The Last Homely House
Chapter Three

Rating: PG
Category: Humour, Drama, AU
Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit, Legolas/Gimli
Warnings: Slash (means: two male Elves in some kind of love) Mpreg
Summary: Answering King Thranduil's call for help, a party leaves from Rivendell to Mirkwood - Glorfindel is not happy to leave Erestor behind. Meanwhile, we learn how Mauburz ended up in Rivendell, and Rumil tries his best not to become Rabbit's stew.
Notes: The timeline for this story takes place roughly three months after ‘Good Morning Imladris,’ and two months after ‘Fair Days and Nonsense at the Sign of the Sleeping Marmot.’

The day after the Messenger from Mirkwood arrived, Elrond gathered his small household together to decide what to do.

There was no doubt they had to answer Thranduil’s plea. The King of Mirkwood had not asked for help lightly. Ordinarily, he could have handled the problems within the darkened wood himself. However, many of his folk had left for the Havens, and the Orcs that had no place else to go were filling his wood. The spiders had preyed upon many of these Orcs, and were in greater numbers than they had ever been. Finally it became clear that aid was needed.

Elrond looked at the small group. There were only twenty of them, but that number accounted for much. There were many great warriors before him; Haldir of Lothlórien, who had survived Helm’s deep, Prince Legolas, who had fought before the Black Gate, and then, of course, Glorfindel. The problem was all had reasons for not wanting to go.

“It will only be for a short while,” said Elrond, trying to gently cajole them into agreeing.

Legolas sat cross-legged on the floor before Gimli, who was perched on a chair. He looked over his shoulder at the Dwarf.

“It will be only a brief campaign,” Legolas said.

Gimli curled his lip. He did not want to parted from his lover and best friend, but knew well what Thranduil would do should he find out his son was spending his nights with a Dwarf.

“I suppose I could live without you, for a little while,” grumbled Gimli.

Orophin raised an eyebrow. “This from a Dwarf who once told my brother to take his bow and shove it where only a Healer would look?”

Gimli grumbled into his beard and said nothing further.

“I am not going,” said Glorfindel, “I cannot go! How can I? There are but five weeks before Erestor and I have a child. And I am to go dancing off to Mirkwood to fight spiders? No.”

Erestor raised his head. He was in his usual seat next to Elrond, looking wasted and tired.

“Fin, you know you must.”

Glorfindel raised his head, blue eyes sharp. “I am not leaving you.”

“Your skill will make the campaign all the shorter.”

“And what about you?”

“Well I have Gimli, and Rabbit. I thought the three of us would take up cliff diving.”

“Rabbit is in no condition to be taking care of you.”

Erestor sighed. “Oh Fin just go, and spare me the days of angst that will invariably follow if you stay. And bring me back some spider legs.”

“Since when do I take orders from you?”

“Do not make me get the scroll case.”

Glorfindel glared at him, then looked towards Elrond. “How long will this take?”

“Four weeks, no more,” said Elrond.

“Fine.” He looked towards Erestor once more. “I will get you your wretched spider legs. And you are not, under any circumstances, to deliver without me here, do you understand?”

“That goes double for me!” said Gimli.

“It does raise a point, though,” said Haldir. “If we are going to fight Mirkwood spiders, we will need the skill of Lord Elrond and his sons both. Who then shall stay with Rabbit and Erestor? Gimli has a good heart, but little skill as a healer.”

“I will stay,” said a soft voice. Haldir looked over at Rúmil. “I will stay,” he repeated.

“Oh no,” said Glorfindel. “Not with my husband and child you will not.”

“I have acted like a fool,” said Rúmil. “There is no arguing that. And I almost cost my brother his lover, and my niece her mother. But grant me this chance now. I have healing skills, and I am not as experienced a warrior as those gathered here.”

“Gimli and I will be here to watch over him,” said Rhimlan. “It is no secret I am not going, though none have said as such.”

Haldir reached over and took the hand of the crippled Elf. “You know I would take you if you were able.”

Rhimlan smiled at his captain. “I know. But the time for fighting for me is past. I must learn other skills.”

“You will fight again one day,” said Elrond. “I will see to it.”

“I hope indeed you can, Lord Elrond,” said Rhimlan. “I have no abilities as a bard, and no urge to sweep halls.”

“But you are undefeated at Tablero,” said Orophin.

“Only against you.”

Glorfindel looked displeased. “Erestor…”

“Fin, we have six weeks. You will be back by then.”

“I have not even had a chance to paint the nursery pink!”

“Good! Gimli has agreed to paint it a nice green with yellow trim.”

“I wanted pink.”

“Fine. When you become pregnant, we will paint the nursery pink.”

“What wrong with pink?” asked Mauburz. “Mauburz like pink.”

