Chapter Text
The Elvenking greeted the young man with a smile. Estel had just offered the king his service, and the Elvenking, seeming like a friendly sort, hopped up off of his throne and greeted him most affectionately. "Your service would be greatly appreciated," the king smiled. "In fact, there are undone chores as we speak, and we are burning daylight."
Estel's jaw dropped. He could not think of what to say.
"Just follow the stairway there until you get the bottom, and tell the guards you are looking for Legolas. They will know where he is at." With that, he gave the boy another smile, and then a nod, and finally spun him around towards the stairway, and with a pat on the back that included some forward motion, said "Tell Legolas to bring up the good wine, tonight!" he called after the mystified young man. "Something from Dorwinion!"
Following the stairway what seemed like an unbelievable depth, Estel stopped occasionally to admire the stonework and sculptures set along the stairs. There were words written in Dwarvish upon some of the stairways, and Estel realized that long ago, some of the Dwarves from the Lonely Mountain had been here, and some of the unique stonework was theirs. This was very different from Rivendell, and he was curious. The Elvenking had not been what he had expected, either, although his foster father Elrond had warned him that Greenwood was different. To start with, he hadn't expected the formal greeting to be taken at face value as a blank chore list. As he continued downward, he notice the stone changing colors in layers, and admired nature's own. Finally reaching the bottom, he noticed an old elf at a desk. Seldom had he seen elderly elves, but this one had clearly seen too many battles and too many winters. He approached.
"Kindly sir," he said in Elvish, "Could you tell me where I might find Legolas?"
The old elf looked up, clearly drunk despite the early hour. "Eh?"
Wonderful, thought Estel to himself. "Kindly sir, could you please tell me where I might find Legolas?"
"Docks to the right, prisons to the left," the old elf said, his eyes closing.
"But where is he?"
"Down there!" the old elf snapped, pointing towards the river.
"Thank you, sir," Estel said, following the path to the right, and listening to the sounds of rushing water. He looked down another stairway, and saw a young elf, little more than an elfling, talking to a surly old man. Estel descended the stairway, feeling strangely hopeful, with any luck, the youth was who he was looking for, and there might even be fun involved. He approached them cautiously.
"Excuse me," he said, "Are either of you Legolas?"
"I am," smiled the young elf, as the elderly man stomped away, getting the last of some papers. "Who might you be?"
"I am Estel, of Rivendell. I have offered the King my service, and forthwith he sent me down here to you."
The elf smiled broadly, obviously glad to have someone his own age as company. "Are you here to help me?" he asked.
"Yes. The King sent me down here to help you. What do you need help with?"
"I am supposed to unload the barge, and this old man will not help."
"I will help you, and let the old man sit."
The old man looked at them and said sarcastically, "King Thranduil! Always in a hurry, never pays you neither. Just pokes you with his sword and says you're a knight or a lord or something." Then he stomped off and sat down on a crate, saying nothing more. The boys looked at each other and Legolas rolled his eyes, making Estel laugh.
Estel then helped Legolas unload a barge full of heavy crates and boxes, then pulling barrels out of the water, while the elderly man sat on the dock and smoked. "Thank you," the elf said. "For how long are you here?"
"I do not really know," Estel admitted. "Elrond did not specify when I was to return, only that I should not be gone past the autumn. He does not like for his people to travel in the winter, he thinks we ought to be at home." Estel sighed to himself. The sons of Elrond and the other elves of Rivendell had already ridden onward to Lothlorien. He would remain here until their return.
"I would dearly love to travel anywhere," Legolas said. "I have never left home at all."
"You will," Estel said encouragingly. They were almost finished with the crates, and Estel was feeling the effort. The elf was small, with long blond hair and simple gray clothing and no shoes, which left him with very dirty feet, reminding Estel of a Halfling. He wondered if he was giving false hope to this child. Maybe he was an orphan. When the barge was empty, the old man took the signed papers, and pushing his barge back into the river, floated away.
