The Last Homely House
Chapter Sixteen

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: Just a lovely morning in the valley of the Barking Mad Elves.

Elrohir stepped out of his tent, and paused when he saw Gaelemir. The older Elf seemed to have been waiting for him, but Elrohir felt no desire to speak with him. He was about to leave, when Gaelemir stepped forward and put his hand out.

“Stay but a moment, if you would, Lord Elrohir.”

Elrohir stopped, and watched Gaelemir approach him. “What is it you desire?” he asked, his tone cold.

“The same thing you do,” said Gaelemir. “Though I feel there is no need for the rivals to nurture bitter feelings. In truth, if either of us is at a disadvantage, it is I young Lord. Frost has never held great love for warriors. His fondness has ever been for those who practice the gentler arts.”

Elrohir permitted himself a slight smile. “Indeed? However I feel you are not correct in this matter. It is you who has the advantage of long friendship.”

“Then we both begin this game with a card in our favour. Let us see which of us plays his hand best, and wins Mir’s heart. And agree there shall be no ill feelings between us, no matter who wins.”

Elrohir smiled a little more broadly. “Agreed. But if you will excuse me, I have duties that need attending. I bid you good day.”

Elrohir began making his way towards the healer’s tent. He reached it, and was a little surprised to see Glorfindel seated outside, enjoying the sun. He was leaning on a slender, carved ebony staff, his white hair loose around his shoulders.

“Mae Govannen, Lord Glorfindel! Where is Master Erestor?”

“In your father’s office.”

“Ah, then Rosie and Sam brought you here.”

“They are walking by the river.”

Elrohir paused. “Then how did you get here?”

“I have feet, pup. I walked!” He rose, slowly, a little unsteadily, leaning on his staff. He rose to his full height, his clear but unseeing eyes focused on some unknown point. “I may be blind and lame but I am no invalid. Did Gaelemir find you?”

“Yes, he did,” said Elrohir, following Glorfindel into the tent. The older Elf found a chair and sank into it.

“And he gave you a load of rubbish about cards in one’s favour and other such nonsense, I’ll warrant. The same load of warg-leavings he gave to me when he and I were both battling over Ecthelion. Let me tell you something you need to know, penneth. Gaelemir cheats at cards.”

“Cheats?! How can that be? He seems so…”

“Honorable? Repentant? A true gentleman? That scoundrel taught me every bad habit I have and harbours several I’m sure he still hasn’t shown me. He’s a bigger rogue than I could ever hope to be. Mark my words, somewhere in this encampment there is a doll in your image with pins in it and a noose about its neck. But you do have something in your favour.”

“What could I possibly have, now that you have told me this?”

Glorfindel grinned nastily, an expression Elrohir had never seen on his father’s beloved seneschal. “Me.”

***---***

Gaelemir waited until Elrohir was out of sight, then slipped into his tent. He smiled as he saw Frost resting against the pillows, and stepped into the tent, walking quietly over to the bed to sit beside him. He realized as he sat down that he was asleep, and reached out to gently touch the Plains Elf’s fair face.

He noticed a covered basket resting on the bedside table, with a note on it written in Elrohir’s elegant penmanship. ‘In case you were hungry. I shall see you later. Love Elrohir.’

Gaelemir tore up the note and hid the bits in his boot. Then he bent to softly kiss Frost into wakefulness. Frost stirred and made a quiet sound, then opened his eyes. He smiled at the person seated before him.

“Gaelemir, hello. Where is Elrohir?”

“At the healing tent. Here, I brought you a few things in case you were hungry. You have to keep your strength up, you know.”

“Thank you Gaelemir, that was very considerate of you.” He carefully sat up, checking himself mentally for pain. He felt fine, but did not wish to tempt fate, and positioned himself carefully. He took the basket from Gaelemir and set it on his lap, then pulled back the cloth cover. He gasped with delight.

“Breakfast rolls! Thank you! Who told you I liked them? I thought only Elrohir knew.”

“Ah, well you know me. I have my ways of finding things out.”

Frost pulled out a small bottle and smiled. “And blueberry spread. Thank you Gaelemir, this is very sweet of you. Care for one?”

“Yes, thank you.” He seated himself on the bed and took one of the soft rolls from the basket. “So how came you to be injured?”

Frost cringed inwardly. “I am not injured, Gaelemir.”

“Ill, then.”

“I am neither injured nor ill. I do not wish to speak of this.”

Gaelemir was a little taken aback by the abrupt tone of Frost’s voice. “I apologize if I have upset you, I was merely concerned.”

