XI
Tales from Doriath
Merilin sat by the hearth in her father's room and watched the fire-light leap over her unsheathed sword. It entranced her, and she let it do so. It made the pounding of her heart feel like battle drums and it steadied her shivering fingers. The sword was heavy in her hands, but she liked the way her leather gloves creaked when she closed her fingers around the hilt.
It was snowing again. The fire was hissing at some wind up in the chimney, and there was fog on the windows. She rose, sheathed her sword, and walked over. Greenwood was swept in a white winter coat. The rustle of naked branches had replaced the singing of leaves.
Merilin breathed on the glass and put her fingers to the fog. She drew a crown, an ornate silver crown like the one the orcs had stolen from her father.
"They're sparring", she said. "Down at the courtyard. Not the guards - the warriors, the ones that fought in the Last Alliance. Well, not all of them. They've taken up their weapons again."
She had watched them the day before, the elves of the last war, in their old-fashioned armour and their newly sharpened swords. She had seen them beat each other mercilessly on the practise field because they knew real war was nothing like the orderly sparring bouts of the guards.
"They say we are at war", she said and watched the crown fade away with the fog. "If the elves that survived the Dagorlad say we are at war, who can speak against them?"
Father did not move. If he heard her, somewhere deep in his dark dreams, he gave no sign of it. Merilin walked over to him and reached for his cold hands.
"I don't mean to worry you. It is snowing outside, did you know? The children are so happy. I must leave you now but when I come back... then we'll make garlands together for Midwinter, like we did last year, do you remember? We sat in the Hall of Trees and we'd both had a bit too much of that wine from the south and you said..." She trailed off. She couldn't remember what he'd said, if he had said anything important at all. She just wanted - she just wanted him to hear her.
But he was still and quiet, so quiet she had to lean over his chest and listen for his breathing. He was so pale. His skin was as grey as ashes, and there was no silver in his hair. Sometimes it was as though he was about to wake up, but just as soon he was gone again.
Merilin stood up and clasped the sword-belt over her fur-trimmed winter coat. Then she picked her fox up from where it slept on the hearth skin and put it on the bed. The fox refused to go anywhere near father's injured shoulder, but she curled up on his other side and laid her furry head on his chest.
"Keep him warm", Merilin told her. "Keep him warm and safe until I'm back."
She took her rucksack and water-skin and left, closing the door and hurrying down the stair without another glance back.
When she came down to the Hall of Trees Duneirien stood there with her archers and spear-elves clad in dark fur and leathers. Brand stood with her, he and his elves all in chain mail, with swords at their sides and shields at their backs. They had been told to flee rather than fight the orcs if it came to that, but they must be prepared. Mother stood there too, and Radagast, who would ride with them to the shadow-wood before he headed onward to Rivendell.
Merilin looked over the hunters and guards and she saw their fear, but also their resolve. That made her swallow her own fear. There was no way to go now but forward, into the shadow-wood. If that meant into the arms of the orcs, then so be it.
"Is everyone ready?"
Duneirien nodded, and Brand said: "We are, my lady."
"Then we should leave at once. The elves by the Forest Road need us. But remember..." She hesitated. Before her brothers left for Rivendell, Beren had gathered the travellers and talked to them about their journey, about the challenges they would meet and how they must beat them together. It had been important for them, she knew. The travellers had been no more experienced than her warriors.
Her warriors. When she looked over their faces, saw the determination in their eyes, her heart lifted. She raised her voice so they would know to listen. "Remember this. All of you... all of us were chosen for our courage and our endurance. We are not soldiers, but skilled warriors, clever woodsmen, and if the shadow-wood turns against us we will beat it. That must strengthen our hearts." The elves were so quiet one could have heard a feather fall to the floor between them. It wasn't the best of speeches, but if she believed in it, maybe they would too. "Greenwood has become a dangerous place, and we cannot tell what we will meet in the shadow-wood. But we are elves of the Mountain, as strong as stone and as wise as trees. When the road is dark, we will not look back. We will look ahead, and we will make it."
"My Lady", the elves mumbled in chorus. Merilin bowed her head. The fear had not left her, but she could bear it.
"Look ahead", mother echoed her, "and you will make it. Take care of yourselves. Take care of each other. Beware the Shadow."
