Thranduil waited until the heavy door was shut and barred on the other side before pulling a stool along the stone floor and setting it at close as he could to the locked cel. Surrounded on three sides by hewn rock, the side facing out was barred by steel and only a dim light came from a torch on the side he was on.
On the other side, sitting in a corner with his arms behind his head, Oropher opened one eye, looking not at all surprised to see his son. Erestor looked up, having had his head bowed against his drawn up knees, and let out a sigh. “How did you get in here?”
“Between Thaladir and I, we convinced Thingol you should have counsel. I would have been here sooner, but the first plea we made was just to the king, and he would not listen to us. It was actually Luthien who convinced her father there was nothing fair about the way this matter was being handled, thank Eru that he listened. How are you?” asked Thranduil, frowning at the state of the prison his father and mentor were in.
“Cold, but don’t let your mother know that.” Oropher lifted up a plate with the remains of breakfast upon it. “They are feeding us, so worry not about our health. The waste facilities could be a bit nicer, but at least they send in a boy to clean that corner out and add fresh straw every night. They did neglect beds, however, something I intend to bring up to Thingol. Apparently, no one is usually left down here this long,” concluded Oropher sarcastically. He turned to his cellmate. “Any complaints you would like to log, Erestor?”
“Tell Thingol he can do as he wishes to me, but your father is innocent,” began Erestor, but Oropher interrupted him and shook his head.
“They already know I knew you were a Noldo. What I should have said when they asked ‘Is he of Finarfin’s kin?’ was ‘Does he look like a kinslayer?’”
“Oropher, please!” Erestor looked at the closed door with fright, worried though they did not speak loud enough for the sound to pass through.
Thranduil looked back at his father, who wore an expression he recalled seeing when he was young, when he did something highly displeasing. “See here, lad,” Oropher said sternly. “There is no reason for you to keep protecting her. She did horrible things – to you, to other Eldar, to the Valar and Eru himself. One does not take life without cause the way she and her brothers and the rest of them did. If it comes to it, Erestor, I will tell Thingol just how ‘respectable’ his family is. I will not see harm come to you for the sins of Feanor and his followers.”
“Do we know how he found out you weren’t Telerin, Erestor?” questioned Thranduil.
Erestor shook his head. “Someone had to have told him. I don’t know who.”
“I told you bringing Orodreth’s children and that bastard child of Finrod here was poor judgment.” Oropher waited for Erestor’s rebuttle to this or his former argument, but the scribe bowed his head in defeat. “Erestor, I know you meant well,” sighed Oropher, “but the truth is, and this may sound callus, but I don’t so much care what happens to them as I do what happens to you. I look out for my own, for my family, whether they be Telerin or Noldorin, or Sindarin, whatever it is they call themselves on this side of the sea. It is a very small group, but I think of you, and of Thaladir, as I think of my own son,” he said, motioning to Thranduil. “The thought of someone speaking ill against you and not having the courage to announce who they are sickens me. When we are released-“
“If we are released,” mumbled Erestor.
“When, and it is when from now on!” When Erestor did not further object, Oropher continued. “When we are released, the plan we have discussed these last few weeks- I will not take those three with us. Nor will I allow any of them into my realm. I care not what race they are- those who have brought death for no reason but personal gain, whether they were deceived or not, shall have no place in my kingdom.”
Thranduil waved his hand to gain the attention of his father. “Excuse me, please, what realm and kingdom is this that you are talking about?” He wondered if the time spent locked in the dungeon had somehow fevered his father.
“The realm we’re going to found. I shall fill you in later, when we get out.” Oropher tossed a challenging look in Erestor’s direction, in case he would dispute the validity of this claim, but he did not. “Is Legolas walking yet?” Thranduil shook his head. “Good. Tell him he has to wait until I can be around to see it. How is Ilmendin?”
“He is upset that he cannot see you, same as the rest of us I suppose, but without complete understanding of the situation.” Thranduil looked to the door as the key was heard in the lock. “My time has expired,” he said sadly. Quickly, he looked back at the pair in the cel. “What can I do? What should I tell Naneth?”
“Tell her I love her and I shall be home as soon as I am able,” promised Oropher as the guard opened the door and cleared his throat. “And... lie about the conditions down here,” he said. “I don’t want to worry her more than she already is.”
Erestor shook his head when Thranduil looked at him. Nodding, Thranduil stood up and took hold of the nearest steel bar and gave it a squeeze, then walked to the door and stepped back into the watchroom. He waited as the heavy door was pushed back into place, a bolt sliding into the rock of the wall, and finally, the heavy lock snapped shut. As the guard walked back to his post a few feet away, Thranduil came forward and placed his hand upon the door, resting his forehead against it.
