The Last Homely House
Chapter Five

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: Erestor is desperate and cut off from his friends - will Glorfindel arrive on time to save him? Legolas and Gimli are having secrets ..

Erestor had been unable to rest because of the pains. They were coming more frequently now, and had become more intense, but he did not think he would be birthing any time soon. Rabbit and he had discussed this aspect of the adventure at length. However Rabbit had also said it varied from person to person. One of Rabbit’s companions of long ago had borne no less than eleven children with what Rabbit had called; “Disgustingly little pain and difficulty.” On the other hand, Rabbit’s mate of yore, Wolf Hunting, had nearly died bearing their first child. After that, Rabbit had carried and delivered the next two. Bramble herself had not come forth easily, and Haldir admitted that afterwards Rabbit had been unwell for days. Erestor suspected Rabbit simply wanted Haldir to look after the newborn so he could rest.

Erestor lowered his head as the next pain wracked him. He was drenched with sweat, feeling desperate and frightened. As the pain subsided, he said between gritted teeth; “Fin, your turn next!”

He picked up Gil-galad’s goblet, and saw that it was empty. He was thirsty again, but did not know if he dared to go to the corridor for more. He waited until he felt a little steadier, then very carefully and slowly stood up. He glanced about, but saw no one. Whomever the strange Elf was who came and vanished, he was no help when it came to fetching water.

Ordinarily, it would have taken him but moments to complete such a task. Now however it seemed to take forever before he reached the corridor. It was storming as hard as ever, and all the valley was hidden in wet grey mist. It was becoming light, he could see, and Rabbit had not yet returned. Erestor did not like to speculate why. He filled the cup and drank, then filled it again before making his way back to his bed.

He lay down, but rest would not come. Pain forced him to sit up again. He was beginning to feel tortured and desperate. He could not sit up, lie down, or stand, and spent his time shifting in an attempt to find release from his growing discomfort.

***---***

Rabbit also did not rest. He paced relentlessly. He was silent, so not to awaken the others, but could not relax. In the small bedroom slept Gimli, Rhimlan, Rúmil, and Mauburz. He could hear the Orc and Dwarf snoring in chorus, and at one point Bramble stumbled out of the chamber to find quiet on the small couch. She was there now, face down, asleep, cuddling a Hobbit-doll Arwen had sent her. Aragorn, ever the quiet prankster, had included a Gil-galad doll. Where he got it, one could only speculate, but Bramble had given it to Elrond. It sat now on the shelf in the Great Hall, armed with the fallen King’s throwing dagger for a sword.

Elrond had one of his tailors make an Isildur doll and got an eagle to fly it back to Aragorn. It was currently on Aragorn’s study bookshelf, beating the stuffing out of Arwen’s old toy bear. Although there were times he would enter the room to find the bear getting the upper hand.

***---***

The sky had barely begun to show signs of light when Rabbit roused Gimli and Rúmil. As Mauburz had no skill with stone or wood, she was permitted to stay behind, while the other three made their way into the wet morning. Mauburz suspected the real reason she was left behind was Rabbit did not think Rhimlan capable of keeping up with a small child, so she was content to remain.

She heard the door close, and rolled onto her stomach, sighing contentedly. She had never known a bed before Elrond had permitted her to come live in his house. Now, she had to admit, she would not much care to be without one ever again. The first time she slept in a bed, she spent most of the night just rolling herself up in the covers, delighting in the soft mattress and down quilts. She still did prefer to sleep rolled up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, but this time she did not take the blankets and tie herself up in them. The reason was the Elf that currently slept a mere foot away.

Mauburz, in the course of her life, had done some pretty indescribable things to Elves; things that now made her sick to think about. She’d snapped their bones and eaten their flesh, and had indeed filed down their dried bones to make lethal sharp arrowheads. It had made her just as sick then, but she had said nothing about it. Orcs did not discuss any feelings other than the most rudimentary ones, such as irritation, hunger, and irritation. She simply assumed she was being weak, and it was not good to show weakness to other Orcs.

She had not realized she actually liked Elves until she caught a live one.

It was no easy thing for an Orc to sneak up on an Elf, but it did happen. Usually the Elves were young and inexperienced, or else injured. The young ones often never got a chance to learn from their mistakes. This youngster was sitting by a stream practicing his mandolin playing when Mauburz appeared out of the bushes. He dropped his mandolin and tried to flee, but he was trapped by the rock walls behind him. He darted about like a wild bird, then finally stopped and turned to face her, wondering why she had yet to kill him.

