The Elf Husband

by VoxynQueen

Warrior, hardened and ruthless. Death is his duty. When Aragorn calls for aid to protect the last Dúnedain fortress, Legolas will face the evils of Angmar while adapting to life in a community of humans. What he didn't expect was the stirring of an awkward attraction. A romantic tale of how the warrior became the husband. Legolas/OC

15. Chapter Eleven: Power

*They kissed! Probably not the way everyone expected, but a kiss is still a kiss! How long will it be before they lock lips for real?

** Thanks to all you patient people who continue to support this story. Life has been growing steadily more hectic in recent months. I do not intend to give up though.

*** Thanks to all those who reviewed, liked and kudos. You give me the swift kick I need to get back into writing.

**** To my writing buddy, Frannel; you have my support everlasting. I hope you find your way to happiness soon. Thank you for your tireless efforts to guide this story forward.

***** A call out to Eschscholzia , whose humorous reviews always gets me going. There's a small nod in this chapter just for you. I couldn't resist.

****** Thank you to this story's number one fan, Paula. All the kingdoms in my imagination for more fans like you.

!Warning! Mentions of violence against woman and rape. This story is aimed for mature readers.

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"I dedicate every moment of sweet romance (all romance, not just mine) to the victims of unreciprocated

love. We are the lovelorn. May every tender sweet or heart wrenching moment read flood your spirit to new heights and allow you to experience in your dreams that which has been unjustly beyond your grasp . . ." – Voxyn Queen

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion, Sindar's horse

Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain

Baradon/Sculls – Male, Elite Ranger Scout

Bregol/Web - Male, Ranger

Camaenor/Vice - Male, Master of Arms

Cordoves/Swan – Female, Elite Ranger Scout

Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal & Apothecary

Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master & Elite Ranger Scout

Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores

Gueniel – Female, Midwife

Laeron/Wren – Male, Elite Ranger Scout

Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables & Elite Ranger Scout

Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping

Mereniel/Ivy – Female, Elite Ranger Scout (Pregnant)

Nestdôl – Male, Master of Healing, Elder Master of Carthal

Romon – Male, Elder Master of Carthal

Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen

Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male, undisclosed Prince of the Woodland Realm on unofficial secondment

Trîw/Jester – Male, Elite Ranger Scout

Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command

---

Sincerely, waiting was no burden. She would come when finally her duties and her people allowed her.

Although he did wait for her with anticipation, after the past three weeks he was glad for the peace of the night.

The air was icy. Legolas leant against the stonewall at their predetermined location and gazed appreciatively up at the clear sky filled with brilliant stars.

The morning after the day of games began innocently enough three weeks earlier . . .

.

Rousing Laeron from his bunk proved amusing, with the young ranger giving no complaint; just nod of inevitability. The lesson didn't last long however when Laeron's stomach emptied violently halfway through the first hour. Feeling generous in his cheery mood, Legolas sent his disciple to the healers for a tonic and then back to his bunk in the dormitory.

However, only after Laeron fully recited the repercussions of overconfidence. Twice for good measure.

Returning through the icy grass fields and cattle herd meandering down the road to the milk house, the great hall was welcoming with the smells of breakfast being tendered over flame.

Lightening his step the way only elves could, he snuck up on one of the women setting out the tables. "Good morning."

Eryndes jumped gratifyingly to his amusement, but then smiled lit up his already fine morning. "Oh, good morning, Master Elf. You always get the start from me."

"I am glad to see you suffer no ill-effects from your hidden brandy stores." He was truthful in his appraisal; she looked just as always and with no tarnish from drink or late night.

She laughed and continued picking up arm fulls of small wooden bowls, "If Aragorn sent you to interrogate me, I fear you will be rather disappointed. I will not tell. Women, you must understand, are honour bound to keep our secrets . . . secret."

Relinquishing the sight of her lips, and the wonderful dreams coaxed forth overnight in memory of her kiss, he curiously eyed the contents of the bowls; he already knew where the women hid their secret stores of brandy, confections and all that. It wasn't hard to find. Not that he'd told Aragorn the location. "Aragorn did not send me. He and Úrion left early this morning to inspect the new scout posts." The memories were not so easily forgotten either, enduring and quite vivid; her lips upon his knuckles, hand upon his arm, her smiles and laughter, the intimacy of their embrace as they danced.

Had Eryndes been elf-kind, it would be not outside custom for him to seek out her consent for courtship. Most ellyns he knew would've announced their intention for courtship much earlier - the moment they felt the unmistakable draw of attraction.

As fate would have it, Eryndes was not an elf. This truth alone left him uncharacteristically uncertain. Perhaps he could request her join in for breakfast, then a private word?

"Aragorn will have no want for brandy today," He told her at last.

Finishing collecting the bowls, she brushed passed him with happy satisfaction, "Good."

"Why do the women keep secrets?" he asked quickly, stepping a little to the side and in front of her.

Eryndes stopped, her arms balancing the bowls. She hesitated but then shook her head with a small chuckle, "Oh, it is nothing really. Just a sexes thing. The men have their secrets, as do we."

"What secrets to the men keep?" he asked, coming to face her squarely. He knew a lot of what the men kept from their womenfolk - mostly crass and crude things the women would surely be horrified to learn.

She reshuffled her overflowing burdens with humour in her eyes, "If I knew, they would not be secret."

"Eryndes," he implored her, "Will you not put them down?"

"Oh," she looked down at the bowls, "Sorry. They are just to go with breakfast . . ."

When she started to put them down, Legolas took half from her, "Come, I will help you." He gestured for her to lead the way. "What is this? Dried lizard skin, but only the diseased ones?"

"Bean chips," she answered, beginning to place three bowls per long table, "They are left over from last night."

Legolas placed the bowls down along another table, "Beans?"

"They are pressed into a slab and allowed to ferment-"

"I knew I smelt mould," he hissed and held the bowls further away from his nose in disgust.

"It's not mould. They are sliced thin, fried in tallow then salted," she defended, standing waiting for him to finish, one hand on her hip in defiance.

Legolas sighed with a despairing shake of his head, "What is it with your kind and mould?" Finishing laying the last bowl, he walked over to her.

"Fermented," she corrected firmly, "and elves use fermentation."

"Yes," he agreed offhandedly. Reaching her, he grasped a small slice of the fried fermented beans from the last bowl in her hands and studied it dubiously. Though appearing scaly, the chip was smooth and crispy, "We ferment fruit for wine. We trade for cheese." Bringing the slice to his nose he sniffed cautiously only to pull it away with a grimace, "We do not serve rotten grains and legumes as food and drink."

Eryndes also took a chip from the bowl, "Try it, you may find it to your taste," and with a show of exaggerated care she put it into her mouth and chewed. Swallowing, she smiled, "See? It is really very good if you are-" she paused.

"If I am?" he prompted.

Her fingers fiddled with the bowl, "Brave enough to try."

Eyes narrowing from the challenge, he breathed out through his teeth and braced himself. Slowly he put the chip into his mouth, trying hard to ignore the smell.

"And?" Eryndes watched as he chewed, "how do you like it?"

Swallowing wilfully instead of joyfully, he grumbled, "I do believe I am again in great need of your miracle herb." His head turned towards the kitchen with urgency.

"No!" she cried in disbelief. "Again tease you me!"

Chuckling , hetossed the bowl onto one of the tables, "Alas, no. How I wish I was." His face screwed in revulsion, "My lord Thranduil would not feed that to his pigs."

She gaped at him. "I do not believe you!"

"You should know better than to accuse an elf of lying," he reproached lightly, "Or condemn one for his taste."

She retorted with a sniff, "Perhaps you have spoilt taste."

He raised an eyebrow, a little thrill squeezed into his belly, "Do you not mean spoiled?"

"We Dúnedain learn to eat what is available." Gesturing towards the kitchen, she bade him forth, "Come, tea will appease your spoilt taste."

Legolas fell into step beside her, "Spoiled not spoilt. Your moulds will ensure I never enjoy food again."

Her laugh was as much in disgust as in humour, "I am sure the next something sweet will change your mind."

"Why? Do you have something to offer," he prodded, slowing to allow her through the door first.

She stopped in the doorway, "You are about as bad as the children; always wanting sweets."

"What can I say?" a smile tugged at his chest, "I like sweet things."

Her eyes went brilliant. "Still a child, at what, five thousand years?"

Legolas fought hard to keep his face and tone dry, "Are you asking my age? That is not very polite."

The tops of her cheeks tinged with pink and quickly walked over to the stove, "I never imagined elves to be sensitive about their age."

Quietly, he followed her steps with a diverted snigger. She was an easy tease, gullible and unworldly, but that didn't retract any of the enjoyment. In actuality, it was far more fun this way.

When she went for the kettle, Legolas reached out and took it first. She jumped back, "Master Elf?"

"You need not serve me," he admonished gently, "I may not cook but am I not apt enough to pour water?"

Her brilliant eyes watched him then smiled, "I am an apothecary. I dispense medicines and even to those suffering from spoilt taste."

Stepping back and allowing her room, he conceded with an easy smirk, "Then please do before I resort to cutting out my tongue."

Crumbling and pouring, Eryndes pursed her lips, "I do not advise that." Finishing, she handed it to him, "Sali has a special recipe for tongue."

He took a long thankful draught, the herb washing away the mould taint upon his taste, "No doubt after allowing it to sit in the hot sun for a day or two to ferment."

