CHAPTER FIVE
The snow had grown deeper since the night before, and Elrond led his guest down pathways few had trod that morning. One path led to a closed gate behind the ruins of the burned stable - ruins that both Legolas and Elrond tried to avoid looking at, lest they see too much death among the blackened and still-smoking wood that once offered safe shelter to loyal friends within.
"You'll be doing much coughing today," Elrond offered after Legolas had surrendered to the paroxysmal fit threatening his every breath in the cold air.
"It's disgusting."
"It is necessary," Elrond admonished. "The black phlegm must be expelled, else greater illness will follow. Come, we'll go more slowly to accommodate your malady."
Wheezing on his way, Legolas had to pause twice more to accommodate his lungs. "I hate this."
"I know you do. Look, the new stable is being erected over there." The elf-lord pointed to distract the slighter elf at his side. "A few walls are already in place, and that is where we are headed. I am shamed to admit that Imladris had no plan in case of such a fire. A meeting will be held after the stable is completed to form such a plan - who will enter if there is another fire and get them safely out, where they will be taken afterward."
"That's good, albeit a bit late for those who died." Legolas was horrified to realize he'd let down his guard enough to voice his thoughts aloud. "I am sorry, my lord Elrond. I spoke in haste and tactlessly."
"But with great honesty, reflecting my own judgment of my own incompetence." That long arm snaked around Legolas's shoulders once more.
Legolas didn't know how to reply to that assessment, much less how to respond to the touch that seemed to creep out whenever Elrond thought reassurance or comfort was needed. Falling into a wheezing silence, Legolas ignored his confusion and concentrated on reaching the half-constructed stables without coughing his lungs out again on the way.
Elrond released him only when they had reached the construction site. Hailing Glorfindel, he went immediately to the temporary paddock housing the smallest of the fire's victims. The weanlings watched their approach with little of the usual bright curiosity of foals, their expressions reflecting exhaustion and confusion at the turmoil that hat turned their young lives upside down the night before.
"How are they?" Elrond asked, low and urgent. Legolas stood close at his side, no less eager for Glorfindel's update.
"Last spring's foals are lowest to the ground; they are mostly all right," Glorfindel revealed. "The biddable mares I saved are also mostly all right. As for the stallions and the geldings..." He grimaced. "Many are not so all right. I'm sorry, Elrond, but the smoke took those sections first so that their exposure was longer and the damage is greater."
Glorfindel turned his attention to Legolas. "None of us could know this and you could not have prevented it, young one, so don't even try to presume any guilt over those we're bound to lose over the next few days, hmm?"
"We, all of us, did our best," said Elrond sadly. Legolas could have sworn the elf-lord was leaning into him, was trying to offer the same sort of physical comfort as could be seen between two horse-friends.
[Surely that's my imagination. Perhaps he only needs the contact as Glorfindel shares the worst of the news?]
"Go on," Elrond said quietly.
"Some are coughing already, and the outlook is hopeless," Glorfindel continued with obvious reluctance. "We're sending them on over the next hour."
"What of Assassin?"
Glorfindel was silent for a long moment. "I think you need to see him for yourself."
Breaking away from the fence, he led the way to a corner of the new stable, where a stall had been hastily erected and a rough-plank roof offered some shelter from the wind and the snow. Joining Elrond and Glorfindel at the stable wall, Legolas looked inside to see Elrond's foundation sire standing and coughing with his head held low.
"Not you, too," Elrond murmured.
This time, it was Legolas who sought to offer some comfort by leaning into Elrond. The gesture went unnoticed as the elf-lord quickly unlatched the door and stepped inside the stall. Turning toward his owner, Assassin stretched out his neck and nuzzled Elrond's hand. Long fingers rubbed the velvet muzzle, combed through the long white mane and rubbed at the lop-sided ears where they hung lax in exhaustion.
The stallion closed his eyes, surrendering his brief pose of strength as his breathing only grew more labored. His panting efforts to breathe rocked his entire frame forward and back with the fight to draw air into closing lungs. When he coughed again, thick black snot dripped from his nostrils. He was far from the fierce, fighting creature Legolas had met the night before.
