A Far Distant Shore
Chapter Eighteen

Rating: R
Category: Humour, Drama, AU
Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit, Orophin/Elladan, Elrond/Rumil, Legolas/Gimli, Elrohir/Frost, Mauburz/Rhimlan, Amaris/Ilinuil, and others
Warnings: Plains Elf dentistry, angst, Elf-Dwarf snoggin’s, trashed campsites.
Summary: Fin shows Erestor his best moves, Elrond learns something shocking, Ilinuil makes a very hard choice, Bilbo faces a jealous lover, Gimli learns that love is a lot like a dandelion, and Sam has a dream while waking.
Notes: Meadbunny Rating: 5

Dedicated to LK Beagleluvr. Hang in there hon, and know you are loved.

“Let me see,” River teased gently. “Come on, don’t be such a baby.”

Fadai put his head in the air and turned his face away. River sighed.

“Come now, open wide. That tooth will not fix itself!”

On the cliff top in the soft golden light of sunset, River Laughing tried to get Fadai to open his mouth. Fadai was not co-operating. For one thing the tooth was extremely painful, for another it was clearly becoming infected, and the last thing he wanted was to expose it to cold air.

“Open thy mouth, old bastard!” said River, feigning impatience.

Fadai turned his head away, and River sighed. It would take much more than one crippled little Elf to get this job done.

“Fade come help.”

“Not I,” said Fade, lounging on the grass with January Hare. “Let the old crank sit in pain for a few more days. I relish the silence.”

“Where is Mari-Ton? He is a match for this grouch.”

“Mari-Ton is minding Mouse’s children, and even were he not, he did leap off a cliff recently.”

“Yes, I heard. That dancing hare on his chest is well-earned. Look, there is that big Glaur-Iy, what is his name?”

“Glorfindel.”

“Call him over.”

Fade gave River a look of utter astonishment. “What? Call upon a Golden Elf to help one of our own?” he teased.

River stared at him coldly. Fade sighed and rolled his eyes, but did as he was bid, standing up and hailing the tall Elf.

“Glorfindel!” he called, though with his heavy accent it came out something like ‘Glower-fin-dil’. Fin looked in the direction of the cry.

“You called?”

“I did. Sia broke a blade, and we need someone to convince him to open his mouth.”

“How? By offering to feed myself to him?”

“Nay, just help us hold him down while River yanks the tooth.”

“Oh joy,” said Glorfindel dryly.

He walked over to the trio, noticing immediately that Fadai’s face was swollen, and he was clearly in considerable discomfort.

“Hold him around the neck,” said River. “Fade can pull his jaw open and I will get the blade. It’s cracked straight in half and fast becoming infected, it should not be too hard to remove.”

Glorfindel winced. “Won’t that hurt?”

“Yes,” said River. “But we cannot find Frost and Elrohir, and Elrond is with Mari-Ton.”

“Well perhaps I can help with the pain,” said Glorfindel. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled forth a small flask. “Dwarven whiskey.”

Fadai gave him a disdainful stare. Fade accepted the flask, and before Fadai could react, jammed it into his mouth and then pulled his head back so he would have no alternative but to swallow or choke. When Fin got his flask back, it was empty and dented, but Fadai was in no shape to bite anybody.

“Oh good, he’s much more compliant now,” said River as Fadai dropped over sideways.

Fin stared at the massive Elf, now scarcely able to find which direction was ‘up’. He walked over to him and helped brace him, while Fade yanked his mouth open, exposing the broken blade. It was clearly loose; the gum having been pulling away from what was now merely infected foreign matter. River reached in and carefully took hold of one piece of the blade, and was relieved when it pulled out easily. He laid it on the ground, then reached in for the second piece. This required a little more effort, and River pushed it back and forth until it had loosened enough that it could be pulled out. He sat back with a small sound of victory, and showed the piece to Fin, clutching it in his bloody fist.

Fin gingerly took the object and fit it to the second half, gazing at the formidable object, reaching just over one and a half inches at its highest point, ending in a small hook, then sloping down to a quarter inch at its lowest point. But what truly impressed Fin was the massive root, heavily reinforced to take the impact of most quarry.

“This, my friends, is a mighty weapon indeed.”

“Keep it,” said River. “As thanks. I dare say no Glaur-Iy has ever held the blade of one of our kind while he yet lived.”

“I shall, thank you. But what now of Fadai?”

“The blade will grow back, over time. Not swiftly, but within the year he shall have a new one.”

“Well then, I shall leave him in your most capable hands.” He patted Fadai on the shoulder, and received a great deal of moaning and muttering. “Be well, old nuisance. I leave you in the capable hands of your family.”

Fadai muttered and mumbled. Fin rose to his feet and left, examining the pieces of the tooth. He was surprised to find it sharp enough to cut his finger when he carelessly ran it over the edge.

“That is indeed a mighty weapon,” he muttered.

He carried it into his room, and took it over to the wash basin, scrubbing it carefully until the traces of blood and gum tissue were removed. He grinned as he heard Erestor walk up behind him.

“Fin, what is that hideous thing?”

Fin rinsed it off and held up the two pieces. “This is the broken blade-tooth of a very large, and currently very drunk, Plains Elf.”

Erestor smiled. “So I see. And what do you plan to do with it, my beloved?”

“That, my dear dull Erestor, is for me to know, and you to find out.” He kissed him softly, then went off to the small room where he kept and cleaned his weapons. Erestor smiled and shook his head.

“Just don’t hurt yourself,” he said.

“Hurt myself indeed! I will have you know I am not without talent!”

“Oh you have many talents to be sure. Drinking, snoring, drinking some more, making babies… though I will say you are very nearly one of the best lovers I have ever had.”

Fin walked out of the small room to nip Erestor’s nose. “I will forgive that remark because I know how a steady diet of old dust and library paste addles the senses.”

Erestor kissed him, then, when Fin turned, pinched his backside. Fin spun around. He looked startled for a moment, then drew nearer, grinning, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Feeling cheeky tonight, are we darling?”

“Feeling better than I was, assuredly. Valaríamrûn is a great help. I am so glad you hired him.”

Fin drew Erestor close and kissed him. “I am glad he brings you comfort. Now if I could just fight the urge to kill him every time he looks at you.”

“Oh Fin do not be silly. How can you be jealous of the nanny that you yourself hired for me?”

“Because Maedhros, twit of a Noldo that he is, forgot to mention his dear old nanny was gorgeous. I was hoping for something short with bad teeth and pimples.”

“Oh I already have one of those,” said Erestor, kissing Fin.

