Chapter 47: Good Advice

Chapter Text

Note: Thank you for all the thoughtful and thought-provoking comments and reviews. They always help me think. re Galadriel and her 'pardon': as I said at the start of the last chapter, I don't think Tolkien makes it clear exactly when Galadriel knows she has been pardoned by the Valar (but someone tell me if I'm wrong)- and I don't think she is the sort of person to beg or be penitent on her return. I think she will expect to be invited, and return with her head held high. At this point in the story, she is still an Exile and so believes she will never see Celebrían again. And Gandalf, if you remember, told Frodo he would go and see Saruman about the One Ring and get his advice! So his judgment is a bit flawed anyway.

Thanks to my fab beta as always, Anarithilien

Thanks to all those leaving kudos, it is so encouraging when it's difficult to find the time or inspiration.

And to reviewers especially, Golden, chasingbluefish, LayneWolf, twinjay, Pame, earthdragon, Freddie, Raider-K, Nina (lovely to hear from you) Nelya, Naledi, Narya, Spiced Wine, Gabriel. Thank you all- you make it worth posting.

Chapter 47: Good Advice

The wedding itself had been straightforward and mercifully swift. A matter of exchanging pledges to love, to be a helpmate and to respect honour blah blah blah, thought Erestor, snagging a delicate glass of wine and guzzling it down. He smacked his lips and leered at Gondorian matron suggestively. He flourished his capacious velvet sleeve at her, rather pleased with effect. The new coats he had had made were even better than the grey-blue velvet that he had got from the Blue Mountains, for that had been ruined by Bearos. Selfish bastard, he thought. And the healing scars on his cheek that he had from Bearos gave him a dangerous air, he thought pleased. And this luscious gold velvet sparkled with silver thread and he looked glorious, he knew. Like Fingon. Not like Fingon, he amended drunkenly. Maybe Finrod. He grinned lasciviously. Ah, Finrod was glorious too.

Wrong hair for a Noldo, he thought with a grin. But he wasn't the only one.

He glanced around the Merethrond, the Great Hall of the King. It was separate from the Palace and rather a good banqueting hall, he thought, pleasantly surprised by its opulence. Even in the time of War Denethor had managed to maintain its splendour. It was suitably grand, its floor polished like glass, the walls hung with rich and rather beautiful tapestries which made it feel warm and welcoming. Great bowls of fire hung from the rafters in the manner of the First Age, and supplemented with huge candelabra with hundreds of wax candles that gave a soft golden light. Erestor turned, admiring the organization that had gone into this feast and recognizing Arwen's hand in the décor, the arrangement of candles, flowers and food. And the copious amounts of alcohol of course. There were a number of Rohirrim draped over one another in various corners and Gimli was carousing loudly with them. The Hobbits too were dancing and singing with Tindómion who was trying to avoid having ale sloshed over him. A small fat steward smiled at Erestor with such delight and so widely it almost seemed to split his round face. Bowing low, Erestor smiled back and the pair of them laughed with inexplicable joy before each moved on to whatever they were each doing.

Erestor was getting drunk. Or drunker, he resolved.

And trying not to look for Elladan.

He almost blundered into a small, delicate table and caught a fine vase before it toppled, righted it carefully.

'This will not do,' he muttered to himself. The crowd suddenly parted momentarily and he caught sight of Elladan briefly. Elladan's eyes were fastened on something, someone, beyond Erestor's view and radiant. As if he sensed Erestor, Elladan turned his head towards his old friend and mentor. At first Erestor's heart leapt because he thought himself the cause of Elladan's breathless excitement, but then a small group of lords moved and Erestor saw that it was Imrahil who stood with Elladan and Elladan had already turned back and gazed at the Prince of Dol Amroth, rapt.

'You're an old fool,' Erestor scolded himself. For he had missed his chance long ago. Instead Erestor sought Glorfindel in the crowd. He needed someone to drum some sense into him. He went out through the high, elaborately carved doors that stood open onto gardens and lawns, and into the open air, passing Haldir of Lorien. The Marchwarden's face was contemplative, secret and he did not see Erestor.