"He is proud, Elrond, and very ill. You know that this is only the beginning. I recommend...."
"You recommend that we remember him as he was and send him on with dignity before none is left to him," Elrond said, his expression tight and pained as he gave voice to the words Glorfindel could not bring himself to speak.
"Yes."
[We are not having this,] Legolas thought.
"Excuse me, Lord Glorfindel," he rasped. Pushing past the Elf, Legolas let himself into the stall. Coming up beside Elrond, he combed through Assassin's mane to find Elrond's fingers. Wrapping his own around them, Legolas pulled the elf-lord's hands free and turned him away from the stallion.
"Explain this to me," Legolas murmured, demanding that the elf-lord focus on him, rather than on Elrond's own despair. "Make me understand the damage, so that a way might be found to repair it."
He heard Glorfindel's deep sigh and felt rather than saw him move away from the stall. [You've given up and so yes, you need to leave. Leave the two of us together and let me center your lord by discussing the facts,] thought Legolas. [Let Elrond detach a little and think like a healer for a moment, rather than as Assassin's friend.]
Choking down his tears, Elrond struggled to gather his words and answer. "The fire-smoke was hot enough to burn Assassin's throat and airways, just as it did yours. He and some of the others were in the fire longer than were you, which has resulted in serious breathing problems."
"What problems?"
"Assassin is not burned, though others probably are. Glorfindel has gone to put them down. As for my stallion, he is in severe respiratory distress; there is already upper airway obstruction."
The elf-lord tried to turn back to his friend. Catching his arm, Legolas guided him back around.
"In simple words, Elrond, what does that mean?"
"Assassin is experiencing the same thing you are, but to a greater degree. His airways cannot work properly to sweep dust, debris, and excess mucus from his lungs. Consequently, it has accumulated in his respiratory tract. While you are expelling it, Assassin is not.
"Additionally, the natural lubricant that normally keeps the sides of his lungs from sticking together and collapsing has been compromised, which means his lungs may collapse. Already, it is difficult for him to breathe. He is choking and his lungs are probably filling with fluid."
Legolas closed his eyes briefly at the description of the horse's suffering, feeling it mirrored in his own burning lungs. The harsh bark of Assassin's cough struck him almost as a physical blow.
A heavy hand smoothed down Legolas's hair. From somewhere deep within, Elrond summoned a sad smile. "As Glorfindel said, the outlook is hopeless."
"Not for this one, it's not."
"It is not your fault you couldn't save them all, and Assassin was the last to come out."
Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Do you want to send him on?"
"No."
"Then don't give up on him yet," Legolas pleaded. "He waited for me, he wouldn't leave his stall without me. I survived because he carried me. He deserves to live."
"He cannot live if he cannot breathe!"
Legolas's lungs claimed him in a coughing fit, one that drove him to the far corner of the stall to spit a disgusting mess into the bedding. Bracing his head against the wall and wheezing slightly, he said with quiet obstinacy, "Then we shall have to ensure that Assassin and the others continue to breathe."
Coming up beside him, Elrond rubbed his back. "Your ribs must ache already."
"They do, but my breathing is improving, thanks to your skill as a healer. Assassin and I suffered the fire together, suffered the same injuries. If you can heal my lungs, why not his? Treat him as you have treated me. That--that balrog piss has already started working for me; it's worth trying with him, isn't it? Give him that chance."
Elrond stood silently for a moment, then lifted his head to meet Legolas's intense gaze. The despair was being slowly replaced with determination as he nodded. "We will give him his chance. We shall work together, you and I, to save Assassin and the others."
"Yes, together," Legolas rasped, pushing away from the wall. "We should move them somewhere warmer, out of the cold until the stable is finished. The cold air makes it much harder to breathe. Fire up as many braziers as the households of Imladris can spare and treat everyone with balrog piss."
Elrond laughed in spite of himself. "The Hall of Fire might accommodate such an invasion."
Legolas looked up in surprised. "You would do that? You would take them indoors?"
"There will be a fuss from the Elves serving my household, but yes, it's the best place for them. As you say, they need warmth and shelter to rest. I shall command it, and all of Imladris will obey," Elrond concluded, only half-joking.