Their departure was a solemn one. There was none of the joy and excitement with which her brother's had left. They rode into great danger, and when they returned - if they did - perhaps there would be no Elvenking, and no Greenwood, and no Mountain.
Merilin turned as she rode under the arch and saw Nelladell and Taith on the stair. One in green silk, the other in pink velvet, they stood as straight as statues, raising their hands in farewell.
The House of Elrond was still and quiet, huddled in the last grey shadows of the night. Legolas had slept without dreaming. When he returned from his meeting with the twins he had been exhausted, as if the strange house with all its secrets had taken all his energy left from the journey, but there was no going back to sleep now, and though the sun was not yet over the mountains the sky had begun to brighten.
So again he left the room, but not to pace the lonely corridors or look for twins or treasures in the hallways - he left by the window, clad in his usual clothes and ignoring the ones left for him in his room, and with his wide cloak turned inside-out. With the gardens covered in snow there was not much greenery in Rivendell. The white fur lining would hide him better.
Cautiously he pushed the window open and reached out to touch the elm that grew outside.
"Do you mind?"
The elm was quiet for a while, and her naked branches brushed softly against each other.
You nightingale? Nightingale?
Legolas smiled in surprise, and it felt like the first time in a long while.
"No", he said, "Merilin is my sister. I am green-leaf."
Green-leaf, the elm repeated. Sister of nightingale!
"No, brother", Legolas said. "I am a boy, see? But it doesn't matter. Can you help me down?"
The elm gladly did. When Merilin last was in Rivendell the elm must have been very young, but Merilin had always liked elm-trees. It felt good to find something in this strange valley that reminded him of her.
Legolas stood in the snow on the edge of the courtyard and looked around. The sky was an almost luminous kind of blue and the high clouds around the mountain peaks had pink edges. The dark pine trees on the cliffs around the house stirred in a light wind. At the southern end of the courtyard, by the bridge that spanned the river down in its deep gorge, stood two sentinels at watch. Otherwise the courtyard was empty.
Legolas breathed in the cool air and felt his heart lift a little. He could explore Rivendell on his own, watch the elves from a distance before he went to talk to them, and maybe when he understood the House of Elrond it would not feel so bad.
With the white fur cloak around him he rounded the north wing, following a shovelled path around the corner and in between high snow-covered hedges. The path led him past an old oak-tree that grew by itself by the hedge, and then into an open garden that overlooked a ravine. An overbuilt bridge stretched over it. Legolas leaned over the railing to watch the stream at the bottom of the ravine and wondered if perhaps there was a monster in it. Hethulin often said there were monsters in the Sea.
He walked through a garden embedded in deep snow, under apple trees who's naked branches whispered softly when he passed. He stopped to watch a large fountain covered in ice, and followed a narrow path with steps hewn out of the rock that led down to the river. He cautiously tried the ice, but jumped back when cracks opened under his foot and the ice moaned a warning.
He went up again and walked over an archery range almost hidden in the folds of the cliffs. From there he came to another practise field, a large empty area of tightly packed snow fenced off with rope and poles, that lay just behind the house. He crossed it warily, keeping an eye on the darkened windows ahead. A broad flight of stairs led into the house. Legolas sat down behind a broad pillar and pulled his knees up to his chest.
The sun was up by then to shine through a cleft in the mountains behind the house. An eagle glided on the winds up there, a ray of sunlight turning it's feathers to gold. Legolas watched it fly and wondered exactly where the High Pass was. Even from here, the mountains faded to blue before the mists shrouded them from view, and he could not see their highest peaks. He wondered how cold it was up there, and what Hethulin and Beren was doing, and Laeros, and Amlûg.
Then he looked down - and jumped.
An elf stood down at the practise field, his breath steaming and his back to the stair. Legolas had not heard him come.
He crept in behind the pillar and made himself as small as only a wood-elf can.
The elf was tall and muscular, with bright golden hair tied in a single braid, his hands bound with leather straps, and a plain white shirt tucked into his suede trousers. Findel had pointed him out the day before, in the Hall of Fire. He was Glorfindel, an elf-lord - and a balrog-slayer.
A balrog-slayer! Legolas eyed the sword in the elf's hand, hoping he would use it.
He was not disappointed.
Unaware that someone watched, Glorfindel raised the sword front of him. He held it like father did, with his hands in almost the same position around the handle as Legolas had been taught, and his knees were only slightly bent, so that it looked like he was not going to fight at all.