Fin laughed. “Keep it up, brat, I shall make you pay for it later tonight.” He stroked Erestor’s hair. “But tell me true, how do you feel? You were very upset last night.”

Erestor nodded. “I know, and I do feel better, though I am a little weak.” He gently trailed his fingertips over his husband’s face.

Fin lowered his head so that his brow touched Erestor’s. “How weak?”

“Oh, far too weak to defend myself from a tall, beautiful, powerful Balrog-slayer. After all, I am here all alone, and the children are having their supper.”

“I see. Then you leave me no choice at all but to ravish you.”

Fin gently scooped Erestor up and carried him over to the bed, placing him down on it, kissing him firmly, passionately. He swore softly as he heard Silivren calling for him, reminding him they had a date to do a little evening fishing. Erestor laughed as Fin leapt off the bed to quietly lock the door.

“Ada’s busy, little one. I’ll be there soon!”

“Well don’t be long!”

“I shan’t be a minute!”

“You’d better take longer than a minute,” said Erestor.

Fin leapt onto the bed, pushing Erestor’s robes up over his thighs before opening his breeches.

“Believe me darling, I have no intention of leaving this room until you are completely satisfied with my performance.”

He lay over top of him, pushing into him, and, with the practiced ease of a lifelong rogue, proceeded to pleasure Erestor into madness with a speed he never would have thought possible. Glorfindel knew just where to nip, to nibble, to kiss. His hands found their way beneath his robe, one clasping his erection, the other sneaking beneath him to tease and prod his tight anus, setting his body afire with a rhapsody of sensations, all the while thrusting into him with passionate intensity.

Erestor squirmed and gasped, catching hold of the back of Fin’s shirt, eyes large, unable to grasp the myriad of sensations and pleasures flooding him. The he felt Fin draw one nipple into his mouth and that was all he could stand. Erestor cried out hoarsely, his body in complete confusion as to which part should have an orgasm first. It seemed to decide in stages, taking turns as wave after wave of ecstasy tore through him, causing him to shudder and thrash. It was all over too soon, but it left Erestor limp and scarcely able to breathe. He felt Fin thrust hard into him, his throbbing penis spilling hot fluid into his body. Then he was up, closing his breeches before kissing him quickly, drawing down Erestor’s robe.

“Love you,” he said, and was gone, flitting off to keep his date with his daughter.

Erestor lay on the bed and panted, completely spent, his body refusing to move. “Where on all Arda did he learn to do that?” he asked the ceiling, his voice hoarse.

“Believe me,” said a little voice inside of him, “you’re happier not knowing. But there was scarce a fine lad or lady in Gondolin with a bedroom window and an easily distracted husband he did not practice with!”

Erestor laughed weakly. “Grand. My husband is a rogue and a knave.”

“You left out ‘slut’.”

“Hush, or you’ll get only weak tea and scones for dinner.”

“Yes, Sia,” said the little voice mournfully.

***---***

If there was one thing Elrond had learned in all his long years, it was that stomping never meant anything good. Stomping always meant someone angry was coming down the hall, usually in a fit of rage, and usually demanding damages be paid. It hadn’t happened here in New Imladris since Glorfindel went drinking with Ecthelion and Gaelemir, but Elrond could tell by the way the boots in the hall pounded the floorboards on their way to his office that someone was very unhappy. He opened his desk drawer to see if his could find the ledger he used to keep track of his finances. Behind him, faithful Rúmil stood guard in his ancient and elaborate uniform, his twins in a bassinette beside him.

The Elf who strode into his office was an impressive specimen of Elven ugly. Perhaps Manwë had a little too much to drink that day, or some Orc parts had fallen into the cake pan. Either way, the Elf was just a little less attractive than he ought to be, and his temper did not make him lovelier.

“Lord Elrond!” he snapped as he stormed into the office.

With cold efficiency learned in the wars that had reached the borders of Lothlórien, Rúmil stepped forward and drew his sword, pointing it at the Elf as a silent warning to mind where he stood. The Elf halted, looking at the golden beauty with the sea green eyes before him, then, after a moment, bowed.

“Your pardon, fair warrior.”

“Pardon granted. Your name?”

“I am Astaldo, of the village of Snowdeep. I serve there as captain of the guard.”

“What errand brings you here to New Imladris?” asked Elrond, gesturing with his hand for Rúmil to sheathe his weapon.

“There has been a murder, my Lord.”

Elrond rose to his feet abruptly, horrified by such news. “A murder!”

“Aye, my Lord. A most horrible one, too. A lady was butchered most foully, her head cut from her body, her torso slashed open. And she was partially devoured.”

Elrond glanced at Rúmil briefly, puzzled, then returned his gaze to Astaldo. “That sounds to me more like the work of a beast.”

“Aye, a murdering beast, with two legs, and eyes of green hellfire, and teeth that cut like a butcher’s knives.”

Elrond’s eyes narrowed. “I do not care for what you are implying.”

“It is well known you tolerate a village full of these interlopers, have even married one.”

“That is all the more reason for you to watch your tongue,” said Elrond coldly. “You stand before my husband, and beside him are our offspring, now keep your tone civil when you speak of the Children of Titania.”

“Again I beg your pardon my Lord, but I have reason to believe that one of these Plains Elves has done this.”

“And what evidence have you?” asked Elrond. “I tell you I have lived with them several years now, and have found them shy and gentle. Even when they do threaten, it is just that, a threat, nothing more.”

“My evidence is this,” said Astaldo. “The night the Lady was murdered, several guards heard a strange and disturbing noise in the garden. One said it was a strange noise, which put the hair up on his neck, and made his blood run cold. He described it as a quiet, high-pitched and hellish giggling. There is but one creature I am aware of that makes such a noise when it kills.”

Elrond gave no indication as to what he thought of this, but inwardly he winced. He too had heard this noise, usually after an easy kill. It was a summoning sound, letting the Elflings know their dinner was caught. Plains Elves who had born offspring made the noise, and would often continue to make it long after their babies were old enough to hunt for themselves.

“Not withstanding,” said Elrond, “I still say it was no Plains Elf that killed this lady. I say it was a coincidence, and one was hunting in the area.”

“The wounds tell me otherwise,” said Astaldo. “There were clean and very long cuts. She was opened up as if by a pair of scissors. Will you tell me now wolves and bears are using great shears to slay their food?”

“I tell you it was no Plains Elf,” said Elrond. “They are gentle creatures.”

“And yet I hear one of these ‘gentle creatures’ attacked his husband not long ago, ripping his arm from its socket. Why do you defend these creatures? They are interlopers, immigrants from lands that have nothing to do with us.”

