CHAPTER SEVEN - LEGOLAS
I was in trouble. I was in more trouble now than I could ever have imagined. I had hit Lord Glorfindel, I had bitten Arwen. I yelled at Lord Elrond, and I used the words Gerdan had told me never, ever to say if I wasn't with the soldiers. This was really awful.
I was so scared when Arwen pulled me out of the tree. I thought it was Galion again. Really, I had thought it was him and I just wanted to get away. I've bitten him before. I made him bleed sometimes, and I'm not sorry either. I'm not sorry I bit the Elf Lady...but I shouldn't have bitten her. The Big Elves like Arwen, and now everyone is angry with me, and they'll tell Mithrandir what a ...what did Arwen call me? Horrid. They'll tell him I'm a horrid little Elf, and then he'll know and he'll send me home again, and then it WILL be Galion pulling me out of the tree again.
I hadn't felt this bad since I met Mithrandir, maybe ever. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, I pressed my face against the rough, wet bark. It wasn't Mith's beard, but it was as close as I could come. At least the tree still liked me. The tears started falling then, and I couldn't help crying. Galion was right. I was all of those things he said, and Arwen said, and Father said....
"Little Elf, are you awake?" It was Glorfindel.
My heart dropped down into my stomach and that began to roll over. Scared. Scaredscaredscared --I had bit him too! They sent him to fetch me in, I decided. They've figured out what to do with me, and he's come to bring me in so they can tell me and send me away.
"Could I come up?" He didn't sound mad.
I was startled and leaned over to peer down at him through the leaves. I suppose I wasn't as high as I thought, because he wasn't very far below me. He saw me then, and he smiled. And then he grabbed a branch and pulled himself up. Within just a moment he was seated beside me in the tree. Maybe I should get down? He could grab me and--
Glorfindel smiled sadly, then reached over to brush his fingers across my cheeks. I was too scared and worried to move, but his touch was kind and gentle, almost like Mith's.
"I thought you might be upset," he said softly. "I don't want you to worry about anything. You're not in trouble. No one is upset with you."
That was the silliest thing I'd ever heard from a grown Elf. How could they not be angry with me after all the awful things I'd just done? I bet I could just jump straight down and land well enough--
"We understand, Legolas. You were scared, and you were angry, and you answered in the only way you knew how."
He sounded like he meant that, and I could only stare at him. He smiled again, and it was kind of sad and kind of friendly all at once.
"You have a temper," Glorfindel continued. "You get angry. We all do, at some time or another. But we don't have to act the way you did tonight. We can control it and use it in other ways."
I guess he meant 'don't do that again,' but I wasn't sure.
"I can teach you how to act more appropriately when you are angry, if you'd like. I can show you what to do instead."
I considered this, then turned away. "Have to go now," I mumbled.
"We will talk again later, then."
I shook my head because he didn't understand. "No later. I have to go away."
"You want to leave Imladris?" He sounded surprised, but his eyes looked sad when I dared to glance over at him.
"No, but I have to. I...I bit Arwen and hit her and said bad things and yelled at Lord Elrond."
"That's all true, but that will all work out well enough. You'll see."
"They won't want me to stay." I didn't mean to sound as sad as I did, but it was hard to say that, and even harder to think of it.
He reached out then and touched my hair, stroking it like he did the horses' manes. "You are not going to leave Imladris, little one, and you are most certainly not going back to Mirkwood, if that is where your guilty thoughts are leading you. You live here, and here you will stay. And starting tomorrow, I'm going to teach you things."
He smiled and patted my shoulder and hopped out of the tree. Just kind of stood up and slid to the ground. I'd have to climb higher next time.
"Come in soon so you'll be dry in time for dinner." Waving, he walked back toward the house. I could see Lord Elrond at the balcony watching us, and he didn't look too angry any more, either, just interested.
Maybe it would be forgiven after all?
I slipped into the darkened stable with a sigh of relief. No one was here. No one saw me. I'd managed to leave those Big Elves behind. It had been an awful evening, and I was grateful to have reached safety finally. Stables were always welcoming.
I stepped carefully along the deepest shadows of the wall and listened to the familiar sounds as those in the stalls shifted in their deep straw beds and chewed contentedly at the sweet hay. The sounds were comforting in their familiarity, but I needed more right now. Where was Annun? I needed Annun. Now.
