhaps we could take a walk down by the river." Orophin suggested with an adoring smile.
"Perhaps you might just allow me to return to my room on my own." she replied saucily.
"Sweet Meril," he said with a grin "do you doubt my sincerity?"
"Unquestionably." she replied with an icy glare. Orophin dropped to one knee beside her, holding her hand. She gave a fierce tug, trying to pull free but he held fast.
"I will not deny that I have been a rogue." he said, his eyes flooded with sincerity "I would not deceive you, sweet Meril, as I have others for I never loved them as I love you. Never have my eyes beheld such grace and beauty."
Meril looked down at him, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. She had to give him credit, he was good.
***************************************************
Estel wandered aimlessly through the gardens, breathing in the comforting scents that were home as the last rays of sunlight were disappearing. He was feeling a bit embarrassed at the moment, and a bit full of himself as well, he had to admit.
He had listened to his brothers joke about maidens for very nearly as long as he could remember but he had never really considered them rogues until tonight. He was fairly certain Ada wouldn't approve if he knew. He had lectured, endlessly it seemed, that all women, regardless of race, were deserving of the utmost respect.
Apparently Elladan and Elrohir had slept through those lectures.
He let his mind wander to the conversation of the night before and he glanced down at the ring that now adorned his finger.
The ring of the kings of men. It glinted on his hand in the moonlight and he smiled to himself. This ring had graced the hand of Beren, had saved his life if the tales were to be believed. He held a reverence for Beren and his elf-bride Luthien that bordered on hero worship. Especially Luthien.
He had heard the story from his earliest days and had learned their song almost before he learned to walk. He looked at the ring again with a giddy swell in his chest. The same blood flowed in his veins. The same blood who's magic had made the dark fortress of Sauron a heap of rubble. The same blood that cut the silmaril from Morgoth's crown. That persevered through fire and death and nameless horror all for the sake of love.
A smile played across his young face. All his life he had felt an orphan. True he still had his mother but in all honesty, he had seen her less and less over the years. Seldom did they see eye to eye and now he understood that it was little wonder. Often she spoke to him of his people and just as often he brushed them aside. Had they not abandoned him, after all, to be raised by the elves? He had thought that the son of a dead Ranger had no value to the lords of men, it had never entered his thoughts that he was being hidden in plain sight. The heir of kings in the guise of a foundling.
He would have to speak to her soon. He should set things right.
But with so much pride filling his heart it was hard to think of anything but the joy of the moment. He was not the nameless son of humans. He was the firstborn of Lord Arathorn. The heir of Beren, Elros and Isildur. So much history, so many names, names he knew as well as his own. No matter what the path ahead may bring he was certain that nothing could tarnish the power of this moment.
He began to hum softly to himself, his favorite song. The Lay of Luthien had been like a companion from his childhood and before long he lifted his voice, singing out the soft strains of Luthien's unsurpassing beauty and power.
He left the formal gardens, slipping through a grove of birch trees and heading for his favorite spot in the small, well kept wood that surround the house. The place where he had often come alone with his thoughts. Tonight his mind would be filled with the Kings of Numenor, their greatness and glory. On the edge of the glade he stopped.
Blessed Eru, it was her!
Luthien stood before him, a vision of beauty beyond any he had ever thought possible. Long had he imagined her but his fantasies did not do the woman justice. This was no mere daughter of kings. This was one of the Miar. She walked as if from a dream, gliding over the ground, the very stars of the sky sparkling in her hair. Her pale skin glistened in the gathering darkness like the gown she wore, shining like sapphire and mithril, glorious, stunning, the very breath upon the earth. His heart thudded in his chest, what was there in all of Arda that compared to this?
"Tinuviel." he breathed. She stopped, startled at the sound of his voice and, abandoning all reason, he burst into the glade.
"Tinuviel." he repeated, his voice almost pleading. She stood, rooted to the spot, watching him with unreadable eyes.
"Why do you call me that?" Arwen's eyes narrowed, she did not know this young human, though something deep within told her she should recognize him. He stood only a few paces away, his eyes sparkling with awe.
"Have the Valar not returned Luthien once more to Middle-Earth?" he asked softly. "I was singing of you and now here you are."