Frost’s demeanor softened, and he sighed quietly. “I know you are, Gaelemir.” Frost contemplated whether to tell his old friend the truth. Finally, he said; “I lost a child three nights ago. Elrohir and Elrond did not want me alone in my hut. So I have been taking up Elrohir’s bed while he has slept in the chair.”

“I am most grieved to hear this.”

“I do not wish to speak of it further.”

“Of course not, nor shall I force you. So, you and Elrohir are not… together?”

“I should think not, I lost a lover I had been with for a very long time but a few months ago. It is not my habit to take up with someone right after such a loss.” Frost set down the roll and buried his face in his hands. “I am sorry, Gaelemir, I fear I am not very good company right now. Please, forgive me.”

Gaelemir reached out to take one of Frost’s hands, gently drawing it down. “It is I who am sorry. I came in here, waking you, and plying you with prying questions. I shall leave you to rest, then come back later to see how you are faring.”

Frost smiled wearily. “I thank you Gaelemir. May our next visit be more cheerful.”

Gaelemir smiled, squeezing the long, strong hand. He kissed Frost’s face, then rose off the bed and departed. Once outside of the tent, he paused, and his eyes came to rest upon the cottage. He grinned, and began making his way to the little stone and wood structure.

***---***

“What colour did you get?”

“Green and….oh! Bright orange. Very pretty, don’t you think?”

“Very pretty. I have yet to meet an Elf who does not look good in orange. Though the blue suited Orophin nicely.”

“So I noticed. He’s even begun streaking his hair with it on his own.”

“Maybe we can convince him red-heads have more fun. Pass me the pot, Pip.”

“As you wish, Lady Veet. And might I suggest we make a very effective pair.”

Veet sat down on a large rock near her hidden encampment and began carefully rigging her little paint trap. “Well I have long felt some of my kin could do with a bit of humour. And if Ada is going to be such a grouch with me for daring to suggest he was wrong to disinherit Legolas, then I may as well stay here and play. Do you not agree, sister dear?”

Liritar came to sit beside Veet, passing her a small pot. “Oh I agree with everything you say, sister dear.”

“That’s a load of donkey poo.”

“I agree with that as well. Merry, did you find the honey with the ants in it?”

“Right here,” said Merry, passing her a small jar of oddly speckled honey. He looked up as the sea dragon came ambling into view, and smiled at the great beast. He rose to his feet and bowed.

“A very fair day to you, Lady Syrdanna! What humble service may I perform for you?”

The huge green creature came to the Hobbit and nuzzled him gently, nudging him over to the Elf-women. Pippin came to stand next to Merry, reaching up to touch the silky scales over her snout. She nuzzled him as well, nudging him closer to Merry and the Elves.

Then she opened her mouth and snapped up all four of them in one bite. Looking pleased with herself, disregarding the shrieks and the kicking of the four pairs of feet protruding from her lips, she turned and, like a gigantic cat with a family of mice, turned and made her way to Elrond’s office.

***---***

Elrond heard the scraping of great claws on the doorframe, then looked up as he saw the green dragon shove her massive head into his office. There was something wrong with her face, and it took him a moment to realize that was he was looking at was two pairs of Elvish boots and two pairs of Hobbit feet, all jumbled together. As he watched, absolutely at a loss as to what to make of the situation, Syrdanna spat out a soggy heap of Elves, Hobbits, clothing, and three pots of dye, along with one pot of ant-riddled honey. She then stretched her neck out so she could reach his lunch, stealing a roast chicken before withdrawing and heading towards the main encampment.

Veet sat up and distastefully pulled her slobbered hair back from her face. “Icky!” she wailed.

“Double icky,” said Liritar, looking down at her sodden dress.

Merry and Pippin slowly sat up, covered in dragon drool and dye, as were Veet and Liritar. As Elrond stared at the disgraceful mess on his office floor, it suddenly occurred to him what had just happened. Syrdanna had just caught his pranksters.

“If I had been told by someone but a few months ago I would be pleased to have a dragon in my valley I would have thought them mad,” he said. He smiled as he watched the four slowly turn to look at him, their expressions more than payment enough for what they had put him through. But he could not let them off so easily.

He glanced over his shoulder at the guard standing nearby. “Amrun, please tell Mistress Straggler we have found her four new volunteers.”

He grinned. “At once, Lord Elrond!” Amrun positively pranced as he crossed the floor to find Mauburz and seal their doom.

“Can we at least wash up first?” asked Veet.

