The Last Homely House
Chapter Twenty One

Rating: NC-17
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: Faramir and Lindir work a few things out, while Rabbit meets someone he has not seen in a long time. Master Erestor has an off day, and Gaelemir learns his limits.

“Do!”

“Don’t!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yes!”

“You’re wrong!” said Krit, cuddling her pet cat, Ireth. The large and furry beast was washing her paws, wholly disinterested in the heated discussion amongst the children.

“No, you are wrong!” said Polly Lark, a little girl whose adopted mother frequently traded apples with the Elves of Imladris.

Polly was an Elfling, whose real parents had been killed by Orcs. A mortal woman found her, and thought her simply a human child with strange ears. The truth became clear when she brought the child with her on a trip to sell apples, and Lord Elrond told he she had found an Elf-child. Anna Blacksmith had been permitted to keep Polly because she was known for her large heart and cheerful nature, and now she and her blond daughter were common sights in Imladris, arriving weekly with their pony to deliver apples and other things. Polly was currently seated with her doll firmly on her lap, tiny body rigid with indignation.

Meril was equally indignant. His own parents had come down to visit Haldir for his begetting day, and, true to his nature, he had quickly sparked the argument. “Babies come in baskets!”

“No they don’t!” said Polly heatedly. “Yavanna hides them under Mallorn leaves! Nana Anna told me so!”

Anna had not quite fibbed to the child; in their case the Mallorn leaf tale was certainly true. But Meril had his own theories.

“They come in baskets!” he insisted loudly. “My Nana even used to say before my sister was born that she had one in her basket!”

“You’re ALL wrong!” Krit said. “I know where they really come from!”

“Okay if you are so smart! Where do babies come from?”

“The South!” she announced. “They’re shaved monkeys!”

Silence greeted this announcement, then Meril said; “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard!”

Lindir sat down with the three children and reached out to pat Ireth. “You’re all wrong, you know!” he said. He then, with great glee, proceeded to tell them in glaring detail where babies came from. Krit, Meril and Polly were unimpressed.

“That’s what Plains-Elves do!” said Meril dismissively. “Wood-Elf babies come in baskets.”

“They are found under MALLORN LEAVES!” shouted Polly.

“SHAVED MONKEYS!” yelled Krit.

Lindir thought about what Meril had said. Perhaps he was right about only Plains-Elf babies coming that way. Suddenly he had an epiphany.

“Hey!” he said. “Maybe Yavanna finds a monkey, shaves it, wraps it in a Mallorn leaf and puts it in a basket so the Nana can carry it home.”

And just where does Yavanna get the basket?” asked Polly, unconvinced.

“The Halflings make them for her. There are lots of baskets made by Halflings in the cellar,” said Lindir.

“That could work,” said Krit.

“Yeah,” said Polly. “Thank the Valar we don’t potty them out like the Plains-Elves do!”

“Yeah,” said Lindir. “After Mr. Faramir and I watched Hunting Fox have his Elflings, I didn’t want to ever go potty again, but I couldn’t hold it.”

The four heard a strange sound, and looked in the direction of Rabbit. The large Plains-Elf was stretched out on the bank of the river, where he had been keeping an eye on the children who had gone there to swim. He was currently laughing so hard tears were running down his face and he could hardly make a sound.

“Mr. Rabbit, are you all right?” asked Lindir.

Rabbit howled with laughter and rolled onto his back. It was some time before he could respond. Finally he sat up, wiping his eyes.

“I’m fine, Lindir. I just… need a swim.” Still giggling and snorting with barely controlled laughter, he began making his way to the clear water. He paused as he saw his daughter come running towards him with something clutched in her little hands.

“Sia!”

Rabbit crouched to see what she had. Visibly upset, Bramble passed something small and furry to her Sia.

“Can you fix it?” she asked, green eyes wet. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Rabbit carefully took the small bundle of fur, and saw it was a fox kit. It was covered in blood and shaking with fear, its tiny shoulder lacerated. It looked as though a hawk had grabbed it, but then either changed its mind or somehow dropped it. The cut did not look serious.

“Are you gonna eat it?” asked Meril with great enthusiasm. He had been dying to see Rabbit eat something whole and alive since he got there.

“No!” said Rabbit and Bramble together.

“Awwwwwww….”

Rabbit gently cleaned the small beast, then gave it to Bramble to hold while he went to find some herbs. He came back with a few leaves, and crushed them with his fingers, letting the liquid drip into the cut.

“That will stop it from hurting, and keep it clean.”

“What are you going to do with it?” asked Krit, cuddling her furry cat close.

“Eat it!” enthused Meril.

Rabbit studied the small frightened animal, and suddenly had an image of a chubby Elfling playing in the mud, a red fox named Isa under one arm. He smiled.

“Bramble,” said Rabbit, “I think you just found a begetting day gift for your Ada that will make him very, very happy.”

“Is he gonna eat it?” asked Meril.

Rabbit looked at Meril, green-gold eyes narrowing. “Meril, I do not usually eat Elflings, but in your case I am most tempted to make an exception.”

“You won’t eat me,” said Meril. “Ada says all the time he’d kill me if he did not think Námo would personally bring me back.”

Anna and Minuial came into the clearing, Minuial with a small Elfling girl toddling beside her. Anna did not know it, but she was frequently referred to as ‘Miss Elladan’, because the mortal woman looked, oddly, a lot like him. Elladan had been less than amused to hear himself called ‘Mr. Anna.’ The two were no relation, but the similarities amused many.

“Polly, time to head home,” said Anna.