It was very late now and the Moon rode low in the sky, already sinking. The festival seemed to have withdrawn to the Merethrond and left the gardens a little emptier but for small groups who were looking for more quiet entertainment, or couples who found benches or nooks on the gardens to kiss. And more.

Erestor saw that Legolas Thranduillion was standing on the edge of the Palace gardens, near the ramparts and looking out at the magnificent views over the Pelennor Fields. The sky was clear and full of stars and the cool evening breeze lifted Legolas' hair. But though his face looked calm and serene, Erestor could see that his hands were clenched on the stone wall as if he feared falling. One could hardly blame him. His recent incarceration must have tried his mettle and he had barely had time to recover from War, Erestor thought with sympathy. He wondered where Elrohir was: the last time Erestor had seen him, he had been following Legolas into the Palace, obviously for a tryst. But now Elrohir was nowhere to be seen and Legolas stood alone.

Erestor squinted down his nose at the half empty glass in his hand and thought that there would be no easy path for these two lovers.

Perhaps there were no easy paths for anyone, he thought.

Moonlight shone on the white stone and there was a fragrance of jasmine somewhere. Around him, the wedding guests were looser, drunk some of them. There were still one or two jesters and tumblers strolling about the lawns to entertain the guests, and one Man was swallowing fire and then breathing it out like a small dragon. Two Elves from Lothlorien were trying to work out how he did it.

Remembering he had committed himself to getting completely drunk and thinking Legolas would be good company, Erestor grabbed two cups of wine from one of the trestle tables set up on the lawns for the purpose of holding wine and ale, and wandered towards Legolas. He smiled kindly. 'How are you, Legolas?' he asked and thrust a cup towards the Woodelf. 'It is good to see you recovered and walking. Are you riding yet?'

Legolas gave him a half-hearted smile and Erestor cursed himself for his clumsiness. 'Ah, Forgive me. I did not wish to open the wound. I am just glad to see you,' he said apologetically.

Legolas glanced at Erestor and opened his lips as if about to speak and then thought better of it. But he looked unhappy and Erestor was annoyed with himself.

Then Legolas shook himself. 'Forgive me, my lord Erestor.'

'Erestor, please,' he murmured.

Legolas shrugged a shoulder. 'In answer to your question, I am not yet riding. Nor am I training or allowed to draw a bow.' His voice held a little resentment and Erestor suppressed a smile for he understood the frustration of recovering all too well. Legolas must have seen it for he sighed and gave a slight smile himself. Then he said, 'I am sorry. I am a little bored. It is hard to find yourself with so little occupation.' He sighed. 'I do not mean to be churlish. You risked yourself to get me out of that dungeon. I cannot tell you how grateful I am. If there is anything I can do to repay you, you have but to ask.' But he sounded flat, dutiful and lacked the animation Erestor remembered in him. That first morning he had met Legolas in Imladris, Erestor had been beguiled by his sweetness, his naivety that was almost an innocence- but not quite. In Legolas' company, Erestor had heard the Song amplified in a way that Erestor had heard only once before, in the company of Finrod, that Master of the Song.

But this Legolas was a shade of himself. Hardly surprising, thought Erestor. He remembered that Bearos' hand had been empty when he slew him, Khamûl might be bound by Gandalf but that ring was somewhere, he gritted his teeth. Already he had searched but found nothing. The cell had been empty when he used his own ring to search, there had been things left behind, certainly. Even something that glittered. But it was not Khamûl. He could not ask Legolas. The child looked so fragile already.

Erestor waved away the apology and thanks. 'You owe me nothing. I just want to see you well now,' he said truthfully. 'That will be payment enough.' He watched Legolas from the corner of his eye and guzzled at the wine glass. 'Such an experience as you have had can affect even the hardiest of warriors. My lord, Maedhros, was haunted by his captivity.' Haunted by the guilt, haunted by the wicked lies of Sauron. Haunted by the blood. He sighed into his glass. 'It was very hard on him. Took him ages to recover, but slowly, he did. Fingon helped.'

But rather than relieving Legolas, his shoulders slumped and he seemed under a great weight. A deep sigh broke from him.

Erestor glanced at him. He did not speak, having learned the artfulness and use of patience long ago in Himring. Silence was more effective than words sometimes.