He moved the sword up, then down, very slowly, as if testing it's weight. Then he tilted it to the left, and then to the right. He turned his torso to the side, but kept the sword perfectly still as if there was an invisible cord that held it in one place, with the knob pointing down between his feet. He turned to the other side, and the sword still did not move. It caught the sunlight as it peered over the mountains, and Glorfindel's pale hair glinted.
He tilted the sword to the side, raised it a little - and then, just like that, he swept it down from the right to the left so quickly all Legolas saw was a flash of steel - then from the left to the right, and in a wide circle above his head.
He went still again.
Legolas held his breath.
The elf-lord set one foot in front of the other, a precise movement, calculated in every aspect, from the counter-weight of the other foot to the slight angling of the sword to prepare it for the next move. A moment later, he was not where he had just been. The sword whirled through the air, Glorfindel spun around, his feet left the ground -
Then he was still, straight, his pose mirroring the one he had had before.
But he had not just shifted. He stood several yards further from the stair than when he started, and Legolas had counted the sword's movements from one side to the other to at least four. Glorfindel had moved too fast even for a wood-elf's eyes.
Legolas let out the breath he had been holding, only to inhale sharply again.
Glorfindel threw the sword up in the air, caught it in his left hand, and launched into a series of moves - a dance, almost, though every movement was as slight and contained as possible - not stopping, not slowing down; the sword whirled this way and that, sometimes in his right and sometimes in his left hand, and Glorfindel moved with it. It looked like his feet never left the ground, but Legolas could tell that they did. He moved so fast that more than once, Legolas had no idea how he had come from one pose to the next.
He was so entranced by Glorfindel's swordplay he did not notice they had company until Glorfindel himself stopped, lowered his sword, and turned to the stair.
Legolas shrank further back into the shadow of the pillar.
Another elf stood on top of the stair. He was shorter than any noldor Legolas had seen, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, clad in a bright blue tunic, and with hair that barely reached past his square jaw. When he walked down towards the practise field he limped badly on one leg as if from an old injury, but he looked too young to have been in any war.
Glorfindel sheathed his sword and met the elf half-way up the stair. The elf bowed lightly.
"The twins are soon leaving, my lord, and they wanted a word beforehand. It is about the White Cou..."
"Hush, Echail, not out loud! We do not know who might hear us."
The elf flinched at the sharp tone, and blushed scarlet. Hastily he said: "No one's here anyway, my lord. I would have noticed. You would have noticed, my lord, no one can..."
"Do not be foolish", Glorfindel said, but then he smiled. "Let it go, Echail. I merely wish to be cautious. Just because no one has sneaked past me unnoticed for the last hundred years does not mean they never will."
Legolas smiled to himself. A balrog-slayer ought to know that a wood-elf is never spotted when he does not want too.
"Very well, my lord", Echail said, though he was still blushing. "Elladan and Elrohir are the the Blue Parlour. Shall I take your sword?"
"Please."
Glorfindel unclasped his sword-belt and handed it to Echail, who took it with the ease of someone used to swords. As he limped down the stair he swung his casually from side to side, and without turning Glorfindel said, "Echail...", and Echail laughed and threw the sword from one hand to the other, barely looking at it.
Glorfindel smiled and shook his head. He stood on top of the stair and watched Echail as he walked over the practise fields and around the corner. Then, without turning, he said: "I will let you go for this time, little spy, but I'll have you know I do not like to have an audience when I practise. No one had successfully sneaked on me for the last hundred years. I intend to keep it that way."
Legolas did not move or breath until he was sure the elf-lord was far away. Then he got up and went inside the house - which was awake and filling with other elves now that the sun was up - and he did not slow down until he had found an empty corridor where he could gather his thoughts and his breath.
Perhaps he should have understood that a balrog-slayer wasn't going to drop his guard at any time ever. But if he couldn't trust his own senses - if he couldn't trust the skill to hide that the wood-elves had mastered - then what could he trust? At least Echail had not seen him, though he had stood even closer. Maybe it was just Glorfindel who was that good. It made him feel a little better.
When he looked up, two people were just rounding the corner at the far end of the corridor. One of them was Arahad.