Estel sat down on the dock, and Legolas sat beside him. "Tell me about Rivendell," the young elf asked.
"Of course," Estel answered. He wasn't quite sure what the young elf might be interested in, so he gave him a general description of the place, "It is called the Last Homely House, although that is a humble description, indeed. It lies deep within the woods of a secret valley, with a river running through it. Rivendell is a busy place, open to friends and visitors alike, and Men, Elves, Dwarves, wizards and hobbits, have come there, and some even stranger creatures." He paused, and told the elfling about Elrond, and about how his father had died, which had left his mother, Gilraen, a widow, and so they had gone to live at Rivendell. "My mother is unhappy underneath it all," Estel confided. "I know she misses my father, Arathorn, and her other children who died when orcs destroyed our village, and strives to make herself and me useful. I do what I can to help."
"My mother is gone a lot," Legolas confided. "She is visiting Lothlorien right now, and told me I could not go. She does a lot of Awakenings." Estel looked a bit surprised for a moment, but then he smiled. If she looked like her son, then she probably did do a lot of Awakenings. Nonetheless, it was an odd thing to suddenly say, and Estel wondered if his new companion knew what an Awakening was. Estel decided to let it pass.
"What of your father?"
"He is upstairs," the little elf replied, as though this were a curious question. They sat quietly for a moment, Estel wondering what was going to happen next. Then he remembered the message he was to give Legolas.
"The king told me to tell you to bring up the good wine tonight, something from Dorwinion."
The little elf looked surprised and unhappy. "Oh," he said, "Then we shall have to start now. Those are heavy, and we must carry them all the way up the stairs." Then it was Estel's turn to look unhappy. Of course, he realized, anything that came in on the barges would have to be brought up to the kitchens via the long stairway. Some things might be stored below in the cooler temperatures, but it would have to be brought up before it could be used.
"As Elrond used to tell me when I was very small, it is the task that is never started that takes the longest to finish," Estel told Legolas, and the little elf sighed.
"Oh, all right," he said sadly, getting up. Estel followed him up the stairs from the river, and saw the little elf roll one of the wine barrels out of a locked storeroom, returning the keys to the old elf at the desk, and set it at the bottom of the stairway. He looked over at Estel, and tipped the barrel over on its side, starting to roll and tip it in an odd fashion, so as to walk it up the stairs. Estel rushed over to help him.
"What are you doing?"
"This is the good wine. We have to take it up to the dining halls."
"Oh, no," Estel exclaimed, feeling disheartened, just thinking about all those stairways.
"It will not take so long with both of us," Legolas told him.
"All right, I shall help you," Estel said, wondering why he had been assigned to work with some pitiful little orphan-like child, other than the obvious fact that this boy had more work than he could possibly do himself.
They pushed the heavy barrel up the stairs and then rolled it into the banquet hall, leaving it just inside the entryway, so that the kitchen staff could do as they needed with it. Legolas sat down at the table and put his head down on the table just as the king walked in. Estel wanted to stop the filthy little boy from touching the King's white tablecloth, but it all happened too suddenly.
"Legolas!" The king called.
"Father, I am tired," the boy complained, and Estel stood silent in amazement.
"Then go and dress yourself for dinner, and take Estel with you," the king said. Legolas got up from the table, and the king called after him, "Take Estel's things up to your room, he will be staying with you." Legolas brightened up a bit, and smiled to Estel, who bravely managed a polite acknowledgement. He wondered how long he was going to have to stay here, and how much more work there was to do. After all, the king could not make his son work like this every day, did he? He followed Legolas up the stairs, carrying his simple pack with him.
Up the stairs, down a long corridor, and through an archway, they came to a nondescript door. Legolas opened it, smiling brightly, "This is my room!" Estel smiled and nodded, wondering how he would ever remember which one it was. Upon entry, Estel knew that the only person who ever came in there was Legolas, at least for the last year or so. Blankets, books, candle stubs, interesting rocks, arrows, and dishes were strewn everywhere.
