Dust

Chapter Four – Pride of the Summer

Colours ablaze in the evening
The air was still
Down the stormy hill
It's good to be young and daring

Beat the drum
Beat the drum
Like a heartbeat
Lonely and strong
Beat the drum.

Pride of the Summer. C & R MacDonald.



Time was rushing past; if you thought of it as a river then it was now a river in full spate. The ship had a full hull, masts, and elves were laying her decks.

Word had come from Aglarond that Gimli had handed the leadership over to his nephew and would soon leave his Halls, for the last time, to journey to Ithilien. He would, he said, need little space on board for his possessions.

Although they would not sail until after next Midsummer, this one would be the last Midsummer that everyone would be here – by next year some would have already left. Most of the elves had now decided on the course they would take and some had already begun to pack up possessions to return to Eryn Lasgalen. A handful of others had decided that they would return there too – but not for some years. They would stay to nurture the trees and the land a little longer, and take down some of the dwellings in the trees, before leaving.

But most had decided to sail with Legolas. As Galanthir said, one evening, once the decision had been made to leave their forest and follow Legolas to this place, amongst men, then choosing to follow him West, to be amongst the Noldor, was very little worse!

The midsummer drums beat from the moment Legolas lit the bonfire until well after sunrise. Everyone seemed determined to dance as long and as hard as they could, with as many others as they could. Single ellyn seemed to have worked even more ribbons than usual into their hair – surely, Tindómë thought, most had as many as there were ellyth; including both unbound and bound.

As the night went on she gathered her fair share of them although, as was often the case at such celebrations, she spent a little time in a quiet, secluded, spot with Rumil when the dancing and kissing made hertoo hot and bothered.

Haldirin, his mother thought, might be drawn to Legolas’ niece but he was as happily competitive as any other single ellon when it came to getting rid of his ribbons. She commented on this to Rumil when they stood together beside the bonfire.

“It is a shame,” he answered, “that we did not celebrate the passing of the years in this way in Lothlorien. I would have enjoyed it greatly at his age, as well. I would enjoy the sport greatly now if I did not have you, meleth!”

“Orophin totally enjoyed the competition until he and Lithôniel were bound. I can just see the two of you with ongoing wagers from solstice to solstice… or would you have worked as a team?” Tindómë asked him.

“Both, of course!” he smiled. “And Haldir would have been determined to have more ribbons than anyone, and lose them fastest. Whilst being determined to also join with as many ellyth as possible and have each say, at the end of the night, that he was the ellon who had given them most pleasure.”

“You think?” Tindómë queried. “From what you and Orophin have always told me, I can’t really see him with his hair full of ribbons!”

“They would have been plain red silk… and every braid would have been exactly the same thickness. And had either of us beaten him he would first have insisted it was not possible, and sulked. But then he would insist that it was his tutelage that had enabled it to happen, and claim the credit.”

Rumil smiled again, and then added, “It will be good to see him in the West – for him to meet you, our children, and Lithôniel. To know what Orophin and I have done since Helm’s Deep. I hope he does not have to spend long in the Halls of Mandos.”

Tindómë decided she didn’t want to think of the ‘meet the in-laws’ aspect of sailing West just at that moment. She changed the subject.

……………………………..

Legolas felt a little as he did when commanding a patrol or an army. Try to predict the actions of your opponent and make your battle plan accordingly. Except that this was not a battle and she was not exactly an opponent.

The previous midsummer he had asked her to dance, early in the celebrations, and then kissed her politely before offering her a ribbon. Only to have it refused. She had informed him, with a flash of those wide eyes, that it had been a kiss for a child, not an adult elleth, and as such it could not be marked by the giving of a ribbon.

At midwinter she had positioned herself with three ellyth he had already danced with when he accompanied their friend back to them. It had then been impossible not to ask her to dance without insulting her. He had made the kiss more thorough that time – and she had solemnly accepted the ribbon. Solemnly, except for the twinkle in her eye; which had been almost wicked.