Stepping away, she took another armful of fermented bean bowls from the bench, "Actually she pickles them with rosemary and peppercorns."

His mouth slackened in disgust, "I beg pickled tongues will not be served any time soon?"

"Not yet," she finally grinned then turned and walked towards the hall, leaving him in the kitchen, "they are still pickling."

He watched the door, then spying more bowls; Legolas quickly took them in his arms and followed. The sooner she was finished her tasks the sooner he could perhaps persuade her to join him at the table-

He stopped coming through the door. Eryndes stood there, still, staring at the mass of Dúnedain heading for the doors.

"Something is wrong," Legolas heard the telling in the air. Horses galloping on the main road towards the manor, a woman shouting, folk rushing, gathering outside.

Her head moved slightly to the side and glanced back at him, "I thought I heard . . . " She trailed off moving to follow them outside.

He kept to her side and allowed her to go first.

Outside, a gathering crowd watched two horses circling around each other.

"What is happening here?" Eryndes called to them.

Cordoves pushed her horse in their direction, "Eryndes! I seek sanctuary! I seek sanctuary for Arradis! This time, this time he would've killed her!"

"She's lying," the man on the other horse yelled, "I have done nothing!"

"Calm down," Eryndes pleaded, moving between them. Legolas kept sharply to her side. Standing between irate people on horseback was not smart.

Foolish of her in fact. He edged in even closer.

The man on the horse pointed at Cordoves, "This woman's been after my neck for years! She's crazy-"

"He's done it again, Eryndes. This time he must pay!" Cordoves slid down from her horse, leaving a sight to freeze the blood in his elven veins. The second woman on the horse . . . her face a sorrow tale of abuse. Tears fell down her face left red from cruelty; eyes swollen, bloody gashes and cut lip.

"It was lucky I went to check on Arradis after she failed to come last night," Cordoves continued, "He surely would've killed her!"

"I did naught but discipline my wife."

Legolas watched the man finally get down from his horse, and the terrible need to slay him grew in his breast. The Dúnedain had the same idea, for when the man's feet came upon the ground; the crowd moved in and wrestled him into submission.

"He ought to be strung up!" someone called.

"Cut off his mutinous hands!" cried another.

"Quiet, please," Eryndes tried to calm them and remained between the man and a blood raged Cordoves, "You have already been punished for 'disciplining' your wife, Coston!" She pointed to the woman on the horse, "Is that what you call it? What could she have possibly done to earn-?"

Coston struggled to break free, "She's been hounding with other men-"

"It's a lie!" Cordoves snarled. "Even if she did, does being unfaithful give you the right to beat on her? Rape her? Strangle her?"

At Cordoves' words, the crowd started getting rowdier; one of the men holding Coston threw a punch into his ribs.

"Dúnedain," Eryndes tried to gain control, and slowly they did begin to settle, "Please, calm down. Please, -"

"Leave this matter, Eryndes," a new voice called from the crowd. It was one of the elder masters; Romon. "This is for the masters' council to decide," Romon waved at the men, "release him. Get his wife back to where she belongs-"

Cordoves stood guard between the master and a terrified Arradis, "You will not-"

"You don't want to make an enemy of me, ranger," Romon pointed a finger at Cordoves.

The man was released but the crowd looked murderous, even as they stood back and watched him shove his way towards his wife.

The man, Coston, came to an abrupt halt though.

Legolas stood blocking Coston, his still and calm exterior masking the savagery brewing in his blood. Speaking low through a rigid jaw, Legolas' insides shook in hatred. "Come any closer and I will kill you."

Coston tried to step passed him only to rage when once more Legolas blocked his path, "You have no authority here, elf!"

"Authority or not, you will still be dead," he threatened darkly, only loud enough for Coston to hear, "(and I will spit on the mess not even fit for the pigs and rats)."

Coston paled but then gestured behind Legolas, "That is my wife. I demand her returned to me."

"Retrace your steps," he ordered, seething, "or die."

Coston hesitated but then slowly backed away . . . only to come face to face with the angry crowd.

"Eryndes!" Cordoves barked, "Are you going to let this happen? Where is justice?"

Legolas tore his ire from the man to Eryndes. She reluctantly answered the crowd, "Aragorn will return by the end of the day, he will decide what is to be done-"

"Aragorn will not decide. He chooses for these matters be left to the masters," Romon cut in, then shouted at Eryndes, "As should you."

"Sindar?" Mereniel came rushing to his side, "Can you not intervene?"

"Authority is owned by the Masters' alone. Lord Sindar's granted command starts and ends with the rangers," Romon declared loudly, "This matter is domestic, not military."

"He is right," he murmured to Mereniel. This was not his realm to dispense punishment as he saw fit. He could only command the rangers in Aragorn and Úrion's absence. "Regardless," he told her gravely, "guard the wife."

Instantly, Mereniel snapped to a defensive stance beside him, her small protruding belly a reminder of her precarious condition. But given the situation, Mereniel was still more than able to defend herself than the frail woman on Cordoves' horse.

"Eryndes!" Cordoves shouted, "are you just going to stand there?"

Eryndes hesitated and that was enough to make Cordoves shriek in fury and charge the man, pulling a blade from her belt. "Then be his death at my hand!"

"Cordoves!"

Cordoves stopped at once, stunned, glancing back over her shoulder at Eryndes.

They all looked at her, eyes wide, mouths open. Truly, even Legolas was astounded. He never knew Eryndes could shout so loud.

Eryndes' chest rose and fell with her hard breathing.

Her eyes sought him.

Legolas gave a nod of encouragement. What else could he do? These were her people. He already intervened more than was his right.

She bit her lip then looked? mournfully back to the woman on the horse. Pulling her chin up, she called to the crowd. "Coston, remain standing where you are. You will answer to the allegations levelled at you."

Camaenor, having pushed his way through the Dúnedain, landed a rough hold on Coston's shoulder, "He's not going anywhere."

"Arradis," Eryndes called to the woman who was still on Cordoves' horse, battered, bloodied and completely petrified.

"Arradis, who did this to you?" Eryndes asked gently.

The wife's eyes looked at her husband but didn't answer.

"It was him!" Cordoves answered, "When I arrived he had thrown her to the floor, his hands about her throat, forcing himself upon her-"

"A man cannot rape his own wife!" Coston snarled before Camaenor threw an easy elbow into his side, silencing him with an 'oof'.

"Eryndes, I swear it," Cordoves continued empathetically, "I knocked him off her, subdued him enough for escape and rode here for safety."

Eryndes was still looking at the wife. "Help her down." She walked over and waited for the men to gingerly set the woman to her feet. Gently she took her hand, "Will you tell me what happened? Who did this to you?"

The wife hesitated.

"Tell her the truth!" someone from the crowd called. Many nodded. "Speak!"

"Speak! Speak!" the rest of the crowd encouraged.

The wife sobbed then whispered, "It was as Cordoves said. He said he'd kill me this time."

Eryndes turned the woman's hand, peeling back the sleeve to reveal old bruises going up her arm. Around them the crowd gasped and roared in anger. "How long has this been happening?" Eryndes' voice broke.

The wife sobbed louder in answer.

Eryndes closed her eyes, her body shaking. She opened her eyes and said softly, "I am so sorry we failed you. You have my oath he will never touch you again."

The woman broke down into hysterics. Mereniel moved from Legolas' side and pulled Arradis into her arms.

"Eryndes?" Legolas gently got her attention then gestured to the manor.

Eryndes nodded, "Mereniel, please take her upstairs. Third floor. Stay with her. I will tend her myself."

"Don't you dare!" Coston bellowed, "That is my wife, I have a right to her!"

Eryndes breathed in hard, fury hardening her eyes. She faced the man, "Your rights ended the moment you first struck her! You only got away with it through our neglect. It will not happen again. When Strider returns-"

"We cannot wait for Aragorn!" someone yelled.

"Justice waits for no man!" yelled another.

"Summary punishment is demanded!"

"Stone him!"

"String him up!"

"You will do nothing of the sort!" Romon came striding into the circle, "Only the masters may judge and punish in communal matters! You have the wife. He can no longer harm her. Let the man go until the council convenes to decide his fate!"

"He must be punished immediately!" Cordoves shouted and glared at Camaenor, "It is law!"

Camaenor returned the elite woman ranger's glare with one of indifference, "It is not my decision."

More and more the crowd edged in on the man-

"Wait!" Eryndes looked at them as they all looked at her, then with a reluctant nod of concession, she pointed, "Seize him."

They all looked at her in shock until Cordoves pointed at the man, "She said seize him!"

The crowd grabbed the man by the arms, throwing him hard down on his knees.

Romon pushed through the crowd to Eryndes, "You're overstepping yourself! You think Nestdôl will-"

"Nestdôl is not here!" Cordoves stalked nearer to Coston, "And as the present next of kin to my sister-in-law, I demand justice! And I demand it now! Or by Eru the next judgement passed will be for his murder."

Legolas kept his eye on Eryndes. She glanced above her to the sky, and then took a long shaky breath, "Retrieve the charter. Master of Arms, the punishment shall fit the crime."

Camaenor levelled a disbelieving scoff at her, "You're going to have me beat and rape him? while I strangle him?"

Legolas hissed quietly. Camaenor and Eryndes might not get along, but the blacksmith was being ridiculous.

