Deep In My Heart
A tale of romance and fretful Elves by Ellie in ElfPajamas.
Rating: PG13. Frightening scenes, some things that may be deemed 'suggestive'.
Chapter two: Snow Angels.
Rinn sniffed. Something reeked, and despite the fact that they had gone many miles, the smell had followed them. She turned to Elladan.
"Did one of you step in horse droppings or something of that nature? What stinks?"
"I don't smell anything." Elladan said, looking confused.
It was Elrohir's feigned innocence and the fact that Estel smelled it too that quickly put the twins in the hot seat.
"Elladan put a stinkbug in your pack." Elrohir admitted.
"But it was Elrohir's idea." Elladan added.
Estel dumped the pack in the thin snow of the pass, quickly covering anything that could get wet without being damaged with snow. He packed the snow tight on it, then dug up the items. They didn't smell as bad, they would be fine to carry until they could be washed at least. The group could see the forest of Mirkwood in the distance, and the dwelling of Beorn a day's journey ahead. It was tantalizing to be so close to their destination, only two days more ahead of them. Rinn was imagining the stable full of horses already, the twins were thinking of their mares, and Estel was dreaming of Rilaisseth's cooking. He liked the matronly older she-Elf and her husband.
Down in the valley, the Anduin babbled on and night began to fall.
Calad's hair fell around her face in long, soft curls. She had cut it shorter of her own choice, it had been much to long for her to manage it herself. It was only long enough to reach the small of her back now. It was up in a large bun on the back of her head now, and her sleeves were rolled up as she kneaded bread dough with Faelon. Rilaisseth was already multitasking, she didn't need anything else to do, although she felt it scandalous that the Lord and Lady of Southern Mirkwood were in her kitchen making bread. Calad thought it was rather romantic to make bread with her husband. The dough would soon be ready to shape, and Calad wanted to make breadsticks.
Faelon stopped kneading to let the dough rise for the last time, so Calad copied him. Faelon smiled.
"I wish I understood exactly why you wanted Rinn for the whole winter. If you wanted trouble your brother Legolas could just stay for a few weeks." Faelon mused.
"It's different, you big fool. Rinn is a she-Elf. She's trouble because she's the twins' baby sister, that's all." Calad laughed.
"Well, she should be here any day now. I sure hope she's gentle with my she-Elf." Faelon said, wrapping his arms around Calad.
They said sweet things to each other and made Rilaisseth roll her eyes while waiting for the dough to rise.
When the dough had risen, Faelon started to twist it into fantastic shapes, not thinking about it much. The breadsticks were not the simple breadsticks Calad was making, they were braided, twisted shapes, slowly taking the form of her name. She formed Faelon's name in the bread dough as well, teasing him as they put the bread in the oven to bake.
Rilaisseth watched out of the corner of her eye. Calad and Faelon really had a unique relationship. Faelon thought it his mission to shelter and protect Calad, and Calad saw it as her job to make sure Faelon knew he was appreciated. Faelon was a hands on leader, as well. When the hunting parties went out for fresh meat, Faelon was with them. He surveyed the deer herds, making sure that they only took as much as the herds could afford to have culled. He'd also imported beef cattle from Gondor and Rohan along with horses for his breeding program. Beriorchan's household would never lack, that was certain. Faelon was a careful planner. Northern Mirkwood was similarly prepared, he and the royal head cook had seen to that. And Faelon was also a generous soul. Those that came to him empty handed seldom went away in the same state. There were a few Dwarves that he had aided in the past, whom he could call upon if he needed to. It was to his advantage that he looked like a Man to the Men, and like an Elf to the the Elves. Thrice over the summer, wounded and weary groups of Rangers had been sheltered with in the fortress' welcoming walls.
There was a hunt tomorrow, and Faelon would be on it. All the hunters were outfitted with light mithril mail shirts to protect them from stray arrows. Faelon stepped outside to get more wood for Rilaisseth's stove, feeling the sharpness of the air.
The sky was whitening, he knew that meant the clouds were heavy with snow. He looked out over the forest for a moment, hoping that Rinnalaiss and her escort would not be caught in the coming storm. He prayed for them, then shouted to Innas that the animals should be brought in.
When he got back inside, Calad was taking the baked bread from the oven. The warm, delicious scent filled the house, and Faelon returned several loaves to the oven to keep them warm for the Elves working outside. He put a pot of spiced cider on to heat.