Third or fourth dance tonight, he decided, so that it was not the sort of dance that required close body contact for anything more than short periods. Granted, she was of age – but only just. There was one ellon who had personal experience of such circumstances and would be the obvious one to turn to for advice. But Legolas simply could not do it… as the elleth in question was Rumil’s daughter.

……………………………..

Perhaps he should have turned to Rumil – or to Rumil’s wife. Ithilienne’s parents were certainly aware of their daughter’s feelings about Legolas. The evening after the celebration they discussed it over a glass of wine whilst their daughter was out with friends.

“Legolas’ ribbon is not with the others on her mirror – it’s under her pillow. She has it badly, poor thing,” Tindómë said. “But she’ll probably outgrow it, she’s still young.”

“It seems to me that she is as determined about Legolas as you were about me when you came of age…”

“M’kay – I guess she’s not even quite as young as I was… But I had been forced into growing up real fast back on the Hellmouth – and I still thought like a Californian teenager. The Key is much older than that ‘Dawn’ bit of me anyway. But Ithilienne has plenty of time. Do you think she will outgrow it as she gets a little older?”

Rumil paused for a little, before he answered Tindómë’s question. “I thought, when I was less than a yén, that I was so much in love with one elleth – by the time I had lived nearly two yéni it was a different elleth, and by three yéni I realised I was not in love with anyone.

“Although,” he finished, “I knew very quickly just what love is once I met you.”

Tindómë smiled, thinking back to those first days in Minas Tirith and the journey to Lothlorien. “I fell in love with you in a few weeks – and then there was never anyone else. Well, not that touched my fëa…”

Rumil smiled back before saying “Perhaps she is like you – and she will remain on this course without deviation – at least of her fëa…

“I would speak to Legolas as a friend,” he went on. “I know well about the desires of such a determined young elleth – but I do not think he would find it comfortable under these particular circumstances…”

“Uh-huh. I guess he’d squirm if either of us asked him about his intentions towards our daughter, huh? Maybe I will anyway. I mean if she’s just annoying him it’s one thing, but perhaps he feels the way that you did. And if their fëar are going to sing together then they are going to sing together…”

“Ai, meleth, whatever it is, it is what it is.”

……………………………..

It was only a matter of days later that Tindómë got the chance to talk to Legolas about Ithilienne. She found him alone, on his favourite ‘perch’ in the small hall, after a meeting and asked if she could join him.

In answer he passed her a cushion before he spoke.

“Something bothers you, nethig.”

“Mmm…” she said, as she settled herself, “Ithilienne.”

She watched him closely for his reaction. He remained totally impassive; worthy of note in itself.

“Ithilienne?” was all he said.

“Uh-huh. Well, to be honest, it’s not so much that she bothers me as that I’m worried that she’s bothering you…”

No response.

“I mean the way her elfling habit of curling up on you and going to sleep seems to have become a full-blown crush.”

Still no response. And she knew he understood this meaning of ‘crush’ – she had explained it in the past.

She tried again. “I’m worried that you might be embarrassed by her,” she said, and then thought, ‘and that’s another statement that he can simply not respond to! Time to go for the yes/no answer type question and, even though I bet I still don’t get a straight answer, I might at least get a hint!’

“Are you?” she said out loud.

At least he did not prevaricate by asking ‘Am I what?’ for which she was grateful. Perhaps he realised it might have earned him not only a hard stare but a hard poke in the ribs as well.

“No, nethig,” he answered, causing her to lose her personal wager.

She waited.

M’kay. Probably the first time ever that an elf, asked a personal question, had given a straight answer – but in this case a bit of elaboration might have helped.

They sat looking at each other, the silence stretching further and further, and just as Tindómë knew she was either going to giggle or throw her cushion at him, Legolas spoke.

“I have some bread and cheese here, nethig. Would you like some?”

So – apparently he wasn’t embarrassed – and he wasn’t going to say any more on the subject; she could almost feel him thinking ‘So deal!’

……………………………………………………………..



Disclaimer as chapter one.