“Good,” said Glorfindel, “Whatever the Dwarf does, paint over it.”

The Messenger from Mirkwood, a young Elf named Aquila, finally dared to speak. “My Lord Elrond, is… that an Orc?”

“No,” said Mauburz. “Me not no stoopid Orc. Me Elf. Had unfortunate accident.”

Aquila plainly had his doubts about that, but said nothing further. Elrond rose to his feet and looked at the small gathering.

“So we are agreed, then, to lend aid to King Thranduil?”

“Aye, we shall go,” said Glorfindel. “We cannot let the old crank be eaten in his own realm.”

“Just because he’s too stubborn to leave it,” muttered Legolas quietly. He looked at Gimli once more. “I will be back as soon as I am able.”

Gimli gently stroked his hair, unable to voice his thoughts. Across the room, Elrond said; “We depart in the morning.”

***---***

The storm that had begun the day Rabbit was shot had yet to let up. The horses did not want to be out in it, the Elves did not want to be out in it, not even Mauburz wished to face the slashing rain and wind. The only one who would have enjoyed it was currently bed-ridden with an arrow wound.

Haldir sat on the bed, reaching down to touch Rabbit’s black hair. “I shall return as soon as I am able.”

“I wish I was going with you.”

Haldir kissed him gently. “Erestor needs you, as does Bramble.”

The small child was under the covers near her mother, where she had been since Elrond finished patching the gaping wound in his side. Hearing her name, she pulled back the covers and looked at her father.

“Where going?”

“I have to help King Thranduil squish some spiders.”

“Why?”

“Because there are too many for him to squish by himself.”

She did not look pleased with this answer, but accepted it. “When coming back?”

“As soon as I can.” Haldir gave her a kiss, then looked at Rabbit. He kissed him softly, then said again; “As soon as I can.”

Rabbit nodded, then watched Haldir leave their chamber.

***---***

“Wars, I have endured,” said Orophin, “and friends I have lost. Kingdoms I have seen fall, yet before me is the saddest sight of all my long years. Prince Legolas crying over a Dwarf.”

“No, I do not agree,” said Amrun, an Elf who had long dwelled in Imladris. “I believe the saddest sight is the Orc crying over Lord Elrond.”

“I think Lord Elrond crying over the Orc is sadder than that,” said Rúmil.

“Master Erestor soaking wet and well nigh eight months pregnant is pretty sad,” said Elrohir.

“The whole foul day is sad!” said Elladan. “Let us get underway so that we may end this!”

Legolas managed to release Gimli, then stepped a few paces back, moving towards the grey horse they had shared since Eomer had given it to them on the plains of Rohan. Arod seemed puzzled as to why Gimli was not going as well, and waited for him to approach. Legolas paused and looked back at the hairy, bedraggled figure, standing in the pouring rain, then ran towards him, kissing him hard and passionately before once more returning to the horse. He spoke softly to it, then climbed onto Arod’s wet back.

Elrond finally managed to extract himself from Mauburz’s iron embrace, assuring her that he would be back soon and in one piece. She finally let him go, then stood mournfully in the rain, watching him mount his horse.

Erestor stood under his blue cloak, the rain increasing the weight dramatically. He kissed Glorfindel, then lay his head upon his breast. “Be careful. Please, be very careful.”

“Oh do not fret darling, they are only spiders.”

“Spiders, wargs, Balrogs…”

“I am not going to be defeated by a spider.”

Erestor kissed him softly. “Just come home.”

“I will be back before you miss me.”

“Too late.”

Glorfindel bent his head to kiss Erestor. “I will be back. With the spider legs.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Cretin.”

Glorfindel kissed him again, then turned to run through the rain to his new horse, a large beast he had acquired in Rohan after Asfaloth was killed. Estel had given the horse to him, out of his own stable, a young, restive and unnamed beast the colour of a moonless night. He had been tempted to name the beast ‘Erestinker’, out of revenge for what Erestor had named his three crows, but finally named the beast ‘Ithil’, which meant ‘Moon.’

“It’s a black horse,” Aragorn had pointed out.

“I could name it ‘Estel.’”

“’Ithil’ is a good name for a horse.”

“Or Elessar, or Aragorn, or Strider, or…”

“Glorfindel, I do believe that you are the first of your kind to lose your mind.”

“Well one needs a mind to lose first.”

Glorfindel climbed onto Ithil’s back, and looked through the pounding rain at Erestor. He was slowly drowning under a mash of blue hair. “I shall bring you back a new cloak.”

“I like this one.”

“It looks like a dead blue badger.”

“You would know, love.”