“Now I see,” said Elrond quietly, his voice cold as death. “You come not in search of justice, but an execution. Tell me, what is your great plan with which to solve this slaying? Is it to kill every Plains Elf you locate in hopes of finding the right one?”

“If needs must,” said Astaldo. “There is no crime in that, they are not kin.”

“They are to me,” said Elrond. “Now I suggest you depart ere you find yourself the first prisoner in my dungeons. Begone! And show yourself here no more!”

“Very well, I shall depart. But know this. Any Plains Elf who skulks too close to our village shall be fodder for the arrows.”

Astaldo bowed, then walked away. Elrond sank to his chair, looking shaken.

“I do not wish to think that there is a Plains Elf slaying other Elves,” he said. “There are many who know very little of their ways. All they know is they eat flesh, and are feral. They may think the Plains Elves think nothing of killing an Elf.”

“Could it have perhaps been Warrior?” said Rúmil. “He did try to kill his own infant.”

Elrond pondered the question for a time, then rose to his feet, giving Rúmil a soft kiss.
“Wait here, my love. I must go speak to the Plains Elves.”

“And to which Plains Elf will you speak?” asked Rúmil. “Rabbit is still weak, and Frost is at Fëanor’s keep.”

“There are others. I will speak to Mari-Ton. He is old, nearly as old as Fade and Fadai.”

“And you know where he is,” added Rúmil. “Fade and Fadai are much harder to locate.”

“There is that,” admitted Elrond. He kissed Rúmil again, then left the office.

Elrond found Mari-Ton in the garden with Mouse’s collection of children. His bruises were showing up nicely, and he was very slow and stiff, but he was certainly alert. When Elrond walked up to him, Dawn Hawk was currently stealing the flesh of a lobster out of his mouth.

“Are you in need of assistance?” asked Elrond, watching with amusement as the baby did battle with the enormous adult.

Mari-Ton growled, then released the tidbit. “Thieves, every one of them! I’ve not had a bite to eat since I arrived here.”

“Well perhaps I could fend them off and permit you to eat in exchange for some information about your kind.”

“Sounds perfectly acceptable to me.”

Elrond set the baby on his lap, offering him a piece of lobster. “So tell me, Mari-Ton, have you heard there was a slaying last night?”

“Aye, I heard. I think all New Imladris heard. That Astaldo fellow was hardly soft-spoken. So he thinks it was one of us, does he?”

“What do you think?” asked Elrond. “Do you think Warrior could have done it?”

“Warrior? Nay! Snowdeep is twenty miles from here! A run like that would require an Elf with strength and stamina. Warrior lives in a cave at the base of the cliff and picks off tame goats at nightfall. He is a lazy coward. He would not run twenty miles to save his own Sia.”

“But he came with us to save Mouse when he was in the grasp of the Buyer,” said Elrond.

“Aye, because he had to! He knew he’d never be allowed to remain in the Clan otherwise! And even if he were not lazy, I still say he would not have done it. His ancestors were all of the Heron Clan. They were clever, but they were weavers and weaponsmiths, not hunters. Mouse too is of the old Heron Clan.”

Elrond offered Dawn Hawk some more lobster. “So did all the Clans have traits particular to them?”

“Well we were all known for one thing or another, but some of the clans had traits more notable than others. Heron Clan were craftsmen, Dove Clan was known for having children the colour of ice, often with mismatched eyes. Rabbit’s Sia, Snow Fire, was of Dove Clan. That is why Frost came out the colour he did. I am of Bear Clan.” He smiled wryly. “We were big. Very big.”

Elrond smiled. “So I see. And what of Rabbit’s clan?”

“Ah, Fox Clan. Now there was a group of hunters worthy of the name. Their speed and stamina was famous throughout the land. The binding dance of Rabbit and Wolf Hunter is still told, and rightly so. I was there the day this leggy young brat dared approach the largest and oldest of our clan, none other than our Warrior.”

“I thought binding dances were only for… well… binding.”

“And so they are, but if one wishes to impress a much larger, older Elf, with experience and status, then he had best have something with which to impress him! The chase is symbolic. Sometimes it ends in lovemaking, more often it does not. It is a display. You Golden Elves dress yourselves in silks and braid your hair certain ways to let one another know who you are, and what you have done.” Mari-Ton shrugged. “We chase each other silly. Rabbit led Wolf on a twenty-three mile run that day before giving himself to him. Then they ran twenty-three miles back, chasing an Auroch, which Rabbit slew. It was an astonishing performance.”

“Astonishing indeed!” said Elrond. “But I doubt that Rabbit is our killer. Not as ill as he has been.”

Mari-Ton shook his head. “Rabbit is no killer. He never has been. It would have to be a very dire circumstance indeed to drive him to break Titania’s First Law.”

Elrond gave Mari-Ton a quizzical look. “First Law?”

“The law forbidding us from eating Golden Elves.”

Elrond’s eyes bulged, and his jaw dropped. “Wait, why would you need a law like that? Are you saying your people once preyed upon my people?”

“Well you must see it from our perspective,” said Mari-Ton. “We are hunters. Silly creatures with no horn or hide or claws or teeth to contend with are a pleasure to hunt. We had certainly never seen creatures such as you before, and you proved very nice to eat. And you didn’t migrate! We always knew where to find you!”

Elrond was horrified. “That is the most dreadful thing I have heard in years!”

“Well it is ancient history now. Manwë asked Titania to tell us to stop it, and we stopped. No Plains Elf has eaten a Golden Elf in many thousands of years, and never would again. It is more than just a matter of the Queen of Night’s laws. We are kin. We have interbred. Back when we hunted you, we did so as strangers to your land and people. Such a thing would not happen now.”

“Well I am very glad to hear that, but still confess to being shocked and appalled! However, it gives me thought. Would a Plains Elf only recently come through the gate between our worlds be aware of this law?”

“It is hard to say. If he is very young, perhaps not.”

“So it is possible this is not murder, but a creature merely trying to feed himself. In which case it would be highly unlikely he would attempt to hide the crime, since he will not realize he has done any wrong. What will become of him once his clan realizes what he has done?”

Mari-Ton used his massive blades to shear a lobster in half. “He will be taken back to the Faery Realm. He cannot be permitted to live here if he is a danger to your people. Our laws are few, but when they come from Titania, they are heeded.”

Elrond watched as Dawn Hawk got up and toddled off to go steal fish from his brothers. It never failed to astonish Elrond just how tolerant Plains Elves were of the antics of their children.

“You seem such a gentle people,” said Elrond. “I cannot tell you the grief I feel in my heart to know that we were once simply meat to you.”

