"Where is he?" asked Aradan as he approached them slowly, his shrewd eyes anchoring on them both.
"He stays with me, in Dorolén, not half a day's ride from here. I thought it best to keep him away from the crowds my Lord."
"Well done," he said, before bowing to the figure that now joined them. "Prince Handir," he hailed and the two warriors bowed formally. Lainion's eyes lingered on his ex charge, realising that this was Legolas' brother - the thought seemed utterly absurd to him - the news was monumental and he suddenly doubted they could ever pull this off.
"Captain Tirion, Lieutenant Lainion. At ease if you will, this conversation is private. Aradan, seal the doors."
Moments later, the four elves sat around a small round table, fine wine before them, their faces cast in shadows, and where the warrior's worked leather creaked with their movement, Aradan and Handir's robes swished softly as they accommodated themselves in their plush chairs.
Swallowing his first sip of wine, Aradan sat forward, his long fingers stroking his chin as he spoke. "Prince Rinion leaves eight days hence, to the East where he is expected to stay for at least half a cycle. It must be enough," he said seriously, no preamble, no pleasantries, no - curiosity, realised Lainion.
"As for my father, he expects me to leave ten days from now."
"The King was not loath to release you while Prince Rinion is abroad? I admit the thought had crossed my mind," said Tirion.
"Prince Rinion's visit is to the local villages, not the outposts further south. It is not a dangerous mission, indeed it is not a military mission but one of trade. He saw no conflict of interests; it is all set."
"It seems to have been easier than we had foreseen," added Aradan. "And I must admit that makes me wary. The only setback so far has been the Crown Prince's desire to meet the Silvan, and that has been easily set aside for now for said Silvan is, supposedly, still in the South. You did well to keep him away from the city, Lieutenant," he finished with a nod of approval at Lainion.
"However," said Tirion carefully, placing his glass upon the table. "I must report a - surprising - development…"
"Oh?" said Handir with a scowl, sharing a momentary glance at Aradan. "Has something happened?" he prompted.
"Well," said Tirion, "you could say that, my Prince… "
"Come, Tirion, do not leave us in the dark," said Aradan, worry now clearly etched on his wise face as he sat forward, his shrewd eyes searching those of the Captain.
"The Silvan, he, ah, he has a gift…"
"A gift," said Handir flatly, his eyes straying to Aradan once more.
"There is, evidence to suggest that he, eh, has some sort of - green magic - my Lords." His voice had been soft, as if his tone could somehow take away the import of his words.
"Green magic," said Aradan this time, his voice equally monotone.
"My Lords," began Lainion, his eyes seeking and attaining Tirion's permission to continue. "All we know at this time is that this gift has manifested itself for the first time on this mission. It is some sort of - sensitivity - to the trees. He senses danger well before the rest of our warriors, and he seems almost impervious to the wiles of the dark trees in the South."
"That does not sound like sensitivity to me," snorted Handir.
"That is what we thought, my Prince," continued Lainion. "But when he describes it, he says he senses there is some sort of filter, that he does feel it but that something stops him from suffering its consequences…"
"The trees….." said Aradan.
"That is what we think, my Lord. There is nothing certain at this point but it is something you both should be aware of. So far, he cannot control it, and there may be further developments we are, hitherto unaware of."
A deep breath proceeded Aradan's next words. "Alright, now is there anything else that may interfere with our plans?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
"The boy," began Tirion, and Lainion was surprised at the small hint of uncertainty in his usually strong and confident captain. "The boy is extraordinary. He his young and inexperienced in all things and yet he fights as the warriors of old, and there is a quality about him that inspires - love and - loyalty. Our entire patrol expressed their wish to serve with him again, in spite of his rank of novice, and my good Lieutenant Lainion, I believe, shares that wish," he said. There was a question in his words and in his eyes and Lainion stared back at his friend, his strange, slanted eyes glinting in the shadows as only silence followed the Captain's words.