Mauburz was speechless. She had seen many dead Elves, but his was her first live one. And he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He had hair the colour of sunlight, and eyes like a pond in spring. He moved like a deer, and she could have stared at him for the rest of her life. She realized after a moment he was terrified, and she put on large hand up, and said as gently as she could, “Not hurt.”

He did not look convinced. He shivered and sweated, waiting for the huge Orc to kill him, or worse. The gigantic Uruk-Hai stepped closer, captivated by his fragile beauty. She reached out one great paw, and very gently touched him. He was warm, and his skin was like nothing she had ever touched before.

Suddenly in the background, she heard her second-in-command bellow her name. The Elf flinched, and she stepped back. She shouted a response, then looked at the beautiful being beside her. “Stay here, quiet,” she said. “I take them away.” She gazed at him a moment longer, then turned and left.

Approaching her subordinate, she back-handed him. “Can’t I take a piss in peace?” she yelled. The other Orcs howled with laughter, and she led the troop away from the young Elf. She never saw him again. She hoped he had escaped.

Rhimlan made a small sound in his sleep, and rolled to his side, facing her. Mauburz smiled. To her, having the trust of these creatures she considered so delicate was bliss. Never again would she have to harm one, or stand by as others did.

She reached out and lightly touched his face. ‘So pretty,’ she thought. She touched his long copper-red hair, then froze as Rhimlan’s one eye opened and regarded her sleepily.

“Sorry,” she said, giving him a guilty smile.

He gazed at her for a moment, then squirmed closer, resting his head on her shoulder as he draped his arm across her stomach. Mauburz brought her arm up around him carefully, and lay her hand on his side. She closed her eyes and was very still, so not to disturb the Elf any further.

***---***

Rabbit led Rúmil and Gimli on a long journey around the slide. It was two hours before they finally stood beneath the Great Hall. It perched on its ledge, almost impudent in its refusal to be knocked into the valley. It was high above them, and the path to it was now buried in loose, treacherous rock and mud.

“It was not this bad when I was first here,” said Rabbit. “The mud has continued to slide.”

“I have never seen a mess such as this,” said Gimli.

“What about the green dragon?” said Rúmil. “Could we use it to fly up?”

“If we could find her. But I have not seen her for some time.”

“I never thought I would miss a dragon,” muttered Gimli. “Could we fire a line up?”

“That is a thought!” said Rúmil. “I could certainly shoot an arrow with a fine line attached up to the window. Then if we can convince Erestor to venture out… but could he, I wonder.”

“We can ask,” said Rabbit. He stepped onto a heap of rubble, and called. Rúmil cringed at the eerie sound. It did not seem to bother Gimli. Rabbit waited for a response. Receiving none, he cried out again. Still, there was no answer.

“Erestor has more pressing duties, it would seem,” said Gimli. “I hope he is managing.”

***---***

Glorfindel nearly did fly over the floodwater, but not quite in a manner worthy of song. Ithil had been running hard down the road, and only at last moment did the black horse of Rohan realize his path was blocked. He stopped, and Glorfindel, completely unprepared, sailed over the animal’s head and into the middle of the torrent. He would have been carried away had he not managed to catch hold of a fallen tree. With great strength of will he pulled himself onto the tree and clung there like a wet and muddied rat. He looked over his shoulder the horse.

“Thank you!” he shouted. The horse looked at him and snorted.

Glorfindel looked ahead, determining the width of the flood-path. It was wide, far too wide and deep for the horse to venture. Ithil could not cross the water, and without him it would be morning before he reached Elrond’s house. He sat on the log and screamed an Elven curse, then he turned his attention to Ithil once more.

“We must part, thee and I, for awhile. Make your way to the house as best you can, I will meet you there.”

The horse watched him rise to his feet and step as only an Elf could over the logs and branches. Then he sought shelter beneath the trees, while Glorfindel began the long walk to Imladris.

***---***

The day dragged by endlessly for Erestor. He was tormented and exhausted, and as evening fell, he felt himself beginning to give up. He had been a full day without food, and only a little water. Time again he had rallied his strength, but he was running out of resources to continue. He collapsed to the sweat-drenched bedding, stared up at the ceiling, and took solace in the one small comfort he had at the moment: complaining.

