Here's the new chapter everyone! And I'm in a very happy jubilant mood! My boyfriend and I have reconciled! I'm falling in love all over again!
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It was a beautiful morning in Minas Tirith as Gondor's ruling king strode towards the royal nursery. From the silly noises that were coming from the room, accompanied by the sound of children's delightful laughter, he deduced that a play was busily in session. That brought a genuine smile to his lips, a first in many weeks since his son ran away from home.
Trying not to think much of Eldarion, which would only add more to his already mounting worry, Aragorn pushed open the door and stepped inside. He froze in his tracks and gaped, astonished by what he saw.
Discarding all customs and protocols, Lord Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen was carelessly sprawled on the floor, making funny faces at his two grandsons.
"Gibbee, gibbee, yabba, yabba," the elven king growled, nipping playfully at the little boys' tummy. The toddlers giggled and shrieked, their chubby faces pinked with uncontained joy.
"Say 'grandfather'," Thranduil urged, keeping them trapped within his arms. "Say it and I'll let you both go."
"Grampa! Grampa!" the two elflings cried. They clapped their hands when they received their grandfather's approval, "Well done! Smart little warriors, aren't you?"
Kissing the top of his grandsons' heads, Thranduil sat upright and gathered them together on his lap. Without looking, he ordered, "Shut your mouth before you catch flies, Aragorn. Haven't you seen an elf played with their young ones before?"
Chuckling, a bit embarrassed for being caught staring, Aragorn walked over to sit near Thranduil. He chucked both elflings under the chin before replying, "Oh, I have. Many times. But to see you at it is as rare as seeing an orc smile, my lord."
Thranduil scowled at the man. "I'm not that bad."
"Please, I mean no offense," Aragorn assured, patting the elf's shoulder. He reached over and collected one of the small twins into his embrace. Linden, the dark-haired toddler, went willingly into his arms.
"In fact, I admire you for it, my lord," the man continued, letting Linden played with the silver buttons on his tunic. "You are the sternest and most formidable elven king ever known. Yet, deep inside, you are as tender and loving as anybody else. Truly, you have hidden your heart well."
It was Thranduil's turn to be embarrassed.
"These are my grandsons. Of course, I dote on them, like any normal grandfather would," he protested, looking quite uncomfortable by the praise.
"What about your own sons? You dote on them too?" Aragorn inquired with a grin. He already expected what the answer would be.
"Those two irresponsible bratlings? Dote on them?" Thranduil snorted, his scowl grew fiercer. "Bash their heads together, I will! How dare they scare me like this. It has been weeks since they dumped their wives on me, without even bothering to send us any news of their progress and whereabouts. What a bad influence to these innocent children. I swear, Aragorn, when my sons get home, I'll flay the hides off them!"
"Don't be too hard on Legolas and Keldarion, my lord. They are helping me look for my missing son." Aragorn glanced at the opened window when a strong breeze blew in, sending the curtains dancing in the air. He stared at the sunny blue sky, his mind far away. "I wish they found Darion already."
Thranduil was thoughtful for a moment before he quietly responded, "If I knew my sons well, they would not give up until they find what they are looking for. They are relentless, my two boys. They will bring home Eldarion."
Shrugging, the elven king added, "I just hope they hurry up, though. Waiting is not my favorite pastime!"
Laughing, Aragorn agreed. He looked down at Legolas' dark-haired son sitting in his lap. "What about you, Linden? You miss your Dada too?"
"Dada! Dada!" Linden shouted, searching around for his adoring father. At once, Hadrian—his golden-haired twin—also began to fret. The two elflings joined forces then, yelling for their father at the top of their lungs.
"Great lord. I forgot how powerful their lungs are," said Aragorn with a grimace. Knowing how strongly attached the twins were to their father, he regretted mentioning the word 'Dada' to their hearing. He hoped Legolas' wife would come running at their cries and calm them down, though that would be highly unlikely. The last time he saw her, Narasene was several floors down in the ladies parlor with Arwen and the rest of the women, embroidering.
"Ai! Stop, child! You are tearing at my scalp!" Aragorn yelped when Linden's mood grew nastier. He gently pried the small fingers off his hair, looking at Thranduil for assistance.