Mari-Ton looked surprised. “Simply meat?! Nothing is simply meat, Lord Elrond! Meat is an offering, a sacrifice of a life for a life. Nothing that has had its life taken away to feed the life of another creature is to be dismissed or looked down upon! We ate you, yes, but believe me, it was no sign of contempt or disrespect or hatred.”

“It is just… a very difficult concept for me to grasp. That your kind fed off my kind.”

“And so it is for all creatures,” said Mari-Ton. “No animal wants to be eaten, and none know that better than the hunters. The rabbit wishes to be slain no more than the Elf, and one’s fear is as real as the other’s. We all feed off someone’s kind, every rabbit or deer or auroch is some mother’s child, and some beast waiting in a den will never see their mate again. Why is it worse to eat one than the other?”

Elrond sat in silence, thinking hard upon Mari-Ton’s words. Finally he patted him on the shoulder and rose to his feet.

“Thank you, Mari-Ton. It has been a very humbling experience speaking with you.”

“Has it been helpful?” he asked.

“It has. Unless I learn something new, I shall put this matter of the slain lady down to a rather unfortunate cultural misunderstanding. And then I think I shall swear off meat. I am a healer. I should have realized the hypocrisy of healing with one hand and denying beasts their family with the other.”

Mari-Ton watched Elrond depart, then lowered his head to let Dawn Hawk steal his lobster.

***---***

Ilinuil watched the sun set, wrapped in a patchwork blanket. He gazed at the gulls as they dove in the darkening waters, the world turning to shades of indigo. He accepted a cup of tea when the Dwarf passed it to him, saying nothing as he seated himself beside him.

“I would like to think it is my company that has kept you here all day,” said Dwarfy. “But I’ve an odd feeling that is not the case.”

Ilinuil smiled. “Your company is enough to please any Elf, and make him wish to stay near thee, but you are right.” He raised his head slightly to look into Dwarfy’s eyes. “Last night… is lost to me. I know not what we did. I know the creature that came here must have looked like me, but it was not I. That creature was a being named Harry, and he has vexed me many, many years.”

“I thought something was amiss,” said Dwarfy quietly, “but… I was unsure. What is Harry?”

“He is a manifestation of the darkness that wrought me. My mother was a dear and lovely Elf, but my father… was something of purest evil. When the storms blow off the sea, that evil comes forth, and manifests itself as a winged being that delights in tormenting me. No doubt he would have thought that to have me wake up beside you would have caused me great distress, but that is not the truth. I see no shame in having lain with you.”

“Then what does shame you, for I do not like the look in your eyes.”

“Amaris loves me,” said Ilinuil. “He has been so kind to me, far more kind than I deserve. I would do anything for him. But… I think Harry knows something that I did not. I love Amaris. But I am not in love with him. My heart cries out for Gaelemir, and the road.” He looked at the Dwarf mournfully. “I am a coward and a monster.”

Dwarfy shook his head and touched the Elf’s face, smiling. “Nay, you’re not either. You’re just a little mixed up. You’re trying to do what you think is right, instead of what makes you happy. Do you think Amaris would be glad to have you at his side because you felt it was your duty? That’s no reason to stay with anyone, unless you’re in the army.”

Ilinuil shook his head, and was about to say something, when he heard the sound of hoof beats coming down the sand, and a voice calling his name.

“Ilinuil! By the Valar where are you? I can’t fly this horse to Middle Earth so you’d best have landed!”

Ilinuil ran out of the cave, wrapped in the blanket. “Gaelemir!”

The tall Elf drew his horse to a stop, then leapt from its back and ran to him, sweeping him up into his arms, holding him tightly.

“By Tulkas I was worried sick,” said Gaelemir, and kissed his brow. “I’ve been searching since the storm let up.”

“I landed here,” said Ilinuil. He smiled slightly. “Dwarfy kept me company.”

“He did, hmm?” Gaelemir kissed him again. “How many times?”

“Oh, seven or eight at least. You know how Dwarves are renowned for their stamina.”

Dwarfy sat in silence in his favourite chair, and puffed his pipe, saying nothing, eyebrows raised. He wondered if Ilinuil had not just created a legend he would have a very hard time living up to.

“Have you any clothes?” asked Gaelemir.

Ilinuil shook his head. “Nay, Harry threw them someplace.”

“Then I will take you home, so that you may dress.”

“Then give me your cloak.”

Gaelemir passed Ilinuil his white cloak, and watched him wrap himself in it before running back to the cave to return Dwarfy’s blanket to him.

“Thank you once more for your kindness, good Dwarfy,” said Ilinuil.

The Dwarf smiled, and touched his face. “Just remember what I told ye. Duty and honour are grand things, but they are no substitute for love.”

“I shall remember your wisdom, friend,” said Ilinuil. He kissed him softly. “If there is ever anything I can do for you…”

“Just don’t be tellin’ folk it was eight times. Pick a number they can believe.”

“Very well, then I shall say eleven.”

The Dwarf grumbled, but smiled. Ilinuil ran out of the cave and into Gaelemir’s arms, pressing close, burying his face into his neck. Gaelemir stroked Ilinuil’s silvery hair, feeling a change within him.

“Ilinuil? I…”

“Do not let me go, Gaelemir. I pray you take me back and never let me go.”

Gaelemir staggered slightly, his knees almost giving out from under him. “Ilinuil, what are you saying?”

“I know it is probably too late and I am making a fool of myself. But my heart is lonely. It longs for you, and the road. I want to travel again, and be your husband.” He raised his head and looked into Gaelemir’s eyes, his own glittering with tears. “Is it too late? Have I waited too long?”

Gaelemir pulled him close, holding him in a fierce embrace, his body trembling. “I dared not hope to hear those words from your mouth ever again. I was so very cruel to you. I do not deserve your love any more.”

“Yet you have it. I see the change in you. I see it in the way you treat others, and feel it in your presence. I have missed you so very much. But I had to make sure you were not the same. And were you ever to hurt me again there will be no third chance, this I swear to you.”

“Upon my word, I will need no third chance. But there are two to whom we owe an explanation. We cannot ride off and leave them.”

“I know,” said Ilinuil. “But it will be a deed that will require more bravery than ever we had to muster before. And I am sorry for Amaris. He has been so very kind. And I do love him dearly. But it is not fair to him that my heart yearns for you.”

Gaelemir kissed him softly, stroking the long silver hair. “Then let us get you warmed, and dressed. For this night will be filled with both joy and sadness.”

***---***

“Travel be damned,” grumbled Gimli, sitting on the grass. “I’d forgotten how hard on the backside a horse’s spine is.”

“And harder still the ground when the Dwarf falls off the horse,” said Boromir.