“I do not,” he said, “wish to be found dead on my back like a bloated toad. Glorfindel only a child of yours could cause this much havoc!”

It was not supposed to be this way, he thought angrily. He was supposed to be in his own bed, with Elrond, Rabbit and Glorfindel to give him comfort and support. Or at the very least, with Rúmil and Gimli running about in a panic, and Mauburz and Rabbit trying to help, and Bramble swearing not to repeat this mistake when she grew up. He felt the next pain clutch him in its agonizing grasp, and he ground his teeth and swore a soft continual streak until it relented a little. Then he collapsed, panting, and awaited the next.

***---***

Legolas sat near his father’s bed, watching him as he stirred at last and opened his eyes. Thranduil looked about, as though wondering how he came to be in his bedchamber. Then he spied his son. He closed his eyes once more.

“Legolas.”

“Ada. I am glad to see you awake.”

“Then your plot was not to take my throne by having me die of shock.”

“I do not want your throne Ada. Veet would only take it anyway.”

Thranduil smiled slightly. “All Mirkwood quakes at the prospect.” He opened his eyes again and looked at his son. “You will not forsake this Gimli.”

Legolas shook his head, and said quietly but firmly, “No.”

“I should throw you out of my home, bringing such disgrace upon me.”

“Then throw me.”

“You are a rotten child.”

“I am like my father; proud and willful, and do not bend to the demands of others.”

“As I said; rotten.”

“I beg of you to not dismiss me.”

“I will not dismiss you. But I will ask why. You are a child of kings, with an honored bloodline, you could have any your heart desires.”

“My heart has found what it desires.”

“I do not approve, and know not if I ever shall.”

“Then that is your loss.”

He glared at his son. “As I said; a rotten child with no respect for your father.”

“Perhaps you would like him better if you met him.”

“Perhaps if I fell off a cliff I would learn to fly.”

“Ada…”

“Child, enough. You have your Dwarf, be content enough with him. You are no fool, you knew what my thoughts would be on this matter. Do not beg for my acceptance now, when you cared little enough for it when you began laying with him. If it pleases you to give yourself to a stone-cutter, then well and good. But I will not have you thrust my face into it when you had not the courage to tell me of this affair before it came to binding. Perhaps you are not as proud of him or yourself as you would have me think. Now leave, my heart needs mending.”

Legolas left quietly. He made his way to his room, and none saw him for the rest of the day.

***---***

Night came down, and the evening turned to the depths of night. Erestor lay on his makeshift bed on his side, barely conscious, caring no longer whether he lived or died. He was without the strength to fight any longer. The child was not coming, and it seemed neither was help. His eyes glazed over, and he waited quietly to die.

“Awake, little Duevenel.”

Erestor barely heard the soft voice that intruded, and paid it little heed. Then he heard it again, more insistent and commanding.”

“Awake, little Duevenel.”

He drew breath and raised his head. It was the pale Elf, sitting on his bed. He was looking at him with those wise, calm eyes. “Mandos calls, I know, but do not answer.”

Erestor did not have the strength to offer a retort. It was taking all his energy to draw breath. He felt the Elf run his hand over his wet, stringing hair. “Come now, you are nearly done.”

“I cannot, I have no strength.”

“You have more than you know, refugee of Gondolin. This fight is long, but not beyond you. Come now, do not relent yet.”

Erestor drew a deep breath. “I will try,” he said.

***---***

Elrond quietly entered Legolas’ chambers and softly crossed the floor to sit beside the distraught young Elf. He drew him against his shoulder and pushed his hair out of his face.

“You knew he would not be pleased,” he said softly.

Legolas sniffed. “It is not that. It is something else he said that troubles me. He said I must not be as proud of my relationship as I think, because I was to ashamed to tell him before it became so involved.”

“Do you believe that to be true?”

“It grieves me that he thinks it is! I hid Gimli only from him.”

“Yet you have hidden things from Gimli as well. Matters of importance.”

“I have acted rashly, guided by fear rather than wit. I knew that when this time came, I would not be able to claim the love of both, and then I began to fear I would keep neither. Ai what possessed me to do such a thing I do not know. I wished only to keep what I had fought for.”

