Celeborn lay naked on a bed he rarely used. It was his third bedroom that housed his head mounts, and skins from his numerous kills graced the floor or were tossed carelessly over the backs of chairs. A line of fletching made from goose feathers for a new batch of arrows was strung in front of the fire, drying the dye he used to transform them from white to dark grey. A white silk sheet was bunched over his groin for a measure of decorum as two healers once again examined his leg, imparting healing. The foot of his healing leg was resting on the floor and good leg stretched down the bed.
"Light work did not include sitting for hours at your desk, my lord," Maiawë, the master healer of Lothlórien chastised lightly. "Your leg is stiff and I want you to keep it elevated tonight and definitely not in the current position. Here let me raise it."
He made to grab a pillow when his taciturn patient snarled, "I'll put the leg in any blasted position I flipping choose!" He was faster than his healer and threw the pillow across the room. "You've done enough fussing over this scratch. Tomorrow I'll be back to my normal routine."
"I let him have his toys today." A voice had the healers turning and bowing reverential heads in her direction. Galadriel looked at her frowning husband. "Your bath is ready. I see you did as I requested and disrobed." She looked around. "Where are the offending robes?"
"Emoth has already removed them," he growled as a twinge of pain let him know he spent too much time on his healing limb. He rose, drawing the sheet around his waist. "Am I to be bathed like an elfling again?"
She smiled and he saw she had changed into her almost sheer sleeveless gown that ended at the top of her thighs leaving long bare legs and bare feet to the gaze of his healers. The primal urge to harm the ellon looking upon her, although their thoughts were shrouded, caused fire to flash in his eyes and her smile widened. She retrieved the pillow from the floor and held it in front of her as she approached. Her eyes drifted to the younger healer, who was staring at the floor, before settling on their old friend, Master Healer, Lord Maiawë. "Thank you. Lord Celeborn and I will dine in our private chambers. Could I trouble you to inform Emoth?"
The younger healer spoke up, "I would be honored to pass such a message on."
"I understand you and Vellon spent hours today in discussion?" Maiawë subtlety chastened.
"He is my head steward and I still have a kingdom to run," Celeborn acerbically replied and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "You two are dismissed. I don't need to see you again."
As they hurried away, Galadriel's musical voice, filled with laughter followed, "About this time tomorrow, my dear healers." She turned to him and tossed the pillow onto the bed. "I'm sure young Lobán is being punished for something; drawing the lot to assist with you."
"He saw more of you than I like," Celeborn growled and his gaze lowered down her body, taking in a gown that showed more than it hid, although in an alluring way. He felt himself responding as he reached out and pulled a ribbon on a bow just below her throat and the sheer gown fell open to between her breasts. His fingers automatically reached for the offending bow and it parted down to her navel. With each pull of a ribbon his desire grew. His hand found the last one over her mons and the gown parted.
"My naneth wears less than this to keep my adar happy," Galadriel stated and let the material slide off her shoulders. Naked, she stood proudly before him and tugged the sheet from his fingers. "I thought we could wash each other like elflings or newly bonded."
He tried to draw her to the bed and she resisted.
"You know I cannot stand the smell of the ingredients in your dies."
Deflating a little, he took her hand and they walked through their private hall to the bathing chamber. Steam was rising off the water in the large oval tub sunken into the stone floor. She helped him down the steps at one end until they were mid-thigh deep. Helping him sit, she reached for a jar of scented soap. It carried the scent of pine and he slid down until under the water. Surfacing, he allowed her to wash his hair. "While I was occupied, what did your mirror disclose?" He allowed his hands to play with her assets and expected to hear some mundane discourse about another cat eating their sheep.
"Círdan is with a large band of dwarves on the Great East Road. I surmise they will be at Elrond's in a few days. I was given a vision of them in the pines."
He perked up. Since trade between elves, men and dwarves ceased, he had no reason to visit the Havens and hadn't seen the mariner for at least….he thought…. only twice since Celebrían.
"I know, meleth-nín. We made this place our security and shut the world out. We can no longer hide. Events are unfolding at a rapid pace and we must be part of it. Even Thranduil must give up his sanctuary."
