The Last Homely House
Chapter Seven

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: Orophin and Haldir learn far more about Rumil's new position at the court of Elrond than they ever wanted to know, Erestor is confused, Haldir has his wish granted and Thranduil is shown his place.
Notes: Rumil’s entrance at dinner works best if you read it while listening to ‘Little Red Rooster’ by Howlin’ Wolf. Trust me, that’s how I wrote it.

Extracts of this song can be heard here
Or here

The warm spring sunlight filtered in through the large multi-paned windows of Elrond’s office, belying the destruction that lay beyond. In here, all was calm and order. The dark wooden walls reflected the light coming in through the beveled glass. Upon the left wall hung a life-sized portrait of Gil-galad in full armor, imposing and proud. Across the room on the right wall, wearing a white dress and lounging on a bear rug, was Lady Celebrian.

Elrond’s office was the most depressing place in the Last Homely House. Erestor wished it had been swept away as well. He dreaded the thought that one day he may have a home that was filled with the memories of the dead and gone.

Erestor sat at the huge desk, his black hair pulled back. He glanced over at Glorfindel dozing on an embroidered couch. His head was turned to one side, and his flowing white hair spilled off the pillow and down nearly to the floor. In a wicker basket near him was Estorel, awake, but content for the moment. Erestor looked at his small family and felt sick at the thought of his son forsaking his immortal life, and his husband naught but a painting beside his desk. He could not bear it. He wondered sometimes how Lord Elrond kept his sanity.

At last he returned to the documents before him. He was trying to keep track of the house finances; a task that never failed to make his teeth grind. Their original accountant was in the Havens, having decided to take up raising songbirds. Erestor had many talents, but numbers were not among them. He deeply resented being reduced to counting on his fingers. Then there were the distractions….

SQUEAK!! Giggle.

Pause.

SQUEAK!! Giggle giggle.

Longer pause.

SQUEAK!! Giggle.

Erestor paused, waiting. When he believed all was safe, he lowered his gaze to the books once more.

SQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAK!!! Hysterical infant giggling.

Erestor sighed and dropped his pen, then looked over at Glorfindel. He had not moved, but there was a huge grin on his face and his shoulders were shaking.

“Oh you think this is funny, do you?”

Glorfindel nodded, still laughing. Erestor capped his ink and cleaned the pen. “I am going to kill Gimli for giving him that damnable toy!” He rose and walked over to Glorfindel, sitting on the floor beside him, then leaning forward to kiss him.

“Why don’t you and Estorel go for a walk while I try to sort the papers?”

“Ah, my breathing is getting on your nerves is it?”

“Yes.”

Glorfindel kissed him, then got up. Walking over to the basket, he picked it up.

“Come along, penneth! And bring your faithful pony Squeaky. Let us go see what the Halflings are having for lunch, shall we?”

He turned and kissed Erestor once more, then the two left. Silence fell once more in the office, and Erestor returned to his duties. He had just opened the ink when the Dwarfs broke into loud song. Defeated, Erestor lowered his head and began banging it upon the desk.

“Erestor, are you quite all right?”

Erestor sat bolt upright. He quickly regained his composure. “Never better, Lord Elrond.”

Elrond did not look convinced, but he smiled as he stepped into his office. “Well if you are not too busy, I need a services contract drawn up.”

“Oh of course. Mason? Woodworker? New accountant?”

Elrond was peering out the window, trying to see what the Dwarfs were doing. “Catamite.”

Erestor would have sworn the eyes on Gil-galad’s portrait got larger. “Catamite?!” said Erestor. “I thought that post disappeared with Noldo!”

“I’m resurrecting it.” Elrond moved from the window to a small table set with a decanter of wine and glasses. He poured himself some wine, his boots leaving mud on the marble floor. He had been helping to load support beams into place, and he was quite dirty. But even covered in dirt, he looked like the Master of Imladris. He poured a second glass and, smiling, held it up for Erestor.

“Care for a glass?”

“I would, yes.” Erestor came from behind the desk and took the glass of miruvor. “Catamite. You did say catamite.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“For you.”

“Yes.”

“You’re mad,” said Erestor bluntly. “First of all, that position is so out-dated as to be offensive, second this can only damage your reputation, third…” He paused, trying to put his thoughts in order, “Third, if you want a slut, there are any number of Elves and Mortals of either sex who would be more than happy to play ‘hide-the-sausage’ with you for an evening.”

Elrond seemed to be greatly enjoying watching his advisor have a fit. “You disapprove of the concept.”

Erestor tossed back his wine and poured himself more. “That is putting it mildly my lord. I not only disapprove, I strenuously object! I will not see you made a fool of and taken advantage of by some social-climbing trollop. Who is the little slut, anyway?”

“Rúmil.”

The glass slipped from Erestor’s hand, shattering on the stone with a delicate ‘ping.’ “Rúmil!? Haldir and Orophin with have your testicles for breakfast, you know this! ‘Catamite’ is not an honored position!”

“Please just draw up the contract, Erestor.” Elrond passed his advisor another glass of miruvor.