Legolas nodded and fought off another coughing fit as he followed Elrond from the stall. The orders were given and Legolas had the pleasure of seeing Glorfindel grin and nod at him.
[Well done,] that nod seemed to say, regardless many of the Elves scurrying to help looked as if they thought their master had gone mad.
"Into the Hall of Fire with the lot of them," Glorfindel agreed. "We'll get a fire blazing on the hearth and round up the necessary braziers and cauldrons. I'll see to boiling water for steam while you prepare a vast amount of that evil herbal concoction."
Elrond looked down at Legolas. "Will you help Glorfindel move the horses while I begin the brew to ease their breathing?"
"Of course."
Elrond left the makeshift stable while Legolas moved toward Assassin's stall. Without thinking, he left the door open and stepped within to wind his fingers in the stallion's mane.
"Will you walk with me to a place of warmth and healing? One that smells like your master, where he will always be near?"
The stallion lifted his head from where it hung near the straw, and his eyes lost some of the glassy look they'd had only moments before as he turned to touch Legolas's arm with his black-streaked, mucus-coated muzzle. The elf paused to wipe some of it away with his fingers, scraping it off into the bedding.
"We will heal this," he murmured reassuringly to the horse. "Your master knows what to do. He'll make it better. Be strong."
"Here now, what do you think you're doing?" asked one of the grooms, darting into the stall after Legolas. "No one but Elrond can handle him without a fight. Sick or no, it'll take four of us just to battle him out of here."
The stallion's ears flattened. Legolas let go the mane a moment before Assassin lunged and snapped his teeth at the groom, who leaped backward out of the stall. A colorful stream of Elvish curses blued the air as the groom landed on his butt. Backing up a step, Assassin leaned against Legolas and blinked with deceptive passivism.
"He annoyed me, too," Legolas said softly. Gathering another handful of mane, he asked, "Walk with me?"
Assassin not only found the strength to walk, he led the way from the stall.
"You might want to get out of the way," Legolas said mildly to the groom who was now kneeling in the dirt and rubbing his butt. Scrambling to his feet, the elf all but leaped around the makeshift stall to relative safety.
Pushing against Assassin's shoulder, Legolas guided him slowly across the field, through the open gate with Glorfindel standing watchfully aside, and down the same path Elrond and he had traveled earlier that morning.
"Where is the Hall of Fire, exactly?" Legolas called over his shoulder.
"Turn right and take the walled path back to the main courtyard," Glorfindel called from behind. "We'll take them all in through the front door, down the central corridor and into the hall proper."
So it was that Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood, led Elrond's foundation stallion through the front door of the Last Homely House just as Mithrandir was descending its interior stairway in search of his late-morning meal. Stopping dead on the stairs, the wizard gawked. Stallion hooves rang on the entry stones.
Legolas smiled but did not stop. "Good morning, Mith. Did you sleep well?"
"I... er...." It took a moment, but the gray wizard finally managed to recover himself enough to gather his robes, descend the steps, and join Legolas as he and Assassin gained the long corridor. "What, by all of Valinor, are you doing?"
"We're treating the injured in the Hall of Fire."
Assassin spared this new arrival a brief glance, then cleared his nostrils with a powerful snort, spraying the shining floor of the halls with black mucus before turning to wipe his nose on Legolas's tunic.
"Surely not. Does Lord Elrond know you're mucking up his corridors?"
"I know all about it." Elrond pushed back the huge ash doors leading into the Hall of Fire. "Tell Erestor we need more water," he ordered the obviously disgruntled house-elf hovering behind him.
"Good morning, by the way," he addressed Mithrandir. "It's good to see you up and about." To Legolas he said, "Take Assassin over there, by the fireplace where the kettles are boiling. We are heating the balrog piss--" "WHAT?" Mithrandir all but roared.
"It's a long story, I'll tell you later," inserted Legolas. Already, he could smell the herbal concoction, feel its oils being carried on the air and beginning to work on his lungs.