- - -
Thranduil barely slept for days as he awaited word regarding the accusations made against his father and Erestor. It was in the early morning hours of his off day that he heard a knock upon the door. Standing up from where he sat staring at painting on the wall that his father had given him, he swiftly answered the door.
“Your father is back home. He does not want you to wake your mother if she is sleeping. He assumed you might still be awake.” Thaladir kept his voice low.
“And Erestor? Where is he?” Thranduil grabbed a shirt he had discarded earlier from the floor and tugged it over his head. “Is he alright?”
“He’s there, too,” explained Thaladir as they left and walked swiftly down the hallway. “I managed to convince Thingol – actually, I convinced Melian, and she spoke to Thingol. Regardless, your father and Erestor are under house arrest, in my custody, until their trial.” Thranduil’s shoulders sagged, and Thaladir gave him an awkward but somewhat reassuring pat on the shoulder. “They still have to answer for the charges, although neither has denied them. I do not know what Thingol plans to do; I do not think he actually wants to impose a sentence upon either of them.”
“He could simply accept that although Erestor has no chance of being related to him, that he has done nothing wrong, and in fact has enhanced life here in Doriath for the better.” Arriving at the door, Thranduil made to knock, but Thaladir took hold of the handle and merely entered. The scene was not much different from what was happening in the cel, except that Erestor now had room to pace.
“Oropher, all you need to do is say you didn’t know I was a Noldo until we arrived here, and that you were afraid for your family or something like that, and said nothing. You have a wife, you have a family, you-“ Erestor paused and waited for the door to be closed. “Thranduil, talk some sense into your father.”
“Thranduil, how are my grandsons doing?” questioned Oropher. “Is Legolas walking yet?”
“Not yet.” Thranduil tried to remain casual as he entered the room, but as soon as his father raised an arm to beckon him forward, he took three long strides to the couch and embraced him. “I missed you, Ada. There are so many things I took for granted until now.”
“This is a different world. I am not ashamed to tell you, for the first time in my life I find there are things which I fear.” Oropher patted his son on the back.
The door opened a moment later and Hisré entered, dropping the shawl that was held loosely around her shoulders, crying out in a mix of surprise and happiness. She tried her best to wrap her arms around both her husband and her son at the same time. “I thought I felt you nearer. I haven’t been able to bear it without you.”
Oropher pulled Hisré down into his lap and kissed her once rather sweetly, and again with a hungry passion. “I missed you,” he replied in something of an explanation.
“My, you’ve not done that in years,” smiled Hisré, blushing as she tried to slide from her husband’s lap, but he held her firmly with her arms around her waist.
“Get used to it. I am taking my cue from our son’s philosophical mind.” Oropher winked at Thranduil as the door opened yet again, pushed forward by Ilmendin with both hands. Avisiel cradled Legolas in her arms as she stepped into the room. “He was asking for you,” she said as Thranduil stood up and approached. “He woke the moment you left.”
“A-dadadadadadah,” added Legolas, opening and closing his fist and waving his arm in Thranduil’s direction. Thranduil wrapped his arms around his younger son and took him to the couch. As soon as Legolas saw his grandfather, his tune changed. “M-pah! M-pah!” Small arms flailed in Oropher’s direction.
“Good day to you, little mischief.” With Hisré still upon his lap, Oropher took each of Legolas’ hands in between two of his fingers on each of his own hands and played the ‘You can try to pull me but I’m far too big for you game’ while Legolas made nonsense noises and drooled. Ilmendin marched himself to his father and leaned against one of Thranduil’s legs, wrapping his arms around his knee.
Burying his face against his father’s pants he mumbled something incoherent. “Ilmendin, please speak to us, not to yourself.”
“Is it time for breakfast? I’m hungry,” he complained before burying his face again.
Avisiel began to stand, but Hisré waved a hand and got up instead. “This is my home, and you have done all of the cooking these past weeks. Let me take care of breakfast, please. I may need to fetch a few things- Erestor, can you run and see if the market is open, I don’t have any eggs or milk.”
Erestor began to open his mouth, but Thaladir stepped in before explanations needed to be made. “I shall get what you need. Is there anything more?”
“Butter, and perhaps- well, let me make a list.” Hisré wrote out the items she needed and handed it to Thaladir. On her way into the kitchen, she looped her arm through Erestor’s as he was midpace and pulled him along with her. “Come, you can help me make pancakes.”
