The Last Homely House
Chapter Eight

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: Some get wet, some get blue.
Notes: There is an accompaning illustration of Bramble and Uncle Rumil to go with this chapter, drawn by the wonderful Pira.

Rhimlan never heard the explosion before he suddenly felt himself airborne. Flipping through the rain and debris, he landed heavily on mud and bodies, then lay, trying to get his bearings. Finally he tried to get up, but for some reason his leg would not work. He knew why when he saw it. He dropped back down into the mud, wondering if he was going to die.

The warg snapped him up with a casual motion, flinging him back and forth like so much carrion before dropping him to the ground. It bit into him several times, uncertain where it wanted to begin chewing. He felt its fangs tear away flesh and sinew, mauling him. But it was too full from having eaten so many Men and Elves. After a few bored chews the huge beast left him, mangled.

Then for some reason his wife was there. And she was vomiting at the sight of him…

Rhimlan abruptly sat up, sweat-drenched, tears running from his one eye. He glanced about at the inside of the simple tent, then realized he was safe, it had only been a nightmare. He flopped down to the bed heavily, panting, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. Then he slowly, painfully, rose to his feet.

His bad leg buckled, and he fell. Unable to catch himself, he landed in a painful heap. He grit his teeth and cursed softly, then tried to get up again. This time he made it. Dressing, he limped into the cold pre-dawn light.

By Elven standards, he was not very old: barely nine hundred years. But pain and constant nightmares were making him consider taking his battered and broken body into the woods to find a quiet place to lay down and die. Daily he rose and gave serious consideration to departing into the forest, while the household slept. The feeling usually lingered until he had his first cup of tea, then he could distract himself from the thought of suicide until the next morning.

It was a morning ritual he could do without.

There was a wolf in the camp. It was after the fish drying by the fire. It saw him and quickly grabbed one last fish before loping back to the woods. Rhimlan sighed and limped over to the drying rack, setting it back up again. He built up the fire, then looked up as the sea dragon rolled to her belly and yawned to the grey morning.

“Some guardian you are,” he said.

She gave him a slimy lick, then made her way down to the pond. Rhimlan sat down to shiver by the fire, waiting for it to heat his aching joints. In the distance, he heard Glorfindel and a few of the other Elves on horseback, patrolling the area.

‘That used to be me,’ he thought.

Glorfunkle suddenly landed on his head. Rhimlan sighed heavily, then passed the crow a leftover piece of bread. The bird took it and departed, but not before leaving something in his long red hair. Rhimlan held out the hair distastefully, then got up and went to the pond to rinse it out.

“Good morning, Imladris,” he muttered.

He reached the pond, and tried to kneel, but his leg once more failed to hold him, and he tumbled into the water. Angry, wet, and humiliated, he got up and stormed as quickly as his bad leg would let him towards the weaponmaker’s tent. He entered it and pulled the covers off of the slight Elf.

He gazed back at Rhimlan. “This better be good,” he warned, only able to keep one eye open.

“I want you to make me something,” he said.

***---***

Across the encampment, an Uruk-Hai roar echoed through the still air.

“Mouses! Why for damn mouses got sleep in Mauburz’s tent!?”

The few Elves up at that hour watched as mice flew out of the tent, most running out from under the flaps, a few sailing through the air and out the door. Then the huge Orc appeared, a rodent stuck in her hair.

“Mauburz sick of mouses!” She pulled the mouse out of her long black tangled hair. She looked at the tiny beast clutched in her paw, then roared at it before tossing it into the grass. The creature bounded away with all the speed it could manage.

Orophin sat braiding his hair, watching her with a smile. “Perhaps we should start calling you ‘Mouse-burz’.”

“Hah hah. You funny guy for Elf who wet bed until he one hundred!”

Orophin’s jaw dropped. His eyes snapped towards Rúmil, who was preparing tea. Their eyes met, then suddenly Rúmil was running across the compound with his brother in hot pursuit.

“I never mentioned it, I swear! Haldir told!”

“Then I shall have to kill Haldir next! Get over here and die like an Elf, you candy-painted harlot!”