The other one - Legolas knew instinctively who it was. He was as tall as Glorfindel and dark of hair like the other noldor, but his face was different; not precisely ageless, but not aged either, merely webbed with fine lines like the veins of last years' leaves. He wore heavy silks of purple and gold, and there was a streak of silver in his hair. His eyes were as dark as the night sky, and as deep as the sea.
Legolas darted out of their way and pretended to be very interested in the view from one of the windows. Maybe if he didn't look at them they wouldn't -
"You're up early, Legolas", Arahad said. "Did you sleep well?"
Legolas glanced up and nodded. Arahad didn't scare him any more, but the other one...
"This is the Greenwood child", Arahad said to the elf, who nodded as if he had understood that already. "Legolas, this is lord Elrond, the lord of Rivendell."
It was as Legolas had thought. Up close, lord Elrond looked almost as kind as he was intimidating - like father in a way, but also very different. And like his children he seemed sad; sad and old and weary. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, even when he spoke.
"Pleased to meet you, little one", he said and the fine lines around his eyes deepened when he smiled. "I should have welcomed you properly yesterday, but Arahad and I had a lot to discuss, and it was very late when we were done. So, as the lord of Rivendell I now welcome you most warmly to my House."
Legolas did not meet his gaze. He tried to remember what Tinuhen had said about greeting the elf-lord, but his head was empty.
"Elrond and I were just talking about you", Arahad said. "Or rather, about your companions. Would you like to tell us a bit more about them? Only in case there is anything we can do to help them that we have not already done."
"Do not be afraid", lord Elrond said. "Let us sit down here, so you do not have to look up at me. Sometimes, you know, I forget how tall I am until I have to bow down to speak to people."
It was probably a joke, but Legolas did not dare to laugh. Lord Elrond sat down in the window and beckoned at Legolas to sit beside him, while Arahad remained standing, leaning against the wall. He had changed into a dark velvet tunic with embroideries around the neckline, and his hair was no longer swept back by a leather strap, but loose and curling down his shoulders. Strangely, though he was only a ranger, Arahad looked a lord almost as much as the elves.
"Now", lord Elrond said, "Arahad told me about the avalanche in the mountains. There seem to be no way to advance the High Pass, nor will there be until spring when that snow has melted. This usually happens sooner or later every winter. However, there are many other ways over the Misty Mountains, as I am sure you have been told. Your leader, his name was Beren, correct? And Beren is also your father?"
Legolas hesitated. He wondered - not for the first time, and not for the last - if he should tell them who he truly was. Then he could tell them about the traitor, and maybe lord Elrond would know what to do. But hadn't Tinuhen said something about taking lord Elrond with surprise, when it was time for the meeting? And maybe the traitor would also hear about it, and both Tinuhen and Legolas would be in even greater danger.
At long last, Legolas nodded again.
"Legolas son of Beren, then", lord Elrond said, and he was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled and shook his head. "I see. Legolas, do you know how much supplies your father still has left? Did you bring wagons, or only pack-horses?"
Legolas started to shake his head, the realized lord Elrond had not asked a yes-or-no-question.
"Wagons", he said.
"There, I knew you could talk! So you had wagons. How many? Do you know if they were still full, or rather empty?"
"Two", Legolas said and decided he didn't want to seem like a person who couldn't talk. "I don't know... we were careful with the supplies because we didn't know if the High Pass would be open. But I don't think they have enough for very long."
"I see", said lord Elrond. "It will take them a while to reach the other passes, but with the éoréd all but gone from the Vale there should be plenty of game. Now that Framsburg is abandoned it is hardly safe to go north, and I doubt they will take the pass over the Gladden River."
"That leaves the Dimrill Stair", Arahad said softly. Lord Elrond's smile died away at the mention of that place. That was, Legolas remembered, the pass where lady Celebrían had been attacked.
"That pass is safe now", Arahad said. "As safe as it will be. How many warriors did Beren bring, Legolas?"
"Twenty-five."
"Good. Then there is nothing to worry about. Lord Elrond, we should send out someone to meet them. They may not know the way to Rivendell from the south. Have the twins left yet? I don't think they were heading for anywhere in particular - and they know that part of the mountains. We could ask them to go there."
"I would rather that the twins stayed here."
Arahad shook his head. "They will not stay, my lord, they never will. But if you send them to meet the wood-elves they will soon return with them."
