Minas Tirith
"What business you have with young Lord Belthil will simply have to wait, my Lord. I can not simply enter the royal family's private quarters and say that you await without an audience!" Guards of the Citadel were nothing if not insistent, and loyal.
"Lord Belthil, now is it? When he came here he was of no higher rank than you," argued ex-councilor Gwaithir.
"Lord Belthil remains a part of the Citadel Guard, my Lord. He is also a member of the King's Council, and if i am correct, it so happens that he took your place as the Council's military advisor," said the guard in a completely unassuming tone.
"That should outrage you as much as it does me! Who ever heard of a Citadel Guard and common soldier of no more than two score years sitting on the Council!" Gwaithir blustered on.
The guard was not so simple to dissuade though. "No, sir. In fact i am glad to have a comrade who has the King's ear, my wife and children no longer starve during the winter months now with His and Her Majesties and Steward Faramir in reign."
"Damn you! They say a man must be at the height of fitness to achieve your position, but they accept the blind of brain into the Citadel Guard. It seems to have slipped your mind, but i am your superior and i demand that you either leave me pass or fetch that young upstart here, immediately!" Gwaithir roared.
"Is that not always the difficulty with Men? Always are they in such haste," mused a crystal-clear voice from behind Gwaithir. "Do you not agree Gimli?"
The stout dwarf nodded somewhat menacingly, standing with a rather defensive posture.
"And always they think themselves superior...," Legolas said, moving to stand in front of Gwaithir and standing frighteningly close to him. "Why is that, Gwaithir?"
Gwaithir started to take a step back but found himself hemmed in by Gimli, who he bumped into and from whom received a growling grunt as a greeting.
"Is this man giving you trouble?" Legolas asked the guard.
"He wants to speak with Lord Belthil, my Lord, but he is in the King's quarters with the Queen for she gave the nurse the day off," he explained.
"Ah, he is looking after the Steward's son. Is that reason enough for you to go away now, ex-counselor?" Legolas, turning again to Gwaithir, asked in his most courteous tone.
Gwaithir said nothing, and it was hard to tell if his silence was a product of fear or outrage.
"That would be two answers you are in debt to me, Gwaithir...," Legolas "reminded."
"I did not come here to answer your questions, Elf! I came to tal-"
Gwaithir's retort was cut short by Legolas pinning him to the wall by his neck. "What business could you have here in the Citadel now that the new Council is in term? Look, yet another answer you owe me... Men are terrible about repaying debts. Ai, i suppose Aragorn might let you go live in Ered Nimrais, where the last oath-breakers used to dwell."
"No good, Legolas," quipped the Dwarf. "That's the Paths of the Dead... this one is still alive."
"A minor, temporary inconvenience, Gimli," Legolas said wearing a predatory smile, not taking his eyes off Gwaithir. "Aragorn really does not like you very much, you know? I must say, it is not easy to get on his bad side, but when you do..."
"We'll take things from here, laddie," Gimli said to the guard. "Go on and have some supper. Have some ale on my tab!" The man was looking a smidge afraid himself and happily accepted the Dwarf's generosity.
"Who are you to order the Guards of the Citadel, Dwarf!" Gwaithir squawked, too conceited to realize that it was quite in his best interests to be silent.
"That is my friend," Legolas said, tightening his hold. "As i was saying, Aragorn really does not like you. As for me, i do not trust you."
Another two guards came quickly to corridor after seeing their comrade hurrying away. "Is there some trouble here, Prince Legolas? Good evening, Master Gimli," one said. The Guards of the Citadel had gotten to be rather friendly with Gimli as he was generous in sharing his account with them at several of Minas Tirith's taverns and the life of the party when he would occasionally join them.
Legolas smiled serenely. "No trouble at all here, not anymore. Is that not correct, Gwaithir?" The smile remained but Legolas's keen eyes pierced deeply into Gwaithir's.
The ex-Councilor quickly nodded, hoping the guards would just leave, he was already thoroughly humiliated. They did not. Legolas then eased his grip on him and let him go back the way he came. Gwaithir had not taken more than three hurried steps though, when Legolas called out.
"Oh, i nearly forgot, Gwaithir! Since i have not seen you at Council lately, for obvious reasons, i have kept this letter with me until i should happen to come across you elsewhere. I was asked to keep it extremely confidential." Legolas handed the parchment to Gwaithir who grabbed it away. "Lord Glorfindel gave it to me to deliver to you just before he left. What was it he said? It was so poetic... 'The curse of the Immortal is the gift of the Mortal, that my 'sentiments' might suffer to die when he does.'" The two guards standing by were hard pressed to keep from bursting out in laughter.