Erestor took the glass. “I’ll do no such thing. It is madness. This is almost as bad an idea as when you sent Frodo off to Mordor. I’ll not do it.”

“Erestor, do not make me give you The Eyebrow.”

Erestor drained his glass and set it down. He came to stand almost nose-to-nose with his Lord. “Eyebrow be damned, you can give me both Eyebrows and the Disdainful Glare and I will still not do it. I will not see a great Elf and the Herald of Gil-galad end his days in Middle Earth as a laughing stock.”

Elrond smiled at Erestor, his eyes filled with a genuine warmth and affection for his advisor, which stopped Erestor’s tirade better than any angry command. He set down his glass, then gently took Erestor’s face between his large, mud-streaked hands. Erestor stood, uncertain and a little confused, as Elrond gently kissed his brow.

“My dear friend,” he said quietly. “All you say is very true. And your wisdom is without dispute. But look around. My home is in the river. My first lover is dead. My wife has forsaken me and her immortal life…” Erestor opened his mouth, and Elrond silenced him with a touch. “My daughter, too, my dear little Arwen, who once sat on my lap and told me she would love me and be with me forever, has forsaken both me and her Elven birthright. Erestor, my friend, my life has been one of wisdom and sensibility, and look what it has gained me. I live in a shrine to the dead and dying. Grant me one act of supreme folly.”

He kissed him, very gently, a soft pressing of lips. Erestor trembled before him, uncertain what to do. He had seen Elrond in many moods, but this one was utterly new to him, and more than a little frightening. Finally, he nodded.

“I will draw up the contract,” he said simply.

Elrond watched Erestor cross the floor to the desk, eyeing his long black hair, his slim body. He smiled, more at himself than anything. ‘Master Erestor,’ he thought, ‘Had I known what gifts and talents you hid, I would have tried for you long ago. Alas, the chance is lost. But I can still watch you walk.’

***---***

It was a truly unlikely group cloud-watching that day. There was Aragorn, King of Gondor, Heir of Isildur. To his left was Haldir, Galadhrim of Lothlorien, to his right, Rosie of the Shire. Beside Rosie was Mauburz the Straggler, deserter of Sauruman’s army.

“It’s a flying horse, see it?” said Rosie.

Aragorn tilted his head to the left and pondered the cloud Rosie pointed at. “It is indeed,” he said.

“Not see,” said Mauburz.

Rosie pointed out the image to Mauburz. “See? The wings? The head thrown back? There’s the tail…”

“Oh, see now. Yes, flying horse. Mauburz would like flying horse.”

“Where would you go?” asked Rosie.

“Go see mountains, go see Golden Wood. Want go see great cities of Gondor and Rohan, but no want get head cut off. Flying horse… I could see but no get shot.”

Rosie took the Orc’s great paw between her hands. “Poor Mauburz, it’s unfair folk can’t see what a good heart you have.”

“Could if I pulled it out and showed them.”

Rosie’s smile became a little forced. “Still have an Orcy sense of humor, don’t you hon?”

Aragorn laughed quietly. Beside him, Haldir rolled onto his stomach and watched the progress of a small beetle.

“So what would you wish for, Rosie?” asked Aragorn.

“Me? Nothing. I have more than I ever expected. What could I ask for? Watching clouds with an Orc, an Elf and a King. Rebuilding the gardens of Imladris, meeting all the folk my Sammy has spoken of. But if I had one wish it would be to get that Legolas fellow alone for twenty minutes, he’s fine!”

Aragorn, Haldir and Mauburz howled with laughter, while Rosie grinned and blushed. “Well what about you?” she asked Aragorn.

“My wish? My wish has been granted. The evil is gone, and Arwen and I are wed.” He looked at Haldir. “What about you?”

Haldir thought for a long time, playing idly with a small flower. “I would,” he finally said, “if I had a wish, like for all my friends and my brothers to see how truly beautiful my lover is. That he is not an animal, not, as Rúmil put it; ‘a freakish Orc,’ but an Elf in the purest sense of the word, a creature closer to nature than even we are. A being of grace, and wisdom, and the earth; mother and father both. I love him so much.”

Aragorn rolled onto his stomach, resting his head on Haldir’s shoulder. “I see it, if that is any comfort.”

Haldir kissed his friend on the brow. “I thank you for that.” He smiled. “I love him. What more can I say?”

Aragorn grinned. “You have said it all, my friend.”

Haldir smiled at Aragorn, not noticing a vague shadow moving away.

***---***

Erestor drew up the contract, then passed it, almost shyly, to Elrond. The Elf-Lord took it and read it over. At last he nodded. “Thank you, Erestor.”

“I still must make my protests known,” said Erestor softly.

Elrond looked at Erestor, thinking very inappropriate thoughts about his chief advisor. Such as wondering what he sounded like making love. “Protests noted, Erestor.”

“Anything else, my lord?”

‘Yes, I would like you in my bed covered in fine oil in a half an hour.’ “No, Erestor, this is fine. One thing, however….”

“Yes my lord?”

