Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Note: This is a bit later than I'd hoped… I've just started a new job, and I'm not ungrateful to have it, given the general situation, but also it's far more stressful than I would like and so it's partly exigent circumstances making it necessary. Oh well. All of that is just to say, that's why updates may not keep to a schedule. But I'll do my best.
On with the story!
Part III
Legolas looked at himself in the glass in his bedroom. His brow was furrowed.
"This tunic? Really?"
The Elven-queen laughed.
She was dressed in a gown made of the same delicate material as Legolas' tunic. The gown was embroidered along the sleeves and collar with flowers and leaves. But while the silvery fabric suited the Elven-queen – she looked, in Legolas' admittedly biased opinion, as beautiful as he had ever seen her – Legolas did not much fancy it on himself. At least his tunic was free of embroidery.
"Be grateful that your father intervened to spare you the court robes Lord Norgalad wanted," she said.
"Why does Lord Norgalad care what I wear?"
"Lord Norgalad wants you to look as much like your father as possible. Celephindeth told me that he hopes that any goodwill the Men develop towards you will then be extended to the King and, by implication, the realm." Lindariel laughed again at Legolas' expression. "Never mind. You look charming."
"Naneth!" Legolas protested, colour flooding his cheeks.
"Come. Most of the court is assembled. We should be there before the King." She pulled Legolas' head down to kiss his forehead. "Do not look so worried, Legolas. All anybody wants of you is that you should make friends. You do that easily enough with stray Men you happen to meet on the road. Why should this be any different?"
"Lord Norgalad is not pinning his hopes of getting a favourable trade agreement on how well I get along with stray Men I meet on the road."
"Never mind Lord Norgalad's agreement. If he cannot gain his point without the benefit of your cheerful spirit, he should be ashamed of his ineptitude. Enjoy yourself. You will be fine."
With a sigh, Legolas adjusted his collar, checked that his shoes were clean, and offered his mother his arm to escort her to the Council chamber.
Perhaps because of the presence of foreigners, the guards bowed as Legolas and Lindariel passed them, with murmurs of, "My queen," and, "Prince Legolas." Legolas felt his cheeks heat again. He was seldom addressed with such formality. Indeed, on the training field Master Bainion tended to address him as, "You at the end of the line!"
Master Bainion pretended not to know any of his students' names.
At the door to the Council chamber, Lindariel paused and turned to Legolas.
"Do not worry," she whispered. "I know you are ready for this." Then she nodded to the guard at the door to announce them.
The guard opened the door to a buzz of conversation. "Queen Lindariel and Prince Legolas."
The noise ceased. The Elves in the room leapt to their feet at the sight of the Queen. A moment later, the Men followed. Legolas felt eyes on him as he escorted his mother to her chair at the right of the head of the table. Once she had seated herself, he went to his place at the left of the head of the table, and everyone resumed their seats.
The King came a moment later, bringing everyone to their feet again. He strode down the table to his chair, paused to kiss his wife's hand and pat his son on the shoulder, and said, "Welcome to Eryn Galen, Lord Armad. I trust you had a pleasant journey."
"It is, as always, a delight to be under your trees," the Lord of Dale said politely, as the company, excepting Lord Norgalad, sat.
Lord Norgalad picked up the first of several sheets of paper on the table before him and began to read.
Legolas took the opportunity to study Lord Armad discreetly. Lord Armad was, he had heard, a young man – very young, by Elven reckoning. Lord Norgalad had told him that the Lord of Dale was only thirty-five years old. "But he is considered more of an adult, by Mannish standards, than you are," Norgalad had added. "He has children of his own already."
Legolas had deemed it prudent not to tell Lord Norgalad that he already knew.
He was conscious of more than one openly curious glance cast in his direction. It was natural, he supposed. He had not attended trade meetings before. He had never met any of these Men. No doubt they were wondering what to make of him.
All the same, it was difficult not to react.
"Rochendilwen was telling me about the improvement your archery," Lord Thorontur, sitting to his left, murmured in an undertone. "I would very much like the opportunity to see it for myself. You intend, I hope, to participate in the competitions we will have over the next few days."
Legolas turned a startled glance on him.
"I would very much like to win back a jewelled dagger that Maeglad took from me last month."