But the elven king had his attention focused elsewhere. He was gazing without seeing at the opened window, at the curtains dancing in the breeze. Without a word, he abruptly stood and rushed towards the balcony.
"Lord Thranduil?"
Puzzled, Aragorn also rose and went to stand next to the elf. The wind was a bit stronger out there on the balcony, caressing through his hair and plastering his clothes to his body. It took him several moments to notice that Hadrian and Linden had ceased their fretting, and were snuggling meekly in their respective embrace. Maybe the young ones were enjoying the morning breeze too, like their grandfather.
"You hear that?" Thranduil suddenly asked, his voice hushed.
"Hear what, my lord?"
"The wind speaks, Aragorn. They are telling us something."
Aragorn apologetically shook his head. "I can hear the wind, but I'm afraid I'm no scholar to their language."
"Dada, Dada," Hadrian and Linden babbled excitedly to one another.
"Our sons, Aragorn." Smiling, Thranduil turned. His cobalt-blue eyes were sparkling. "Our sons are coming home."
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After three days of riding, Keldarion and his company had finally put the desert behind them, encountering no more sandstorm or any other mishaps. They crossed the bridge over the River Poros and made a brief stop at the black market to replenish their supplies before continuing on for River Anduin. The companions—the elves in particular—were vastly happy to see trees and river once again.
"That's the one and only desert for me. Good riddance!" Legolas gushed after they stopped to make camp for the night. He leaned against the nearest tree to give it a kiss and a hug. "Oh, I miss you so much!"
His chuckling companions came over and, together, they embraced the tree.
"I've been waiting to do that ever since we escaped the desert," Keldrion said when they broke away.
"Our recent adventure must have addled our brains. Normally, I'd rather kiss and hug my wife!" With a laugh, Gallard dropped onto his sleeping pallet, making himself comfortable. Placing his hands behind his head, he stared at the star-filled sky and began to sing joyously,
"Here's the story of four travelers,
Searching far for freedom.
One is kidnapped and kept as a slave,
And left abandon in sheer boredom."
"Here's the story of three travelers,
Making way through the desert.
One is struck by an arrow to his heart,
And left abandon for the buzzards."
"Here's the story of two travelers,
Trying to cross the river.
One is beaten until he burst his spleen,
And left abandon to shiver."
"Will you shut up?" Legolas scowled at the draq. "That's a horrible song!"
Gallard just laughed. "At least my voice is pleasant to hear."
"Pleasant?" Keldarion snorted. "You sound like a frog."
The draq frowned when his three companions laughed at him. His frown turned into a glare when Keldarion started to sing, using the prior song's melody,
"Here's the story of one traveler,
Flying home to his tower in the sea.
He is impaled by a sword through his wing,
And left abandon to scream like a banshee!"
"Absolutely not!" Gallard protested. "No one can harm my wing!"
That caused the others to laugh all the harder.
"Who says the song is about you?" Legolas asked, chortling with mirth.
"Indeed, draq. Why so mad?" Grinning, Keldarion picked up the water skin to take a drink. "I didn't mention your name, did I? So why…?"
Keldarion came into a stand still, the water skin held aloft. He quietly put it down, his thirst forgotten. Exchanging knowing glances with his brother, he calmly unsheathed his sword and took a defense stance.
Equally silent, Legolas picked up his bow and arrows and took position next to his brother. He was still too sore from his injuries, but he could still fight if he had to.
"Hey, what's going on?" Eldarion was bewildered by this sudden change.
"What is it, elves? You two heard something?" Gallard leaped to his feet. He had heard nothing suspicious, but the Mirkwood brothers obviously had. And he trusted their sharp senses more than anything else.
Keldarion nodded. "We have company. Many of them, about ten to twelve."
"But who are they? And what must we do?" Jumpy and nervous, Eldarion grabbed a dagger and went to stand between the two elves.
"Stay back, Darion. Let us handle this," Legolas said, stepping in front of the boy. He nocked and arrow, pulled the string taut and took aim.
"Wait! Don't shoot!" Gallard suddenly cried out, waving his arms about. "I mean it, don't shoot!"
Puzzled by draq's behavior, the others turned to stare at him.
"Why not, may I ask?" Legolas lowered his bow.
"Because you are aiming at my wife, you bloody idiot!"
Their eyes bulged with shock. "Your wife!"