"Ah."
It struck Legolas that Arahad must know the twins very well - and lord Elrond too, it seemed. He wondered why that was, and why he hadn't know the dunedain were this close to the noldor.
Then he thought about Tinuhen and was suddenly terrified that there was something he ought to do that he didn't know. After all, what did he know? What if everything depended on him telling lord Elrond the truth? But then again, what if it depended on him keeping it secret?
He knew nothing, and yet he felt as though so much was on his shoulders. Maybe it was his fault from the start, too. If he had just convinced Tinuhen to move...
"You look troubled, little one", lord Elrond said. "Do not worry too much. It will be alright."
"Will it?" Legolas asked. "Or do you just say that because you hope so?"
Lord Elrond tilted his head to the side. "What does your heart tell you?"
"Uh... I don't know." Legolas frowned. "But it was my fault, and if anyone should be in danger it should be..."
"No, no, no", lord Elrond said. "None of that. You could not have known what would happen. It was by chance you escaped, but who is to say chance did not have a reason to bring you here?"
"But..."
"It was wise of you to trust the rangers, child, even if your companions did not. Do not feel guilty that you could not protect them all. You can help them from here instead."
Legolas shivered, though he could not tell if it was from relief or something else. "Really?"
"Really", lord Elrond said. "The rangers are more experienced in the Mountains than any of your companions, I am sure, and so it was wise of you to trust them. In Greenwood, it would have been wise of a ranger to trust the counsel of wood-elves. That is wisdom - to know when you are wisest, and when you are not." A bell tolled somewhere in the house, and lord Elrond looked up. "That would be the breakfast bell. I shan't keep you any longer, Legolas. If you remember something more that might be of importance, do tell me, will you?"
The rangers were just about to leave for breakfast when Legolas returned to the guest quarters. Lord Elrond's words must have had some effect, for Legolas felt better now than he had before as if a heavy burden had left his chest; well enough to be hungry, anyway. He left his cloak in his room and followed the rangers to the dining hall.
"Where have you been?" Hawn asked. "I thought you were still asleep."
"Nowhere. Just walking." Legolas slowed down to admire the carvings on a door they passed, then scuttled away after the rangers when it opened. The door reminded him of something. "What does one book is a greater treasure... no, the only treasure greater than one book is two books mean?"
"You've been to the Hall of Artefacts?" Findel said. "That's what the letters say over the door to Erestor's library."
"The Hall of Artefacts?"
"If you've seen it, you cannot have missed it. The Hall of Artefacts is where old and memorable things are kept. Tapestries, weapons and the like. I could show you sometime."
So that was all the old stuff in the hallway where he met the twins - memorable things. "So there's a library behind the doors?"
Findel nodded. "Erestor's library. You saw him yesterday - a tall elf, rather quiet, with silver chains in his hair. He's lord Elrond's chief counsellor, but he also maintains the library, and I'm sure he couldn't imagine a greater treasure than a couple more books."
They met many other elves as they walked, all of whom wished them a good morning, many throwing Legolas a curious glance. He thought they looked less mysterious and more like other elves in daylight, and he liked the way their laughter filled the house - there was even another elf who looked his age, but he saw her only briefly, and her family didn't stop to talk.
The dining hall was smaller than the Hall of Trees, but Legolas had never seen something so magnificent. Ornate stone pillars twisted their way up to a white stone ceiling, where they split into dozens of arches like feathers. The windows were made of tiny pieces of glass put together into pictures - beautiful maidens with flowing hair, noble knights on prancing horses - that splintered the mornings light into thousands of spots that fell over the elves seated below. There were four tables standing in a square, with one of them upon a dais before a great tapestry that shone in silver and gold. On the dais sat the lords and ladies, tall and proud and dark-haired, clad in the sober colours of early dawn.
The rangers sat below the great windows, and at first Legolas didn't know what to look at - all the food or all the elves. The food was laid out on silver platters and the elves were passing around jugs of sweet cider, baskets of freshly baked bread and bowls with dried berries for the porridge. There was even hot chocolate. Findel pointed out Erestor for him - he sat beside lady Arwen on the dais, and she was looking over his shoulder into the book he read. Glorfindel sat there too, as did Arahad. Behind lord Elrond's chair stood the elf named Echail with his hands behind his back.
