THE KNAVE
Overall rating: yellow/orange
Category: slash (two male Elves in love), romance, drama, ANGST, h/c, humour.
Pairings: Orophin/Elladan, Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit - and some surprises
Warnings: mpreg, ANGST
Beta: Miss Eveiya
Summary: this is the story of Orophin and Elladan, and how they finally found happiness. Some ties not even death can cut - and life is a never ending gamble. It is also the story of Erestor and Glorfindel, and how they cope with their little Elfling, Estorel.
Author's notes: special warning for this chapter, dear reader - there is some het (the audience goes "ewwww!"). My apologies. It couldn't be helped. It's vitally important for the story, so please don't skip the part.
CHAPTER 4
"Get the feeling, head is reeling
You think you're in control but you don't know me babe
I can move you, I can soothe you
I can take you places in a different way
And I don't think you understand
What I'm trying to say
I'll be your operator baby
I'm in control"
'Puppets' – Depeche Mode
~°~
Under normal circumstances, the Lord of the Golden Wood would have realized that he was watched, and would have called the intruder upon it.
Alas, the stars shining from above this night saw Celeborn half sitting, half laying on his horse, for Miruvor had fogged his mind and senses. If his trusted steed hadn't been such a faithful companion and found her way home without guidance by her master, one would have had to fear for Celeborn ending up in a ditch by the street.
But Bain was used to carrying her master home safely – it wasn't the first time. The more Galadriel had become the Lady of the Wood, the less Celeborn had wanted to be the Lord to go with that arrangement. Where once had been a deep-rooted love and mutual respect, there were now arguments, bitterness and anger.
Whenever his duties allowed it, Celeborn would clad himself in a worn-out uniform of the Galadhrim, saddle his horse, and then he was out in some tavern, drinking and feasting with his men. They, of course, knew it was their lord getting drunk in their middle, but respected his wish to be one of them for the night. Once in a while, Celeborn tasted the sweet fruit of extra-matrimonial bliss, feeling guilty afterwards, but only until the moment Galadriel made another comment about "behaviour unbecoming a lord". So the next night, he was out again, feasting and gambling, while his wife stood bent over her mirror for hours, hoping for a sign, any sign, that her daughter would return to her one day.
Were all marriages like this? Celeborn didn't know, but he remembered well the happier times, how he and Galadriel had laughed and loved; today, there was neither laughter nor love anymore, just a mutual acceptance, and even this started to fade. He had hoped that their shared grief over their only daughter's sad fate would bring them closer together again, and for a short while, it had, only to drift them later further apart than they had ever been.
So this night, Celeborn had been out drinking, and he lost a small fortune at the gambling table as well. The cool night breeze did help a little to sober up him up; not to the point of full awareness, but at least he was now in a state to remember his own name. Which was definitely an improvement, considering the excessive drinking spree he had been on these last two days.
Bain obviously felt her master was in need of some refreshment, so she trotted off the path, down to the river Celebrant, and with a short buck, she threw Celeborn off her back and into the water.
"Ouuuwww, you rotten beast!" Celeborn howled, the ice-cold water chasing away most of the alcohol-induced cobwebs in his head. He crawled out of the water, back to the bank, where he divested himself of his sodden tunic and cloak, wrung out his hair and flopped in the grass, deciding he needed a little nap.
Nearby, Firinwë had been collecting some herbs, and she was more than just a little surprised when she ran into His Sleeping Lordship.
Her cunning little plan of wrapping Elrond around her finger hadn't worked out – it looked like Gil-galad's spirit was haunting her even from the Halls of Mandos, damn be he, unkempt peasant that he was. But then again, maybe her failure had been a success. Coming to think about it, Firinwë mused, Lothlórien was a much more desirable place than his pathetic excuse of a realm called "Rivendell", not to talk about the half-crazy Elves who lived there. And the Orc! She shuddered thinking of Mauburz. Hundreds of showers later she still thought she could smell "Eau de Mordor" on her skin. And this half-wild Rabbit… no, the only prize who had been worth playing for was Glorfindel, but unfortunately, he had decided to throw himself away to this boring mouse of an advisor – ah well, their loss, Firinwë found the Lórien-Elves with their shiny, silver blond hair to be much more appealing, anyway.