"Where am I going to sleep?" Estel wondered aloud.
"You can pick a spot," the elf suggested helpfully.
Estel looked around, kicking a trail to the bed, and then to the closet. Legolas simply jumped onto the bed from the door, and then sat there smiling. There was barely enough room on the messy bed for one child, let alone two. Besides, Estel did not want to sleep in the elf boy's blanket fort. What he really missed was the open space of his bedroom in Rivendell, and the windows that opened to the world. Underground was strange to him, and to most elves, this place was unique, he thought to himself, trying to shine a positive light on it all. He sighed, and shoving some of the pile of old boots, books, dishes, candle stubs, a wooden shoe, and to Estel's surprise, an angry cat; he had enough space to place his camping bedroll. Determined to make the best of an unfortunate situation, he combed his hair while Legolas added his gray tunic to the mess on the floor and put on a green one with neat leather ties.
"Ouch!" Estel exclaimed. "Oh, that hurt!" He looked down and saw a finger sized spider scurry away under the bed. "A spider bit me!"
"What color was it?" Legolas asked.
"Gray. It went under your bed!"
"The gray ones cannot kill you; they just sting for a while."
"My foot is swelling up!"
"That will happen until you build up an immunity to them," explained the elf boy, who rolled up his sleeves and leggings to reveal a number of bites. "See? I have lots of them, just try not to scratch."
"Do you sleep in a bed full of spiders?" Estel asked, horrified.
"Of course not," Legolas laughed. "I hunt them with this!" he said, holding up a bizarre looking tool, it was half the length of a spear, with a large, flat end like a gigantic fly swatter, and the other end had a sharp point. "It is a spider swatter!"
"By the gods," Estel mumbled under his breath.
"I hunt the spiders. My cat hunts them too. Why did you throw her out?"
"I am sure she will be back," Estel told him, starting to change his clothes. The elf boy leapt from the bed to the door and went to find his cat. He returned with a large and very pregnant fluffy white cat. Estel was surprised to discover the elf spoke a fluent feline.
"I can talk to the wild cats, too," Legolas informed him. "Everything cats have to say starts with 'I want;' as in 'I want to go outside, I want food, I want you to pet me, I want someone to pick pine needles out of my fur..."
"I think your cat is about to have kittens."
"Yes, she is going to make her cat-nest and it will be so much fun to have little kittens to play with!"
Estel sighed and said, "I suppose so," thinking about the endless meowing.
"We eat dinner first," Legolas told him, "then we help clean up and wash the dishes."
"What?" Estel exclaimed. "When do you relax? Do you have lessons?" he asked, looking at the painful spider bite.
"We will have lessons when Mithrandir comes," the little blonde elf laughed merrily. "And if we go down to the kitchens now, we can eat whatever we want!"
Estel sighed. "Show me what I am to do."
Legolas set his cat down, and went back to the dining halls, and then into the kitchens. Elves were cooking, and gave them whatever they wanted. Legolas and Estel sat down in front of the warm ovens and ate whatever they chose from what would be that night's banquet in the great hall. One of the elves took their dirty plates and told them that tonight was important, and they were to quietly fill glasses and then disappear. After serving drinks half the night, Estel was more than happy to find his bedroll, but Legolas was quite talkative.
"Usually Father tells me a bedtime story, but he is talking to the Lake Men tonight and so we are to put ourselves to bed."
"Done."
"Do you know of the Dreamworld, Estel?"
"Of course," the Numenorean boy laughed.
"Come with me; let us play in the river."
"Meet me by the river under the Silver Tree of the Valar."
"I shall be there!"
"Wake up, boys!" Thranduil said, opening the door. "I have something special planned for today!"
