An Old Story
Andixa
[Minor edits and update to new author name.]
Disclaimer: Belongs to the Tolkien estate, or to whomever they've given the rights.
Chapter Two follows the events of Gandalf's story. If anything, it's even cheesier than Chapter One. Enjoy!
o
"Father! Father, we've lost him! Come quickly! Father!"
Elrond peered over the rail of the balcony next to this throne. His son was down below, jumping up and down and waving his arms in excitement. He raised an eyebrow.
"Who did you loose, Elrohir?"
"The prince! The little prince of Mirkwood. We were watching him, but Elladan went to fetch dinner, and Mithrandir's arrival distracted me. I was gone but a minute, and I told him not to leave the room, but he was gone when I returned. Mithrandir has brought news of many orcs inhabiting the area around Rivendell recently. I'm very worried about the young prince – he wandered from the east hall, between the library and the forest edge."
"I saw him but once when the party arrived - he is barely a toddler. He could not have gotten very far."
"Aye, father, but quite energetic. He could very well be halfway to Mirkwood by now."
Well, any excuse to get out of trade negotiations on a gorgeous summer afternoon; Elrond addressed his delegates. "Please excuse me, my friends, but there is a matter of great importance to which I must attend. Glorfindel, send out a search party for Prince... Legolas, was it? And give word to the boarder patrols that he may be in or near the woods."
Glorfindel bowed and walked briskly from the room.
Elrond nodded to his visitors before bracing one arm on the rail and hopping over it, off the balcony, somehow managing to keep his robes from billowing up like sails. He landed ten feet down, coming to stand next to his son. "Where is Elladan?"
"He is searching the palace halls we played in earlier. But I worry Legolas may have made his way into the library archives, if not into the forest. I would get lost myself if I searched for him down in all those moldy old stacks of books."
"Then I will go, after I notify the Prince's father. You would do well to search the gardens, especially the trees. He's a Mirkwood elf, and will feel most at home in the trees even as young as he is."
Elrohir grinned in relief - his father was not too angry with him - and ran off towards the gardens. Elrond shook his head in amusement and headed for the treasury to find Legolas's father.
o
King Thranduil of Mirkwood was sitting at a table inspecting dwarvish gems when Elrond entered the room. Almost twenty elves sat around him, all craftsmen of great talent and reputation. Five dwarves sat across the table from the elves, watching the inspections with puffed chests.
"Thranduil. I must talk to you. It involves your son, he may be in danger."
"Lord Elrond? I'm certain you have good reason to come barging in like this, but the matter must wait. I will see to my son when I have finished."
The light tone Thranduil took on the matter struck Elrond in precisely the wrong way, and the elven king found himself nose-to-nose with a glowering peredhil.
"You'll see to it now! Your son has gone missing. You know the dangers that lay outside the borders of Rivendell, and the dangers even inside of Rivendell for such a young child."
Thranduil smoothed the wrinkles in his tunic.
"He will be fine for a few hours, while I finish inspections. Mirkwood is far more dangerous than Rivendell."
"You will look after your son now, Thranduil!" he hissed.
"I will see to him later!"
The king rolled his eyes, and suddenly Elrond had him by the collar of his fine tunic and hauled him forward. Before he could so much as blink, Elrond growled and drew his fist back, punching Thranduil square in the face. Uncaring of his completely un-elven behavior, he dropped Thranduil to the ground and snarled in disgust.
Elrond turned in an indignant swirl of expensive robes and left the room, heading for the archives, and leaving several stunned elves (and a few shell-shocked dwarves) in his wake.
o
Elrond was furious. He stormed down the hall, muttering to himself in his rage, robes and hair swishing violently.
"See to him later. See to him later! After he's finished. What elf would choose dwarvish trinkets over his own son. That greed will be the downfall of Mirkwood."
He reached the entrance to the basement archives just as the scholars finished putting out the torches for the night. With few windows, the archives needed lighting even to be used during the day. They were almost impossible to access comfortably at night.
Elrond cursed to himself and snatched a lantern off a nearby shelf. Pulling up his robes, he walked down the steps of the archive halls and into darkness.
"Legolas? Are you down here, child?"
His shouts echoed through the maze-like halls, dulled by the thousands of books surrounding him. No reply came, so he trudged on.
After a while, it became apparent that Legolas was not there. He turned to go down a hallway that would lead him out of the archive, when a small sound caught his attention. A scholar working late - or mice, perhaps? He listened closely and heard it again: sniffling, coming from some distance away.
"Legolas? Legolas, can you tell me where you are?"
Elrond tilted his head back, trying to pinpoint the location of the crying elf.
He knew the archives like the back of his hand, and could navigate even by the light of a single lantern. He swept down the corridors, taking two right turns and a left, and - yes, there was the boy, curled up in a corner near the Second Age birth records.
Elrond swept the young elf into his arms, careful of the hot lantern in his hand. Barely three by human standards, small and shivering from fear and cold and face streaked with tears, the elf clung to his savior.