Especially Celeborn, who, she had to admit, was really mild on the eyes, and, judging from the rumours circulating, it shouldn't be too difficult to catch his attention. Galadriel, obviously, had lost touch with her people quite a while ago, and was not able to make any decisions without consulting her birdbath first, and consequently lost her husband. Celeborn, it was clear to see, was out for fun, and this she could provide, by Elbereth!
So the drunken Elf Lord lying in the grass before her was a gift sent by the Valar. She crouched down beside him, careful as not to get any grass stains on her robe, and lightly ran the tips of her fingers over his chest.
Nice. Very nice.
"My lord, you shouldn't sleep here when a comfortable bed is waiting for you," she purred, shaking him slightly. Celeborn blinked, and tried to focus, but his eyes refused service for now, so he closed them quickly again.
"Got no bed," he slurred.
"But certainly you have, my lord - and a beautiful wife to warm it for you," the wicked Elf lady added, resuming her caresses.
Celeborn snorted.
"Yes sure. She is about as eager to warm my bed as I am to kiss a dwarf. Pray tell - what are you doing?" he asked, and tried to prop up on his elbows, but failed and fell back onto the grass again.
She laughed, a silvery sound like little bells ringing, and ran her finger from his throat to the hem of his breeches.
"Why, my lord - do you like what I do?"
"Mmmmm ..." Celeborn purred, "... 't is nice ..."
By the Valar, this was even easier than she had thought - like stealing candy from an Elfling!
"Nice it is, aha. Well, my lord, why not let me help you to find you a comfortable place to stay and I shall see what I can do for you?"
The state Celeborn was in, he would have agreed to marry a dwarf at this moment, so he didn't object when Firinwë helped him up and on his horse, leading the steed to her talan close by. It was quite a bit of hard work to get the plastered Elven lord up the stairs, but he had millennia of experience, and he probably would not have fallen off the stairs even if he had been drunk and blindfolded.
Finally, Firinwë had him where she wanted him - in her bedroom. He flopped down on her large bed and was asleep immediately. 'Well', she thought, 'this had to be expected'. Carefully, not to awake him, she stripped him of his boots and remaining clothes, and looking down at the naked Elf, she seriously regretted he was not up to any extra-matrimonial activities in this state. But, another night, another chance. For now, he was with her, and in the morrow, he wouldn't be able to remember anything, anyway, and would willingly believe any tale she told him. And by the Valar, she intended to tell him quite some tale!
Firinwë took off her clothes, and slipped under the sheets beside Celeborn. How nice - how very nice. This she could get used to. She had always had a weak spot for warriors, and Celeborn hid a warrior's body under his silken robes, a body she ran her hands possessively over now. 'Mine - all mine, my lord,' she thought, and considered her strategy. Finally, a sly smile hushed over her face. She pressed her lips to his throat, and started to suck, leaving a love bit of impressing size. 'Looks good - ai, 't is wonderful work, and if this won't drive dear old Galadriel out of her nightshirt, nothing will.' And once Galadriel was gone, she would be here to soothe the poor, abandoned husband.
Indeed - she was indebted to Lord Elrond. Why rule Imladris if she could rule Lothlórien?
* * *
While Celeborn slept into the next morning and the hangover from Mordor, Erestor sat in a chair by the window and stared out on the empty courtyard of Rivendell. Heavy rain was falling, thick grey clouds covered the sky. Estorel was in his cradle, dozing, and after playing with him for two hours, Erestor was exhausted.
Having a child was so much more demanding than he had ever thought. There was not a second his mind was not worrying, and he anxiously checked on the baby every time even the slightest sound came from the cradle.
Glorfunkle sat on his usual place at the head of the cradle. In the beginning, Erestor and Fin had tried to keep the crow out of the nursery, but then Erestor had realized that Glorfunkle was holding watch - no spider, fly or other insect made it even halfway to the cradle with the sleeping Elfling, this the crow made sure of it. Erestor was touched by the animal's loyalty, and so he allowed him to stay.
"Just you wait - his first word will not be 'ada' but 'kra-kra'!" Fin had joked, and Erestor had smiled, too, though he didn't feel amused at all.
Indeed - Erestor felt melancholic, depressed even. He should call himself the luckiest Elf on Arda - he held a much-respected position at the court of Rivendell, he had a lovely, lovely child and a devoted - Elf.