Rúmil fled into his yurt and slammed to door, locking it. Orophin simply dropped down and slid under the edge of the canvas structure. A moment later the door opened and Orophin bounded out. Elrond walked into the doorway, looking disheveled and displeased. From behind him, Rúmil made a face at his brother.

Orophin came back to his seat at the fire, pretending not to mind the fives Elves and one Orc laughing uproariously at him. He brushed out his long pale gold hair and resumed braiding. He could get Rúmil later.

Mauburz finished evicting the mice, wondering why every stinking morning she awoke there were dozens of the rotten little beasts in her tent. Then her hand came to rest upon something round and somewhat soft beneath her cot. She picked it up and looked at it.

It was a bag of feed-corn, smeared with sweet molasses.

She was wondering what it was doing there when she heard Orophin begin swearing, and the other Elves laughing fit to die. She came out of her tent to see Orophin splashed with blue. It was in his hair, all over his face, and down his throat and shoulders.

“Someone put dye in my wash-water!” he howled.

Mauburz looked down at the bag of corn in her hand and made a connection. She showed it to Orophin. “Someone think he funny.”

Orophin looked at the corn, then at the Orc. Blue dye trickled down his face, leaving stains. “Someone gonna die,” he said.

***---***

Elrond was not certain if he should be amused or mortified.

He and Rúmil had decided to take a stroll down by the river. Elrond watched as Rúmil went ahead, moving with quick lightness of an Elf over the stony bank, his pale grey silk tunic showing every move his body made. He had turned to look over his shoulder at Elrond, and was abruptly tackled. Elrond stood and watched as Rúmil’s two brothers dragged him into the river for a little good-natured rough-housing.

After the first dunking, Rúmil was reduced from pampered pet to sodden wreck. “Orophin! You… cretin!”

“I think he looks better wet,” said Haldir.

“I agree,” said Orophin, still blue from his earlier dyeing, and dunked him again.

Rúmil snaked loose and pounced on Haldir. Soon the three Elves were a soggy knot, splashing and dunking each other. Rúmil managed to get loose and cry pleadingly to his Lord for help. Haldir and Orophin stopped short the moment they noticed Elrond.

“Are you going to assist me?” asked Rúmil.

Elrond smiled. “I am going to do exactly what I did when Elrohir and Elladan fought.”

Rumil shoved his hair out of his face. “And that is?”

Elrond smiled again, then turned and blithely strolled away. Haldir grinned and dunked Rúmil again. As Elrond walked further down the river, he heard the brawl continue.

He reached a point where he could only faintly hear the horseplay, then sat down on a large stone to watch the silver water drift by. He sighed contentedly. The day was warm and fair, his home was being re-built, and, more importantly, he had a friend.

He found he had quickly grown fond of the younger Elf. He was funny, intelligent, beautiful, and, he had to admit, the best lover he’d ever had. Rúmil was becoming very dear to him, but he was glad there was still a little distance between them. The catamite contract gave him room to breathe, and he needed it very much. He was not yet ready to be committed to another.

A glimpse of black caught his eye, and he turned to see Rabbit prowling down to the river, accompanied by Bramble. The feral Elf was less of a ghost than he had been, though he was still by no means a common sight. Elrond found he had become quite fond of Rabbit since he had told off Thranduil; Elrond had been dying to for centuries.

He watched Rabbit pause, carefully scenting the air. He glanced towards Elrond, then began circling, his attention focused on a particular area. It was obvious something was causing him concern, and Elrond rose to ask him about it.

He saw Rabbit take fright at something, and bolt like a wild horse. He did not get far before he staggered and fell. Elrond ran towards him, and suddenly felt something sharp sting him. He looked down, and saw what looked like a black bee on his arm. Then all went dark.

***---***

Rhimlan watched the weaponsmith measure his leg, then step back, shaking his head. “I am not certain I can do this.”

Rhimlan smiled. “There is nothing you cannot do, you are an artist.”

Ithilian the weaponsmith smiled wryly. “Be that as it may, my friend, I have not made this sort of device before.”

Rhimlan began braiding back his damp hair. “I do not wish to go through life falling on my face. It is bad enough to be crippled; it is worse to be crippled and humiliated.”