“I can’t cook,” began his protest, which was drowned out by Ilmendin’s sudden sobbing.
Passing Legolas to Oropher, Thranduil picked up the older boy and placed him on his lap. “What are you crying about, young ellon?”
“Innas said Grandfather will be made to go away. And Erestor, too.” Ilmendin clung to his father and looked to Oropher. “He says you did bad stuff, but I told him he was lying, and then I hit him and Lady Finduilas made me sit on the time out stool.”
Thranduil looked immediately over to his wife. “Did you know about this?”
Avisiel nodded apologetically. “I didn’t want you to have any more grief than you already did. Finduilas asked me not to send him this week, at least not until things were sorted out.”
“Ilmendin, you cannot hit people just because you don’t like what they say,” said Thranduil as Thaladir reentered and carried two baskets silently to the kitchen.
More tears welled in the boy’s eyes, and he drew his lip down in a pout. “He was being mean. Innas said Erestor was not good. He said he has no right to be here. He said Grandfather was bad, too. But he isn’t. It made me mad.”
“Then you need to tell your teacher.” Thranduil did not want to admit that what he was hearing was making him mad as well. Snuggling Ilmendin to him, he rubbed circles around his son’s back with one hand. “A lot of things have been said that I do not like, things I did not agree with, or things I knew were not true. We just have to think about what we do before we do it, and try to talk about things instead of being violent and hurting others.”
“Oh, bother,” came Erestor’s voice from the other room.
“Whoops. Well... green pancakes will be interesting,” Hisré said.
- - -
“Terribly sorry that we don’t have a table,” apologized Hisré halfway through breakfast. The group was in the sitting room, with the ellyn sitting on the couch and chairs and the ellith on the floor with the children.
“This is much more comfortable, my dear,” countered Oropher. “I may well request we always dine here.”
“Ada,” began Thranduil, thinking it a good time to try to interject, but he was told sharply, “I told you I don’t wish to discuss it now,” effectively silencing Thranduil. Across the room, Erestor was spending more time pushing food around his plate than he was spending actually eating anything.
Thaladir, perhaps sensing the tension, settled his fork to rest on the plate that was in his lap and said as he retrieved his glass from the end table, “Next week is the Queen’s Feast. I convinced Melian that it would be a terrible shame to keep the two of you from it. It was arranged that you shall have leave to attend, if you so choose.”
“That is very kind of her. I think we shall go,” Oropher answered, not giving Erestor a chance to make his own decision about it. “Twelve years now since the last one, would be a pity to miss it.”
Thranduil paused mid-bite of an off-colored pancake to figure out why his father would be thinking the wife of his accuser kind. His attention was quickly drawn to the floor, where a chunk of eggs hit his knees. “Ilmendin, what are you doing?” he asked sternly.
“He doesn’t want to eat, I think he’s T-I-R-E-D,” explained Avisiel, taking hold of Ilmendin’s wrist before he could fling another handful of food across the room. The elfling squirmed and growled and protested, and finally, screamed.
“I’m so sorry,” Avisiel said, trying to get Ilmendin to stand up. “Little one, it is naptime, on your feet, right now,” she demanded, trying to lift him up when he refused to stand. Ilmendin wriggled around and practically flung himself to the floor.
“Ilmendin,” hissed Thranduil, “that is quite enough! Get up, right now!”
Avisiel tried again to pull her son from the ground, his hands fisted in the strands of the rug. She was shadowed by a tall figure a moment later.
“Ilmendin.” The child stopped his wailing at the sound of the foreign voice, and was picked up from the floor as he looked up, and placed upon his feet when they dangled down. “I think you owe your parents an apology for embarrassing them.” Ilmendin stomped on the floor with both feet and growled again. Without blinking an eye, Erestor grabbed the youth’s shoulder, turned him around, and firmly swatted his rear.
Ilmendin’s eyes widened as Erestor repeated himself. “An apology is due your parents.” The lad mumbled something and found himself on the receiving end once more. “A respectful apology, and I do not think I need tell you what that means.”
Clenching his chubby little hands into fists, Ilmendin fought back his tears and said, “I am sorry, nana and ada.”
“Now, a nap for you.” Erestor hoisted Ilmendin up and carried him off to what had once been Thranduil’s room while living with his parents.
As soon as the door closed, the dam broke. “Adar, how could you keep eating through that? He just disciplined my son, and you sat sipping your tea!”
