Chapter 5 Sweet Mystery
"What do you suppose it is they laugh about?" Rumil asked curiously, leaning out over the branch.
"Shoes and gowns," Orophin replied sagely, tilting his head to the side just a bit as he watched the pair of elleths chatting and giggling amiably as they waited outside the smithy. A leer curled the corner of his lips as Meril tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. "They can spend any amount of time giggling over shoes and gowns."
"She is so beautiful," Rumil said dreamily. Across the glade Aduial let out a silvery laugh and the warden sighed heavily.
"Get over her brother," Orophin advised with an amused expression. "Aduial would not even throw you in the Nimrodel if your hair were on fire."
"You know so much," Rumil said sourly. "I've as much chance as the next elf."
"With that I agree," Orophin nodded.
"Good," his brother snapped.
"For the next elf hasn't the faintest chance to charm the lady," the elder answered, easily dodging the boot that kicked out at him.
"What is it to you whom I chose to grace with my affections?" Rumil glowered, "you have never cared before."
"I care because you grow too fond of what you cannot have," Orophin replied crossly, his brow furrowing in a scowl.
"Are you talking of me or of Haldir?" Rumil shot back.
"You can pretend stupidity if you like but you and I both know what the return of Aragorn means." his brother ground out through gritted teeth.
"Haldir is not going to fade!" Rumil insisted, his voice rising in panic. Orophin reached out and cuffed him in the arm as the pair of elleths in the glade glanced around curiously.
"No, I am sure he will simply dismiss his infatuation with a wave of his hand," Orophin spat out sarcastically. "It is not as if he has loved her for centuries." Rumil opened his mouth as if to reply and then quickly snapped it shut. He stared back at his brother almost horrified. Orophin closed his eyes, trying to blot out the wounded expression on his youngest brother's face.
"Rumil, please, give her up," he begged, rubbing his forehead. "I cannot lose you both."
"He can not fade," Rumil insisted, more quietly this time, though his voice trembled a bit. Orophin opened his eyes to find his brother sprawled out on his back on the branch, his face hidden in the crook of his arm. The image twisted at his heart. He had Meril, but Rumil did not even remember their parents. Haldir had been the only Adar their youngest brother had ever known.
"It is out of our hands, Rumil," he sighed, shaking his head. He glanced down into the glade, a faint smirk returning to his lips as his wife's face broke in a glowing smile.
"Oro," there was something odd in Rumil's voice and he turned his head slowly to find his brother staring at him with a rather disturbing grin. "I have an idea."
"Please tell me it involves orcs... or trolls," Orophin pleaded warily. "Anything practical and safe, really. I am not so very particular."
"I know how we can keep Haldir from fading." he stated, his brother gave an involuntary shudder.
"We cannot kill Aragorn." Orophin reminded sternly "It would not work."
"We do not need to kill him," Rumil insisted with an obscene giggle. "We can let Arwen do that." Orophin stood to his feet on the branch, prodding his brother's boot with his toe.
"Get up," he insisted sternly.
"Where are we going?" Rumil asked curiously.
"To find a healer," Orophin replied. "You need one desperately."
"You are not listening," Rumil stated in frustration.
"That is because you have said nothing that makes sense." his brother answered.
"I know it is difficult," the younger snapped, gripping the front of his tunic. "but try to think. What would happen if, after all these years, Aragorn once more looked upon the fair Evenstar... and behaved like an orc." Orophin made a cringing face, shuddering slightly.
"Aye... I am a genius." Rumil smiled, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back on the branch.
"And how will we convince him to behave badly, genius?" Orophin asked with a scowl.
"He is mortal, Oro!" Rumil rolled his eyes, "They are clumsy and stupid by nature. We have only to uncover his faults and then magnify them in the presence of the lady."
"You make it sound so easy," Orophin stated dismally, slumping on the branch once more beside his brother.
"Of course it is easy!" Rumil replied with a vulgar grin. "what could be easier?"
"He looks less dead today," Haldir glanced up from his vigil at the sound of the small voice to find Laurelin standing in the doorway of his terrace, picking leaves from her golden hair.
"If that is your way of asking if he is better the answer 'yes' he is much improved today." Haldir replied with a smirk, he motioned her forward and she crept into the room, crawling into his lap and wriggling until she was comfortably settled against his chest. She stared at Aragorn in silence for a moment, her small head cocked to the side.