“Can we have those wretched snails in hot butter and garlic as opposed to steamed?”

Erestor smiled. “Of course my Lord.”

Elrond looked at him, and suddenly felt a small rush of anger and sadness. Erestor could have been his, and so could have Estorel. But he had lost him, because he had been waiting for Celebrian. And she had forsaken him utterly. Elrond touched Erestor’s cheek, then left, seeking Rúmil. He did not wish to be alone with his thoughts just then.

Rúmil was sitting on a large stone beside Legolas when he saw Elrond come into view. The Elf-Lord looked at him, then began walking towards his pavilion. Rúmil got up and followed after him, leaving Legolas to soak up the sun in peace.

He entered the beautiful pavilion, stepping over the pillow-strewn floor to the waiting Elf. Elrond gently drew him against himself and kissed him softly, enjoying being with someone who was, at least for the moment, truly his own. He stroked Rúmil’s long hair, then kissed him again. There was no need to speak, nothing that needed to be said. It was an arrangement, nothing more.

But one that already meant a great deal to Elrond.

He had Rúmil on the rug-and-pillow covered floor, making love to him gently, taking his time. No one disturbed them, and there was nothing but the sound of their quiet passion and the nearby river. When at last they finished, they lay beside one another, looking up at the ceiling of the great tent.

“I drew up the contract,” said Elrond quietly.

Rúmil nodded, then rolled towards Elrond. “I must confess, I am a little afraid.”

“As are we both, I think.” He looked at the younger Elf. “Are you certain you want this? It was amusing by the river, but now I have my doubts.”

Rúmil looked at Elrond with clear green eyes. “I wish it. If for no other reason than to make you heart lighter.”

Elrond thought about the portrait of Gil-galad, and the one of Celebrian. Of the one of Arwen that would soon hang with them. “I do not know what I wish, Rúmil. Death perhaps. My home is a tomb.”

Rúmil rolled on top of him, kissing him. “Why have you waited so long to let someone ease your burdens, my lord?” he asked softly.

Elrond looked at Rúmil, and said softly, simply; “I thought she would come back.” Then he pulled Rúmil down upon his breast and cried into his long pale gold hair. He drew a ragged breath. “Rúmil, I am so twisted inside I do not know what I wish. I wish… I wish so many things had turned out differently, or had never come to pass. I love Estel but I wish he had not taken my daughter. I love Celebrian, but she would not let me reach her. I loved Gil-galad with a passion without measure, but he is dead. How many more times must I watch those I love wither and die?”

Rúmil held him tightly, thinking he was failing rather miserably at cheering his Lord. He kissed him, softly, repeatedly. “I am here for you, and I shall not leave while you wish me to stay. I cannot change the past, but I can soften the future. Please do not grieve.”

Elrond held him closely, thinking that perhaps grieving was exactly what he needed to do. He held Rúmil tightly, then kissed him. “I need to weep, Rúmil. And I thank you for being here.”

They held each other for a long time, Elrond caressing Rúmil, kissing him. Finally he looked up.

“It grows late,” he said. “We should get ready for the evening meal.” He looked back at Rúmil. He stroked his hair, then kissed him. “I took the liberty of setting up quarters appropriate for your new position.”

“Oh!” Rúmil sat up to straddle Elrond’s midriff. “Do I get lots of scandalous garments as well?”

Elrond laughed. “Well I did not go so far as to choose your garb!”

“Oh but you must! I am yours, now, I should appear in a manner pleasing to you.”

Elrond grinned broadly. “You are quite mad, Rúmil. Very well, let us get you dressed in a manner suitable.”

***---***

Rúmil pulled the fluttering scarlet and cobalt silk garment out of the trunk and laughed. “These are absolutely outrageous, where did you find this stuff?”

Elrond grinned, something he found himself doing a great deal around Rúmil. He tried to feign seriousness, but it was of no use. “I will have you know these were very fashionable in the days of Gil-galad.”

Rúmil laughed again. “I adore them! So vibrant!” He gave Elrond a mischievous look. “Now you must go to supper while I get dressed.”

Elrond kissed him. “I look forward to your grand entrance.” Then he rose to his feet and left the tent.

Rúmil watched him depart, then looked about his new quarters. It was no humble battlefield tent; in its glory days it had been the yurt of an Elven noble. It was a grand round structure, boasting even a fire pit and a locking wooden door. It was draped with tapestries to keep the cool of the early spring evenings out, and the floor was covered with rugs, furs, and pillows. Then of course, there was the bed. An ancient and grandiose structure Rúmil was in awe of. His time as an archer in Lothlórien meant a rather Spartan life. His last bed before leaving the Golden Wood had been a blanket on the floor of a talan. His bed here in Imladris had been a true bed, but only a simple one. This thing he was afraid to sleep, on for fear the owner would tell him to get out of it.

It was a great, canopied affair, with carved posts and a headboard nearly as tall as he was. It was draped with quilts and furs, piled with satin-covered feather pillows. Beds could be innocent enough, but this thing was fairly obvious in its purpose. Especially considering what was carved into that headboard.