He gazed at Erestor for a long moment, then turned his horse and rode out of the courtyard, followed by Elrond and the other Elves. Soon the area was deserted, save for Mauburz, Erestor, Gimli, Rhimlan, and Rúmil. They stood in the rain, listening to the sound of hoof beats fade. Then they turned and walked into the house.

Legolas looked up as he felt Elrond’s hand upon his shoulder. The young Elf blinked at him with wet eyes. Elrond smiled. “You will be back together before you know it.”

Legolas looked over his shoulder towards the house, then back at Elrond. He sniffed. “You will not tell my father, will you?”

“Not if you do not tell him about the Orc.”

Legolas grinned. “Agreed.” He glanced back to the house, though he could see it no more. “Ada would have a fit if he knew I was bound to a Dwarf.”

Elrond’s eyes grew large, and his jaw dropped. “Bound?!”

”A month now.”

“And your father does not know?”

“I do not believe that Gimli even knows.”

“Child how under the sun did you manage that?”

“Well it is, as you know, a very personal and private ritual, and Gimli is not well-versed in Elven custom, so…”

“Ai! Elbereth! I am running the first madhouse for Elves in the history of Middle-Earth!”

“Just now he figures it out,” said Glorfindel.

Elrond gave Legolas a hard look. “Child if you were mine I would put you over my knee.”

“Please Lord Elrond, I am bound now,” said Legolas, a glint in his eye.

Elrond shook his head, raising his eyes to the dark sky. “Ai! What did I do to deserve this? You are at some point going to at least tell the Dwarf, are you not?”

“Well I thought I would ask him first and see if he agrees.”

“And your father?”

“Oh Ada does not need to know every small detail…”

Elrond sighed and shook his head. “Well when he finds out, you had best have on a very well-made set of armor!”

“You will not tell him?”

“Oh no, have no fear of that! I would not be anywhere near that explosion for the sake of anyone or anything!”

Legolas gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Lord Elrond.”

“Do not thank me, child. Just tell me what flowers you would like at your funeral.”

Legolas smiled nastily, his nose crinkling. “Dwarven Rock-Heather.”

“Cheeky little brat, aren’t you?” said Glorfindel.

***---***

Excerpt from Glorfindel’s campaign diary;

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, lovely rain, wonderful rain. It is wet, it is dark, and have I mentioned the rain? It is raining. Interesting to watch those who have been on campaign before from those who have not. Haldir, Orophin, and the Lothlórien Elves are asleep, no doubt pleased it is only spiders we march against rather than the hoards of Helm’s Deep. Lord Elrond, Prince Legolas, and the Imladris Elves are mostly asleep.

Elrohir, Elladan, and Amrun are sitting, weapons drawn, crowded together beneath a tree, looking like three lost kittens. Amrun is a beautiful young thing. His name means ‘Sunrise,’ and his hair is the colour of dawn, going down his back like a golden-red waterfall. Especially now, with the dripping rain adding to the effect. I have noticed Elrohir and he spend a lot of time comforting each other. I have also noticed Elladan is jealous, in the manner only a twin can be. I think Amrun is beginning to wish he was twins.

A week’s travel, and we are almost in Mirkwood. We would have made better time if the rain would stop. Have I mentioned the rain? It is raining. We should reach Mirkwood’s eves tomorrow, late afternoon at worst. Actually we should have just sent the messenger back with a few casks of Mauburz’s Eau d’Mordor and have done with it. But no, here we are like some silly twits in the mud going to save a King we all have reason to be annoyed with. But he is an Elf, and we are kin, and so on and so forth, blah blah blah.

Have I mentioned the rain? It is raining. I miss Ecthelion. He was a mad little thing. They never mention that in the history. Dear, mad, beloved Ecthelion. He once tied my feet together and then stood outside the tent and shouted; “BALROG!” I nearly broke my neck. For that matter I nearly broke his. I wish he was here. He would right now be working on terrorizing the three wet kittens.

Forgive me Erestor, I only thought about you 1,578 times today. I shall try to do better tomorrow.

***---***

Rúmil heard the growl the moment he stepped into the room, a deep, ominous rumbling from the throat of the lupine creature on the bed. Bramble growled also, a higher, almost kitten-like sound. Rúmil stepped closer, and the growl became a hissing snarl. He swallowed.

“No need for that,” he said quietly, “I have only come to check your bandage…”

Rabbit went up on all fours and made a roaring sound that sent him scrambling out of the room. He slammed the door behind himself and looked at Gimli. “This is not going to be easy.”

The Dwarf was chewing on a turkey leg. “You shot him, you fix him,” he said.

“You go in first, he likes you.”

“Hah! Since when? All right, I’ll try.” Gimli opened the door and stepped into the room. “Now, now, we are only trying to help. Mind your manners. And how are you today? Hello Bramble, guarding mummy are you? You’re a brave girl.”