Elrond smiled. “I do not think Gimli would leave you even if you told him to go. He is a remarkable person. So set in his convictions, yet not unwilling to learn and change his views. And certainly not shy about sharing them!”

Legolas laughed. “No, he is no wilting flower, our Gimli. Did I tell you how he declared his love for me?”

“No, you have not mentioned it.”

“At Helm’s Deep, on the wall in the rain. Watching the hoards march towards us. He sighs, then looks at me, and says; ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but since we’re going to die, I’d like you to know you are more fair and precious to me than all the gems and stars of this world.’”

“And what did you say?”

“I really did not have a response at the moment. I believe I said something memorable like; ‘Thanks.’” He seemed well satisfied by that. I believe it had the proper Dwarven reticence to it.”

“It is not often a Dwarf renders an Elf speechless.”

“Not without an axe being involved, no.” Legolas looked up at Elrond. “Is my father going to be well again?”

“He will recover and be his charming, forgiving self in no time.”

“He really is good inside. Deep inside. Somewhere.”

“He loves you, Legolas. If he did not, he would not care with whom you shared your life.” He kissed the young Elf on the head. “Now rest, and do not be distraught. This matter too shall pass.”

“Aye,” said Legolas, “but as Mauburz’s Eau d’Mordor does, slowly, and leaving a bad taste in one’s mouth.”

***---***

It had not been an easy plan to execute, but as dawn crept up on yet another wet grey day, Rúmil, Rabbit, and Gimli stood ready.

It was plain that Erestor was not going to be able to anchor a rope; Rabbit insisted he lived yet, though by what sense he could tell this, they did not know. Their only other option was to fire a grapple, and it had taken them most of the night to reach what was left of the armory. There they found a grapple, as well as a great crossbow large enough to fire it. The line attached to the hook was a rope Rúmil had brought with him from Lothlórien. The line was not as long as they would have liked, and they were forced to waste more time finding a way to come closer to the Hall. The way was treacherous, and they took their lives in their hands. At last however, Rabbit and Rúmil stood as close to the Hall as they dared.

Gimli watched from a safe distance as Rúmil pointed the great black and gold crossbow at the railing and fired. The hook shot up, and to the relief of all, caught and held. Just then Gimli became aware of a presence beside him. He glanced up, and saw a very wet, muddy Elf. Glorfindel stared at the cliff with a look of complete disbelief on his face.

“Where did the house go?!” he asked.

“Oh not far,” said Gimli. “Some of it is here, some there. A bit of it is floating in the river…”

“Where is Erestor?”

The Dwarf pointed to the Great Hall. “There.”

“Oh of course he is, far be it from Erestor to be in a place easily accessible. Am I too late for the birth?”

“That I do not know, but at one point we did hear him roundly cursing your name.”

“Ah nice to be loved, is it not? Rúmil!”

Rúmil turned his head, and waved at Glorfindel. “Would you like the honor, my Lord?”

“I would! Wait for me.”

Gimli watched the large Elf begin making his way over to where Rabbit and Rúmil waited. He reached them finally, then looked at Rabbit.

“Once I am up I will try to find a way to lower him. Is there any place we can take him?”

“Galadriel’s cottage still stands,” said Rúmil, “but it is a long and arduous trek now. Indeed I do not know how we will carry him back over this rock, it is treacherous enough with only ourselves.”

“We will have to risk remaining here then, for a little while. See what food and supplies you can find, I will go up and see what I can do for Erestor.”

Glorfindel took hold of the rope and began pulling himself up to the Hall. He reached it and climbed over the railing, then paused. He heard nothing.

“Erestor?” he said quietly. There was no response. Bracing himself against what he may find, he entered the silent room.

He saw what looked like a large heap of laundry in the far corner of the room, and ran to it. He dropped to his knees, and stared at the mess before him. Carefully, slowly, he began pulling back the soiled quilts, his breath catching in his throat as he uncovered a deathly white face. He touched him, and found him cold and clammy.

Glorfindel began yanking down the great tapestries. He piled them on the floor, then knelt once more by Erestor. He pulled the quilts back, uncovering that wretched blue cape. He had it wrapped about himself, and it was covered in some unguessable wet substance. He peeled it back distastefully, finally reaching Erestor. He was curled on his side, naked and bloodied, and as Glorfindel touched him he almost cried in relief when he heard him draw breath.