"But how can you tell? It's so dark." Eldarion was clearly impressed.
"Hey, I'm her husband," Gallard replied, looking up at the sky. "I would know her scent anywhere."
True enough. Kylea and her entourage came into view shortly after. She was a shraq, a shape-shifting raven, so she appeared in her winged form. She landed gracefully on the ground, whereas the eagles—the Tasqamaran royal guards—lingered in the air above them.
As always, it was a spectacular sight when Kylea transformed herself. From a black raven, she steadily changed into a lovely, sensual woman.
All the males had their mouth gaping open—human and elves included.
"Hello, husband," greeted Kylea as she casually walked forward.
"Er…hello, wife," Gallard anxiously responded. He searched her face for any trace of displeasure, but found none.
Standing toe to toe with her husband, Kylea cupped a palm against his cheek. "You are well?"
"Um…yes. I am well and sound."
"Enough sulking?"
Gallard scowled. "I was not sulking!"
"Fine. You were not sulking. Are you ready to come home now?"
"Aren't you mad at me?"
"Kiss me and let's find out."
With a low growl, Gallard swooped his head down to claim his wife's lips. The couple kissed like they have not kissed for weeks—which was exactly the case, by the way.
Making a face at the scene, Legolas reached over to cover Eldarion's widened eyes. Beside them, Keldarion turned his gaze away, grinning and blushing uncontrollably.
"Oh, yes. I'm mad. I'm mad with wanting you." Kylea gasped for air when they broke the kiss. "Come home with me now, husband dear. I have plans for you."
"You and your plans," Gallard sighed ruefully. When he caught the pointed look she was giving him, he quickly amended, "Yes, ma'am. Anything you say."
Kylea patiently waited as her husband went to hug Eldarion. "Do not forget what I told you, boy."
"I won't. I truly appreciate your advice," the young prince replied. "And I thank you for rescuing me, Gallard. I hope I can repay it someday."
"You don't have to. Be a good son to your family, Darion. That is enough payment for me."
The draq said goodbye to the brothers next, amid crushing embrace and lots of backslappings.
"Keep your eye on your baby brother," he told Keldarion. "I won't be around to pluck him out of silly scrapes."
Legolas grinned when he heard that. "And you must remember that thing I've suggested, about having the heart-to-heart talk with you wife."
Gallard frowned back. "I will remember. I just don't know if that will work!"
As the couple prepared to take off, Kylea turned back around and said, "Oh, I nearly forgot, your highnesses. Your wives are currently lodging in Minas Tirith, waiting for the both of you to return."
At this, the brothers froze.
"They are?" Legolas was in disbelief. He was slowly turning very white.
"But how? They are supposed to be in Eryn Lasgalen," Keldarion wondered out loud.
"How, indeed?" Kylea smiled. "Lord Thranduil himself escorted them there a couple of weeks ago."
"He is in Minas Tirith too?" the brothers exclaimed. "Our very own father?"
"Looks like you are in for another 'adventure'." Gallard was laughing now. "Err…good luck, my friends!"
The king and queen of Tasqamaran took off at a run, hand in hand, and leaped into the air in different forms. They circled the area several times before flying straight towards the sea where their kingdom was, followed closely by their royal guards.
"Wow." Eldarion was still staring at the sky even though he couldn't see the birds anymore. "I wished I could fly like them."
"And I wished I could make myself invisible," Legolas muttered, sitting down hard on the ground. He rubbed his belly, which was beginning to ache all over again.
Wearing identical glum expression, Keldarion slumped down next to his brother. "Ai! Father is going to kill us both!"
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The next day before dusk, they reached the small dock on the bank of Anduin. They needed to board the ferrying raft to cross the river. Signaling the boat master to come over, Keldarion banged repeatedly on the brass bell hanging from a nearby pole.
Not long after, the boat master turned up with his raft. He rowed to port and jubilantly greeted the travelers, "Hello, there! Wanna get to the other side? Then hop on board, gentlemen. That would be a shilling per person and two for each mount."
The man squinted when he finally got the first good look on his customers. His eyes widened when he realized who they were. "Bloody wargs! It's you!"
They couldn't help but grinned in amusement.
"Yes, it's us," Keldarion said, already leading his mount aboard the raft. "Take us across, old man. And we will double the fare."