Rúmil had a feeling the setting up of his yurt was the current topic of discussion around the evening fire. He went through his new wardrobe for something appropriately outrageous, then brushed out his hair. He removed his warrior-braids; the hair so accustomed to them that the strands would not straighten. He left it loose, then began to change.

***---***

Erestor valiantly did battle with the finances, then, finally, as the sun began to set, closed the scrolls with an enthusiasm he had not felt since he was an Elfling leaving lessons. He capped the ink, then, as he was cleaning his pens, became aware of a silent presence. He smiled.

“Mae govannen, Rabbit.”

Rabbit stepped cautiously into the office, scenting, listening. Satisfied it was safe, he made a quiet, purring sound, and Bramble came in. She immediately climbed onto the couch where Glorfindel had been dozing earlier and began to play with the carved wooden horses on the window ledge.

Erestor smiled at the very large form that drew close to him. Rabbit had accepted Erestor as family, which meant he was the only person besides Haldir who got so close to him. Rabbit bumped into him, then lowered his head to nip Erestor’s neck. It may have been a common enough greeting with Plains-Elves, but it never failed to give Erestor the shivers. He smiled and put an arm about Rabbit’s waist.

“What brings you here?”

Rabbit raised his head and looked about the office, still wary. Erestor smiled at him, waiting for him to speak.

“I was hoping you could teach me something,” he finally said.

“I? Teach you anything? What can I possibly do that you cannot?”

Rabbit smiled, then held up a fork. “How do I use this?”

Erestor blinked. “A fork? You wish me to teach you to use a fork?”

Rabbit looked at the silver tool. “You call this a fork?”

“Rabbit you have spent thousands of years being perfectly happy eating small animals whole. Why now an interest in etiquette?”

“I over-heard Haldir speaking with Aragorn. He said he wished his friends and family could see I am not an animal. I know he does not mean for me to behave as he and his Wood-Elf kin do, but I thought for one night I could join him in his world, rather than always lurking in my own. Besides,” Rabbit smiled, “Haldir has already proved adept at swallowing small fish whole, though his howling requires a great deal of work.”

Erestor laughed. “Rabbit I do believe Haldir must love you a great deal. I cannot think what Fin would have to do to persuade me to eat a raw fish. Very well, let us get you ready.”

***---***

They gathered at the outdoor dining place. A make-shift table had been set up, and candles illuminated the area. In the background, the pond sparkled in the light of the newly risen moon, and the green dragon dozed peacefully on the bank.

Erestor seated himself at the table, noting the slight alteration in the seating arrangement. To the right of Elrond’s chair was Glorfindel’s, and of course, next to his was Erestor’s. Other members could sit much where they pleased; given the circumstances they were not standing on ceremony. However, the chair to Elrond’s left was new, and obviously reserved. Erestor had a feeling it was gong to be a memorable night indeed. He felt his stomach clench nervously.

Glorfindel seated himself next to Erestor and kissed him. “Good evening, darling, survived your day I see.”

“Barely,” muttered Erestor. “And where is Estorel? He’s not been stolen again, has he?”

Glorfindel indicated the nearby cradle. Erestor heard a familiar squeaking and giggling, and smiled. “Glad to see someone is enjoying himself.”

“Something happen to sour your mood darling?”

“Does it show?”

“The last time I saw that look in your eyes, Lord Elrond had just informed you that you were going to be a mother.”

“Well if it is any consolation, I am not pregnant. But I am worried. This could be a very exciting evening, and not in a good way. Our beloved Lord Elrond has decided a little folly would do him good.”

“Well it may. He never seems to take time for fun anymore. The Valar know his life has not been a merry one lately.”

“You will not hear me argue that point, but there is folly and there is folly. I have a feeling this is going to end in another kinslaying. Elrond has chosen to take a catamite.”

“Ah! So that would be whom the fancy yurt was for. So when does the little tart arrive?”

“He’s already here. In fact, you broke his nose for him when he kissed me.”

Glorfindel dropped his fork as his eyes snapped to Erestor. “You don’t mean…!”

Erestor silenced him as Haldir and Orophin made their way to the table, Orophin seating himself next to Elladan. “That is precisely who I mean.”

“I can think of at least two individuals who will not be happy. You did mention to our dear Lord and Master that it isan honored position?”

“I even went so far as to refuse to write up the contract. He convinced me to, eventually.”

“How, pray tell, did he do that?”

“He kissed me.”

Glorfindel dropped his knife and rose up, a white fire enveloping him. “He did what?”

“Fin sit down, you are attracting attention.”

“I will hang him by his own tongue should he do it again!”

Estorel made a small frightened noise, then began to cry. Erestor glared at Glorfindel as he rose to go to his child. “It was nothing you need froth about.”

The white light dimmed, then flickered out. Glorfindel pouted. “You used to like it when I frothed.”

Erestor flicked back his long hair with an elegant motion of his hand before he bent to pick up the small Elfling. He arched one eyebrow and gave his lover a mischievous smile that never failed to make his breath strain as well as his breeches.