Erestor was exhausted, but he was alive. He was curled protectively around something wrapped up in his favorite black robe; the only clean thing in the entire mess. He reached for it, and carefully raised the small bundle. It made a small squeaking sound, and he cradled to his breast as he pulled back the fabric. A tiny face with a most befuddled expression peered back at him, and this time, Glorfindel did cry.

He forced himself to put the tiny infant down long enough to lift Erestor out of the wet and bloodied bedding. He came up like a rag, not awakening even now. Glorfindel placed him on the tapestries, then carefully set the baby down in Erestor’s embrace once more. He covered them both, then lay down facing his exhausted lover, taking Erestor’s hand in his own and just watching him sleep.

***---***

Letter from Lord Glorfindel to Lord Elrond.

Greetings from Imladris.

I know you only saw me days ago, but certain incidents prompt me to write this. Well shall I give you the good news, the weird news, or the bad news? Let’s start with the good.

The good; my most beloved and beautiful Erestor brought forth a six and a half pound advisor. We have named him ‘Estorel.’ Mother and child both doing very well, although it may be awhile before Erestor can look at me without shouting ‘WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?!’ He is confined to bed for the next few days, as is Gimli, who turned green and fell over when Erestor admitted that, as he lacked a knife, he was forced to chew the umbilical cord. I pointed out that Gil-galad’s dagger was on the shelf above his head, which prompted him to shout; “And if you’d been here you could have fetched it for me!”

Another tale to add to the archives.

The weird; our beloved Mauburz has not been idle, and it seems neither has dear determined Rhimlan. Despite each being of a race born to hate and exterminate the other, they seem to have struck up something of a timid courtship. I am not familiar with the subtleties of Orcish/Elvish courtship, but it seems to involve teaching each other their worst habits and swapping customs. Mauburz has adopted the Elven warrior side-braids, where as Rhimlan is now wearing the traditional Uruk-Hai style with his hair pulled back and tied in an untidy knot. To make matters worse they have taken to wearing each other’s armor. Frankly I find the whole thing both very humorous and disturbing.

Both of course vehemently deny anything is going on, and I was in no position to pursue the matter as Rabbit was sitting on my midriff and using those cursed little torture instruments of his to drive ink into my flesh. He and Erestor are both adamant that one of my lineage should have my warrior-names displayed. I personally think Erestor just wanted to give me a taste of what he went through. In case you are interested, my name is ‘Far-Walker of Past Lands, Demon Slayer Returned, Tale-Maker within the Halls of The House of the Green Valley.’ It goes down my left side starting on my collarbone and ending at my waist. It took 11 hours and hurt like mad. Erestor enjoyed every moment of it.

The bad; well I sincerely hope your visit with Thranduil is going well, and that you shall enjoy his company for some time yet to come, because Imladris has succumbed to the elements. A great slide of mud and stone has crushed it, leaving only the Great Hall, the stables, and your office. All have survived, and we are currently all crammed into the cottage meant for Galadriel and Celeborn. All is well; we found the Tablero board.

Frankly I find it deeply suspicious that all your personal effects and Gil-Galad mementos survived, and the nursery is dust. Seems not even the Valar wanted it pink.

On a serious note, dear Elrond, do not despair. You have more friends than I believe you realize, and we all are working to rectify this matter. Erestor and I are determined that you shall never know the pain of being a refugee without a home.

Deepest affection,

'Fin, Erestor, Rabbit, Gimli, Rhimlan, Mauburz, Rúmil, Bramble, and Estorel.

Post Script: Could you please convince Legolas to send Gimli a letter or himself or something? He has taken to staring out the window and sniffling. We fear it is but a matter of time before he begins baying like a lost hound.

***---***

Samwise Gamgee looked up from his lunch, his attention caught by the sound of a horse galloping. Not a pony trotting rapidly, but the long and steady stride of a great beast. It stopped outside the gate of Bag End, and a moment later somebody rapped a brief tune on the door. Sam looked at Rosie, who shrugged. Puzzled, he got up from the table and opened the round door.

“Sammy! Darling how’s our little fuzzy Mordor-thwarter this day?”

“Not you!”

“Afraid so. Give us a kiss.”

