7. The Method in it

"It is important for the astute elf to understand the finer points of the species in any form of negotiation involving men." Rumil read from the tome which, despite it's obvious age and slight layering of dust, looked to be in new condition. Indeed, the binding did not even appear to have been properly broken, a situation the warden was now rectifying as he sat astride the tree branch, his feet dangling over the flet below.

"What is this mad book you were so insistent in stealing?" Dinendal asked, a disgruntled expression marring his otherwise handsome face as he sat on a bench below Rumil, his arms folded over his chest.

"Laws and Customs of the Edain," his friend answered, holding it up so that the other warden could see. "Lord Celeborn made me write an essay on it when I was an elfling."

"It does not look as if anyone has ever read it," Dinendal answered, his frown deepening.

"He did not say he read it," Orophin stated from his spot reclining languidly in the middle of the flet. "He said he wrote an essay."

"I wish now I had actually read it," Rumil declared with a sour expression. "Why did lord Celeborn never assign it to you?"

"Because he entertained no ideas of ever making an advisor of me," his brother replied proudly. "You, he felt, might still be young enough to mold in his own image and turn into a noble."

"Really?" Rumil asked in surprise. His brother nodded a bit smugly. "Rhach."

"If you had attended to your studies you might have earned a leisurely profession with a desk and a plethora of free time." Orophin mocked.

"Now I really wish I had read the book." Rumil stated bitterly, turning the page.

"I am curious as to why your foster father never tried to make a noble of you?" Dinendal asked, his lips almost curling in a smirk.

"Because I am completely hopeless," Orophin stated proudly.

"Aye with that I would agree," his friend nodded.

"Listen to this!" Rumil interrupted excitedly, "Mortals, in general, lack many abilities that place them at a disadvantage. They possess a very limited sense of smell and suffer from poor vision. Indeed, some can hardly see at all and still others have no sight whatsoever, a condition referred to as 'blindness'."

"That is perfectly mad," Dinendal snorted derisively. "How would they be able to function at all if they could not see?"

"I wonder if Aragorn suffers from this 'blindness'." Rumil mused.

"Do not be a dolt," Orophin snapped, "he would not be able to fight orcs if he could see nothing."

"Judging from his condition when he appeared on our borders it would seem a valid question," Dinendal pointed out.

"The Edain also lack an appropriate sense of hearing which, in most cases, diminishes further as they age," Rumil continued to read as if he could not hear them. "It is not unknown for the race of men to lack the ability to hear at all."

"How has their kind spread so far across these lands?" Dinendal asked in wonderment.

"Manwe alone knows," Orophin shook his head.

"I have an idea," Rumil's lips had begun to curl in an odd smirk, his eyebrows knitting together in a rather evil expression.

"You know," Dinendal whispered, leaning closer to Orophin. "I find that slightly disturbing."

"Then you are an idiot," Orophin answered, earning a rather affronted scowl from the other warden before he added. "Because any elf with sense would be positively terrified."

"Cousin, you look as if you have reached the end of your tether." Silverin stated, shaking her head as she approached Meril on the sloping path that led from the market. Meril carried a large basket slung over one arm, it's contents draped in a scarf. The same arm was braced against one of the great Mallorn trees while with the other she struggled to reach the lace of her boot which had snapped free.

"If anything else should go wrong today I swear I shall pack my things and return to Imladris," Her cousin declared, blowing a loose lock of hair from her eyes. "And Orophin may join me if he chooses."

"Here give me that," Silverin reached to take the basket from her with a chuckle. She let out a grunt of surprise as Meril relinquished her hold on it with a heartfelt thank you. It felt as if it were full of bricks and she frowned at it as the other elleth propped her foot against the trunk of the tree, relacing her boot.

"Dearest what do you have in here?" Silverin asked in surprise, peering at the scarf with a more suspicious expression.

"Oh," Meril looked suddenly uncomfortable, her attention focusing on her boot laces. She shrugged her shoulders. "Just a few things Haldir asked me to fetch for him when I had a chance." Silivren's lips curled up in an amused smirk.

"This would not have anything to do with his 'friend' would it?" She asked, remembering her conversation the day before with Aduial and her sister. It would be just like Haldir to wish for no one to know he had a baby fox in his talan.

"You know?" Meril asked, gaping at her in shock. Her foot slid slowly down the trunk until she had gained her balance again. "Silverin, who told you?"

"Laurelin let slip while we were picking berries," she shrugged elegantly, her smile broadening a bit. "You know how she is. The little imp cannot keep a secret to save her life."

"Sweet Elbereth!" Meril groaned in frustration, banging her head lightly against the trunk of the tree. "The whole wood will know in another day."

"Well it was unrealistic for him to think he could keep it quiet at all," her cousin stated, "And it was unfair of him to drag you into it with him. You've more than enough responsibilities yourself."

"We'd only thought to keep him hidden until his injuries had healed," Meril answered, slumping against the tree.

"I fail to see how that would improve the situation," Silverin almost laughed. "Then he will be up running around the wood and one can only imagine the chaos that will cause."