Amrun came back into the room moments after leaving; as fate would have it, Mauburz was just coming into Elrond’s office. She crossed her arms and stared down at them, looking very large indeed.

“You wash after latrine is cleaned.”

“Icky,” said Merry.

***---***

Elrond finished with the bit of work he had, then retired to his own pavilion. He found Rúmil seated on the bed, carefully opening and closing his fist. He offered his Lord a weary but victorious grin.

“I can move my hand,” he said.

Elrond came to sit beside him, putting his arm around him and kissing his face. “Oh Rúmil I am glad to see this! I knew the muscle would heal, but it has done so very quickly.” He gently took the hand between his, marveling at how even the scars were fading quickly. Soon the crushing bite Rabbit had given Rúmil would be all but gone.

“I had a very good healer,” he said softly.

Elrond smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I cannot take full credit, you were a most compliant patient.”

“I can think of worse places to be than your bed.”

“How is your stab wound?” The Elf Lord moved closer, his long hand sliding over the bandage across Rúmil’s middle.

“Well enough,” said Rúmil. He closed his eyes, enjoying the light touch of his lover, even through bandages. Then he felt a wash of sickness and guilt come over him, and he turned away. “Elrond I do not deserve your love anymore. I am a kin-slayer. I should be executed and my body thrown into a pit for Erestor’s crows to eat.”

Elrond pulled back, shocked. “Rúmil what are you saying? I told you Ithilian’s death was not your fault.”

“It was. I did not tell you everything about that night.” Rúmil turned to look at Elrond, green eyes meeting brown. “Have you never wondered why you survived, when little Ithilian was found with his neck crushed so badly it was nearly off his shoulders?”

Elrond nodded slowly. “I wondered, yes.”

“I was watching the assault, watching this monster murder you. And I screamed ‘No, not him! Anyone but him!’ And it heard me. It laughed. It said, ‘Very well, who shall I kill then?’ I did not want it to kill anyone, how can I make a choice like that? But it had you by the throat, and you were dying, and I… had to choose. I thought… I thought the green dragon was still outside. So I said; ‘The next living creature you see.’ I thought the dragon would kill us both. But she had followed Aragorn, who was carrying the chest.”

He lowered his head, shivering with emotion, unable to continue.

“And the next living being you saw was Ithilian,” said Elrond softly.

“I bartered with his life, as though it was nothing more than goods to be traded!”

“Rúmil you did not wish for this thing to kill anyone. You saved my life. Had this thing not been inside you, would you have raised a hand to me? To Ithilian? To Erestor or Glorfindel or Rabbit?”

“No. I would not have.”

“Then do not carry this with you! It was not you who killed Ithilian. You were willing to give your own life to save all of us, that was what you tried to do! You did not know the dragon had followed Aragorn.” He gently took Rúmil’s head between his hands and looked into the wet green eyes. “You did nothing wrong Rúmil, not even to poor Ithilian. Do not let this monster claim you too.”

“But… I…”

Elrond gently kissed him. “Rúmil, if our situation were reversed, if I were the one who had been possessed, would you not be saying the same to me? That I had tried to give my own life, to not harm another?”

“I think I would. But I feel so badly…”

Elrond gently pulled him close. “I know you do, my love. But waste no more tears on this matter. You did not kill Ithilian. Now lie down, you need to rest, and mend. I shall need you strong, for when the time comes, I want you to be the one to slay the fiend who has done this to you.”

They lay down on the large bed together, Rúmil pressing close to the older Elf. He closed his eyes, but rest did not come easy. For a long time he simply clung to his lover, shivering.

***---***

Gaelemir came up behind Erestor, slipping his arms around his slender waist, nuzzling his black hair. He smiled as Erestor leaned back against him, thinking he was Fin. He tossed his hair to one side, letting the other Elf nuzzle the white flesh, then lowered his head to speak to the baby he held.

“Your Ada has finally decided to come home! Shall we ask him what he has been up to all this time?”

Gaelemir stepped back in surprise. “’Ada’? FIN?!”

Erestor spun around. “Gaelemir! What is the meaning of you creeping up on me in such a manner?” He turned and carried the sleeping baby to the crib, setting him in it.

Gaelemir was still standing with his jaw hanging open, trying to make the words ‘Fin’ and ‘Ada’ mesh in his mind. “The baby is Glorfindel’s?”

“Yes, Estorel is Fin’s child.”

“Ai, all Arda is in danger! Who may I ask is the child’s poor mother?”