Rúmil waited for the sound of Gimli being torn limb from limb, but it did not come. He opened the door and peered into the chamber. Bramble was sitting on Gimli’s lap, sharing his turkey leg. Rabbit was peacefully stretched out, ignoring him. Rúmil stepped into the room.

Rabbit opened one eye and stared at him coldly. Rúmil froze beneath the yellow-green gaze, his chest tightening. By the Valar, he feared that creature. How could Haldir not, how could any fair being not fear Rabbit? Then there was his child, no soft cooing babe to be cuddled and breast-fed, no, not her. She had emerged from the womb with a full set of teeth and a taste for raw fish. By the time she was a week old she had taken her first step, by the age of one month spoken her first word. Now at the age of five months she kept up easily with the adults around her. All ready for a life roaming the Dead Plains with her fell mother. Ai Elbereth, that was where the Orcs gained their stamina.

He swallowed, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, but knowing in his heart this demon-elf already could smell it, could hear his heart pounding, could perhaps even hear the blood rushing through his veins. “I am only here to help,” he said softly. “I am sorry for what I have done. I believed you meant to harm my brother. Had I known you were but playing, I would have never fired upon you.”

Gimli picked up Bramble and moved out of the way, not wanting to be caught in the middle should Rabbit decide to go for Rúmil. He sat on a chair with the little girl on his lap, amusing her with a few old Dwarfish rhymes he had learned as a lad.

Rúmil approached carefully, watching the demon-elf for the slightest sign of movement. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, could feel his chest constrict as he forgot to breathe. He sat down on the bed, and reached for the bandage. His hands shook ever so slightly, but he managed to get it off. The wound beneath was ugly, but showed no sign of infecting. Rúmil carefully applied salve to it, then put on a fresh bandage. Rabbit meanwhile had not moved and inch. Finally, he sat back.

“There,” he said, “I…”

Rabbit lunged full at him, teeth audibly snapping closed just a hair’s breadth from his throat. He actually felt the saliva touch his flesh. He flung himself off the bed and out the door, not stopping until he was in his own chambers, where he sat, sobbing on his bed.

The door opened, and he recognized Rhimlan’s limp as he crossed the floor towards. He felt him sit down next to him. “Rúmil, are you all right?”

He nodded, still crying. “I am so afraid of that thing of my brother’s, Rhimlan you have no idea how much I fear it.” He raised his head to look at the battered warrior. “Why do you not?”

“I traveled with him to Helm’s Deep. I fought beside him. He is a strange and fearsome being, but I have noticed that Rabbit returns what he is given. If you give him kindness, he returns it, albeit shyly. If you give him hate and pain, he returns that too. Remember Rúmil, you hated him first.”

Rúmil shook his head. “I know, and I have done nothing to make him love me since then. Perhaps if I could get past his teeth I might find something endearing.”

“There is much about Rabbit that is endearing. But first you must stop looking at him as a thing. It is very hard, Rúmil, to be judged by how one appears.”

Rúmil looked at Rhimlan, recalling how handsome he was before Helm’s Deep, before the Orcish blades had disfigured him and the teeth of a warg had crippled him. Much of his face was covered by a large leather patch, embossed in Mithril with the emblem of Helm’s Deep. Beneath the patch were scars too gruesome to stomach.

“Did you know I once had a family?” Rhimlan asked. He laughed. “Every Elf in Lothlórien knew me and my eight little ones. My lover and I had been bound for a thousand years. When I came back from the Deep, she took one look at me and was sick. She unbound herself from me, told the children I was dead, and fled to the Havens in her shame at not being able to love me as I was.”

“I am very sorry, Rhimlan, I did not know.”

Rhimlan’s one good eye shone wetly as he touched Rúmil’s face. “Try to look past the teeth and the yellow eyes. There is an Elf beneath all that black hair, believe it or not.”

Rúmil laughed. “I will try.”

“Good.” Rhimlan rose to his feet, slowly, painfully. Rúmil helped him to stand, then watched him leave. He sighed heavily and shook his head. The old warrior was right, he was judging Rabbit without really knowing him. The problem was he did not think he was ever going to get a chance to change his opinion.

***---***

Rhimlan limped to the kitchen, having to pause occasionally for his pains to subside. Lord Elrond had been working on him well nigh continuously since he had returned from the Havens to Imladris He was very grateful, but it was hard to look in the mirror and see what he had become. He was not beautiful anymore, he was not graceful, and most of his eyesight was gone. His left eye had only partial vision, and his right eye had been torn out. Much of the flesh around the eye had been torn away as well, and Rhimlan went nowhere without his patch. His crippled right arm and his lame right leg he could tolerate. But his face he would show no one. His one redeeming feature, he felt, was his long, heavy, copper-coloured hair, and he kept the left side braided back, but allowed the right side to fall loose.