"I had pointed that out to him," Her cousin replied, rubbing her forehead with a scowl.

"One wonders if he thinks his actions out at all," Silverin frowned. She could not even begin to fathom the state of the Golden Wood with a half tame fox pup darting in and out of every window. One thing was certain, there would be a dark reckoning when the Lord and Lady found out.

"How is it I get myself into these things?" Meril sighed miserably.

"What you need is some time to yourself," Silverin soothed, rubbing her arm affectionately. "You should take yourself off to the bath house and relax for a bit. You look as if you are about to lose your wits."

"I can not," Her cousin stated flatly. "I have to take this to Haldir and then I am training some new recruits." She met Silivren's gaze, her brow furrowing a moment as her lips curled. Now that she knew their secret there was really no reason to keep her away from Haldir's talan. And Meril could think of one very good reason to keep her near Haldir.

"You do not even need to ask," Silverin shook her head ruefully. "You go on to the bath houses and I shall deliver this."

"Are you sure you do not mind?" Meril asked, feeling the slightest bit guilty.

"Go on," Silverin waved her down the path with a giggle. "I will tend to Haldir."

"Yes you do that," Meril murmured under her breath as she turned toward the bath houses, a wolfish grin curling her lips. "You tend to Haldir."

"Have a care now," The tranquil female voice seemed to almost hover around him. He drew a shuddering breath, wincing against the pain as her slender arm slipped around his back, her soft feminine touch belying the strength with which she drew him to sit up.

"I have seen mortals in worse condition." She stated with an appraising look.

"The ones I have seen in worse condition have all been dead." Aragorn replied, forcing a smile at his benefactor.

"You will note that the Lady did not stipulate that they were alive," Haldir interjected, a smile curling his own lips as Galadriel gave him a rather perturbed glare.

"For the sake of his morale I had thought it better not to mention that part," she answered with a frown. There was, however, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she settled on the edge of the bed beside him.

"Breathe deep," she instructed, placing a hand on his ribs. Aragorn closed his eyes, drawing in a breath and almost immediately groaning in pain. Her slender hand ghosted over his chest, finally hovering over a single spot as Haldir hurried to the other side of the bed to support the mortal's shoulders.

"Yes, I can feel it now," Galadriel nodded. "This break has not mended as it should." She paused a moment, her hand brushing over the spot as light as a dried leaf.

"It is an old injury, not yet properly healed and then reinflicted," Her lips curved in an amused smile at the perplexed expression on the mortal's face. "If you are going to break your ribs the very least you can do is give them a chance to knit before you go out and break them once more."

"What were you doing that you broke them in the first place?" Haldir asked, shaking his head. The expression of boyish embarrassment seemed to slip from Aragorn's face, his brow furrowing as he dove once more into the murky waters of his memory.

Silver stars filled the night sky like crystalline jewels, made all the brighter for there was no moon this night. Thorongil held his breath, clinging to the mooring line, sea water running from his hair in rivulets. The corner of a black sail, worked loosed from it's riggings, flapped overhead, caught by a breeze. A swell crested, pitching the ship, jerking the line tight and he dug his fingers into the rough rope.

On the deck above he could still here the muted voices of Corsair's and below the frustrated hiss of one of his men scrambling to keep his hold on the lines. If even one of them fell to the water it would be the end of all of them.

The voices passed on and he heard the unmistakable sound of the hatch slamming shut behind them. He breathed a small sigh of relief, glancing down the rope at one of his lieutenants.

He was a young man, hardly more than a boy and his stubbled face gazed back up at his captain with the slightest hint of trepidation. Thorongil gave him a wink and glanced over some yards away where two more of his men had already made the deck of the nearest boat.

He scrambled up the line like a water rat, ignoring the harsh hemp that cut into his hands. He gained the deck and heaved himself over the rail on silent feet, reaching back to pull up the young officer. The lad gave him an almost impish grin before drawing his knife and cutting lose the line they had just scrambled up.

Thorongil gripped his shoulder before treading the few feet to the shrouds, and hoisting himself up, climbing like a spider across a web to the nearest yardarm. He drew his knife from his belt, the sharp steel cutting through the stays as if they were made of wool. He chanced to glance down and observed that the Lieutenant had already freed all the moorings and was now disabling the rudder chain. The excitement of their mission painting a wide grin on his face. Thorongil shook his head with a smirk, he had one thing left to do and with another deep breath he continued on toward the crows nest.

It took him only a moment to cut through the Downhaulers and the black sail billowed out, catching the night breeze. He gripped the mast, letting the salt air sting his skin. It was only a moment.

He heard the creaking of the hatch, and a figure emerged from below deck. A vile smile curled the lips of the Corsair as he spotted the Lieutenant who was cutting free the last sail line, oblivious to his danger.

Across the harbor other ships were losing free of their moorings, their sales unfurled. It would take moments for the chaos to begin but they needed every second. Without a thought the Captain caught the corner of his cloak, gripping a lose line that flapped against the mast. He took a deep breath and jumped.