And that was the problem - Glorfindel. As much as Erestor loved him, and though he knew Fin loved him in return, there was this ever-present fear of losing the warrior. Not to battle, not to war - but to somebody else. Fin had been married five times, but never bonded with anybody, had always shied back from this last, permanent step, so who could tell if he would not one day decide to leave Erestor and find somebody new? Erestor certainly didn't consider himself a first choice for an Elven lord - he came from a simple family, his father had been a carpenter. Glorfindel's House of the Golden Flower had been something he admired from afar when he was a wee Elfling, but would never have considered belonging to.
Erestor was not blind - half the population of Rivendell would probably sacrifice a limb for Glorfindel's favour. Maybe he was expecting too much. Maybe he should just be happy with what he had, and as long as it lasted, and not pine for something he could never have. But Erestor had bonded his heart and soul to Glorfindel, and as he thought the depth of his emotions were not returned, there was an emptiness which hurt more with every day that passed. Erestor was sure he would fade if Fin ever left him.
Still the rain fell, and Erestor didn't notice when Glorfindel slipped through the door.
"My love - why do you sit here in the dark, brooding? Is anything amiss?" Fin asked, worried. He had well noticed the growing sadness about Erestor, but hadn't felt it advisable to address the issue yet. But now, seeing his lover sitting alone in the darkness, a forlorn expression on his face, he wondered if this had been a mistake.
"'t is nothing, Fin," Erestor said quietly, not turning around. Fin went over to the lean figure clad in black velvet, and gently stroked his cheek.
"There is something, Erestor - for quite a while already."
He knelt down beside Erestor's chair, and took his hand, gently rubbing the knuckles with his thumb.
"What ails you, my love? Share your thoughts - maybe I can help?"
Erestor still didn't look at him, just stared out of the window. Fin pressed a soft kiss on the back of the advisor's hand.
"Is it the baby? Is it too much work? If so, I can do more, if you want. I could ..."
"No," Erestor interrupted him, "it is not the baby."
He finally turned to face Fin, and the warrior was shocked when he saw the sadness and the longing in the dark eyes.
"Fin - would you leave me?"
"Leave you?" Fin stared at his lover, shocked. "Why in the Valar's name should I ever leave you, Erestor?"
His lover shrugged.
"I don't know ... I just fear it. Sometimes ..." he looked out of the window again, "...sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, because I dreamt you had left me, and there was this emptiness - as if half of my soul was missing."
Erestor was now facing the Balrog-slayer, and Glorfindel could see the tears which started to pool in the dark eyes.
"I could not live without you, and this scares me so, Fin. I never had to depend on anybody, I was my own master, and now - now my life and well-being depends on you, and I greatly fear to lose you - and myself."
Fin took Erestor in his arms.
"This is all about the bonding, isn't it?"
The other Elf didn't answer, but Fin knew that he had read him correctly.
"Erestor - we are already bonded. Can't you see? Can't you feel it? Do you need a ceremony for the entire world to know? If you wish so - I shall be happy to oblige. But I have bonded myself to you from the very first moment you accepted me as your mate, and this bond I shall never sever. You fear I own you, but you own me, Erestor, heart and soul, body and mind."
Erestor was crying now, a silent crying, and he buried his face in Fin's neck; the warrior soothingly stroked his back, placing gentle kisses on the dark hair.
"How about this, love: next week we have the name-giving ceremony. So, while Estorel will receive his name from you, how about holding an additional bonding-ceremony at the same time? I spring for the rings if you pay for the wine."
Erestor had to chuckle despite his tears.
"Oh Fin - only you can make such a serious matter sound like a folly!"
Fin kissed him, and grinned.
"But it is folly, my love! And talking about folly, I think you have stared out of the window long enough now."
With that, he picked up the protesting advisor and carried him to their bed, dropped him down rather unceremoniously and began to shed his clothes.
"What are you up to again, Fin?" Erestor asked, and propped up on his elbows, his eyes wandering in admiration over Fin's well-toned body.
"Well - let me see: first I will be up on you. Then I intend you to be up on me. Afterwards, I would be most pleased to be inside you, and then we could try the whole thing again, in reversed order."
He gave Erestor a stern look.
"You got exactly 12 seconds to get out of your robes before I cut you out."
Erestor managed to get out of his clothes in 10 seconds, which was a new record.
