Chapter Text
It has been several days since the welcoming feast that Lord Elrond held in honor of my elfling and me in order to introduce us to the influential folks of the area, so it has also been several days since the consequential ‘falling out’ between the two of us the next day after some news of his unbecoming behavior accidentally reached my ears during the event. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been, but I was honestly shocked to learn of such a thing, for it has been quite a few years since my lad has managed to get into mischief of any sort, let alone something quite so spectacular as the tale that was finally confessed to me!
It had also been many years since I’ve had call to make use of physical discipline, or chastisement of any sort really, other than very gentle scolding on occasion, but neither of us had forgotten the mechanics of how those things work it seems and ever since, our relationship has begun to return to normal, or what I think of as “new normal”.
In the last years my role in the lad’s life became increasingly more that of caregiver and nurse rather than guardian, supporter, advocate and even judge and disciplinarian on occasion, just as must be the case of any parent or guardian dealing with a chronically ill child. But now things are slowly returning to how they once were, at least as much as they can. I know after so many years of monitoring his health I have become extremely adept at reading him and seeing his needs often before he sees them himself, and I suppose I will always be on guard when it comes to his health, safety and general well being.
Legolas might say that has ever been the case, even before he became so ill, but I don’t believe he yet realizes exactly how closely I have studied his every move, every breath and every mood and emotion in the last years. For instance I easily guessed that something was on his mind since the day he went missing from New Imladris, and even encouraged him to make a confession of whatever it was, though I could not have guessed the details of course. Still I knew something was wrong, where in the past I may not have noticed that anything was amiss at all.
This is something that has happened out of necessity of course, for the child eventually needed constant supervision and seeing potential problems before they occurred is what made it possible to keep him grounded in Middle Earth for so long after he was afflicted. I am unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but whatever the case, that is how it happened and now that my extreme vigilance is no longer needed, I am not sure if it is even possible to control.
Still I do realize I am going to have to let go at least a little bit for we both have need for our own space on occasion and right now is one of those occasions for me, for I have something important that I need to do on my own. We began our sea journey late in Spring and arrived in very early Autumn, which means we are now coming upon a very important time of year-the most important time of year for a dwarf-the Autumnal Equinox, also called Mabon or Durin’s Day. To the sons of Aule, Mabon is more important even than the Winter Solstice, for it is a time for finding balance and for giving thanks for our current blessings and this year more than any other do I feel the need to do both. I have many things to be thankful for, the most important being the recovery of my heart son’s health, and I certainly could do with a search for balance as well, for I am yet unsure how I will fare as the lone dwarf here in elvenhome.
I intend to celebrate on my own, not because I wish to exclude my lad, for I know he would gladly join me. He respects my people and has always taken time to understand the ways of his adopted family and has participated often as dwarf kin and a family member, but things have changed now. Here there is no need to make big public displays over dwarven holidays, for there is no one here who must learn and carry on the traditions. Legolas has need to focus solely on recovering his strength and good health and concentrate on learning the ways of the folk here rather than worrying over keeping alive the traditions of my folk that are meaningless here. If I were to mention it, no doubt he would take that as a sign that I am pining for home and it would bring up once again the question of whether I have given up too much for his sake. It would do him little good to get all in a dither over my happiness when he should be focusing his energy on his own. Besides that I fear that should he be seen taking part in unknown ceremonies and celebrations, he might gain a reputation for being “odd” or “different”. I want the best start for him and I feel that fitting in with the culture here will be the best thing for him, and the sooner the better. I do not wish to hinder him just to satisfy my own selfish desires.
Still I owe it to myself and to my folk to remember the day myself, and to do so a few things must happen. First of all, I need a few items that are not readily available here, like a ceremonial axe embedded with crystal and a small alter to make offerings and burn incense. An altar is easy enough if I can find a suitably large stone, but the axe is a bit harder. Still I could make one easily enough if I could make use of New Imladris’ forge , which is probably doable since Lord Elrond is quite eager to be helpful. I also need to get away from my lad long enough to make use of the forge, and long enough to actually perform the ceremony itself, which right now is something of a trick considering he has been restricted from straying far from my side since the debacle at the Greenwood Inn.