"It's heating," Elrond resumed and ignored the wizard, "and the kitchen is preparing bran mash for all those who are well enough to eat. Others are bringing hay and water buckets, and we're fashioning plank screens to make temporary stalls, but in the meantime I believe we can use the banquet tables, and... you and Glorfindel must tell me if I've forgotten anything."
"We will," inserted Glorfindel.
"I'll take him from here," Elrond said, moving in behind Legolas and smoothing a hand down Assassin's neck. Both horse and elf clearly drew comfort from the touch, and they moved slowly, silently toward the corner closest the hearth and its healing contents.
Mithrandir sidled up beside Legolas as Elrond began examining his horse in earnest. Grooms waited nearby with their charges as more horses were lead into the hall.
"So the two of you have not only met formally, but are working together." The wizard beamed. "That is well."
"I suppose you're right." Legolas pulled at the end of a heavy table. "Help me with this, please? We don't want any mishaps with Assassin."
"Of course, though I doubt he feels well enough to rear and attack anyone."
Legolas spared him a quick grin. "I wouldn't make that sort of assumption."
Glorfindel grabbed the end of another table. "Despite our best efforts, you know we'll lose some."
"We have to try."
"Even if Assassin recovers, it probably won't be completely," the older elf warned as Mithrandir stood by. "Still, that stallion would probably be contented to sire many foals."
"That's enough, isn't it? Just having him live and be comfortable?"
"Elrond would be contented with just having Assassin in Middle-earth, to pamper him all of his days."
"I'm glad you think so," Legolas murmured. He started to help Glorfindel with the table, only to hesitate. "Pardon me for a moment, please? Elrond's herbs do their work too well."
Moving to a brazier, he took the time to cough and spit under Glorfindel's watchful eye.
"Why aren't you doing this as well?" he demanded of the elf-lord once he could draw breath without coughing again.
It was Glorfindel's turn to grin. "I got a head start on you and did it all night long in the privacy of my own quarters."
Other horses were being led into the hall now. Mithrandir got well out of the way while both elves went to help settle and tend them.
"Some look just fine, don't they?" Glorfindel commented. "No wheezing, no coughing. But we can't assume that no damage has been done. It's insidious enough to show up later, so we'll treat them anyway."
"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," Legolas rasped before breaking away to cough again.
"There's a good warriors' attitude," Glorfindel muttered as he dragged another table across the floor.
Elrond was busying himself with treating other horses, so barring any specific orders Legolas went wherever he saw he was needed. The hours fled by as all settled into a rhythm: keep everyone warm, keep the air moist, use the ready supply of herbs and the braziers, refill the boiling cauldrons and kettles of water, take the patients for walks, and urge the house-elfs to continue cleaning up after them. A lot. Legolas soon approached Erestor with a request that minders be posted with buckets and shovels.
"Pick up the manure once the horse moves away. If you see him start to spread, head in with your bucket," he told one timid elf, who seemed more than a little reluctant to do her job.
"Head in?where?"
"Under his belly," Legolas snapped, gesturing vaguely to the horse's sheath.
"I'm not a stable-groom," she protested. "I'm a house-elf! I've no idea how horses?do things.
"He's male, and he pees like any other male. The source should be no great mystery to you."
The newly recruited groom drew herself up at the obvious insult, then shoved the bucket at Legolas.
"You know so much about it, *you* catch it. You're clearly accustomed to handling such muck."
"It's in the house. It's yours," Legolas pointed out, ignoring the bucket altogether. "You can either catch it in a bucket or mop it up after. I really don't care which, so long as the area is kept clean around the horses."
"But horses in the Hall of Fire - horses dumping in the Hall of Fire - it's a disgrace!"
"It's necessary," said Legolas, pointing out a small pile. "You need to attend to that."
The elf did so, chasing the manure awkwardly around the floor with her shovel before capturing it. She then transferred it to a basket, displeasure clear through her pursed lips and wrinkled nose. "How long are they staying?"
"Until the stable is finished."
"Ugh! We'll never be able to eat here again! And where are we supposed to sing? And dance?"
Legolas shrugged. "There's always the rest of Imladris. Urge your friends to work faster on the stable."
"But it's mid-winter, and... and... you have no compassion!" She looked near tears as Legolas pointed out another horse lifting its tail not far from her elbow.