* * *
Orophin accompanied Glorfindel to Rivendell's blacksmith. He certainly wasn't enthusiastic about visiting the workshop; even now, millennia later, this brought up some bitter memories, but this was something he would have never told Lord Glorfindel. For the rest of the world, he, Haldir and Rúmil were brothers, sons of Amrun and Mya, and everything else was nobody's business but their own.
A week had passed since his arrival in Rivendell, and Elladan, the common meals aside, had managed to avoid him on every occasion. By now, Orophin wasn't sure anymore what to think of the young Elven lord. For a second, when their eyes had met on the day of his arrival, he had thought that he saw interest in the grey eyes of Lord Elrond's oldest son, but obviously, he had been wrong. He should have been glad about it, for certainly it was not in his place to pursue the young lord, but he couldn't help feeling the great sadness that came with the realization that what he had considered interest had been nothing but a short-lived infatuation of Elladan - a bit like the enthusiastic admiration Rúmil had felt for Lady Galadriel when he had come of age.
Orophin was so wrapped in his musings that he almost ran into Elladan who had just turned around the corner.
"Oh," the young lord said, which was about the most intelligent thing he could come up with. He stared at Orophin, who stared back at him, and damned be it, the embarrassing heat flushed his cheeks again and made his eyes shine, and Elladan blushed like a maiden. Elladan wished he could have said something witty, something clever; Elrohir never was lost for words.
"My lord," Orophin greeted, and bowed formally, while Glorfindel slapped Elladan's shoulder.
"Elladan - I haven't talked to you for quite a while, where do you hide during the day?"
"I ... well I have... I was... actually I did... yes, so that's why." Elladan babbled, his eyes still fixed on Orophin's, like a rabbit stone frozen in front of a snake.
"Aha," Fin chuckled, "that's why. I see."
Maybe Glorfindel was a little slow on the uptake at times when it came to diplomatic missions or understanding the tax system of the Shire, but for romance he had an instinct which beat the one of a hunting falcon. Elladan's flushed face and odd behaviour, and Orophin's sparkling green eyes plus the badly hidden joy on the face of the Galadhrim told him all there was to know. 'By the Valar', he thought, 'Elladan has a better taste than I thought. Galadriel will have a fit - how delightful!'
"Elladan, close your mouth, you look stupid. And Orophin, you don't look much more intelligent, either. I hate to interrupt the mutual mooning here, but we are already late, and we have an appointment which I intent to keep. I bid you a fair day, Elladan, and by the way, you wear two different coloured clasps on your braids."
Both Orophin and Elladan turned brick red, and Elladan cursed his former tutor's bluntness. Elbereth, Glorfindel was, without a doubt, the most tactless Elf in Rivendell, and probably even worse than King Thrandúil, and why oh why didn't he have a look at the mirror before he had left his chamber! Different hair clasps! Orophin must think him an imbecile!
'He wears two different coloured hair clasps', Orophin thought, allowing his face for a second to slip in a doting expression.
'How absolutely adorable.'
* * *
Why Glorfindel had insisted he accompany him to the blacksmith's workshop, he didn't know, but of course Orophin obeyed. The guardian pressed down the handle of the shop's door, and they entered. There was the unique metallic scent common for a forge hanging in the air, various fires were burning, and a chain was dangling from the roof.
Orophin closed his eyes.
Flashback Orophin
"Orophin? Are you awake?"
"No."
She giggled, and though he had tried to sound as grumpy and unwelcoming as possible, he was, of course, delighted she came for a visit.
Lilly climbed up the ladder to the part of her grandfather's workshop where the Elf had his straw mattress. Here he kept his few personal belongings, and once arrived, she dusted off her skirt before she said anything.
"Don't be such a grump, Orophin. I brought you some apples. And that's not all!"
With a triumphant smile, she first took some fresh apples out of the pockets in her skirt, and then followed with a small jar and a spoon.
Orophin's eyes lit up at the prospect of eating fresh fruit, and he grabbed for an apple, not bothering to polish it first, and wolfed it down.
"Mmmm...." he moaned, and closed his eyes.
"Nice, aren't they! I thought you would like them. But wait till you tried this!"
She sat beside Orophin on the mattress, and unscrewed the jar. Orophin sniffed.
"This smells nice, what is it?"
"It's fruit from a far away country - my father brought three jars from the market, and I thought I would share mine with you."
Orophin gave her a warm smile.
"You are as good as gold, Lilly."
She smiled back, not answering, and dipped the spoon in the jar.