He limped into the kitchen, and found Mauburz there. She was drinking tea while chewing on an apple, laboring through an Elfling’s book of beginning Elvish. He had to admit, she was doing very well learning to read and speak Elvish; she was more intelligent than he ever would have credited an Orc.

He poured himself some tea and sat down across the table from her. “An apple? I thought all you Orcs ate meat.”

“Don’t like meat. Hobbits too small. Dwarves too hairy. Mortals only good with mint sauce.”

“And Elves?”

“Stringy.”

“Really. I should think we would be quite tasty.”

She shrugged. “No meat, just bone and tendon.”

“You know, I really do not want to know how you know that.”

“Bones make good arrowheads.”

“Enough!”

“You start it.”

“I am ending it, too.”

She smiled as he moved closer to look over her shoulder. “Oh I know this tale. I used to read this to my little ones.”

“You have family?”

“Well, I did. Once. You?”

“Orcs no have family.”

“Ah. Sorry.” He looked at the huge Uruk-Hai. “I am really very impressed by you, I must say.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, as though thinking she must have heard him wrong. “By me? Why?”

“Well here you are, teaching yourself to read, dwelling among folk who must seem so alien to you…”

“Mauburz no want to be stoopid Orc no more. Not like killing, not like filth. Want to live in quiet. Great Lord Elrond let me do that.”

“Yes how did you end up here? I must admit, I do not really believe you held your map up-side down and got lost.”

“No that part true. Mauburz no read maps good. Leading party of Orcs to Mirkwood. This long time ago. Got very lost. Dark, rain, other Orcs not happy. Make camp. Mauburz hear noise, go to look. Two little Elfs, all alone, sitting under tree crying. Beautiful lady Elf nearby, dead. Find out later, she handmaiden to Great Lord Elrond’s Lady Celebrian. Mauburz never find out what happen to Lady Celebrian, not want to ask. Hear rumors she taken by Orcs. Not good for Elves to be taken by Orcs. Make Mauburz sick think about it.

So there, little Elf boys, dead lady. Other Orcs take dead lady to eat. They not notice Mauburz. Took Elf-Maid’s cloak, put it on. Pick up Elflings. We go. Me carry them long time, back to great house on cliff, put them down. Then turn, and Mauburz surrounded. You Elves not know what you look like to Orcs! We no see so good as you, but see eyes. Always see Elf eyes. Bright, glitter, like little gems. Mauburz see maybe twenty pair bright sparkling eyes, all in dark. Mauburz know, she going to die. No Orc come into Elf-home and live. No can speak Elf-language to plead for life. Hah! Who listen anyway? Who listen to big smelly Orc, when all Elf-house frantic, looking for two little Elfs and their mother. So me stand, they stand. All go very very quiet. Then door open, out come Great Lord Elrond.”

She laughed suddenly. “He got look on face like can no describe! Orc? Big ugly Orc, disguised in cape, bring back babies? He speak common, he say; ‘Why you do this?’ Me say; ‘Have no fight with Elfs. No want one. No want fight, no want filth, no want to die. No want see anyone else die either. Specially not little Elfs. Too cute. Big feet, big eyes, big ears, who hurt that?’ He still looking at Mauburz like he think one of us crazy. Maybe both.” She smiled slightly, recalling the night fondly. “He cry, hug me. Thank me. THANK me! No one thank Mauburz for nothin’! Ask if Mauburz know where wife is. Have to say no, but tell him where I see body. Tell him about my group. Then he say; ‘Come inside. Talk with nice Master Erestor, while him and Lord Glorfindel go look for Lady Celebrian. Odd night. Very sad long night for Great Lord Elrond. Happiest night of Mauburz life. Me here ever since.”

She looked over at Rhimlan. He was smiling at her. “I really am quite impressed by you,” he said quietly.

She laughed. “You not do so bad either. Lot of pain, me see in you. But you go on. Not easy, face day when hurting.”

“I am certain you know that feeling as well.”

“Different pain, but no hurt no more. Happy here. Watch birds, watch water. Watch seasons go by. Learn to read, write, heal. Make perfume and oils. Mauburz might be crazy Orc, but happy Orc. More Orcs should go crazy.”

She poured him some more tea, then took some for herself. Together they sat in pleasant silence, watching the rain fall.

***---***

The spiders were everywhere. On the ramparts, on the walls, on the ground, hanging from the trees, on the bridge. The entire castle was alive with huge, fat, crawly bodies.

“It would seem there are a few more here than when I left,” said Aquila.