"I do, but it's all for the horses."
"You're... you're disgusting! Who are you, anyway, that you can just walk in here and tell us what to do?" Glowering, she all but threatened him with her shovel.
"He is someone who likes horses," said a new voice, the voice of the Master of Imladris. "There's a stallion spreading now -- off with you."
"Yes, m'lord." The embarrassed elf struggled to control both bucket and shovel as she scampered off to do her master's bidding.
Legolas's eartips were glowing. Again. "I hope I didn't offend--"
"Not at all. The inside elves have always thought their jobs more important than those who serve outside. Horses invading Imladris... it's not been done before. And by the way, I don't think you know what a miracle it is that Assassin carried you from the stable, and that he allowed you to lead him here today."
"Actually, *he* led *me*. Both times."
Elrond nodded understanding. "You would do well to remember his name and its meaning, then. Assassin has never carried anyone in the past but me, nor has he willingly allowed others to lay hands on him, much less walk with him."
"He seems more than merely a horse somehow," Legolas said thoughtfully. "Perhaps he recognized the necessity."
"Necessity does not move Assassin. He will fight to his own detriment if he feels insulted or misused. Affection moves him. Affection he clearly feels for you."
Erestor interrupted them in that moment, relieving Legolas of any need to respond. Indeed, he didn't think he could have responded if he'd had to.
"As ordered, m'lord, I have stayed out of your sight until mid-day meal, which banquet has been arranged for your dining pleasure inside of the library."
"The library?" Elrond looked as incredulous as he sounded. "You've invaded my books with food?"
An unrepentant Erestor gazed back at his master. "You have taken over not only the Hall of Fire, but the great hall with horses. Where else are we to serve you and those who toil to save the animals of which you are so fond?"
"Set up tables in the corridors!" Elrond ordered. "I don't want anything edible near the books."
"Yes, m'lord. Immediately with the next meal, m'lord. I am quite certain they will not mind dining in the hallways where the coughing horses are led about. But plates have already been set out as well as wooden goblets that might be carried for instant refreshment wherever your helpers go. Perhaps everyone would like to partake of the banquet now and save us the trouble of moving everything twice? We have worked hard gather a few tables to accommodate your banquet, but were able to find none for sitting. There seems a great shortage of tables at present." Gazing around the Hall of Fire, the Elf managed to register his disapproval without another word.
Elrond sighed his defeat. "As you will, Erestor. Please let everyone within the halls know that they may take their mid-day meal in the library at their leisure."
"Yes, m'lord, but won't you serve yourself in peace first?"
"Come, Elrond," Mithrandir admonished, sidling up on the elf-lord's elbow. "You know that this fellow will not give it up until our small group has eaten. In truth, you've all been laboring for hours. A small break with a meal seems in order to me."
"As you will," Elrond grumbled again. But he still led the way out of the Hall of Fire and into his beloved, if invaded, library.
"It's revenge, you know?" he said companionably to Legolas, who followed in Mithrandir's wake with Glorfindel. "I have invaded Erestors halls, so he has invaded my beloved books."
"But just as his precious hall may be washed down and restored to its original splendor once we are finished," said Glorfindel, "Erestor will take great care to preserve the sanctity of the mausoleum--"
"The what?"
"Ah, pardon me... the museum Lord Elrond has accumulated over the years."
"Mausoleum? Is that what you think of my preservation efforts? Have you no respect for the history or lore of Middle-earth, even considering the great part you have played in it?"
"I *died*, Elrond. I fail to see how getting a balrog stuck in my golden tresses and being dragged to my doom constitutes any great historical event in your tidy little tomes."
Mithrandir winked at Legolas. "There they go again. You and I shall gather our plates and sneak off to a quiet alcove to enjoy our repast. Those two, in the meantime, will continue one of their incessant debates."
"What do you think of Lord Elrond's library?" Legolas couldn't resist asking.
"Hmm? What? Oh, it comes in very handy when wishes to investigate the really important things - like the history of pipeweed since the beginning of the Shire."
Together they headed for the food laid out beneath the elegant flying buttressed ceiling.
