Folks, somebody's getting marrrried! Also, there are nekkid Elves in this chapter. ("Hey!" protests a reader, 'somebody's unwrapped my Christmas gift!")
Andi-Black: More 'ejaculations' coming up.
Legosgurl: For shame! You are backsliding on your breathing exercises! And coke up your nose! Really! Next thing you know you'll be indulging in pipeweed and 'shrooms'. Elrond really needs to give you a good talking to. Or maybe I should unleash Erestor on you. Yes, that's what I'll do. A lecture from him would serve you right!
Terreis: You'll have to continue worrying over Legolas' marital prospects because I'm not done with him yet!
Vocabulary
elleth—elf maiden
ellith—elf maidens
Malthenêl—'Golden Star', niece of Glorfindel and twin of Malthenrî
Malthenrî—'Golden Wreath', niece of Glorfindel and twin of Malthenêl
naneth—mother
nanith—mothers
Chapter 57: Things Fall Apart
At dinner, Elrond sat Legolas next to Arwen, and he smiled innocently at Legolas when the young Elf cast him an aggrieved look.
"I do think Ada is enjoying this," grinned Elladan as he handed a plate of fruit to Elrohir.
"True," replied his twin. "I have not seen him so amused since Mithrandir got that sticky bun stuck in his beard."
"Ah, yes," sighed Elladan nostalgically. "You were a remarkably good shot with sticky buns."
"I am sure that I should still be a good shot if I had an occasion to throw one."
Elrohir looked around the room.
"If I were still inclined to wield sticky buns, I should try to land one in Tathar's hair. It wants an ornament, don't you think?"
Elladan studied the carpenter from Mirkwood.
"Yes, he would look very good with a brown knob on his crown—in theory only, of course."
Elrohir picked up a bun and hefted it.
"Elrohir," warned Elladan, "you'd best not throw that. You are not an elfling, and your actions will not be met with the forbearance that they formerly enjoyed."
"Since when were they ever met with forbearance," Elrohir protested. "Ada always punished us."
Elrohir caught Legolas' eye, raised the sticky bun slightly, and pointed his chin toward Tathar. Legolas nodded back vigorously, his eyes gleaming.
"You see, Elladan," Elrohir chortled, "Legolas wants me to throw it—and as he is our honored guest, I have no choice but to comply."
Elladan sighed in resignation and decided to eat his own meal as quickly as possible so that he could escape the dining hall in advance of any battle that might feature flying dishes. As for Elrohir, he watched Elrond carefully, and when the elf-lord turned to speak to Gilglîr, Elrohir flung the bun. His aim was indeed good, and it hit Tathar above the ear, where it dangled from his braid. Tathar lifted his hand to his head, felt the sticky bun, and worked it free, wincing a little as his hair was pulled. Holding the bun, he looked around the table, eyeing each and every one of the younger Elves. At last, unable to determine the perpetrator, he shrugged and deposited the bun on the table next to his plate. It was not long before Edwen Nana noticed it.
"For shame, Tathar, wasting food in that manner. If you didn't want that bun, you shouldn't have taken it."
Elrohir had been carefully governing his countenance, but now he could not forbear smirking. Tathar caught sight of Elrohir's face and, divining that he was the culprit, resolved that he would pay back the bun with interest. He excused himself from the table and disappeared. As soon as Elrohir saw this, he likewise excused himself and anxiously followed after Tathar, taking care to keep out of sight, of course. To the relief of the Rivendell Elf, the Mirkwood carpenter merely wandered into the garden and settled himself onto a bench beside the fountain.
"Ah, I feared that he was going to plot some mischief," Elrohir said to himself. "On second thought, though," he added, "I'll just go and lock the door to my chamber so that, should he later determine on some plan of revenge, at least he won't be able to stage it in my room. I have need of my bedchamber later this evening and don't want buckets of paint falling on my head!"
Elrohir made his way to his room and securely locked the door from the outside. Most Elves don't bother with locks, but Elrohir had found that it was sometimes necessary to barricade his door against the onslaught of indignant ellith or, worse, the parents of said indignant ellith. Usually the lock would hold long enough for Elrond to arrive in time both to smooth the ruffled feelings of parents and to prevail upon the nanith to smooth the ruffled skirts of maidens. Once, however, a particularly clever naneth enlisted the help of a Dwarf who was visiting at the time. That doughty fellow struck off the lock with one blow of his axe, and when Elrond arrived to rescue Elrohir, he found him cowering under his bed, whence the naneth had been trying to sweep him through vigorous application of a broom. It took a great deal of cajoling on Elrond's part before he was able to persuade the naneth to abandon the effort so that a very embarrassed and very dusty Elrohir could crawl forth. After that incident, Elrohir had had to spend many weeks patrolling on the Dunland border before Elrond would permit him to return to Rivendell.