Gwaithir turned the most deep shade of crimson after reading just the first two lines of Glorfindel's note. "Lies! These are lies!" he cried, thrusting the letter back at Legolas. "Burn it, Elf!"
Legolas took a threatening step closer to Gwaithir. "Do i look like a Wizard who can conjure fire? Or perhaps Steward Denethor, who burnt anything that did not please him? So and alas... Glorfindel said you would say that they were only lies."
Gwaithir spun around to eye the two Citadel guards. "You do not think for a moment that i..."
The elder of the two guards spoke. "Actually, occasionally i do think for a moment, sometimes two moments. Of course at this moment, all i am thinking is that you do not have leave from anyone in authority to be in the Citadel, sir."
"So, if you will just come with us...," said the other, linking his arm with Gwaithir's and leading him away.
"This is getting too easy," Legolas sighed.
"I agree, you're getting to be useless, Elf!" Gimli said. "Let's head down to the Merry Widow, we never did finish that drinking contest from last week."
"Oh, it was finished. Only, you finished early," Legolas said with a smirk. "I think it would be more wise if we go and have a word with Belthil about this Gwaithir character. Perhaps Arwen will let you hold Elboron."
Gimli groaned, tucking his beard into his shirt.
ooo
Imladris
That evening after supper everyone retired to the Hall once again. Finally now at the end of the days of the Eldar in Arda the Hall of Fire was in it's glory. It was likely that once Elrond sailed to the West the fireplace would only be lit in the winter months, and then only if some Mortal guest was about. But still, at least in these days there was still some cheer left to be shared.
The soft chatter circulated for a while, sounding more like wind in the reeds than the chatter of Mortal halls which sounded more like an avalanche. Aragorn was curious as to just how Glorfindel had "taken care of" Gwaithir as he had mentioned doing earlier that day. Glorfindel told him and Faramir about the sultry letter he wrote and left in Legolas's keeping to be used at a strategic moment.
"In all honesty, sultry doesn't describe it. Had i used any of that material in our little competition earlier, i would still be the reigning champion," Glorfindel said, sprawled out gracefully on a chaise, his head in Erestor's lap.
"Exactly how 'sultry' did you get, mela?" his raven-haired Noldo enquired.
"Remember the letter i left for you the night we got back here?" Glorfindel said. "That, only with a different name."
Elrond was still having difficulty getting used to the fact that what he had tried to do for centuries, namely getting Erestor and Glorfindel together in a relationship, was actually happening and working right in front of him. After all these years, it almost seemed like a wrinkle in the fabric of Imladris, but upon closer inspection it was really a very perfected and complicated pleat.
"And who is the reigning champion?" Erestor asked of the contest that he, Elrond, and Faramir had absconded from earlier that day after lunch.
"Elrohir...," Glorfindel muttered, pouting.
The named twin just grinned. "You blushed before me, Glor', not my fault."
"Right, but cheating at this afternoon's spar was just greedy of you," Glorfindel said.
Elrohir just rolled his eyes. "Believe whatever heals your wounded pride... but be glad that is all that is wounded," he said, again using one of Glorfindel's favorite axioms on him.
Erestor was patiently unbraiding Glor's hair so that he could run his fingers through it and just that made Glorfindel feel a million times better. "Let us have a song," he suggested. "I've not lead a chorus in years! Remember that song we sang the night Thorin's troupe came in?"
It was telling of how late the years had grown when Aragorn was the only one present who remembered that night. The twins had been off on patrol and Elrond and Erestor were in a state of panic trying to get the Last Homely House in some kind of condition that might provide some kind of comfort to a group of thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit. Nursery furniture would suffice for the Hobbit, but would it be strong enough for the Dwarves? It fell to Glorfindel to entertain young Estel and so it ended up that the boy was sitting on a tree branch with him and a dozen other Elves all singing a ridiculous song of "welcome" to the wandering group.
"Let me see if i can not remember the whole thing," Glorfindel mused.
"No!" Erestor cried, immediately calming himself. "What i mean to say is you should not overwork your voice or tax your memory. Just rest tonight, mela," Erestor said soothingly.
"Well, it's either me or Lindir, mela," Glorfindel said, having a good idea of why Erestor was not keen on hearing him sing. He'd made it rather clear that night after the Dwarves had been accommodated that he did not think that their song was exactly a fitting welcome to Thorin Oakenshield. "I still do not see what is the matter with 'trill-lil-lil-lolly,' at least it's not 'hey ho merry dol' and 'ring-a-dong-a-dillo'" Glorfindel said sullenly.