"Open your mouth." He obeyed, and she fed him a spoonful of the stewed fruit.
"Oh, that's wonderful! What is it called?"
"They call it 'peach'. Father said the fruit looks like a girl's bottom, but doesn't it taste lovely?"
Orophin only nodded. Usually, he was fed what was at hand; not that they'd let him starve, but it was certainly not the same the family got served. If it hadn't been for the extra treats Lilly regularly snatched off the dinner table and out of the pantry, his diet would have been very sparse.
The next few minutes the two youngsters spent eating the stewed peach in companionable silence, and when the jar was empty, Lilly licked it clean, leaving the spoon to the Elf.
"You look like a cat," Orophin said, and she purred. Both laughed, then Lilly got serious.
"Father had a terrible argument with grandpa today, and it was about you."
Orophin cocked his head.
"About me? Why?"
She shrugged.
"Our king has banished slavery from his kingdom five years ago, and there are talks about an alliance with an Elven realm. Father is afraid he might get into trouble if it's found out he keeps you here, so he wanted to release you. Grandfather got really angry, saying he paid a fortune for you, and would not hear of such nonsense."
The face of the young elf closed up.
"So?"
Lilly sighed, and put the jar aside.
"I'm afraid as long as grandfather lives, you will not be free."
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke a word. The Elf had the usual neutral expression on his face, and Lilly saw resignation in his eyes.
"Orophin, I really want my grandfather to live a long time. But I promise you, the day he dies, I will set you free myself."
Orophin shrugged.
"Free? What for? I have never been free. Where would I go to? I am not like you, people would give me funny looks."
She shook her head.
"You could go to a place where your own people live."
"My people? I have no people, Lilly. I'm on my own."
There was much bitterness in his voice, and Lilly felt bitter, too. Bitter and angry with her grandfather for treating Orophin the way he did, angry with her father for his weakness, and angry with herself, too.
"You have people, Orophin. Look," she gently pushed the half-long strands of silver blond hair which covered his ears away, revealing their leaf-like form with the pointed tips, "there are people with ears like yours, who would treat you well and not - chain you up."
The last part of the sentence she almost spat, and he quickly turned away, for one because he was ashamed, as always when she mentioned the chain around his neck. But he was also embarrassed, because her gentle touch to his ear was all but calming, and he felt how he blushed.
And of course, the wicked girl had noticed.
"Do you like it when I do - this?" she asked, a cheeky smile on her lips, and caressed his ear again.
He shied away from her.
"You really shouldn't do this, Lilly. REALLY shouldn't do this," the Elf stuttered, but since when would this have stopped a woman?
Lilly gently traced his ear again; he groaned, and everything changed. Something was there that hadn't been before, and Orophin didn't know if this was for the better or the worse.
"Remember? I have been fascinated by your ears ever since - oh, ever since I was a little girl. And while I got older, you always looked the same. Indeed - if I look at you now, you don't look a day older than I do, but you must be almost as old as grandpa. And you are beautiful."
"Beautiful? Me?" Orophin asked, and almost laughed. He looked down at his hands - calloused, with dirt under the fingernails no water or soap could ever wash away, covered up to his elbows in countless blisters and burn marks from the hard work by the fire.
Lilly didn't answer, but she caressed his ear again, and Orophin closed his eyes. He opened them immediately, though, when he felt her lips on his.
He stared at her in utter disbelief, and she didn't look less confused. There was a loaded silence; finally, Lilly took a deep breath, and started to fish around in the pocket of her skirt. After a while, she found what she had been looking for.
It was a key.
Maybe she had still doubts about what she was doing here, but she didn't hesitate a moment, and when the lock of the chain sprang open, she felt like a lock on her heart had been opened as well.
Orophin stared down at the chain which had fallen to the floor, and his hands touched hesitatingly his throat. For the first time in fifty years there was no chain around his neck - he was free.
Free.
"I am sorry, it was not right to do this, not when you were chained up. Look, I want you to go, Orophin. It is not right to keep you here. You must go and find your own people."
He tried to say something, but words failed him.
"Go, please. Before anybody notices."
Free. He was free.
"Lilly - what will they do to you when they find out?" he finally managed to ask.
"They won't find out. And even if... oh, it was not right in the first place to put you here. But grandpa is old - in his time, people thought it was normal to have slaves," she added, almost apologizing.