"Well, Lainion. Is this true?" asked Handir, and although his tone had been neutral, his voice seemed to echo around the room unnecessarily loudly.
"Yes, yes it is true. Yet even if you were to demand of me an explanation I could not give it for I cannot explain it myself….
Silence, again.
"Well now," said Aradan, his tone bringing them all back to the present. "Guard Captain Celegon has requested to see you both tomorrow morning, briefing for our upcoming journey."
"Celegon?" asked Tirion, clearly surprised.
"Yes," said Aradan. "He is to lead Prince Handir's caravan."
"But, what about Captain Tirion?" asked Lainion with a scowl. "I had assumed…"
"Then you assumed incorrectly, Lainion. When a member of the royal family travels, it is the Guard Captain to oversee the journey personally."
Tirion looked to the floor and closed his eyes for a moment, and when he looked at Lainion there was an apology in his eyes. "Celegon is Sinda - with a capital S," he said, his tone somewhat dark and sarcastic.
Lainion stared back at Tirion. It was true then, what he had heard. Celeron was the Guard Captain, one of their best warriors and leaders, but those that served under him spoke of his cold demeanour, his cutting manner and often times cruel words. He was respected but feared, obeyed yet not from the heart, but from the mind.
"But he would have known Lord Oropher, he will recognise Legolas…" said Lainion, a note of alarm creeping into his voice.
"We could not avoid it," began Aradan. "It is custom and had I contested that decision I would have raised suspicion. We must work around this. The caravan is large and armour will be worn. We need to keep the boy away from the fore."
"He will need protection, help - someone to make sure he is not discovered before he can be told the truth - little will it matter once both he and the king have been told."
"Idhrenohtar and Ram 'en Ondo…"
"What?" asked Tirion distractedly.
"We must send Idhrenohtar and Ram 'en Ondo as the caravan's novices."
"Can novices be sent on such a mission?" asked Handir.
"Yes, it is not unheard of," said Tirion. "But Celeron will not like it."
"See that it is done," said Aradan.
"Who are Idhrenohtar and Ram 'en Ondo?" asked Handir.
"Lainion smiled. "They, are the company…."
"I have news," said Lainion as he dried his long black hair with a towel, watching Legolas as he prepared the evening meal.
Lainion's flet was simple but efficient, comfortable even, but there was no space left unused, and now he sat at the long table before the hearth which he used for cooking.
The smell made his mouth water and he poked his head over the rim of the earthenware pot that bubbled over the wood fire.
"Rabbit?"
"Aye, with some mushrooms I picked up. You're hungry!" said Legolas with a grin that did nothing to convince Lainion that the boy was calm and in control, as was obviously his intent; indeed it was all to clear he was bursting at the seems for the news Lainion brought from the city.
"Hungry, yes," he smiled back, "almost as much as you for the news I bring," he grinned lopsidedly as he watched the stew ooze out of the ladle and into his bowl, the aromatic steam hitting him full in the face.
"Thyme and rosemary…" said the Avari with relish, his eyes half-closed as he inhaled noisily.
"Aye Lainion!" chuckled Legolas. "You are cruel and I will die if you do not tell me… I can
not fool you."
"Peace, Silvan boy! Come sit and I will tell you. There is good news, and there is - not so good news. Which will you have first?" he asked, before shovelling a spoonful of stew into his watering mouth, unsurprised that Legolas made no move to eat his own dinner.
"Alright. We have a new mission."
"What? Where! When do we leave!" came the frantic questions, but Lainion held up his hand for silence.
"It will surprise you…"
"Out with it!"
"Imladris. We ride to Imladris."
Legolas stared dumbly at Lanion and the lieutenant was not surprised. It did not make much sense to anyone save those that had planned it so.
"Imladris, what - why?" he asked in consternation.