CHAPTER SIX
"Did you see Arwen?" Elrond asked as soon as they'd finished eating, in between the dessert and the wine.
"I met with your daughter this morning," Mithrandir replied. "She has agreed to go to Lothlorian with me and will leave as soon as she is ready. Her brothers will join us on the road, so she will be well-protected."
"Good. My daughter has been in seclusion since her mother's death," Elrond offered explanation to Legolas.
"I see," said Legolas. [In seclusion, probably so she won't have to watch her father court his new consort.]
A groom came to the library door at that moment, wanting to consult Lord Elrond and Glorfindel on some detail or other in the horses' care.
"We should get back to the horses," said Legolas, starting to get up from the large and far-too-comfortable chair he'd homesteaded at the beginning of the meal.
"No, let me answer this one's question and then we'll enjoy the peace a few minutes more," said Elrond, standing and patting Legolas's knee. "Join me, please, Glorfindel?"
The elf-lord grumbled a bit, but did as he was bid.
"Are you all right with my leaving you here?" Mithrandir asked the moment the two were out of earshot.
"Nothing will change whether you're here or not," Legolas answered quietly. "I remember your warnings and am behaving accordingly."
The wizard nodded. "You're doing well, he likes you. I have sent word of our safe arrival to your father, and trust that Elrond will send some sort of message himself. What is your first impression?"
"His horses like him, so he's a man of honor at least where they're concerned."
Mithrandir gave a low, delighted laugh. "I suspect that Elrond would say the same of you at this point. Carry on as you have, and I daresay your joining will be less painful than you think."
"I don't want it to be less painful," hissed Legolas as the two elf-lords broke off their discussion and headed back across the library. "I want its necessity to go away."
There wasn't time for Mithrandir to reply, so the wizard sagely remained silent. Slouching in irritation, Legolas stared at the snowflakes falling beyond the library balcony.
[My hand's starting to hurt again,] he realized. [Must have used it too much this morning.] The bandage was soiled as well, he noted. He made a brief effort to scrape at some of the worst of the stains, then abandoned it.
"Just a few minutes more," Glorfindel sighed, sinking back down into his chair and twirling a wine goblet between his fingers. "Then we'll return to battle."
"And so, Mithrandir," said Elrond, pouring himself another glass of wine. Legolas shook his head in a second refusal as the carafe was offered to him. "What news have we from Mirkwood?"
"News? What news are you expecting?"
"You were supposed to bring someone to me yesterday, were you not? Or at least news of him. Is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, on his way to Imladris?"
Mithrandir looked back at his host in obvious confusion. "He is not. I thought--"
"He is not? I thought he was to arrive forthwith. Has Thranduil decided not to follow through with the agreement?"
The wizard held up a hand to stay the cross words, and shook his head. "I thought you knew...."
"Knew what?"
"Legolas arrived with me last night. Ah, Elbereth, was it only last night? Seems much longer than that. Any road--"
"Then where is he?" Elrond snapped. "I've not heard word of his arrival."
"Legolas is sitting right there next to you." Gesturing shortly, the wizard indicated the blonde Elf sprawled in the chair next to Elrond's own.
Glorfindel abandoned his wine and sat up. Legolas closed his eyes, only to open them again and meet Elrond's astonished gaze head on. [If I'm to meet my doom here in the library of Imladris, I want to see it coming for me. At least there's a fair collection of weaponry about; if he attacks me, am I not entitled to at least attempt to defend myself?]
"You are... certain?" Elrond pursued.
"I've known him since before he was born, of course I'm certain. Legolas, why didn't you introduce yourself?" Not bothering to move or shift position since no courtly bow or other formal gesture could save him now, Legolas offered a weak smile, waggled the fingers of his bandaged hand, and murmured, "It is good to finally meet you, my lord Elrond."
Elrond said nothing for a long moment. He merely stared. "But you... You're not what I envisioned or expected at all."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"You're not a thing like your father!"
Legolas offered a wry smile. "Thank you for the compliment."
"You...thank me for what?"
"Come, Glorfindel," said Mithrandir, rising and stretching his back. "These two need to be alone."
"But I've not finished my wine."
"Yes, you have."