"Does he only go as far as Imladris?" He rose and let her run a soapy sponge over his body. In a moment, he would return the favor with her favorite scent; a light rose.
"He plans on seeing the dwarves all the way to Erebor." She avoided his healing area. "Turn around."
"Are you going to warn Elrond?"
"No, let him be surprised. Our daeriôns are scouting ahead, so Elrond will know they are close before they descend into the valley, and I saw Glorfindel on western patrol. I'm sure he knows they are getting close."
"Vellon told me the dwarves are coming down Dimrill Stair. He did as you requested, although I would have let them starve."
"You are clean." She ignored his comment and set the cleaning cloth on the stone edge of the tub and submerged, allowing her hair to float in golden tresses above her until completely wet.
Celeborn grabbed a handful and tugged her face above the water. "Continue." He washed her hair; one of his secret joys, while she obliged.
"There will be another battle at the mountain."
His eyes darkened and he focused on the task at hand, fingers massaging her favorite soap onto every inch of hair. "Tell me."
"Elrond and our daeriôns are fighting as is Thranduil."
He sighed, "And me as well?"
"Yes. We can't allow Mithrandir to face a possible dark wizard alone. He needs his friends."
"Did you see this wizard?" He so wanted a face to hate.
It was her turn to sigh. "No, just a gaining of Sauron's powers. He is sending more fighters from Mordor and I'm afraid this time they are led by the Nazgûl. I don't know why, but Sauron desperately does not wish for the mountain to thrive under the dwarves. You must take a message to Thranduil. He must be responsible for the protection of the mountain and an ally when needed. With Círdan reinforcing my words, he will listen. I will write to Círdan also." She sank down and let him rinse her hair.
Done bathing each other, Celeborn rose and helped her up.
"Sit. I don't have time for you to humor our healers. I need your leg a hundred percent tonight."
He sat on the cold stone and she knelt before him. "I get cold hard rock and you warm water. You will make it up to me."
She looked up into his laughing eyes. "I'll make you forget your brains are getting cold."
He grinned and watched her hand bearing Nenya glow white as she laid it gently on his healing scar. He could feel flesh knitting together. When she pulled her hand back, the wound was gone.
"You could have done this days ago," he complained and once again placed weight on the leg. To his relief, the pain was gone, although it would take a few more days for him to strengthen the muscle. Taking her hand they exited up a set of stone steps and reached for warm towels. "When do I leave?" he asked and started drying her lithe, lean body.
"As soon as possible, meleth-nín." She stood still until he was done and returned the favor.
"Tell me I don't have to go with the dwarves," he complained and watched as she swiftly braided her hair.
"No, I want you with Thranduil when the dwarves start entering his lands. You, he will listen to and we don't need a war between him and Thráin."
He grabbed her braid and let his powers dry it from base to tip and watched as she loosened the braid and grab a brush. "Are you going to dry mine?"
"In a moment." She drew the brush through the tangles and soon her hair was cascading in loose waves down her back. Only then did she dry his and they walked nude down their private hall to the master bedroom, her fingers resting on his.
Thorin advanced and parried. His first workout stretched his new skin and he was sure it would crack and bleed. Now, three weeks later, he felt normal, although his sparring partner this warm day wouldn't allow him a tunic, stating he needed to observe his patient's skin.
Elrond looked to see if the dwarf prince needed instruction as he backed up allowing Thorin to set the pace. "Your education may have suffered, but your father's training is discernible."
"Father sparred with my brother and I nightly. Truth told, I was already almost through my basic warrior training when Smaug came." He started his retreat when Elrond suddenly reversed their positions and became the attacker. "I am catching up on my Sindarin with Erestor's tutelage."
"He claims you are quicker to train than the others." Elrond pressed faster and was pleased Thorin easily held him off.
"I may have learned more than I ever let on over the years," Thorin admitted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the human boy approaching. He was invited to dine every night he was mobile with the lord's immediate family. Their talking in Sindarin helped him catch on swiftly and he could converse on the boy's level. The youth asked him many questions and he found himself entertaining them with stories of what it was like to work non-stop for his kind. "Maybe I should take a turn with young Estel."
Elrond stopped swinging and motioned the boy to take his place.