Rinn and the others could smell the baked bread in the wind. They were a half-day's journey from Faelon's home yet, having taken their leave of Beorn this morning. The weather looked more and more threatening by the hour, and they pushed the horses harder, hoping to make it to within sight of the walls before the snow came down in blankets. They made quick progress.
The green stones revealed themselves as the snow began to fall thickly about them. Elladan hailed the watchman, who opened the gates for them. They led the tired horses into the warm stable, bedding them down and taking the packs from their backs. Faelon's dogs, three enormous wolfhounds, pranced and capered around, happy to see the guests. Two huge, shaggy, red and white dogs with droop ears watched calmly. These Faelon had acquired from a northern trader for a mare and some supplies, and they had paid for themselves many times over. They could find people lost in a storm and save their lives.
The group hurried up to the house, where they were joyously received and immediately poured steaming mugs of spiced cider.
Elrond saw the snow come down and sighed. Glorfindel was right yet again. He returned to the study, where Erestor and Glorfindel were playing chess, and Celeboril was sitting by the fire with a book. Elrond's mind wandered to his younger days, and he picked up a blank book and pen & ink. Soon restive scenes of the other Elves in the room were manifesting themselves on the paper. Elrond relaxed, doing soft scenes of deer in the snow.
The fire roared away on the hearth, and the whole room was bright and warm. Other Elves came to sit by the fire and read, including Melannen, with her needle work. It was such a peaceful, quiet scene. It laid all fears to rest. For all the Elves in the room, it was simply family time.
Faelon woke with a start and dropped the book in his lap. He'd fallen asleep reading again. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, yawning. His red-and-white dogs were lying by his chair, asleep in the firelight, the puma he and Calad had adopted was curled up on a blanket near the hearth. Faelon got up and put his book away, treading softly. He banked the coals of the fire and headed up the steps to his bedroom. Calad was already asleep, curled up under the thick, warm blanket on their bed, one leaf-shaped ear barely protruding from under the blanket, ringed around by long blond locks. He smiled softly, dressing in his nightclothes, and crawled under the covers and went to sleep.
Elrond woke with a start to see Melannen in front of him.
"My lord, you would be better off sleeping in your bed. We feared you would fall headlong into the fire if we let you sleep here any longer."
Elrond nodded, yawning and stretching like a large cat. He slowly got out of his chair and headed for bed, his sketchbook neglected on the table beside the chair.
He readied himself for bed, looking out the window. A soft, fluffy white blanket covered Imladris. While he could have had perpetual spring here, he knew spring was not as beautiful without the winter before it. He was thankful for the seasons, and would do nothing to stay their gilded hands. As he sat watching the snow fall, Glorfindel hopped, skipped, and jumped by, his long golden locks peeking from beneath the hood of his heavy blue cloak. Other Elves, all dark haired like most of the Elven population, were out with him, in many colored cloaks. Reds, greens, blues, grays, purples, and other deep and glorious hues made a bright swath of color against the sparkling whiteness of the snow. Erestor and Melannen, both wearing deep red cloaks, were among the other Elves, as a snowball fight began. Snow flew as furious and thick from the ground as it fell thick from the sky. Elrond laughed softly to himself before turning in.
As he crawled beneath the thick blankets, Elrond remembered snowball fights past, and images of cold, red cheeked Elven children playing in the new snowfall flitted through came to mind. Celebrian, with her long golden tresses, showing Elladan and Elrohir how to make snowangels, showing Arwen how to make her first snowball. Erestor, young and insecure, joining in a game of snowball tag, and feeling more accepted. The image of Estel riding piggyback on Elrond's own back, as the small child looked in wonderment at all the snow, flitted through his mind as he fell asleep.
Erestor sputtered, a rather fluffy snowball had exploded on his face, temporarilly blinding him. Melannen was laughing, watching her husband stumble blindly toward his assailant. Glorfindel had turned his back to Erestor, who jumped on the tall golden Elf and tackled him to the ground. Glorfindel yelped as Erestor rubbed his face in the snow in retribution. Glorfindel and Erestor were soon tussling in the snow as other Elves laughed and cheered them on, occaissionally beaning the golden Elf with a snowball to level the playing field. Celeboril was taking a rather wicked satisfaction in taking cheapshots at the Elf who infuriated most of the Elves of Imladris on a daily basis. It was still all in fun, no one was going to get hurt.
Erestor managed to pin Glorfindel and hold him down, despite the golden Elf's superior strength and size. Erestor giggled, looking down into those wide blue eyes.
"Do you yield?" Erestor asked, pretending to choke Glorfindel.