Ithilian was tiny, even by Elven standards. Slender as a willow, and smaller than the others by a great deal. But when it came to forging metal into exquisite creations, there were none better. He had made some of the finest weapons on Middle-Earth, and his cousin was none other than the Elf who had forged the Elven rings of power, Celebrimbor. Rhimlan had no doubt the little Elf could do anything he set his mind to.

The deceptively fragile-looking Elf tied back his long gold hair, then picked up a bit of charcoal and began sketching out the leg-brace Rhimlan had asked for. His eyes were mismatched; one clear and blue, the other filmed over and blind from an accident years ago. It gave him a somewhat mad look. Ithilian sketched for so long Rhimlan began to wonder if he had forgotten about him, but at last the little weapon maker sat back and looked pleased.

“Let us begin!” he said, and grinned.

***---***

The three Elven brothers chased one another and played in the stream for well over an hour. Rúmil’s finery was reduced to a soggy silken wrapper, and Haldir and Orophin were not much better. Haldir was the first to drag himself out of the water, then looked around. He had expected Bramble to come join the play, but his daughter had not appeared. Perhaps seeing her father and uncles chasing each other about had been frightening to a very small child.

“Bramble!” he called.

There was no response, but Haldir was not worried. Rabbit had most likely taken her further down stream, where the fish would not be scared away by their noise.

Orophin came to stand beside him. “Calling for assistance?” he teased.

Haldir tried to look superior, but failed by grinning. “Are you afraid my daughter will come and give you a thrashing?”

“Well, yes, because Nana taught me not to hit little Elfling females.”

Rúmil stepped out of the water, then glanced about. “I should find Lord Elrond.”

Orophin sighed, then said; “Tell me truly, Rúmil. Why did you agree to this arrangement?”

Rúmil squeezed the water out of his hair. “It was my idea, I spoke truthfully about that. Though my position is not so much catamite as it is entertainer. Lord Elrond is sad, and very alone. I know not if I should repeat this, but as you are my brothers I do not wish to hide things from you. I asked to be his catamite after he confessed to me that Lady Celebrian has forsaken both him and her immortal life. So deeply grieved was he by this that I feared he also would choose to forsake his life. I did not want to see that happen.”

He looked over at his brothers, and they were smiling at him. “You have a kind heart,” said Haldir softly.

“And a soft brain,” said Orophin, “but I am glad you told me this. It takes the anger out of my heart.”

“I am glad to know this,” said Rúmil. “Do not think I would do this for any other Elf. But please, not a word to anyone. Lord Elrond has chosen not to speak of this, and I do not wish it known I have told his secret.”

“We will tell no one,” said Orophin. He squeezed the water out of his clothing, then removed one boot and let the water pour from it. “A fire would be nice, I think.”

“Come to my tent,” said Rúmil, “we can dry ourselves there.”

Haldir gave Orophin a sidelong glance, and smiled. “A ‘tent’, he calls it.”

“At least the little slut is willing to share,” said Orophin.

“I am not a slut,” said Rúmil.

“He is right,” said Haldir. “Sluts give freely, our brother must be paid.”

Rúmil removed his wet shirt and slapped Haldir with it. “Come along or I shall leave you here to drip.”

They made their way to the yurt, entering its comfortable space and closing the door. Rúmil had expected to find Elrond there, but was not concerned to see he was not. There were many things to be done; he was most likely helping with the building. He and his brothers had a leisurely breakfast while their clothes dried, then the trio dressed and made their way to the construction site.

***---***

The little cave was cold and dark when Haldir entered it at sunset. He was disappointed, but not surprised. Rabbit would at times take Bramble into the wood and be gone for a day or two. However when Haldir lit a lamp, he was surprised to see the message stone was not on the table.

It was a piece of grey slate, polished by years of being in the river. When departing for any length of time, Rabbit would lay the stone out and use a piece of charcoal to leave a message on it in his own written language. The stone should be on the table now, bearing pictograms of a raven and a tree. If he meant to be gone longer than a day there would also be a drawing of a sun and moon. But the stone was washed clean and resting against a small chest.

A feeling of concern began to come over Haldir, and he felt his stomach clench. Picking up his bow and fighting knives, he went back into the cold evening and made his way to Erestor’s cottage. He reached it quickly, following the sound of Estorel bidding his parents make haste with his supper. He tapped on the door, and was greeted by Erestor.