Elrond smiled down at the delicate boy, who was quickly falling asleep now that help had arrived - and shivering in the cold basement air. Healer's instincts kicked in, and he quickly pulled the wide cloth belt from about his waist, shook it with one hand to unravel it, and wrapped it as a blanket around the young elf.
Legolas's shivers began to die away and he drifted into a healthier sleep. Arms came up to wrap around Elrond's neck and tangle in his dark hair.
Elrond made his way out of the archive's halls, not at all minding the wet face against his chest or the little hands clutching his hair.
o
Elrond drew curious glances from every citizen of Rivendell as he passed by. His fine robes were wrinkled and loose, and he held an unfamiliar young elf against his chest. The expression of fatherly adoration on Elrond's face hadn't been seen since his own children were that small.
As he passed the great garden next to the palace, he saw one of his twin sons in a tree.
"Elrohir! I've found him. Come down from there."
The prince of Rivendell jumped from the tree and ran to embrace both Legolas and his father. "Oh, thank the Valar. He's safe."
Elrond leaned into the embrace, smoothing his son's hair in a comforting gesture. His position was uncomfortable, supporting Legolas with one arm and holding his rather tall son up with the other, but he was content.
Elladan came suddenly to his other side and wriggled under his father's arm. "I saw you from a balcony. Is he alright?"
"He's fine. He exhausted himself down in the archives, crying his little eyes out." Elrond re-adjusted the little elf in his arms, and the twins released him.
"Father, if you wish to go back to your council we will put Legolas to bed."
Nodding, Elrond extracted Legolas from his robes. Or, at least, he tried to. As Elladan attempted to pull him away, Legolas wailed and anchored himself to the closest part of his savior: the hair.
"Ai ai ai! My hair! That hurts!" He grabbed at the little hands in his hair, trying to get them to release without hurting either himself or the young prince. "Let go, it's alright, let go. Elladan won't take you away."
Large blue eyes peered at Elrond, aware and awake for the first time since Legolas had been found.
"You may stay with me while I meet with the visiting dwarves, if you wish. But you must stop pulling my hair."
The little boy smiled brightly and stopped pulling - but kept a firm grasp on the dark hair. Rolling his eyes at his sons, who were grinning at his predicament, Elrond smoothed his hair down.
"I think you have a new friend, father."
o
"Lord Elrond! We did not know you had such a jewel in your house. Had we known, we would have brought pearls and sapphires to shower the child-"
"Enough, enough, my dear dwarf. He is not mine, though it seems that he has adopted me. His name is Legolas; he is Thranduil's son."
Legolas perked up at the sound of his name, and turned around in Elrond's arms to peer at the dwarves.
o
Hours later, Elrond was coaxing the young elf awake. The meeting had run long past Legolas's bedtime, and it was now closer to that of Elrond himself. "Come, little Mirkwood. We must return you to your father."
"Nay." Elrond looked up to see Glorfindel. "Thranduil is asleep, or at least he is locked in his room wishing to be left alone."
Elrond tried not to smile. "Well, then. It has been a long time since I have put a child to bed, my friend. I would do so gladly. Will you join me?"
"Of course."
Elrond stood and sat the child on his hip, leading Glorfindel down the halls to the guest rooms at a lazy pace.
Legolas must have awoken halfway there, for when Elrond looked over his shoulder to see his friend, he found Glorfindel making strange faces at his back. Glorfindel grinned brazenly when the child let out a peal of laughter.
"Really, Glorfindel. It's a wonder all Mirkwood elves don't think us buffoons." The arch of a rather sarcastic eyebrow was all the reply he got. They continued on.
When they finally reached a suitable guest room, Elrond entered with more than a little regret. He would miss the quiet giggling next to his ear on the walk back to his own chambers.
"Certainly you won't leave him here alone all night?"
"No, Glorfindel. I will stay until he falls asleep, and then send for his nanny. She should be resting in a nearby room, if I'm not mistaken." Elrond lowered the sleeping boy onto the bed and tucked him in. He had to stretch himself out on his side on the bed, because the boy again refused to loosen his hands from Elrond's hair.
Glorfindel smoothed the sheets and placed a kiss on the prince's forehead before he moved to the door. "I must be off to bother your counselors. Good night, little prince. Sleep well." A toothy grin, and he was gone.
Elrond lay next to the prince for a very short while before his eyes glazed over in sleep. He smiled indulgently as he extracted himself from the bed and the child.
The fingers clutching his robe loosened easily enough, but the hand wrapped in black silk hair was another matter. Every little tug was painful, and the fingers were so wrapped up that Elrond would need to wake the child or surrender a rather large lock of hair to be free of the hold.
"Oh, little elf, what am I to do with you?"
He fell back onto the bed, the long day weighing so heavily on him that he really didn't care where he slept. Within a few short minutes, he was as sound asleep at the youngster at his side.