Hey guys. I have a new story I'm attempting to work on, but could use some help naming the elves. If you would be so kind as to send me names you've thought up (please no 'borrowing' from other authors) and what gender they are, you'll eventually see them, if you keep reading.
Chapter 27 Let any ask
"Wel… welcome," Elleri recovered, smiling a bit awkwardly as he took in the beings behind the expected elves of Imladris. He looked questioningly at Glorfindel, who smiled slightly.
"It seems our messages were both incomplete. We came for your brother's wedding, they for that of Ashes. Perhaps you know where they might be found?"
"No might about it. If you are all in search of them…?"
"I don't know what they're after, but we'll be seeing Ashes, if she is still here."
"Why wouldn't she be here when she plans to marry?"
"Ashes hasn't stayed anywhere for long in more than my lifetime."
"Perhaps not," Elleri agreed quietly. "But she stayed here for over eleven hundred years before leaving, and hasn't yet left once returning, save in duty."
The dwarf snorted and glared. "Well? Where is she?"
Elleri managed to keep himself from returning the glare, just imagining what Rin would say to that, should she find out. He was, after all, a prince, and had made a big deal in times past about not being allowed to simply be an ordinary elf, as he had to be held to somewhat higher standards. Surely, she would argue, that would include civil treatment of guests?
He collected himself and decided not to bother trying to encourage them to stop in their rooms first—no doubt they were intended for the rooms Silrinil had been having cleaned out. "She is, most likely, in the training field, sparring with her Captain."
"Really?" Glorfindel mused, before inclining his head slightly and moving to head that way.
The others followed, Elleri watching the dwarves as warily as they watched him.
When they reached the field, they found themselves faced with several backs—the elves were, as ever, forming a ring of observers around the two fighters. Elleri spoke to a few of the near ones, and they allowed the circle to be opened, the dwarves crowding in a bit with many astonished looks and horrified murmurs from the elves who noticed them.
As for the fighters themselves, they were aware of nothing beyond each other. Darting in and out, blades high and then low, there was nothing between them that could be considered a wasted move, a failed effort. Light hair fanned out with the movements of one, a dark cape of longish hair moving to the movements of the other. Their weapons gleamed, sparking intensely as they met.
Some speculation rang out among the elves, guessing who would win this one, considering the number of weapons that they had already used, the times they could retrieve them… how they seemed to be in relation to previously observed fights.
"As if anyone could beat Ashes!" one of the dwarves bellowed.
Both fighters faltered at the gratingly loud voice that was obviously not elven.
Legolas's blade hadn't been countered as they had both expected, their moves already planned beyond it.
It ripped through her tunic, through her shirt.
"Oh, Eru!" Legolas exclaimed, dropping his weapons as he reached for her.
Her weapons had fallen from shock-numbed fingers as well, and she had lifted a hand up over the gap in the material.
"Love?" Legolas asked softly, trying to move her hand to see what had been done by their moment of distraction.
She removed her hand slowly, looking almost curiously at the blood upon it. She stopped Legolas's muttered swearing by lightly placing a finger on his lips, leaving a splash of color. "It's just a shallow cut," she murmured. "It was mostly the binding you felt it tear through."
He was far from agreeing with her. "It's not just anything. Come on. Off to the healers."
"Legolas!"
"Now," he declared flatly, pinning her with an intense glare.
"When my guests have just arrived?" she asked, tilting her head at the new arrivals.
"They can be greeted properly when you're no longer bleeding," he muttered, unlacing his tunic. He wrapped it around her, moving her arms through the sleeves when she didn't, and closed it as best he could, glad it laced at the sides rather than the front. "Let's go."
She sighed, looked back at the dwarves and the elves from Imladris, and inclined her head slightly. With a few dwarven words she glanced around until she spotted Elleri. "Be sure they're shown to the rooms I've had prepared," she murmured, before allowing Legolas to drag her off. "Legolas!" she laughed once they were out of the mass of elves. "I'm—"
She was cut off by a sudden kiss as he pulled her to the side of the hall. He shuddered slightly, kissing her once more. "You're still bleeding," he murmured at last, drawing back enough to gently move the folds of material. He studied the wound objectively, and shook his head slightly. "I take back everything I've ever said or thought about you binding your chest for Service events."
She laughed softly and decided not to protest when he took her hand, leading her down the hall to her room. He unlocked it, gently pushed her inside, and locked it behind them. After discarding his sheaths and the one blade he still had on his person, he pushed her back to the bed, pulling her along until she was stretched out, arms over her head.
"Stay," he half-growled, kissing her quickly.
As if she would want to leave, she mused, watching him walk into the bathing room. She closed her eyes and waited.
Soon the layers of material were slowly eased away—his tunic, hers, her undershirt, then, finally, the saving layers of crimson dappled white which had so annoyed him previously when he had to unwrap rather than cut her out of them.