“Haldir!” He glanced about. “You have not seen Elrond, have you?”

“Nay, I came to ask if you had seen Rabbit.”

“No, but that is hardly surprising. Although…” Erestor’s voice trailed off, and he looked thoughtful.

“What?” Haldir gently urged.

“Well Rabbit has been in the habit of bringing me a basket of crayfish or a rabbit or something. He either gives it to me or leaves it by the door.” Erestor looked over his shoulder at Glorfindel, who was settled in a rocking chair with Estorel. “Fin?”

“Yes darling.”

“Did Rabbit leave a basket for me?”

“Not that I noticed.”

Haldir felt sick. “Something has become of him.”

Erestor touched Haldir’s arm. “Let us not rush to conclusions. I am certain there is nothing to concern ourselves with.” He reached out and grasped his cloak: none other than the great blue beast that had been through so much with him. Behind him he heard Glorfindel stand up.

“And just where do you think you are going?”

“I am only going to see if I can call Rabbit,” said Erestor. “If we can find Rabbit we can find Elrond. He has not been seen all day, and of the two he is the one I am most concerned about.”

“Call Rabbit?” said Glorfindel. “Darling he could be anywhere. What do you plan to do?”

Erestor’s eyes glinted, and he smiled. He pulled the great cloak around himself and stepped into the cool evening. He heard Glorfindel and Haldir follow.

He stepped a short distance from the cottage, gazing about. Spying a likely perch, he made his way over to the large stone and climbed onto it. Glorfindel and Haldir watched with interest, as did the few Elves relaxing about a fire nearby. Erestor cleared his throat, then drew a deep breath.

The ensuing call startled all gathered, not so much because of its eerie quality, which they had grown accustomed to, but because it was coming out of Elrond’s chief advisor. The cry rose up hoarsely, then ended in a questioning note. Dead silence followed it. All froze, waiting.

Then came the response. Not the low moaning wail, but a child’s frightened and shrill voice shouting; “Sia!”

Haldir ran towards the sound, followed closely by a few other Elves and Mauburz, as well as Aragorn and Faramir. Erestor straightened his clothing then stepped primly down from the rock to take Estorel from Glorfindel. His lover was staring at him with disbelief.

“When did you learn to do that!?” he demanded.

Erestor smiled. “Well I can’t let you have all my secrets at once, then you will think I am dull.”

Glorfindel gave him a brief but passionate kiss. “We’ll discuss this when I get back.”

Erestor watched him race into the darkness with the other Elves, then returned to the warmth of his cottage. Once settled inside, he closed his eyes and asked the Valar to look after Elrond and Rabbit.

***---***

Bramble was terribly glad to see her father, and leapt into his arms, crying. It was some time before she was calm enough to make any sense.

“What are you doing here alone?” Haldir asked.

The small Elfling was looking around, her yellow-green eyes frightened. “I woke up and Sia was gone. So I waited for her, like she taught me. I waited and waited, and it got dark, but she never came back!”

She began rubbing her shoulder as though it pained her. Haldir gently pulled back the fabric of her little tunic, and saw a large bruise with a puncture mark in the middle of it. “Bramble,” he said, “what happened here?”

“The bee bit me there. But it wasn’t a real bee.”

“Bee?”

“The black bee. It bit me and I fell. Then I woke up and Sia was gone.”

Orophin picked something up from the ground and examined it before showing it to the child. “Is this the bee, bramble?”

She nodded. Haldir looked at the small, feathered dart.

“An ambush?” said Glorfindel, dubiously.

“No,” said Haldir. “Rabbit would have known if someone was lying in wait. It must have been a trap.”

Aragorn made a quiet noise of anger. “T’would seem Master Ferny’s cronies have been busy.”

Mauburz growled. “Time to make stoopid Orc-man tell us where they hiding!”

***---***

Elrond woke up slowly, forced from his dark slumber by the sheer weight of the stench of his cell. He knew the odor. Having once smelled it there was no mistaking it for anything else.

Troll shit.

He put out his hand to push himself up, and felt the disgusting matter press between his fingers. He made a sound of utter disgust, then tried to clean himself off. The cell however had not been tended in some time, and the troll had been kept there long. The floor was awash with its urine and feces.