Legolas looked out over the city, little lights dotted all over the city below as the people celebrated the marriage of their new king, and a new age of peace and prosperity. It seemed unfair to Erestor, that one who had so much to do with bringing that about as Legolas had, should not share in it at least a little. He patted Legolas kindly on the arm; Erestor had observed Gimli do this and it always seemed to calm Legolas or reassure him. Perhaps that would work now?

Indeed, Legolas glanced at Erestor briefly and then back at the expansive sky.

'But the truth,' he said at last, 'is that I am not Lord Maedhros. I am not a great hero or great lord of the First Age. I am just an archer from the Woodland Realm. Who stupidly got caught and had to be rescued from the Nazgûl like some swooning maiden.' He looked down at the goblet in his hands. 'No one else would have been so easily caught. I am a fool. Oh, I know there were others, victims of the Ghoul who were not so fortunate and did not escape, so I am grateful.' He said this as if he was telling himself and then looked up at Erestor again. 'I am. I really am.' He chewed his lip and looked anxious. But then looked away again.

Erestor sighed and threw a companionable arm around Legolas' shoulder and clinked his glass against Legolas'.

'Do you really think that no one else would have been caught?' he asked. 'I do not believe that. Maedhros knew he was going into a trap laid by Morgoth and did it anyway, just in case it was not. Finrod knew he was going to his doom when he helped that bastard, Beren, but he still went,' he said kindly. 'History is littered with brave fools.' He rubbed his eyes. 'Fingon would have done exactly as you. He was always a bit reckless to be honest. Loved the chase.' Erestor slurped his wine noisily. He was definitely drunk. 'It's what we all loved about him really.' He did not see the astounded look of admiration and awe on Legolas' face for Erestor's face was turned and he stared out over the admittedly spectacular view of the lands of Gondor that stretched away to the Anduin. 'Fingon was so exciting to be around. You never knew what might happen. It was no wonder my lord Maedhros…' He stopped. Too far in his cups now, he reprimanded himself. That was not his story to tell and he had never, ever betrayed them. Wouldn't start now. 'It's probably one of the things we all love and admire about you.'

Was that a blush on Legolas' cheeks? Erestor smiled to himself. For all his confidence and casual sexuality, Legolas was still young by elven standards, still impressionable and the comparison had pleased him. But Erestor had meant it too.

They drank a little more together and Erestor asked about the lie of the land which Legolas answered with ease; he seemed to know exactly where everything was.

'You can't see it now but there is a partially ruined wall called the Rammas Echor,' said Legolas.

'I know it, murmured Erestor, remembering. 'It used to encircle the Pelennor Fields.'

'Yes.' Legolas glanced at Erestor. 'There is very little of it left now. That is where the Mumâks attacked from,' he said, waving a hand casually in the general direction of the East. 'And over there is Pelargir and beyond that, Umbar.'

'Hm.' Erestor did not want to think about Pelargir. The Sea was perilous to all of them and he had heard that in Legolas the Longing had stirred. The last thing Erestor wanted was to bring that up.

Suddenly Legolas turned to Erestor, leaning against the stone balustrade that ran around the garden and separated it from the Place of the Fountain, which Erestor thought was a silly and unimaginative name.

'Did he ever wear the Dragonhelm from Azarghâl?'

Erestor looked at Legolas in surprise at the suddenness and unexpectedness of the question, and laughed. 'Fingon? Yes.' He laughed, remembering. 'It was far too big for him but he wore it with padding and proudly, for it was a gift from Maedhros who was always overwhelmed by Fingon. Fingon left him breathless.' Erestor paused and sighed. He drank deeply in memory, loving them both. Missing them painfully. All of them. Ah, he needed to find Glorfindel if he was not going to become maudlin. Or Tindómion.

'That is how Elrohir makes me feel.'

It was so quietly said that Erestor almost did not hear Legolas.