With a quick grin, Estel, drew his sword and got into position.
"Put your sword away," Thorin ordered with a stern look.
The smile faded, but Estel did as instructed, but not without a questioning look to his adar.
Elrond smiled and nodded.
"You will not always have an opportunity to get in a sparring stance. You need to be able to draw your sword and be fighting as soon as it clears leather," Thorin instructed. "We will practice a few times. I want you to draw and block my attack."
"But I always am instructed on proper form," Estel protested.
"Oh, I thought you might like to learn a new technique," Thorin apologized with his tone and his eyes were dancing in laughter.
"I do," Estel protested and heard his foster father laughing.
Thorin slowly walked him through how to draw and block an attack up high and down low and they practiced until the dinner horn sounded.
At supper that night, Estel asked, "I want you to teach me more new ways of fighting, Prince Thorin?"
Gilraen shook her head, "You can't ask that of a guest or a prince, Estel."
He looked thoughtful and then at her, "Why not?"
"Why not?" Thorin echoed with a grin.
"It's not proper for a lad to ask anything of a grown man or a prince."
"In my culture, young dwarrowlads can ask an adult to assist with fighting. Most lads learn from their fathers or grandfathers. My father took me to the sparring arenas when I learned to walk. As the Crown Prince's son, I was allowed to ask any adult to fight with me. I guess having a title gave me privilege." He gave her a measured look. "Any boy who will grow up to be king should be exposed to more than a mere soldier."
Gilraen looked at Elrond in surprise.
Elrond and Erestor exchanged looks from opposite ends of the table.
'Do you think he suspects Estel is our hidden king?' Erestor asked silently.
'Possibly. Thorin is intelligent and sees how the boy is raised as my iôn. I doubt he will talk.'
'What will you do if he does?'
Elrond looked somber. 'I don't know.'
Silent conversation over, Erestor addressed Thorin, "We value all children and elflings equally. Every youngster who ever resided at Imladris is educated in Sindarin and Westron. Maybe you could teach Estel a few Khuzdul phrases."
"If he is willing." Thorin looked across the table at the boy, who smiled and nodded.
Thorin accepted the ale Elrond offered. It was late and other than elves singing in the Hall of Fire, only crickets could be heard on this warm night. He was sitting on a patio when he saw Elrond approach with ale and a glass of wine.
"I thank you for taking time for Estel," Elrond began. "He has been sheltered here and I'm taking him with us to Erebor on his first trip abroad. I haven't told him yet, but will in the morning, so if you hear shouts of excitement, ignore him."
Thorin nodded, "I remember my first trip when about his age. My father took me to the Iron Hills for a match between dwarflings. I think the first trip is the best."
"I told you of my first and second trips as an elfling. My brother and I resided in the elven camp for months as battles raged. Even as a youngster, I was fascinated with healing and found myself in the healing tents almost daily. I remember this young elven lord was badly burned and the Maiar worked personally on him almost nonstop. His father stayed by his side, even when ordered to return to the fighting. Finally one day I was walking among the wounded and saw the elf on the bed alone and approached. To my surprise, he looked almost normal. I saw him when his face was half burned away. Curiosity overcame manners and I approached and struck up a conversation. To my delight he was bored and ready to talk to anyone. He told me all about his injuries and the dragon who seared him with fire. After that day we became friends and in time he went to join his father on the front lines. I feared I would never see my newfound friend again, but at battle's end when we were fleeing away from coastal areas the Maiar said they were destroying with water, he came riding up on his horse and waved his sword to get my attention. It was my friend, Lord Thranduil. He became a prince when the Silvan elves crowned his father king over them."
The word, sword, jarred Thorin's memory and drew his sword and looked at the elvish runes. "I just found out this sword belonged to Erestor's father. I asked him if he desired it."
"What did he say?" Elrond asked softly as he took Orcrist. He quite forgot Erestor's father was owner, as it was so long ago in a land that no longer existed outside fable.
"He said he feared it would bring him the same luck as his father. He did hold it for a long time. If he ever wants it, I will relinquish ownership."