Legolas leaned towards Hawn. "Who is that? The elf behind lord Elrond. The short one."
"Oh. That's Echail - lord Elrond's valet. His... assistant, I guess you might say. He helps him with all sorts of things, and lord Elrond trusts him very much."
"He looks so grumpy, though."
"Well, he can be. But he's a cheerful fellow when you get to know him. And he's one of Rivendell's best sword-fighters - or was, before he got injured."
"How'd that happen?"
Hawn was quiet for a moment. "I shouldn't tell. It's not my place. It's a long story."
Secrets, Legolas thought. Wherever he went there were more secrets. And he was no better than anyone else.
"That's right", Hawn said, "did somebody tell you that we are leaving today? Just after breakfast, Arahad says. We weren't meant to but the twins have heard rumours of goblins close to the Men's villages and if that's true we have to do something about it."
"Some strange winter this is", one of the other rangers said. "Goblins out of the mountains, wood-elves in them. And no Dorwinion!"
The rangers all agreed that the lack of Dorwinion wine lately was a tragedy, even though, as Hawn pointed out, Dorwinion wasn't for drinking in large amounts the way the rangers preferred to drink. Father had complained about it too, many times - not that he couldn't drink it in large quantities, because he could, but because there was so little of it nowadays.
"I bet lord Elrond has some secret stash somewhere", one of the rangers said. "Hidden away in his chambers..."
Legolas leaned back in his chair and listened to their talking. To his left, a couple of elves were talking about trading, comparing arrow-tips from Lothlorien to those from Rivendell, and agreeing that the ones from Rivendell were far better even if the Lothlorien archers might be more skillful themselves. Legolas blew on his chocolate and wondered if the Lórien archers were better than those of Greenwood.
"Here, Legolas", Findel said suddenly. "Can you read?"
"Uh - yes. Why?"
"I thought wood-elves couldn't read."
"Oh. Uh, most of us can't. But I can."
Findel looked pleased. "That's a very good thing, to be able to read. Not everyone is so lucky."
"Why? Reading is boring. I don't like books."
"You don't? Oh, don't let Erestor here you say that. He would be so sad. And such a waste, when you can read and all!" He thought for a moment, then pushed his empty plate away and stood up. "Will you stay here for a moment? I'll be back soon."
"Is it about books?" Hawn called after him. "I bet it's about books."
It was about books. When Findel returned he was hiding one behind his back, and when Legolas had finished eating he showed it to him.
"I doubt you will ever be bored of Rivendell", he said, "but if you do, I think you might like this. There is no one like it, I think, in Erestor's library."
The book was thin and rather small, with a tattered leather cover, and bold green letters on the front:
Of archery and cleverness:
Tales from Doriath
A Collection of Traditional Stories Gathered by Nibennel Rain-hunter
"From Doriath?"
"It's not the usual sad tales you would expect from the First Age. They're very entertaining - and very old, of course. I think you might like them."
The book had been read many times, and there were pine needles and grains of sand between every page, as if it had also been stuffed deep down in a bag along with dirty clothes and spare boots and left there for many a travel. Legolas flipped page after page. At the start of each chapter there was a picture, so skillfully made that even if it was not bigger than the palm of his hand, it showed the details on every tree, every feather on the archer's arrows, every scale on the fire-breathing dragon and every coin dropping out of the slit in the thief's leather bag. Some pages were framed by leaves, some by flames or stars.
"I didn't know there were books like this", Legolas said. "I wonder why we don't have it in Greenwood."
"Maybe no one thought it was important enough."
Legolas was about to hand the book back, but Findel shook his head.
"I've read it a hundred times already. You can borrow it."
"Thank you", Legolas said, and though he had never imagined he would be thankful for a book, he meant it. "I don't read very fast, though."
"As long as you read at all that shouldn't be a problem, should it? Maybe you'll learn to read faster, and then you won't find it so boring."
"Well, maybe!"
The rest of the morning, though, the book lay waiting for him inside his room, and Legolas helped the rangers pack. He wanted to ask them to stay, but he pretended he did not care much that they left.
The rangers left an hour before noon, and the twins with them. They let Marigold stay behind, because they did not need her for a pack-horse this time, and Arahad wanted her to rest.
