Crowds

Chapter Summary

Lord Alagos' son jumps, Lady Siladhiel is back, and Tauriel crawls!

Chapter Notes

Bad Elvish Translations:

echuir - stirring - the last part of winter but not yet spring.
Penninor - Last day of the year; basically New Year's Eve but this is in late March
muinthel - sister
muindor - brother
Ranga - a measurement that is roughly 38" or slightly larger than a yard, smaller than a meter

I think that's it for this chapter. Please, let me know if you have any questions. I love seeing the comments!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 12: Crowds

The cells were guarded more heavily after Gwanweth's death. Every aspect of the guards and their shifts was investigated – down to the type of mint put into the refreshments. Two individuals were to ensure that each step of a processes was completed and then signed off with initials. It grated on the guards but what complaints had been passed up the chain were largely ignored. Until they were sure they had all the traitors, there could be no room for error. It was for the safety of guards as well as the prisoners.

Nenneth sat in her cell. She had given up on reading after only a few days. She had screamed, demanded many things, but soon, gave up on that as well. Whatever food she wanted, she was given. If she wished for writing materials, those were also given. The only thing she was not given was freedom from her small, cramped cell.

For now, she sat, watching to door. The guards would change in another hour. Perhaps an hour after that, she would lay down and sleep. Sleep was the only respite she had anymore from the four walls that enclosed her. The halls of Lórien were where she could still be free.

She could try talking to the guards. She could try talking to the walls around her. However, talking only forced her to think. Thinking and she remembered. They chose Solchbar for a reason. It was at the edge of the realm, in the east, but….she didn't recall orchestrating an orc attack; simply an attack. There was something in that village that was evil itself. Something the king, a traitor, protected.

The planning meetings, she vaguely recalled those. There was that one when the lady Lord Beinion wished to pledge himself to joined as well. She was his failsafe – his way of ensuring nothing could go wrong. Was Nenneth's capture considered something wrong or, since the village was destroyed, did it call go right and this was simply an unfortunate loss? As the former lady stood to ask the guards for the names of every elleth they captured, she saw a flicker of something from the top of the dungeon cavern walls. She only made it as far as the middle of the tiny cell, arm extended for the door though, it was too far away.

A buzz and then a slight gasp. The guards were confused but turned to see Nenneth, in her cell, standing for a second, with a small trinkle of blood forming in the center of her forehead. Above that was a group of three black feathers. By the time the guards put together that it was an arrow's fletching sticking out of her head, the former Lady Nenneth's hröa collapsed to the cold stone floor of her cell.

While the internal guard shouted for the master of the keys, the border guard who volunteered for a shift or two, looked to where the arrow came from. Lieutenant Aithrion saw a hint of movement, roughly fifty paces along the cavern edge from where the arrow was shot. As the master of the keys arrived, the lieutenant bolted out from his position at the cell door and took the steps two by two. He swung himself around the pillar, going the opposite direction from where the kinslayer shot Nenneth from an overlook.

Aithrion grew up in these halls like many of the nobility. However, what many of them did not have that the lieutenant did was a father who rose through the ranks in the Military Affairs ministry to become it's head an age ago. They also did not have a sister that would flay him alive if he did not at least attempt to get a glimpse of this kinslayer.

Ignoring the yelps and angry yelling that followed in his wake, Aithrion took to a door, above the dungeon cavern, that was not much used. There had been a bridge, at some point, beyond the door but that had fallen in due to an earthquake according to those far older than he. Taking the door, Aithrion used the remaining half crumbling structures in place to swing from buttress to buttress and then leap across the remaining gulf – barely able to catch the edge. It was then that he realized his father would destroy his fëa if he did not leave for the halls of Mandos in a fall this day.

Pulling himself up, he heard a shocked gasp from a few feet in front of him. Looking towards the figure, Aithrion saw only the back of the retreating figure – the head covered by a dark hood. No matter how much his body protested after that little jump, the lieutenant got up and took off after the hooded ellon.

The hooded elf was careful not to look back, not show his face. However, the broad shoulders and height of this ellon belong to no elleth. That was at least a something, right? He tried to take in details he could as well as run after the suspect. The suspect made it to a door and opened it, only to come out into a crowd of elves.