Stepping into the aisle, I was looking through the gloom, toward where I thought she was, when someone touched my head, pushing at me. I nearly screamed and would have, had my breath not been choked off by the leap my heart took. I spun away from capture, only to find a white horse head shining faintly in the shadows, ears forward and dark eyes kind.
A horse. I'd been frightened by a horse. I was disgusted by my scared-baby actions, but.... But I *was* scared. And I needed my friend, my only friend since Mith left, and I needed her now. The tears were getting closer every moment.
Abandoning all stealth, I ran down the deserted stable aisle, knowing well it was a breach of the rules and not caring one whit. A soft nicker greeted me, welcomed me. My trembling hands fumbled at the latch I'd assured Lord Elrond I could work easily, but it finally yielded to my fingers as Annun breathed encouragement down my collar. Pulling the stall door open, I lunged for her, leaning against her chest as I wrapped my arms about the base of her neck as far as they would reach, drinking in the warmth and comfort she offered. She breathed softly, not a snort, but something softer and more welcoming, and lowered her head over mine to enfold me with neck and head, her chin pressed against my hip.
"Oh, Annun, it's all gone wrong. Mith's gone away without us."
The tears won free finally, and I cried quietly against her chest as she breathed her sweet hay breath over me. Annun had always been part of my life, had always welcomed me, had never hurt me, never left me. Annun was... Annun was security and love and all things good. Even here, she was all of those things.
Tears spent, my heart finally slowed and I heaved a sigh that seemed the signal the old mare was waiting for. Raising her head, she poked me in the ear with her nose, then moved back to the tempting pile of hay in the corner. It was a generous amount, and I nodded in approval. At least they cared for the horses here, even if little Elves without wizards weren't welcome. I settled in the hay while Annun ate, relaxing in the reassuring familiarity of this haven. She ate steadily, sparing me an occasional touch or glance while I occasionally stroked her foreleg.
Finally, though, I stood up. Fright had been overcome, and curiosity was swiftly moving in its wake. I had planned to explore this place once I was alone, and this was the perfect opportunity. There were hiding places to find, corners to examine, horses to meet; I decided that it was going to be an exciti+ng evening. Hiding places came first, though, for surely someone would come to check the horses during the night, especially the big-bellied mares like Annun. Best I be prepared.
I gave her neck a pat, and she acknowledged my leaving with one ear canted toward me as I shuffled through the rustling straw. I guessed that if I wasn't crying or scared, the hay was more important. That was all right, I had more important things to do too.
I carefully closed the latch behind me this time, then turned to my first solo adventure in Rivendell. The first corner by Annun's stall had hay piled in it. Could I fit behind it?
It took some wiggling, and I had to pull it out from the wall just a little bit, but I could fit back there, and I didn't think anyone would notice me. This was good.
My spirits rising, I headed down the aisle, patting this nose and looking in that doorway. This was a huge stable, much bigger than Mirkwood's. Much better, too, with many possibilities. Before long I'd found at least seven good places to hide, several of which would probably work well even in daylight. I found what I guessed was a storeroom, as it held lots of work tools, grooming tools, carts for mucking out the big stalls, *huge* pitchforks and lots of other things. Curiosity dragged me to one corner, where carefully hung up on a rack was tack. A bridle, and a saddle. It was smaller than Mith's, with pretty things carved into the leather.
The pretty things were stupid, I decided. Who would want to ride in that? It was clean, though, the leather supple and it smelled wonderful. Somebody kept it in good shape, though I couldn't figure out why it was here.
The loft stairs were another exciting discovery. Hesitating, I peering into the darkness for any sign someone might be watching before I stepped onto the lowest stair. Stairs could cry out and creak and moan and tell all the big Elves for just miles around that I was climbing somewhere I ought not. I didn't trust stairs. But once I put my full weight on it, the step proved as sound as everything else in Rivendell. I jumped off of it and then back on, just to be sure, but nothing happened at all, except the horse in the stall across the aisle looked startled and started staring at me. I guess Big Elves don't do such things. I laughed at his surprise before hopping to the next step, and then hopped from one side to the other. Stair number two was friendly as well. On to number three!