“Later on I’ll whip you into a frenzy,” he purred.

Glorfindel swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. “Oh. All right.” He sat down rather heavily, watching Erestor get Estorel calmed down. At last he got up and went to fetch a bottle.

Erestor watched him go, then smiled. “The mighty Balrog Slayer,” he said softly.

Glorfindel returned with a warmed bottle, then took Estorel to their tent to feed him and put him to bed. Erestor had to admit he was a little surprised at what an attentive father Fin was; he’d half feared Fin would be the sort of parent to leave all the child-care to him. As it was, he found himself sometimes having to fight his husband for the privilege of just holding Estorel. However, he mused as he seated himself at the table, Estorel always seemed to appear when he needed a new diaper. There were few things in Arda that the mighty Glorfindel feared. Used nappies were definitely one of them.

He suddenly found himself regretting having not gone with them as Elrond appeared, taking his place at the chair beside the one at the head of the table; that place was reserved for Thranduil while he was there. Elrond was cleaned up and dressed in simple breeches and tunic. Erestor noticed him watching Haldir and Orophin, and the knot returned to his stomach. He hoped his concerns proved groundless.

Others came to the table. Thranduil first, then Legolas, with Gimli beside him as always, and Glóin not far behind. Then came Sam, Rosie, Merry and Pippin. Finally Elrohir came up, Amrun with him. Bramble was the last to arrive, scrambling onto her seat and looking about for her favorite uncle.

“Where’s Rúmil?” she asked.

“Oh have no fear, he shall arrive soon,” said Haldir.

Erestor picked at his food, thinking; “Be afraid, be very afraid.”

He glanced up as a flutter of movement caught his eye. He heard his fork drop to his plate, and felt his jaw drop as he saw a figure dressed in cobalt and scarlet saunter slowly into the light.

Rúmil strutted over to Elrond, his whole body moving like a snake on a branch, the streaming red silk fluttering around him like tongues of flame, licking him all over. His hair hung loose about his shoulders, falling across his face. Peering from behind the hair, like smoldering green coals, were his eyes, streaked with kohl. His already high cheekbones were accented with a trace of rouge, and his full lips painted into a pout that had Erestor thinking things he just wasn’t comfortable with. He had on breeches that left little to the imagination, and a pair of thigh-boots that invited eyes to travel up his long slender legs. He was transformed completely into something that had surely climbed out of the depths to tempt Men and Elves to their deaths. He swung himself slowly and sensuously into Elrond’s lap and kissed him, then lightly pulled away to strut over to his own seat. He dipped one finger into the small bowl of garlic butter beside his plate, then drew it slowly between his lips.

“So,” he purred, “what’s for dinner?”

There came the sound of someone’s glass hitting the ground, then dead silence.

Haldir shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Elladan and Elrohir just stared. Orophin slowly rose from his seat and gaped at the figure. “Rúmil?!”

“None other,” he said.

Haldir clamped his hand over Bramble’s eyes. “Rúmil have you taken leave of your senses?”

“No,” he said, all eyes and innocence.

Haldir and Orophin slowly turned their gaze to Elrond, who was grinning at Rúmil as though he would laugh any moment.

“My Lord? Have you an explanation for this?” asked Orophin as politely as he could with his teeth gritted.

“Rúmil and I have come to an arrangement,” said Elrond.

Haldir certainly did not need long to figure it out. “You’re a bloody catamite!”

“Go Ada!” said Elrohir. Elladan slapped him upside his head.

Glóin leaned to his son and said quietly; “I like it here. No wonder you never come home. There’s a show with every meal.”

Erestor hid his face behind his hands, shaking his head. He awaited the inevitable murder.

“Haldir,” said Rúmil quietly, “this was my idea.”

“Yours!”

“Mine,” said Rúmil quietly, firmly.

“But Rúmil …”

Rúmil stabbed a slender fork into one of the snails, then dipped it into the butter. “Mine. Enough said.” He slipped the silver utensil between his full lips.

Orophin and Haldir looked at each other, puzzled, but silent. Then Orophin sat down, and Erestor heard himself utter a sigh of relief. Glóin poured himself some wine.

“That’s it!” he said. “I’m moving in!”

“Definitely,” said Merry. “You don’t see this at home.”

Bramble yanked her father’s hand down from his eyes and glared at him. She then began eating her dinner.

Rúmil kept his eyes on his plate, quite certain this was not the last he would hear of this. He chanced a glance over at Elrond, who was also looking back at him. The two were hard put not to burst out laughing. Erestor watched them and felt a migraine coming on. He poured himself a double shot of miruvor and tossed it back.

Thranduil arrived not long afterwards. If he noticed Rúmil he did not give any indication. His eyes as always went to the empty seat next to Haldir’s. He had heard rumors among some of the other Elves that Rabbit did not exist, that he was some sort of a myth in Haldir’s fevered brain. In truth he was beginning to believe it. He had been in Imladris well nigh a week and had seen not a trace of him. The fact that others insisted this being did exist seemed to him the act of friends humoring a troubled mind. True, the black-haired little Elfling with the yellow-green eyes was unusual looking, but she was no proof that this Rabbit existed. There were orphans aplenty these days; she could simply be one more he had picked up in an attempt to continue his delusion.