This night, however, there were no Dwarves in residence, and Elrohir was certain that the lock would hold, both against plotting guests and outraged parents. He cheerfully returned to the Hall of Fire and set his sights on his selected paramour for the night. This was Malthenêl, whom he had been pursuing for several decades and who seemed at last on the verge of succumbing to his blandishments.
"Malthenêl," he said to her as the hours wore on in the Hall of Fire, "these songs and tales are all very well, but don't you think it rather noisy tonight, what with all these guests from Mirkwood. Let's go to my chamber, where it will be quiet. There I will build a fire as cozy as any lit in this hall, I assure you."
Malthenêl looked slantwise at Elrohir, considering. She knew very well the nature of the 'fire' Elrohir was planning to kindle. At last, however, she decided that she could 'stand the heat', and she consented to accompany Elrohir to his chamber.
Whilst Malthenêl and Elrohir were withdrawing to Elrohir's chamber, Legolas was trying to summon the courage to speak to Malthenêl's twin, Malthenrî. Somehow he had found himself escorting Arwen the entire evening—Elrond's doing again!—but at last he managed to hand her off to Tathar, who had reappeared, saying he had gone out for a breath of air in the garden. Unencumbered by his putative 'fiancée', Legolas now moved toward a knot of young Elves, in the midst of which stood Malthenrî. She was by no means neglected! This circumstance made Legolas feel less guilty about not having sent any messages to her during all the long months he had been away in Mirkwood. He was soon to learn that he needn't have felt any guilt at all.
"Malthenrî," said one of the Elves, "when do you depart for Lothlórien?"
"Not for another month entire," Malthenrî replied.
"How can you bear the delay?" asked one elleth breathlessly.
"What is a month to an Elf?" replied Malthenrî casually. "Besides," she giggled, "no matter how long I must wait, I will still have an eternity to spend with my belovéd."
"True," replied the elleth, and there was laughter all around—save on the part of Legolas, who gaped. Malthenrî smiled at him and took his hand.
"Here is someone I have known in former times. Please excuse me whilst I talk with him so that we may become reacquainted. I have not seen him in a long time."
The other Elves murmured assent and drifted away. Malthenrî gave Legolas' hand a gentle squeeze.
"I am sorry that you learned of my engagement in such a casual manner. I meant to talk with you privately."
"You should not be sorry. I said I would send you messages, but I never did."
"Nor did I, Legolas. I think that it must now be plain to us both that the attraction we felt for each other was a superficial one—but first loves often are, my nana tells me."
Legolas was relieved to know that she had not been hurt by his neglect. Then he became curious as to her intended.
"Your betrothed lives in Lothlórien. Who is he?"
"Rúmil."
"Rúmil!"
"You are surprised. Why?"
"Rúmil is so, so—wild!"
"Exactly," teased Malthenrî. "Would you have me espouse Haldir instead?"
"Of course not," laughed Legolas. "I had forgotten the tales of your unruly youth. You and Rúmil are of a piece and will be very pleased one with the other!"
"Yes, I think that is so."
"Of course," Legolas groaned in mock distress, "once my father hears of this, he will hold the two of you up as another example to me. 'You see, Legolas', he will say, 'your friends Malthenrî and Rúmil have gotten married. Whatever is keeping you?'"
"Well, whatever is keeping you? Anyone you asked would agree to marry you on the instant. I would have!"
"Ah, but you have already conceded that our love was superficial. One doesn't want to marry on that basis. Wouldn't it have been dreadful for you if you'd married me and then discovered you truly loved Rúmil? An eternity is a long time to be married to the wrong Elf!"
"True. I must say that I am glad you didn't ask. I hope I do not offend you by saying so."
"No, indeed, you do not. And I am glad that now there is one promise I may make you that I can be sure of keeping. I will visit you and Rúmil in Lothlórien. It is much easier for me to journey to that place than it is to the more distant Imladris. I shall see you again—as my dear friend."
The two exchanged kisses and parted, both happy at how things had turned out.
By the time this conversation had concluded, Elrohir and Malthenêl had safely ensconced themselves within Elrohir's chamber. For a little while they sat quietly looking at the fire. Finally Malthenêl stirred restlessly.