"Thorontur," the King said, speaking, as Lord Thorontur had been, too softly for the Men to hear, "if you must gamble, I would prefer that you did not use my son to justify your degeneracy."
"I only wish to make it clear how much confidence I have in the skill of our Prince."
Stifling a snicker, Legolas relaxed, as he knew Lord Thorontur had intended.
"Legolas!" Lady Celephindeth tucked her hand into Legolas' arm. "Come with me. I want you to meet the Lord of Dale – properly." She smiled up at him as she guided him across the room. "Do not fret. Just be your merry self and you will make my task tomorrow far easier."
The Men were being entertained indoors by some of the King's Council. It was a cramped arrangement; feasts and dances were usually held in the woods outside the stronghold. But Legolas already knew that this had been done for the benefit of the visitors. Men considered that Elves, particularly Wood-elves, had a decidedly odd sense of humour. Norgalad had not wanted the misplaced merriment of the inhabitants of Eryn Galen to disrupt his negotiations.
Legolas hoped that at least the farewell feast would be outdoors.
"Prince Legolas," Lady Celephindeth said formally, switching to Westron as they came within hearing distance of the group of Men, "allow me to present Lord Armad of Dale. Lord Armad, I believe you have not met Prince Legolas before today."
"Indeed not," said Lord Armad, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at Legolas. "I was last in the Woodland Realm fifteen years ago with my father. I believe Prince Legolas was not then of age… by Elven reckoning."
"Lord Armad," Legolas said. "It is an honour to meet you. I have not had the pleasure of knowing many Men, but those I have known have been excellent companions."
"Indeed," said a tall, fair Man standing behind Lord Armad. Legolas was no expert, but it seemed that he was older than his Lord by some years. There was enough resemblance between them that they must be kin; cousins, perhaps. "The Prince of Eryn Galen has never yet condescended to visit Dale. I wonder where he can have met Men."
Legolas was surprised by the coldness in the Man's tone. But, after all, these were his father's guests, so he replied as cheerfully as he could, "In Imladris – the Elven haven beyond the Hithaeglir – the Misty Mountains," he explained, when the Men seemed uncomprehending. "Men often visit the home of Lord Elrond. It is true that I have never yet had the opportunity to visit Dale."
"We must rectify that soon," Lord Armad said, shooting the other Man a repressive glance. "I hope you will find that the Men of Dale are as friendly as those of Eriador."
"Are you not going to introduce me?" asked the fair-haired man. "Or are you ashamed of me?"
It seemed to Legolas that Lord Armad had some difficulty maintaining his smile as he said, "What nonsense you talk. Prince Legolas, Lady Celephindeth, my… brother, Brynn."
Legolas had no idea why Armad had paused briefly before naming his brother. He must be mistaken in supposing Brynn was the elder, then; unless, of course, among the Men of Dale it was not necessarily the eldest who inherited the lordship. Yet he had heard that that was a the most common custom among Men.
He felt Lady Celephindeth's posture stiffen. Candnaur appeared on Legolas' other side.
"Lord Brynn," Legolas said. "We are delighted to have you here."
"Oh, I am no lord," said Brynn, with a grin that was little short of a grimace. "I could not be, could I? Even an Elf must know that."
Legolas could not imagine what an Elf was expected to know. He had learnt that some groups of Men expected battle prowess of their leaders. Perhaps Brynn had proven unable or unwilling to handle weapons. That would explain his seeming resentment of Lord Armad.
"Brynn," Lord Armad said, and now he sounded distinctly angry, "I must ask you not to discuss a matter in which Elves can have little interest."
"A matter of which, by the look of the boy, Elves have little understanding." Brynn nodded. "I suppose you have no cause. You look exactly like the King."
With that extraordinary pronouncement, Brynn walked to the side of the room to pour himself some more wine.
It was certainly not the first time anyone had said Legolas looked like his father, so he had no idea why it had been said in a tone of such venom – or why Lord Armad apologized, and asked, with a sidelong glance at Legolas, whether he had to fear the wrath of the Elven-king.
"You are not responsible for your brother's discourtesies," Lady Celephindeth said, glancing at Candnaur and tilting her head.
Candnaur said, "Come and get some wine with me, Legolas."
But instead of getting wine, Candnaur led him away to a quiet alcove.
"What Lord Armad meant is that he and his brother have the same father, but not the same mother."