"Yes, Ressi, I yeild, no scragging, please!" Glorfindel chuckled.
Melannen swept over, laughing.
"This is good, Lord Glorfindel. Now both of you drag your sorry hides out of the snow before you ruin your clothes!" she scolded lightly.
Celeboril laughed, taking up Melannen's argument.
"True, my Lords, you would do well not to destroy your winter cloaks so early in the season. It's only the first snow." he smiled.
Erestor and Glorfindel got up, dusting off the snow and laughing.
Celeboril beaned Glorfindel with a nicely packed snowball.
All hell broke loose.
Legolas let go in giddy excitement, winging the captain of the guard in the back of the head with a snowball. The silver haired Elf didn't turn to look at his assailant, and merely sighed in resignation. Every winter, every first snow since the prince had learned to walk, he had proceeded to wing members of the guard with the first snowball. Thranduil had been complained to many times, and he had really not done anything about it. It seemed that he was also amused. A second snowball struck the captain of the guard, causing the Elf to turn in surprise, there had never been more than one snowball. King Thranduil himself was standing there, holding his sides, laughing heartilly.
"My Liege, this is intolerable! Your son has already used us for snowball-fight practice, surely you are much too mature for that!?" the Elf exclaimed.
Thranduil cracked up.
"Nay, youngling. One is never too old to take pleasure in the simple things. Besides, young Benn, no harm was done." Thranduil replied, a wicked twinkle in his eyes as he observed the guard's reaction.
Benn really didn't know what to say to that.
Thranduil moved on, winging his youngest son in the back of the head and confounding the dogs.
Legolas and Thranduil went at each other, pelting each other with snowballs, much to the amusement of the guards. The dogs tackled Legolas, trying to get the snowballs. Thranduil scrambled to his son's side, chuckling.
"Legolas, what are you doing down there?" Randir, Legolas' oldest brother, asked, grinning.
"Making snow angels, dear brother." Legolas growled, kicking his brother's legs out from under him. Randir made a face-first snow angel, taking down his father with him by accident. Thranduil lay very still. Legolas crawled over to his father, alarmed. Earenrandir and Celebduril didn't seem so easilly fooled, as they let their baby brother panic.
"Ada? Ada, are you alright?" Legolas cried, reaching for his father.
Thranduil jumped up and grabbed Legolas with an exclaimation of 'Gotcha!'.
Legolas cackled shrilly as his father noogied him really good, squirming. The guards rolled their eyes. Thranduil would never act his age, and Legolas would never grow up. Maybe that was a good thing, because mature Thranduil might have been utterly unbearable.
Legolas was laughing so hard, and Thranduil was chuckling as he laid his head against that of his son, hugging him tightly.
"You're so immature." Thranduil whispered in Legolas' ear.
Legolas burst into a fresh fit of laughter.
"I'M immature??? You're the one everyone thinks has reverted to being an Elfling!" Legolas said.
"No reversion neccesary in your case, Legolas." Earenrandir joked. "You are an Elfling!"
Legolas shot Earenrandir such a look, and Celebduril winged his older brother with a snowball, starting the fight over again.
Faelon threw the fat white deer over Shadow's withers, watching as several of his companions did the same with their kills and their horses. The hunt had been a successful one, and it was nice to be headed back. Elladan and Elrohir were teasing Estel to distraction about the deer he'd managed to shoot between the eyes and still felt the need to shoot in the ribs as well. It was a perfect, clean kill with the headshot, they maintained, while Estel insisted that it'd still been alive.
Innas was shaking his auburn head, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous arguement. Innas typically didn't interfere in disputes between younger Elves, he'd stay out of this one as well. Faelon clapped his hands to get their attention.
"My lords, you may stay here and continue your arguement, but we're heading home and we're taking the deer with us so we can clean them before they freeze solid." Faelon said, swinging onto Shadow's back.
Other Elves agreed with their young Lord, eager to get home to their families and the hot spiced cider Calad would undoubtably have ready. Elladan and Elrohir agreed as well, while Estel said nothing and eagerly clambered onto his horse.
"Good, I'm cold." Estel said.
This was recieved with snickering from the Elves. They didn't get cold.
"I'm with you on that, Estel, being able to see my breath in the air makes me feel cold." Faelon said wryly. "It means that if my hair gets wet it could very well break like an icicle. Having had that not so enjoyable experience before, I don't like icy weather."
"If you're worried about that, why do you have long hair?" questioned Elladan.
Faelon grinned impishly.
"To keep my ears warm."