"Maybe you could take her out riding someday", Findel said, as they walked down the stair to the courtyard, where the other horses already waited for them. "She'll be glad to get out. You can't leave the valley on your own, of course, but maybe lord Elrond will let you follow some other elves, on a hunt or suchlike. Do you hunt?"
"Not on horseback. Mother says when I'm older."
Arahad walked over to them with a pair of saddlebags flung over his shoulder. He had changed from the velvet tunic to his usual clothes, and his hair was kept from his face by the leather strap again. But he was smiling, and it made him look young.
"Erestor keeps insisting we should pass by Netherford and buy him some more ink", he said. "And I keep assuring him that he will find no ink in Netherford until the Midwinter Market."
"What's the Midwinter Market?" Legolas asked.
"Oh, a sight to see", Findel said. "It's one of the biggest markets held between Rohan and Bree nowadays, and the only one I know of held in winter. Strangely, because Netherford is a very small village. But it so happens to lay by the only ford north of Tharbad, expect for our ford of course, but few knows about that."
"Our ford?"
"Over Bruinen. The river. Here, someone must take you out and show you the land! Arahad, we should talk to..."
"Elrond knows how to take care of his guests", Arahad said. "And there is no time. We must be off."
One by one the rangers mounted their horses and took farewell of their friends among the elves. Elladan and Elrohir were already mounted, and lady Arwen stood between them in a long, fur-trimmed coat, but Legolas could not hear what they talked about. Findel promised that if they heard anything of Tinuhen, he would make sure Legolas got the news as soon as possible; Hawn tousled hair hair with his four-fingered hand and said: "See you in a couple of weeks, little one."
Legolas looked after them as they rode over the southern bridge and in between the pine trees. Then they were gone. He wrapped his arms around him. Lady Arwen bowed her dark head and gave a deep sigh, as if she bore the troubles of the whole world on her slender shoulders.
"Are you coming in?"
Legolas turned. The boy who had talked to him in the Hall of Fire came walking over the courtyard with his arms full of heavy books.
"I'm taking these to Erestor", the boy said - was Lindir his name? "He lives in the south wing, but Glorfindel has been borrowing them. Would you like to come?"
"Uh..."
"I mean", Lindir said, "if you don't have anything else to do."
"Well, I don't."
Lindir smiled. It was an easy smile that made it hard not to smile back. The topmost books started sliding from his grip, and he had to lean backwards to catch them. "If you want I could show you around Rivendell some day. Or I could show you my lute! I want to be a minstrel when I grow up, but as of now I'm running errands for lord Elrond, mostly, the ones Echail is too important to do - Echail is my brother - oh no..." Some of the books started sliding again, but Legolas caught them before they fell in the snow.
"Thank you. I don't know what Glorfindel's doing with all these books - he never reads much. Erestor thinks he uses them as paper weights."
"Is Echail your brother?"
"Yeah - but he isn't very much like me."
"Do you want me to help you?" Legolas asked, shifting the books over to a more comfortable grip.
"Yes, thank you! It's not far. This way."
"If you're running errands for lord Elrond", Legolas said, trudging after Lindir, "then you know a lot about him, don't you? I mean - things not everyone knows."
"Well, I do. But Echail knows more. Mother says lord Elrond would trust me a lot more if I didn't gossip so much, but I don't - it's just that I know a lot that goes on in Rivendell. For example, no one is talking about this - this way, down here - for example I know there'll be a secret meeting of sorts here in Rivendell, and I also know lord Elrond has tried to make the twins stay more at home, but they don't want to - and some people say they want to get themselves killed, but mother doesn't want me to say that."
"Now you did say it, though."
"Well, so I did."
Lindir talked so quickly and so much that by the time he actually fell silent, Legolas had forgotten to ask more about that secret meeting.
Sorry for the slight delay - I unexpectedly got a job and didn't have as much time to write as I would have needed! I wanted to rewrite this chapter a lot more than I ended up doing, because I think that story-wise it would have been better, even if the chapter itself might be all right. I decided in the end to leave it, partly because I don't want to leave you waiting, and partly because I don't know the chapter needs rewriting, it's just a feeling I have, and whether you guys like it or not I will have learnt something from it.
The good news are that, while these last few chapters has been pretty difficult to write, the next ones will not need as much editing so I should be able to update on time and still be satisfied with them. Thank you for your patience, and please tell me what you think! :)