"He's not so very blue today either," she observed. "What color is he supposed to be?"
"A little darker than the color he is now," Haldir answered, struggling to hide his chuckle.
"When he's the right color can he come out and play?" Laurelin asked, craning her head to look up at the marchwarden.
"I am afraid it will be a long time before he is better enough to play, pen neth," Haldir stated.
"Going out to play makes me feel better," the elfling insisted. "I hate it when Aduial makes me stay in. She made me stay in two whole days when I fell out of the tree and hurt my arm. How did he get hurt?"
"I am not sure," the elf replied a bit uneasily. "I suppose we will have to ask him when he wakes."
"He must have fell a long way," the elfling stated, observing the bandages. "Aduial was really mad that I climbed so high. Aren't his ada and nana mad?"
"They are a very very long way from here." Haldir stated, smirking as the elfling wiggled off his lap and climbed onto the foot of the bed.
"As far away as my Nana and Ada?" she asked curiously.
"Not quite," Haldir felt a twisting inside. "It is far." The tiny elleth kneeling on the foot of his bed brought a painful stab to his chest. Aduial's adar, Idhrenor, had been the chief scribe of Lothlorien. It was not so very long ago that he had been terribly wounded in an orc attack while traveling to Imladris. Laurelin had been only an infant and her parents had faced the heartbreaking choice of what to do with their youngest child. In the end they had realized that there was hardly any chance that Idhrenor would survive the journey to Valinor and they had left the little one behind knowing that if their own fate was uncertain that at least their daughter would be safe. In some ways Haldir still felt responsible for all that had happened as he had been charged with the safety of the expedition.
"I bet he misses them," she said.
"I am sure they miss him too," Haldir agreed as the tiny elleth nodded.
"He's awfully big," the elfling stated, sizing up the unconscious mortal. "he must eat a lot more than a bunny."
"He is not a pet, pen neth," the elf sighed in exasperation, standing to his feet and stretching his weary muscles. "He is a friend. And do not touch him."
"Will he break?" she asked curiously, looking over her shoulder at the elf as he moved to the window.
"No, but he will not like it very much." Haldir replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed out over the terrace. Laurelin looked back at the mortal and cocking her head to the side, poked him gently in the ribs. She watched for any sign of movement other than the slow rise and fall of the his chest. She frowned in disappointment then checked to make sure Haldir was still not watching before edging the tiniest bit closer and brushing his beard with her fingers.
She drew her hand back as if she had been burned, gazing first at her fingers and then at the mortal. She had not expected his face to be so scratchy and her brow knitted as she leaned closer to examine his face.
Haldir rubbed his forehead, breathing in the fresh scents of the wood and the mallorn blossoms that stretched like a canopy over the terrace. Aragorn's fever had broken in the night but whether this was a good thing or simply a calm before the storm even Lady Galadriel could not say for certain. His wounds were still many and the poison could have damaged him beyond all repair. The situation was still desperate and he had watched the mortal all night and through the morning for some sign that Aragorn would return to them as they had always known him.
"He has a nice smile." Laurelin announced. Haldir turned to reply but stopped before he could utter a word, hurrying to the side of the bed.
"Aragorn?" the mortal's eyes were opened in the smallest slits, hazy and pain glazed, his brow furrowed in confusion as the tiny elfling stared into his eyes.
"I'd still rather had a bunny... he's scratchy!" a child's voice floated through his consciousness. The blurs of color around him flickered and a sudden stab of pain in his chest tore a groan from his lips. He struggled to pry his eyes open but the light was blinding.
The haze cleared to reveal the face of a child with vibrant green eyes, searching him with an expression of innocent curiosity. His mind felt as if it were wrapped in a blanket and he struggled to match those eyes to a memory. Anything that could tell him who he was and why he was here.
"Tho-ro-geh!" the child's voice squealed in delight as tiny feet pelted the marble floors. The captain of Gondor swept the child up in his arms with a laugh as tiny toddler arms wrapped around his neck.
"Aye, Boromir you are getting heavy!" Thorongil stated, bouncing the child as Denethor laughed.
"Thorongil." Denethor coaxed, tugging the child's shirt teasingly.
"Tho-ro-geh!" Boromir repeated grinning, his emerald eyes dancing with childish glee.