Oropher glanced over at his enraged son. “Thranduil, though I know it is your nature to spare the rod and spoil the child. You too often pamper that boy beyond control. You must give him limits. What you perhaps do not recall in Valinor was that if you were to have misbehaved and I was not around, I would not have thought ill of the ellon who took a switch to your backside if you were deserving of it.”
Thranduil shifted slightly, remembering more than once when such a thing had occurred. “That’s different, though. Ilmendin is my son.”
“I do not see the difference, my child. If anything, you should feel better that it is Erestor. He is like a part of the family- well, as is Thaladir, like part of our small clan. I would think you would want one of them disciplining Ilmendin than some stranger,” reasoned Oropher.
“I don’t spank children,” spoke Thaladir, nearly smirking, as if somehow this were a joke.
“Well... still.” Thranduil looked over to the closed door, to his wife, who was also looking in the direction of the closed door as if she would much rather have dealt with the situation herself, and back again. “Wonder how he would like it,” he muttered, “if someone were to slap him.”
“Thranduil, you make it sound as if he beat your child. He swatted a misbehaving little boy, which, really, you should have done it yourself,” said Oropher, earning a glare from Thranduil. “Second, for every swat you earned from me as a child, Erestor probably got four or five when he was your age. You think your son misbehaves?” Oropher shook his head and rolled his eyes, and never said anything more on what exactly the tall, quiet elf had done in his childhood to earn such gestures.
With the talking having ceased, faint singing could be heard from behind the closed door, followed by giggles and laughter. Thranduil, soon followed by the rest, made their way to the doorway.
“A calf was born, just the other morn, a funny little thing
She opened her eyes, flicked her ears, and then began to sing
Mee mee moo, mee mee moo, mee mee moo
The incredible singing cow
Mee mee moo, mee mee moo, mee mee moo
Incredible, but that’s not all
On the day, before today, another strange new tune
A lamb looked up, started to strut, and continued to croon
Trala baa, trala baa-baa-baa
A marvelous singing sheep
Trala baa, trala baa-baa-baa
Marvelous, but I never get sleep
For a year ago, don’t you know, I thought I mentioned it then
I came out of the house, looked up on the roof, to see a bugle blowing hen
Tootle-toot, tootle-toot, bwach, bwa-gawk!
Peculiar chicken with a horn
Tootle-toot, tootle-toot, bwach, bwa-gawk!
How peculiar to wake in the morn
I should have known, when I built my home, it wasn’t an ordinary place
When I saw the rats, with coats and hats, dancing with poise and grace
Shuffle shuffle, squeek, step, squeek
Amazing rodents who dance
Shuffle shuffle, squeak, step, squeak
They’re amazing even at first glance
It’s a happy group, a merry troop, there’s not a thing we need
But I have my hopes, for a goat, who can write and read.”
When Erestor stepped out of the room, he had to literally step over Oropher, who had laughed himself to the floor. “Shh, you’ll wake him,” was his only comment as he bypassed all of the adults, coming to Legolas, who, left to his own devices in the middle of the sitting room, was on his back gnawing on a green pancake. “Someone is a mess,” stated Erestor of the child who had somehow managed to get syrup into his golden hair.
“Oh, my.” Avisiel gingerly picked Legolas up and carried him to the washroom. As she set about scrubbing the babe clean, the rest of the adults picked up the remnants of breakfast and cleaned up the dishes.
“So, both of you will be staying here, then?” asked Thranduil of Thaladir as they sat down in the freshly cleaned sitting room. Thaladir nodded.
“I believe it is Avisiel’s former room that I will be using and Erestor in yours. It will be odd getting used to the noise,” mused Thaladir. “Serenity is something one gets used to when living alone.”
“Ablahblah-ablahba!” A delighted Legolas emerged from the washroom in the arms of his mother. He was now wearing a long blue shirt and stockings on his feet instead of half of his uneaten meal. Grabbing hold of his mother’s ear, he repeated himself, and then happily announced, “Lhewig! Lhewig! Lhewig!” again and again.
Without a word, Avisiel passed the child to his father and sat as far away as she could, looking quite tired and perhaps in need of a nap herself. Unconsciously, Thranduil yawned.
“You two need some sleep. Why don’t you dears leave the children here with us? Erestor wouldn’t mind watching them, would you, Erestor?” Hisré didn’t give the Noldo a chance to speak. “The two of you, take a nap, rest a little, come over for dinner and you can pick the children up then. I’ll come and get you if we have any problems.”
Thranduil looked a bit apprehensive, but as Erestor stood up and approached, Legolas’ bright eyes fell upon the dark elf and he shouted, “Resser, Resser, Resser!” and gladly allowed himself to be transferred from his father’s arms to Erestor’s.
