VELVET AND GOLD
Genre: LOTR, slash
Pairings: Legolas/Estorel, Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: very mild R
Warnings: a wee bit of angst
Author's notes: the first chapter was "Day 5" of the Yuletide Tales 2004 (just in case it looks familiar to you). As it happens, a plot bunny bit my leg and it ended up being a three-chapter-story. :-)
Chapter 1
Gimli shuddered, despite the cosy fire he sat by, when the door opened and a blast of cold winter air blew into the hall.
The Dwarf immediately knew who it was that had entered, wrapped in a heavy cloak and accompanied by a servant who had shown him the way.
"Legolas! Laddie! What a sight for my old sore eyes!" the Dwarf boomed, jumping up and stepping carefully over his eldest son and his daughter who were playing on the hearth rug in front of his seat.
"Gimli! Old friend!"
Legolas, his face flushed from the warmth, took off his cloak and handed it to the servant, who left to take the garment to the Mirkwood Elf's guest chamber. Legolas ran his hands through his hair, and gave his old friend and brother-in-arms a big smile.
Gimli quickly crossed the room, and hugged the Elf around the waist, squeezing him tight. Legolas bent down and returned the embrace, his joy at the reunion obvious on his face.
"Here, laddie, come and sit with me by the fire, until you can meet Lord Elrond."
Legolas, tired from the long journey, gladly accepted the offer. He went to the chair opposite Gimli's, careful not to step on the two Dwarflings who were so involved in their play that they didn't even look up at the new arrival.
"Did you get in a fight on your way here?" Gimli asked, and pointed at Legolas' torn sleeve. The Mirkwood Elf shook his head, and pulled on the small piece of fabric. When it finally tore off, he put it on the armrest to have it sewn back on later on.
"No, I got caught on a nail in the stables and tore it off," he replied.
"You are still grace personified, I see," Gimli said, grinning smugly, but Legolas was too tired to take the bait.
"Aaah… there is nothing like a comfortable chair in front of a warm fire," the Elf sighed, snuggling deeper into the comfortable chair.
"And the company of an old friend," the Dwarf added, putting his glass aside. Then he got up and filled one for Legolas from the kettle which was steaming peacefully over the fire.
The Elf sniffed.
"Mulled wine - just what I need to unfreeze the tip of my nose!"
Legolas stretched his long legs, then gave the Dwarf a smug grin.
"Remember our little drinking contest, back in Rohan?"
Gimli winced, but the Elf could not tell whether this was due to the memory of the hangover from Mordor the Dwarf had suffered from after that event, or if the pain was caused by Gimli's son who had used a moment of inattentiveness on his father's part to pull forcefully on his beard.
"Children are such a pleasure to have around," Legolas remarked dryly, and took another sip of wine. "It is a good thing Elves do not grow beards, though. The risk of injury is much lower that way."
Gimli ruffled the Dwarfling's hair.
"You've got braids, my lad, so better not raise your hopes of surviving parenthood unscathed."
Legolas laughed.
"Gimli, I am not even married yet, and already you discuss my children!"
The Dwarf winked at the Elf.
"Oh, they come quicker than you might think. I expect to see you and your wife here at Yuletide two years from now, sitting in front of the fire with your firstborn! Has your father recovered from his shock, by the way? It's said that his yelling could be heard even in Lothlórien when he learned the big news."
The Elf chuckled, and rolled his eyes.
"My father's bark is worse than his bite. It is true, though, that he did not break into joyful song when I announced that I intend to marry Erduil's daughter."
"He is the head of the clan of Northern Mirkwood, isn't he? Not a friend of your father, I remember."
Now Legolas had to laugh. He looked so young, Gimli thought, though he was over 3000 years old. Elves were miracles. And some of them had a decidedly mischievous nature.
"My father threatened that he would knit a warm hat for his head out of Erduil's braids if his daughter should dare to talk to me. Then Erduil let my ada know that in his part of Mirkwood, caves were there to store potatoes, not kings. They enjoy their mutual dislike greatly, and our marriage will give them countless hours of entertainment."
The two friends laughed, and the Dwarflings, though they had no idea what the grown-ups were laughing about, joined in. For a while, all four sat in companionable silence, then a noise at the door caught their attention.
Legolas looked up, and saw that the door had opened a tiny bit, but oddly, nobody seemed to wish to enter and join them.
"Please come in and join us by the fire," the Wood Elf said. The door opened a little more, but still, nobody entered. However, Legolas' ears picked up the sound of nervous breathing.
Gimli chuckled. He turned around, and said: "Come in, lad, your uncle Gimli is here, and a friend of mine. I'd like you to meet him. Just come right in, there's nothing to fear here."
Legolas arched an eyebrow, but Gimli didn't answer, just shook his head and smiled.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the door was pushed open slowly, and an Elf-child slipped in. It was a boy, maybe 30 years of age, long-boned and clad in soft brown leather leggings and a brown, woollen tunic. The narrow face was dominated by large brown eyes, and the black hair was neatly caught in a single braid, which hung over his shoulder. The boy was currently playing with the clasp on this braid, not sure of how to proceed, or whether it was safe to get closer to the visitor.
Gimli beckoned him to approach, smiling gently.
"Don't be afraid, little one. Look, this is Legolas, the Elf with the bad aim I've told you about."
Legolas wanted to protest, but when he saw the expression of excitement on the child's face, he decided that he could tie a knot in Gimli's beard once the young one had departed. The child came to stand beside the Dwarf, but he stared at Legolas as if he had been hypnotized.