Orophin was still touching his neck, then he got up, and took a few steps. For the first time in his life, he could walk as far as he wanted without the chain tearing on his neck. It was… he didn't have words for the feeling. It was like a dream.
Finally, he sat back down beside her. There was a lot he wanted to say, but he had no words, and she hugged him, which felt very good; he couldn't remember the last time somebody had hugged him. Then her lips were on his again, his first real kiss, and indeed, this was even better than the hug. At first, it was strange, having somebody else's tongue in his mouth, but it was nice, too, like wet silk, and he felt the heat rise, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled.
She straddled him, and ran her fingers through his shaggy hair.
"You taste different than men," she finally said, and he cocked an eyebrow. Unsure where to put his hands, he rested them on her waist.
"Different?"
"Yes. Different. Better different. Like something fresh and green and crispy."
"Lettuce?"
She laughed.
"I didn't think I'd ever get that enthusiastic about lettuce!"
"Are you enthusiastic about me then?" he asked, and again, there was something new, something frightening, but exciting and beautiful at the same time.
Lilly looked at him, her hands playing in his hair.
"Very enthusiastic. Don't you remember? When I was a child, I told you I would marry you one day."
He rested his head on her shoulder, not sure if he was allowed to, but she didn't push him away, just continued to stroke his hair.
"You are not a child anymore."
"No. Nor are you, Orophin. Not after tonight, anyway."
Again, she caressed his ear, and he leant into the touch, willing to let her take the lead. She realized he was giving her his consent, and she kissed him, her heart jumping when he returned the kiss with little skill but a lot of enthusiasm. Then there were only touches and kisses, whispered words and clumsy fumbling. It was a good thing Lilly knew, at least by hear-say, what she did, for Orophin most certainly had no idea, and if the two hadn't been so completely overwhelmed with their emotions, they would surely have laughed about each others' clumsy first steps on the treacherous dance-floor of passion.
But as things were, they didn't laugh, for this was a serious thing which happened. Many, many millennia later, Orophin would still remember this night in all details, and his first love would have a special place in his heart for all eternity.
Finally, they lay spent, snuggled up to each other, and Lilly was drawing ornaments on Orophin's chest with a strand of her hair.
He chuckled.
"This tickles."
"Does it?"
"Yes."
"I love you."
"You shouldn't."
"I know. But I love you, anyway."
* * *
"Orophin?" Glorfindel asked, and the Galadhrim shook his head, looking at him confused.
"My apologies, my lord - I was distracted."
"It's the age, dear friend - you should eat more garlic," Fin snickered, then he beckoned the blacksmith to come closer.
"My friend, this is Orophin of Lórien, the guardian of my son and heir. I would like you to fetch the sword I ordered - I assume it is finished?"
The blacksmith bowed, eyeing Orophin respectfully.
"Of course, my lord. I promised it would be finished by today, and it is finished. Just one second."
With this, he left, and they heard him rummaging in the backroom of the workshop. He soon returned, carrying a masterfully forged sword. Orophin's eyes got wider - by the Valar, this was a sword worthy of a king!
"Ah, here we got it. Orophin, do me the favour and try it out."
"Me? But - I am no expert in sword fighting," the Galadhrim protested, but Fin shook his head and cut him off with a short gesture.
"This is not about mastership, Orophin. I want you to try the weapon and tell me how it feels."
Orophin obeyed, and took the beautiful sword firmly in his hand, then he let the blade cut the air a couple of times experimentally.
"It is a wonderful sword, my lord. It is easy to wield, well-balanced and lies in your hand as if it was part of your arm. The work of a master," he added, and bowed in front of the blacksmith, who immediately grew two inches with pride.
Fin nodded.
"Indeed. And I am glad to hear you like the weapon. I wouldn't want you to carry around a sword you don't like."
Orophin looked at him, confused, and didn't really understand what the lord was saying.
Glorfindel rolled his eyes.
"Read what's written on the blade, Orophin."
The Galadhrim turned the sword, and read - his name.
"This is... my sword? For me?"
Fin nodded, and the blacksmith hastened to add; "This is the blade named Tirith, for you are The Guardian, and it shall serve no other master but you."
Orophin still couldn't believe his luck, and Fin put his hand on the shoulder of the confused Galadhrim.