It took quite a while, but I finally made it to the loft, confident that only the fourth step would squeak and give me away, and only on the right side. I'd accomplished a lot tonight, and I felt really pleased about it. Clambering up into the loft proper, I looked around at the lumps and piles in the shadows up here. I had to be careful because sometimes there were holes. I remembered the awful day when I stepped on a feeding hole that was intended for dropping hay down right inside the stall. I got dropped down inside instead, right in front of the horse in there. He was really scared, and so was I. Worse, it happened when Big Elves were in the stable aisle. I was really lucky then because Gerdan moved over really quickly to quiet the horse and saw me first. He stood in front of the door, so nobody could see me before I could hide in the corner. I wouldn't make that mistake again; it was scary. And it hurt, too, falling all the way down.
Rivendell didn't seem to want to drop hay on their horses' heads, as there were no holes in the floor. At least none as I could find. What they did have was lots of hay, bundled together with twine and stacked loosely with lots of hiding places in between. It was good hay, too; soft and sweet. Good for sleeping in. And I could see through the floor, too. Lots of wide-set boards formed the floor, and I could peer down into almost all the stalls from up here. It was wonderful. I also discovered the floor rested on the rafters. They were wide, heavy timbers, just right for me to walk across, so I could move from one side of the aisle to the other up here. I could also watch absolutely everything.
I scooted across the wide beam as easily as a branch in my old friend Oak, pausing in the middle to look down at the stable below. I could see everything from this spot -- both sides of the stable, all the way down the aisle to each end, all four doors and both stairs. I sat down, swinging my legs in the open air and grinned at this unexpected fortune.
Yes, I'd always felt safe in stables, and I knew this one would be the best spot in all of Middle-earth. I knocked a bit of dust down as I thumped my legs against my perch, which inspired an irritated snort and a bang from the far end stall. I peered harder through the gloom, only to realize....
Yes...yes it was! Naur was in that box. Oh, this was my chance to talk to him, to make friends with him without some Big Elf pulling me away and telling me something stupid about how scary he was. Horses weren't scary. All horses liked me. All horses were happy to see me. Naur just didn't know me yet. Now was my chance to fix that.
Scrambling to my feet, I headed back across to the loft floor and down the stairs as fast as I dared move. I broke the 'no running' rule again as I pelted back to the big workroom. I'd found some big boxes in the corner early, and now lifted the heavy lid of one. It wasn't easy, and I had to hold it open by letting it rest on the top of my head, but inside were oats. Sweet, clean oats. I reached down to grab handfuls of the grain, but to my disgust the level was so low that all I could do was wave my fingers helplessly several inches above them.
Wriggling out from under the heavy lid, I stood and thought about it. How could I reach the grain? I just had to have some, for Naur. I kicked at the box in annoyance, but the hollow thunk only made me crosser. I kicked the other one as well for good measure, and that box made hardly any noise at all. Did that mean it was fuller than the other box?
I got that one open and found it as stuffed as my father's treasure room. With the lid carefully balanced on top of my head, I pulled my tunic out to make a pouch and filled it with handfuls of cool, slippery oats. Only when the cloth bulged and threatened to spill did I stop. I did remember to smooth the oats in the box mostly flat, so nobody would notice what I'd stolen. Backing out from under the lid, I let it bang as it fell and headed back into the aisle.
My presence in the feed room had not escaped notice. I stopped dead to realize that every horse was staring at me. Every single one. I sighed, as I had wanted to head for Naur right away. Now, I couldn't do that.
"A bite. Just a bite," I warned them, flinching at the sound of my voice in this great and silent place. Zigzaggin my way back to Naur's end of the stable, I held up handfuls of oats to each horse along the way. Some were nice and just nibbled the grain off off my palm. Some snorted at my hand as though it was something wrong and strange. Too bad. No oats for them, for I was in a hurry.
One big bay seemed to have learned that those who paused to question such treats lost them. He grabbed my whole hand in his mouth and scraped the oats off of my fingers with his lips as I yanked back my fingers. I thought he was going to bite my hand right off, but when I looked up at him he was laughing at me. I wiped the horse spit off on my leggings and laughed back. He was funny, and I liked him. I thought he liked me, too. Maybe he just liked oats. I'd find out tomorrow, I promised myself, when I did this again. I'd do this every night, I decided instantly. This was great fun.