“I meant to do that,” muttered Gimli.

“Of course you did,” soothed Boromir.

Gimli growled at him. Bilbo came bustling up, his arms filled with firewood, which he dropped into a heap near the fire.

“What fun to be on the road again! I thought I’d never get to have another adventure! I don’t suppose there are any monsters to fight in Valinor, are there?”

“Just them,” said Sam, pointing to a small group of Plains Elves, lounging on a knoll not far off. They stared at the mismatched group for a few minutes, then rose and began loping away, looking for someplace a little more private.

“We have been snubbed,” said Frodo.

Bilbo watched them go, then made his way over to a large lump in the ground and climbed onto it. He cupped his hands around his mouth and uttered a plaintive, almost flute-like sound, then smiled in satisfaction as one of the Elves broke away from the group and began bearing down with incredible speed on a small herd of wild goats.

Frodo stared at his uncle. “Bilbo, what did you do?”

“Well you know me, I adore Elves, they fascinate me. I have to know everything about them. So I just told them we were in a bit of a spot and our hunter couldn’t hunt and could they help us out.”

Frodo’s jaw dropped. “Uncle!”

“Well it’s not entirely a lie. Gimli can barely walk, and Boromir is dreadful with a bow.”

“And what do we tell him when he comes loping over here with a… DUCK!”

All dove out of the way as suddenly a herd of goats stampeded past, followed by a huge figure in scarlet-striped blue. He leapt onto the back of one goat, breaking its back and using his blades to all but sever the head. He left the dead goat where it was, and raced after the others, managing to head a few off and chase them towards his clan mates. Within moments the whole thing was over, and the small group was picking themselves up.

Sam sat up, covered in goat blood. “Well so much for this shirt.”

“That worked splendidly!” said Bilbo. “Now all we have to do is clean it and skin it!”

“And with luck his significant other won’t decide you need to be challenged for getting his husband to hunt for you,” said Legolas.

“Oh nonsense,” said Bilbo. “The Thrayre-Iyre are all as gentle as lambs.”

The old Hobbit suddenly froze as he heard an eerie, haunting noise, something between a panpipe and a whistle.

“Something wrong?” asked Legolas.

“I’m trying to think of the proper response to that,” said Bilbo.

“I suggest lying on your back and pissing all over yourself in submission,” said Gimli as something huge and ghost-white in the night bore down on Bilbo with great velocity.

“Oh dear,” said Bilbo.

The gigantic white Plains Elf was beautiful and magnificent, clad only in the lower half of a khiton, his white hair wild. His eyes were eerily mismatched, and he was clearly unimpressed with the short interloper who had dared beg a hunt of his husband when he could most certainly go do it himself. He paced straight up to Bilbo, coming face to face with the little Hobbit, sucking air and snarling, very, very quietly.

“Oh that’s not a good noise,” said Boromir.

“Do not draw your sword yet,” said Legolas. “It may just be display. Elrohir says it almost always is just posturing.”

“Bilbo, tell him you’re sorry!” hissed Frodo.

“I don’t remember how to! Quick, someone go into labour or something!”

Sam uttered a loud groan and fell to the ground, but the white Elf was not distracted in the least. He was far too interested in letting Bilbo know that asking someone’s husband to hunt when one had two good legs was not the thing done in polite society. Bilbo stared into the mismatched eyes, swallowing nervously.

“Oh, dear, me, what is that response? Oh… oh I know!”

Bilbo made a sort of rumbling bark. The white Elf backed up, eyes large, mouth hanging open. He coughed in utter shock, then indignation at Bilbo’s audacity took control. He snapped his blades with a noise that echoed in the night for miles in all directions, then lunged full on at the old Hobbit, bellowing like a mad thing.

“My accent must be bad!” cried Bilbo as he fled for his life.

Legolas drew his bow and had an arrow fitted in an instant, but suddenly the enormous Elf who had brought the goat was there. He deflected his outraged husband, and they circled each other, making quiet sounds to one another, plaintive little chirps mixing with purring sounds so low they were more felt than heard. Then they left the camp, heading in the direction of their companions. Bilbo flopped to the grass, panting.

“Struck by lightning! Struck by lightning!”

Frodo rolled his eyes. “Uncle you are lucky to be alive! Now promise me you will never do that again. Do you realize that white Elf thought you were a home-wrecker?”

“Me? Nonsense! What’s an old Hobbit like me going to do with a monster like that?” He closed his eyes, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. “But I shall have to put that in my memoirs!”

“You’re lucky we didn’t put it on your tombstone,” said Gimli. “‘Here lies Bilbo Baggins. He was eaten by a jealous Elf’.”

“An epitaph worthy of our esteemed Mr. Baggins,” said a voice. The party looked up, and were delighted to see a familiar figure in white seated on a magnificent steed the colour of moonlight.

“Gandalf!” cried Bilbo. “I was afraid you’d miss the fun!”

“Well after wandering so long I fear I have acquired the habit. Besides, when you, Frodo, Sam and Gimli left, I had no one to smoke with.”

Legolas sighed heavily. “How grand, now I have all of you to myself.” He began helping Boromir with the goat. “Now tell us the real reason you are here, Master Busybody.”

Gandalf tried to look as though he had not the slightest idea what Legolas could possibly mean, then quickly gave up. No one would believe him anyway. “Very well, if you must know, there was a slaying last night. The Lady Alinuia was killed in a manner that can only be described as ‘butchered’, and there is some reason to believe we have a rogue Plains Elf on our hands. I thought it wise to come along in case such a creature was spied. Other than the one defending his family, that is.”

“I didn’t want his husband,” said Bilbo. “I only wanted the goat. But the lesson has been well learned.”

“You think a Plains Elf killed this lady?” said Legolas. “Wait, was she not the elleth who had poisoned Frost’s children?”

“The same,” said Gandalf.

“Then the obvious choice for her killer is either Rabbit or Frost,” said Boromir.

“Indeed that was my first thought,” said Gandalf. “But Frost was at Fëanor’s keep with Elrohir, and Rabbit has been far too ill.”

“Then perhaps one acting on their behalf,” said Legolas. “Child murder is not a crime to be taken lightly. Had Frost been one of the First Born rather than the Children of Titania, her sentence would have been swift and terrible. No less than five babes he lost because of her mischief.”

“She had been punished,” said Gandalf. “No greater treasure had she than her beauty, and when the Valar healed and redeemed Mauburz and Rhimlan, it was to her their scars and external ugliness went.”

“All the more reason for her to have hired an assassin to level a poison dart at Rabbit, I think,” said Boromir. “If she had cause to believe he had a hand in this.”