But then since I am the one who imposed the restrictions, I can also retract them, so it should not be so difficult after all. All I need to do is locate Legolas to tell him, which should be an easy task since he is not allowed to stray beyond the gardens for the time being and he is required to check in frequently. All I need to do is wait for him to come and find me.
As it turns out, I do not even have to wait that long, for when I walk out onto the balcony of my temporary quarters, I find myself right across from my my lad! I am a bit startled, for I am on a second floor, and he is not on the balcony with me. Instead he is resting in the upper branches of a tree with his back turned to me and he seems to be quietly talking to someone, most probably the very tree he is currently residing in. I find myself smiling at that as I call out to him.
“Lamb come in now. tis time and more that ye stopped talking to the trees! Ye are not a squirrel ye know ye daft elf.”
He swings around and returns my wave.“I’m coming, Elvellon,” he tells me, eyeing the balcony as if measuring the distance from his perch in the tree. Before he can jump, I heartily object.
“Do not even think about it, Elfling! Get yourself to the ground, then walk around to the door and up the stairs like a civilized person! I wish to talk to ye, but I am not in that much of a hurry!”He laughs and leaps to the ground instead, which is perhaps not quite as bad as leaping to the balcony, while I sit down and light my pipe as I wait for him to arrive.
He must have run the whole way and taken the stairs three at a time, because I have barely taken a puff or two before he joins me on the balcony, looking windblown and rosy cheeked from the sun. As usual I am flooded with relief at seeing him so vibrant and energetic after so long watching him decline, and I wonder if it will ever become an unremarkable sight again. As he flops down beside me on the couch I am sitting on, I cannot stop myself pulling him close to kiss the top of his head. I breathe in his scent noticing that his warm hair smells like a mixture of sunshine, fresh air, sweat and coconut shampoo, which is a common scent used in soaps here so close to the seashore. It is what I now think of as the scent of boy, and it is more pleasant to me than the most costly incense, for I associate it with happiness and good health and the promise of a joyful youth after so many years of service to Middle Earth and then slavery to illness. It is another reminder of how many blessings I have to be thankful for this Mabon season. Of course I do not comment on any of this buy merely observe,
“That was quick, ye must have run the whole way.”
“It is a good day for a run,” he tells me, folding his long legs up under himself to sit crosslegged on the couch.
“Mam would give ye a thick ear for putting your feet on the furniture,” I observe, but he only shrugs and tosses his head.
“It is only outdoor furniture, and she never minded when I did it.”
He emphasizes the word “I” and I have to laugh, for there is no denying that Mam was a changed character when it came do dealing with her grandchildren from when my sister and I were children, and she spoiled my lad scandalously. We both smile at the memory, but then he shakes his head as if to clear his mind of the past.
“Anyway, you wanted to speak to me Elvellon? Have I done something wrong?”
“Nay, not unless ye have something new to confess.” I tease.
“Certainly not!”
“In that case I shall go on as planned. I called ye here to discuss your current restrictions.”
“Oh?”
I have to smile at the hopeful tone, for though he has not complained or argued over it, I know he must be chomping at the bit to be set free.
“It is my opinion that ye have paid the full penalty for your misdeeds and may now return to full freedom of movement,” I explain as a smile splits his face, but before he can get too excited I add, shaking a finger under his nose, “Now mind me, this doesna’ mean ye are free to do whatever ye feel like doing. Lord Elrond’s decrees over your care still stand, which means abstaining from alcohol until he say otherwise and resting in the afternoons if he thinks it is a good idea. I also expect ye to appear for all meals and to clear it with me or with Lord Elrond if ye intend to go beyond the edges of New Imladris. But ye are no longer confined to the house and gardens, and there is no need to check in every hour or so. Ye have done your time gracefully, and I am certain I can trust ye to conduct yourself in a more seemly manner from now on, isn’t it so Lamb?”