Polly gathered up her doll and went with her mother, and Meril went off with his own Nana. Krit stood up and went after Meril and his mother, her great furry cat following along daintily.

“Lindir?” said Rabbit.

Lindir turned to look at the large Elf. Rabbit was wet and shaggy, wearing an old pair of cut off breeches and a loose white shirt, opened at the throat. Lindir wondered how he always managed to look as though he had just escaped a pirate ship.

“Yes Mr. Rabbit?”

“We are going back to the cave. Do you want me to walk you home first?”

Lindir noticed movement by the river. He turned to look, and his knees went weak when he saw Faramir, clad in his green ranger garb, streaks of green across his face to help him hide better amongst the foliage. He had his longbow with him, and a deer. He bent by the stream to wash the blood off his hands, his shaggy brown hair falling down around his face. Lindir sat down hard on a large stone without meaning to.

“That’s okay Mr. Rabbit, I’ll just sit and talk with Faramir a while.”

Rabbit nodded. He took Bramble’s hand, and the two left. Lindir made himself get up, and came to stand beside Faramir.

“That’s a large deer, how did you carry it?”

Faramir was getting used to being crept up on by Elves. It had bothered him at first, but he had since learned the Elves didn’t mean to creep. They just naturally made no sound.

“Hello Lindir. It wasn’t easy, but he will be lighter to carry after I clean him.”

“How do you clean a deer?”

Faramir rose to his feet and smiled at the young Elf. “You’ve never cleaned a deer?”

Lindir shook his head.

“Would you like to help?”

If Faramir had asked Lindir if he would like to go study the mating habits of ferns, he would have said yes. The Elf nodded.

“All right. Well find a place to set Miss Goose, and I will string up the deer.”

Lindir set Miss Goose down on a stone so she could watch, the early summer sun making the gold embroidery around her neck shine. Miss Goose had lost a disagreement with Anna’s fox terrier. In an attempt to make amends, Anna had sewn Miss Goose’s head back on, then embroidered her a fancy gold collar to hide the injury. Lindir had informed Anna that Miss Goose was most pleased, and was not angry with the dog anymore. However, Miss Goose had since learned to stay away from the small, energetic beast.

Lindir turned to watch Faramir finish tying the deer’s back legs together with a length of Elven rope. He tossed the other end of the rope over a tree branch, then began hauling on it until the deer was suspended. Faramir tied off the rope, and pulled a large hunting knife out of its sheath at his waist. He then slashed the throat of the deer. Blood washed out in a scarlet stream, splattering down onto the ground and forming a gory puddle. Faramir rinsed his knife and left the deer to bleed. He turned to look at Lindir, and stopped.

Linder was the same shade of greenish-white he had been the night he had watched Fox give birth. He slowly sank down to the ground, his hand over his stomach. Faramir ran towards him, gently getting Lindir to his feet and leading him to a softer, grassy area, out of site of the bleeding carcass.

“Lindir are you all right?”

The Elf looked at him with clear blue eyes. “You said you were going to clean it.”

“Yes, I did. Clean it of blood and entrails.”

Lindir put a hand out to support himself, running the other hand through his hair. “I really don’t feel well.”

“Just sit, you’re okay.” Faramir put his arms around him, holding him close against his chest, smiling.

Lindir felt his throat go tight and his breath catch, his eyes growing wide as he felt the Man holding him. He could smell the scent of leather, and another, more subtle, musky scent, that was Faramir himself. He could hear his heart beating, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was frightening and wonderful at the same time, and brought forth a rush of emotions he had successfully kept at bay for a very long time.

He shivered nervously, wanting to stay and wanting to go at the same time. Then suddenly his breeches felt tight, and he knew if he stood up right then he would die a million times over of embarrassment. He also felt oddly out of control, as though his body had suddenly developed a will separate from his own. It was frightening, and he huddled against Faramir.

“Are you all right, Lindir?” asked Faramir gently, rubbing his back as he would with a frightened child. He sensed all was definitely not well with the Elf, but the true nature of his dilemma escaped him.

Lindir nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Faramir hugged him gently. “You want me to take you home?”

“No,” said Lindir, his voice quiet and rusty.

Faramir was becoming increasingly worried about the Elf shivering in his arms. He knew some Elves could be very sensitive to the sight of blood, as with some Men. But the blood seemed to have upset Lindir far more than was common. He put his hand under Lindir’s chin and gently raised his head so he could look into his eyes.

Lindir gasped audibly as their eyes met. He was shaking, and the blue eyes were wet and sparkling. Faramir gently stroked his cheek. “Oh, poor Lindir. I had no idea you would react this way.”

“Me either,” said Lindir softly.

“You rest, and I’ll carry you home in a little while.”

Lindir nodded, still looking at Faramir’s eyes. They were brown, and gentle, with spikes of lighter colour in them. He could have stared at them forever. Faramir, meanwhile, was beginning to sense that he was perhaps mistaken about the cause of Lindir’s current emotional state. He felt the Elf shift closer, and suddenly it was the man who felt nervous. Cautiously, clumsily, Lindir edged closer, and pressed his lips against Faramir’s.

Faramir was, for one of the few times in his life, at a complete loss as to what to do. He knew Lindir had a crush on him, but frankly it had been hard to take it seriously, since Lindir was not much more than a very tall twelve year old. But then again, Faramir reminded himself, twelve year olds could be subjected to some intense emotions. Arda’s oldest Elfling, it seemed, had finally reached puberty.

The kiss ended, and Faramir had no idea what to do. Lindir was beautiful, there was no denying that. But he was a child. Faramir thought about how to extract himself from this situation without devastating Lindir, when Erestor came, accidentally, to the rescue.