“The choice of punishment was not Rabbit’s but the Valar’s,” said Gandalf. “He had naught to do with it. Still, she inflicted a heavy sentence upon Frost for no sin whatsoever.” He sighed. “Mayhap we shall never know the answer to this mystery. I will not rejoice in the death of another, but if she has done this to other Plains Elves, then our suspect list is very long indeed, and I have better things to do than chase wild Elves down for the crime of defending themselves. Smoking, for example.”

Gimli passed Gandalf a pouch of tobacco, who accepted it.

“So you came out here to protect us from this beast?” said Boromir. “I think we can handle one mad Elf.”

Something uttered a horrible giggling noise in the darkness, like demons cackling over the flesh of infants. Bilbo got up and went in the direction of the noise.

“Bilbo, have you not caused enough trouble for the night?” called Frodo.

“Nonsense! Bring my lantern and my book.”

Frodo looked from Bilbo to Gandalf. “Was he always like that, and I just never noticed?”

Gandalf shrugged. “For Bilbo, the quest for knowledge is his greatest joy. Come. We will go see these wild creatures.”

“No thank you!” said Gimli. “I see quite enough of them.”

Sam was on his feet, prepared to follow Frodo up the hill. “But these are the truly feral ones, who’ve not been to Middle Earth.”

“Well tell them it’s that way.” Gimli pointed in the general direction of the mainland.

Frodo smiled. Legolas rose to his feet. “Well I shall go look at them. I should like to see the ones that have not had to suffer the evil that Rabbit’s clan has. What about you, Boromir?”

“And leave the cooking to Gimli? Oh no. I shall go look at wild Elves another night.”

The small group climbed the low hill, finding a collection of eight Plains Elves, lounging in the peaceful evening; three adults and five children, and they had managed to catch themselves a wild ass. Two were cleaning and preparing the animal, paying very little heed to the strangers that approached. A third watched with hawk-like intensity. He was small for his kind, but he was clearly the clan warrior, despite his size. Bilbo walked up to the group, and Frodo slapped his hand over his face.

“Bilbo, can you please just stop bothering these people?”

“I’m not bothering them,” he said, sitting down. He pulled out his pencil and began drawing the Elves.

The adult Elves gave the impudent Hobbit a long stare, but soon realized he was of no danger and resumed their work. One of the older children approached him with caution, interested in what he was doing. Frodo, Sam, Legolas and Gandalf stayed a little while to watch, but then made their way down the hill to leave the Elves in peace, satisfied Bilbo was in no danger.

***---***

They reached Ilinuil’s little cottage, and the door was flung open. Amaris came running out, and flung his arms around Ilinuil, holding him tightly.

“I was so very worried!” he said. He stepped back and looked the beautiful Elf over. “Are you hurt?”

Gaelemir discreetly entered the cottage, giving them their peace. He doubted very much Amaris would be pleased with what he was about to hear.

“I am not hurt,” said Ilinuil. “But… I am ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” said Amaris. “What cause have you for shame?”

Ilinuil’s grey eyes filled with tears. “Last night…”

“Ilinuil do not weep. Whatever that bastard did to you…”

“I do not know what it is you think Gaelemir did, but I can assure you his intention was not to harm me. It was to keep me from harming you. Or myself.”

Amaris looked puzzled. “I do not understand. What happened?”

Ilinuil drew a deep breath. “You know much of me, but not all. You know my father was the Witch-King, but you do not know what that means. When the storms blow off the sea, and the night is black and fell, I am taken over by something; a being, a representation of his darkness. I cannot call the creature evil, for he seems to me more chaotic and mischievous than malevolent, but take me over he does. Long ago for some foolish reason Gaelemir dubbed him ‘Harry’. And Harry was freed last night by the tempest. He tried to make Gaelemir submit to him, and when he would not, Harry flew off to find one more… accommodating. A Dwarf. I daresay he chose thusly to humiliate me, but I am not humiliated. I am ashamed, for I have betrayed the dearest friend I have had in many years.”

Amaris blinked, jaw hanging. For many moments, he could utter not a word. “You… you went out and lay with a perfect stranger?”

“It was not I,” said Ilinuil quietly. “I have no control over what Harry does.”

Amaris staggered back a step, sickened and hurt, his heart beating painfully in his chest. “But I love you! All I have done for you, all I have tried to do! I was your friend when you had not a one in the world, I stood up for you!”

Ilinuil began to weep in earnest. “I had naught to do with it! Had you seen this thing you would not doubt me!”

“I know not if I doubt you, clearly I know nothing! How long did you plan on hiding this from me?”

“Forever if I could have,” said Ilinuil. “I could not bear the thought of seeing the look in your eyes that I see now; the anger and hurt, and the betrayal. Never would I hurt you willingly, Amaris. You have been so very kind, and truly I love you. But there is naught to be done about Harry. You cannot slay him and you cannot lock him away. He is a piece of me.”

“And you could not tell me?! Surely this is a bigger betrayal than what you did with the Dwarf! Ilinuil, why did you not tell me these things?”

“I was afraid! I feared hurting you more than anything in the world, and now… I have. I love you Amaris, can you not see that?”

Amaris felt sick within himself. His eyes burned, and his chest ached painfully. He truly thought he would die, and wondered if death was not better than surviving this agony.

“There can be no love without trust,” he said hoarsely. “Clearly I did not have yours. I could have survived any blow, had I known you believed in me.”

“Forgive me Amaris, I pray.”

“One day I shall,” he said quietly. “But now my heart is broken, and my insides sick.” He looked into Ilinuil’s eyes, then towards the small cottage. He breathed out a sigh, then said; “Nay, you do not need my forgiveness. I too had a part in this. I came to you when your life was in turmoil, and all I saw was your beauty. I stand here and demand your trust, but what trust had you to give?”

“I gave you all I had,” said Ilinuil. “And you gave me so much in return. Please, Amaris, let there be no bitterness between us. I spoke true when I said I love you.”

“I know. But long I suspected your heart lay elsewhere.”

“My heart lays in pieces. But the piece you hold is yours alone.”

Amaris smiled slightly. “Then that perhaps makes some of this worthwhile. But I wanted the whole. Perhaps I should have held back, and waited to see which way your heart would lead you, But I was jealously coveting you, like the rare and precious gem you are. Painful as it is to see this passion play reach the final curtain, a small piece of me feels the players are where they belong. And Gaelemir and Thranduil have said their goodbyes already, though somewhat more loudly than you and I have.” Amaris smiled. “Thranduil was displeased Gaelemir seemed torn between his desire to stay by his side and his need to search for you.”