"Orophin - you have served Imladris well. You have saved the life of the twins more than once when they were little, and now I entrust you to protect my son. I do so because I know you are trustworthy, an Elf of honour and loyal to my family. A blade like this needs a master worthy of its virtue, and you, my friend, are worthy. So take this sword, and may you never need to use it to protect my family, but if you have to, it shall serve you well."
"Thank you, my lord. I don't know how I can ever repay you for this gift."
Fin shrugged.
"Two gold pieces a month, plus instalments."
* * *
Haldir greatly enjoyed having both his brothers gathered around his table this evening. They were exchanging the latest news, retelling old battle tales and trying to outdo each other with exaggerations and hackneyed stories, while Bramble sat on Rúmil's lap, chewing on one of his braids.
"Rúmil, I shall not bother you with the tiresome question as to whether there is a chance you will finally get married, and start the production of the grand-children Nana so desperately hopes to meet once you travel to Valinor," Haldir joked, and Rúmil laughed.
"Ai, Haldir - with Bramble, she already has one adorable granddaughter, and I have no intention to settle down - why should I be with one if I can have all of them?"
Haldir rolled his eyes.
"Still in your old ways then, aye?"
Rúmil grinned.
"I can't help it - see, it would be most unfair to restrict my attention and legendary skills in love to one fair Elf and disappoint all others. This would be an act of despiseable egotism - surly you wouldn't want that?"
Haldir gave him a smug smile.
"No, we don't want this. But I also don't want to see you end speared on Lord Glorfindel's sword, dear brother."
Rúmil cried out in mock insult.
"Haldir! How can you even think such a thing! I shall not even look at Master Erestor's fair features - at least not when Lord Glorfunzle is present."
Haldir whacked him with a cushion, and Orophin grinned. It was good to be reunited with his brothers; though he was happy for Haldir and his little family, he had missed him very much, and the rare occasions when they had met were always hours he remembered fondly for a long time after.
Haldir, he mused, was the luckiest of them. He had never known the pain of losing a family, or lived in hardship. He had been brought to the Golden Wood when he was a mere babe, and so he had neither suffered from nightmares nor had he been hunted by painful memories, and for this, Orophin was grateful. He had always felt very protective towards the youngest of the family, and even if Haldir had often driven him up the wall with his attitude of acting first and thinking afterwards, he loved him dearly.
"Talking about fair features - when will Rabbit finally grace us with his presence, Haldir?" Rúmil asked. He had seen the fabled mate of his younger brother only once, from a distance, and he was curious to see who and how the Elf was Haldir had chosen for a life mate.
Haldir shrugged.
"Rabbit doesn't like company. He comes and goes as he pleases."
"And you are comfortable with this?" Orophin asked, a little worried.
"Of course. We are not each other's masters."
What Haldir didn't mention was that he would have loved to have Rabbit here tonight, too, having all of his family gathered around one table. But Rabbit didn't want to, so he had to accept it. There was no point in discussing this with his brothers, though they were happy for him and willing to accept Rabbit, they would not understand the very special relationship he and Rabbit had. At times, even he didn't understand it.
The door clacked, and Rabbit stood in the room, regarding all present. They felt he was evaluating them, so they didn't move. Haldir got up, beaming at his mate.
"Rabbit - it is good to see you."
The tall, rangy Elf stayed where he was, then he pressed a gentle kiss on Haldir's lips.
Rúmil, as usual, was the first to find his tongue again.
"Greetings, Rabbit. I am most pleased to see you."
Rabbit felt the honesty behind the phrase, so he allowed himself a smile.
Then he sniffed.
Like all of his kind, most of the way he saw the world around him was determined by scent - he could smell fear, lies, love, hate, sadness, dishonesty and loyalty like other Elves smelled strawberries or grilled fish. And Rabbit classified the beings he met by their scent - every family had their own, unmistakable scent, so even if nobody had told him, he knew long ago that Elrond, Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir were of the same tribe, and that Erestor was of his own blood. So he sniffed Haldir's brothers - and was confused.
He looked at Haldir, then he looked at Rúmil, who sat closest to him, sniffed again, then he shook his head.
If they were brothers, why didn't Rúmil have the scent of Haldir's tribe?
* * *
Women usually did not frequent the "Golden Hind", at least none of a decent reputation. So the inn keeper was a little surprised when he saw the young woman with the basket enter his tavern. She looked around, noticing the odd looks she got, but didn't hesitate when she came over to him.
"I want to speak to the Elf," she said, her voice sweet, but firm.