Eryndes hesitated, every tremble to her posture and lips speaking uncertainty. Her eyes sought Legolas again. He held her gaze but alas could say nothing. In the lands of his father, Coston would have already been put to death.

Deciding finally, Eryndes announced sternly, "Fetch a whip."

Camaenor was clearly surprised but with a firm nod he turned his attention to the rangers still holding the man, "String him up against the wall."

"It is not your decision!" Coston yelled at them. "Romon said it is for the masters to decide!"

But the rangers didn't listen to him.

"I get you for this, strumpet," Coston spat at Eryndes, then spat at Cordoves before being hauled away, "You and that damned hussy's sister. I'll get all of you. You'll see. Mark my words."

By the time the man was strung up facing the wall, his tunic torn from his back, the ranger came running with an ancient book held tightly against his breast. He quickly handed it to Eryndes.

With shaking hands she flicked through the pages, absentmindedly running her hand over her hair and tugging at her dress. When she spoke her voice was loud but with a tremble in her throat, "In the absence of the rightful liege or lord, in matters of domestic law, the master or mistress of a province shall act accordingly to ensure justice is upheld by all and for the protection of all." She flicked hurriedly to another page, "No persons or person shall do harm to another without just cause, the justness being self-preservation or defence of another." Again she moved to a new page, "Under circumstance or circumstances where a husband or wife abuses the traditions and values of Dúnedain, be that harm, neglect, adultery or honour, the victim may absolve the marriage immediately without fear or loss of dignity."

Taking another breath, Eryndes continued to the very back page, "Actions not specified here within shall be punished to the degree of severity of the crime, determined at the discretion by the liege or nobility, or master and or mistress of the land.

She paused, "Justice shall wait for no man." Eryndes lowered the book, closing it and placing her hand on top, "Master of Arms, you are charged to deliver the punishment. Do you sanction?"

Camaenor bowed his head formally, "I do sanction, Mistress. I am ready to fulfil my duty."

Eryndes looked to the man, "Coston, your crimes against your wife are most heinous. In the lands to the south, a wife has no rights. But we are the people of Númenor. You swore Arradis your love and protection, your honour and faith; to be ever a worthy husband. You have failed. You have dishonoured our noble blood. A third time found guilty," her face grew paler, "we will have no choice but to execute you."

She waited but Coston remained silent against the wall, tightly strung up by his wrists.

Finally, Eryndes stiffly nodded to Camaenor, "Three dozen lashes, please."

Camaenor took the whip and experimentally gave it a quick snap-

Legolas saw Bregol come up behind Eryndes and slipped in beside her. "Come," he took her arm, "You don't need to see this."

"Unfortunately I do," she took her arm from Bregol's hold, and replaced her hand upon the book, "The one who passes sentence must pay witness."

Legolas didn't watch Camaenor delve out Coston's punishment. He kept his eyes solely on her, how she flinched with every cry of pain to every lash, her face whiter than fresh snow, her gaze firmly fixed upon the man.

Power was a terrible thing.

When it was over, she took her hand from the book and handed it to the Bregol, "Please, see this is replaced as it was." Bregol reluctantly took it and left. She called out to the crowd, "Take him to the healing wing-"

"Shouldn't we leave him in the dirt?" someone shouted.

"Let him rot!" Cordoves stalked towards Coston, her hands and body itching for more blood-

"Cordoves," Legolas growled quietly.

Even with the noise and shouts, her boots came to an abrupt halt and she turned to him obediently.

"Go attend to your sister-in-law. You have your justice."

The fire in her eyes didn't dim, but she bowed to him and left the gathering in haste for the manor.

"That is not our way," Eryndes was explaining to her people, "Coston has paid for his dishonour and Arradis has her justice and freedom too, if she so wishes it. See he is treated to proper medical care." She quickly began to retreat-

"You had no right!" Romon went after her. "Nestdôl and the masters council-"

With an agile stride Legolas stopped in front of him, "You said your piece, master Romon. I strongly recommend you find something else to occupy your time."

Romon loathingly stared up at him, "You're meddling in matters which don't concern you."

"No indeed," he leant down to the old man's face, "I find it very concerning."

"You're a long way from your lordly lands. It would be wise to not interfere or find your welcome timely worn."

"Romon," Faron came through the crowd to take the master's shoulder, "Come away. The matter is dealt. Come."

Romon shrugged off Faron's hand with a glare at the hunting master before striding away.

Faron held for a moment before uttering quietly, "The masters will be irate. Nestdôl will be . . ." he trailed off, his eyebrows gathering. "He will consider this to be a slur to his authority. She'd better be prepared for the consequences. And Strider too, and yourself."

Legolas' jaw went rigid, "Is that a threat?"

Faron stiffened, "Nay, a caution." Not waiting for a reply, he dispersed back into the crowd.

For a moment Legolas watched Faron go, then swept his gaze to the manor. There were a lot of questions. After all that happened last night, he planned to confront Faron after breakfast . . .

Yet with Faron's warning still in his ears, Legolas decided instead to seek answers from the one person who was guaranteed to talk, who knew the gossip of the people, and already shared Legolas' confidences.

It was far better to be informed before confrontation, than after.

---

"Tell me about Nestdôl."

Foruyndes opened her mouth with a loud cackle, "Do you seek the simple facts or would you rather have the whole sordid history?"

Legolas slid down into the wing chair beside hers in front of the fire, "Why not the simple facts first?"

She chortled, twisting wool awkwardly around her fingers, "He's a nasty old goat."

Legolas blinked when she didn't continue. Patiently, he held out his hands for her, "Perhaps now I see I should have chosen the longer version."

Sliding the wool over to his hands, she wound and unknotted the messy ball. Her thin hunched shoulders raised then fell in a huff, "His line traces back to the days of Fornost. They were squires and healers to kings and nobles. Yet theirs was always lusting for power. Even today. Being the high master is not enough. Those who seek power will always seek more."

Legolas snorted, "Power is as any addiction to those too weak to resist." He frowned, "Do not the Carthals rule over their own lands?"

"Aye, the Carthals have always reigned over the people, but with no title, no noble blood, there are those who are not . . . content. Why should Carthals rule over them when they themselves are no different?"

Foruyndes sighed wearily but continued, "During the years of Thalawest, rule of Carthal lands was sure. Thalawest was a gentle man but never suffered questions to his rule. Nestdôl, on the other hand spent most of his life trying to gain influence and power. His tool of choice back then was none other than his own daughter." Foruyndes stopped to pick at a particularly bad knot, "Oh, he had the poor thing trailing after Thalawest something fierce. A bear after honey. He might've succeeded too, that is until Fuieryn rode into Carthal."

Foruyndes laughed abruptly, her fingers kept a steady rhythm wrapping the twisted wool around his hands, "She was something! Tall, lovely, the manners and grace of a noble woman. Not five minutes after arriving and all the men were in love with her. But Fuieryn, no, she would have none of it. She came north with a purpose."

His dark brow rose, "She came for Thalawest?"

She nodded empathically, "Though daughter to a common ranger, she was raised as a ward in the home of a southern lord, woven and educated as any noble-women fit for a king. Gossip had it she originally favoured Arathorn and indeed the two of them were friends. But Arathorn's heart was already won by another, you see and so he pressed Fuieryn to travel north; there was a amiable and honourable man in need of a good wife, and although title-less, this man held command over the land and the love of his people.

"So Fuieryn came north and not three months later they wed. Oh!" she waved her hand about, "Thalawest was infatuated, lovesick. Yet Fuieryn made no false claim; she wanted a husband of means, authority and honour, and that was good enough for Thalawest. He spent each day proving himself a worthy husband and eventually Fuieryn did come to love her husband.

"She wasn't a slacker either though, bringing seeds from the south to plant fruit trees, vegetable gardens, herbs and grains. Taught the arts of healing, she did, making potions and oils. She planted gardens, lush grasses from secret seeds. She and Thalawest brought the families back to Carthal, built bathhouses, dorm rooms for orphans and widows. Even by the end of their first year of marriage, she also brought forth a strong male heir. Many thought she would continue to bless the union with scores of children, but alas decades passed without falling in with another child. But she was a dutiful and attentive wife, a stern but fair mistress and happy in her marriage.

"The Dúnedain were grateful to her and thus a cottage was built for her as a token of gratitude, to be held in ownership of the female line of Carthal."

Legolas recalled the day he rode into Carthal. "Eryndes' cottage on the main road?"

"Yes, that's the one. It took thirty years before the great hall heard the cries of another Carthal infant." Foruyndes paused, a sternness taking her brow, "A wee little girl. The babe not even properly cleaned from birthing and Fuieryn lowered her wings of protection. Her daughter was never allowed to be without her mother, kept within two steps behind her at all times. The daughter of Thalawest and Fuieryn was to be a lady, not a ranger. Thalawest and her brother, even Aragorn managed to free her from time to time, taking her out riding and even many times to the southern trade routes. For the most part though, she remained under Fuieryn's ever watchful guard."

Her lips trembled, "Then alas, Thalawest and Thalion died and in the same battle no less. The masters' took charge to, excuse me, 'ease' Fuieryn's burden."

"Nestdôl effectively held power ever since?"

Foruyndes finished looping the wool over his hands and tied it off. He could see the hesitation behind her eyes, "Foruyndes?"

"Fuieryn had no real claim to command the Dúnedain. She did what she could to protect her daughter from the likes of Nestdôl and his schemes, but if it hadn't been for Aragorn, Eryndes would have been married off upon her fifteenth birthday."