It was one of the last market days of echuir. Penninor was tomorrow along with all the associated feasts. Elves from all over the realm would come to visit relatives and join in the festivities. The sheer number of individuals helped the ellon blend in easily – once he took off his hood.

Lieutenant Aithrion cursed his luck from the doorway. He could not see a hood or tell one tall ellon from another. Hundreds if not a couple of thousand elves were a sea in front of him and he could not separate the one drop he wished for from another. His sister and father would not be pleased.

"Tell me again why you dislocated your fingers?" Lady Siladhiel asked Lord Alagos's son. She was more amused by the growing indignation from Lord Alagos and the frustration from both his children than the story itself.

His unhurt hand, his right, held his head as the lieutenant sat on a bench in the healing chamber. Technically, it wasn't strictly necessary to bring Aithrion here for what was a minor injury, but the younger ellon seemed reluctant to talk in the open space of the dungeons. Vain Glossien asked if they could move her brother somewhere more private. The private healing cell was created specifically so noise could not get in or out.

Looking towards the Lady Siladhiel, Aithrion sighed. His head was still in his good hand while the healer worked on his left. "It was not something I choose," he muttered only for Lady Siladhiel to pop the joint back in place. The lieutenant hissed in pain.

"So the wall hit you first?" the healer asked, getting a smirk from Glossien. Lord Alagos muttered something under his breath, his arms crossed as he half glared at his son. Lady Siladhiel had known him since the crossing of the Misty Mountains – Alagos was worried sick about his elfling and only angry that his son made him worry.

Sitting up straight, Aithrion looked to the healer and then to his father and sister. "I could not follow him into the crowd, muinthel. I am sorry," he regretted.

Glossien brushed it off. She was frustrated that he couldn't catch the killer, yes, but she also knew he went well above and beyond his duties. "I do not blame you, muindor," she truthfully stated.

As the Lady Siladhiel wrapped up Aithrion's hand – with a warning not to use it for a couple of days- the elvenking rushed in. He had been attending some of the planning meetings for the Penninor festivities when he received word of yet another death in the cells.

Three sets of eyes looked to Thranduil but the elvenking did not speak until the door behind him was closed. It was to Siladhiel he spoke to first, "His hand?"

"Only a dislocated joint and minor scratching. He will be well soon enough," the healer imparted easily. It wasn't the hand that worried her.

"What occurred?" Thranduil questioned only to have Glossien, Alagos, and Aithrion all try to answer at once. Holding up his hand, the elvenking clarified, "Lieutenant, report!"

"An orcish arrow shot passed the grating on the cell door to Nenneth's chambers," the Lieutenant began. His father, of all in the realm, had actually taken notes to help with writing the report. Glossien, may the Valar bless her, promised her brother she would transliterate the notes later. Their father's idea of writing came out about as decipherable as dwarven ruins. Probably worse.

Thranduil paced slightly as Aithrion spoke. "I checked the angle and saw a suspect running along the top edge of the cavern in a southwesterly direction," the lieutenant continued. "So I …" he started before his father interjected.

"So he was a witless imp!" Alagos near shouted. Thranduil only raised an eyebrow to his minister of Military Affairs.

"Ada, please," Aithrion muttered with a sigh.

"He took the entrance to where the old cavern bridge was and swung from one side to the other," Lord Alagos rumbled before turning to look directly at his son. "What if you hadn't made the jump! Did you not think on that?!" he bellowed.

The elvenking watched has Vain Glossien placed a hand on her father's shoulder. "Aithrion is well, ada," she breathed. "He is here."

Some of the fight went out of Lord Alagos but not all. The lieutenant at least knew enough to look somewhat chagrinned. The lord and general went back to leaning against a wall, his arms crossed. Glossien stayed near him, knowing her father needed his children near him and safe right now – no matter how old they both may be.

"After I made the jump, I saw a retreating figure," Aithrion continued for the sake of the elvenking.

"This figure, describe them," Thranduil commanded lightly.

"The ellon was at least two ranga tall, broad in shoulder, with a dark hood," Aithrion began.

"Ellon?" the elvenking questioned.