Rosie listened to her husband’s muffled screams of protest and went to look. Sam was in the clutches of a huge Elf, dressed in vibrant greens and yellows. He was holding Sam in his arms and kissing him. She picked up a broom and brought it down on the Elf with all her might.

“Here, you let him go!”

The great Elf turned and looked at her. Setting Sam down, he bowed before you.

“And you must be fair Rosie. Sam has spoken much of you.”

Rosie watched the Elf uncertainly. “Sam?”

“Rosie, this is Lord Glorfindel of Imladris. Lord Glorfindel, this my wife Rosie.”

He went down on one knee, taking her hand and kissing it. “My lady, you are every bit as charming as I envisioned you.”

Rosie just stared for a long moment, jaw wagging. Finally she turned her eyes to Sam.

“You mean all that stuff you’ve been spewing about Elfs and Wraiths and wolfs is actually true?!”

“Sammy! Have folk been doubting you? I shall tolerate none of it! My dear lady your esteemed husband is no liar. Indeed in many lands his deeds are sung far and wide. He is not only a hero, he is counted in the Halls of Gondor, Rohan, and Lothlórien as among the greats! Sammy! I am hurt to think you have been thought to be naught but a yarn spinner! Especially since that is my duty! We shall duel over that later. What’s for lunch?”

“Well I wasn’t prepared for Royalty!” exclaimed Rosie.

“Nonsense. If I have learned one thing about Halflings, it is that they are always prepared for nothing less than a marching army and their foes.”

Sam smiled. “This way, Lord Glorfindel. What brings you here?”

Glorfindel took one look at the table and chairs and knew he would never fit. He seated himself on the floor. “I come to beg your services for the sake of Lord Elrond. But a few weeks ago his home was crushed.”

“Oh no! That’s terrible! Is he all right?”

“Apart from being stuck in Mirkwood with Thranny the Irritable he is. Legolas is up there with him as well. And we have the Dwarf.”

“Oh that must be hard.”

“Heartbreaking. He sits looking out the window half the night, whimpering.”

Sam poured Glorfindel some tea, then passed him the bread and cheese. “Well I would do anything I can for Lord Elrond, Mr. Frodo would have died if it weren’t for him. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“We need you to do what you do best, Sam! We need you to resurrect the gardens!”

“Me!? Create a garden for an Elf-Lord?”

“We have contacted all the folk Elrond has helped over the years. The Elves of Lothlórien are coming to rebuild the wooden structures, we have some of Gimli’s clan coming to do the stonework, even Estel is coming to rebuild the healer’s rooms. And now we look to the bravest gardener of Middle Earth to rebuild Elrond’s herb gardens. Will you come, Sam?”

“Will I come? I’d be honored!”

“You’re not going without me, Samwise Gamgee!” said Rosie. “If you think I am going to sit here while you go have another adventure, you have another thought coming!”

Sam looked towards her. “Well of course! How could I go anywhere without my Rosie?”

A voice called from the door. “Sam! There’s a ruddy great horse eating your apples!” Merry stepped into the room, followed by Pippin. They paused when they saw Glorfindel.

“Run,” said Merry.

“Hello, Hobbits, miss me?”

“Miss you?” said Pippin. “The last time I saw you, you got me drunk and left me on the bed with my hand in a basin of water so I peed all over the place! You’re an Elven menace!”

“I was but defending my honour after you began referring to me as ‘Fin the Wind.’ Besides, you survived.”

“Barely. I nearly died of embarrassment.”

“We’re going to Rivendell!” Sam announced.

“That bloody ring’s not back, is it?”

“No, to build a garden!”

Sam explained the situation as Merry and Pippin began helping themselves to his lunch. When he had finished, Pippin was just reaching for his fifth piece of pie.

“Well we can’t leave poor Lord Elrond out on a mud slide,” he said. “Count us in. We’ll get the best gardeners here and set out for Rivendell.” He looked at Glorfindel. “So how did things work out with you and Master Erestor?”

Glorfindel grinned. “Better than you could possibly imagine.”

“Glad to hear it. Now you have to do a small favor for us.”

“My dear Hobbit, you have but to ask.”

“Come to the pub with us tonight and tell that wretched Balrog tale. Half the Shire thinks we made you up.”

***---***

Legolas came to stand on the ramparts next to Elladan and Orophin. As he paused, he heard from the distant road the sound of singing.