The thought was sickening, and perhaps coming to understand a little better the conversation he'd had with her upon their first encounter, "The honour-kinship?"

She nodded, licking her fingers and tying the wool around her needle. "Allowed him to protect her and decreed her marriage to be of her own choosing, at a time of her own choosing."

Legolas considered. "I see now the reason for the hatred between Aragorn and Nestdôl."

Foruyndes clucked her tongue, "They never did get along. Strider was ever a fly in the ointment of Nestdôl's plans." She began knitting with a practiced ease seemingly beyond her frailty. "Even now, Nestdôl plans and schemes."

"Do you know of his current scheme?"

"Do you know?" Foruyndes went on like she'd not heard him, "After Thalawest was wed, Nestdôl's daughter was considered useless to her father? The poor thing. Left to the mundane labours in the manor, invisible to her father. Eventually she fell in love with a ranger and spent years begging her father to be allowed to marry. Many say Nestdôl was resentful of her for not delivering him the Carthal family, that nasty old goat. He only allowed them to marry after decades of waiting. Decades! Then of course she bore a child, who unfortunately killed her upon coming into the world. The husband went mad with grief and hung himself in their barn. Nestdôl took in the boy, raised and twisted him to be another tool in his lust for power."

Legolas stared at her and wondered at the callous way she described such terrible happenings, "And who is his grandson?"

Foruyndes sniggered, "You don't know? His grandson is Bregol."

---

"Are you certain?"

Legolas snorted, "Faron called me by name, so indeed, I am fairly certain." Having sought out Aragorn the moment he pulled his horse up to the manor, they returned to the private chamber in the war room.

With the door closed.

Aragorn was all agog. "How did he know?"

"He refused to say; only our meeting occurred in the distant past."

Aragorn rubbed his hand over his beard, "He will not refuse to tell me."

"Forget him," he said firmly. He continued with haste when Aragorn looked as if to argue, "I shall deal with him myself. We have more pressing matters to discuss."

"Yes," Aragorn agreed, still caught up in his thoughts. "Faron's probably just stirring trouble. Still it wouldn't hurt to have a word with him. We don't want folk coming to know your true name by gossip. That we do not need. You're right though, our immediate concern should lie with the threat from Carn Dûm. Yet, I am wondering if they're connected; the army massing in the fortress and the trouble we had with the last caravan and the marauders. Then there was the spell caster... Is he just out for sport or does he play a part in this?"

Legolas studied him, "When you speak this way, I feel I am still sitting in the kitchen side room with Foruyndes."

Aragorn frowned then his eyes came back into focus with a wry smirk, "At least I'm not knitting you a scarf for winter."

Legolas sat back with annoyance, "I fail to see the humour. Her's is a kind gesture."

Aragorn sniggered, "You did explain elves don't suffer from the cold?"

"No one has ever made me a scarf before," he accounted with a low murmur. He crossed his arms over his chest, "What of your idea to send south for more rangers?"

"I have thought on it," he admitted, "and that time may be upon us. But first, I may take a few rangers further south and send word to Mithrandir. Perhaps he may know who this spell caster is."

Legolas considered this carefully, "This spell caster has you on the top branch."

"I do not like the idea of having a sorcerer so close to my people."

"We know not if it is the same one as I saw in Angmar-"

"He may have followed you back, leading him directly to Carthal."

For many seconds, he held Aragorn's gaze, "No one followed me and might I remind you; Carthal has stood here longer than I."

Aragorn let out a long breath, "Forgive me. I know you of all people would've never allowed yourself to be followed. I shouldn't have suggested it."

"Thousands of orcs currently sit in Carn Dûm and you are more concerned about couple magic wavers? Playing with foliage to torment orcs and turning air to mist to frighten rangers?" He continued before Aragorn could answer. "I will go find this magician and I will question him."

Aragorn was shaking his head even before he finished, "Melloneg, I need you to stay here. I mean I ask you to remain here. Keep a sharp eye to the north until my return."

Legolas hesitated, for sure he was not too keen to leave Carthal again so soon, but if this spell-caster was truly worth Aragorn's concern . . . "Should you not be the one to remain?"

The lines on Aragorn's forehead grew, "Why do you think so?"

Legolas didn't have the chance to explain his misgivings; outside the small room came raised voices. A moment later Úrion tapped on the door.

"Come," Aragorn said quickly and Úrion poked his head in. "What is the fuss?"

"Your pardon, Strider, but Nestdôl's here and demands you attend him."

Aragorn nodded, "No doubt he plans to run me through for Eryndes' actions this morning. Very well," he got up, "Let us deal with this now."

Legolas followed him and Úrion out of the small office, a line of concern etched between his brows.

"Can this not wait?" Aragorn calmly demanded Nestdôl, walking over to the nearest table to sit, "Our discussions at present are of the utmost importance."

"I assure you my words are just as important," Nestdôl waved towards Úrion, and the other rangers in the war room, and then with emphasis at Legolas, "I seek your private ear, Aragorn."

No one moved but Nestdôl waited, his eyes burning into Aragorn's.

With a reluctant nod, Aragorn bid they depart.

Legolas didn't move.

"Aragorn?" Nestdôl waved at Legolas again.

Sitting further back on the edge of the table, Aragorn crossed his arms over his chest, "You have two minutes, old man."

"I seek your private ear."

"And you have it." Aragorn's eyes flicked to Legolas, "Whatever this urgent matter, you may trust in Sindar's discretion."

"Are all Carthal and Dúnedain matters to be known by Mirkwood? Is our noble heir now Thranduil's puppet?"

"Speak carefully," Legolas warned dangerously.

"You have no business in this matter! Carthal is Dúnedain, not Woodland! If you think I will allow some elf-king take control-"

"Of a farmhouse and a few farms?" Legolas laughed cruelly, "Why should my lord bother?"

Nestdôl drew himself up, "Aragorn! I demand to speak to you alone!"

"Demand away," Aragorn calmly answered, "But to no satisfaction. You may choose to speak, or you may choose to leave; Sindar stays or leaves as he wishes. You or I do not command him."

Nestdôl eyed them both. "It is a concern to the masters how much this elf is influencing you. If you do not yield-."

"The heir of men does not yield to you!"

"(Melloneg, ease your temper)," Aragorn soothed with a touch to his arm. "Speak, Nestdôl. Your two minutes wanes. I have a war to fight."

Nestdôl bristled, "I come to call for censure on behalf of the masters. The happenings of this morning and last night cannot be allowed to reoccur."

"I beg your pardon?" Aragorn responded smoothly.

Nestdôl raised his chin, "Can you truly condone her behaviour?"

Legolas felt his ire begin to brood, "What is there to condemn?"

"This is no concern of yours," Nestdôl snapped without looking at him.

"Master healer," Aragorn said firmly, "you will use respect when addressing Sindar."

Nestdôl's wrinkled face screwed further, "The elf is half the reason I am here! Or do you approve of the flirtations between the two?"

A slow grin happily grew upon Legolas lips. He was as guilty as Nestdôl accused. He wasn't ashamed.

Aragorn however remained very calm, "The elf is a lord and is to be honoured as one."

Nestdôl's eyes narrowed and pushed his old body up to full height, "Aragorn, the time has come. You must abdicate."

Legolas' eyes widened in outrage.

"Abdicate?" To his surprise Aragorn chuckled, "Abdication? Please, do explain."

"I think we both know the reasons. This morning's sorry state of affairs makes it irrefutable; a clear leadership must be established."

"This morning?" Aragorn nodded, taking a moment, "You refer perhaps to Eryndes' punishment of the wife-beater, Coston?"

"You know that I am. She had no right to circumvent the masters'-"

"She has every right," Aragorn cut in smoothly. "And Coston got off lightly."

Nestdôl stopped, his eyes wide.

"Had I presided he would've been publicly castrated." Aragorn nodded at Legolas, "And very fortunate Sindar didn't disembowel him on sight. Elves take rape and attempted murder even more seriously than I."

Legolas gave Nestdôl an evil glare.

Swallowing, Nestdôl redirected his attention back to Aragorn, "This only serves to prove my point. There must be a clear rule, otherwise any man," he scoffed, "or foolish girl will take it upon themselves to make rash judgements and soon all of Carthal would be in anarchy."

"A foolish girl?" Again Aragorn was very smooth, "Eryndes who is the only one here with the blood of Carthal?"

"And whose fault is that?" Nestdôl pointed at Aragorn, "Because of you we have no master and no heir. How long before she is too old for breeding?"

'Breeding?' Legolas' jaw dropped in astonishment.

Aragorn shook his head, "You speak of her as if she is a broodmare."

Nestdôl sniggered, "What other purpose would she have?"

Fury lashed through Legolas and he dived to his feet.

Aragorn quickly stepped in front of him, but remained facing Nestdôl, "I caution you, old man. Of the three in this room, you're the least able to defend his tongue." The smooth calmness of his manner and tone had diminished. The stiffness in his stance spoke of the seriousness of his warning.

Unlike Legolas, it took a lot to shake Aragorn's temper. Nestdôl was very close to shattering it.

"You are the Chieftain, yet your interests lie exclusively with the south. You abandoned to your rule to skylark away your years with elves." Nestdôl showed his stumpy teeth, "If you will not abdicate then Carthal needs a master by marriage."

Aragorn let a harsh hiss through his teeth, "That is up to Eryndes."