Elrond made himself stand, then pulled off his robes, stripping down to his breeches. He closed his eyes and tried to steady himself, fighting back the nausea caused by the foul quarters and powerful drug. He heard the snarling of some great creature housed nearby, and wondered vaguely if he was going to be fed to it.

“Shut up!” someone bellowed at the creature, and Elrond heard it kick the door of its cell hard enough to rattle the adjoining wall.

“Just kill it,” another voice said wearily.

“No!” said a third. “If we kill it then it’s gold out of our pocket. Live Elves, he wants.”

“It’s no Elf, it’s a two-legged hellhound,” said the second voice. “Kill it and be done.”

“It don’t look like no Elf,” said a fourth voice.

“There, Bob and I agree,” said the second voice again. “Kill it and we won’t have to listen to it.”

“Rabbit,” whispered Elrond as understanding came to him.

He listened to the sound of Rabbit thrashing within the confines of his cell, and smiled grimly. “Yes why don’t you just open the door to his chamber you bastards,” he said quietly to himself. “We’ll have a lovely discussion about whether he’s an Elf after he decorates the room with your guts.”

Elrond bent and checked his garb for weapons, finding none. They had already been taken. He lay the robes over a particularly large pile of waste to make it look as though he was still laying there, then began examining his cell. There was no way he was staying there any longer than he had to.

The cell was built heavily and re-enforced with iron bars. It had indeed been built to house a troll, though where the great monster was now he neither knew now cared. He could only hope it had caused enough damage somewhere for an Elf to squeeze out. In the meantime, the voices continued to argue.

“Will, you go kill it,” said Bob.

“Bugger you, you go kill it,” said Will.

Bob sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll kill it ya lazy sod. Pass me the knife.”

Elrond listened as Bob trod heavily passed his cell, making his way towards Rabbit’s. He heard the sound of a key scraping in the old metal lock, then the explosion of a large body slamming through the open door. Elrond went to the tiny window of the cell and saw Rabbit literally tearing the half-Orc to bits. Bob was screaming in a wild shrill voice, begging for help, while his four mates barred the door at the end of the hall, leaving him to his fate.

“Rabbit!” he called sharply, and the wild Elf backed off, surprised. Bob was cowering on the floor, crying, too afraid to move.

“Rabbit,” said Elrond again. “Pass me his sword, then let me out.”

Rabbit took Bob’s sword, passing the weighty blade to Elrond. He found the key, but plainly did not know how it worked. He passed it to Bob and said coldly; “Open the door.”

Bob spat blood at him, and Rabbit tore a few holes in his face to teach him a little respect. Bleeding profusely and crying like a child, he opened the door to Elrond’s cell. Elrond emerged, and Rabbit jumped back as though he had been slapped. He sneezed, shaking his head, lips pulled back in disgust. Elrond shut the cell door, trying to cut down on some of the troll-odor.

“’ere!” said Bob. “You ain’t no female!”

Elrond slowly turned and fixed the bleeding half-Orc with an angry glare. “I beg your pardon?” he said icily.

“Well with the fancy dress you had on, we thought you was a princess.”

Rabbit sneezed explosively and shook his head, while Elrond gave Bob The Eyebrow. “’Princess?’”

“Well it’s hard to tell with Elfs. Yer always prancing and nancing around, and not a bloody one of you has a body bigger than a stick.”

Elrond wished he was cold-blooded enough to kick Bob in the teeth. Instead he crossed his arms and stared at him angrily. “Why don’t you and I make a little arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” said Bob hopefully.

“Yes. You answer my questions, and I will not let my friend here tear you to bits.”

Bob looked from Elrond to Rabbit, who was picking bits of Bob’s face from between his teeth as he paced. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Who is paying you to steal Elves out of my valley?”

“I don’t know that! I’m just the bloke what catches them! We rigs up trip lines, then bugger off and hide. Then we brings them here and holds them til the Buyer comes for them.”

‘That’s why Rabbit didn’t sense they were there,’ thought Elrond, ‘They were not there to sense.’

There came a loud banging on the door. “Bob you shut up in there about our business!”

“Then you come in here and make me if you’re so brave!”