The deck raced toward him at lightening speed, the rope tearing at his palms through his cloak. His feet connected with the back of the pirate's head and he slammed against the deck, his ribs cracking with the force of the blow as the air rushed from his lungs.

"Captain!" the young officer hissed through clenched teeth, his face white as a sheet as he glanced at the battered corsair. The man lay sprawled on the deck, a deep gash across his forehead, his shattered lantern still clutched in his grubby hand. It's oil spilled out across the deck, the fire catching a lose line and filling the air with the acrid smell of burning hemp.

"Time to go," Thorongil gasped out, stifling a groan as the Lieutenant hauled him to his feet.

"You're lucky not to be making a longer journey by my estimation, sir," the Lieutenant answered, helping him to the rail. "How do you expect to swim?" Thorongil only took a ragged breath as he hauled himself over the rail with a pained groan.

"I'll manage" he answered.

"He still cannot remember how he came to us in this sorry state?" Galadriel asked, a frown marring her lovely visage. Haldir shook his head.

"He has been unable to tell me, though well he seems to remember his childhood in Imladris." The Marchwarden replied, his eyes showing the concern his even voice masked. It could not be a good sign.

"Do you recall what you might have done to sustain this injury?" Galadriel asked, her searching gaze delving into the mortal's mind. Aragorn only smiled, his rather embarrassed expression returning.

"Something that seemed to be a wise choice at the time." he answered.

"Aduial, what is it elves want?" Faeneth's brow creased in a frown as she brushed the dust of the ranges from her backside.

"Why should you ask me?" the Sentinel questioned with a snort of amusement, brandishing her sword. "Or is this some tactic to distract me?"

"I could blindfold you and you would still win," Faeneth answered grudgingly, giving her own sword a light swish. "And I am asking you because you have no end of elves pursuing you."

"Oh yes, I have my choice of husbands," She rolled her eyes.

"You do!" the courier insisted, "the only elves who do not following after you like a pony on a harness are the ones who have already wed."

"Such a romantic thought," Aduial replied, batting her eyelashes playfully. "Just what a lady wants, an elf on a string."

"Well some of us could not even snare one with rope," Faeneth sulked, holding her sword at the ready. Her friend paused, giving her a more sympathetic look.

"Faeneth?" she prodded gently.

"I do not understand them at all," the courier answered in miserable exasperation, lowering her sword. "I have tried everything I can think to gain Rumil's attention. I make it a point to be on the ranges whenever he is here, I asked him to spar with me, I even sharpened his knives for him. For all my effort he does not even appear to notice I exist!"

"Oh dear one," Aduial sighed, lowering her sword to slip an arm around the other elleth's shoulders. "To be honest I am not sure I understand him so very well myself."

"He seems rather taken with you," Faeneth sniffed dejectedly.

"Aye, that is the part I do not understand," she conceded.

"You are my friend, you would be honest with me would you not?" Faeneth asked almost desperately.

"Of course dear," Aduial promised.

"Have I no charms at all?" she questioned, her lovely face crinkling in worry.

"Well, to be honest," Aduial replied hesitantly. "They can be a bit hard to see under all the leather armor and folded steel. Do you even own a gown, dearest?"

"One," Faeneth replied, pausing to reflect a moment. "I think."

"Elves can be a bit odd," Aduial explained. "They are forever saying one thing and then doing another. If you ask any one of them what they want they will readily say a lady who share's their interests. And in the very next moment they are chasing after some silly wisp of silk who would not have the faintest notion which end of a bow the arrow went on." Faeneth laughed at this, her dower expression melting into a hopeful smile.

"I suppose a gown wouldn't hurt," she admitted. Aduial gave her a cheeky grin.

"And if you have it cut low enough," the sentinel stated. "I can guarantee he will notice."

Silverin paused at the edge of the flet, her heart skipping a beat. There he was, a mere handful of yards away on his terrace. She let the heavy basket come to rest on the flet, leaning against the rail.

She was safe here for she knew there was only the smallest chance that he would spot her. And even if he did she would hardly look out of place. A number of elves were out, enjoying the warmth of the sun as they took their noon meal. A quick turn of her head and he would not even catch her staring.

She allowed the familiar giddy feeling to twist her insides as she watched him, a feeling she would all too soon have to rein in and hide away. These were the only moments she allowed herself. The ones where her secret remained safe.

She had shed frustrated tears on his account more than once. But that had been many years ago. Now she could only sigh in resignation. She had thought that with the passage of enough time he might finally take some notice of her but this had turned out to be folly and as the long years had marched on it had become increasing clear that it was no more than fantasy.

With a heart heavy sigh she scooped up the basket. She had promises to keep and she would not be keeping them if she stood here making doe eyes like a silly young fool. There was no sense in dwelling on what was so clearly out of reach.

Rhach - Curses (damn)

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Author's Note: I did promise to try and do better with the updates! It's better though admitedly not by a lot. I'll try to get the next post out sooner. -blush- Elf huggles to everyone who reviewed!!