"The silly girl has no intention of marrying!" Nestdôl shrilled, "You have spared her long enough. The time has come; pass the rule completely to the masters council or command her to wed."

Aragorn took a long stride in Nestdôl's direction, "You do not dictate to me, nor to her."

"Then you choose an end to Númenor! The Dúnedain will not survive civil war."

"War is coming and yet you care more for gaining power," Aragorn accused, "Have you no honour?"

"By your slack leash she will die childless and Carthal destroyed by orcs, marauders or by internal fighting?" Nestdôl pointed down to the ground floor, "Reel her in before she destroys us all!"

"Tell us then, who should she wed?" Aragorn soured, "Your grandson?

Nestdôl didn't even blink. "Bregol has the good of the Dúnedain in mind."

"I believe my sister has given Bregol no encouragement-"

"Oh but she has. She's led him on, teased him and played the games of any tavern harl-"

Aragorn was in his face in an instant, "You do not want to finish that statement. Trust me, you do not."

Legolas saw Nestdôl's wrinkles deepen as his eyes widened. "You cannot threaten me. The people won't stand for it."

Aragorn took hold of the man's shirt front, "Leave this room now. Go run your council. While I still allow it."

Nestdôl pulled himself back away. He held himself up proudly. "Carthal does not look to you. If it were not for the masters, the manor, the lands, all of it would have been destroyed long ago."

"Leave."

The quiet order from Aragorn resounded through the room more than any shout. Nestdôl tugged his clothes back into position and left with a huff.

But no less quickly.

Aragorn could be very menacing when he chose to be.

In this case however, it was not enough. "Perhaps you should do more than argue," Legolas said quietly. "From what I have heard, he holds sway with many of the people."

"No doubt through intimidation and racketeering." Aragorn made an indignant sound in his throat, "Nestdôl's an old man, looking for the last bit of glory before the sun sets. He wouldn't dare start something serious. He's too much of a coward."

The fell feeling he'd had since Faron's warning fouled his belly. "From what I have heard he will not simply heed your warning."

Aragorn answer was polite, "Nestdôl is not worth your concern, my friend. He has his uses, mainly allowing me to focus entirely on Angmar and our lands to the south. Come, I want to organise to send word to Gell and prepare to leave."

"Aragorn," Legolas' face tightened. "You cannot leave a man like Nestdôl in charge of Carthal. You are their rightful king and their protection is your responsibility."

"That is what I am doing," Aragorn held open the door for the others, "by fighting this war."

Legolas watched the others come back into the war room, his fingers curling, "It is a mistake."

Aragorn glanced at him briefly. "Úrion? I want you and Sindar to take charge of the rangers for a few days. No more than three weeks. I wish to send word south and leave within the hour. With the weather still fair, I can be thirty miles hence before nightfall. While I'm gone, have the last caravan prepared. Once I return, I will take it south myself and seek out Gell and his rangers."

Aragorn did leave within the hour.

Half an hour after that, the masters council convened.

---

"I think we are to fail," Eryndes cried.

"No we won't! Just keep going!"

Giggling, the four of them trudged on. They were coming back from the herb gardens the children were learning how to tend. The rest of the children ran off the moment she announced they chores were done enough for the day. Some of the others trailed about, following her back to the manor.

"Come on, Eryndes, we're almost there!"

Eryndes put one leg in front of the other. She was their mule, one girl in each arm, while the youngest girl hung from her shoulders.

"Eryndes?" Briel and her friend Alacthel came up tentatively, "May we be excused? We'd like to go see Sindar."

Bemused, she tried to reposition the arms clinging around her throat without the use of her hands, "Would Sindar appreciate your disturbing him? Undoubtedly he has more important duties. Perhaps it would be best to wait until supper."

The two girls started to pout-

She almost chocked when the arms around her neck tightened, "Very well," she struggled to balance the girl upon her shoulders again, "you may go look for him. But if he is busy, or doesn't want you hanging around you must return immediately."

Their faces lit up and holding each other's hand, the two of them took off with a girlish squeal; few of the others joining them. Eryndes smiled secretly. If Sindar was still feeling awkward around kids, he'd soon be cured; he was their new topic of curiosity.

"No more than half an hour!" she called after them, "Then return to your lessons."

"Come on, Eryndes!" one of the girls jiggled against her hip. "We're almost there!"

Finally getting to the stoned path, she breathed a deep sigh and cheered along with the girls.

"We knew you could do it! You're a good mule!"

She laughed and gently took the girl from her neck and placed her beside the others. "There you go. Now take her upstairs with you. Mydedis has wheels set up for your class."

"Why don't the boys have to learn how to work wool-wheels?"

"None of that," she patted them down, brushing and pulling their clothes back into position, "Goodness, how did you get so dirty? Off you go. Just hide the mud on your clothes or Mydedis will have me in the washroom as penitence!"

They giggled then went off, the two elder girls towing the younger between them.

"Eryndes!"

Eryndes searched for the one who called. "Amdiel."

The young woman gave her a one armed hug, "Look! Look at Brui! See how grown he is!"

Eryndes' heart soared, "Hello there, Brui," taking the small bundle from Amdiel with practiced hands and cuddled him close, "Oh, he is just beautiful."

"Oh, isn't he?" Amdiel cooed proudly. "And the best baby."

"Is he now?" she cooed just as adoringly, softly touching the boy's tender cheek.

"He sleeps, and eats as I'm told he should."

Eryndes grinned down at the little blue eyes barely opening, "Have you been spoiling your mother?" She tested him in her arms, "He is gaining good weight. He must be a good eater."

Amdiel chortled, "He has his father's appetite; always hanging on my breast." Still grinning, she leaned in closer, "Actually, would you mind taking a look at him. I know you're busy-"

"Not at all," Eryndes gestured to a table to the side. "I am never too busy to spend time with babies, you know that."

"I think it's just a rash from his nappy cloth but I wanted to be certain."

Almost reaching the table, Eryndes smiled down at the little boy yawning. He was such a beautiful boy. "Of course, no trouble at all-"

"Amdiel!"

Both Eryndes and Amdiel jumped and turned around in surprise. Nestdôl came striding as quickly as his old bones allowed. His hand flew violently, "Take that child away!"

They stood staring and Eryndes wasn't even sure he was yelling at them. He seemed enraged.

"Nestdôl?"

"I said take that child away!"

"Whatever for?" Eryndes demanded, instinctively drawing the baby boy against her.

"No childless woman shall hold the life of another's baby!" he came in and reached around her for the boy.

Eryndes darted back, "What? That is just a foolish superstition!"

"Is it?" Nestdôl fumed, "It is written in the charter. You must remember, since you're so fond of reciting it. Our forebears knew not to risk an infant's life upon the jealousy of a childless woman!"

Every muscle in her body tensed. "That law was abandoned two thousand years ago!"

"It is abandoned no longer. We the masters have deemed it vital. You will abide by the charter. You and every other childless will teach or tend to no child!"

"Eryndes," Amdiel whispered, creeping close to her under Nestdôl's ire.

The little boy started crying in earnest, "It is fine. Here, take him. Go on." She faced Nestdôl as she'd been forced to far too many times before, "This is absurd! That law was drawn into the charter because once long ago half the children died of plague."

"The charter is law! The masters are law!" Nestdôl shoved a crooked finger in her face, "If you want to be around babies so much perhaps you should make one before you're as barren as your heart!"

She choked against the swell in her throat. "Nestdôl," she implored, "please, please don't do this-"

"You were warned but you chose to remain stubborn. Well, now you can rejoice, you have your way. We won't call for your marriage any longer. But understand, until you wed and bare a child, you will wither, ever at distance from the children."

The sights of Nestdôl's face blurred, "Nestdôl, please don't-"

"Do you hear me? Either marry or stay away from the children!" He grinned victoriously and walked away.

"Aragorn won't let you get away with this!" she wailed after him.

"Won't he?" Nestdôl kept walking, "You and I both know where Aragorn's concerns lie and it is not here."

"Nestdôl? Nestdôl! You cannot be so cruel!" she cried going after him, tears burning down her cheeks. "Nestdôl! Nestdôl!"

---

"Do you not think I have told enough tales for one day?"

The children surrounding him in the barn snickered and giggled, all with a collective, 'nay'. They'd cornered him in there. He'd been checking on Aglarebon, hoping visiting his young friend would ease the misgiving in his heart after Aragorn left for the south.

Then the children pounced.

Within minutes he'd been coaxed into stories and fairytales of far off places while just over a dozen children sat and lay about in the hay for what must have been over an hour.

Legolas gave them a stern eye, "Whether you think so or not, I have students waiting for me." He rose from the wooden chaff bin, and settled the youngest boy who'd climbed up to sit beside him during the first tale back to his feet. He brushed the straw from the boy's hair and shirt-back, "Alas, I have my duty."

"But Sindar-"

"No 'buts', Briel," he told her firm but not unkind. Though children were still not something he was accustomed, they were beginning to grow on him. Their blunt and jejune manners were refreshing, and undoubtedly charming.

Briel, clearly eldest child present, gave in but not without sticking out her lower lip, "I suppose if they need you, then we must let you."

"How exceedingly generous of you," Legolas groused, leading them out the barn, "Now, off to your afternoon lessons."

"But it's getting close to suppertime," one of the younger girls whined.

"Then you best hurry or go hungry."