“Absolutely!”
“Good lad! Well go on with ye then, if ye’ve a mind to. I need to meet with Lord Elrond to discuss some things, so I will see ye at evening meal. How does that sound?”
“It sounds perfect,” he says as he leaps up and starts off, but then he remembers his manners and turns back to embrace me, saying, “Thank you Gimli.”
And then he is off, and I am left to find Lord Elrond. As it turns out he is more than happy to let me use his forge, or as I find out, one of several forges. The one I am making use of is not far from the stables and is used by the farriers of New Imladris, who evidently are not busy year round since most of the horses here are kept barefoot. Only the ones used for racing or other athletic events are shod, so I have the small forge all to myself this afternoon. I spend a productive couple of hours planning and beginning to shape what I need for my private ceremony. The axe used for the occasion in Aglarond is huge, made of Mithril and encrusted with jewels and crystals, but I do not need anything so elaborate here. Iron will work perfectly well, with one large crystal, that I found among my belongings embedded in the heft will do very well for my purposes. For my own entertainment, I plan to add some decorative carvings, but other than that it will be fairly simple. As I work, I see the stable workers walk past the open door, though I do not really know any of them yet. I have become familiar with the house staff and a few of the elves who work in the nearer gardens, but until now I haven’t had cause to visit the stables.
Mostly no one pays me any notice. Whether this is out of consideration for my privacy or because they are too busy I do not know, but there is one fellow who glances in each time he passes and I wonder if he is having more trouble than the others keeping his curiosity in check, for I know many of the elves here have never seen a dwarf. This particular elf is tall, and slender but muscular, with sun bronzed skin and dark hair pulled back in a plain tail. After the third or fourth time he passes, I notice he slows down as he walks by, but then looks hurriedly away when I glance up and catch his eyes, which are dark brown and thickly lashed. Eventually he hesitates in the doorway as if he would like to say something so I call out a greeting.
“It is a lovely afternoon, friend, is it not?”
He surprises me by jumping a little as if he is startled by the sound of my voice, and then I see the color rise in his face as if he realizes he has been staring.
“That it is, though Adar says it will likely turn off cold after dark,” he answers civilly enough.
“Is that so? And what do you think?”
“Most probably his is right. He usually is.”
As he says this he shrugs, reminding me of my own elfling and I wonder if he too is rather young, for that is a gesture I have rarely seen older elves indulge in. Not only that but his emotions show plainly on his face as if he has not quite learned to show the typical elven serenity. I once believed that elves were all just terminally stoic faced, but after living continually among them for over ten years, I found that was not entirely the case. Once I got to know the elves of Ithilen en Edhil, I could read their expressions much more easily than before Still that was nothing when compared to my lad, who always wears his heart on his sleeve and his feelings in his expression, very like the elf I am talking to now, who cannot seem to keep from looking me up an down as if he can hardly believe his eyes.
“Can I do something for ye, Master…”
I wait for him to supply a name, but he only continues to stare, this time at the half finished weapon in my hand, so I add, “I am afraid I do not know your name, lad.”
“Oh!” He straightens up and bows slightly, “It is Gaearon…just Gaearon, I’m not a master of anything, at least not yet. It is nice to meet you Lord Gimli.”I
have not given him my name, but he explains, “I had heard of your arrival and well…”
I laugh and wave away his explanation.
“I was easy to pick out of the crowd? I dinna blend in too well around here, tis true!”
“I hope I have not offended you, my Lord. It was not my intention.”
“Dinna even give it a thought laddie. It will take more than knowing my name and realizing I don’t look like an elf to offend me! Now what can I do for ye, Master…er Gaearon?”