Elrohir surveyed the creeping scuttling hoards, then summed up the general feelings of those present with one well-put word. “Eeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwww.”

“At least they took care of the Orcs for us,” said Glorfindel, indicating a well-wrapped and desiccated corpse.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwww….” said Elrohir again.

“And Ada wonders why I never come home to visit,” said Legolas.

“This is going to take more than a few well-placed arrows,” said Haldir. “This is a siege. There must be hundreds! And all here. They must have cleared the forest of game.”

Elrond stared at the spread of shiny black bodies, then said; “We must pull back. If they spy us we will be done for. This will take some thought.”

They pulled back to the road, where they had a better chance of spying anything coming towards them. They cleared their horses of gear, then sent them back to the forest entrance, where they would be safer. The horses were too happy to comply. Then they sat down to consider what to do.

“There are too many to overwhelm with smoke and kill,” said Legolas, “which is what we usually do with them.”

“That may yet work if we can get their numbers down,” said Glorfindel. “But the twenty of us cannot take on three hundred of them.”

“They have cleared the forest,” said Haldir. “They must be ravenous. Perhaps if we wait, they will do our job for us.”

“The spiders of Mirkwood do not prey upon each other as a rule,” said Legolas. “But perhaps if we wounded a few, we could prompt them to begin feeding upon one another.”

“That seems to me a good plan,” said Elrond. “We shall find a vantage point, and shoot into the center of the mass. With any luck, we shall start a fight.”

Glorfindel rose to his feet, and, doing a very good Mauburz impersonation, said; “Elf no like stoopid spiders.”

***---***

They divided into five groups, and set out for different areas around the castle. Finding several trees which were high enough to give them a view of the roof, Haldir, Orophin, Legolas and Glorfindel climbed up them, and took aim on the fat scuttling creatures.

They fired, the arrows finding their marks. Suddenly three of the largest spiders began thrashing in pain. Excited by the movement and the smell of blood, several other spiders attacked them, and the creatures began turning on each other. The Elves fired again, and another frenzy of biting and fighting broke out. They fired a third time, and again the spiders began attacking. But now the ones on the perimeter had determined something was wrong. Like a gleaming river of black bodies and spiny legs, the spiders began rushing the trees.

“Run,” said Legolas, and the four leapt down from their perch and fled into the forest.

The spiders continued to pursue until, from the opposite side of the castle, more arrows sliced into them, and the perimeter spiders were forced to turn in that direction. Three more times this happened, and for over an hour the spiders were taunted and fired upon. When at last the assault was over, nearly sixty spiders were dead. But they were on guard now, and began stringing webs all around to snare intruders.

“We must find a different tactic now,” said Orophin.

“Indeed,” said Elrond, “But we have made a dent in their numbers. Let us rest a while, and see if we cannot think of another way to amuse Thranduil’s guests.”

They made a small fire, then settled back to have a light meal of rations. Above them the trees rustled, and Orophin glanced up to see what made the noise, as there was no wind. He froze, then whispered; “Look.”

The other Elves glanced up, and each felt his heart sink. The trees were alive with baby spiders.

***---***

Erestor looked at the calendar. Four weeks, he thought to himself. Four weeks of rain, and nights without Glorfindel snoring in his ear. He glanced out the window at the deluge. He could not think of a December as wet as this one had been. During the day the rain pounded against the roof and spewed in small waterfalls from the eves. At night, it froze on the walkways, making venturing outside treacherous. Erestor had not minded the rain at first, but lately it was beginning to worry him, and others. More than once he had seen Gimli looking at the cliff top and grumbling quietly to himself in Dwarven.

“Do you think it will come down?” Erestor asked.

“Hard to tell,” said Gimli. “I should like to get up there and have a good look.”

He and Rúmil had ventured up to the cliff, while Erestor, Mauburz and Rhimlan waited. When they finally returned, the news was not good.

“We could not reach the top,” said Rúmil. “It was too treacherous. The rock is crumbling.”

“Will the cliff face hold?” asked Rhimlan.

“Hard to say,” said Gimli. “But it has been deteriorating for some time. I do not know how badly. Did you check it before you built here?”

“Yes,” said Erestor. “It was quite sound. But that was well nigh two thousand years ago.”

Gimli frowned at the cliff behind the Last Homely House. “I do not think it will fall on us yet. But perhaps Lord Elrond should consider hiring a few of my folk to do some stone work.”

“I will advise him to do so,” said Erestor quietly. “How is the stone beneath us? The river is angry these days.”

“The base is good,” said Gimli. “But that will not help us if the cliff falls on our heads.”

After that, Erestor had retired to his office, where he now flipped through his calendar. Four weeks, Glorfindel had said. He should be home any day. He sighed heavily, recalling something a friend of his had said to him back in Gondolin. They had been looking down on a pair of young warriors, sparing half-clad in the morning light.