"Yes, my lord," the lieutenant affirmed. Thranduil's brow furrowed in thought. The kinslayer's list had been mostly ellith, not ellyn. The bauble was popular among the fashionable according to what Glossien's department could uncover. Was the bauble a token then? Or perhaps they were wrong and it wasn't related – just something that fell off any number of ellith's gowns as they walked through the cell after Gwanweth's murder. However, the dragging of the guards from the cell suggested someone that was not of strength. Most elves – either ellon or elleth – would have carried the guards out and placed them.

"Was there anything remarkable about him you could witness?" the elvenking asked.

Aithrion shook his head. "His clothing was dark but nothing of note. He did seem to have a small bit of a lace, as if a handkerchief, in his left side pocket."

A lace handkerchief? For himself or from an elleth? "I take it this handkerchief did not match with the rest of his garb?" Thranduil inquired.

Aithrion smirked. "He wore little more than rough wool and linen. The handkerchief had too fine a lace and shimmered slightly – as if silk. It was far too dear an item to go with the rest of his clothing."

"And what do you know of fine laces?" Vain Glossien drolled.

"I've had to put up with you on far too many market trips, muinthel," he retorted. Alagos glared at them both while Thranduil smirked. So, this ellon had a lover – perhaps a wife? Someone to give him items of price. Was this elleth aware of her beloved's activities? Were they dealing with one kinslayer still on the loose or two? Or, perhaps, even more?

Too many questions and not enough answers filtered through the elvenking's mind. He needed to see the lists on his desk and re-think over the evidence they knew of. "I expect the report on my desk in an hour," Thranduil ordered. He turned to Glossien. "Do make sure it gets to Galion this time," he almost gently chided her.

The head of investigations blushed, alarming both her father and brother. Glossien did many things but not…blush. Lord Alagos' eyes narrowed while a small sliver of a smile crept over her brother's face. Lady Siladhiel watched with a knowing amusement. She had already been through this nonsense with her own children. "I will bring it myself, my lord," the head of investigations murmured.

"Please do," Thranduil continued before the corner of his mouth twitched. Alagos noticed and now scrutinized his friend and king. "Linron is welcome to come as well. I will expect to see him at the feast tomorrow?" he inquired as he headed towards the door.

"Yes, my lord," Glossien responded, her head now bowed and her hair covering her increasing blush. Alagos growled while her brother laughed.

Stilling and turning at the last minute to Aithrion – Lady Siladhiel behind the elvenking and quickly moving to get out of his way – Thranduil added, "And Lieutenant?"

"Y…yes, my lord?" Aithrion only stammered through his laughter.

"Do not attempt to jump across the cavern in the future, if you would. No one wishes to deal with your father after such an act of….bravery," the elvenking stated before he left.

Aithrion sobered at that and murmured his own "Yes, my lord." As Lady Silhadiel left behind Thranduil, she caught Alagos move to his son and pull him into a crushing hug. Smiling, she came to walk next to her king.

"So," the lady began, a glint in her eyes. "What exactly did you see between Glossien and this archivist?"

Giving her one of his cocky half grins but saying nothing, the elvenking only offered his arm to guide his friend back to her own chambers. "I ask only because it is quite the gossip," she admitted.

"Oh?" Thranduil incited her to continue.

"I hear he wishes to pledge himself to her," Silhadiel began. "However, he has yet to be able to purchase the silver rings to do so." The healer smiled to herself as she saw the furrowed brow of the elvenking. "So, you like this Linron?" Thranduil may not be Glossien's father but their children grew up together.

"It is not a matter of my liking him or not!" Thranduil huffed. Looking to Siladhiel's questioning brow, he amended, "She is happy with him. That is enough."

Smuggly, Siladhiel stated, "I thought you might see it that way." Another indignant huff from the elvenking.

"I was thinking of approaching him myself to see if he might wish to take some extra work copying some of the older healing books I have in my personal collection. I do not wish those to go to rot and be lost forever," she continued. Those that knew Thranduil well knew exactly how to turn his head to get him to do whatever they wanted or needed. Siladhiel had seen Legolas be able to do so since he was a gwinig. The Lady Tauriel, she believed, wouldn't be much different.

"However, I'm afraid I do not know him well enough to approach without it being obvious that I am only asking as a way to help him more than myself," she told. The furrow on the elvenking's brow deepened. Good. Let him consider this.