"I want to stay and hear this out."
"No, you don't. It's time for private things between these two and so come along. We'll go see some Elves about some horses."
Legolas didn't think Elrond was even aware of their being left alone. Shifting in his seat as his back was beginning to ache, Legolas sat up and faced his foe directly.
"I said thank you for the compliment because I'm glad to be nothing like my father," he explained. When Elrond didn't respond, but merely kept staring as if in trance, Legolas tried again. "Mithrandir was grinning when he left us. Is that a good sign?"
"I'm...never sure."
"I didn't mean to deceive you. It's just that the horses needed our full attention and you didn't need the distraction any more than they did."
"That's certainly true." The trance seemed to break. Gray eyes raked Legolas from top to toe, much as they had in the bath, but with a gaze even more compelling than it had been then. "You are a surprise, Legolas Thranduilion, but I think you know that."
"I know that you were probably expecting someone like my brother, who is very much like my father. Am I such a disappointment, then?"
Elrond laughed outright at that. "You are far from being a disappointment, Legolas. On the contrary, you are a pleasant surprise. My horses like you. Assassin likes you, which makes you a wondrous miracle come from Mirkwood. I cannot think why I did not ask your name."
"You assumed I was an advance scout, I believe. No name necessary."
"You heard the conversation between Glorfindel and me this morning, then?"
With some reluctance, Legolas nodded. "I didn't intend to listen at the door. Your antechamber is very small, and sound travels very well."
"A fact which Erestor has never seen fit to tell me. Thank you for the warning, Legolas. I shall make him wait in the outside corridor, or down here on the main floor from now on." The smile Elrond offered seemed genuinely warm. "I wish you had at least confided your name to me."
"Had I done so, everything would have changed. Everything will change now, when my presence is announced to your people. Whether I am welcomed by them or not, I will prove a distraction to them. The horses won't have their undivided attention, and they must. But it's not my place to...." He let the sentence trail off, not even certain of what he had wanted to say.
"It's not your place to keep your arrival a secret from my people," Elrond finished for him. "How can you care so deeply for animals that are not your own?"
"If you are kind to a horse, if you respect its needs and know how to enter into its world, that horse will offer you their loyalty and devotion without reservation. It's not Assassin's fault he's been hurt, and it's not his fault I've arrived and might prove the distraction that defeats him in the end." Legolas shook his head. "I don't want that to happen. He saved me, so I suppose I'd like to save him."
"There's more to it than that, I think," Elrond said softly. "I've raised two sons, Legolas, and have counseled many sons of other Elves. I have some instinct where young anxieties are concerned, and while you work comfortably with me around the horses, much tension arises in you the moment we are alone. I do not understand why this should be so."
"I could explain but there isn't time, Lord Elrond. I am here to become your consort, to finalize the alliance between Imladris and Mirkwood, but the horses need us. Your people can wait to meet their... prince." He nearly spat the word. "I can wait to meet them, but Assassin and the others cannot wait."
"And you would rather not be known to them just yet."
"No, my Lord Elrond."
"Then we shall call you Lasgalen until such time as your identity can be revealed, until I and all of Imladris can welcome you properly. How is your hand feeling?"
Legolas blinked at the sudden change of subject. "It... aches a bit."
"Then let us divert to my chambers and apply more oils, rewrap it in something a bit cleaner and protect it well before you return to your labors. And please don't use the new bandage to wipe noses."
Moving toward the stairs, Elrond turned back and very nearly stepped on Legolas's toes as he followed obediently him. "I want you to know, I looked forward to your arrival and am glad you are here, Legolas. I only wish the night had been less chaotic when you arrived. That does not mean I am unhappy you were there to save my friends."
"Thank you, my lord."
['Thank you, my lord.'] Elrond echoed Legolas's words after they had returned to the Hall of Fire. Legolas stayed at his side and, true to his word Elrond began calling him Lasgalen. Their work with the horses continued as before, its rhythm was uninterrupted except for one thing.
['Thank you, my lord.' A proper, formal response when before I distinctly remember him calling me Elrond. Now, he is tense. Formal. Stilted in my presence, and I have no further answers than before as to the reason why.]