It affected Erestor more than he expected. His chest felt tight with affection for them both. 'Then I am happy for you both,' he said softly, 'For Elrohir worships you. Once he told us, that is Glorfindel and me, that you two were together and we were happy for him, he could speak of nothing else.' He smiled. 'Do you know that according to Elrohir, the sun makes your hair like wintergrass? And that your eyes are green and your mouth is generous? Apparently you are the greatest archer ever to have graced Middle Earth and I am sure that Beleg Longbow himself is not a patch on you.' He laughed fondly. 'Elrohir has never been in love before. It is quite a novelty.' He paused and drank. Then he said, 'It is quite wonderful.'

Legolas said nothing but Erestor saw that he smiled at the silliness of Elrohir's boasting.

Erestor turned to him with a serious and intent expression. 'It is wonderful, and frightening too, Legolas. He needs kindness. Tenderness, for he has none for himself. He will not believe that he is worthy of you.'

Legolas nodded slowly and Erestor thought that perhaps Legolas knew Elrohir better than he had believed. He said, 'I think you know that he will need your patience and gentleness, Legolas, for you are a kindly soul. Mithrandir said so.'

'Did he?'

'He did. It was one of the first things he told us about you, when he wanted you for the Fellowship.'

Legolas' green eyes were lit with starlight and he looked for a moment like one of the Unbegotten. 'I would cut my own throat before I harmed one hair on Elrohir's head.' He held Erestor's gaze steadily for a moment, but then he dipped his gaze and tugged at the embroidered sleeve of his turquoise tunic. 'But … there are things I need to tell him. And he does not want to hear them.'

Erestor made a gentle encouraging noise. Legolas swallowed and stole another look at Erestor.

Then hesitantly he began to speak. 'I have never been in love before like this…but I have loved…Often.' He glanced anxiously at Erestor as if fearing that he would be judged. But Erestor was hardly one to judge, and he neither spoke nor looked at Legolas, just maintained his steady gaze at the great expanse of starry skies. Legolas glanced back briefly over his shoulder towards the merry crowds where the noise was coming from, the music and laughing and dancing. 'He will not let me speak of it.' He paused and his eyes rested anxiously upon Erestor.

Erestor pondered. 'Perhaps he is afraid of what you might tell him. Does he know you have had other lovers?'

'Yes.' Legolas spoke with conviction and such certainty that Erestor wondered how Elrohir knew, and what had happened.

'If Elrohir says he loves you, you have his complete devotion. He will do anything you ask, do anything to protect you. He would cross the Helcaraxë for you.' Erestor sighed. 'If you are sure that he knows you have had lovers before him, for it is not unusual and he is no shy maiden himself, why do you need to say more? Will it help that he knows?'

Legolas was nodding thoughtfully. 'What if he knows some of them?'

Erestor raised his eyebrows, amused. 'Some of them? Well you have only been this side of the Mountains since Spring so you must have been busy if Elrohir knows 'some' but not all!'

He noticed Legolas' ears had flushed a little and regretted his amusement. 'Never mind me,' he said patting his arm kindly once again. Erestor knew of Berensul of course, and there was the suspicion that Legolas may have been with Tindómion. That would sting Elrohir a little maybe, thought Erestor, but not as much as Legolas might think for Elrohir knew that Tindómion's heart was given. He smiled and said, 'What is important now is that you show Elrohir that you love him; that you and he learn to trust each other.'

At that, Legolas dropped his head and sighed so heavily that it wrenched Erestor's kindly heart.

Legolas looked down at his hands and shook his head very slightly as if in denial. 'I trust him with all my heart, Erestor. He risked everything to find me,' he said quietly. 'He cut me down, fought off the Nazgûl.' He licked his lips anxiously. 'I would die for him.'

His earnestness touched Erestor. 'Trust him,' he said softly. 'But trust yourself as well. You are a warrior of the Wood. You have proved yourself over and over. Do you love him? Really love him?'

'He is more than life itself.'

More than life itself.

Erestor drank the whole goblet down then, remembering: they had been standing on the frost-cracked stone of Himring. The bitter wind swept down from Thanogodhrim and tangled its cold fingers in Maedhros' long red hair but he seemed not to feel it, swathed in silver wolf fur and his grey eyes like steel had not softened. He is more than life itself. It had been Fingon of whom Maedhros had spoken. The words burned themselves into the stone, the ice.