Stopping at her apartments, she let go of Thranduil's arm. "I've been told it will take another decade for him to save for both the silver and the gold sets of rings," she lamented before turning to her door. "But what is a decade to us, mellon?"

Thranduil scoffed again. He knew exactly what she was doing. The healer was never subtle, unlike her husband. "I will see you at the festival tomorrow," he stated before leaving for his own apartments. Siladhiel laughed and went into her home. The elvenking would take care of it. She knew that much. Linron would somehow get the engagement and wedding rings far more quickly than he anticipated – perhaps even a strangely sudden promotion within the Archives. Thranduil was not patient when it came to love.

Galion had a small desk and chair set up just inside the royal apartments. Nearby was also a bookshelf; half filled with either books or documents. Sitting, legs crossed, the butler went through each one to act as a sieve for what documents needed King Thranduil's or Prince Legolas' attention and which didn't. He would alert the elvenking to each document but it was rare that King Thranduil needed to actually see each one!

The one he had in his hands now was from Galion's wife, Faeviel, to him, reminding the butler to put in the order for that night's dinner early due to the preparation for the festivals tomorrow and the rest of the week. "Unless you want their meals to be late," his wife added to her missive. Unfortunately, Thranduil was not back yet and he could not inquire about the evening meal. However, typically, whatever the prince requested would work for the elvenking as well.

Considering getting up to ask Legolas, Galion noticed the door to the Prince's apartments crack open slightly. However, it was not the prince that came out – at least not at first- but a small red headed gwinig. Standing now, Galion watched as the tiny creature crawled right to him and sat down at his feet. He raised a questioning brow while the Prince stood back at his doors but in the hall, watching all with a bit of proud amusement. The Lady Tauriel only learned to crawl that morning.

Slapping her hands against the marble floor, Tauriel looked up at the butler. "Gah! Gah!" she shrieked followed by peels of laughter. Before he could respond in anyway, the gwinig continued. "Gah! Oh! Gah yoh!" she beat against the floor before raising her arms towards the butler.

Legolas chuckled. "I believe she is trying to request your attention and say your name," the prince informed the butler.

"Is that so?" Galion more rhetorically asked than expecting any real answer. With a practiced sweep, he picked up the Lady Tauriel, holding her against his side, and turned to the prince. "I have received word from the kitchen to put in a request for the evening meal. Is there anything specific you wished for this evening?" the butler inquired.

Legolas shook his head and the gwinig made a series of almost rude sounds from the butler's arms. "I'm not sure we have any of that in stock, my lady," the butler supplied. His attention back to the prince, who now stood before the butler and was grinning at the King's ward, the butler inquired, "The trout then with a lemon zest? I believe there is a rather fine white wine that just came in that would go well."

Legolas nodded. "That sounds fine, Galion," the prince affirmed. Lady Tauriel demanded the butler's attention again with a series of "Gah! Oh!" or "Gah yoh!". Looking at the king's ward, he answered her, "I do not believe that particular vintage would do for you yet, my lady. Perhaps my wife might be able to suggest a vintage that is more to your liking?"

Understanding the unspoken question in the butler's words, the prince nodded. "May I join you?" Legolas asked. It had been a while since he had gone to the kitchens to see Faeviel. Even longer since he had gone to steal a biscuit or other treat from her.

"You are always welcome, my lord," Galion stated truthfully. His wife had been begging him to see the babe. She loved elflings and was hoping to have more children from their children soon. It was constantly trying to remind her that such things happened in their own time. Also, if she really wished for another child, they could have one rather than pressure their already existing children for children.

Walking towards the royal kitchen, rather than the hustle and bustle of the main ones, Galion led the prince to where Feaviel was working. She would be alone today – everyone was needed for the festival prep and they still had to make the evening meal as well.

The butler smiled slightly seeing his wife. Her dress sleeves were pushed up to elbow, a bit of flour dusted her cheek, and her soft brown hair was pulled back. The royal chef/sous chef/ anything Lord Ethiron pretty much asked of her that day, was a mess and Galion didn't expect to see her in any other way.

Adjusting the babe at his side as she babbled and looked around this new to her chamber, his wife looked up. "Galion! Your highness!" she quickly bowed to the prince and smiled brightly at her husband. "Oh! You brought her!" Feaviel gasped as she saw the babe her husband was holding.