“Lindir! Where are you? You’re late for your language lesson.”

‘Oh praise the Valar!’ thought Faramir emphatically.

“I have to go,” said Lindir softly, becoming shy and awkward.

“All right,” said Faramir. “I will see you later.”

Lindir smoothed down his tunic, standing up slowly. He went to get his goose, picking her up and holding her against his chest. He glanced once more at Faramir, then left. Once he was out of sight, Faramir slapped his hands over his face and shook his head.

“Oh what am I supposed to do?” he groaned. He rose to his feet, then made his way back to the deer to finish cleaning it.

***---***

“Gaelemir…”

“I only wish to speak with you.”

“I do not wish to speak with you!” Erestor gently set Estorel down on a blanket on the floor, where the increasingly active Elfling could engage in his favorite game: tossing toys, then chasing after them to toss again.

Erestor brushed passed Gaelemir. The day was hot, and rather than his usual robes, Erestor was wearing a light shirt, and breeches that formed well to his slight body. Tall boots completed the outfit. Despite his annoyance, Gaelemir could not help but admire the black-haired Elf’s fine body as he walked to the door to call his student.

“Lindir! Where are you? You’re late for you language lesson.” He turned, and almost walked into Gaelemir. The large Elf took hold of his shoulders and stared fiercely into his eyes.

“Erestor, you are his friend, you can convince him to speak with me.”

Erestor stared back icily, unafraid. “Gaelemir, Ecthelion has chosen not to speak with you. Given your actions around here, I am not terribly surprised by that. You deny your husband in public, actively pursue Frost, and now you drop him to chase Ecthelion, whom you know is with the smith.”

Gaelemir waved a hand dismissively. “A blacksmith! Ecthelion is worth more than that!”

“I say that is for him to decide. And might I say, Gaelemir, that from what I have seen, you are no improvement.”

Gaelemir actually raised his fist, a move that had never failed to make Ilinuil flinch. Erestor did not so much as blink, his grey eyes staring dead at Gaelemir. His lack of reaction enraged the warrior, but he did not strike him.

“Leave this place. Now,” said Erestor. “Get your gear, get on your horse, and depart.”

Gaelemir tried to stare him down, to make him retreat. But Erestor was unmoving. The large warrior stepped closer. “All I have to do is strike you,” he said softly.

Erestor held his ground. “All I have to do is scream.”

In the distance, Ecthelion laughed, a distinctive, rusty sound. Glorfindel laughed as well, then cried; “To the Queen!” Sensing the tension, Estorel began whining nervously. For a long, very tense moment, Gaelemir and Erestor stared at each other, unmoving.

“Leave,” said Erestor.

“I will get you for this, you Noldorian bitch,” said Gaelemir. “Mark my words.”

“I mark them, and mark this. You are a fraud, Gaelemir, an imposter. Your fame comes from insinuating your way into the presence of true greats. I have no fame, but I am loved. If you truly wish to threaten me, and spend your remaining meager days hunted by the likes of Glorfindel of Gondolin, Ecthelion, Elrond Herald of Gil-galad, and King Elessar of Gondor, then please, by all means, hurt me.”

“How do you know I will not kill you?”

“Because even you have your limits, Gaelemir, though they may be few.”

Estorel was not used to tension; his parents had few disagreements, and when they did have matters to work out, they left the baby with Rosie and went for a walk. But watching his Sia face off with a very large Elf, who had already raised a hand towards him, was very upsetting. His whining took on an odd, worried pitch. Erestor’s focus was rapidly becoming divided between Gaelemir and his son.

Estorel chose that moment to display his breeding. With aim unusual in an Elfling so small, he managed to hit Gaelemir in the head with Squeaky, the soft, blue rubber pony bouncing off of his skull with a brief ‘squeak’ noise. Slowly Gaelemir turned to look at the vengeful infant.

Erestor had been quite right when he said even Gaelemir had his limits. There was nothing on Arda that could convince him to raise voice or hand to an Elfling, or the child of any race. But Erestor was in no mind to take chances with his baby.

The blow took Gaelemir completely by surprise, and the next thing he knew he was on his back, and some hellishly snarling demon had his throat in his mouth. He felt the flesh rip, his own hot blood running down his skin. He tried to get a hold of the black hair, but Erestor turned and snapped, teeth cutting deep into meat and bone. Then he had Gaelemir’s throat in his teeth again, and he chewed, aiming for the jugular.

Lindir arrived at that moment. He stood in shock, staring at the bloody, writhing combatants, Gaelemir screaming. At a loss as to what to do, Lindir darted into the room, grabbed up Estorel and fled the cottage.

“Help!” he yelled. “Master Erestor is killing the nasty Elf!”

Feronil, who frequently went by that nickname, glanced up in surprise. Several others looked in his direction, but were puzzled as he did not seem to be in any immediate danger.

“Oh good,” said Feronil, “someone else has been awarded that title.”

“Not for long, I am sure,” said Legolas, pulling his knife. He ran towards the cottage, followed by Gimli.

Glorfindel may have been blind, but he had a very good idea of where home was. He rose up quickly from his chair and ran towards the cottage, followed by Ecthelion and Ithilian.

The five managed to reach the cottage at the same time, and were horrified at the sheer quantity of blood. It was sprayed across walls, floors, and furnishings in a ghastly explosion, and in the center of the room were Gaelemir and Erestor, tearing each other to bits. Glorfindel immediately dove into the fray, despite Ecthelion’s attempt to stop him, and got his hand around a bloody throat.

“Release me, you has-been!” yelled Gaelemir.