[Legolas sought this alliance along with his father, did he not? If so, then why has he withdrawn into himself? Where is the ferocity he showed in fighting to give Assassin his chance at life? Where is the eagerness one might expect from a new consort?]
[I tend his injured hand... he suffers my touch but does not welcome it. I lean against him, he allows it and sometimes, yes, he leans back, but will not initiate it. He submits to me, but that is only on the surface or when he forgets and is focused elsewhere.]
The afternoon wore on, with Elrond setting aside his concerns as he could to focus on the tasks at hand. Horses were tended in a seamless rhythm of steam, walking, oils and comforting words and rubs amid a chorus of deep, bone- rattling coughs. From time to time, he and Legolas would recheck a horse, lock gazes, and one or the other of them would smile slightly. Sometimes they shook their heads in silent agreement and then Legolas would stand quietly with the suffering animal while Elrond said his good-byes. Once the Lord of Imladris had turned away, Legolas led the horse quietly from his presence, out into the hallway and on to Glorfindel.
It was Glorfindel who took the dying for their last walk. By sunset, a dirty path was worn into the snow, out behind the northwest pasture where the trees blocked the view of the final good-bye.
There were considerably fewer horses inside of the Homely House at the end of the day than there had been at the beginning. Assassin stood with them and while he was not yet out of danger, neither was he any worse. Elrond thought Legolas took courage from that fact, but could not be sure. Where Legolas was concerned, Elrond was certain of nothing, save the determination that seemed to radiate from him.
[Nothing,] thought Elrond, watching Legolas start the trek to hand over a sweet little mare to Glorfindel, but not until he'd whispered his own good-bye into the velvet ear.
Her eyes were wide with her panicked struggle to draw air into failing lungs, her chin thrust forward and nostrils flaring widely as she panted hard enough to rock her body forward and back as she fought. She was suffering and frightened, and there was only one thing left to be done for her. She was a sweet mare, a good mother, and a loyal and courageous mount in her day. She would be deeply missed by all who knew her, and evidently by those who had only just met her as well.
[How quickly Legolas comes to care for those who are helpless in our hands,] thought Elrond, [even as his father would take advantage of those helpless in his own hands. Helpless....]
Elrond watched as the mare was guided out of the hall and toward the main doors. Her steps were slow and tremulous, and Legolas steadied her with comforting hands as he kept up a litany of promises - promises of peace and comfort and the ending of her pain.
The high whinny of the mare's last foal - only lately weaned - followed her in a plaintive call. Her head lifted in recognition, but she had no strength to answer with anything but a silent farewell that barely caused her nostrils to flutter before another cough nearly took her off of her feet. Quick hands and an Elven body against her side steadied her, and then they moved forward once more.
The misery in the young elf's expression showed clearly as they moved past Elrond for that long, sad walk, and the foal called for his mother once more.
[There are so many in pain today, so many innocent ones suffering,] Elrond noted bitterly. Narrowing his gaze, the elf-lord turned away and returned to the Hall of Fire to tend more of his friends and to ponder the strange young Elf who had come none too eagerly to Imladris to be at his side.
Night fell, and Glorfindel offered to take first watch. Elrond let him, washing his hands for the last time and beckoning Legolas to his side. The Elf came, but not willingly. Fatigue was echoed in every bit of his lithe body. His blue eyes were dull and full of death-shadows - something Elrond recognized from his own time in battle. Sliding a hand slowly across the muscled shoulders, Elrond felt Legolas tense. He let his hand fall away.
"Why don't you bathe and then join me for a quiet supper alone in my chambers." It was not a request, and Elrond didn't mean for it to be. It was an expectation, one he knew would be fulfilled.
"Yes, Lord Elrond." The answer was as agreeable as always, but Legolas's shoulders were tense.
Nodding, Elrond left Legolas and went to confer with Glorfindel one last time on the night's treatment for the horses. The supplies were plenty and all was in order, but Elrond used one final check as an excuse to let Legolas slip away, unnoticed, with his head held high as any proud stallion's.
[Things are definitely not as Thranduil presented them to me,] Elrond growled inwardly. [Tonight, I will find out why.]