“Nothing at all,” he tells me. “I only wanted to…” I expect he is about to say he wanted to see what I looked like, but he only flushes and finishes, “watch what you were doing. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” I hold up the iron piece I am working on so he can see. “I am making an axe.”
“Will it be a tool or a weapon?” he asks, leaning in to get a closer look.
“Tis a weapon, but only a decorative one,” I explain, “It is to be ceremonial so I willna hone the blades, but will keep them blunt. I hope not to need battle axes here.”
“But you have wielded them in the past?” he asks, seemingly quite impressed.
“Indeed I have, lad. Many times-too many,” I tell him.
“Do you have a real one?” He asks, “I mean, I have never seen one, and I just thought…”
“I do. I brought it over the sea because it was passed to me from a long line of ancestors, who also used it in battle, and well I suppose I am sentimental about it for that reason and also having been through so much together,” I explain, “I’ll see what I can do about letting ye have a look sometime.”
“Really?”
“I don’t see why not,” I say turning back to my work, “Now then, if ye wish to stay and watch, I’ll have to ask that ye wear eye protection."
I nod my head toward a bin of protective goggles. He gamely dons a pair then moves closer in so he can see what I am doing as I begin to bond the metal with the crystals I have brought with me. He seems fascinated by the work, but he continues to talk at the same time.
“I came from Middle Earth too, you know,” he tells me, “about a thousand years ago.”I
think he may be trying to impress me, but I know well enough that a thousand years is a drop in bucket to most elves.
“Did ye now? How did you find the sea journey?”
“I don’t really recall it,” he admits, proving my theory that he is still quite young, “I was only a few years old at the time. I came with my father.”
Since he does not mention a mother, I can only assume they sailed after her death, but I do not ask. Instead I only tell him he is fortunate not to remember it.
“It was long and tedious,” I explain, “and the incessant rocking was maddening! Could ye hand me those long handled tongs lad?”
He hands them to me and then anticipates my need and next hands me a cross peen hammer. I nod in thanks, and begin pounding out the shape of the handle.
“It must have been difficult,” he says, “for I heard Lord Legolas was very ill when he arrived.”
Before I can form an answer a voice from behind startles us both.
“Gaearon!”
We both swing around to see another stable worker standing in the doorway. He has features similar to young Gaearon’s only this one has lighter hair and a much more serious expression.
“I’ve been looking for you boy! Have you been here making a nuisance of yourself the whole time?”
“Sorry Ada,” Gaearon hurries to remove his goggles, “I was only talking to Lord Gimli. Lord Gimli, this is my father, Master Forodren.”
“A pleasure, Master Forodren,” I say. “I hope I have not kept your son from some duty, but I have been enjoying his company.”
Forodren bows politely.
“I hope he has not been pestering you, my Lord. My son tends to be easily distracted.”
Here he gives his son a hard look and I can almost hear Gaearon swallow nervously.
I hope my young friend is not in too much trouble for I have honestly enjoyed talking with him, so I do my best to help him out.
“Not a bit of it,” I say. “The truth is he has been very helpful to me. In fact if ye can spare him tomorrow for a spell, I could use his help again.”
It is a slight stretch of the truth, but he did do very well in handing me the correct tools those two times. Gaearon dares not smile or speak, but his eyes light up at the suggestion as he offers his father a hopeful look. Master Forodren, however, continues to glare.
“We will see,” is all his father will promise, “Now get on with you! That straw won’t spread itself!”
Gaearon wastes no time in scrambling off, though he walks a wide circle around his father I notice. Still he seems pleased with the outcome of the situation, for he flashes a wide smile at me before disappearing behind the door.
“I am glad to have met you, Lord Gimli,” Forodren says, and for a brief moment his lips twitch into a smile as well, and I think he may not be quite so stern as he appears at first.
I put my things away and make my way back to the main house and find myself whistling to myself as I do so. It has been an interesting day, and I am curious to see how things turn out tomorrow.