"Perhaps in another year," Thorongil laughed, shaking his head as Denethor held the door for them. "my lady, I believe I have found something that belongs to you."
"Lord Thorongil," The female voice was tinged with amusement. He bowed his head respectfully as a figure turned to them from the window. She was a beautiful woman, her lips curled in a delicate and mischievous smile, her sandy hair cascading over her shoulders in soft curls. "You ought to know, that particular item is claimed by my husband."
"Only when he is quiet and well behaved," Denethor corrected, wrapping his arms around her waist. "When he is shrieking he is yours, Findulias."
"How fitting that he should remind me of his father," she teased, kissing him lightly. "I shall not miss you when you are away."
"I am not going anywhere." Denethor stated sulkily, releasing his wife to slump dejectedly onto the couch. Thorongil let out a groan, sinking into one of the chairs and perching the giggling child on his lap.
"Do not get him started," the captain pleaded, "I have heard nothing else all afternoon."
"Then I will thank you for granting me a reprieve," Findulias replied with a bit of a smirk, taking the seat beside her husband. "I have heard nothing else all week."
"Dada!" Boromir wiggled out of the captain's lap, tearing across the sitting room to clamber into his father's arms. Denethor pulled the child close, giving him a gentle squeeze as the toddler laid his head on his shoulder, jamming his thumb in his mouth.
"Ah, peace and quiet," Findulias sighed happily, smiling as she brushed a lock of hair from her son's face.
"You mystify me my friend," Thorongil shook his head. "You have a new wife and a new son and the only thought you can get inside your head is to race off into battle like a foolish youth."
"Lord Thorongil if I did not know better I would swear you were jealous!" Findulias stated with a musical laugh.
"My lady, I am no fool." He replied, a serious frown knitting his brow "of course I am. I would have to be mad not to be jealous." She laughed outright, turing a flirty smirk on her husband who smiled back at her a bit foolishly.
"I am not sure he is as wise as he seems," Denethor observed, "I think it is only his silvery tongue that makes him seem so."
"I wonder what wickedness such a tongue might work on the heart of a lady?" Findulias asked her husband with a calculating look. "Surely there must be a courtier in Minas Tirith who could tame the heart of the Captain of Gondor."
"Aye, that is what you need," Denethor said with an almost evil grin. "a lovely maiden to addle your brain a bit."
"So that the lord Steward will find his advice less to his liking?" Findulias teased.
"It is worth a try," Denethor shrugged idly.
"I can not serve Gondor when my heart is elsewhere," Thorongil observed, a wane smile curling his lips.
"I believe that was the point I was trying to make." Denethor said to his wife. Findulias smiled, kissing him gently before turning back to the captain.
"You do not fool me, my lord," she said, giving him a calculating look. "Your heart is already elsewhere. Stolen away by someone you see as... unattainable."
"Oh, a palace intrigue," Denethor snickered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You had better hope her husband does not find out."
"She is not a lady of Gondor or lord Thorongil would not stay here," Findulias stated sagely, "He is far too noble to risk a lady's honor in such a way. No, not a lady of Gondor."
"Perhaps he left her behind in Rohan." Denethor suggested.
"It is enough that I have left her behind," Thorongil smiled sadly, standing to his feet. "And as there is no point in my going back we shall leave it at that."
"There are other women, my friend," Denethor said with a frown, handing his now sleeping son to his wife and standing to his feet.
"Are there?" the captain asked with searching eyes before glancing at Findulias. Denethor turned to look at his wife a moment, a pained expression forming in his own eyes.
"No, I suppose there are not," Denethor finally admitted.
"I leave in the morning, brother," Thorongil stated, grasping his arm affectionately before bowing. "My lady."
"Take care of yourself, Captain," She replied kindly. "And despite the romantic notions of my husband, there are other women."
"You would not say that if you had ever seen her, my lady," Thorongil answered with a smile.
"Pen neth, do not poke him!" the stern voice seemed familiar but he could not place it, nor could he see clearly enough to find its source. The innocent face seemed completely unperturbed.
"You look awful." she said, tilting her head to the side, a halo of light surrounding her golden hair
"And you look like one of the, vala" he murmured, earning a giggle "Am I dead?"
"Haldir says no." she answered, her cheeks flushed, "but you looked kind of dead yesterday."
"Haldir..." he knew that name, it floated at the very edge of his senses.
"Do not trouble yourself, Aragorn," A male voice answered, "You are still weak, rest."