“Such beauty,” Erestor had said.

Erestor’s friend just shook his head. “Never love a warrior, Erestor. That which dances pretty on the morning grass too often feeds the crows by sunset.”

Who had said that, he wondered. He could hardly recall Gondolin some days. He shook his sadly and looked out the window towards the road.

“I pray he does not feed the spiders,” he said softly.

***---***

Rhimlan and Mauburz watched Rúmil run into the kitchen where they sat. He slammed the door behind himself and braced it with his own body, then squeezed his eyes shut. Seconds later there was a tremendous crash, and a roaring noise. Rhimlan heard the distinctive sound of wood being chewed through. He sipped his tea.

“Rabbit is improving, I see,” he said.

There was a snarl, and the sound of a piece of wood being torn off. Rúmil glared at Rhimlan.

“Yes, he is recovering VERY nicely. In another few days he should be well enough to catch me.” The door behind Rúmil shuddered again.

“He likes you,” said Mauburz.

“Oh you are very humorous today, Mistress Straggler.”

The Uruk-Hai smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“You could help, you know.”

“No he catch you fine without Mauburz help.”

“I meant help me!”

Rhimlan sighed. “Rúmil he will not hurt you.”

The door began to buckle. “Rhimlan for pity’s sake help me!”

Mauburz stood up. “Fine. You hide behind me. Me stop him.”

Rúmil ran to the back of the kitchen, eyes darting in search of an exit as Mauburz opened the door and stepped out. She crossed her arms and said to Rabbit; “Why for you try eat Rúmil?”

“I do not wish to eat him. I wish to return the gaping hole he gave me.”

“You go back to bed, stop breaking nice Lord Elrond’s house. Stop trying to break nice Haldir’s brother. Maybe you go hunt for Master Erestor. Maybe hunt for dinner tonight.”

Rabbit shifted back and forth, eyes luminous with anger. Finally he relented. “I shall go seek something for our supper, then, if you will sit with Bramble.”

“Me sit. You go hunting.”

Rabbit loped off, and Mauburz came into the kitchen and sat down. “You safe,” she said.

Rúmil sank to the floor in relief. “I care not what anyone else says, that thing is no Elf.”

Bramble came running into the room, happily climbing up onto Mauburz’s lap. Seeing Rúmil, she bared her teeth and growled at him.

“Now, now, none of that!” said Rhimlan, taking the child. “That is mummy’s job. Why do you not go say hello to poor Uncle Rúmil?”

“GRRRRRRRRRR!!!!”

“Now is that nice?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Then why do you not give him a hug? He has had a very hard day.”

“Rhimlan,” said Rúmil quietly, “you know what they say about mothers and children…”

“You are less likely to be a fest-hall dinner if Bramble begins to like you.” Rhimlan set the small child down, and she approached Rúmil warily.

Rúmil kept one eye on the door for her demon mother, the other eye on Bramble, expecting to be bitten. But she did not attack him. She sat on his lap and put her arms about his neck.

***---***

Glorfindel was in a very bad mood. He had been for several days, and no longer cared who knew it. For weeks now he had done little more than fight spiders, burn spiders, step on spiders, and shoot spiders. He had lost all track of time, and as he and the other Elves of Imladris finally gained Thranduil’s castle, he had the sick feeling that Erestor’s time had passed and he was not there to see it. Thus when Thranduil himself came forth to greet and thank him, Glorfindel curled his lip and glared. Thranduil was a proud Elf, and perhaps a little arrogant, but he was no fool. He stepped around Glorfindel to Elrond.

“Elrond my people and I are forever indebted to you. Please, my home is yours. If there is anything I can do for you, you have but to name it.”

Elrond sheathed his sword, then smiled, raising one eyebrow. “Indeed? I propose a visit to your esteemed wine cellar and a bath, for starters, and we shall go from there.”

He waited for Thranduil to balk even a little, but the King of Mirkwood just smiled. “I shall have some casks tapped and prepared, and begin your victory feast while you have your bath.” He leaned a little closer to Elrond. “May I ask what troubles Glorfindel?”

“I am not certain what, if anything, he has to be displeased about. I shall know better after I have seen a calendar.”

“I have one in my study, let us go there.” Then he noticed someone behind Elrond. “Legolas? My child, is that you beneath that grime?”

Legolas stepped forward, covered with the filth of long battle. “Yes Ada, it is I.”

Thranduil embraced his son, dirt and all. “My child! It has been too long. Oh I am so very pleased to see you.”

Orophin leaned down to speak softly into Haldir’s ear. “It would seem King Thranduil is not the cretin we have heard.”