Their widened eyes and gasps almost made him laugh, and did so once they were off, flying across the grass towards the manor as fast as their little legs could go. It was a harmless ruse Úrion taught him. The father of five, and soon to be six, knew well how to sway children.

His light mood didn't last.

Even before Legolas arrived at the archery field, he knew something was amiss. The grounds seemed . . . empty.

Legolas at first thought the fell feeling in his stomach might have been from the bean chip he'd been dared to eat that morning. But when only less than a third of the students showed, most notably Laeron and Baradon, Legolas dismissed the class and went to investigate.

Stepping through the side door into the great hall, he was struck again by the silence. Surely the women would be in the kitchen, waking the dead with their elf-spine-shattering cackles and hooting?

His eyes narrowed; the kitchen was silent, so silent his elf ears heard mice scurrying behind the walls.

Heightening his exceptional hearing, the sound of light steps, slow and whispered, came from the stair case.

He marched through the hall to the doorway into the corridor . . . to find the lightweight, soft shoed woman coming down the stairs belonged to Sali.

Ready to hasten a stealthy retreat, he almost missed the look of her face.

"What is the matter?" he demanded with as much civility he could manage when dealing with this woman.

Sali barely looked at him, her aged eyes seemingly always upon his person, were now gravely downcast. "Injustice, cruelty."

His forehead furrowed, "What are you talking about? What has happened here? Where is everyone?"

Sali still didn't look at him, her words barely strong enough to pass her lips, "To separate lovers by law, toss aside rights because of sex," her throat caught, "to strip women from children." Finally she made it to the ground floor and looked up at him. Legolas took a step back seeing the haunt in her eyes. "Every tree has its bad roots, my dear Sindar. And evil men will walk amongst the righteous."

Her feet trudged her away, "To think I have lived to see this day cometh. This bleak, bleak day."

"Mistress?" he stepped after her but she kept going, head and feet set to a path away, "Sali?" he tried again, for the first time speaking her name. But she didn't respond.

An aged, trembling hand brought a handkerchief to her eyes.

He reacted at once. "Sali?" he implored, taking her path to stop her, "What has befallen?" when her answer was further tears, he gently took her frail wrist and elbow and guided her towards the nearest chair.

"Are you ill? Can I bring you something?"

Sitting down she came a little closer to her senses, "I'm fine. It is not I who needs your attention, my fair fellow."

"Then?" he knelt down beside her to look into her face, "who?"

Sali dabbed her eyes again, still not truly looking at him, but then with a deep breath to settle, she told him. "Baradon."

Halfway through the wool shed, Legolas closed up behind the ranger's prone body. He quietly cleared his throat.

Roughly pulling himself into a sitting position, Baradon didn't answer. The air was still from his lack of breath.

"What ails you?" Legolas quietly prompted.

Releasing his held breath with a whispered sniff, Baradon discreetly wiped at his face.

Legolas glanced longingly back at the exit. He had not expected to find the young man crying. Comforting crying men was not his job. Neither was comforting crying women. This was Aragorn's talent. He could go find Urion?

Legolas didn't move then sighed. "Baradon?"

Baradon kept his face turned away and finally spoke, "It's nothing, Sindar."

Discomfort hastily turning to irritation, he pressed, pressing far more than perhaps was decent. "It is evidently not nothing. Tell me what has happened."

His irritation grew when Baradon remained silent. "Speak, ranger."

Baradon turned further away from him, shielding himself from sight. "The masters . . . reached their decision," he took a couple breaths before regaining himself, "they voted nay. They say I'm ill-prepared to take a wife. That I am . . . unworthy."

An involuntary brow rose, "How did they come to this decision?"

Baradon buried his face in his hands. "I have only my family's cottage. No farm. No treasure. I'm a ranger and nothing else." He hunched over further, his tone becoming weaker, "Five years. They will review my situation in five years. Celegeth, she - they cancelled our betrothal and urged her to choose another."

From what he'd seen of the young woman last night, that didn't seem likely. "Surely she would not."

Baradon's face turned away and he rose quickly for the door. "Please, Sindar," he wept over his shoulder as he fled at speed, taking off to who knew where.

Legolas watched him go, a pang twisting in his breast.

Marching back into the manor, Legolas followed his nose. The fragrance was there; the particular mix of sweetness and flowers he could follow around the grounds like a bloodhound.

The ruling over Baradon's betrothal was ludicrous. Surely the masters' had exceeded their authority? Not even his father was guilty for anything so malicious. Thranduil could be cruel and petty to his enemies, but to force lovers apart and order them to choose another?

Striding down the corridors, the scent led him straight to one of the supply cupboards, the medicine supply cupboard.

The door was ajar.

"Eryndes?"

The telling sniff and quick rustling told he him all he needed about what she'd been doing in there. He stepped around the door to see her wiping her face and his heart burned, "Why are you crying? Are you unwell?"

"I am quite well," she told him, her voice anything but steady. She edged around him, hiding her face, "Please, I must beg you excuse me. I . . . have duty I must attend."

"Eryndes? Wait." Sali. Baradon. Now Eryndes? He tried to take her arm, "(Please tell me-)?"

"I am so sorry," she gasped, dodging his hand and rushing away. "Please, I must go."

He wanted to stop her.

Instead, he had to watch her go. She didn't want to speak to him.

With a stern set to his jaw, he looked about him. Carthal was still the same; dark stone manor, grassy green compound filled with farming and families. Yet suddenly an inhospitable cloud was settling over the ancient fortress.

It was silent. It was cold.

Finding his way back downstairs, he went to the kitchen hoping to find Foruyndes. She was indeed there, as too were Sali, Mydedis, Mereniel and an irate looking Cordoves.

"Please tell me you've come to spare me from cooking, Sindar?"

"Slicing meat and opening jars is not cooking, Swan darling," Mydedis put in cheerfully. "Sindar, dear. Whatever you need might have to wait for a bit. We're a little short of hands at the present."

"So I see," he said darkly. He saw through Mydedis' forced cheer. He saw Sali quietly carving at a bench. Foruyndes hadn't even lifted her head. "Where are the others?"

Except for Cordoves muttering a curse and tossing a cleaned bone into the waste receptacle, they didn't answer.

Sali sniffed before answering, "Some of the women are consoling the victims. They will not come down for supper. Most of the family folk are in meeting."

"Sindar, my lad?" Foruyndes called without looking up, "Would you mind terribly giving an old woman a hand? I know I ask much of you but these old hands cannot keep up anymore."

Walking awkwardly through the kitchen which had always been filled with laughter and warmth, he moved to Foruyndes' side, "Will you not tell me what has befallen?"

Foruyndes handed him a knife and a large leg of cured pork, "Aye," she soothed. "But know that our hearts are heavy and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Legolas cut into the pork as he'd been shown, "I shall endure."

"You know about Baradon?"

Legolas stiffened, "That he would make an unworthy husband is the foulest of lies."

"And about childless women?"

"Sali only said they were forbidden to be near the children," he told her quietly, "the resurrection of ancient law, created during the years when plague killed thousands."

"And left many women burying children and the rest barren." Foruyndes stifled a sniff, "And about poor Arradis?"

He looked at her, "What of her?"

"The masters decreed Eryndes' punishment to be in error," Mereniel slapped a tray filled with roasted vegetables down on the opposite side of the bench, "They say Arradis has no proof it was her husband who hurt her. The masters compensated Coston with his wife's treasure and lands, calling it a debt of injustice. Arradis has been left with nothing."

Foruyndes pointed to the ceiling, "Many of the folk are meeting, discussing the situation-"

"The situation is people are considering leaving!" Cordoves shouted, "Including me."

Legolas raised an eyebrow at her.

Her anger subsided and she looked down, "I'm sorry Sindar. I have three girls. How can I allow them to grow up in a land with no respect for women? I will take my girls and Arradis and we will find a home somewhere else."

"I find it contradictory," Legolas mused darkly, "the women are required to marry or suffer loss of face, yet the Dúnedain uphold the tightest laws and expectations of marriage. I have heard much about the duties and worthiness placed on a Dúnedain husband-"

"Aye," Mereniel agreed, "the women must marry because it is only through them our bloodline will continue. If women were encouraged to remain maids, our race would die. That doesn't mean we have to be barbaric. To be a husband of the Dúnedain is a privilege, since there more men than women, and so each man must continually seek to be found worthy of it. But now," Mereniel sighed, "Families won't want their children taught childless women are not to be trusted, face forced marriage or fear men-"

"My husband would never hit a woman!" Cordoves cut in hard, "Not even our girls. He always left it to me to chastise them. And Lobordir? He'd cut off his own manhood before striking a woman. Or I would've for him."

"Many of the more powerful families," Mereniel went on, shooting a tiresome look at Cordoves, "will not stand for the masters ruling. They will take to the south, leaving Carthal will be as it once was; a military outpost. No more community. No families. No children. No dancing or music. None would want to raise a family here."

"With the families will go the number of rangers, their labours and trades," Legolas put in quietly.

"Baineth's family, you remember Baineth? Sweet thing," Foruyndes nudged him until he nodded, "they are brewers. Her father is the master brewer and he will not allow his daughter to be kept away from children or have her stripped of right to property. Or told whom she will marry. The same with Geledir's family, stockmen. Gueniel's family, weavers. Tanners. Coopers, smiths and copperers. Families with thousands of years of knowledge will up and leave-"

"A few of the others are trying to convince them to stay." Mereniel looked up at the ceiling, "Úrion and Eryndes vow when Strider returns, he will set the masters straight."