Glorfindel would have punched him square in the face, but he didn’t get the chance. Erestor came over him like a wolf and sank his teeth into Gaelemir’s face. Ecthelion grabbed Fin and pulled him out of the battle before he was injured. Legolas grabbed Gaelemir, and Gimli went for Erestor, who promptly bit his nose and then elbowed him in the gut. Free once more, Erestor went for Gaelemir again. This time however, Fin caught him. Screaming oaths that would have made an Orc blush, he was dragged out of the cottage by his husband.

“Darling by all the Valar hold sacred what is wrong with you?”

“The bastard threatened me! Threatened my CHILD! I swear I’ll kill him, I will! I’ll chew his testicles off from inside his squirming guts! Fin let go I’ll MURDER the son of a Nazgûl’s turd!”

Glorfindel held him tightly, waiting for Erestor’s wrath to subside. Ecthelion came to them and pulled Erestor’s hair back from his face, looking for the source of the blood all over him.

“Where are you injured?” he asked.

“I am not injured!”

Gimli sat on the ground, a perfect imprint of Erestor’s teeth cut into his nose. He held a cloth over it. “I dare say the blood is not his.”

“No,” said Legolas. “It is coming from Gaelemir.”

Gaelemir said nothing. Injured and humiliated and outraged, he went to his tent, threw his few things into a pack, got on his horse, and left Imladris.

***---***

Faramir cleaned the deer, slowly and carefully, his mind on what had just happened with Lindir.

The young Elf was beautiful, there was no denying that. But as Faramir examined his own feelings, he found they were all of a parental nature. Lindir was tall and beautiful, and the body was definitely that of an adult. But as Faramir thought of him, there were certain images he could not get past. He kept seeing the large, innocent eyes, the long slim arms holding close a toy goose, with whom he still regularly conversed.

The truth of the matter was that Lindir, no matter what he looked like, was a child.

Faramir finished cleaning the deer, then took it down and carried it to the encampment. He left it in the kitchen tent, then went to clean himself up. He needed to speak to Lord Elrond.

The sun was setting as he crossed the encampment to Elrond’s tent. The Elf-Lord was relaxing outside his pavilion, sipping wine and reading. Nearby, as always, was Rúmil. Faramir halted a respectful distance away, and said; “Lord Elrond, may I speak with you?”

Elrond looked up at Faramir, noting he was dressed in his formal garb. He had a suspicion that the mortal was scared of him, a thought which both puzzled and amused him.

“Of course, Faramir, have a seat.”

Faramir sat, casting a glance at Rúmil, who rose from his seat to go stand behind his Lord.

“What do you wish to discuss?” asked Elrond.

“I think… I should leave Imladris.”

Elrond sat back in surprise. “Leave? Is something the matter?”

“Not… exactly. It’s about Lindir. He has become… very attached to me.”

“As in…?”

“He kissed me. And I think it would be best if I departed, before something frightful happens. He is too young. I do not trust his judgment in this matter. I am not a good choice for his first romance, and I do not trust him to not do something foolish. I could not bear it if he bound himself to me. And my feelings towards him are fatherly at best.”

Elrond smiled. “I can see how it would be hard to have Miss Goose watching over your lovemaking.”

“Aye, she is a formidable guardian against such thoughts.”

“Faramir, I do not think you should go. I do not think it would serve anyone to have you leave.”

“But Lindir…”

“Lindir is most vehement in his beliefs. If he feels that he loves you, then he will not accept your departure. Indeed if I know anything of him, he and Miss Goose will put on their ranger garb and head after you. And to have Lindir alone in the Wild would indeed be a tragedy.”

Faramir nodded. “I had not thought of that. But I think you are right. What should I do then?”

“You have shown, I think, much wisdom in this matter, and a great love for our nine hundred and forty-three year old child. And Lindir himself is not without wit, indeed he is quite intelligent. I think you should speak with him. And, if he does try to bind with you, then I will intercede. We will not let Lindir’s first love be his last.”

Faramir breathed a sigh of relief. “I thank you, Lord Elrond. I will speak with him.” He glanced at the Elf-Lord, and smiled slightly. “I have to ask, did you ever have a similar problem?”

“I did once have a little mortal girl who was quite smitten with me. Celebrian thought it… cute. She was seldom any assistance when I was being embarrassed.”

Faramir smiled. “I confess I once told a visiting twelve year old girl where my brother was practicing his swordplay. She followed him all over Gondor, it drove him crazy.”

“Whatever became of her?”

He grinned. “She killed a Nazgûl using a move he taught her.” He rose to his feet, and bowed. “Good evening, Lord Elrond.” Then he departed.

***---***

“Gimli, stop squirming.”

“It’s going to scar, isn’t it?”

“Even if it does, you will still be the most handsome Dwarf ever.”

“It’s not my beauty I’m worried about. It’s having to tell folk that I was bit by an Elf.”

Legolas laughed. “Tell them it was an Orc, then.” He finished putting the salve on the bite, then set the pot aside. He looked at the Dwarf with affection in his blue eyes, trying very hard not to smile at the image of his companion and lover sitting there with pinkish goo all over his nose.

“I look like a bloody fool, don’t I?”

Legolas tried to say ‘no’, but the word would not come. Instead he began to giggle. Gimli rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”

Legolas snuggled against him, kissing his cheek. “You could never look like a fool to me.”

Gimli put his arms around the Elf. Legolas glanced up, then began giggling helplessly. The Dwarf sighed.

“Wonderful.”

“Oh Gimli you’re beautiful. Really.”

“No, you are beautiful. I am a Dwarf with a pink nose.”

“A beautiful Dwarf. And I love you.”