Thranduil fussed over his son, hugging him, then laughing at the dirt that now covered them both. He put an arm about Legolas, then looked over his shoulder at Orophin.

“I am every bit the cretin you have heard, Galadhel, I will thank you not to point it out to me in my Hall.”

Orophin turned red. “I am sorry, your Majesty.”

Thranduil stared him down, then turned back to his son. He smiled. “Welcome home, my son.”

***---***

Glorfindel bathed, thankful for the chance to cleanse himself of the filth encrusting him. He had not been so dirty since he and Ecthelion had fought together. He finished washing, then stepped out of the bath to dress in the clean clothes he had been given. He stalked out of the room, ignoring the sound of the other Elves splashing and acting the fool. He sorted his kit, tossing away as much as he could, then packed. As he walked towards the front entrance of Thranduil’s hall, Elrond met him.

“You have four days.”

Glorfindel nodded, then departed. He took the reins of the large horse he had been given, and headed for the road before pausing even long enough to eat.

Thranduil came to stand beside Elrond, watching the famed warrior depart. “Does something displease him?”

“No,” said Elrond, “he has a personal matter to attend to. His first child will be born in less than a week’s time, and he would be there if he can.”

“I am sorry to see him depart. I should have liked to have made his acquaintance.”

”Perhaps when spring arrives you would care to venture from your home and come to Imladris, where we may return the hospitality you have shown us.”

“I give only what you deserve. We were in dire need. Many of my people have been taken by the spiders, and we could not get out to engage them. Had you not come to our aid, we would have all fallen. But I should like to see Imladris in spring. I accept your offer. So tell me, how has my son been?”

‘Oh I do not want to have this conversation,’ thought Elrond. He knew many people had little respect for Thranduil, thinking him merely arrogant and self-involved. Elrond suspected there was a very keen mind indeed beneath that façade. “Your son is a delight. We have all become very fond of Prince Legolas.”

“As he seems to have become of all of you. One in particular, I believe.”

Elrond stopped, and turned to look into Thranduil’s eyes. After a moment, he realized the King was fishing.

“I am certain you would know more about that than I,” said Elrond.

“Well his letters become vague on certain points, but he mentions often one name.”

Elrond knew how much Legolas feared telling his father about his lover, and doubted he had breathed a word about Gimli, let alone his name. “Which name would that be?”

Thranduil decided to stop dancing, as he knew Elrond was no fool either. “Be truthful with me Elrond. The child has said not one word about a lover, but even here, I hear rumors. I would know who it is.”

“Prince Legolas has requested I not tell. He wishes to do that himself.”

Thranduil nodded. “Then I shall permit him to do so.”

‘I can hardly wait,’ thought Elrond. ‘Legolas, you are doomed.’

Legolas meanwhile was walking down the familiar halls he was raised in, making his way to his room. He was glad to be home, even knowing he was going to have to tell his father about Gimli. It was going to be unpleasant, but he could not lie to him. He simply hoped his father would not toss him into the dungeon.

He paused suddenly, having the odd sensation he was being stalked. He listened, then glanced around. He saw no one, but the feeling did not pass. He listened a little longer, then continued, but remained alert.

He was not, however, alert enough to save himself. A door flew open and he was grabbed. Within seconds he was yanked into a room and thrown onto the floor. He felt someone sit on him as his arms were pinned over his head. He screamed.

“VEET!”

”Welcome home, dear brother!”

“Let me up now or I swear I shall hurt you!”

The young Elven woman continued to hold him down, grinning maniacally. “Oh come, Liritar and I only want to make you lovely for the feast tonight.”

He struggled, then glared at her. “Elbereth knows what I have done to be cursed with sisters!”

A second woman appeared behind Veet, an equally evil grin on her face. Their likeness to each other was striking. “I was just wondering what we did to be cursed with a sissy brother like you.”

“Let me GO!”

“In good time,” said Veet. “Liritar, get the corsets.”

“NO!”

“And the make-up.”

Legolas shrieked and squirmed, but it was of no use. His sister and her twin were more like their father than he, larger and stronger. And they never tired of demonstrating it. Within a very short time he was shoved back into the hallway once more, dressed in a pink party gown, his hair in bows, and his face beautifully made up. He stood, seething with rage, listening to the two evil females cackling within their chamber in glee.

“I come from Imladris to save you, and this is the thanks I get?”

More evil giggles. Legolas tried to burn the door down with his gaze. Finally he turned and began stalking towards his old room. He had nearly reached it when he encountered Amrun and Elrohir. They stopped and watched him go by, open-mouthed, but daring to say nothing. He stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door with all his might.

In his study, Thranduil poured Elrond another glass of wine, and smiled. “Good to have the little ones all together again,” he remarked.