"Erestor was born on the long trail of sorrow to the Havens of Sirion after the fall of Gondolin. He has no connection with Gondolin and was just an elfling when his mother, my brother's and my nanny, was slaughtered in our bedchamber, so he became an orphan and was placed under the care of Círdan to raise as his son. He chose to stay with me over Círdan, for which I'm grateful. When the lays of Ecthelion are sung, he will slip away, for he doesn't want to long for what he can't remember. In a way, I am the same. I don't care to listen to the lays of my parents, for they are painful." He handed the sword back. "If Erestor wanted the sword, he would have claimed it when it first came here. I doubt Mithrandir made the connection."
"I was worried I was stepping on his feelings. He mentioned it to me in the mountain, but I wanted to ask you. You said much as he did."
"Círdan gifted Erestor with the sword he welds today on his hundredth begetting day. It means more to him than Orcrist." Elrond smiled in memory. "If I were offered my father's sword or Hadhafang, the sword I inherited when the High King was killed; I would take the one I carry. You formed a bond with Orcrist and it belongs to you. Sometimes I think swords choose their masters. It always came back to you."
Thorin sheathed the fine sword. "Legolas doesn't agree." He laughed with Elrond.
"Speaking of things coming to you, are you prepared for the influx of dwarrowlasses your father is throwing at you?"
Thorin shuddered and Elrond grinned. "I think he is under the spell of Sauron and has evil in his heart."
"Or wants the best for you. Are there any in the dwarves that will be here in a few days?"
Thorin looked at him in surprise. "You know they are close?"
"I know all who enters my realm, friend or foe. Glorfindel told me. I haven't felt them as of yet."
"He is on patrol. Did he send a bird?" Thorin sounded confused.
Elrond chuckled softly. "We can communicate over distances silently. It is a gift of the Valar to the firstborn."
"So you talked with each other that way while in the meeting?" Thorin asked and took a swig of ale.
"Fraid it comes as naturally to us as breathing to you." Elrond directed the conversation to where he wanted it to go. "Will there be dwarrowlasses in the group you will lead to Erebor?" At Thorin's glare, he grinned and added, "I don't want to be far from you should you provide me with entertainment."
Thorin snorted, "I'm sure all available lasses will be in the first group. I can think of two or three who have their sights set on me or Dwalin. Too bad my sister, Dis, is bonded. She would be the perfect mate to Dwalin."
"I thought I heard a rumor circulating among the Durin's that her bond is fading." The voice spoke from the dark and Erestor stepped into the light of a nearby gas lamp.
"You heard correct. I don't know if Father will allow her to re-wed, should she lose all connection. It might not settle well with lords of other clans. Durin's are supposed to set higher standards."
"Even if two dwarves love each other?" Erestor queried. "Oh, I heard much during my time in the mountain. It seems common knowledge that Dwalin loves your sister."
"It's a love she might not be able to return and I don't want either hurt."
"Are you going to speak with your father?" Erestor pressed, while Elrond absorbed this new piece of information.
Thorin looked down and mumbled, "Only if I must. I'm hoping a lass catches Dwalin's eye."
Elrond and Erestor looked at each other over Thorin's head.
"And if her bond is gone and she loves Dwalin in return. Would you give your blessing?" Elrond asked softly.
Thorin looked up at the tall elves. "If Mahal wishes it, I will fight all the lords who would object and slander my sister's honor. There is a term for dwarrowdams that give themselves to another dwarf; O-zalafaurkhas, which means devil dam. I would not want my sister to be referred in that manner."
"I've heard that term," Elrond acknowledged and Erestor nodded his head that he too was familiar with it. "Durin IV was visiting and told us he was having issues with several dams straying in their bond and seducing other dwarves. He said when he returned to Khazad-dûm, he was going to have them singled out and publically executed along with their paramours. The husbands would be given first chance to carry out the executions. Word reached us he did just that and we haven't heard of any O-zalafaurkhas' since that time."
Thorin nodded. "That is a favorite story to keep young dwarrow in line. There have been two cases in the mountain and both were handled swiftly. It is fortunately rare and most bonding's produce love and a lasting relationship."
"Glorfindel is back," Elrond suddenly stated and felt his fëa at the landing. They moved across a foot bridge and down a set of steps to the right of the mains stairs that led to the House of Elrond. Elrond saw the landing empty and veered to the stables. He found his warrior seneschal brushing Asfaloth while the horse munched on corn mixed with apples.