Gimli smiled, then kissed his brow. “And I love you.” He stroked his hand over his side, amazed as always at how light and slender the Elf was. He hugged him against his chest, resting the side of his face against the top of Legolas’ head.

“I love you too.”

From across the loft, Glóin sat up and, grumbling, began dressing. Once he finished, he stomped over to the hatch, pulling it open.

“I’m going to sleep into the Clan tent. The sap in here makes my teeth hurt.” Then he left.

“Goodnight, Da’!” Legolas called after him. The old Dwarf grumbled a response, the grumbling fading in the distance.

“A whole night to ourselves,” said Gimli.

Legolas pressed close, kissing him lightly. “Whatever shall we do?” he asked softly.

“Oh I’m sure we can come up with something.” Gimli drew him close, their lips almost meeting before Legolas began snickering. Gimli grabbed a cloth and wiped the pink salve off of his nose. “Better?”

“Much.” Then Legolas began howling with laughter.

“Oh what now?!”

“Your nose is all swollen.”

He tipped the Elf over into the hay and lay over top of him. “I got something else that’s swollen too.”

“Oh you are such a romantic.”

“I will be as soon as I can get you to stop giggling at my nose.” He sat up and unhooked a silk scarf from its place on the wall, then lay back down over the Elf. He gently tied it over the blue eyes. “Better?”

“You’re so clever.”

Gimli kissed him, then looked admiringly at the beautiful being beneath him. “I’m not sure about clever, but I’m certainly lucky.”

***---***

The daylight was fading into a beautiful purple-shaded twilight, as Haldir walked into the cave where he lived. The fire was blazing, and the little cave was filled with Elves. He stopped, surprised, as he saw his friends Saelwen and Minuial, as well as their son Meril, and a little girl he had not seen before. There also were Frost and Elrohir, as well as Bramble. Rabbit, not surprisingly, was not to be seen.

“Ada!” yelled Bramble. “Happy birthday, Ada!”

He picked her up. “Birthday? Is that what all this fuss is about?”

“Of course,” said Saelwen. “Do you think we would sit in a cave for just any Elf?” He rose and walked over to his friend to embrace him. “Haldir, I have missed you.”

Meril began making loud smooching noises. “Meril,” said Saelwen tiredly.

“What? Nana told me you two used to be sweet on each other.”

“Meril that was five hundred years before I met your mother, and another two hundred years before you were born.”

Meril made more smooching noises. Saelwen sighed heavily, then turned his head to gently kiss Haldir’s lips.

“YUCK!”

“And if you do not behave I shall do it again.”

“No you won’t,” said Minuial.

“Really, if it will aid with the child’s discipline, I don’t mind,” said Haldir.

Minuial raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I’m sure you don’t.”

Saelwen gave Haldir another quick kiss, then went to sit beside his wife. Haldir sat down, and Bramble climbed into his lap. “I got you a present, Ada!”

“A present? For me?”

She nodded. “Sia has it. I’ll get it.”

“And where is your Sia?”

There was a stirring at the back of the cave, and Haldir looked up, his eyes growing large as he saw Rabbit, wearing the black robes he had worn the night he gave Thranduil a piece of his mind. The tall Elf stepped quietly into the sitting area of their unconventional home, yellow-green eyes luminous in the candle light. His heavy black hair shone with fragrant oils, and was tied back into a long ponytail that spilled down his back, the clip studded with the same black gems as his garb. He was absolutely regal.

“I was combing my hair,” said Rabbit dryly. “Since I never do, it was surprisingly difficult to sort out the mats.”

Haldir just stared, amazed that this stunning dark prince was his lover. He tried to say something, but nothing came to mind. Bramble was equally impressed.

“You look very nice, Sia,” she said simply, awe in her quiet voice.

“Yes,” said Frost. “Very nice.”

Rabbit walked over to Haldir, bending down to kiss him. “Do you approve?”

Haldir cleared his throat, and finally managed to say, “Yes.”

Rabbit sat beside him, and kissed him again. Then he passed something to Bramble, who proudly held it out to her father. Haldir reached out, and gently took the tiny fox. It was no longer shivering and afraid, and the little eyes were bright and curious. The tiny shoulder had been carefully stitched by Elladan, as was evident by the gay pink thread. A green ribbon was around its neck, and as Haldir held the little beast, it began to gnaw on his hand. He smiled.

“Isa,” he said. “You finally came back from the Halls of Mandos for me.”

***---***

The small party went well into the night. Meril and his sister, Sidhwen, slept in Bramble’s bed, and Bramble climbed into her parents’ bed. Elrohir, Haldir, Saelwen and Minuial talked and laughed, while Isa slept in a basket on the table. Rabbit sat on a small couch near the back of the room, watching the party. Beside him was Frost, his head on his Sia’s shoulder.

The two Plains-Elves spoke softly, in their own tongue as they sat. Rabbit played gently with his elder child’s hair, both watching their lovers. Frost smiled as Haldir tried to teach Elrohir to play Tablero.

“Are you happy with your little wise one?” asked Rabbit.

“Yes. He makes me smile. There is a green light about him, growth and healing are in his spirit. I think he would make a good Shaman.”

“The clan could use an apprentice Shaman. And I like Elrohir.”

“As do I. But he is determined to find the reason I have had no children.”

“Is that against your wishes?”

“No. I am simply weary of the subject.”

Rabbit smiled slightly, without humour. “It is hard to lose children.” He kissed Frost’s brow, then nipped him.

“Sia do not nip, I am not an Elfling.”

“You are my child, you shall always be an Elfling.” He nipped Frost again, then smoothed his white hair back. “Frost, there is a question I have been dreading asking, one which I must.”