Fingon, beaten and stamped into a bloody pulp in the mud.

And now here they were spoken again. A tremor of foreboding settled in his belly.

He shook himself out of the reverie. These were such different times. 'Legolas, this is a time of Peace. And you are an Elf! Immortal.' His words were for himself as much as Legolas, and he realised the irony of the advice to trust another he was giving Legolas but would not take himself. But I am a wicked old kinslayer, he reminded himself, too tough a meat for one as tender as Elladan. 'You have plenty of time to learn, to trust, to enjoy finding out about each other. Don't rush.'

He gave Legolas a quick glance, saw how he had brightened. 'Legolas. I have to say this but forgive me if I am well off the mark here. You said you were no hero, but that is exactly how Elrohir sees you. In his eyes, you are a marvel. It is hard to live up to when you are frightened and feel like you are jumping at shadows. But there is no shame in that when you have endured as you have done. You can tell him and he will think no less of you. After the Dagor Bragollach, I can never hear trumpets without looking up at the sky to see if balrogs and dragons are on their way, and pissing myself.'

Legolas laughed, shocked, and glanced at Erestor with a mixture of wonder and gratitude. 'Thank you,' he said earnestly. 'I do love him. I cannot imagine life now without him.' He bowed his head but this time there was a slight smile on his face and his shoulders relaxed.

'Good,' said Erestor and took Legolas' cup from him, drained it and gave it back to him empty. 'Now. I had resolved to get very drunk but I find that there is someone else whose life I must sort out once and for all.' He patted Legolas on the arm once more for luck and then went to find Elladan.

0o0o

Erestor's advice was so obvious that Legolas felt a dimwit for not realising it. But he had been caught up in the giddiness of Love and had not cared to be patient.

But he could be. He sidestepped a juggler who had a glass goblet, a knife, a couple of balls in the air. Thalos could keep eight knives in the air, he thought, unimpressed. And he himself could keep six.

He threaded his way between the groups of guests, thinking; he could take his time with Elrohir, as Erestor said. They could just spend time together and make it uncomplicated. After all, Elrohir had tried to be so tender and so patient with him earlier, telling him they didn't have to do anything. Elrohir had been the one to acknowledge that Legolas needed time and that they had all the time in the world. He remembered how Elrohir had moved to stand in front of him and lifted his chin so he was forced to look up into those grey eyes that were always turned towards him. Elrohir had smiled so gently. A tender, loving smile that made Legolas heart thump in his chest. And then Elrohir had said, 'I want to be with you forever. I love you.'

He saw Glorfindel, standing serenely amongst a group of admiring lords and ladies who could barely stand still in their excitement. Glorfindel looked relieved when he saw Legolas and excused himself to join the Woodelf for a while.

'Have you seen Elrohir at all?' Legolas asked Glorfindel after Glorfindel had enquired after his recovery, and Legolas did not mind because it was Glorfindel.

'He was with Elrond last I saw him.'

Of course, thought Legolas. This is a family occasion. He will want time with them, he will not want me tagging along like baggage.

He drifted a little, amongst the revelers and entertainers, wondering where Gimli was, for the Dwarf had been absent for a number of days recently engaged upon some task for Gandalf of which Gimli would not speak. The Hobbits thought, hoped, it was to do with fireworks. And the displays had been worthy of such labour.

Many people greeted Legolas warmly as he passed, and there was a clear invitation to join any number of groups of guests, but he knew none of them well and he felt a little self-conscious; they must all know about his imprisonment and even though he repeated Erestor's wise words to himself endlessly, he did not feel quite ready to join in the celebration completely.

At one point he thought he had found Elrohir, talking to Imrahil. But it was Elladan, standing a little too close, leaning against him so his arm touched Imrahil's, his dark head bent close to hear what Imrahil was saying. When Legolas turned away, he caught sight of Erestor was standing a little way off and his face was bereft.

For a moment, Legolas hesitated, wondering if he should go to Erestor; perhaps it was Elladan's life that Erestor had decided to sort out. But Legolas did not think that Elladan was in danger of making the same choice as Arwen, he was simply enjoying Imrahil's company, his physical presence, his undoubted allure. Legolas did not think that Elladan needed rescuing from Imrahil, but he thought perhaps Erestor did. He was about to approach Erestor when another came quickly into his line of sight: Haldir came running lightly down the steps of the Hall of Merethrond, where most of the feasting and entertainment had been held.