"Which vala are you?" he whispered as he felt his grasp on consciousness slip. The face before him broke into a radiant smile her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Can I be the vala of strawberries?" she pleaded as he lost his battle with consciousness.
"What do you suppose it is they talk about while they hide in the trees?" Faeneth asked curiously as she peered out over the rail of the flet she was standing on. Some several feet below them she could see Rumil and Orophin lounging in the branches of one of the mallorn.
"Swords and violence," Silverin replied practically. "No mater how much they might discuss it nor for how many centuries males can always talk about swords and violence."
"He can talk about his sword with me any day," Faeneth said with a wicked smirk. Her friend turned to face her with an odd look.
"Honestly Silverin," She rolled her eyes. "He is positively delicious, what is wrong with you?"
"Perhaps I do not find his escapades as amusing as you do," the silvery haired elleth sighed, shaking her head.
"You know, dear," Faeneth's brow creased. "If I did not know better I would swear some roguish elf had broken your heart."
"And what do you mean by that?" Silverin asked a curious frown on her own face.
"I mean you keep no particular company," Faeneth stated, "You are never to be found playing lovers games nor trysting in the lady's garden. To my knowledge you have never stolen so much as a kiss. And yet when the subject of attractive and eligible elves comes up you sound very much like a jilted lover."
"It shows what you know," Silverin sniffed. "For your information I have stolen a kiss."
"From who?" Faeneth demanded, struggling to suppress her giggle.
"If you must know... Orophin." She glanced over at her friend's expression of sheer disbelief. "It was on his begetting day... the year Haldir got him the horse, do you remember?"
"Silverin!" Faeneth blurted out. "We were elflings!"
"You never specified an age restriction." her friend replied.
"You can not count Orophin regardless of his age." Faeneth insisted "he was the sort of elf that would have gladly kissed a troll if you put it in a dress."
"I shall remind you of that if you should ever manage to kiss Rumil," Silverin promised, hiding her smirk.
"Fair enough," Faeneth sighed, shaking her head as she continued to stare at the elf, shrouded in the trees below them.
"Why is it you want him any way?" Silverin asked with a bit of a curious look.
"I know you do not think he is any sort of prize," Faeneth replied, leaning on the rail with a frown. "But beneath all of the fraternizing and foolishness there is a heart of bravery and loyalty. He is kind and compassionate and he can even be brilliant at moments. I know it does not make any sense, but I know what I feel."
"Aye," Silverin rubbed her arm affectionately. "That much I understand."
Dinendal stretched out over the side of the bridge with a sigh, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Faeneth on the flet below him. He felt a strange twisting in his chest as she laughed at something Silverin said to her. She was utterly glorious, powerful, full of spirit.
Completely disinterested in him.
"I wonder what it is they giggle about," he murmured to himself with another heart heavy sigh. He was suddenly aware that he was no longer alone and he straightened, turning quickly to find lady Galadriel standing on the bridge beside him.
"My... my lady," he stammered nervously, bowing his head in respect. The Lady of Light only peered over the rail.
"Believe me when I tell you, warden," she stated with a bit of a smirk. "you would be much happier not knowing."
Author's note : I didn't have a chance to say this properly when I posted the last chapter so I'm taking the time to do it now. I owe a great deal of thanks and a personal debt to someone I know only as Purrfect10minus9. Several weeks ago a less than scruplous individual on decided to harvest the prologue of A tangled Web and publish it as their own. Now I will not play naive, I was well aware from the begining that even if my work wasn't well received that I ran a real risk of plaigerism. What I wasn't prepared for was how very traumatic this experience was. I thought it would be no different than having any possession stolen but it really felt much more as if someone had hurt one of my dogs who are like my babies. Worst of all was the knowledge that I might never have known about it if it hadn't been for the kindness of an individual I didn't even know. Purrfect10minus9 recognized my story and informed me right away so that I was able to take action. I would like to encourage all of you, if you suspect plaigerism please, don't hesitate to contact the orignal author. You'll be doing a truly wonderful thing.
Grumpy123 - I'd say the chances are about as good as keeping hungry mice out of nana's lingiere drawer. LOL
Oath of Feanor - I know I'm taking forever on this one. Try to bear with me I've yet to start a story and not finish it!
Destiny'sPromise - Thanks... and welcome to the madness!