Frost nodded. “Yes Sia, I suspect there are many questions to which you desire answers.”

“The night your siblings died. I… do not know why. But I wish to know what happened. I thought I saw you torn apart. Plainly I was mistaken.”

“I was badly injured. Aie came to my defense, and he was… overcome. Spirit Hound tried to save him, but he was killed outright by another. Sunhawk was caught trying to flee. It all happened so very fast. I managed to escape. I wanted to come looking for you, but the blood… I was afraid.”

Rabbit put his arms around him, holding him tightly. “I have you now. We shall never part again.”

Frost huddled against his mother, a brief, sad smile crossing his face. When he spoke again there was an odd quality to it. “Spirit follows you yet, Sia. I see him when I enter the Green Realm, and speak to the spirits who dwell there.”

“And Sunhawk?”

“He still runs wild with the faerie folk amongst the golden trees of Lothlórien. He is content there. But Spirit wishes to return to you now that he has found you.”

Rabbit raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I shall give him a vessel at the earliest opportunity, then.”

The candles on the table flickered, though there was no breeze. The Wood-Elves paused, noticing this. Rabbit suddenly felt something very close to him, an invisible presence touching him. He briefly smelled something familiar, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He looked at Frost.

“He is here.”

“I told you. He has been following you.”

“I am not fertile for at least another nine years.”

“You could go bite Minuial,” Frost suggested teasingly.

Rabbit smiled. “I am not certain she would permit me to bite her. And I am fairly certain her husband would object.”

“I’ll bite her then.”

“You will not! Despite popular opinion, we are neither Orcs nor werewolves, nor are we animals. We are Elves. As much as it grieves me, I shall simply have to wait until I become fertile.”

Elrohir had been examining Saelwen’s large and distinctive fighting knife, when the blade seemed to fly of its own volition out of his hand. It was obvious to all at the table that he had not thrown it, yet the blade flipped out of his hand and landed, point down. It nicked the side of Minuial’s hand, and the Elven woman cried out in pain and surprise.

“My lady I am most sorry!” said Elrohir. “I have no idea how that happened!”

“It attacked me!” she said with heated indignity.

“It did not attack you my love, it is a knife. It is not alive.” Saelwen fumbled for something to wrap his wife’s hand, while Minuial held her dripping injury over a cup to keep the blood from spilling all over the table.

“It attacked me!” she reiterated, angry.

“It did,” said Haldir, who had witnessed the blade’s strange flight.

Elrohir tore off a length of the light undergarment beneath his robe, and used it to bind Minuial’s hand. “Come, let us get you to the healing tent, I shall tend to this.”

“I will return soon,” said Haldir to Rabbit, and departed with his friends.

Rabbit and Frost watched the four Wood-Elves depart, then looked at each other. “It seems Spirit is not content to wait,” said Frost.

“So it would seem. But drinking blood is so distasteful.”

“Mix it with wine.”

“Oh, jolly, drunk and in heat, there’s a refined combination.”

Rabbit rose and crossed the room to the table. He took the glass with Minuial’s blood and set it aside, then cleaned the few droplets of blood off the table. Finally he poured mead into the glass, stirring it with a silver spoon to mix the two together. He sniffed it.

“I wonder how long it will take to effect me?”

Frost shrugged. “It depends on the Elf.”

Rabbit sniffed the mead again. The blood was well hidden by the honey wine. He glanced up as he heard Erestor call his name.

“Rabbit? Are you home?”

Rabbit sipped the mead. The taste of blood was there, but it was doubtful anyone other than a Plains Elf would have detected it. “Yes, Erestor, I am here.” He took a swallow, then another, draining half the glass.

Erestor entered the cave. “Rabbit have you seen Lindir? It is getting late and I cannot find him anywhere.”

Frost stood, and bowed respectfully to the advisor. “Master Erestor, Lindir is in the garden.”

Erestor tossed his head back in relief. “Ai! By the Valar I was worried sick! Just once I wish I could have a day when nothing ridiculous happens. Do you mind?” Erestor took the glass of mead from Rabbit’s hand and tossed back the contents.

Both Rabbit and Frost gasped audibly. Erestor swallowed the sweet wine, then paused, noticing the expression on both their faces.

“What?” he asked.

Rabbit just stared, eyes large. Frost grinned placatingly, looking like a fox meeting a hound outside the henhouse with an egg in its mouth.

“Ah, nothing. Nothing at all. Have a lovely evening,”

Erestor looked at the glass. “What did I just drink?”

Rabbit and Frost looked at each other, then at Erestor. “It was a fertility potion,” said Frost.

The glass slid from Erestor’s hand, just as the colour drained from his face. “A what?”

“A fertility potion. I suggest if you do not wish to conceive again so soon after Estorel’s birth that you lock yourself in a room and give someone else the key.”

“Brilliant. That’s just bloody brilliant! Excuse me, I have to go beat my head against a tree.”

“Good eve, Master Erestor,” said Frost.

“A right wonderful evening indeed, I am sure. Ai! I have a headache.”

Rabbit and Frost looked at each other, then, as Erestor’s grumbles faded into the night, they both began howling with laughter.

“Should we tell him what was in it?” asked Rabbit.

Frost shook his head. “No, I don’t think he needs to know that.”

***---***

Gaelemir did not stop riding until his horse was staggering with exhaustion. Still feeling humiliated and angry, he dismounted and tended to the unhappy animal, then set up camp. Finally seated by a small fire, the Elf, hungry and still enraged, sat and went through his bag for anything to eat. He found a half a piece of stale lembas, and he munched on it as he stared into the flames, blood still on his face and throat. Erestor had done what Rabbit had threatened to do; he had made Gaelemir as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside.