- - -
“A duck says quack, and a cow goes moo
Hens and roosters cock-a-doodle-doo
Doggies bark and kittens mew
But how does a fish say how do you do?”
Legolas clapped his hands and called out, “Againnow, Againnow, Againnow!”
“No, not again,” whispered Thranduil to his wife as they sat and listened to the thirty-somethingth singing of the same song. Erestor and Legolas were both sitting on the floor as Hisré finished with dinner. Thaladir and Oropher were speaking privately in another room.
Erestor, clearing his throat, shook his head. “No, not again,” he confirmed, having heard Thranduil. “Little one, there must be another song you like.”
Legolas simply stared up at Erestor, waiting anxiously, with his little mouth half open. When the song was not sung again, Legolas reached out and grabbed hold of a hank of Erestor’s hair and slowly pulled the older elf down to his level by his hair. “Againnow,” whispered the elfling to Erestor, who was attempting to free the precious strands from Legolas’ iron grip.
“Erestor, maybe you should try the violin again. Ilmendin isn’t here to object.” Hisré carried out a tray with bowls of chilled, sliced vegetables from the kitchen and set it on a side table. “I shall get it for you, but dinner should be ready soon.”
When Hisré returned, she found Erestor sitting on the floor with his shoulders slumped and a frown on his face. Legolas was teething on one of Erestor’s braids, making it a slobbery mess, while his parents tried their hardest not to laugh. Hisré sighed and shook her head. “I swear, that child will try putting everything he can’t eat into his mouth, but try to feed him, ha!” She handed the instrument and bow to Erestor, who took them as he offered Hisré his thanks.
“Please, please tell me you know a song that doesn’t have sheep or cows or pigs in it,” pleaded Thranduil.
“All my years in Valinor, I was a humble farmer. What do you expect?” Erestor brushed his hair over his shoulder on the side that Legolas was not chewing on and rested the fiddle between his shoulder and chin. “Farmers like simplicity. The land, the animals, that which grows from the ground.”
“So, that would be a ‘no’, would it?” Thranduil practically groaned.
“Well, we know a few other things. Love. Life. Faith. Important stuff.” Erestor tested the bow over the strings, paused to decide what to play, and began an upbeat tune, minding where Legolas was and where his elbow was going. The door down the hall creaked open, and Ilmendin peeked his head out.
Avisiel bent down as soon as Legolas dropped Erestor’s hair, mesmerized by the tune, and scooped her son up, sitting him on her lap. By now, Ilmendin had made it to the edge of the room, but he kept his hands covered over his ears and a foul look on his face.
“I saw the two trees die
Watched fear linger in your eye
It brought me to my knees that day
Bowed my head to cry
Knew not what to do or why
While I knelt upon the ground, I prayed”
During a brief musical interlude, Thranduil beckoned his older son to come and sit beside him. As soon as the child did as he was directed, with head bowed, he was pulled up onto his father’s lap and cuddled.
“Not for what was gone
Or the will to carry on
Nor for the troubled times that were ahead
But for what I had
And without getting mad
Prayed for those who killed my kin instead”
“Dinner!” Hisré brought out a basket of steaming bread, holding it with the edge of her apron as she set it down on the edge of the table with the vegetables. “Cupcake?” she shouted in no general direction.
“Yes, Pudding?” came Oropher’s answer.
Hisré walked in the direction of her husband’s voice. “Dinner, dearest. You, too, Thaladir, dear.”
As soon as everyone was in the sitting room eating goodly portions of beef stew with slices of warm buttered bread, Thranduil asked, “Was that one of your songs?”
“No,” admitted Erestor. “Cirdan wrote that.”
“Ah. That makes sense,” nodded Oropher. “I thought the tune was familiar.” He let a little time and conversation pass before remarking, “You play well, for not having practiced all this time.”
Erestor’s cheeks reddened. “I... really, really meant to stop over and play, but I always seem to be so busy, and-“
“This week should be productive for you, then,” interrupted Oropher. “Since you are stuck here with nothing else to do.”
Looking to be searching for an excuse, Erestor’s gaze wandered to the violin, set gently to lean against a cushion. “Well... ah...ah...”
“Againnow!” shouted Legolas, as if he thought he were helping Erestor remember what he meant to say. “Againnow, Againnow, Againnow, Againnow!”
“Looks as if you’ll have a tutor to keep you in line, too,” smirked Oropher as his grandson mimicked the bowing of a fiddle with his chunk of bread and a stick of carrot.