They opened their eyes and crawled out of bed. "Let us go downstairs, and eat before we set out into the forest." Mystified, Estel followed Thranduil and his son. He quickly noticed that they were awake far before anyone else in the palace. The king gave the boys a tasty breakfast and tea, saying, "Pack some with you, we will not be back until nightfall." Taking note, Estel wrapped some of the hardier items in a napkin and stuffed it in his pocket. Thranduil put a nicely wrapped selection into a backpack and put it on his son. "We shall not forget the water and tea!" he added, putting another backpack upon Estel. "Now we are all set!" So saying, they set out together into the forest, Thranduil carrying a quiver of arrows, and three bows. They watched the sunrise over the mountains, and practiced shooting arrows.
Thranduil showed them the different trees, and their cones and seeds. Then he told them that they were going to gather the ones he wanted, and to pile up the ones he did not to be burnt. "No more birch, alder, or schite and cootie trees," the King proclaimed.
Estel burst into laughter. He had heard of birch and alder, but not the last one. "Sir," he asked, "What is a schite and cootie tree?"
"One of these," the King answered, picking a very oddly shaped pod from a nearby tree and said, "Note its unfavorable resemblance to cat spoor?"
"Yes," Estel giggled.
Then the King crumbled it into his hand, and showed the boys the result, which looked like ticks, fruit flies, or some other such vermin. "These are the cooties, and these things get blown in through the front gates, making it appear as if there is cat schite and insect life all over the palace. It will not do for visitors, and especially the Lake Men, to think that! I want all of these things burnt!"
The king started a small fire, and set the boys packs beside the fire, with instructions on everything they were to do, including to return a few hours before sunset.
It was a longer day than Estel had anticipated, spent burning undesired pinecones and salvaging the king's favorites, to be placed into bags, which they were to bring back to the palace at nightfall.
It was a long day in the forest, dragging back the bags of seeds, pinecones, and baby trees that Thranduil had requested, and upon returning to the palace, they ate dinner and were then sent to the kitchens to help wash the dishes and themselves. Estel wondered if the elf boy took baths or if he just splashed water on himself while washing the dishes and considered it two chores done at once. Estel sighed to himself. He had enjoyed his weekly bath in Rivendell, and had not properly appreciated it, he realized. The kitchen staff was not unkind to the children, but they expected obedience, and Estel was not used to it. He was used to helping make the family's dinner, and then to tidy up, but this was a banquet hall. Elrond put more value on time and study, and less emphasis on gold and work.
Sometimes, when the king had a free evening, he would tell the boys a quick story, usually a fractured fairy tale retold from his own humorous vantage point, and they would feature ugly princesses, one-eyed princes, greedy evil dwarves, and dragons that shot fiery gas from both ends.
"The hearts of dwarves are ever eager for treasure, and so the evil dwarf tried to sneak up on the dragon from behind, but the dragon knew he was there, and lifted his tail and turned the evil dwarf to ashes," the king related, as Estel fell asleep laughing. This was definitely something they did not have in Rivendell. "Now for tonight's story...
"The Rat God was the poorest, shabbiest deity of them all. The Rat God would thieve from mortals and immortals alike, to avoid paying for things. He was particularly fond of seeds and shiny trinkets. He could assume many forms; frequently he appeared as a giant rat, sometimes a dirty, scroungy man, at other times just an upright, human sized rat. The Rat God has few worshippers, only the wererats and the rats themselves. Thus, he is ever short of funds and steals like an unwelcome guest."
"What is the Rat God's name?" Legolas asked.
"Pestis Ratus," Thranduil answered, making something up on the spot. "Now, most of the Rat God's worshippers and followers that matter are the wererats, and of course, the human-sized rats. They are particularly numerous around midden heaps and the seashore. In fact, wharf rats can be larger than dogs..."
"What does a wererat look like?" Legolas asked.