Erestor seemed to grow, his eyes blazing. Gaelemir stepped back, startled by the change. Erestor meanwhile made up his mind that if Gaelemir wished to be offensive about his heritage, then he would have a fight on his hands.

“I am. ‘Sia’, I believe is the proper word for it.”

Gaelemir shook his head. “Sia? I do not know that word. You… bore him?”

“I try not to.”

“No! Erestor, you gave birth to this child?”

“I did. And the first word out of you about my being a half-Orc…”

“My dear fair Erestor I would say no such thing to you! But I was under the impression you were a Wood-Elf of Noldo!”

“I am. But I also carry within me the blood of the Plains Elves. I am both.”

Gaelemir stepped forward, embracing Erestor. “My dear friend, how could you think I would consider you any the less than what you are?” He kissed his brow, then stepped back, smiling. “I do not think you know this, but I have been a friend of Mir… the one you call Frost, for a very long time. I know what it is you are, and my friend you are no Orcish changeling. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Erestor smiled. “Thank you, Gaelemir.”

“Now, you say Fin is misplaced?”

“He went to the healer’s tent to have his leg checked, I think he may still be there.”

“Then I shall go for him.” Gaelemir bowed. “I shall return with your errant husband.”

Gaelemir left the cottage, a grin on his face, his step light, and a song in his heart. Any who watched him make his way across the encampment, whistling merrily, would have sworn there was not a dark thought anywhere within his being.

Gaelemir however did have a small dark spot. It was deep within, a tiny blight on his soul, one that perhaps he himself did not even know about. But it was there all the same, and over the many centuries it had not gone away.

Glorfindel recalled the battle for Ecthelion’s affections as a lark, a bit of fun to brighten the darkness of war, and Ecthelion had viewed the contest in much the same way. But it had not been a lark for Gaelemir. He had loved Ecthelion with a passion, and when Glorfindel won him, he was crushed. Then, less than a year later, Glorfindel and Ecthelion ended their relationship, but on good terms. Gaelemir once more tried for Ecthelion, but never had the chance to win him. Days later, he died in battle.

Gaelemir had never, ever, forgiven Glorfindel for taking something so precious from him. The last year of Ecthelion’s life should have been spent with him. Perhaps things may have even been different. Perhaps Ecthelion would have lived. He would never know now. But there was one thing he did know; he had vowed to somehow, someday, get Glorfindel back for what he had done. And now he knew what he would do. The plan would take time, and care, and there was much he had to learn about Plains Elves, but he knew now how he was going to get Glorfindel back, and hurt him as deeply as he had been hurt.

The father of Erestor’s next child would be him.

***---***

Legolas sat on the grass next to Mauburz. The large Uruk-Hai was watching Veet and Liritar scrub the latrines, wailing loudly as they did so, both still covered in slobber. Syrdanna was lying on her belly, feasting daintily on roast venison: her reward for freeing Imladris from the Paint Pot Pranksters. Merry and Pippin were currently shoveling out Ithil’s stall, and the huge black horse was letting them know exactly what he thought of their presence.

Beside Mauburz sat Faramir and Lindir, who was holding Miss Goose close to his breast as he watched the mortal carve a wooden flute. Miss Goose was once more in her usual bonnet and ribbon. Much to everyone’s delight, Feronil was avoiding Lindir like the plague.

Elentar came to stand near the four, watching Liritar attempt to get out of more cleaning by falling down and feigning death. Veet quickly brought her back to life by threatening her with something unpleasant she had found in one of the stalls. Ilinuil seated himself on the grass near Faramir.

“Do I dare ask what is going on?” said Elentar.

“We are witnessing the punishment of the fiends who have been plaguing us with bad practical jokes,” said Legolas.

“Those two maids? Surely it could not have been them!”

Legolas, whose childhood had been a nightmare of frilly dresses, ribbons, and make-up, slowly turned to look at the huge Elf. “I would put nothing past those two. I would not be surprised in the least to find they have in their possession the Silmarils, the missing palantirs, an oliphant and a few Elves who do not know the war is over.”

Elentar shrugged, then glanced down at Legolas. He was plainly an Elf, but was dressed Dwarf-fashion, and had his hair in long side-plaits. Next to him was an Uruk-Hai in Elven armor, and beside her was an adult Elf with the unbraided hair of a child, clutching a toy goose. Finishing off the assortment was a mortal with splashes of dye all over his face. Elentar cleared his throat, then looked at Legolas.

“Forgive my ignorance, but why are you dressed as a Dwarf?”