"Aye he will. And my horse writes lovelorn-poetry-"

"Cordoves," Legolas cut her off warningly. "Remember of whom you speak. He is your rightful king."

Her hard edge faulted. "My life I swear his, but what of my girls?" she asked him barely above a whisper, "How can I trust their future to a reluctant and an absentee king?" She cleared her throat, "If he will not act, I will have no choice but to leave."

"Have patience," he said firmly. "Trust in Aragorn. I vow to you, he will not allow these rulings to become law."

A few hours later, once all the food was sent out, so was Legolas, sent from the kitchen to go eat. None of his offers to stay and aid them further were accepted, and so he made his way to his seat in the half empty hall.

Legolas never thought he'd miss the usual deafening noise of talk and laughter.

He was almost to his seat when Eryndes approached, her graceful figure bent, her shoulders pulled low.

"I came to apologise," she offered quietly, "for earlier."

He studied her thoughtfully. "There is no need. The error is mine. I did not realise how strongly you would be affected by the masters rulings."

She broke eye contact. "Most women adore children. Perhaps it is our greatest weakness."

"I am sorry," his words felt inadequate in his mouth.

She lifted her head and said with a brave smile, "All will be well again once Aragorn returns."

"Indeed," he agreed, a tingling sensation breaking out in his fingers, "Will you not sit," he indicated the seat next to his, "for dinner?"

The breath held tightly in his lungs felt like a river ready to burst its bank during a flood.

Her smile grew. "Thank you but I cannot. Many families still demand my presence. Today's happenings will keep folk on edge to days to come."

When she excused herself, he watched her go then dropped heavily into his seat.

"You look like someone's stolen your wine," Úrion laughed, coming to his seat on the opposite side of the table. "Just remember, I don't like wine so it was probably one of the women." Úrion filled his plate without waiting for a reply.

No, his wine was there.

A smile tugged at his lips and the darkness of his mood vanishing into bright sunshine.

Next to the wine was a steaming mug of uruilas tea.

---

Over the next few days, the Dúnedain continued to walk gloomy about each other. Most of the men were even more outraged than the women. Then there were some who cared little or even approved of the masters' dictations.

This of course led to heated words shot across from one table to another during meals, outside in the fields and soon leading to brawls.

Baradon kept admirably to his duties, his face ever strong and proud. Yet it didn't take elf eyes to see the hidden grief. Neither did his glance drift whenever Celegeth was in proximity.

One early morning Legolas spied Baradon saddling his gelding. Making a decision, he led Aglarebon out his stall and drew beside them.

Baradon paused buckling the last strap but Legolas remained silent.

"Sindar?" Baradon finally asked, "You're riding out?"

"As are you," he answered simply.

"Where are you going?"

Raising a dark brow at the young man, he eased himself up upon Aglarebon's back.

"I'm going to my family's cottage," he stammered red faced, "nothing of great importance. You don't want to waste your time-"

"My time is mine to waste. Lead on."

Baradon heard the order in his tone and quickly lead them out under the stone gateway and down the long forest banked road. Baradon's family cottage turned out to be only a short ten minute ride, through intricate turns and twists along the less used tracks directly west of Carthal Manor.

Though not having any prior expectations, approaching the cottage Legolas fully admitted he was surprised. The cottage was large and built sturdy; at least twice the size of Eryndes'. The barn was also large with well maintained horse yards. The gardens were recently planted yet rosy with colour even this close to winter. There was a small stream nearby which fed into a pond filled with flowering reeds and ducks. Even the wood pile was well stocked.

Baradon spent most of every day at the manor, yet somehow still found time to do all this. He'd obviously been planning to provide a home, a comfortable home fit for a young wife for some time.

Yet the masters decreed all this not enough? So this was their strategy? Hurt those around Aragorn until he gave in and abdicated?

Legolas scanned the cottage; it was handsome. An obviously recent an extension had been done to the back. "Have you done all of this?"

Baradon looked down then dismounted. "Laeron and some of the others helped when their duties allowed. The women of the manor donated bits and pieces; linen and all that. I have a few horses over at Geledir's. Not quite a dozen but the number's due to grew with the coming spring." He sighed and let his gelding wander freely. "The land extends three mile into the forest," he pointed to the thick forest to the left, "At least two hundred paces will have to be cleared."

Legolas looked at the dense forest, filled with age old trees and wild mints and blackberries. "Cleared for?"

"Farming."

Baradon was no farmer. Legolas was going to mention that when he walked passed him towards the back of the cottage. Following he found him studying the stream.

"The gardens will have to be cut back to make way for equipment and machinery. These lands were never cleared for farming . . ." he trailed off, the tone of his voice telling volumes.

His family's cottage was never intended for farming but a place of peace and privacy. Foruyndes and Sali had told him Baradon was the only one born of ranger parents, orphaned by the age of twelve and raised by his father's best friend; Celegeth's father.

Legolas let out a deep breath. "Baradon. It is not right of me to speak on Aragorn's behalf with a personal matter such as yours, but I do not think tearing down all three miles of forest will be enough to appease the masters. Their actions I believe to be more to do with Aragorn than you. It would be wise to wait for his return."

Baradon was already shaking his head, the pain he'd been so strong at hiding blinked briefly onto his face. "I must . . ." his paused to stop the catch in his throat, "do something."

"You are no farmer."

He flinched. "I can learn. I must learn," his lip trembled, "I won't lose her. I couldn't live with it. I love her. I've always loved her. Even when we were children, I knew someday I would marry her."

"Have you," he cleared his throat, "spoken with her?"

"Her father took them back to their farm last night, Carthal not being a good place for the younger kids anymore. He told me to wait a few days and he'd come with bullocks to help me with clearing-"

"Have you spoken to her?"

"And say what?!" Baradon snapped, completely out of character. The young man dropped his head in shame, "Forgive me, Sindar, I-"

"Has she heard from your own lips? That you are determined never to surrender her?"

Baradon lifted his head, doubt filling his eyes.

Legolas snorted at him, "Do you not think she would like too?"

The lightly bearded jaw loosed, lips parting, and Baradon glanced quickly back to where his gelding and Aglarebon were grazing then back to Legolas.

Knocking his head to the side, Legolas scoffed reproachfully, "(Go, you fool)."

For the first time in days, Baradon smiled then rushed away.

Horse and ranger were gone in moments and Legolas was left alone with Aglarebon at the cottage. He took in the house, the finely kept barn and grounds. The sun creeping over the trees filled with small birds, making the cottage glow with golden light.

It was a good home and from he'd seen, Celegeth would be a kind and loving wife.

Walking back towards Aglarebon, he conceded Aragorn was not the only one to be envied.

Retracing the maze of tracks back to the main north road, Legolas gently pulled Aglarebon to a stop. He concentrated on the wind. By this time the sun was well risen. A disturbance sounded in the distance . . .

Dúnedain horses. Slow and with a wagon.

Faron.

A few hours after giving Legolas the warning, Faron and a small group left Carthal to hunt boar. Most likely just after the masters voted.

Aglarebon snorted impatiently.

"(Take ease, young one. We will wait for them)," he soothed.

Aglarebon hooved into the well worn road.

"(Have patience)," he stroked his mane, "(They shalt be long)."

He was correct. Half a minute later the hunters lead a wagon team over the crest and down the road. At the head was indeed Faron.

Faron didn't react to seeing them waiting and when they were close enough he guided his mare around Aglarebon then pulled up, "Fair morning for a ride, Sindar."

"(Tell them to continue)." It had been almost a week since their fight and the warning the morning after.

"You are on the masters council," Legolas bit out when they'd dropped back far enough from the others to not be heard.

If Faron was surprised, he didn't show it. "I voted against them," he admitted easily, "but mine and Joust's vote counts for little. We are but juniors on a council twice my age."

Legolas digested for a pause. "What of the others? Amben? Geledir? I refuse to believe-" he stopped when Faron laughed.

"They wouldn't dare oppose Nestdôl. Not while they still live at Carthal anyway. I'd wager half the folk are ready packed for the south by now? The man's a fool. Who will he reign over if there's naught but rangers at Carthal?"

"Yet you and Joust opposed him."

"We don't have any families to consider. Well, Joust has his elder sister, but we all know how Cordoves does things. None would be daft enough to mess with her or her kids."

"What of Camaenor? He has no family."

This time Faron did show caution, a fleeting shadow crossing his face, "Well we all have our secrets, don't we? And Nestdôl's the kind of man to keep dossiers on everyone. Facts and gossip."

Legolas wasn't given the chance to respond.

"Before you ask, Nestdôl knows nothing of you. He suspects you're naught but a marionette, a shrewd spy for Thranduil, here to protect Aragorn and Woodland's interests here in the north," Faron explained then narrowed his eyes, "In that he is not precisely wrong, is he?"

Legolas could have chosen not to answer, but there was something about Faron that continued to irk him, like a small thorn stuck in his trousers. "I am no spy."

Faron waved his words away harshly, "Yes, I'm sure elf-kings send their sons far away to dangerous lands all the time for kicks."

Legolas gritted his teeth. "I have no desire to explain myself to you."

"Of course not," Faron hissed. "I'm just the one who figured out your not-so-little secret."

And holding for ransom?

This was not the kind of game Legolas was fond of playing. "What are you after, Faron?"