Quickly Legolas dipped behind a hedge and waited until Haldir passed for Haldir had already accosted Legolas earlier in the evening and the encounter had been unpleasant. His touch on Legolas' arm had been intimate, overly-intrusive. And Legolas had only just left Elrohir and was vulnerable, bewildered.

'Well met, Legolas.' Haldir had smiled, letting his gaze drift sensuously over Legolas' body. 'I was told that you are with Elrohir Elrondion, but here you are, on your own.' He had made it sound like Legolas was vulnerable and lost. 'But perhaps I have misheard.' He had brushed his fingers lightly over Legolas' hand and leaned forwards, his eyes calculating, inviting. 'I have thought of you often.'

Legolas had pulled his hand back like he had been bitten. 'I have been too busy to think of you,' he had said tersely.

'Well you are not too busy now,' Haldir said with a smooth smile.

'I will always be too busy to see you, Haldir,' hissed Legolas quietly.

Haldir had drawn back a fraction, as if surprised although Legolas did not think he was in the least, and without another word, Legolas strode away from him. He had been relieved that Haldir had not followed him.

Haldir looked like he was going somewhere with purpose and Legolas hoped it meant he was leaving the Citadel and returning to the Elves' camp in the woods around the foot of the Mindolluin. He did not want to see Haldir ever again.

When the Fellowship had stumbled, shocked and in grief, into Lothlorien, Haldir had shown them great kindness. He had invited Legolas to join him and shown him the Golden Wood's secrets and glories. It was a wondrous place and Legolas had indeed found his grief for Gandalf soothed. It had started innocently enough between him and Haldir, with a casual encounter that ended in sex, passionate, vigorous, enjoyable, for Haldir was a very skilled lover and at first, Legolas had learned things that he looked forward to taking back with him to the Greenwood. But Haldir had a darker side to him, his taste had mingled pleasure and pain in ways that had at first intrigued and excited Legolas, showing him how in sex there could be both. But Haldir had gone too far and for Legolas, there started to be more pain than pleasure. There had been an occasion where it had gone too far and Haldir would not stop when Legolas wanted him to. It had shocked Legolas. He had quickly become cautious around Haldir and so took Gimli with him often. The Dwarf did not know the reason for Legolas' sudden desire for Gimli's company but Legolas was glad of the friendship they had begun on the banks of the Anduin*.

'Ah ha! Legolas! there you are!' Gimli came towards him, purposefully. He grinned at Legolas, a ruddy flush on his cheeks and his deep brown eyes warm and cheery. 'Pippin has been asking where you were.' Legolas was relieved to see Gimli and willingly went him to find Pippin.

The doors of the Merethrond were still wide open and the warm Summer air drifted in. But inside it was hot and stank of alcohol. A fug of pipeweed hung over one corner and there was loud singing and banging of tankards and cups on tables.

'There he is!' shouted Pippin rather loudly for such a small person. 'Leg'las! C'mon.' He beckoned to Legolas and stumbled a little as he did. 'Mer…Merry says….' He turned drunkenly to an equally drunken Merry, who appeared rom somewhere and was swaying unsteadily. 'Merry says…what d'you say again?'

'I said you're drunk…an' it's disgraceful.' Merry said, with a tremendous attempt at seriousness. 'We are representi' the Shire an' you're just …Stand still Pip. You're swayin terribly.'

'I don't think it's me, Mer. I think it's you.' Pippin followed Merry closely, squinting in concentration. 'Yup. You're…well I think you're going t' fall over.'

And sure enough, Merry began to topple slowly. Gimli caught him before he fell.

'Now then, Leg'las, I have sworn to drink our goo' friend, Gumli, into…something or other.'

Merry peered up at Legolas with one eye closed. 'Can you stand still please, Legolas. I canna' see you while you wobble like that.'

'Ho, I think it's time you went home, Merry.' Gimli steadied Merry's arm and Legolas caught Pippin as he stumbled forwards.