The Mirkwood Elf felt a little uncomfortable under the child's scrutinizing look. The boy looked neat and clean, whereas he himself wore a jerkin of emerald velvet; an exquisite garment, but like the rest of him covered in the grime of a long journey.
"Legolas, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine: this is Estorel, the firstborn of our dear friends Erestor and Glorfindel."
Now it was Legolas' turn to stare. So this was the little Elf all of Arda spoke about! He still did not really understand how it had been possible for the two Elves to have this child, and certainly had no wish to hear any further details.
Estorel came closer, and then, very carefully and shyly, he reached out and stroked the soft piece of velvet on the armrest of Legolas' chair. He looked up at the Mirkwood Elf.
"My ada has golden hair too," he said.
"Has he?" Legolas asked, rather unintelligently.
Estorel nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes. But his is neatly kempt and braided, and he has no twigs sticking in it."
"Out of the mouth of babes..." Gimli snickered, and Legolas glared at him.
"So you are a real prince then?" Estorel continued his interrogation. Legolas shook his head.
"No, I am not a prince, penneth."
"But your ada is a king," Estorel stated, "then you must be a prince."
Legolas scratched his head, and while he was at it, discreetly removed a twig which, indeed, had tangled in his hair.
"Well yes, my ada is a king, but this does not make me a prince. It is complicated. I will explain it to you once you are grown up."
Estorel shuffled his feet and frowned.
"That is what all grown-ups tell me, every time I ask something."
"Then you should not ask things which are not the concern of an Elfling," Legolas replied, slightly desperate.
"Why not?"
"Because you are keeping our guest from taking a well-deserved rest after his long journey, son," Erestor's voice could be heard behind them. The advisor had entered and followed the conversation with silent amusement. However, he did not want to expose Legolas to further inquiries about his somewhat complicated family life and status in Mirkwood, so he decided to come to the Woodland Elf's rescue.
"Sia, look, he has golden hair, like ada! But he does not comb it!" Estorel cheerfully announced, and Legolas tried to hide in the depths of the chair.
"I am sure he does, Estorel, and it is not polite to annoy a guest in such a way. Why do you not go to the kitchen? Mauburz has just taken the cookies out of the oven, and if you ask her, she will certainly share them with you. Your brother helped her to make them."
Estorel's face lit up.
"Thank you, Sia!" The boy stroked the fabric one last time. "Can I have it, please?" he asked, his eyes full of hope, and Legolas, trusting that a positive answer would speed up the boy’s departure, nodded.
"If it makes you happy..."
"Thank you!"
Estorel took the piece of velvet, and showed his new possession proudly to Erestor.
"Look, Sia - the beautiful Elf is all soft!"
Then he dashed out of the door, and shut it with a loud 'bang', which made Erestor wince.
"Looks like you got yourself another admirer, laddie," Gimli grinned, "you soft, beautiful Elf, you."
"One more word, and this soft Elf here will hang you out to dry by your beard," Legolas growled.
Erestor bowed, but he had a smile on his face as well, and his eyes sparkled with mirth.
"My apologies - my son tends to speak whatever comes to his mind, he certainly had no intention of insulting you. He is very fascinated by velvet, and with the exception of his brother, uncle and father, he has not seen a golden-haired Elf yet. So naturally, your appearance made a great impression on him."
Legolas shook his head.
"I am not insulted, Master Erestor. From all my ada told me, I used to embarrass visitors regularly with my questions when I was an Elfling. This is overdue punishment for my evil deeds, I suppose."
"Your chambers are ready. When you wish to rest and refresh yourself, one of the servants will show you the way. I have a meeting in five minutes, so unfortunately I cannot keep you company, but I hope we will find some time for talk during your stay. I am very curious to hear how things fare in Mirkwood."
Legolas nodded.
"We definitely will, Master Erestor, I have some messages from my ada, anyway, which need to be discussed with Lord Elrond. I would also like to extend my gratitude for inviting me to attend the Yule festivities in Imladris."
Erestor nodded, bowed first to Gimli, then to Legolas, and left the room to return to his duties.
Legolas took another swig of the mulled wine, which, by now, had cooled down.
"There is nothing of a female about him," he finally said, "and yet, he has borne a child. This is very confusing."
Gimli thought about it for a moment, then he shook his head.
"I wouldn't call it confusing, laddie. Rather a miracle. And isn't anything that brings life a good thing?"
Legolas thought back on the many battles he had fought, the friends and the family he had lost, and he sighed.
"I guess you are right, my dear friend. Giving life is, in any case, better than taking it. I hold Master Erestor in very high regard. It is only that I cannot understand all this. I am nothing but a simple archer, Gimli, as you well know. I have not studied the sciences or read a lot of books like my ada and my uncle. Most of our warriors are better educated than me. I am a simple Elf, and I need simple answers."
Gimli smiled in his beard, and after a moment of contemplation, Legolas added:
"I am a simple Elf. But I am beautiful and soft. So I shall not complain. And now I would really like more of this mulled wine, dear Gimli."
* * *
The box had been carved by Orophin for Estorel to keep his little treasures in - a present on his last begetting day. The child kept it hidden under his bed, and while the contents of this box might have looked like a collection of junk to others, it was worth more than gold to Estorel. Dried autumn leaves. Pebbles from the Bruinen. Chestnuts. A hairclip. Raven feathers and a Warg tooth Rabbit had given him. A book of colourful pictures from Lindir. Things of great importance and value for the child.
Estorel carefully put the small piece of emerald velvet in the box. He held it softly, as if it was a fragile thing like a butterfly, then he closed the lid and pushed the box back under the bed.
Then he hurried to the kitchen, for Estorel, like all children, favoured cookies over princes, real or fake ones.
* * *
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