"Well done, by the way. You had quite the night, didn't you? Tell me, do you intend to tell her your name before or after the wedding? After I'd wager. She can't refuse once you've taken her to your bed and deflowered her-"

The knife was free from its scabbard before he'd even thought at it.

"(Easy, my lord)," Faron's neck twitching away from the mithril blade.

"(Speak this way again and I will not stop the blade in time)." He held his knife to the man's throat a moment longer, then replaced it to his back.

Faron rubbed his neck, perhaps to make sure it was still there, "I've heard legends of elves protecting their mates, but I never thought I'd ever lose my neck by one and she ain't even yours yet."

Legolas worked to loosen his jaw and all the other rigid muscles in his body, "You have been warned."

"You were more fun before I told you I knew your secret."

Scowling, Legolas urged Aglarebon forward to the head of the wagon, leaving Faron at the back.

After cooling down a few minutes, Legolas' clenched his fist.

Faron was indeed clever; by striking up Legolas' anger, he avoided answering his question.

It mattered little however. Faron seemed to be enjoying himself and while he did so, Legolas' secret seemed to be safe.

For now.

---

Days had passed since they'd last spoken any more than a few words in passing.

It stopped now.

Spotting her seated at one of the tables out under the ancient cherry tree and surrounded by crates of herbs, he took a long breath.

Then approached.

"May I sit down?" he asked cautiously.

Her head shot up with alarm, "Oh, Master Elf. Oh, course you may. Please. Please, sit down."

Before he'd even sat, she continued at haste, "I am so sorry I have been neglecting you so these past few days. Just with all the discontent going round, we, that is, most of the heads of Carthal have been trying to appease the unrest. So many folk are talking of leaving, or thinking of taking a stand to overthrow the mast-" she caught herself, "Well, that is to say, folk, they talk of these things but that it mostly where most their efforts lie. Talking."

Legolas however saw the guilt on her face and her eyes scan the nearby faces. He also heard the words; words spoken every day in his father's court. Words of discretion and censor. "I would be grateful," he stressed darkly, "if you would trust in me to speak without censor. I am no friend to Nestdôl."

The trepidation was still there on her face and Legolas muttered, "Shall I swear?"

She was taken aback, "Swear?"

"To my worthiness of your trust?"

Her face reddened, "I did not mean to imply you are unworthy of trust-"

"I am no spy here," he told her unequivocally, "for anyone. I swear nothing of your words will ever be repeated by my tongue or hand, upon my honour and life."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him. "Master Elf, please, I never meant-"

"Do I have your trust?" he pressed firmly.

Eryndes lowered her eyes, "I seem to always be causing you offense."

The lament in her voice grated him and he sighed, releasing the larger part of his temper. "Nonsense. I understand, I am different," he took a bunch of dried herbs for closer inspection, and didn't look at her when he said, "It cannot be easy to accept someone so very unlike yourself."

"Nay," she objected, pressing her hands on the table, "Nay. That is not true. You are different, true, but that only makes me want to know more about you." she stopped a moment, "You are brother to Aragorn as I am sister. This alone engrains my trust in you, as implacable as it is for Aragorn."

Taking time to replace the herbs back on the table, he finally conceded his pride not quite so wounded after all, "Then you will not speak to me with censor."

She closed her eyes then nodded. "What should I then say? Carthal is in a mess? You already know this." She opened her eyes to stare empathically at him, "The people are in uproar. Nestdôl's plan to make either Aragorn or I give in to him is turning the Dúnedain against each other. When we are not trying desperately to convince folk to wait for Aragorn's return, we meet with heads of families to dissuade them not to take the law into their own. The rangers stand by Aragorn but those with families are ready to leave the moment Aragorn turns complete control over to the masters. Meanwhile, Arradis keeps upstairs, too afraid to come down. And the women-folk migrate around the grounds in packs."

That struck him as odd. Come to think of it though, the women did seem to be more closely joined than normal. "Why?" he asked. "Surely there is no reason to be in fear."

"They figure once one of their rights has been taken away, so too the rest shall follow."

"Eryndes," he stressed, "Your brother would never allow that to happen."

She nodded, quickly, her face showing her distress, "I know he would never and I tell all who will listen. They people, they are deaf to reason. They do not want to listen."

"Keep trying," he soothed, "for when Aragorn returns, he will be glad for your efforts. So will your people."

The distress on her face eased, "Thank you . . . for listening."

Legolas took her gratitude with a nod. "There is," he took a breath, "something I would ask you."

"Anything," she assured with a smile to warm the coldest heart.

By the beat of his heart, he wanted to speak of his intentions; to ask her permission for courtship. Yet staring at her sweet face and devastating smile, the words he'd so carefully crafted during the long nights escaped him.

Instead, he conceded and reached into a pocket to pull out something he'd been carrying around for weeks. He handed it to her, "I took this off a dead Dúnedain I stumbled across in Angmar. I have been putting this off for some time and that is no respect to him."

Scanning the buckle, she said, "You are hoping someone will recognise it?"

"Not much to go on but there was," he hesitated, not sure she'd have the stomach for a lot of description, "nothing else useful to identify him."

"You are sure it was a him?"

"Pardon?"

"It can be hard to judge if the flesh is far too decomposed and only a skeleton remains."

He needn't have worried. Her chosen trade probably had her examining remains in all states of degradation and disease. "He was male. I have examined many bodies and can be relied upon to be accurate."

She accepted his word with an easy nod and put the buckle in her dress pocket, "I will ask around. Do you guess an age?"

"Living age or time in death?"

She blinked, "Ah, well. You perhaps have both?"

"My judgment for Dúnedain ages is as we both know limited. However he was of an older age from the greying of his hair and from the decaying flesh falling off his bones he was dead many weeks."

Eryndes considered. "How did he die?"

"He was killed by orcs. Tethered to the ground and left."

"No disease?"

Was she thinking plague? "From what I could see, there was no evidence of disease, however I am no expert in such things."

"Because elves do not suffer diseases?"

His brow rose, "Because I am no healer."

Her nose wrinkled, "You have never wanted to learn about medicine?"

A generous smile tightened around his eyes. "Just because I have the years does not mean I must learn all there is to know."

"Then," she grinned, "what do you know?"

"I know nothing of herbs," he tossed a small bundle onto the table. "I know field dressing, affixing splints," he thought further, "anatomy."

"Anatomy?" she picked up the bundle he'd thrown and set it back where it came from.

"You are surprised?" he took another bunch, gave it a sniff then tossed it back. "How is a warrior expected to kill something if he does not know where to stick in the knife?"

Eryndes reached over and again put the herbs back, "I study life to preserve it and you to take it."

"I take to preserve the life of others," he picked up another bundle of herb, just to see if it would annoy her.

She reached over and plucked it out of his hand, "And you know of nothing else?"

He gave her a patient stare. She was attempting to poke him for information and rather poorly. "I was educated as most elves are; language, mathematics, history, military stratagem, hitting people with sharpened rods of steel," he enjoyed her unimpressed glower at his tease. "I am also thoroughly disciplined in diplomacy and politics, commerce, and governance," his voice was bitter, like he had eaten something awful. Again.

"With such knowledge couldn't you serve as an adviser to a king?"

He just about choked. "My lord rarely requests council," he scowled, tossing another herb down on the table. "If on the rare occasion he did, he would rather listen to grasshoppers than I."

Finishing his little rant, he saw the quiet steadiness to her gaze, the slow building smile on her lips.

"Besides," he cleared his throat, "I would rather drink the blood of an orc than be subjected to endless days held captive in his court."

Reaching over, she returned the herb to its place, "Why would a grasshoppers opinion be more valid than yours? Does he not like you?"

He grimaced, "He does like me."

"Maybe he resents how you liken his court to a prison."

The utter truth of her unknowing words brought a chuckle from his throat, "Perhaps that is so."

"Aragorn said you are like a commander?" she asked.

He hesitated, his expression kept light but he felt cautious, "I am a commander, yes."

"Commanders have no love for arts or music?"

"I tried," he answered truthfully, "for a while but was completely without aptitude and so begged my father to release me from instruction."

With a mischievous smirk, he reached for another herb-

Her hand landed on his with the lightest smack. "Master Elf-"

"That is I," his face brimming with his best smile of innocence.

Whatever she would have said, he never got to hear. A commotion started from round the back of the manor, down near the bathhouse.

"Another altercation?" Eryndes sighed warily, "Will they never tire of it?"

The shouting grew louder.

She started to get up, "We should intervene or someone is going to be hurt."

Getting to his feet, Legolas heard the first punch being delivered. "Eryndes? Remain here."

When he heard no reply, he turned just as she darted off-

-In the direction of the fighting. With a sharp growl, he swore foully and tore after her.

What was it with this foolish woman and her foolish need to go running towards danger? Most unable to defend themselves at least had the wisdom to run the other way.

His long, quick strides caught up to her easily as she rounded the corner. Taking a sure grasp around her waist, he yanked her out of the way just as a carelessly thrown stone flew passed her head.

When they, the able bodied Dúnedain and lone elf, broke up the fight and the instigators escorted to cool off with a forced dunk in the icy river, Legolas pulled Eryndes aside.

However, his stern words were met by a cheery "Thank you for saving me," and "Yes, you are right to scold me. I really should know better."

Contrite and grateful, and yet completely unfulfilling to his frustration.

Chastising a tree would've been more satisfying.