The stench, noise, and closed quarters were making Rabbit tense. He paced relentlessly within the small confines, then leapt up and kicked the walls. He threw himself at them, searching for a way out, but each solid block seemed to only make him angrier.

Elrond dove out of the way as Rabbit came hurtling down the hall, levitating to bash at the door with his full body weight. It came apart under his assault, and he skidded into the room where the other four captors were seated. Rabbit’s only real intention was to escape, though doubtless the half-Orcs trapped in the room with the thrashing, kicking Plains-Elf did not know that. Elrond ran out after Rabbit, and was astonished at the damage he had caused in so brief a time. The table in the middle of the room was broken in half, the food and gold that had been resting upon it scattered in all directions. Chairs were over-turned, dishes smashed, wine spilled, and an oil lamp knocked over, its flame licking speculatively at the wall.

Rabbit hit the second door with his full weight, but this one did not break. One of the half-Orcs grabbed a crossbow and fired at him. He missed, and Rabbit, with a seamless grace Elrond would not have believed, spun and kicked, catching the man in the throat and sending him to the floor with a mortal injury.

The smoke from the small fire only served to make Rabbit more determined to find and exit, and the next door he slammed through let him into a room of young shrieking maidens. The screams brought him about sharply, and he headed straight back towards the half-Orc chasing him. He crashed into it, sending it into the wall, then, as it sank in a daze to the floor, gave it a parting head-kick for good measure.

Elrond had enough battle-sense to read a situation, and his sense right now was telling him the best thing to do was stay out of Rabbit’s way. He grabbed up a crossbow and shot Bob square in the heart as he attempted to shoot Rabbit.

Rabbit crashed over the remains of the table, then paused. He suddenly lunged at a boarded-up window, and finally succeeded in smashing his way to freedom. Then, despite whatever instincts were telling him to run, he came back into the room and returned to the hall where he and Elrond had been kept to see if any others were trapped there. Other than the five terrified mortal girls, there was no one. He bounded back into their chamber and told them to flee. They did not need to be told twice.

The two half-Orcs left were enraged almost beyond reason. One fired at Elrond, but succeeded only in grazing his throat. Elrond grabbed up a dagger and threw it with fearsome accuracy, splitting the Orc’s skull. The remaining half-Orc fell to his knees in surrender. Elrond bound his wrists behind his back and took him captive. There was much he wished to hear from this creature.

The structure was beginning to burn in earnest now, and he dragged the half-Orc with him out of the building and into the cold night. There he, Rabbit, the girls, and Will the half-Orc watched it burn. Finally Elrond looked at Rabbit, who was still tense, quivering like a horse readying to take flight.

“Rabbit, my friend,” Elrond said wearily, “I have not seen a fighting technique of that manner since I caught a mortal in my chambers attempting to seduce my wife.”

Rabbit snorted, then looked towards the burning building. “We should leave,” he said.

“We shall depart, have no fear of that.”

Elrond looked at the girls. They were no more than fourteen years of age, any of them. They were barely clad, and had no footwear of any sort. No doubt this was to discourage them from fleeing. The cold was of no hardship to him or Rabbit, but these children were not likely to get very far.

“We are not far from Imladris,” said Elrond. “Rabbit, could I prevail upon you to go for help?”

Rabbit nodded, then turned and bounded quickly into the darkness, all too happy to be away.

“What if more Orcs come?” asked one shivering girl.

“Then,” said Elrond, quietly, coldly, “I shall deal with them.”

***--***

Bill Ferny didn’t think the Elves would hurt him too badly; they were far too weak and soft-hearted to engage in torture. But old Strider certainly looked like he would inflict a little pain, though what the Elves were doing with a wandering loon like him, he had no idea. And then there was that bloody Uruk-Hai. Where did they get her from? Either way, he was not about to tell any of them about the little slave-ring they had operating just beyond the patrolled area of their valley. It was too profitable. And even if it had not been, if he got loose the lads would have his guts for garters for spilling.

Still, the Uruk-Hai was foaming about some berk called ‘Nice Lord Elrond’, and it did not look as though the little gimp Elf with the red hair could control her much longer. With them was the painted panty-boy, Rummy or some such git name, talking about him and the Orc playing Make-A-Wish with ol’ Billy’s bits. Then some freak with eyes the colour of burning topaz loped into view and inadvertently saved his life.