"Oh, lanky, greasy, with pointy features and nasty habits; they like to burrow into their trash. They also like to chew on things, preferably things belonging to others." The king leaned back in his chair and continued his story. "The Rat God is quite clever at getting into things; he can undo any knot, pick any lock, and thieve any purse. Sometimes he can even appear as an enjoyable companion, however, the astute observer will quickly note that there is something behind the greasy fingertips rubbing together, and the furtive licking of his lips. The most obvious sign of..."
"Why are his fingertips greasy?" Legolas asked.
"Because he never washes them," the king explained, and then continued his story, "Rats have an agenda all their own, independent of others. Wererats are torn; they are poised between the thinking and responsibility of a man, and the primitive scuffling of the rat. Children, ages ago, before there was anything else, when the worms and reptiles ruled the earth, the very first rats struggled for existence, against massive lizards and worms of terrifying power. They only survived by scurrying through the night when the great lizards slept. The Rat God remembers those times, and that is why the other gods leave him be, burrowing in the trash. Eons it was, until the rising of Elves, and then the Awakening of Men, but rats had colonized every corner of the Earth." The boys were quiet, and rethought most of the stories they had previously heard.
Legolas sat up in bed and asked, "So then is the Rat God the original god of us all?"
"Just between us, yes, everyone you meet is descended from rats, and they will never know it, nor do they care to hear about it, so keep it to yourselves. This fact is even less popular than the stories about how the elves were tortured into orcs, so make sure you never mention this in casual conversation, it makes everyone angry. The ground beneath our feet is incredibly ancient, and before men and elves, or even the humble rat there were other things..." the king stopped talking, realizing he was about to say something that might cause the children to be frightened and stay up all night afraid of the dark rather than encouraging the children to go to sleep, which was his purpose to telling these stories in the first place, so he could return to the Great Hall and watch the dancing girls. Then he was interrupted by a knocking upon the door.
"Thranduil? Your Majesty?" there came a thready voice from behind the door.
"I shall be out in just a moment, you have interrupted story hour," the king answered.
"The Lake Men have run outside with the dancing girls and the dwarves are objecting," the elven voice said. Thranduil stood up.
"Children, this story must continue tomorrow night," he said, leaving the room. They heard him outside, talking with the other voice, and moving down the hallway.
"What other things?" Estel asked the elfling, whom he was certain had heard all these stories before.
"Fish and reptile monsters," Legolas answered, pulling his blankets up around his chin.
"Fish are not very scary," Estel pointed out.
"Father told me some very frightening tales before, of ancient tentacle-gods and the fish-men who worship them in the dark places of the world and in the depths of the sea, and of the aquatic elves who fight them. Those stories made me too afraid to fall asleep, so Father will not tell them anymore."
Estel sighed, but wondered to himself what these creatures might be.
"Estel, let us go to the dreamworld and be birds playing in the air with a piece of bread!" Legolas said.
"Again? I am very tired of being a bird. There must be another way to fly."
"We could be people with wings." The elfling suggested. "That would be fun."
"Yes, it could be," Estel agreed, both pleased to have distracted themselves from ancient amphibious evils and the history of rats.
They pretended many things, adventures both grand and silly, some would have been possible in the real world, and many would not. They could pretend to be wizards or warriors; often their adventures included many heroic episodes the children could not possibly have done in real life, and magic they did not really possess.
Thranduil awoke them the next morning, saying that today they would be working indoors, and that he had a fine breakfast made for them. "Time to plant those trees and pinecones," he smiled.
"We will be planting the trees in his bedroom," Legolas told Estel. "You will like these rooms; they are as if the outdoors were inside."
Indeed, Estel had been impressed. A small portion of the river had been diverted and ran through the royal suite. Rocks and ferns, trees and flowers, even fish were there. The trees had been carefully cultivated and trimmed to remain small, and to grow in the precise fashion desired by the King.
"It is beautiful," Estel told Thranduil and Legolas, as they stepped across the stream on rocks, Estel stopping to admire the pink and white water lilies and the pretty blue and silver long-finned fish. "It reminds me of the gardens of Rivendell, but brought indoors." He looked around at the carved wooden furniture, the stonework and the tapestries, and was inspired. Someday, wherever he would someday live, he was definitely going to have something like this, even if it were only a tended pond beside a woodsman's cot.