"Elf? I don't know of Elves, young miss, and this is no place for a young miss to be at this time of the night, if I may say so," he grumbled, continuing to dry glasses with a dirty towel, but she only shook her head.
"I know there is an Elf. He is in your backroom, playing cards."
Quickly, the inn keeper scanned the room for possible spies of the king, then he addressed the young woman again.
"Hush, young miss - you are speaking nonsense. There are no Elves here, no backrooms, and certainly nobody is playing cards!"
She rolled her eyes.
"I have no business with your business, Sir. But I have something here which I must give to the Elf, so you either show me the way to your backroom, or I shall ask one of the royal guards to help me find it. Which option do you prefer?"
Wimminfolk, he thought, they are the bane of all mankind. But still, better to give in than spend time on His King's expense in the dungeons.
"Come then, if you must," he grumbled, and lead the way through the kitchen. She followed him, holding the basket close to her, and finally, he gave two knocks to a small door and entered.
So this was a real Elf - she caught her breath. He was tall and beautiful beyond belief, silver blond hair went down to his waist, but he also was a warrior, this was clear to see, and for a moment, she was taken aback by his presence.
"Now what nonsense is this, man. Wimminfolk have no business to be here!" one of the players barked, and glared at the young woman. She glared back, not frightened at all, and, ignoring the rest of the players, addressed the Elf.
"Sir, if I may speak to you for a few minutes - in private?"
The Elf smiled - a very winning, charming smile, and she thought to herself that he probably was quite a handful.
"Ai - for a charming young lady, I always have time. Would you excuse us, my friends? I shall win your last pieces of gold later."
The Elf had a beautiful voice, like a song, but there was an odd, constructed way to his speech, and she guessed it was because he had his own language and the common tongue was strange to him. The men got up, not questioning his request, which had been more of an order, really, and she was not surprised, for there was a natural authority about him.
When everybody had left and the door closed behind them, the Elf sat down again, relaxing, and looked at her expectantly.
"So then, young lady - how can I be of assistance to you?"
"Sir, I have something which I need to give you."
With that, she put the wicker basket on the table, very carefully, and lifted the cloth which had covered the contents. Celeborn bent down, and his face took on an expression of surprise and amazement when he saw what the young woman had brought along.
"By the Valar - where have you found this, woman?"
She shrugged.
"It doesn't matter."
"Oh, it does matter, woman!"
With that, the lord got up, and lifted the tiny infant out of the basket. It was a male, hardly over a week old, silky silver blond hair covering the head, and the tiny, leaf-like ears with the perfectly pointed tips identified the baby as an Elf.
"Woman - Elven children don't grow on trees, and you certainly didn't find that one when you were collecting berries in the woods! So tell me, where does he come from?"
She shook her head, and only now he saw how pale she was, and how sad her eyes.
"I can't tell you, Sir. But he has nobody, and he should live with his people. I ... if circumstances were different, I would keep him here, but... please, Sir, take him with you. I am sure you will find somebody among your people who can look after him."
She broke off, and Celeborn could only stare down at the baby.
"Do you know his name?"
She shook her head.
"No. I ... don't know what names Elves have."
Celeborn studied her, and finally came to a decision.
"Very well then, I think I can believe you that you didn't steal the infant and only want his best."
Celeborn covered her small hand with his large, long-fingered one.
"Young lady - you know where you can find me. If you should - change your mind, or want to know how the wee one is doing, come to me. I shall ensure you have the same rights - a mother would have."
'He knows', she thought. 'He knows, but he accepts my decision.'
She nodded, then she pressed a kiss on the baby's brow.
"I thank you, Sir. But you shall not see me again."
With that, she put the hood of her cloak back over her head, and left the room, leaving a thoroughly confused Celeborn behind.
The baby started to whimper, and he put the little one back in the basket, carefully covering him again with the warm blanket.
"No name, and no family. Ai, you had a bad start, penneth, but I'll make sure things will improve now."
While Celeborn called for some extra blankets and milk, he thought about a name for the little boy. Armai, maybe. Or Feril. Or Haldir. Yes. Haldir had a nice ring to it.
So 'Haldir' it was.
* * *
Author's notes: surprise, surprise!
Thanks to each and everybody for the feedback, it is much appreciated. And though the offer to become chairelf of the "Society to eliminate Lady Firinwe" is most tempting, I think I will have to pass - for now.