"Oh." Legolas thought about that for a moment. It was uncommon among Elves – indeed, Legolas had heard of no such case other than Fëanor and his brothers, and he would not insult Lord Armad by comparing him to Fëanor – but given the shorter lifespans of Men and their greater susceptibility to minor injuries, it did not surprise him. "But what shame is there in that? When they lose one they love, some Men choose not to live out the rest of their years alone. I have met many such in the house of Lord Elrond."
"Legolas," Candnaur said patiently, "Lord Armad and his brother have different mothers, and it is entirely possible that both are still living."
"But…" Legolas stared at Candnaur. "Is that… customary?"
"I have heard that it is in some places, but it is not customary among the Men of Dale. Among them, it is regarded as a terrible betrayal of one's wife. However, it is not Brynn's fault, and given his age, it is entirely possible that he was born before their father was wed to Lord Armad's mother. In any case, Lord Armad has the wisdom not to hold it against him."
"If it was Brynn's mother that their father first loved," said Legolas, "perhaps Brynn has more cause to resent Lord Armad than the other way."
"Brynn does resent Lord Armad. Legolas, I know Lord Armad well. He is a good man. His father, in many ways, was… different. He did not lack love for Brynn's mother, but… he would not wed her." Before Legolas could ask why, Candnaur went on, "You should also know… when Brynn commented on how much you resemble your father, he was implying the possibility of… not the same thing, but something… similar."
"He meant – Elbereth Gilthoniel," Legolas gasped, his face flooding with colour. He did not know how much came from embarrassment and how much from the implied insult to his parents. "He did not mean – he could not mean –"
"Candnaur," came a furious whisper, as Lady Celephindeth appeared at Legolas' elbow. "Did you not have better sense than to tell him that?"
"I knew you would not approve," Candnaur said calmly. "But it is best he should know, Naneth, especially if you expect him to spend most of this week in the company of Men. I have met Brynn before. He is jealous of his brother – envies him, perhaps even hates him – and if he can disrupt his brother's relations with Eryn Galen by any means at all, he will do it. Legolas should be prepared."
"All the same… this is not the method I would have chosen to introduce Legolas to the complexities of politics in Dale." Lady Celephindeth sighed. "There is nothing to be done about it now. Legolas, do not worry about it – Candnaur is right. Brynn has always been resentful. Ignore what he says."
"Of course, my lady," Legolas said, wondering how best to avoid meeting Brynn at all. He still could not entirely believe –
"Come," Lady Celephindeth said, taking his arm, as the harpist began to play. "Dance with me. Then I suppose you ought to ask Lord Armad's sister. At least you will be safe from impertinent remarks with her."
The Men, with exclamations about the lateness of the hour, had finally gone to bed when Legolas returned to the family quarters.
He was exhausted.
It was true that he liked Men, as far as his acquaintance with them went. And he had enjoyed the opportunity to practice his Westron. But it had taken considerable adroitness to avoid being cornered by Brynn, who obviously wanted to speak to him. Legolas did not know whether it was to describe the difficulties of his own position or remark on Legolas' resemblance to his father. He did not want to hear either.
Legolas' parents, who had left after the first dance, were still awake, waiting in the sitting room.
"You look tired, Legolas," his mother said sympathetically.
"But it was worthwhile," said the King. "Celephindeth and Norgalad must be delighted with you. Lord Armad has taken to you already. I believe he made no objection to your dancing with his sister – four times?"
Legolas laughed. "Candnaur insisted I ask her again. He said it was courtesy due to Lord Armad – and how do you know that, adar?"
Thranduil's eyes twinkled. "I know everything that happens in my own stronghold. And while I am on that subject…" He put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "I know Lord Armad's brother is difficult. I am very pleased that you did not allow him to provoke you."
"I did not understand him," Legolas said, feeling his face heat again, "until Candnaur explained."
"Lord Armad had no choice but to bring him here. I will tell Norgalad to try to keep him occupied with other things. Perhaps he might be interested in sword drills."
"Here." Legolas' mother put a folded scrap of paper in his hand. "This came for you some time ago."
Legolas unfolded it and groaned when he saw what it said.
"What is it?" asked the King.
"Bregolien wants me at night drills. He was expecting me on the ranges ten minutes ago. I had better go now."