"My Nana insisted on my wearing this gown tonight, but it is cut too tight around the neck. I begged her to allow me to set it aside to be altered, but she said it was my finest gown and I ought to wear it in honor of Prince Legolas."
"Oh, that is too bad," said Elrohir sympathetically. "I know what it is to wear a garment that is too tight."
"I am sure you do," Malthenêl said to herself, suppressing a smile.
They sat in silence for awhile longer. At last Malthenêl sighed. Elrohir was immediately all solicitousness.
"I could unfasten the top bottom—I mean, the top button," he offered helpfully.
"Oh, could you? I am sure I should feel much more comfortable if you did!"
Malthenêl lifted her hair from the back of her neck, and Elrohir undid the fastener.
"There. Is that better?"
"Much better."
They resumed staring pensively at the fire. Again Malthenêl sighed.
"Now that my neck is no longer constrained, I am much more aware of how tight the garment is at other points, such as across my brea—chest, for example."
Elrohir, ever helpful, offered to undo a few more buttons.
"Yes, thank you," said Malthenêl gratefully.
Of course, now Malthenêl came to realize how tight the dress was about her waist, and so Elrohir obligingly undid a few more buttons. Then a new problem arose. The bodice began to slip from Malthenêl's shoulders. First it would slip from her left shoulder. She would hitch it up; then it would slip from her right shoulder. After struggling with the garment for several minutes, she cried out in vexation, "Oh, this dress is such a bother." Of course, this was the 'opening' Elrohir had been waiting for.
"As it is so troublesome, perhaps you would like to dispense with it. I could give you a blanket to wrap in."
"Oh, could you?" breathed Malthenêl.
"I could indeed," Elrohir gallantly declared, and he promptly fetched a wrap for her. As the Fair Folk did not and do not now wear anything as vulgar as 'knickers', this meant that there was now nothing more substantial than a loosely draped blanket between Elrohir and his intended—except his own garments, of course, which consisted of tunic and leggings (again, no knickers).
"Ah, I am so very comfortable," cooed Malthenêl. "It is quite delightful to finally shed that constricting garment. But, Elrohir, your tunic looks to be made out of wool. Why ever did you choose such a garment on a night as warm as this? And we have been sitting in front of a fire, too! You must be very uncomfortable."
Elrohir allowed as how he was uncomfortable. "But I didn't want to mention it," he added quickly.
"For shame, Elrohir, that you should feel compelled to remain uncomfortable in your own chamber."
"You wouldn't mind if I removed my tunic?"
"Of course not! After all, you have been so courteous as to permit me to dispense with my dress. It would be churlish of me to insist that you must keep on your tunic."
"That is very kind of you," exclaimed Elrohir, whose fingers flew down the front of his tunic. In a trice said garment had been discarded upon the floor.
The romantic duo resumed staring thoughtfully at the fire. After awhile, Elrohir squirmed a little bit and grimaced.
"Is there something wrong, Elrohir?" asked Malthenêl, her voice full of concern.
"It is such a trifle—I hesitate to mention it—but, but, well, my leggings are made of wool as well!"
"Oh, you poor dear! I have always thought that it must be dreadful to have to wear leggings. I mean, they must be so confining about the, about the, the—the body! Yes, the body!"
"Dreadfully confining! At times unbearably so! Why, there have been occasions when I have wished to, to, to—to simply rip them off and fling them aside!"
"Oh, Elrohir," cried Malthenêl, carried away by the emotion of the moment, "let this be one of those occasions! Cast aside the offending garment!"
"I will, Lady," ejaculated Elrohir, who immediately suited actions to words—although he then at once crossed his legs and put his hands in his lap. After a little while had passed, Elrohir cleared his throat.
"The only problem with dispensing with leggings is that the floor is rather hard on, on, one's parts," he observed ruefully.
Malthenêl looked about the room.
"None of your chairs are upholstered," she pointed out. "We had best go sit on the bed."
"Ah, yes, that would be a solution," said Elrohir gratefully.
The two arose and paced toward the bed. Malthenêl lost grip of her blanket when she stood up, but Elrohir graciously encircled her in his arms and thus protected her modesty from—well, actually, no one but he was in the room, but, to do him credit, he would have been protecting her modesty from someone if anyone had been there.
The two would-be lovers arrived at the bed and tried to gracefully crawl into the center. Even for an Elf, said maneuver can be somewhat difficult when one is naked—not to crawl into the center of a bed but to do so gracefully. However, they were near accomplishing the feat when something unexpected happened: the bottom fell out of their world.