“Haldir,” said Rabbit, and his lover turned in surprise at the sound of his voice.

“Rabbit! By all the gods of Arda where have you been?”

“I shall take you. Is Bramble safe?”

“Yes, she’s with Erestor. Rabbit…”

“I shall show you. Lord Elrond waits. He has one captive, and five girl-children of Men. We should make haste lest they freeze.”

Bill Ferny was tossed unceremoniously back into his cell, and he watched the pack of flitting tree-huggers, their Orc and one ugly rock-scrabbling Dwarf follow the freak. In his blackened heart, he knew their operation had been found out.

“Ah crap,” he muttered.

***---***

Elrond found a pond and scrubbed off as much of the troll-filth as he could, then went back over to the girls. They were thin and malnourished, and their hair tangled and dirty. Elrond did not want to speculate on what their fate would have been had he and Rabbit not been caught.

The girls screamed bloody murder as a huge Orc came out of the woods and grabbed Elrond. The Elf-lord sighed resignedly, then smiled.

“Hello, Mauburz.”

“You hurt? Who I have to kill?”

“No one, dear friend, they are all dead. Save for this one, and I would be quite interested in hearing him speak. For now, however…”

Elrond felt the wind being knocked out of him as a second figure leapt on him, clad in the garb of a Galadhrim. It was Rúmil.

“You came!” said Elrond, a little surprised.

“Of course I came! Did you think I would lounge in my yurt and pray for a happy end?”

“You are not supposed to be getting attached to me, Rúmil.”

“I am not attached. Not in the least. In fact I can hardly stand you.” He hugged Elrond once more. “It is taking every bit of willpower I posses to act as though I care for you.” He sniffed. “My lord, I think perhaps you have mixed up your usual scent with the Eau D’Mordor.”

“No, I have not, though I believe I have found the key ingredient.” Elrond looked about, and was touched to see that virtually his entire house was there, including Gimli. He smiled. “I must thank you all for coming to my aid.”

“Well, we were not going to bother at first,” said Glorfindel, “But Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir seem to have some twisted fondness for you. And of course Mauburz would have tied our limbs into knots.”

“I thank you for troubling yourself,” said Elrond dryly. He reached out and put an arm around Aragorn’s neck. “Well I must say I am surprised to see you here.”

“Me? Why is that?”

“I should have thought you would rejoice at a chance to have me off your neck once and for all.”

“That,” said Aragorn, “is not amusing to me in the least.” He lay his head on Elrond’s shoulder.

***---***

Rabbit would normally take his bath cold, but he was covered in filth, and wanted to be clean. Cold water was fine for a little forest earth, but the disgusting matter he had been forced to lie in during his brief capture needed to be scoured away in water as hot as he could tolerate.

He took his first bath just to get the troll-dung off, then took a second to rid himself of the dirty water from the first. Rabbit then had a good roll in the stream just to feel like himself. Finally he dried off and returned to his cave.

Bramble was still in Erestor’s cottage, there having been no need to wake her. It meant he and Haldir could have a rare night alone, and he was looking forward to it as he made his way to the bed. He climbed onto it, then sat straddling Haldir and lowered his head to wrap his jaws around his face. Haldir continued to lie on his back, hands folded across his breast.

“Enjoy you baths, dear?” he asked dryly.

Rabbit pulled back and grinned, then moved to stretch out beside Haldir. He kissed him gently. “I did. Perhaps you and I should take one together sometime.”

“I should like that.”

Rabbit gently stroked his hand over Haldir’s hair, then touched his face, running his fingers down his throat before leaning forward to kiss him. “I was afraid tonight. Afraid I may not escape. Afraid I may be… subjected to what I had been long ago.” He lowered his head to rest it on Haldir’s chest, closing his eyes as he felt the Wood-Elf’s hand stroking his damp hair. “You would have come for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” said Haldir. “I would have sought you for as long as I could draw breath.”

Rabbit pressed closer, trying to draw comfort from his lover. He shivered, fear taking him in a manner it had not for many, many years. “I was near blind with terror; all I wished was to flee. And the screaming children. Too much, too many memories.”