It was by far the sweetest thing she had ever heard, and uttered in all innocence so far as she could tell. He could not be much more than a boy and she gave him a warm smile.
"I am not Luthien." she replied, trying not to giggle, she did not want to hurt his feelings after all. "But tell me who you are."
"Elrond named me Estel." he replied, "But I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn Lord of the Dunedain." The moment he said the words he blushed. It had sounded so lofty just a few minutes ago.
Aragorn? Arwen shook her head with a smile. This was the babe she had helped Gilraen deliver? She had a sudden impulse to tell him but she thought better of it. He looked quite embarrassed enough already.
"Then we are kin." she replied, beckoning him closer and slipping her arm though his before walking on with him. "I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond."
"Daughter of Elrond..." Estel stared at her, open mouthed. "My Lady, I have lived in this house nearly all of my life and I have never heard a word of you. Ada has not kept that which is most beautiful locked safe in his treasury has he?" Arwen couldn't help but laugh this time, despite the fact that Estel's declaration cut her a bit. But then, she should not be surprised that they did not speak of her, should she?
"I have been in Lothlorien with my mother's parents." she replied, giving his arm a squeeze. "It has been many years since I was home to visit."
Estel stopped and their eyes met, eyes full of wisdom and the knowledge of years beyond his comprehension. He felt a flutter in his chest. A part of him had thought she must be near his own age, but those eyes. He had never seen such eyes. Full of life and power and... grief. What had she known in life to mingle such beauty with sadness?
Those eyes seemed to burn his very soul with their power, consuming him. He drew her to a bench and settled down beside her, feeling suddenly shy and a bit foolish.
"I hope you would forgive my forwardness." he said softly, looking at his feet, "I meant no disrespect."
"You have not shown me any." Arwen replied tenderly. She felt drawn to him in a way she couldn't quite explain. He had an innocent honesty she could appreciate. He spoke his heart and that was more than she could say for most, who seemed to be more intent upon their goals than on truth. He would make a very fine king, she thought, perhaps this one would reclaim the throne of Gondor where others had failed.
"I am quite out of my league to be flirting in the garden with so noble a lady of the elves." he blushed.
"Where we flirting?" she teased. He looked up at her wide eyed a moment as if fearing he had offended her before catching her mischievous expression and bursting into laughter. He really had a charming laugh. "There is nothing wrong with a little flirt, it passes the time."
"Aye, I suppose." he admitted with an uneasy grin, "and I could not pass the time in finer company."
"And as I have few friends in Imladris I might easily say the same." she smiled, slipping her arm through his again.
"I can not imagine that there are not elf lords far more noble than I who would welcome your company." he said, self-consciously
"I can be incredibly difficult to get along with." she giggled. It was a fact that now seemed amusing in the presence of this human boy.
"It is not permissible to disagree with a lady." he said hesitantly. "but I do not find you difficult." Arwen looked up at him, so gentle and, she sensed, powerful in his own right as well. It had been a very long time since anyone besides Legolas had been so kind to her and she laid her head impulsively on his shoulder.
"Thank you." she whispered.
*****************************
pen melu - lovely one
****************************
Author's Note - Well, how was it? Are you all happy? More on the happy couple next week.
Thank you so much for all the great reviews!
****************************
Grumpy - Sorry, no pics. I'm not an artist. And Estel was not napping, it just took me 9 chapters to cover 4 hours of time, I can't check up on everyone at once. Interesting? You have no idea.
Converted - Rhach! Get the fire extinguisher! (Come to think of it, if you're going to keep reading this story you'd better get one of those vinyl keyboard protectors.)
Angels-S-C - My big complaint in life is that Tolkien didn't create enough female characters and I have to invent some (and before anyone asks, no I don't have much of a life.)
dragonfly - the sentence made about as much sense as the story.
Whyte Ivy - It's always the big tough guys who can't seem to keep their hearts out of their throats, but we hear more about Haldir on that subject later. If you asked Elladan he'd probably tell you he sees Indelin as his little sister and the job of all big brothers is to make sure the little sister gets treated right and ends up with a nice guy. Any picks?