Annun accepted her bite with crabby indifference, as though it was too much effort for her to walk all the way to the stall door. She was often grumpy when her belly was fat, so I didn't think she meant it.
Finally, I reached Naur. He stood still in his stall, shining in the gloom, haughty and proud, staring over my head and down the aisle as though he didn't even see me. I'd saved him two handfuls of oats cradled carefully in my tunic, my arm holding the bribe tight against my chest.
"Naur?" I whispered softly. "Naur, I have a treat for you."
He deigned to glance down at me, then flicked his ears back in irritation.
"Look, Naur, I have oats."
I held up one precious handful toward the nose that remained raised over my head. I blinked, surprised. No horse ever ignored me, and no horse EVER ignored oats. He finally looked down at me -- really looked at me and my oats -- and banged his nose hard against my hand, scattering my offering. Then he turned away as though I wasn't there and circled back into the darkness of his stall.
Hurt, I looked down at the few oats still cradled in my tunic. Perhaps he just didn't see me. Maybe if I went inside the stall where I could actually talk to him and touch him, he wouldn't act this way.
Decision made, I clamped my arm over the fold in my tunic, grabbed the latch on the stall with my other hand, and stepped on the cross-brace of his stall door. Climbing in was the best way because I wasn't about to open the door and chance his getting out.
It wasn't hard to climb, only three steps on the cross-braces. I had just reached the top of the tall door and was swinging my leg over the board when I saw him coming toward me -- No, he was lungeing toward me, all angry eyes and lots of teeth.
CHAPTER EIGHT - GLORFINDEL
I couldn't say what had disturbed me, but something had, making me feel that I needed to check the stable. I had these feelings from time to time, and rarely was a trip unwarranted, but all I knew now was a general sense of agitation. That was enough to prompt me to walk the short distance from my cottage to the stable and reassure myself that all was well. A quick look about, a pat to Naur's neck, and a peek at the hugely pregnant Annun would be enough.
Stepping inside the stable, I anticipated peace and instead felt my heart all but stop in my chest, for disaster was playing out before me, and I was too far away to do anything about it.
Young Legolas was in the process of swinging one leg over the top of Naur's stall door, and Naur's hard and glittering eyes caught the light as he turned toward the elfling. I felt myself moving, and my feet carried me down the aisle at top speed, but it wasn't enough, I wasn't nearly fast enough. The white head swung over the stall door, and Naur's ears were pinned flat to his neck, his teeth bared. The Elfling atop the door would be seized, shaken, trampled--
I moved even faster as the wickedly narrow muzzle lunged for the little elf. Legolas saw it coming too and flung himself backward off of the tall stall door, but he wasn't fast enough either. There was a muddle of sound -- the resounding bang as Naur's chest struck the door hard, the sharp cold sound of his teeth closing, the gasp of an Elfling, the tearing of cloth, and a heartbeat later came the thud of Legolas's small body landing on the aisle floor. Reach as I might, I wasn't fast enough to break his fall, no more than I was swift enough to warn the stallion off of the fragile little one.
Legolas hit the ground hard and stayed there. I knew those teeth had closed on him, but the question was where, and how deeply? At least Naur hadn't gotten a solid grip and pulled him into the stall. If that had happened, Legolas would have been dead, trampled beneath the hooves of my stallion before I could have leaped over the door. Clever child, dear child, he'd seen and reacted in that tiny fragment of time, and that move had clearly saved his life. The question now was what was left after the attack?
I dropped to my knees behind Legolas, who was fighting hard to draw air into his lungs. He flinched as I touched him, apparently startled to find me there. I nearly collapsed in relief to see that he still had of all his limbs and seemed relatively whole. I snatched him up from the ground, rough in my fear, and turned him to face me.
"Legolas, are you hurt? How badly did he bite you. Let me see--"
His face was white with shock, but he was still intact with arms and legs where they belonged. I didn't see any blood, and my hands swept down each limb in turn to assure myself of their soundness. Partially reassured, my hands returned to his shoulders as he tried to squirm away from me.
"...Aw-wight," came the faint squeak from my Elfling as air began struggling back into emptied lungs. "Didn't hurt me."
"Your shirt is torn, he did bite you. Let me see."
He tried to reach and close the torn cloth over his shoulder, but was unable to do so due to the tight grip I had around his upper arms. Twisting in my grasp, Legolas struggled against me.