Glorfindel smiled at them. "I placed a stone on the last bridge telling the twins I am aware they are close. They will be here in four days and crossed the bridge four days ago. I was waiting in our usual meeting place and they are bored…" He started to say something else, but stopped and smiled. "Did you leave me any wine?"
"And why are my iôns bored?" Elrond didn't miss the pause, but figured he didn't want to say something in front of Thorin.
"The slow pace of the dwarves and the fact the closest they got to earning their keep on the trip was near Amon Sûl. A band of men saw the dwarves in Bree telling other men that Erebor was open for business and Dale needed farmers and merchants and to spread the word. Fili and Kili were with the dwarves and noticed several looking at their money pouches when they bought supplies, so were on the lookout for trouble." Done grooming his horse, he led the way towards the house.
"Don't leave us there," Erestor ordered.
"I'm getting wine for my parched throat and will finish while soaking in a bath," Glorfindel replied, knowing his audience was itching to hear the rest.
Inside the door, Figwit met them.
"Take his pack and have the servants bring wine to the bathing chambers," Elrond instructed. As Figwit took the bag, Elrond responded silently, 'And bring clean clothes for the one who smells like a horse.' He looked down at Thorin. "Come, the servants will bring you either ale or wine, but I'm sure you want to hear the rest of this."
"I sure do," Thorin stated and kept pace up the stairs to Elrond's family wing.
Soaking to his chin, Glorfindel sipped the fine wine. "At Amon Sûl or Weathertop in Westron, a large band of robbers attacked the middle of the caravan. The guards they saw were at the front or rear. They saw youngsters and had a plan to take a few and exchange them for gold. I would have loved to been sitting on the hill watching. They rode horses at a gallop and started snagging little dwarflings who were playing along the wagons. Screams from the youngsters alerted the wagon drivers and all were armed of course. Dwarves abandoned the wagons and attacked with swords, while one blew a horn, warning of attack. Elladan and Elrohir by that time in their scouting duties picked up the trail of fresh horses and were tracking from behind the men. Needless to say, the men were quite surprised when two fully armed elves flew off Amon Sûl in their direction. Before they could recoup, six were dead with arrows in them. The twins had to stop because the others had a dwarfling and they didn't want to harm the little ones. The men tried to mount an escape, but by then were surrounded by hundreds of angry dwarves, all brandishing weapons and shouting insults and death threats."
"I hope my iôns didn't get a little one harmed," Elrond lamented and placed a hand over his eyes. He knew the love of the hunt sometimes overrode their common sense.
Glorfindel smiled and held his empty glass out for Figwit to refill. After instructing others what was needed, Figwit personally saw to Glorfindel's needs. "They rode up to the men and Elladan asked in a voice loud enough for all to hear and it went quiet. 'Why did you do something so foolish?'"
"The leader, who was holding a dwarfling, replied, 'We'll let them go unharmed for a few pouches of gold.'"
"Elladan looked around and smiled back to the men. 'I am going to shoot an arrow through your eye. Someone catch the little one. When I shoot, all elves, take your target and kill the men, but don't harm anything in their arms.'"
"The man looked around, 'I don't see any other elves except the one who looks like you. Do all elves look alike?'"
"'He's bluffing,' another man called out just as Elladan put an arrow through the man's eye and Elrohir did likewise to another. The air filled with arrows and all men had an arrow protruding from their eyes. Parents rushed in to collect shaken dwarflings while the elves scouted for more robbers. I don't have to tell you how disappointed your iôns were, but it did liven their day up. That night they increased the guards and they are still at greater numbers in the wilds. I scouted from the last bridge through the passes and didn't feel anything foul. My bet is they are still gathering on the other side of the mountain."
"To attack Erebor again?" Thorin asked.
Glorfindel handed his empty glass to Figwit. "Sauron for some reason feels threatened by the Lonely Mountain. Could be something from there is part of his demise. Sauron has some foresight."
As Thorin, Elrond and Erestor pondered Glorfindel's prediction; the golden elf slid under the water and swam to the deep end of the bathing pool to wash.