He sat up abruptly, as though to escape the thoughts crowding his mind. He looked at the briar tattoo on his arm, the three fruit. “This is Wolf’s work,” he said quietly, running his fingers over the image. He turned to show it to Haldir, who sat up to look, though he had seen it many times. Two of the berries were red, and one was white. Haldir had never been able to make himself ask Rabbit the significance.

“That was my youngest,” said Rabbit, touching the white berry. “I recall his birth so clearly, in the hut by the pond. He came out… white. There is no other word for it. White. White hair, white skin. I had never seen anything like it, nor had the rest of the village. I showed him to Earth Mother, and he laughed. He said; “You must have lain in the snow to conceive that one, he was frozen in the womb!” So, we named him Frost. He was never quite right, but we loved him.” Rabbit shook his head as another bad memory hit him. He gave Haldir a pained look. “It is not good to be so white in dark places, when one needs to hide.”

Haldir touched Rabbit’s face. “You have never spoken of your children to me, save for the night beneath the bramble.”

“It is not easy to speak of them. It is not easy to speak of any of my folk, but least of all them. Being with Bramble makes me forget.”

“You would like another.”

“I would like the ones I had, but that is not possible. But yes, I would like another. I think… I think that is why, perhaps, my fertility cycle has been so soon in coming after Bramble. It is unusual for one of my kind to be prepared to conceive so soon after a birth. That, and the fact that for the first time in a very, very long time, I can say I am home, I am safe.”

Haldir rest his brow against Rabbit’s. “My dearest friend. Do you think Imladris would survive two Brambles?”

Rabbit grinned. “I think Imladris would fare better than poor Rúmil. Bramble was catching and feeding him crayfish yesterday.”

“And he ate them?”

“As I was lounging nearby, I believe he was afraid not to.”

“You really do have an evil streak, my love.”

“I do draw some pleasure from tormenting your brother, yes.”

Haldir reached down to touch Rabbit’s side, running his fingers over the scar from the arrow Rúmil had shot into him. He felt Rabbit move closer, smelled the warmth of his body. He inclined his head forward and kissed him gently.

“It just so happens,” said Haldir, gently pressing Rabbit down to the bed, “so do I.”

***---***

Mauburz walked, yawning as only an Uruk-Hai could, to her tent. The night had been long, but had ended well, and she was pleased. Elrond was home, safely soaking in a hot bath. Rabbit also was safe and sound in his cave with his family. The five girls had been settled into the tent Rúmil had occupied before being given the yurt. They were there now, overjoyed at a chance to have a hot bath, clean clothes, and decent food again. Doubtless they were still concerned over their future, but for now they were safe and warm.

She entered her tent, then paused, listening for the scamper of dozens of tiny paws. She heard nothing. Satisfied, she flopped onto her cot and wrapped herself in her blanket. Not long afterwards, she heard Rhimlan limp his way in, undressing and sliding into bed beside her. She smiled as the Elf curled up against her, and she put her arm around him.

A deep peace settled over the camp that lasted until dawn.

***---***

Glorfindel slid out of bed quietly, so not to awaken Erestor. He gently kissed him, then shoved some lembas into his mouth before dressing for morning patrol. He managed to shrug his way into some clothes, tied his hair back in a lazy knot, then made his way unsteadily towards the door. Despite his long years as a soldier, Glorfindel was not a morning Elf.

He quietly left the cottage, curling his lip at the pre-dawn sky, then whistled for Ithil before shifting his sword and gear into a more comfortable position. He heard the great horse come up behind him, and Glorfindel turned. Then stopped.

Ithil looked at him with innocent brown eyes, ears erect, tail swishing. He was the picture of health, not a thing wrong with him.

Except someone had painted giant pink and yellow flowers all over his black coat. His long flowing mane, once as black as the rest of him, was pink also, and styled into huge loopy curls. A huge bow held his forelock in place. His tail likewise was styled and curled, and he had bows around his hocks. Topping the whole mess off was a bouquet of pink flowers and ribbons where his tail met his rump.

“What happened to you!?” he asked.

Across the encampment, he heard an Uruk-Hai roar of anger. “WHY FOR DAMN MOUSES BACK?”