"Didn't hurt me," he protested again, renewing his efforts to win free.
I loosened my grip slightly, nearly limp with relief that he was unharmed. It was then that my fear turned to anger, as it often does after little ones have endangered themselves.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded. "And what were you doing with that horse? You promised me this day that you wouldn't go near him, and I find you atop his door? He could have killed you, Legolas. He *tried* to kill you, and it is only the protection of Elbereth herself that kept him from biting you in two. What were you thinking?"
"I--I--s-s-oorry," came the disjointed apology.
To my horror, I realized that my hands had tightened on his arms once more, and I was actually shaking the poor child in my panicked anger. Legolas wasn't fighting me, but his eyes were huge and fearful in the dim moonlight spilling through the stall windows. I released him instantly, guiltily.
"I'm sorry, Legolas," I whispered, horrified at what I'd done. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. But I thought Naur was going to kill you, and I was frightened. I couldn't bear to lose you, little one. We've only just found you."
His blue eyes were still huge, but not frightened so much as sad.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again in turn, and reached out to pat my arm as he would a distressed horse's neck. "Really sorry. I just wanted to give him some oats." His eyes slowly filled with tears, misery reflected in the shine of unshed tears.
I opened my arms slowly, and then just as carefully pulled the slight body against my chest to hold him close and savor the reassurance of his heart beating, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the very aliveness of him. Legolas rested against me and stood quietly in my embrace, his cheek against my shoulder, his breath warm in my ear. I don't think I had ever experienced a sweeter moment than that one.
I moved one hand to stroke down the tangled gold of his hair and rested my cheek against his head, inadvertently tightening the hug with my other arm. The spell was broken as Legolas stiffened in my arms, and a small squeak of pain escaped him.
Naur had bitten him after all.
I actually had calmed enough to think this time, and rather than snatching Legolas away from me and ripping his tunic open to explore the damage to his small body, I managed to simply unfold my arms and push him gently upright.
"Where does it hurt, Legolas? Is it under here?" I moved my fingers toward the torn cloth, but both his hands flew up to block me, and his fingers clenched in the fabric.
"No. Doesn't hurt. Really."
I didn't believe him. It was a lie, and we both knew it. "Please, let me see. I'll just slide this off ever so carefully and we'll have a look. I won't hurt you."
"NO." The protest was more strident, and the knuckles turned white with the force of his grip.
"Very well. Perhaps you could show me? Just a little bit, where he bit you? Would you just hold the cloth away so I could see under it? I promise I won't touch."
There was a long moment of silent debate, with both arguments clearly reflected in his eyes.
"Please, Legolas? I'm worried he's really hurt you. Please let me see that you're not bleeding horribly, or your arm dangling loose?"
The eyes narrowed, then finally he bobbed his head in a short nod of assent. Very slowly, the small hands held the torn jerkin away from the small shoulder, revealing a crescent of deep blue-grey indentations that trailed off to scrapes up toward Legolas's neck. It was a glancing blow, more of a rake than a clean bite, but still painful. This child was fortunate, unbelievably so. Had Legolas not reacted when he did, Naur would have crushed the narrow shoulder. As it stood, the stallion hadn't even truly broken the skin.
"Naur did bite you. It must hurt. Will you let me put something on it to make it feel better?"
"The burning stuff? NO!" My view of the injury was suddenly blocked by the cloth and both small hands barricading the area.
"Burning stuff?" I echoed, baffled.
"Yes, they put it on and it burns and burns. That's not better."
Clearly this was not going to be successful. I abandoned the debate.
"No, that doesn't sound better at all," I agreed. "No burning stuff. But Legolas, what were you doing out here? You should be tucked safe and warm in your bed."
He looked away, and his breath caught in something that sounded close to tears. "Can't."
"Whyever not? You and Mith have a great warm chamber with a big soft bed and a lovely fireplace in it."
He sighed, then scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand -- the one attached to the uninjured shoulder I noted.
"I can't," he repeated. "The big elves came and they closed the bed. It's Mith's room, and I can't stay in there when Mith is gone."
"Closed the bed?" I repeated. "Come here and tell me about this. This doesn't sound right at all."
He didn't move toward me, but he didn't shy away when I reached for him, either. The tears were close to spilling over. Wrapping my arm around the narrow shoulders, I tucked him against my chest.