“Dwarfs,” said Elladan. “Many of them, marching together. Where are they headed, I wonder?”

“Not here,” said Legolas. “From the sound, I would say they are going west.”

“Shall we go ask them?”

“Yes. If there is trouble someplace I should like to know about it.”

The three Elves left the rampart and made their way to the ground, heading quickly to the road. They emerged just ahead of the Dwarfs. Their commander saw them and called a halt, then walked towards the Elves. He wore no armor, although he was armed with a large axe.

“That Dwarf puts me in mind of someone,” said Elladan.

The Dwarf, whatever his purpose, seemed in good spirits. “Hail, Elves!”

“Hail to you,” said Legolas. “What brings so many of you through Mirkwood?”

“Well not the scenery, I can assure you. And what Elves are doing in a place as dark and reprehensible as this… say, have I not seen you before?” The old Dwarf squinted at the tall Elf. “Sure! I know you! I saw you at Elrond’s council. You’re Legolas! Good to see you again, laddie!”

Legolas suddenly found himself in a crushing embrace, and he suddenly remembered the Dwarf’s name. “You are Gimli’s father, Glóin!”

“That I am! Gimli speaks of you all the time in his letters! Well this is a pleasant surprise! Your father didn’t send you out here to toss me back into the dungeon, did he?”

Legolas laughed. “No he did not. But we heard you singing and were puzzled as to why so many of you were marching through our realm.”

“Oh! Has no one told you? Imladris fell into the river.”

“Well, yes, I had heard. And you are going to dance on the ruins?”

“Oh, t’was a time I would have thought of it. But nay. Lord Glorfindel has sent out messengers all over Middle Earth, calling for aid. We’re rebuilding it.”

Elladan stepped forward. “Rebuilding Imladris?”

“That’s what I said, boy! Did you not know?”

“No! I mean, Glorfindel said nothing in his letter, only that Father had more friends than he knew.”

“I have ruined the surprise, then.”

“Oh we will not tell, have no fear of that!”

“Good! Not a word then. Well, we must be off. No offense, but we would like to be through here before too long.”

Legolas seemed to consider something, then said; “I shall march with you, if you do not mind my company.”

“Mind? My boy’s dearest friend? No I don’t mind! Fetch your things, we’ll wait. Could use a break anyway, I think. Then you and I shall have a talk. I would like to know if he has met any nice Dwarven women.”

Legolas looked flustered briefly, then said; “Of course! We shall discuss anything you like!”

He turned and made his way quickly back to the castle. ‘T’would seem I am not the only one keeping secrets,’ he thought as he made his way up the stairs to the floor where his chambers were.

A door flew opened, and he was caught and yanked into the room beyond it. Abruptly he found himself flat on his back with his sister holding him pinned.

“VEET!”

“Liritar and I have discussed this at length, and we had decided that pink is not your colour. Lavender is much more your shade.”

“VEEE-EEE-EET!!”

“With yellow and dark blue of course.”

“VEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!”

“What?”

“Let me up right now! I am leaving!”

“Well then we had best dress you quickly! Liritar, you begin his hair while I tie him up.”

“I mean I am departing! I have folk waiting on me!”

“Leaving? As in the castle? As in heading back to Imladris?”

“That is exactly what I mean!”

“Then you mean not to stay until Father is well.”

“What good is my presence here? I cannot even speak with him for fear of his collapsing once more! And I have a husband I love waiting on me. Father has bid me leave his sight until I have shed the Dwarf. After Gimli has lived to a ripe old age and passed away with me by his side, I shall be more than happy to spend all the time with Ada he likes!”

“Such a determined little thing you are! Still, I shall miss you. I have a whole closet full of dresses I have not yet put on you.”

“Then release me.”

“After we do your hair and make-up.”

“VEET!”

***---***

Glóin was about to get impatient when Legolas joined them. Glóin just stared, open-mouthed, as the young Elven warrior stepped out of the bushes, leading a grey horse. His hair was in huge rolls and curls, with fluttering purple ribbons in it. His face was made up like a Gondorian prostitute’s, and, as Glóin opened his mouth, Legolas snapped around to glare at him. A faint white light shimmered about him ominously.

“Say nothing,” he snapped, then walked away, untying ribbons as he went.