Gaelemir touched the rents in his face, feeling the deep cuts. Who would have guessed there was enough of the blood of the Plains Elves in Erestor to have him behave in such a manner?

He had no mirror, but he did not need one. He was disfigured, and he knew it. Gaelemir felt his rage grow, felt a black hate envelope him. He had lost everything, all that he held dear. Perhaps it was time to seek vengeance, time to renounce his Elven blood and ride back to Imladris on the wings of death. Seek the Buyer and make an alliance with him, doom them all to darkness and horror. Become the next Melkor, and fill all who knew his name with dread.

Gaelemir drew his dagger. Holding it in his right hand, he gathered his long, thick hair in his left, and slashed it off, tossing the three-foot-long tress aside, where it lay in the star light, shimmering softly. Next he took the dagger and crudely hacked off the points of his ears, tossing them into the fire. As the flesh sizzled, he took soot from the fire and smeared it into his injuries, ensuring that they would forever mark him with their grotesqueness. Finally he stood, and opened his mouth to renounce his birthright and kin, and let darkness take him.

But the words would not come.

Slowly, the wrath seeped out of him, and he was overwhelmed with grief. It was not Erestor’s fault he had lost Ilinuil, no more than it was Fin’s fault he had lost Ecthelion. Nor was Erestor to blame for the marks on his face. He had been protecting his child, nothing more. Gaelemir would not harm a child, but how could Erestor know that, after all he had done? No, in his place, Gaelemir would have done the same. He sighed heavily, then sank to the earth.

“I, Gaelemir of Gondolin, am a moron. A fool who has condemned himself to a life of utter loneliness.”

“They will forgive you.”

The voice was soft, and warm, and utterly beautiful. Gaelemir looked up, and felt his jaw drop at the sight of the unearthly beauty of the Elf who now stepped before him. He walked in a silver light, his long gold hair braided in a manner that Gaelemir could not interpret. He had no idea who this beauty was, but Gaelemir knew he was a friend.

“Why should they?” asked Gaelemir, but there was no bitterness in his voice. “I’ve been a complete fool, and a most unpleasant one as well.”

The beautiful Elf sat down to look at him. “Perhaps I should have made myself more clear. They will not forgive the one who left, but they will forgive you.”

Gaelemir nodded. “It has been a long time since I was myself. What has happened to me?”

“Greed. Envy. Insecurity. You tried so hard to be what you were not, you failed to see what you were.”

“I’m a fool.”

“Perhaps.” The Elf laughed, and Gaelemir grinned at him.

“Who are you?” he asked. “You’re…. so beautiful. Your light is so bright, I can hardly see you.”

“A friend. An old friend. Concern yourself not with me, Gaelemir. Sleep now. It is a long ride back to Imladris.”

Gaelemir nodded, suddenly very tired. He lay down, and fell into an exhausted sleep. He did not move again until morning.

***---***

Faramir found Lindir sitting alone in the garden, and he walked over to him, nervous at the prospect of possibly hurting the young Elf’s feelings He sat beside him, and felt even more worried as Lindir looked at him with those innocent blue eyes and gave him a huge welcoming smile.

“Hello Lindir.”

“Hello Faramir.”

The Man smiled, noticing Miss Goose was wearing her evening bonnet. “Lindir I have to have a talk with you, about something important.”

“All right.”

Faramir stared at those bright eyes, and sighed. This was not going to be easy. “Lindir, you know I love you….”

Lindir’s eyes became large. “Really?”

“Yes, of course I do. Now...”

“You love me!”

Faramir sensed this was rapidly getting out of hand. “Lindir! Please listen!”

“You love me!”

“Yes. But, we have a slight problem.”

“A problem?”

“Yes. Lindir, I am very, very fond of you, I really am. You are sweet, and funny, and very pretty. But you are too young.”

Lindir blinked. “Young?” he whispered.

“Yes, Lindir.”

Lindir looked down at Miss Goose, his expression one of confusion and hurt. “But I’m not, I’m…” He paused, hurt, but knowing in his heart that Faramir was right. He felt his eyes grow hot, and he wiped away a tear.

“Oh, Lindir,” Faramir said softly. He put his arms around him and gently pulled the Elf against his chest, suddenly noticing Lindir was taller than he was. “Lindir don’t cry.”

Lindir cried quietly. Faramir held him tightly, and stroked the ash blond hair. “Lindir, we will always be friends. I’m never going to stop being fond of you.”

The Elf raised head. The large wet blue eyes that looked back at Faramir nearly broke his heart. “But I don’t want to be too young.”

Faramir smiled. “I know, penneth, but you are. It’s not fair, but that’s how things are sometimes.”

Lindir nodded, his hair clinging to his wet face. “But you’ll always be my friend?”

“Yes Lindir, for always and always.” He pushed the Elf’s hair back from his face.

“And you will still teach Miss Goose and I how to be rangers, and shoot a bow?”

“Yes, if you like.”

Lindir looked up, and his eyes glinted as a slight smile crossed his face. “And when I finally grow up, will you still like me?”

“Lindir when you finally grow up I will be happy to hug and kiss you as much as you like.”

The Elf put his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Really?”

“Yes really.” Faramir didn’t bother mentioning that by the time Lindir grew up, he would likely have been dead a few years. There was no need to cause new problems. “Now it’s getting late, let me take you home.”

“Right now? Can’t we just… sit together a little while?”

“All right, Lindir. We’ll sit here for a while.”