"Tell me what happened?" I coaxed.
Legolas shrugged, then winced as the shoulder moved. Then with a tremulous breath, he nodded. "The Big Elves came in the room. I didn't know they were coming, they just came right in and started taking things. They put out the fire, and they took all my clothes and the book that Mith let me keep and...and my special things I was keeping. And then they closed up the bed. Mith was all gone, and I can't stay there without him."
It was difficult for me not to laugh as I recognized the evils of housekeeping. The poor little lad had clearly been quite traumatized by their invasion, benign though it was meant to be. "Your clothes were taken? Where were they?"
"Onna floor in the corner. In *my* corner. They took all of them, too. But they didn't get my boots," he added defiantly.
"Were you in the room when they came?"
Legolas nodded.
"Did you hide?"
He nodded again. I tried to shift my arm around him so that I could peek inside the neck of his tunic again as he spoke.
"What special things did they take?"
"The things for later."
"Later?"
"Later," he repeated, sounding more aggravated than frightened now. "Some bread and apples. I was keeping them for later."
"Where were they?"
"I hid 'em under the bed."
Under the bed. The child was hoarding food against future hunger. Sometime in his past, he had learned that it was necessary. I felt ill. "So why would they take your apples? Were they rotten? Was the bread going green?"
"No. It was hard, but that's alright. The apples were still mostly good, too."
"Mostly good? Did you eat part of them already?"
"Yes, but the other side was still good."
I managed to suppress the dismay I felt, which was trying to creep out. "Little one, we don't need to hide food here. We can have as much as we want to eat, any time we want it."
He blinked at me as though this made no sense to him at all.
"There is more than enough food in Imladris for everyone to eat as much as they want every single day," I explained. "Twice as much as they could want. You need only tell someone you want something. Or go to the kitchens."
Those blue eyes instantly narrowed at that suggestion. Very well, no kitchens.
"You could to me," I added quickly. "There are always fresh apples and cheese at my cottage."
He looked surprised. "Don't you live inside with the Big Elves?"
"No, I have my own little place, just behind the stable. I'm still not used to all of the comings and goings in the hall, and the constant gossi-- the discussions that go on night and day," I amended diplomatically. "So Lord Elrond gave me my own home. It's close to the horses and much more private. Would you like to see it? Perhaps you would like to stay with me tonight, since your bed was closed."
"No."
"Where do you plan to sleep, then?"
His gaze flicked upward for just a second before he focused steadily on his boot tips.
"The loft?" I sounded as incredulous as I felt. "You're planning to sleep in the loft until Mithrandir returns?"
"Not in the loft-- inna RAFTERS. Is good, like a tree," he replied defensively, still staring at his boots. "Nobody would know."
"Is *not* good, and *I* would know," I replied sternly. "Little boys do not sleep in the loft here, and they most certainly do not sleep on high, narrow rafters. They stay in nice warm beds. Please, Legolas, won't you come to my cottage? I, Glorfindel, Defender of the House of the Golden Flower, promise that you will be safe there." Such a declaration had worked before; it might work again?
"No Big Elves will come and take your things," I added for good measure.
His gaze slowly lifted from the tips of his boots. I dared not breathe or press my argument further while he considered.
"Aw-right," came the wary reply. "But just for tonight."
"For tonight," I agreed, hoping he would be reassured once he'd actually spent a night with me.
I resisted the impulse to look back and make sure Legolas was following me. He had agreed to sleep in my chambers for what remained of the night, but the possibility of his changing his mind still remained. Given the least doubt or provocation, he could slip off of the path between the stable and my quarters, melt into the shadows and be lost to me... until daylight at least.
I could track him if he slipped away, but to what end? To shatter the fragile trust we had seemed to build this night? To win one particular battle of knowing where he was, but lose the war by having Legolas fear that he could never evade me, no matter the need?
No. Far better for me to amble nonchalantly down the path toward home--slowing my stride so that little elves would have no difficulty keeping up--and not look back.
Unlike the private chambers in Thranduil's underground keep and my own home in long-destroyed Gondolin, by tradition Imladris's rooms had no doors. Everyone in the main house seemed to know what everyone else was doing--and with whom. The flow of visitors was constant--Elves on their way to take ship at the Grey Havens, mortals come from Gondor or Rohan to trade with the master of the House of Elrond and the fair inhabitants of Imladris.