'Nonsen'. I have only just got goin',' said Merry in a lordly tone. 'It's Frodo that can't keep his drink.' He looked around glassily. 'Where is Frodo?'

'He went home ages ago, Mer,' replied Pippin helpfully. 'It's because you are so drunk that you didn't realise. But look! Here's Leg'las to help us finish all this food, an' all this beer. And Glimli.' He frowned at Gimli. 'You're so helpful, Glim... Glimli. You're always there. An' Leg'las.' He tried to throw his arm around Legolas' shoulder but succeeded only in falling against him. 'You're a great fella' Leg'las. Always runnin and jumpin an' looking after us.' He waved his pint glass around and beer sloshed over all of them. Neither Legolas nor Gimli were quick enough and beer sloshed over both of their rich tunics.

'Gah, Pippin!' cried Gimli in mild annoyance.

'Oops,' Pippin made a face that he clearly meant to be apologetic.

'Come on, you two. Time to go home.' Gimli took Merry's arm. But Pippin swayed dangerously and fell into Legolas who took Pippin's other arm.

Together they navigated the Hobbits' way through the hall, past other drunken guests or guests who had slumped over chairs or the table and snored. They passed a couple of Elves, leaning against each other and singing a bawdy song about Elbereth. One of them was Erestor.

Pippin belched loudly.

Merry cried, 'F'shame, Pip! Your manners are worse 'n…worse 'n…' He looked around for inspiration and his gaze alit upon Legolas. 'Worse 'n Leg'las.' He swayed dangerously. 'Leg'las, I love you, but you have got the worst table manners. I am sorry.'

'Apology accepted.' Legolas bowed seriously.

'But you have the appetite of a Hobbit, and for that, my fren', I salute you!'

Gimli tutted and hefted Merry's shoulder over his. 'Come on, Legolas. let's get them home.'

Between them they half carried the cheerfully drunk Hobbits away from the thinning crowds of revelers. Many cried greetings to them which the Hobbits responded cheerfully and drunkenly to the merriment of all for it was an occasion of great joy, and for the Elves there had not been this coming together of the kindreds for many, many long years.

'G'night everyone!' Merry turned and called across the gardens of the Palace. And then he turned his head towards the Palace itself and hollered loudly, 'Night Aragorn! Thank you f' havin' us. We had a…' He hiccupped and clapped his hand across his mouth comically.

'We had a lovely time!' Pippin finished for him.

Gimli cheerfully hefted an arm under Merry's shoulder and Legolas held Pippin's arm. Giggling, the two Hobbits were escorted by their friends out of the Palace gatehouse, the scene of such recent rebellion, and along the quiet square. There were small groups of young Men in the Square, drinking. Rohirrim and Gondorian. They fell a little quieter when they saw the Elves, Dwarf and Hobbits, for there was still an awe amongst the Men of the city for Elves. But one or two of them called a cheery greeting and almost all of the bowed or took off their caps as they passed. Merry and Pippin were no quieter as they walked through the almost empty streets back the House of the Fellowship.

After they had dumped Merry and Pippin on their respective beds, tugging off their shoes and throwing blankets over them, Gimli had lit a pipe and watched Legolas carefully.

'I have missed camping out under the stars,' said Gimli slowly, earth-brown eyes watching Legolas. 'Tomorrow, Legolas, we are going to fetch Arod, and we will ride beneath the trees along the edges of the mountains. I have looked at a map with Aragorn and he has suggested the best places that we might camp on the way there. One night only unless we want to stay for longer.' He patted his pocket. 'I cannot leave before midday for I must deliver something to Gandalf. If you want to, that is. You may, of course, have other concerns.' He puffed on his pipe casually and sent a thin stream of grey smoke into the air.

Suddenly Legolas realised how very much he wanted, needed to do this. He wanted to be away from everyone, everything. He wanted to escape the looks, the pity. 'Very well, Elvellon. Elrond told me to visit him in the morning but if this will ease your heart I will accompany you to make sure you do not fall off.' He did not really register that it could not have been fireworks that Gimli had been working on, as the Hobbits had thought, and Gimli did not elaborate.

Tbc