"Now listen boys," Thranduil explained, "You will have to work quietly. My wife is sleeping in the next room and will be angry if she is woken up by loudness."
"I can work as silently as the spade and surface will allow," Estel promised him.
"I have faith in you," the king said gladly, "Legolas?"
"Father," the boy said, looking at him in a worried way.
"If she comes through that door," the king explained in a kindly way, "Just bow and leave your tools behind as you turn and leave through that door," he said, pointing at the door they had entered through. "When that happens, you are done working; but that said, do not disturb her on purpose."
"We will not!" Legolas exclaimed, and Estel wondered why.
"Excellent," the king said softly, and handed both boys their shovels. "Just plant the trees around the stream. I love a natural, not a planned look, and letting children choose the location definitely results in a natural look!" the king laughed to himself.
After Thranduil left the boys began planting, putting trees where they found the digging the easiest, and Estel was still in awe of the room's loveliness. He was imagining the sort of place he would like to live in himself someday, with the lady he would someday wed; a wonderful, beautiful woman, and with children of his own, whom he would not work like indentured servants.
"Estel, if we put the vines in the same hole as the trees, we need only dig once," Legolas suggested to him.
"So be it," Estel agreed, wondering what that would look like, but the king had said he wanted a random, natural look, and small boys will do as they would. They dug a few more holes, putting the trees where they thought the roots would be able to reach the water, yet still be out of the stream. Rocks needed to be arranged, and the skylights made them feel like they were out in the forest. Estel was quite enjoying his work when the glass double doors opened.
"What is all that noise?" an elven woman inquired angrily. She was clearly irritated, leaning on the doors. She had reddish-brown hair, the color of autumn leaves, and her eyes were earthy brown. Wearing a light, sage green gown decorated with white and gold leafwork, a circlet of gold rosebuds upon her head, she gazed contemptuously upon the boys.
"My lady," Estel answered, when he realized Legolas was not going to, "The king has ordered us to replant the stream, and we were not trying to disturb you, but..."
"Go away." She told them curtly, and slammed the glass doors. Legolas dropped the shovel he was holding and pulled Estel away from the stream.
"Who was that?" Estel asked.
"That was my father's wife," Legolas answered softly.
"Was that your mother?" Estel asked cautiously.
"No, that was the queen; my mother is Father's lovely friend."
Estel stopped and stared. Greenwood was different; there was not a doubt about that. How different, he had not even begun to appreciate. Since the king had told them that when they were done they could play, the boys went outside to practice shooting their bows.
Presently, it began to rain, and Estel put away his bow and arrows and prepared to return to the palace.
"We do not have to go yet," Legolas exclaimed. "The rain will pass quickly." He picked up his gear and said, "Come with me." Estel sighed and followed Legolas, knowing well what he was going to see. One thing he had never understood about elflings was their sheer delight in hiding under bushes and brush while it rained. Adult elves had mostly outgrown it, and Men liked to come in out of the rain, but this little elfling was squirrelier than most and led Estel to an opening in the blackberry bushes. It was obvious that the child spent a lot of time in here, and had made a rabbit-like abode, complete with a stash of arrows, a flask of water, a bag of nuts, and other miscellaneous objects.
"Is this not fun?" the elfling smiled in delight, enjoying the sweet smell of a summer rain, as the drops pattered on the leaves above.
"Elflings and Halflings love doing this," Estel explained with a sigh. It was not the first time a friend had made him sit outside in the rain, and sometimes the youngest children of Men enjoyed rain forts, but Estel felt too old for such childishness.
"I will build a treehouse next," Legolas continued.
"I would prefer that to crouching in the sticker bushes," Estel admitted.
"Soon there will be berries!"