Aragorn, Arwen and Faramir came to the table, and they plainly did notice Rúmil. Arwen was about to say something to her father, when Thranduil interrupted her.

“Haldir,” he said, “still no sign of your lover?”

‘None you saw, you over-bearing cretin,’ he thought. “I have told your Majesty, he obeys not the whims of others.”

“I have heard he does not exist.”

“I can assure you, he does.” Haldir’s voice held a touch of ice to it.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, disliking being challenged. “A week I have been here, and this is not a large valley. Surely there would have been some sign by now.”

Rúmil raised his head. “Your Majesty, I have known of Rabbit for a thousand years of my life, when he was known in the Golden Wood as the Forest Spirit, the Ghost of Lothlórien. I have been on patrols specifically to find him, and saw not so much as a bent twig to indicate his passing.”

Thranduil stared down his nose at Rúmil, then looked at Elrond. “Did that slut just speak to me?”

Erestor closed his eyes and again awaited a murder; whose he was not certain. Elrond turned to the King of Mirkwood and said very coolly; “He is no slut, he is my catamite, AND a respected Galadhel of Lothlórien. And he may address whomever he pleases at MY table.”

Haldir and Orophin exchanged meaningful glances. Perhaps there was no need to lynch Elrond after all. Thranduil was not impressed, but did not press the matter.

“Even so,” he said coldly, “if what your… Galadhel says is so, I should think there would be some trace of his presence.”

There was a silent sparkle of a fine black robe, a scattering of black gems about the throat of the garment. It fit the lean, muscled body of the large Elf well, making him look more regal than the lords seated at the table. Rabbit stepped out of the darkness and looked down at Thranduil with yellow-green eyes.

“I reveal myself to those I chose, I speak to those I chose, I befriend those I chose. I am Eyes-on-Horizon, Ravensinger, Far-Walker to the Golden Woods, and Rabbit of Imladris in Hathil-Loth-Mahr. You wished to see me. Look well, King of the Spider Realm. You will not see me again. After this eve, you may content yourself that I am the result of a fevered and troubled mind. Your own, perhaps.” He looked at Haldir, and smiled slightly. “I believe you said you wished others could see me as you do. I do not know how you see me, but Master Erestor made a suggestion.”

Haldir stood up, eyes shining. “My compliments to Master Erestor,” he said softly.

“Yes we all have a lot to thank Master Erestor for,” said Elrond.

Haldir and Orophin looked slowly and meaningfully towards Erestor. The advisor smiled weakly.

“You mean he is real?” said Glóin.

Sam eyed the large being, his jaw opened. He had heard of Rabbit from Merry and Pippin, but had doubted his existence himself. Elves that bit did not seem very likely to him. But he had a feeling this creature could, and indeed would, bite.

Rabbit came to look at what his daughter was eating. “Snails, Sia,” said the child.

Rabbit lowered his head and peered at them. “Cooked?”

Bramble nodded. Rabbit sighed, then looked at Haldir. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “I suppose they will have to do.”

***---***

Dinner ended, and no one had died. While the others went to the pond to sing, drink and be merry, Erestor dragged himself to the cottage. Elrond had permitted him to use it, despite the presence of nobles who felt more deserving. Elrond however would not see his advisor and new baby living in a tent, no matter how fine.

Erestor entered the small building, seeing Glorfindel lying on the floor with a wide-awake Estorel, who was giggling himself sick as his father nibbled him, his tiny fists yanking long white hair. Erestor stepped over the both of them to get to the miruvor.

“There you are darling, did I miss anything at dinner?”

Erestor did not bother with a glass. He took a swig of the fine liquor from the bottle, then sank heavily into a luxurious chair. “You have no idea. First, Rúmil shows up, in garb unseen since Gil-galad first stepped onto a battle field.”

“Went for the whole look, did he?”

“Oh, indeed. Amazing. Then, just as Haldir and Orophin are trying to decide whether to kill Elrond or myself first, in walks Rabbit.”

Glorfindel began gently extracting his silver hair from his son, wincing. “Rabbit?!”

“Rabbit. In dinner garb. Seems he’s a little weary of folk telling his lover he is hallucinating. So he breezes in to tell King Thranduil that if Haldir is mad, then Thranduil must be bloody insane because here he is.” Erestor had another drink, then sighed. “I have a headache the size of Gondor.”

Glorfindel managed to extract himself from his son. He put the child in his cradle, gave him his squeaky pony, then came to kneel before Erestor. He reached up to gently touch the side of his face. “Come here,” he said softly, and drew him down from the chair to sit on the floor. Positioning himself behind Erestor, Glorfindel drew his black hair aside and kissed his throat. Then he began massaging his lover’s shoulders and neck. Erestor groaned in pleasure.

“What did I do without you?”

Glorfindel grinned. “I heard you used to go visit the head groom.”