Upon my arrival in Imladris, I'd soon grown comfortable with the flow of conversation, music and drink in Elrond's fire hall, but I'd also found myself less than comfortable with the constant lack of privacy. When I hadn't been fighting Sauron's minions in my past life, I'd craved solitude and privacy. Their lure was as strong in my new life as they had been in the old one, and so I had sought permission from Lord Elrond to build my own private sanctuary behind the stables.
A high stone wall encircled my small garden and two-room cottage. The wall made way for the trees that had been in residence far longer than had I this second time around. A narrow path flowed past a small fountain that was very much like a larger one I remembered in Gondolin. Replicas of the shield of the House of the Golden Flower graced its sides, reminding me that another elf and balrog had met their ends in the original fountain within the city of my birth. The fountain's center contained a rock cairn where--at my request and once more with Elrond's blessing--water from a nearby stream had been diverted to flow up and over the somewhat morbid recreation of the rock cairn entombing my first body. The sight and the sound of the entire arrangement served to remind me constantly of how fragile life was, and how short our time in Middle-Earth could be. And how quickly it could end.
The cottage beyond the fountain held two small rooms only; a common room wherein I received the occasional visitor--mostly Elrond, and that only rarely--and a bedchamber with a solid oak door that was as private as I could make it. This was my refuge and my sanctuary, as all of Imladris was Lord Elrond's. I needed only this small space in which to retreat, and it was my hope that Legolas might feel safe enough to sleep within its walls.
Pushing back the front door, I entered the common room and turned to await Legolas's arrival. Moonlight spilled across the threshold, but no elf-child appeared. Had I lost him after all? Cautiously, I moved so that I could see out the open door.
He was there, I noted with some relief, but had stopped to make friends with an old ash tree that bordered the path. Even now, he was patting its broad, gnarly trunk and smiling up into its boughs.
The fountain drew him next. Climbing up onto its wall, Legolas knelt and peered down into the water. Making a small sound of dissatisfaction, he then bent so far over to touch the water that his butt was up and his balance was nearly lost. Scrambling back on the wall, he tumbled off only to land on his back for the second time this night.
Grimacing at the startled cry of pain Legolas gave as his already injured shoulder was forced to absorb some of the impact, my first impulse was to rush out and try to rescue him from the pain. A hopeless wish, but powerful enough so that I had to force myself not to do so. Rolling onto his good shoulder, Legolas sat up on his knees and panted briefly. Glancing toward the door of the cottage, he seemed to be trying to discern whether I was watching or not. I thought that the shadows hid me enough from his view. In any case, Legolas eventually got to his feet and rubbed briefly at the shoulder before wincing and continuing at a more sedate pace down the path to my front door.
Pausing on the threshold, he caught sight of me hovering in the middle of the room. Not wishing to distress him further, I backed away and leaned up against the door guarding my sleepchamber, was contented to wait for the child's next move. He weaved slightly on his feet, so that I knew fatigue and pain had to be pulling at him. Still, Legolas wasn't ready to succumb to the lure of the sanctuary I offered. Poised there on the threshold, he first searched the room with his gaze.
His expressions were easy to read as he worked out where the best hiding places, bolt holes, and escapes were. [That trunk, there in the corner,] I could almost hear him thinking. [There isn't a fire, so the chimney would do, too... and there's a back door. That's good. There's a window, too.]
My windows were higher than those in the main house, for they were meant to keep out prying eyes, but... [If I moved the chair and reached high, I could probably reach it.] The rest of the furniture, he dismissed. But then, this was the child who used Mithrandir as furniture; Legolas probably didn't need anything else.
Clearly, the boy had been taught basic survival skills or had managed to learn them of a necessity on his own. Neither Elrond nor Mithrandir had furnished me with the specifics of the abuse that had driven the wizard to remove Legolas from Mirkwood, but I knew enough of Thranduil and his drunken fits--not to mention the heavy-handedness of some of his servants--to imagine well what might have actually taken place.
My heart shuddered to realize how often the child must have needed such skills in the past, for him to have perfected them at such an early age. His visual inspection of the room had been as thorough as that of any seasoned warrior moving into an enemy's camp.