"The ranges? You are not still going to training? I gave orders that you were not to have training this week, Legolas. You look far too tired."
Legolas shrugged. "I did not intend to. But Bregolien has been far from pleased with my performance of late, so I am not surprised he thinks I should not miss training even for a week. By your leave, my King."
When Legolas had gone, Lindariel looked at her husband.
"I do not like it either," said the Elven-king. "But… Bregolien is what he is. I cannot change him. It will do more harm than good if I interfere and Legolas is seen to have undue privilege."
"It is not undue privilege to see that he gets some rest," said Lindariel. "If his duties to your court must sometimes take precedence over Bregolien's training schedule… Of course, Bregolien will not see it that way. I know you are right, meleth."
"I do question the wisdom of putting Bregolien in charge of training. But Master Bainion thinks he has valuable skills to impart. His students are all of age, and children no longer. They must learn that not every teacher will be kind… nor will every Elf they meet."
"Indeed." Lindariel smiled. "I would not have Bregolien removed from his position. It means too much to Valadhiel that her children have found a home here."
"Rochendilwen certainly has," said Thranduil. "She is sensible and responsible – a credit to her training. And, according to Thorontur, a fine archer. As for Bregolien… perhaps it was too late for him when he came to Eryn Galen. I do not know."
Saeldur stared at the target in astonishment. He had outdone Legolas for the second time in a row – and not only that, Legolas had just given one of the poorest performances Saeldur had ever seen from any Elf, leave alone from the Elf everyone agreed was going to be the finest archer Eryn Galen produced in this Age.
"Are you well?" Saeldur asked, genuinely worried.
Legolas laughed. It was light, but it had an edge of something.
"Perfectly," he said. "I am a little tired. That is all."
Saeldur looked at the target again. Three arrows had hit the very edge of the target. It seemed like simple tiredness could not have caused Legolas' aim to be so unsteady.
Before he could say anything, Bregolien came to see what they were doing.
"Really?" he said coldly, eyeing Legolas' target. "I know being the son of the King gives you privileges, but do not think for a moment that I am going to pass that. Get the arrows and do it again."
Without a word, Legolas went for the arrows.
Saeldur saw Rochendilwen, standing at the other end of the line of archers, frown slightly. But she said nothing. She would not contradict Bregolien in public.
Legolas came back and lined up his shot. Even as he released the arrow, Saeldur, seeing the tremble in his hand, knew it would be wide.
Perhaps Legolas had had too much to drink? Saeldur could sympathize with needing several cups of Dorwinion to get through an evening of idle conversation with the King's Mannish guests.
The arrow hit the third ring outside the centre – a poor shot for any Elven archer, and an unthinkable one for Legolas.
"Bregolien," Rochendilwen called, evidently hoping to distract him, but he glared her to silence.
"Again," Bregolien snapped at Legolas. "I do not know what the matter is with you today – why you are giving me a performance a child would be ashamed of – but I do know you are not leaving this field until you have proven to me that your will to defend the realm is stronger than your desire to drink too much wine with Men."
Legolas went rigid, his eyes glittering with something that, if Saeldur did not know better, he would call anger.
"Again," Bregolien demanded.
This time Legolas drew his bow with a hand that seemed as firm as one of the oaks outside the stronghold. The arrow hit the target dead centre, followed by another, and then another, in rapid succession until Bregolien said angrily, "Stop!"
Legolas dropped his hand.
Six arrows crowded the centre of the target, two of them splitting the ones before them. Saeldur knew it was too much to hope that Bregolien would be pleased –
"If you were capable of doing that," Bregolien snarled, "would you care to tell me why you wasted my time with that dismal performance earlier? Clearly you would benefit from more practice. I will see you at dawn for an hour before you appear in court."
Not knowing what to say, Saeldur patted Legolas' shoulder in sympathy when Bregolien stalked away. An hour alone with Bregolien before court – Saeldur could imagine nothing worse.
Perhaps he could, at least, make it a little better.
"I will come with you," he offered. "Tomorrow morning. At least you need not have training by yourself."
Legolas shook his head, posture still stiff. "There is no need. I brought it on myself."
"Perhaps, but that is no reason why I cannot keep you company… unless you would rather be alone on the field with Bregolien."
That made Legolas relax and brought an unexpected, soft, but very real, laugh.
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