"Feaviel," Legolas greeted her before taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools that were always present. The royal kitchen was smaller than the ones for the main dining room or the festival hall but still larger than what any elf might have in their home. Some homes didn't bother with a kitchen, relying on a community kitchen to cook or simply paying a small fee to eat at the main dining room instead.

"The biscuits are in jar on the shelf, your highness," she said offhandedly before grinning madly at the gwinig

"She is just darling!" Feaviel squeaked while trying to brush the excess flour from her apron and dress. The cook had been trying to make a pie crust. The elvenking loved pies.

"The Lady Tauriel has a question for you, my dear," Galion stated easily and tried not to laugh as flour ended up in his wife's hair while she tried to brush it off her gown.

"Oh?" she said before giving up and going to the wash bin. There was no way the flour was getting off of her completely without a bath but she wanted to be able to hold the babe!

"I suggested trout tonight with a lemon zest," Galion began.

Faeviel turned towards the prince. "Lime zest, sorry. The lemons are currently being commanded for the festival," she explained.

"All is well," Legolas assured her before taking a bite of the pilfered biscuit. It was a sweetened butter nut with cinnamon on it. Delicious.

"…As well as the white wine that recently came in," Galion continued only to be interrupted by his wife again.

"How is Captain Feren's head?" she teased. The Lady Tauriel made another almost rude noise at the sound of that name. Feaviel grinned while she dried her hands until she noticed her husband's "Truly, dear?" look.

"Apologies, continue," she said before turning her attention back to her husband and the gwinig, ignoring the chuckles of the prince.

"The Lady Tauriel wished for a vintage of her own, I believe," Galion informed his wife. "Do you happen to have any that may be for her palate?"

Grinning, Feaviel held out her hands for the gwinig to which Galion easily gave her up. Tauriel looked at this new elleth with some skepticism, her eyes darting from the elleth to the butler and once or twice to the prince. Seeing that neither the prince or the butler appeared worried, Tauriel finally settled on the elleth only for her to put the gwinig down on the countertop, away from where the somewhat flattened pie crust sat.

"Hmm…" the cook mused, her fingers dancing lightly over the babe's covered tummy, tickling her. "Perhaps an apple rather than a grape?"

"Ah! A cider," Galion teased slightly. "That might also pair well."

His wife turned to him with a hint of mirth in her eyes. Feaviel was about to add something when the inside door from the royal kitchens to one of the main ones opened. A stream of noises from general chatter to the clanging of utensils filled the room. However, what caught both the butler and the cook's attention was the sudden jump of the prince. Legolas had his hand on his dagger until he saw who entered.

"Prince Legolas," Lord Ethiron bowed. "Galion," the head chef acknowledged. He said little more as Legolas relaxed and went back to eating the biscuits made earlier in the day. Spying the red headed creature on the counter, however, he did raise an eyebrow.

"Do you plan to bake this into a pie?" the cook teased though there was no inflection of mirth in his voice.

Faeviel grinned as she tickled the tiny babe. "I would, but I do believe King Thranduil insisted on no more carrots," she retorted. Galion scoffed as Legolas came up to the otherside of the counter, near Tauriel.

"Too sinewy by the looks of her anyway," Lord Ethiron muttered before looking directly at Faeviel. "Saffron?" he asked.

"Top hanging shelf inside the third right cupboard at the back," Faeviel informed him. The lord nodded before heading directly where his sous-chef indicated. Once he had a generous container of the valuable stems, the head of the kitchens sent a curious look back to Lady Tauriel. Faeviel was babbling to the tiny creature.

"She looks like less of a carrot and more of a…under ripened apple to me," the lord added before heading back to the main kitchen. Legolas caught the slight smile as the head chef passed by.

"Don't you listen to him, my lady," Faeviel cooed.

"Does this mean she shouldn't have the apple juice?" Legolas questioned. When both Galion and Faeviel looked at him, he added with a smirk, "Can't have her eating her own."

Chapter End Notes

Basically, Legolas came along to play bodyguard to his "baby sister" and to steal cookies from Faeviel. She makes some amazing cookies. Bet they'd pair well with some hot chocolate and a bit of rum?