He startled me by speaking. "No one comes here?"
"Lord Elrond visits occasionally, and the servants come to clean up as they did in yours and Mithrandir's chamber. But they come only into this room, and they always knock before entering. If I do not answer, they go away."
He considered this information for a long moment before asking, "Where do you sleep?"
"Here." Pushing open the door to the sleepchamber, I moved beyond the bed, to the far wall to give Legolas plenty of room.
He crossed this second threshold more readily, but still paused to survey the room. I knew what he saw: a high, open window set into one wall, flanked on one side by bookcases and on the other side by storage shelves. A small elf could climb the shelving and be gone in seconds--never mind the drop outside was probably eight feet.
[Such visual skills will serve him well all of his days,] I thought. [There's additional potential here, he might make a fine warrior. And if he does not go safely Oversea, Elbereth knows we will need more accomplished warriors before our time here is over.]
The only other things to see in my room were a bed and a somewhat large pile of dirty stable clothes I'd not yet put out for the servants to launder. Giving a decisive nod, Legolas took two steps forward, reached the foot of the bed, and looked up at me.
"It's good."
"Then shall we sleep?" I urged, gesturing to the bed. It looked inviting to me, I hoped it did as well to the little elf.
Scowling, he backed away. "Not there."
Clearly, the bed was out of bounds. I wondered why, knowing that Legolas had no qualms about sleeping with Mithrandir in the same bed. Or in Elrond's library, curled up beneath Mith's beard. So good was Legolas's ability to sneak, most of the time neither Elrond nor I were aware that the little elf had climbed up onto his wizard during the course of our conversation. The first we knew of it was when Mithrandir rose to take his leave and moved away from the table. Small legs were wrapped around the wizard's waist, skinny little arms were wound tightly around his neck. Once, Elrond had moved the long gray hair aside to reveal Legolas fast asleep, his nose buried against Mithrandir's chest. Legolas never stirred at those times, so secure was he in the wizard's embrace.
"Why will you not share a bed with me?" I asked in genuine bewilderment. A scowl was his reply.
"You're a Big Elf."
Big Elves, I knew from our conversation earlier in the stable, were not to be trusted. Even if they did not beat you, they still stole your clothes, your books, and your half-eaten apples. They might even close up the bed with you still in it, and then where would a small elf be?
Looking at things from Legolas's point of view, I had to agree with him: the big elves in his life were not to be trusted. Being within reach in the past had always meant being vulnerable; if one wasn't within reach, one couldn't be hurt. To expect Legolas to sleep close to me was unrealistic in the extreme. I wondered what, exactly, Mithrandir had done in Mirkwood to be set apart from the Big Elves.
"Well, then," I said, "if you will not have my bed, we must make another for you."
Gathering a blanket, I tossed it atop the pile of dirty clothes in the corner nearest the door. Adding one of my smaller pillows to it, I glanced at Legolas who had moved to the side of the bed nearest the window to watch me.
"What do you think?" I asked.
The nest I'd made for him fetched up against the shelving. If Legolas slept there, his back would be against the wall. He'd be able to survey the entire chamber and no one could sneak up on him. He'd be the length of the room away from me, with my feet nearest him as I lay on the bed. Door and window were both easily accessible to him--the first through bolting and the second through climbing.
"Is good," he announced.
Marching over to the nest, he climbed atop it and settled in before removing his boots. This seemed his only concession to preparing for bed. I offered another blanket--folding it in half so that it would not bury my guest--and he took it, spreading it over himself and snuggling down. Whatever silver-blond hair did not spread haphazardly over the pillow was in his face.
"I sleep now." Peering out at me with one blue eye from between the hair, Legolas regarded me with lingering suspicion. "You sleep too."
"I sleep too," I agreed.
Pulling off my own boots, I blew out the candle in its wall sconce, then settled on the bed. Lying still in the darkness, I hoped to be less of a perceived threat by setting my back to Legolas. Listening to his shallow breathing for the next few minutes, I knew that he was far from sleep. Deliberately, I lengthened and deepened my own breathing and was careful not to move.
In time, fatigue conquered Legolas's caution. His breathing grew louder and deeper, a steady, reassuring rhythm to my ears. Secure in the knowledge that Imladris's newest and smallest citizen was safe within my care, I too slept.