"It may seem strange to you now, but this is an opportunity you should embrace, Legolas. Prince Handir travels there to study under the Noldo councillor Erestor, of whom you may have heard. With him, travels a caravan of twenty warriors. It has been decided that the best novices from their promotion may travel with the caravan, and stay in the land of the Noldo for six months, to study warfare, as a boon for their efforts …"
Legolas sat back and Lainion knew he did not quite know how to take the news. He wondered too, for a moment, if the boy had seen the subterfuge for what it was.
"Six months? But - but are there any orcs there? Spiders? I do not wish to sit idly for so long, surely this is a mission for the home guard, more of a procession almost, than a patrol. I am a fighter, not a ceremonial guard!" he finally shouted, his hands flapping in the air as if he could somehow draw the scene that seemed to play out before him.
"Legolas. There are more than enough foul things that way for the both of us, and in answer to your queries, only the best travel with our royal family. You should be honoured."
"I am, I suppose, but - but six months!"
Lainion laughed then. Still a child, he realised, at least in some things. "Legolas, think. Six months to learn - do you not know who resides there?"
"The Noldor, aye. There will be veteran warriors there, but we have them here too, Lainion. Good warriors I could learn from. You, Tirion, Hûron…"
"But we, do not have him…" said the Avari as he ate his stew, grinning at the question he knew would come.
"Who is he?" asked Legolas, perplexed.
Putting his spoon down, Lainion leaned forward and held Legolas' gaze. "He - is Glorfindel - of Gondolin," this last word he whispered for effect and Legolas' eyes widened in awe."
"You jest, you -"
"I do not jest, boy. Glorfindel of Gondolin is Imladris' general. He will teach you the art of warfare. Does that not change everything?"
"I, I, Lainion, I …" he flapped.
His stuttering was interrupted by scandalous laughter, for Lainion had never seen the boy so impressed. It was entertaining.
"Lainion," said Legolas, visibly attempting to pull himself together. "I will be taught by Glorfindel of Gondolin? The real one, not some other elf…?"
"Yes," said the lieutenant, as if it was obvious. "There is more though…"
The boy sat unceremoniously, raking his hand through his hair and Lainion took pity on him.
"You did not quite understand what I said earlier when I spoke of the wherefore of your inclusion on this journey. You see, I did not say the best novices were to travel with us,I said 'the best novices from their promotion'…would travel. You have been granted the status of warrior, Legolas…"
Legolas' mouth opened as if he would speak, but he closed it once more. "I am a warrior?" he asked flatly, his eyes unblinking.
"A warrior, of His Majesties Woodland Militia, the youngest we have," said Lainion with a proud smile.
Legolas stood slowly. "I am a warrior," he whispered, his eyes misty, green irises glinting in the failing light and Lainion was reminded of the portrait of Oropher he had stood before in Aradan's offices.
"You will take your vows soon enough, there is no rush. For now, you have ten days to prepare for our journey."
"I am a warrior of the Greenwood, and I will be trained by Glorfiindel of Gondolin… wait, our journey?" he asked, whirling round to face Lainion once more.
"Oh yes," he said with a cheeky smile. I managed to get myself reappointed as Prince Handir's personal guard. I would not interrupt your training so soon, Legolas. True we will not be together as such, you will ride with the troop and I at the fore with our Prince, but…"
"Together? But that is wonderful!
"…and, you will be reunited with your Company. Idhrenohtar and Ram en Ondo travel with you, as newly appointed warriors like yourself."
His smile was so radiant and his eyes so full of joyful tears that Lainion stood, he himself unable to stop his own smile from splitting his face almost in two, the welling emotion making it impossible for him to continue eating.
"Thank you," whispered Legolas. "Thank you for this. You have not said it but I know you have made it so, for me. I do not know how I have been so lucky to meet you, nor why I feel I must make you proud of me but I do…"
"'Tis I who should thank you, for with you came this change in my monotonous, aimless existence. You have returned to me my sense of purpose, given my life meaning beyond my own existence. We have much to do together, Legolas, if you would have it."