“I am a Dwarf.”

Elentar pondered this, then said; “No, you are an Elf.”

“No I am a Dwarf. I had a very bad accident.”

“Oh. Ah, very sorry to hear that.” He turned to look at Mauburz. “And you?”

“Me Elf. Caught in same bad accident he was.”

“Ah.” He looked at Lindir. “And what about you, young sir?”

“Well I’m not anything yet, but when I grow up I think I’d like to be a Ranger like Mr. Faramir. Miss Goose probably won’t like traveling, but I think she’ll be okay as long as I have a good tent.”

Elentar looked at Faramir. “So you are a Ranger?”

Faramir gathered up the small leafy twigs he had cut from the branch he was carving. He stuck one behind his ear and said; “Sir, I am no Ranger. I… am a shrubbery.”

Mauburz and Legolas howled with laughter, while Lindir just grinned quietly.

“So the sign was right,” said Elentar. “’Welcome to Fair Imladris, Home of the Barking Mad Elves.’”

“That does seem to be an adequate description,” said Legolas.

Just then Elrohir went racing by in his robes, hair askew, circlet half off, heading for his father’s tent.

“I like this place,” said Elentar. “Everyone is mad.”

Ilinuil shifted a little closer to Faramir. The tall, quiet Elf was very slender and graceful, and his mane of fine silver hair often played across his delicate features. In truth he looked more like a dancer than a warrior, but if the tales could be believed, he, as Glorfindel and Gaelemir, was one of the three Elves on Arda able to put flight to a Nazgûl.

“What are you making?” he asked, his voice soft as always.

Lindir plunked himself next to Faramir, linking his arm through the man’s. “It’s a bird whistle,” he said, his tone not unpleasant, but it was plain his hackles were up. The message was clear, and Ilinuil pulled back, mildly surprised. Then Lindir looked up as he heard Master Erestor’s voice.

“Lindir! Enough play, time for lessons.”

Lindir obediently got up and left. After he was gone, Faramir, Legolas and Mauburz exchanged glances.

“Correct me if I am wrong,” said Legolas. “But did our little Lindir just have a fit of jealousy over Faramir?”

“It certainly looked that way,” said Faramir.

“Well congratulations,” said Legolas, smiling. “I think you are Arda’s Oldest Elfling’s first crush.”

Mauburz sniffed and pouted, a very odd expression indeed for an Orc. “They grow up too fast,” she said.

***---***

Elrohir, with absolutely no thought for how it may look, ran from the healer’s tent to his father’s pavilion. He ran in and leapt on the bed, waking both Elrond and Rúmil, who had only just quieted enough to rest.

“ADA!” yelled Elrohir, jumping up and down on the bed. “ADADADADADADADADADADADADADA…!”

“What?!” yelled Elrond.

Elrohir leapt off of the bed and grabbed his father’s hand, practically pulling him off the bed. “Adayouhaftacomeseerightnow!!!!”

Elrond looked at Rúmil. “Rúmil if you are part Plains Elf tell me now. Because one more child may kill me.”

Rúmil actually laughed, and that did more than anything to brighten Elrond’s mood. He placed his hand on his lower stomach and said; “Well I have been meaning to talk to you…”

“Rúmil that is not humourous,” said Elrond, who was trying not to laugh as his son dragged him off.

Rúmil lay back and grinned, closing his eyes. Elrond meanwhile was being hauled in a most undignified fashion across the encampment.

“Elrohir if you do NOT settle down THIS INSTANT!”

“Ada you gotta see I FIXED HIM ADA!”

Elrond was shoved into the darkened healer’s tent. There, seated on a chair, was Glorfindel. Elrond sat down before him, glad at least his seneschal had not witnessed this nonsense. He shoved his hair back, and gently took Glorfindel’s head between his hands. “Now what is this child so excited about?”

Glorfindel was oddly silent. Elrohir had become quiet as well, and passed his father a small lamp. Elrond moved it slowly back and forth. As he feared, the pupils did not react.

At first.

Elrond froze as he noticed the faintest flicker of movement in the left pupil. He slowly drew the light back, watching. Slowly, the pupil moved. Just a slight bit, but it did indeed move.

“Fin are you seeing any of this?” Elrond asked softly.

“I am not sure. I do not know if I am seeing anything, or if I am just hoping so fervently…”

Elrond turned from Glorfindel, adjusting the light of the small lamp. Saying nothing, he held it up, carefully moving it closer.

The pupil reacted, and Glorfindel blinked.