“I confess I would find that irksome as well,” said Ilinuil. He stepped close, and touched Amaris’ face. “Forgive me.”

“I forgive you. I had simply hoped for a different outcome. What will you do now?”

“Gaelemir and I long for the road again. We will go find Elentar, and resume our travels.”

Amaris’ eyes welled with tears again. “Will I ever see you?”

Ilinuil managed a smile. “Yes. Someday.” He stepped closer and took Amaris’ hands, looking into his eyes. “Do not doubt my feelings for you. They were, and are, true.”

“And were Gaelemir to suddenly turn into a fish and swim away, would you marry me?”

Ilinuil laughed. “I would marry you and count myself the luckiest Elf ever to be graced with life.”

Gaelemir poked his head out the door. “I can hear all this, you know.”

“Then grow a tail and be off,” said Amaris.

“I could say the same to you, sir!” Gaelemir stepped out of the cottage, then bowed. “Forgive my intrusion, I was… worried.”

“That I would be unduly harsh, or that I would steal him from you?” said Amaris.

“More one than the other,” said Gaelemir. He walked over to Amaris, having the good grace to not put an arm around Ilinuil before him. “I too beg your forgiveness. You have shown…”

The conversation paused, and all three listened to a strange, wet noise, a gurgling hiss, followed by a bizarre rattling sound. They exchanged glances, then Ilinuil went into the house to quickly dress and grab his blade.

“You are a warrior,” said Gaelemir, “what did that sound like to you?”

“A wolf,” said Amaris. “But the wolves of Valinor are gentle beasts of nature, and do not come after Elves. This sounded like some great fell thing, foul and savage. Where would such a creature come from?”

“I do not know, but I do not care for it. Have you a weapon?”

“Nay, I did not think I needed one.”

Gaelemir passed him one of his twin swords. “Then let us share blades, since we have already shared love.”

Amaris’ famous dry wit surfaced as he accepted the blade. “Matching swords! Does this make us engaged?”

Gaelemir grinned, but the smile faded as they once more heard the noise. Then their expressions became one of pure terror as from around the cottage stepped a gigantic wolf, nearly as tall as the structure’s roof, eyes dead white, its body reeking of decay. Stinking fluid dripped from its jaws, and its teeth were chipped and rotting. Its claws were long and curved, and it had filth and rotted flesh encrusted on them.

“By Manwë!” whispered Amaris.

“Nay, Manwë had naught to do with this, of that you may be certain. Ilinuil! Your help would be most welcome!”

Ilinuil came dashing out, armed with a crossbow and sword. He gasped as he saw the horrid monster, but held his ground and levelled the crossbow at it. He fired just as the thing leapt, then cried out in horror as the bolt passed straight through it. Gaelemir struck out with his blade, but this too passed through it as though the wolf were no more than a shade. Gaelemir stared in astonishment, uncertain as to how he could fight such a beast, when suddenly the gigantic jaws closed around him, teeth like great blades stabbing into his flesh. Ilinuil screamed, then ran at the beast, the grass beneath his feet turning to hoarfrost, chilling the air so Amaris saw his own breath. Ilinuil struck repeatedly at the monster, screaming Gaelemir’s name, but he could have just as easily been striking at the air.

Amaris leapt to Gaelemir’s defence, but he had no more effect on the monster than Ilinuil. The great savage beast shook the warrior in his jaws, and the sound of his bones snapping was audible, making a horrible crackling, popping noise. It then turned and bolted, carrying him away, Ilinuil giving chase. Amaris ran after him, torn between his desire to save a fellow Elf and his need to protect Ilinuil. However Ilinuil had no need of protecting. The massive fell beast ran far ahead, leaving the Elves trailing behind, until finally it reached what seemed to be a great rolling bank of fog. Then it was gone.

Ilinuil ran into the fog, screaming for Gaelemir, but there was no trace of the wolf or his prey. Slowly the fog thinned and dissolved, vanishing into nothingness, leaving Ilinuil and Amaris alone. By now Ilinuil’s screaming and wailing had drawn a crowd, among them Glorfindel and Ecthelion, brandishing swords, as well as Elrond, Maedhros and Fingon.

“What has happened here?” demanded Elrond, watching as Ilinuil fell to his knees and howled out his anguish to the night sky.

“A wolf,” said Amaris. “I swear upon the Valar it was a wolf, a monstrous creature with dead eyes and great claws. It has taken Gaelemir! We tried desperately to defend him, but our swords did no damage, they passed through it like mist. It was like a nightmare!”

“It was a nightmare!” screamed Ilinuil. “It was MY nightmare, one I had many times. I thought it just a dream, but now it has come true!” He staggered to his feet and screamed for Gaelemir, then collapsed, sobbing. “I did this! I know not how but it is my fault! I foresaw it, I should have stopped it!”

“It is not your fault,” said Amaris softly. “How could you know such a thing would happen here, upon these sacred shores?”

Ilinuil continued to weep, his heart and soul pouring out in a silver river of tears, freezing to his skin. Elrond walked over to Amaris.

“Take him home,” he said quietly. “We will search the area and see if we cannot learn the answer to this mystery.”

“I shall call Huan,” said Maedhros. “None could track a fell wolf better.”

Elrond nodded. “Do it. Bring him here. There is something very much amiss in Valinor and I will know what it is by dawn, I swear!”

Amaris gently helped Ilinuil to his feet, wrapping a cloak about him to protect his hands from the burning coldness of his body. Slowly he led him back to his little cottage, leading him over to the small bed before starting a fire.

“I should be out there,” said Ilinuil.

Amaris shook his head. “Let the trackers work. Huan will find him. Mark my words.”

Ilinuil rocked, the blanket held tight, frozen into place around his slender body. “This is my fault, it is all my fault. Were I a better person this would not have happened.”

Amaris finished setting up the fire and walked over to Ilinuil. “It is NOT your fault, you had nothing at all to do with this! Unless you summoned the wolf, and I find that highly unlikely.”

“It is my fault! Somehow I made this happen, I know I did!”

“You did not!” shouted Amaris, startling Ilinuil. “I will not hear such things! I know not who is responsible for this but it was not you!”

“It was MY nightmare!”

“It may have been your nightmare but it was not your will,” said Amaris. “You love Gaelemir, you have never stopped. Why then bring about his doom?”

“I do not know,” said Ilinuil, his voice a bare whisper. “I only know I am tainted, like spoiled meat, and wherever I go, all I ever seem to do is bring madness and grief.”

Amaris gazed at him for a long moment, then began changing into garb suitable for tracking and hunting. “I’ll hear no more such words out of you. Stay here, and warm yourself. Go nowhere, we need one person here lest he finds his way back.”