Legolas stepped forward and clasped the Avari's forearms with his strong hands. "Then you must be a part of my company, for only those I consider my brothers can be a part of it. It is the family I never had…"
"I would be honoured then," smiled Lainion, and then laughed. "You will have to find me one of those fancy names!"
"Fear not, for I already know what I will call you," said Legolas slyly.
"Oh? And what would that be?" asked Lainion with a quirk of his brow.
"You are an elf of few words and great deeds. You speak little but say much… you, are Dimaethor, the Silent Warrior."
Lainion stared back at Legolas blankly, before slowly smiling and nodding. "It is well chosen. I shall be Dimaethor, Dima the Avari!" he proclaimed pompously and Legolas grinned.
"Welcome then, brother of The Company - now we are four."
A week had passed, and Lainion had fallen into the routine of riding into the city in the morning, and then instructing Legolas personally, on the protocol and logistics of the journey ahead. He had told him of Celegon, the Captain General, warned him of the warrior's badly veiled prejudice towards the Silvan. He had instructed him on his uniform and armour, how to care for it and when to use his helmut. He had even given the boy history lessons on the Noldor; not that he had been completely ignorant, but neither was he well-informed. He had spoken of Elrond, of Erestor and Glorfiindel, of Lindir and Melpomaen, of Gildor the Wanderer and the Lord's own twin sons … he had even spoken of Mithrandir, who was often found in the lands of the Bruinen. Lainion had also taught him of men, for they would surely traverse their lands at some point during their stay.
Legolas had been fascinated by it all, and had avidly tucked away the information, but most of all Lainion knew the boy was beside himself with the prospect of meeting Glorfiindel of Gondolin. Lainion had not met him, but Tirion knew the mythical warrior well, and had made a point of telling Lainion that Glorfiindel had been close with Oropher; there would be no fooling him. But then, what would it matter, for by the time they arrived in Imladris, there would be no more secrets …
He thought then, of the conversation that had followed their briefing. It had been long and intense, and Lainion confessed to being somewhat confused at Prince Handir's stance concerning his brother, his Silvan brother. At times he seemed amenable to easing the boy's situation, and at others he seemed to go out of his way to convince them that he did not care. Lainion was not fooled, he did care, but he could not decide whether that care was for good or for bad.
He would soon find out, he scoffed to himself. And then he remembered his own musings, the ones that had been so hotly contested, especially by Aradan, who had been adamant.
Lainion had questioned the necessity of drawing the secret out, had brought up the possibility of telling the boy now, rather than on the road, for where he agreed that the king should be told whilst Legolas was out of his or others' reach, it was not strictly true for the boy. Tirion however, had speculated that the impact of the truth could unhinge him. He may run off, away, or even to his father, confront him; he could ruin his blooming career as a warrior for what erroneous deeds his emotions may cause him to commit. Nay they needed to choose a time in which Legolas would have no choice but to stay where he had been sent, and then rely on his friends to keep him on the straight road, to anchor him to the here and now.
Lainion was still not entirely convinced, but he would not go against the majority. He was a warrior and in that he was wise, but Aradan was shrewder, more able to predict the reaction of others, especially those of the court and its convoluted intrigues. Legolas would be in danger, he had said. Until the time they could ascertain the impact of the appearance of a bastard son to the king, he should stay away, and be as discreet as he possibly could until such time as the Greenwood had digested the information.
Maybe he was right. Who was he to know the minds of Lord Bandorion, or Barathon, of the noble Sindar houses. How far would they go to discredit the Silvan people in favour of their own benefit? Court intrigues were not his strong point and never would be -
Yet every time he looked at the boy, every time he looked at this young elf that would, one day, be his superior, he just wanted to tell him, and then help him accept it, so that he could get on with his life, finally know who he was, his family, and the sad story behind his own existence, not to depress him but to give him closure and set him upon the path towards his destiny.
Three days before their departure, Lainion arrived from the city a little earlier than he normally did, his arms full of bundles and packages.
The Sylvanus Page 17