They then heard the king calling them in the distance, and crawled out of the secret blackberry fort, Estel secretly relieved. He enjoyed the companionship of the elfling, but he was also tired of crawling through the thorny branches to observe roots and blossoms. Nor was he overjoyed with the bees. Legolas continued talking about picking berries as the King approached. Estel dusted the dirt off of his hands and pants.
Thranduil came to them and said, "You children are not to irritate Mirren." He looked at Legolas, "You know better than that, and I expect you to teach your guest our ways."
"I am sorry, but you told us to plant trees by the stream," Estel told the king. "We could not help but make noise, the shovels hit rocks."
"I am not angry at you children," the king said, "And I know how difficult it can be to shovel silently! Yet, Mirren is demanding, and feels that I owe her much. Tomorrow you boys will be out in the forest, and you will camp there overnight, since there will be an earthly display of falling stars. I will join you as I may, and Mithrandir will be with me."
Estel brightened at the thought, as did Legolas. "The wizard is coming?"
"Oh yes," Thranduil laughed. "It has been long since Legolas has been given a new lesson book, and he knows where Estel left off!" the Elvenking laughed.
Indeed, that evening, the Gray Wizard appeared as he had said he would, bringing books and scrolls. The boys' hearts were lifted when the wizard demanded they be excused from constant forestry duties to commence studying.
First, however, was the Night of Falling Stars, sacred to all Elves. In Greenwood, these were the nights spent outdoors in flets, talans, and blankets on the ground where trees did not obstruct the view of the heavens. Stars streaked across the sky, and the Elvenking had the best view of them all, atop his palace over the river, unobstructed by trees. Mirthrandir and Thranduil conferred with one another, seeming not to be enthralled by the beauty overhead at all, they spoke of evil days to come, while the boys enjoyed the novelty of staying up late and viewing what unfolded overhead. The night was spent staring up at the sky, at the beauty of the falling stars, as well as the flowing carpet of colors, the nighttime rainbows called auroras. A night of rare beauty, and when the boys finally found their beds the next morning, Estel fell asleep to dream of walking up the aurora to hold the stars, which to his mind should be hand held.
He walked among the heavens, enjoying the heady sensation he thought must ordinarily belong to the gods themselves. The pink and green bridge beneath his feet leading up somewhere and yet the twinkling stars remained overhead. From the northern portion of the sky came the falling ones and Estel became conscious of the elfling behind him, quietly observing it all, wearing a pair of feathered white wings. "We should have wings, Estel. The auroras vanish quickly, and I do not like dreams of falling."
Wings were entertaining for several nights, until they discovered that they were a slight hindrance to weapon use, and then Estel remembered an old story that included a magic carpet, and their favorite mode of transportation was discovered. The flying carpet could take them as high or as low as they wished, and unlike wings that required constant flapping, they could float in midair and discuss what to do next. When necessary, it was a battle platform.
When they awoke, they were still on the hilltop wrapped in their blankets, the other elves around them either still asleep, or waking at the rising of the sun.
Mirthrandir brought with him a horse's load of books and scrolls, all intended for the boys to study. Thranduil did not believe in wasting time, and anything the boys were doing that was not under the tutelage of the wizard or a chore was wasted time, so they tried to convince the wizard to tell them stories, and the old man could be induced to ramble on. However, the hours of studying were equally long and onerous, and spent entirely under the watchful eye of the wizard.
There were still chores that needed to be done, but Mithrandir's assignments came first. History and war craft, sorcery and Old Elvish lettering, the wizard had an academic agenda. Before he left, he would leave the stack of books and instructions. Legolas enjoyed his lessons, and asked the wizard endless questions about magic. Estel enjoyed reading and learning far more than the endless wood chopping and unloading barges. He briefly wondered who was doing all those chores now. He hoped they were not all backing up, waiting for the boys to return. When the King had a free hour, or even just a few minutes in the evenings, he would tell the boys a tale.