“And what of you?” asked Ilinuil. “Where will you go?”

Amaris sheathed his sword and fighting knives. “I go in search of your husband,” he said, and left the cottage, walking into the night.

He took the offered reins of a tall chestnut horse, swinging easily onto its back. Ahead in the dark he could see the gigantic form of a great shaggy hound, wandering over the grass, casting his head back and forth over the ground. It all seemed so eerie and surreal, as if he had been transported back in time thousands of years. He looked around, seeing Elves of all houses gathered to seek the beast that had taken Gaelemir, determined to let no such monster roam their shores at will. He watched as Maedhros rode past on his great leggy red mare, clad in armour that had seen no use since the days of the oath. Then Huan raised his head and lunged forward, following a scent, and the company rode forth in determined silence.

Amaris wiped impatiently at his eyes, telling himself there would be time to weep later.

***---***

Legolas lay in the tent, his eyes closed, listening to Gimli as he prepared for bed. He smiled as the Dwarf at last climbed under the covers with him, and rolled towards him, resting his head upon his chest, sliding his arm across his middle.

“A most adventurous first day it has been,” said the Elf quietly.

Gimli smiled, the expression lost in the dark. “Indeed it has. I see now there is truth in the legend of Bilbo’s fearlessness.” He ran his hand over the Elf’s slim shoulders. “And how are you?”

Legolas yawned. “Weary, but content.” He raised his head and looked at his husband, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And what of you? Care to try out a new skill?”

“And what skill would that be, Master Elf?”

“Making love without waking up the rest of the party, of course!”

“Of course! Silly me.”

Gimli drew the beautiful Elf close and kissed him, stroking the pale golden hair. His fingers found a strange bump on the Elf’s skull, and it was a moment before he realized it was caused by the severe injury the Troll had given him years before, when the Buyer had attacked Elrond’s house.

“Do you remember me?” Gimli asked.

“I should say so, or else I would not be lying here in your bed letting you put your hands all over me.”

Gimli chuckled. “That is not what I meant. Do you remember me from before your head wound? When first you awakened, you thought it still the time of the Fellowship.”

Legolas’ blue eyes became thoughtful. “I… remember some. Very little. I seem to recall a few events, but know not if they are dreams or truth. I have some recall of you and I walking in a great cavern, with a lake, and gems glittered all around like stars. Then I think I recall Gondor in ruin, and helping to rebuild. Then… nay there is very little left of that time. I shall have to get you to tell me stories of those days, so that some day I may recall them.”

Gimli seemed puzzled. “So… you actually have no memory of the roads we travelled, or how we came to love one another?”

“No. I do not remember. I know only what my heart tells me, that my place is with you. The images are gone, but my time with you has shown me that my love for you was not born of dark deeds and times. It grew of its own choice once before, and grew again, even when a blow from a Troll drove it from my mind.”

Gimli turned so he could face the Elf, looking astonished. “You have no memory of that time.”

“Hardly enough with which to fill a page in a book.”

“Yet you fell in love with me again, stayed with me, wish a family with me?”

“Yes.” Legolas kissed his nose. “How could I not?”

“Well I must be the most fortunate Dwarf to be born!”

Legolas laughed quietly. “Sam once told me love is like a dandelion. One can rip it out of the ground, but if there is even the smallest piece left, it will grow back.”

“How very romantic. Well I can promise you, this is one dandelion I have no intention of pulling. It can grow to be forty feet tall if it wishes.”

Legolas kissed Gimli. “It, like you, is exactly as tall as it needs to be.” He slid his hand under the covers, finding a large, stiffening penis and stroking it. “And the only pulling of dandelions around here shall be done by me.”

“Well don’t yank too hard, ‘cause I guarantee you that it will not grow back.”

“And that would be a tragedy indeed,” said Legolas quietly. He moved to straddle Gimli, slowly lowering himself onto the hardened member. He grinned. “You’d have to let me take you for a change.”

“I’m perfectly happy with the current arrangement.”

Gimli brought his broad, strong hands up to rest on the Elf’s slim hips, closing his eyes and groaning quietly in pleasure. Both were very conscious of how much noise they made, not wishing to inform the whole party of their joining. They made love quietly, slowly, enjoying the intense passion that came with knowing they had to be quiet, until finally Legolas felt his husband spill in side of him, and he quietly gasped out his own passion, shuddering and writhing, desperately fighting the desire to scream. Then it was over, and he panted quietly, head lowered, feeling Gimli reach up to gently push aside a stray tress.

That was when the lovers noticed a sound; a great rumbling noise, which grew louder. Something flashed by the tent with a rush of paws, panting loudly, and Legolas heard Sam exclaim something. Then the horses were upon them, and there were shrieks from all through the encampment as the group of riders blew through their resting place like an ocean storm, horses leaping tents, dodging the camp fire, scattering small items.

Sam had run out of the tent at the first distant rumble and stood, freezing in place, realizing instinctively it was his only hope of survival as the gigantic shaggy form of Huan tore past, his coat blowing, tongue lolling from his jaws. He was there and gone ere Sam could take a breath. Then the Elves rode past, clad in ancient and shining armour, their horses barded for battle. At the head of the group rode Maedhros and Fingon, close behind them came Maeglin and Maglor, and Fingolfin. Ecthelion and Glorfindel were next, Ecthelion in his crystal-studded mail, Fin with his white hair blowing out behind him. There were others as well, perhaps as many as thirty in all, clad in the colours of their respective houses, their cloaks and hair flying, all bathed in a soft silver-white light. Then they were gone, charging up the ridge and out of sight, vanishing in an instant. Sam sat down heavily, shaken and staring up at the hill, listening to the sound of the departing hooves. Then Boromir was picking him up and brushing him off.

“Sam! Sam are you all right? Are you injured?”

Sam’s voice was choked, and his eyes glittered with unspilled tears. “Did you see them?” he whispered.

“Yes I saw whole bloody bunch of them! Inconsiderate trolls think being pretty and older than dirt gives them the right to run a hunt through a man’s bedroom.”

Sam shook his head. “No. I mean… did you see them?” The tears began to spill. “The Sons of Fëanor, hunting, and Huan leading the pack, and all the beautiful warriors. And Glorfindel and Ecthelion in their crystal armour, their hair blowing. I never seen anything so beautiful in my life!”

Boromir’s jaw dropped, and he looked from Sam to the hill and back again. “Samwise, they nearly ran you over!”

Frodo walked up to Sam, sitting beside him to put a friendly arm around his shoulders. “It’s all right Sam,” he said gently. “Just enjoy your cry. I understand.”