Actually, to be more precise, the bottom fell out of the bed, and the headboard, footboard, and sideboards toppled inward. Malthenêl screamed, and Elrohir swore. The bed had quite folded itself up around them, and it took much flailing before they were able to crawl free of the frame. Meanwhile, the crash and the cries had drawn attention, and Elrond was pounding on the door, which, fortunately Elrohir had thought to lock behind them when they had entered the chamber.
"Elrohir," called Elrond. "Elrohir, whatever is the matter? Are you hurt?"
"No, Ada. There is nothing the matter."
"Then what was that crash? And why were you shouting? And who was screaming?"
"My bed collapsed, Ada. That's all."
"Your bed collapsed? Impossible! That bed is very sturdy. Whatever would have caused it to collapse?"
"Well, Ada, it was a very old bed."
"Nonsense! You talk as if it were constructed in the First Age, whereas it dates only from the end of the Second. Now open up this door and let me see."
A long pause.
"Um, Ada, I am not alone in here."
"Ah," said Elrond grimly, "I thought that the screaming was rather high-pitched. You've got an elleth in there with you, haven't you?"
A very long pause. Elrohir knew that his father's eyebrows were now at full staff.
"Elrohir," Elrond resumed when the silence grew oppressive, "you left the Hall of Fire in company with Malthenêl, is that not so?"
"Yes, Ada."
"Glorfindel's niece."
"Yes, Ada."
"Lucky for you he is on patrol, else he would dismember you! And he still may once he finds out what you have been up to!"
Elrohir shuddered at the thought of losing any vital bits. "She will return to her own chamber straightaway," he called.
"See that she does," huffed Elrond, who stomped away, his footsteps resounding as loudly as if he were a Man.
Elrohir himself now proceeded to behave rather mannishly, for he fumbled over the buttons in a very unelvenly fashion as he helped Malthenêl back into her garments. Once all her fastenings were sorted out, he cautiously opened the door and looked up and down the hallway. No one was about. Quickly Elrohir and Malthenêl kissed, and then she slipped away to rejoin her age mates in their chamber, where they were eagerly awaiting her report. Ai! It would be more abbreviated than she would have wished!
Once Malthenêl had left, Elrohir turned his attention to the collapsed bed. It had been held together with wooden pegs, and it did not take Elrohir long to realize that the pegs had been removed. The bed had been carefully propped so that nothing looked amiss, but when sufficient pressure had been placed upon the frame, it had fallen to pieces. Elrohir hunted about a bit and found the pegs neatly lined up on the windowsill. Elrohir had already suspected and now he knew for a certainty that the person who had removed the pegs had both entered and exited through the window.
"I should have known," Elrohir said gloomily, "that any friend of Legolas would be as skilled as he at scaling walls. How could I have been so foolish as to think that a locked door would have been proof against a Mirkwood Elf!?"
At the breakfast table next morning Elrohir glowered at Tathar, but the carpenter was unabashed.
"You look a little tired this morning, Elrohir," he said with cheerfulness that Elrohir found very irksome. "Did you not sleep well?"
"I have passed better nights," growled Elrohir.
"Pity," said Tathar. "I slept very well last night. I must say that Rivendell beds are very comfortable, and well-made, too, after the old fashion—sturdy lengths of oak held securely together by pegs. Under normal use, such beds are indestructible. But I am sure you know that, Elrohir," the Mirkwood Elf added, grinning impishly.
Elrond sensed that something was up, and he gazed inquiringly at Legolas. That Elf, however, hid his smile and fixed his attention upon the excellent repast that had been placed before him. Elrond caught Gilglîr's eye, but the Seneschal merely shrugged helplessly, as one who had given up the struggle to maintain order in the face of riotous youthfulness.
To be fair, it must be noted that Tathar, before he departed Rivendell with the other Mirkwood Elves, did put Elrohir's bed back together again. It was long, however, before Elrohir gave over crawling beneath the bed and inspecting it each night—and especially on those occasions when he had hopes that the frame would be sturdy enough to bear more than a single Elf! There is, however, no mention in the chronicles of his bed ever having again collapsed, so apparently his fears were groundless. Still, one cannot blame him for exercising caution. Had his bed been in the habit of folding up at inopportune moments, no doubt at last the ellith would have come to eschew his chamber, and for Elrohir, of all Elves, that would have been a most dreadful outcome! Happily, however, the ellith did not learn to avoid Elrohir's room, and, should I be spared to continue my research into the elven chronicles, be sure I shall try to narrate several other interludes of a romantic nature that involve said chamber.