After a quick, distracting kiss to the small scar under her right breast, warm water slowly eased over the wound, cleaning it up until it could be objectively observed. "Not deep at all," he agreed at last.
"Oh. So I was right about something?"
He chuckled softly and kissed her before getting up. "Which one?"
"The black container," she murmured, looking down at her wound. "What are we going to do when my stores run out?"
"Either take a trip to get more, or start storing things from the healers," he replied, returning to apply the bit of paste he'd thinned out of the nearly solid stuff she had made.
"They're likely to start feeling we don't trust them," she murmured.
He smiled. "They'll understand when the story reaches them. They know how much better one heals when tended by their mate."
She opened her eyes again to smile at him, watching his long finger smooth over the wound. "It should be fine soon."
"Which is very good, because I can't imagine Ada being all that keen on dwarves staying here if we have to put the ceremony off."
With a quiet laugh she reached up, bringing him closer for a series of gentle kisses.
He was smiling softly as he rested his hand over her wound, wishing it better as quickly as possible. They rested there for a time, content now that her wound was dealt with and they were alone.
Eventually, they had to stir. Legolas lifted his head from the pillow first, his fingers running tenderly from her breast to her thigh and back up again, slowly rousing her from her slight doze. "We should go, love," he murmured.
"Before your father throws my guests in the dungeon again?" she suggested.
Legolas chuckled. "A simple misunderstanding," he murmured, his grin knowing it hadn't been. "Estel got over it."
"I don't think Thranduil has, though."
"He's not rethinking you, you know," he told her softly, watching her with some concern.
"No. Because he was never very sure of us to begin with."
"Well, from his standpoint it is a bit odd."
"A bit, but not very much. Only those who didn't know us at the time have been crude enough to suggest anything wrong happened."
"And the others may still think it."
"Does it so much matter, Legolas? The fact that we were bound negates all other arguments—we were meant to be together, were intended as mates. Nothing else, no other objection, can stand up against that."
"Perhaps not. But he has to hear it from any bold enough to speak."
She shrugged. "Enough. Let them deal with it. If any will listen, let them hear the truth. We don't deny it—let any ask."
He smiled at her, shaking his head before getting up. "You would make an interesting advisor, love."
"I thought I already was," she mused.
He looked back at her and smiled faintly as he walked to the wardrobe, removing a new set of shirts for them both. "Perhaps," he agreed, looking curiously at his empty sword sheath. "I hope Elleri gathered our blades."
"He set them outside the door a while ago," she answered softly, slowly fastening her shirt.
Legolas waited until certain she didn't need his help before retrieving the weapons. He looked back at her. "Well, advisor of mine, what weapons should be worn?"
"They knew me wary, but you are to be my husband and are also the crowned prince. No more than two."
"And you?"
She glanced at the sword over the door. "I thought I might wear my father's sword. I carried it for so long, and their craftsmen loved to study it, though they were never able to reproduce its like."
"I've never seen you wear it."
"I couldn't, at first—it was a giveaway. Then… why? I had another sword so it wouldn't be damaged nor even used save in direst need. It seemed right to put it back where it had been for so long."
He shrugged slightly and pulled her to her feet. They unthinkingly checked each other, then left her room, finding the elves from Imladris waiting in the hall not far away, debating what to do.
"Ah, Legolas! Ashes," Elladan inclined his head slightly.
"Will you give us your true name, now?" Elrond asked.
She smiled, inclining her head slightly. "Silrinil."
"Lady Silrinil," Glorfindel corrected softly.
She shrugged slightly, her fingers resting on the sword at her side.
Elrond's eyes suddenly widened, having followed the motion. "Where did you get that blade?"
"I inherited it," she sighed. "It was my father's from the moment it was cooled from being crafted."
"It appears to be from Gondolin," Elrond murmured, frowning.
"It is," she and Glorfindel replied simultaneously.
"Noldor?" Legolas asked at last in the silence that had befallen them.
"Surely you guessed?" she asked, tilting her head.
He shook his head slightly. "I knew your parents were not from the wood, but even Ada—" He stilled, and suddenly smirked. "Even Ada never knew where they were from."
"Because they came from the wilds," she replied faintly. "They wandered for many years after the fall of Gondolin. When I was born they thought it best to find a place among other elves to rest, for a time, before heading west."
"And they chose Mirkwood because the elves are a bit more wild?" Legolas asked dryly.
She shrugged. "Most likely, but I hardly remember."
With a nod he accepted that. "Then none can claim your blood isn't good enough for a crowned prince," he murmured with a slight smile.
"Has it been a consideration?"
"By some," he admitted, shaking his head. "They worry because you were a wanderer."
"And the first of the Noldor to reach these shores weren't?" she snorted.
A small smile turned his lips as he reached out to release the tie at her nape. "Well. We should see to your guests."