“Oh, yes, I did,” said Erestor matter-of-factly.

Glorfindel’s grin dropped off. “I was joking. You did?”

“Yes, I used to go to the groom.”

“You… and the groom.”

“I used to visit him when I had headaches, yes.” He looked over his shoulder at Glorfindel. He looked at the expression on his lover’s face, and sighed with realization. “For horse liniment, you goof! Worried I had sullied myself with another?”

“There is not a thing you could do to sully yourself, my love. I just thought I’d found a wild side to you I had not seen before. Horse liniment, you say.”

“I always found the scent cleansing. Excellent for tense muscles, makes your hair shiny too.”

“And gives you an urge to count by stamping your right hoof.”

Erestor laughed, then made a sound like a horse. He leaned back against Glorfindel, and sighed.

“Oh Fin, remember when all I had to do was make certain Lord Elrond had his robe on the right way and avoid whatever nasty surprise you had put on my bed?”

“Now I am the nasty surprise on your bed.”

Erestor looked over his shoulder and smiled at his lover, raising one eyebrow. “What say we get some liniment, then I tie you to the bed and we play ‘Horsy’.”

***---***

Rúmil felt distinctly odd.

He had been to many gatherings in Imladris, but always with his brothers and the other warriors. Haldir had been briefly Lord of Imladris while Elrond had yet to return from the Havens, and as such was treated as a noble of the house, though Haldir plainly preferred to sit and drink with those he had served with in Lothlórien. Rúmil watched him sit and laugh with Rhimlan, knowing he should be there as well. Instead, he stood beside Lord Elrond, being bored out of his mind, listening to political matters he knew little of and cared less about.

He glanced over at Aragorn, and recognized the same glazed-over look in his eyes. The two exchanged a meaningful glance, and began laughing quietly. Elrond heard his companion snicker and turned his attention to him. He put his arm around him.

“What amuses you so?” he asked, smiling.

He leaned in close and whispered; “Aragorn and I just found it humorous that he is as bored as I.”

“I admit that matters of policy are not as engaging as some other topics, but they are important.”

Rúmil rolled his eyes then sagged against Elrond. “You will get no argument from me about their importance, my lord. But this is a party, not a council.”

“Well then, what do you suggest we do?”

Rúmil smiled. “Teach me to dance.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Rúmil, what makes you think that I know how to dance?”

“Oh come!” He pressed his long body against Elrond’s and whispered into his ear; “All those parties with Gil-galad? You think we have no idea just how close you two were?”

“I do not think you are discussing dancing, per se, dear Rúmil.”

Rúmil grinned. “Perhaps not entirely. I am certain, however, you could show me many forms of… dancing.”

“Well let us begin with the basics, shall we?” He took Rúmil by the hand and led him a little closer to the group of musicians.

Haldir and Orophin watched closely as Elrond began teaching Rúmil a simple dance. Rabbit sat beside Haldir, his head in his lap, green eyes following the couple as well.

“Perhaps there is no need to kill him yet,” said Orophin.

“Do not jest about such things, Orophin,” said Haldir, stroking his hand over Rabbit’s hair. For the first time since he had known him, it was combed and braided. He was amused however, that even impeccably combed, it was still too heavy to get his fingers through.

“I am not jesting. Our brother is not to be trifled with like some whore.”

“I have my doubts Lord Elrond would treat Rúmil with cruelty. I think rather this is some game to them. Rúmil seems not to feel dishonored.”

“He is a Galadhrim, not a trollop.”

Haldir sighed. “I still hold that this is a game, and nothing more. It pleases me no more than you, but let them play it. They are old enough.”

Orophin curled his lip, then noticed a dark figure with long hair move just within the light of the fire. He smiled shyly at Orophin, then turned and walked towards his pavilion. Haldir smiled wryly as his brother seemed to forget all about his displeasure and followed Elladan without so much as a ‘good night’.

Haldir sighed, then looked down at Rabbit. “Mad,” he said softly, “all of us.”

Rabbit rest his chin upon Haldir’s thigh, smiling. Then he raised his head slightly. “Lindir is coming.”

Haldir looked up, and saw Lindir walk into the light. He glanced about, then, seeing Haldir, came to seat himself next to him.

Lindir had not dwelled long at Imladris. His mother, driven by fears known only to her, had raised him in solitude, determined to keep him a child forever. When she and her ‘child’ were found, the other Elves were moved to take Lindir from her and give him a chance to actually grow into the proud Galadhel he could be. If asked, Lindir would say he lived with Fin and Erestor, and certainly Glorfindel was fiercely protective of him. Lindir, however, was the mutual child of the household, and all now took a part in his well-being and education.

Erestor got the job of teaching him to read and write, as well as the dubious honour of informing him that babies did not fall out of Mallorn trees. Lindir clearly possessed the intellect of his Elven kin, he had simply been denied the right to grow up. However he was advancing in his letters very quickly.

He was less willing to accept babies did not fall from trees.

He sat beside Haldir and put his head on his shoulder. Haldir put an arm around this ‘child’ who was well nigh as tall as Rabbit and said; “And why are you awake?” his tone gently chiding.