"Actually," Erestor said, utterly ignoring his lover's nonsense, "i was rather hoping that we might hear something new to Imladris. Perhaps a song from Gondor, Faramir?"
"Me? No, i couldn't, Erestor... i don't -" Faramir protested, suddenly finding himself caught unawares.
"I have seen some of the songs you have penned. Come, if we enjoy Bilbo's songs we will enjoy yours," Glorfindel encouraged.
"You have inherited your father's voice, let us hear what you have," Erestor said, knowing how proud it made Faramir feel to be compared to his father.
Blushing slightly, Faramir consented. "There is one song that might be appropriate here. It is not glad, though it is hopeful, even if it is song of the War. Well, much of what i will sing i did not see, but others did... Master Lindir, might a borrow your lyre?" Taking up the instrument and quickly getting a feel for this particular one, Faramir began softly:
"So here we stand between the gates
Upon the dawn the eagle waits
His tallons shine like daggers
On the wings of revolution
In pain the madman staggers
But there is no solution
Another sword upon a throne
But now the jester laughs alone
Beneath this cloak of treason
Appears a thousand faces
The truth must stand to reason
For those who's heart it chases
Beyond the compass, where the lords assemble
Beyond the world of mortal man
Within this sanctuary the spectre begins to tremble
They lay his spear upon the plan
On a sea of diamonds lies a ship of glass
Through the mist the torches pass
Their banners fly in splendour
The ghosts of night decended
With grace their souls surrender
The seal must be defended
Still the dragons reign supreme
Breathing fire till we scream
They leave us nothing but our dreams
No shield can save us ...
Stand clear, there's storm above
And there is something left to fear
All speed, before the blade is drawn
And there is blood upon the seed
Let no one yield we're on the field
Where deeds eclipse the sun
Where the brave are told on a thread of gold
The tapestry is spun
As they speak of dreams their amour gleams
There's calm before the storm
But all can see their destiny
The bishop takes the pawn
In the sky the arrows fly
Each one to it's mark
Defend the true lead us through
This voyage in the dark
Make us strong you know right from wrong
Teach us what it's worth
For every heart that aches is what it takes
To save our mother earth
Lay your life upon the line
It's death for glory every time
You give up yours and I'll keep mine
No shield can save us ...
So here we stand between the gates
Upon the dawn the eagle waits
His tallons shine like daggers
On the wings of a revolution
In the pain the madman staggers
But there is no solution
Still the dragons reign supreme
Breathing fire till we scream
They leave us nothing but our dreams
No shield can save us ..."
Faramir ended as softly as he began and quickly passed the instrument back to Lindir, who scarcely came back to his senses enough to accept it. The only Elf present who had ever expected such talent from this young Man of Gondor was Elrond himself, all the others were duly impressed and gave an ovation most appreciatively. Faramir's song left them much to ponder and did indeed give them a sense of hope for the race of Men, that there were some who would not go to war willingly for any reason, but would still be willing to die for the right reason. Though Faramir would deny it, he did understand more about why men became soldiers than he let on; he himself had done so, for the right reasons.
ooo
The song used here is The Miracle by Emerson, Lake, and Powell (ugh... i think i am giving away my age now!) Long have i avoided the temptation to use a song in a fic as i have seen how horribly awry that usually goes, but... this is one that, i think, actually makes sense!
flowerbee: More to catch up on. Hope it makes you happy!
linda: Poor Faramir, the one who needs the sleep the most, too! Leave it to Glor'. At least he got his rest though. I can't imagine how draining a palantir must be to use... probably almost as bad a computer.
Elenhin: Don't you just love the twins! I can promise that they will keep twin sets of eyes on both Aragorn and Faramir.
A spirit stove in a canoe? But didn't you hear about the man who was rowing a kayak and got cold out there in the icy northern waters, so lit a fire in the boat. The boat, of course, burnt up, proving that you can't have your kayak and heat it too. I will immediately beg forgiveness for such a truly terrible pun. Anyway, i have been in a canoe on a few occasions. Once in a lake, once in a river. I was a lot more comfortable in the river than in the lake. In the lake i just kept feeling like we were going to tip the whole time. At least the river kept us moving along pretty well and steering around rocks, and thus distracted.
I shall definitelycheck out David Eddings some time. Sounds very entertaining. What are some particular titles i should look for?