"You…you found the boy." The man pointed at Eldarion.
"Yes, we did."
Uneasily, the boat master glanced at Legolas. "You won't shoot me with your bloody arrow, would you?"
Scowling, Legolas guided his stallion to stand next to Keldarion's mare. "I will if you won't cease asking questions."
The threat caused the man to hastily scramble away, placing himself back in position to steer the raft.
Keldarion shook his head at his brother. "You are scaring him."
"Who cares? I'll triple his fare." Legolas just shrugged in response, rubbing his belly with a grimace.
Keldarion noticed this. "Are you hurting again?"
"I'll survive." Still wincing, Legolas turned to stare at the water. He switched to Quenya when he spoke next, "How do you think father would react when he sees us?"
With a sigh, Keldarion ran a hand through his unruly hair. "He won't be pleased, that's for sure."
"And the wives?"
"They will ban us from their beds for weeks!"
The boat master beckoned Eldarion over. "What are they saying? I can't bloody understand them."
Eldarion frowned at the man for being such a busy-body. Having born half an elf, the boy could speak the elven tongue fluently, but Quenya was a very old noble language that he was yet to master. Even though some words sounded familiar, he couldn't fully understand what the two brothers were discussing.
Trying not to appear at the disadvantage though, Eldarion faked a solemn expression as he explained, "They are deciding whether you are trustworthy or not."
"Me? Trustworthy?" The man was shocked as he whispered back. "Why? What the bloody for?"
Eldarion made it look as if he was listening hard to the elves. "They don't want you to tell anyone else that you've seen us. So before you do, they might have to do something to keep you silent."
"What are they going to do to me?"
"They will cut out your tongue."
The blood drained off the man's face. He rowed harder for shore, as if he couldn't wait long enough to unload his passengers. He wished he could dump them all into the river right then, but he feared the golden-haired warrior might swing up his bow and shoot him in the head.
Eldarion bit back on a smile. He knew it was nasty of him to scare the man so, but at least it shut him up for good.
"Why don't we just leave Darion at the gate and then ride hard for Ithilien? That way, we won't have to face father," Legolas was suggesting to his brother.
Keldarion shook his head. "We can't do that, you idiot! You still need to have that damaged spleen removed, and I only trust Aragorn's skill for that."
"Oh, right. My spleen." Legolas' face fell.
"Hey, we survived the desert, a sandstorm and a crazy tyrant. We shall survive father's wrath, don't worry."
"In other words, we are dead meat."
"Yep. Bleeding dead meat." Keldarion nodded. Then he looked around, confused. "Is it my imagination, or is this raft really speeding up?"
The moment they were ashore, the boat master promptly jumped ship. He took off at a run without even bothering to secure his raft.
The elves stared in bewilderment. "What the blazes has gotten into him?"
As one, they turned to Eldarion. The boy was making choking sounds, his face red.
"What's the matter with you?" Keldarion asked.
"Nothing," Eldarion quickly answered, his face all innocence.
Legolas frowned. "Do you have anything to do with this?"
"What do you mean?"
"What did you say to that man?"
"Well, I…" Eldarion bit his lips, and then he told them. When he finished explaining, Keldarion reached up and smacked the back of the boy's head.
"Aww!" Sending the elf a heated glare, Eldarion rubbed his smarting head.
"That was mean, Darion," Legolas scolded, but even he couldn't stop himself from grinning.
"I know, but…Hey. Serves him right. He let those kidnappers took me away, didn't he?"
"All right. Fair enough," Keldarion responded. He rolled his eyes heavenward, muttering to himself, "Another smarty pant brat. Ai Elbereth. Why me?"
After they helped secure the raft to its mooring, the companions were ready to continue their journey.
"Oh, wait." Rummaging through his pack, Keldarion then took out a purse. He grabbed a fistful of shillings and placed them on the floorboard of the dock.
"Here's the fare!" he called out, knowing that the boat master was hiding somewhere in the woods behind them. "And good day."
After the three travelers had ridden away, the man crawled out from under a clump of bushes.
"Bloody elves!" he spat disdainfully. He went to collect the shillings and found that they were actually gold coins. He whooped with joy.
"Bless you, master elves! Bless you!"
TBC…
Next week, the Grand Finale.