"As we've been agreeing," she murmured, lifting a brow at him. She led him—and the others—to the rooms prepared for the dwarves. She switched to dwarven almost at once, leaving the elves for the most part utterly clueless. Legolas could catch a little bit, but only a word here or there—his lessons had been too long ago, this speech far too rapid.
Suddenly, with a small motion from her, he was under scrutiny. "Love?" he asked softly, rather uncomfortable.
"I've explained who you are."
"Entirely, I take it?"
"They knew most of the story, anyway."
He snorted. It would be safe to tell a dwarf. Hardly likely it would ever get back to any elf, much less him. "Shall I be guarding my lower limbs?"
She shrugged, earning a glare that set the dwarves to chuckling.
One of them nodded at him, popped a pipe into his mouth, and then turned the dark eyes back up to Silrinil. "You've our approval with this one," he inclined his head slightly towards Legolas.
"Well, good. As by a quirk of our creation, we are already wed."
The dwarf snorted and turned about, heading into one of the rooms again with a grunt.
Silrinil smiled faintly when all the dwarves had similarly retreated. "They've no great love for elves. They shall likely spend most of their time within their rooms, as I've promised they can ask meals sent to them."
Legolas lifted a brow. "Ada may thank you for that."
She laughed. "He certainly hasn't thanked me for Estel."
"Estel is here?" Elrohir perked up. "Where?"
"Last I saw of him he was deep in conversation with Verine," Legolas mused. "Elrond?"
Elrond blinked in shock at the sudden address. "Yes?"
"Have you decided?"
After a moment, the Imladris lord understood. "Why me?"
Legolas grimaced slightly. "It is a bit awkward being married by my father, you must admit."
"I rather think it would be an honor to be allowed to perform the ceremony for a child of mine," Elrond countered quietly. "I am, frankly, loathe to deny Thranduil this chance."
"He has three other children," Legolas murmured.
"But only one is to be his heir."
Silrinil snorted. "Elrond, you have felt the forces stirring—evil grows, spreads. It will not slumber peacefully ever again. The confrontation is coming. It will destroy any who stand idly by. The time of the elves on these shores is ending. All will go west and be forgotten, or remain here and be destroyed. There will be no succession in Mirkwood." She tilted her head back, gazing straight into his eyes. "Which well you know, ring-bearer."
Elrond's shock was so obvious his sons grew concerned. "You have seen much that is hidden to the eyes of the wise, Lady Silrinil."
"Wandering is the past of all the great," she murmured. "For only through such discovery can knowledge beyond that of stationary books be learned."
"You have indeed taken your father's place," Glorfindel murmured.
She smiled faintly. "It matters little. The only thing of interest at the moment is whether or not Elrond will perform the ceremony."
"I still hesitate," Elrond said after a pause.
"For Thranduil? He is there as Legolas's father, and that shall be enough. For the wood—does it matter?"
Elrond lifted a brow. "If she is like her father, it is no wonder the lines of communication out of the wood broke down."
Silrinil frowned faintly, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. Legolas shook his head. "He urged them kept open, Lord Elrond. They shut down only after his death."
Dark grey eyes lifted for a moment, catching on him for a moment before she relaxed faintly. "So? What say you, Elrond?"
After a long moment, he nodded. "Very well. It is, of course, an honor… which I still worry I will not sufficiently be able to fulfill."
"It is merely a matter of ceremony, which you know," she replied quietly. "Though I thank you for not revealing that to Thranduil."
"The time was not yet right," he murmured faintly, staring at her.
She half-smiled and nodded, before turning to look at Glorfindel. "My lord, I wonder if I might ask something of you?"
"Of course you may," he mused, frowning faintly.
She hesitated for a moment. "I have no one to stand as family for me, as those closest to being such are Legolas's kin. You are the closest to blood I have on these shores."
Glorfindel inclined his head slightly. "That is true, my lady."
She lifted a brow and sighed, a faint quirk to her lips as she stared at him. "Very well. I'll ask. Would you stand for me tomorrow?"
He smiled, inclining his head once more. "It seems most fitting… as I stood for your mother long ago."
She rolled her eyes. "When everyone seems to think me so like my father?"
"He was the one people noticed, my lady, but you have her stubborn patience, which is something—even among the elves."
She quirked a brow, clearly not believing him, but smiled faintly before leaving them to heed the nervous servant who had been shifting from foot to foot. "Yes?"
"The King would like to see you, my lady," he murmured, bowing his head deeply.
Silrinil sighed and nodded slightly. "Very well. Where is he?"
"His study, my lady." He bowed again before bowing even more deeply to Legolas, looked at the strange lords in near horror before bowing quickly one last time and fleeing.
She glared after him.
Legolas chuckled, shaking his head. "Get used to it."
She snorted and started walking quickly down the hall.
Legolas grinned fondly, almost seeing her absent cape snapping and flaring behind her.