Together the two sat, smelling the warm scent of the blooming roses, and watching the moon rise over the garden.

***---***

Erestor had intended to go to the garden, get Lindir, then go home and lock himself into his study. However, he had not quite reached the garden when it suddenly occurred to him that he did not want to lock himself into his study, nor was he as concerned with getting Lindir home. Suddenly all his thoughts were focused on one thing; Fin.

Erestor had the body of a Plains-Elf, but he had never before experienced a fertility cycle in all its intensity. With perfect focus, he walked into the cottage, straight up to Fin, and hauled him out of the chair by his tunic, completely failing to even notice Ecthelion and Ithilian.

“You. Me. Bedchamber. Now.”

“What did I do this time?” howled Fin.

“Must have been bad Fin,” chided Ecthelion.

Glorfindel didn’t get a chance to answer. Suddenly he was in the bedchamber. With a power Fin would have never thought his husband possessed, Erestor tossed him onto the bed, then locked the door.

“Darling if it’s about that goat in the bathtub…”

Erestor tore off his robes and leapt onto the bed. He used a fighting knife to shred Fin’s clothing, then, tossing blade and clothing aside, straddled him.

“Erestor I don’t know what has gotten into you but I think I like it.”

Erestor kissed him hard, easing himself down onto Fin’s hard penis. He kissed him again. “You’ve gotten into me.”

Fin tasted mead on Erestor’s lips. He put his hands into the heavy, silky black hair, making a mental note to have plenty of the stuff on hand in the future.

Across the encampment, in a cave behind a waterfall, Frost stayed with the Elflings while Rabbit waited for Haldir to return.

***---***

Lindir raised his head from Faramir’s shoulder, and blinked at the sky. “The sun is rising,” he said softly.

Faramir stirred, then opened his eyes. “Hmm?”

“I said the sun is rising.”

Faramir sat up and looked around blearily. “I fell asleep.”

Lindir had spent the night beside him, watching the Man sleep. “I know, I stayed with you.”

Faramir tried to make both eyes open. “Fin is going to kill me.”

“Why?” asked Lindir, all blue eyes and innocence.

Faramir looked at the Elf, and smiled. No, it would never occur to Lindir that his foster-father might be at home, foaming at the mouth and thinking the evil Man was doing something improper to his adopted child. He touched his face. “Let’s get you home.”

Lindir stood up, and waited for Faramir to get to his feet. He laughed. “Mortals are always so funny first thing in the morning.”

“Oh so glad to amuse you.”

The Elf smiled at him, eyes bright, Miss Goose held tightly in his arms. Faramir put an arm around him, and walked the tall Elf home.

***---***

Gaelemir sat up, the warmth of the sun full on his face. At first he could not remember where he was, then he recalled the whole wretched day, ending with mutilating himself and nearly committing his fea to evil.

“Fool of an Elf. Twit. Elves are supposed to be wise and beautiful. Well I’m neither now. Perhaps I can pass myself off as a mortal. Perhaps I can glue hair to my feet and pass myself off as a very tall hobbit. Ai, at least I did not give myself over to evil. That is something.”

He spied his hair lying on the ground. It had been braided, and bound with a grey ribbon. He picked it up, then glanced about for the beautiful Elf he had seen the night before, but he was not to be found. He looked at the hair, and sighed. “Fool,” he muttered. “Fool! What did you think you were doing? You have none to blame but yourself.”

He dropped the braid, then went to a nearby pond to wash and check the condition of his bite marks. He paused and groaned aloud as he recalled smearing soot into the injuries. “I’M A MORON!” he yelled to the sky. Then he continued to the pond. He knelt beside it, and looked.

The marks were gone.

Gaelemir touched his face, not believing what he saw. But it was true, the deep bites were gone. He reached up to touch his ears, and felt the high points. Then, as he stared into the water, his hair slid down, long and gold and heavy, as it had always been.

“So I’m still an Elf,” he said softly.

The beautiful Elf was there suddenly, smiling at their reflections. “I love water.”

Gaelemir sat back and looked at him. “There you are. I thought you’d left me.”

“No, not yet.” The Elf trailed his hand through the water.

Gaelemir held out his newly-grown hair. “Did you do this?”

“I thought it best if you did not look as though you had recently escaped Mordor. Slicing your ears off, Gaelemir, really.” The Elf shuddered. He lay down on his stomach, trailing one hand through the water. He tipped his head, his hair falling over his shoulders.

“Gaelemir, you joined Ilinuil and his brother, because, more than anything, you desired to be a warrior, like the heroes of old. I do not deny that, at the time, Ilinuil’s beauty may have had something to do with your decision…”

Gaelemir shook his head and put his hand over his face, his shoulders shaking as he broke down crying. The emotion overwhelmed him so hard and fast it was almost painful. “I loved him! I loved him so much! How could I have been so cruel to him for so long? That… beautiful dear Elf loved me, and I broke his heart every chance I got, even delighted in it.”

The Elf put a hand on his shoulder. “Gaelemir, you have much to make up for. But Ilinuil I fear, will never again be yours.”

Gaelemir lowered his hand. “Who are you? Tell me please. Who are you?”

The shining Elf smiled at him, rolling onto his back to look up at him. “Gaelemir, go back to Imladris. Your life is there now.”

Gaelemir nodded. “Yes.” He looked at the beautiful Elf, his eyes wet with tears. “Do I have to go back today? I… I have a lot to think about.”

The shining beautiful creature smiled, his eyes warm and soft and forgiving. “No,” he said softly. “Not today.”

“Are you going to tell me who you are?”

A glint of mischief shone in the crystalline eyes, and his smile widened. “No. Not today.”