Lindir yawned. “The men outside my tent woke me.”

“Men? Do you mean Aragorn and Faramir?”

At the mention of Faramir’s name, Lindir raised his head and looked for him. Faramir had been teaching him bird-calls, and now was one of his favorite people. Not seeing him, Lindir put his head down again.

“No. Strange men, whispering. I don’t know what they were saying.”

Lindir may have been the oldest child on Arda, but he was not an idiot. Elves were wary creatures by nature, but here, in their own valley, making merry on a fair night, there was much they may overlook. Haldir felt a chill.

He caught Rúmil’s attention, and his younger brother stopped dancing with Elrond and paid heed. Haldir made a gesture, and Rúmil nodded, going for his bow. Elrond suddenly became wary, looking about as he made his way over to Haldir.

“What troubles you?”

“Lindir says he was awakened by strange men outside his tent. Other than Aragorn and Faramir, there are no men here.”

“Organize a search,” said Elrond, “I shall go for my sword.”

Rabbit stood. He had shed the formal robe earlier in the evening, anxious to get out of its confining embrace. Clad in his usual ripped breeches and worn boots, he loped towards Lindir’s tent.

“Lindir,” said Haldir, “go to the cottage and get Glorfindel, then stay there with Erestor.”

Lindir nodded, looking frightened, but did as he was told. Haldir quickly went after Rabbit. He caught up with him, along with his brothers, Legolas’ sisters Veet and Liritar, as well as Aragorn and Elrond. All were by Lindir’s tent.

“What does your nose tell you?” asked Haldir.

“Too much,” said Rabbit. “Many folk have passed this way, and we all carry the scent of wood smoke. Wait here, I shall circle and see if I can find a truer scent.”

They waited, watching Rabbit seek, then finally track a scent. He began bounding after it, and they followed.

They followed Rabbit far out of camp and into the woods, watching him head unerringly towards the source of the strange odor. Then Haldir watched Rabbit’s demeanor change, moving from simply tracking to stalking. Abruptly he leapt on something, and there came the sound of a fight.

When they caught up with Rabbit, he had his teeth in the throat of a hideous, Orc-faced being, shaking it with the fury of a wild dog. The creature was screaming guttural treats. It pulled forth a knife and tried to stab him, but Haldir abruptly grabbed the hand clutching the long ugly knife and pulled it back. With the Elf holding his arm, the wild, green-eyed beast holding his throat and snarling, the being surrendered.

Aragorn looked down at him, and recognized him instantly. “Well well. Master Ferny, we meet again.”

The look on the man’s face suggested that old Strider the Ranger was the last person he expected to run into. He started in surprise, then attempted to brush Rabbit off in an effort to escape. Rabbit shook him so violently that the skin split and tore.

“Get this filthy animal off me!” he screamed.

Rabbit showed Bill his displeasure at being called an animal by shaking him again.

“I would not shout if I were you,” said Aragorn. “It tends to upset him. Now. Why are you troubling the folk of this valley?”

“Me? I’m causing no trouble! I saw lights from the road!”

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. “Imladris cannot be seen from the road.”

“I only came to beg for scraps! I’ve no place to go now!”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes!”

“Rabbit?”

“Five others.”

“Get off me, demon!” Ferny swatted at Rabbit, who got his teeth into his hand and broke it with a crunch that made all cringe.

Elrond crossed his arms and stared down at the bleeding man. He raised one eyebrow. “Master Ferny. I have heard your name, though I do not suppose you know mine. I have heard about the trouble you caused my foster-son and his companions in Bree. Now it seems you have come to cause difficulty here. Fortunately for you, there is still a dungeon standing where we can keep you until you decide to tell us what mischief you and your hidden companions are up to.”

Ferny’s narrowed, Orc-like eyes went from the tall, proud Elf to the man beside him. He said nothing, but the look on his face suggested he knew he was in for some trouble. Haldir convinced Rabbit to release him, and Ferny was taken away. Elrond sighed wearily.

“Will this never end?”

***---***

It was dawn, and Elrond was walking, alone, towards what used to be his courtyard. Thranduil and his folk were leaving, and in truth, he was not sorry to see them go. He had done little to aid with the rebuilding, and had upset Legolas to the point of where Gimli was genuinely frantic with worry over his health. Legolas was slender at the best of times; lately worry had reduced him to little more than bones. Frankly, if Thranduil had not chosen to leave, Elrond had been ready to ask him to go.

“Lord Elrond!” called a voice. He halted, and saw Liritar coming towards him. She was wearing her traveling clothes, as well as a huge grin. Elrond braced himself, knowing Legolas’ sister could be up to anything.

“Lady Liritar, what can I do for you?”

He was completely unprepared for her to grab him and kiss him full force on the lips. He felt her hand come to rest on his buttock and squeeze it before releasing him. She grinned.

“Didn’t want to leave without a goodbye kiss,” she said.

Elrond watched her go, speechless with numerous emotions. Finally he found his voice. “And Thranduil says MY household is mad!”