Back in their room, Elrohir sank into one of the
fireside chairs
with a sigh, feeling desperately weary. He closed his eyes
briefly,
then opened them again to glare at Elladan. “Say nothing,” he
warned.
Elladan spread his hands defensively. “I was
not going to!” he
protested. “I was not going to query the wisdom of venturing to
the
stables. I was not going to mention that you were only allowed
out of
bed for the first time yesterday, or that the meal last night was the
first time you had eaten in days. I was not going to say –”
“Good!” Elrohir interrupted sharply.
“Continue not to
say it. I know. I know.”
He leaned back, propping his feet on a low stool. “I needed to do
something, El. To get out; to feel alive again. I just feel
so helpless like this!”
“I know you do,” Elladan replied, more
sympathetically. “You
are not a good patient, Elrohir. I remember when I have been in
your
position; how I hated it – and how you berated me for not heeding good
advice,” he added caustically.
Elrohir sighed. “Am I really that bad?”
he asked.
“I seem to
have put the fear of Eru into one of Calmacil’s apprentices yesterday.”
“Would that be Thalion? I noticed how nervous
he was when he
brought breakfast this morning. Although you were asleep, he
looked at
you as if you were a serpent poised to strike! What
happened?”
Elladan settled himself in the other chair, listening avidly. “It
is
not like you, El, to terrorise younglings like that.”
“I know. I hope I did not get him into trouble
with
Calmacil.”
Elrohir felt he should give his brother a little more
explanation. “He
escorted me to the bathing room, and offered to help me wash – as
if I
were some decrepit wreck!” He watched as Elladan raised one
eyebrow
silently and eloquently. “Oh, shut up, El!” he retorted
inelegantly.
Elladan grinned. “What did you say to him?” he
queried.
“I said nothing; I just looked at him, and he fled
in terror.”
Elrohir felt a little guilty at the memory.
“I am not surprised. You can look horrifyingly
like
Grandmother
at times,” Elladan reminded him with a laugh. “It was foolish to
send
Thalion away though, if you were bathing – I know you were still
feeling faint at times.”
“Father told me the same thing. And I believe
Calmacil may
have
told him that – there is little that escapes his notice. I think
I owe
young Thalion an apology,” he admitted.
They sat in companionable silence for a while.
The fire
crackled softly, and outside trees rustled in the breeze. Elrohir
felt
his eyelids growing heavy, and jerked himself awake, frustrated at his
weariness. “El? Do you want a game of chess? I see
the set over by
the window.”
“Are you sure? You look tired,” Elladan
said
incautiously.
“Exactly - I do not want to sleep all the
time!” Elrohir
snapped. “I think
I am capable of playing chess – it should not be too strenuous; and you
do not need to worry that I will overdo it!” He paused as he
heard the
irritation in his voice. “I need something to keep me
awake. This
will give me something to think about,” he added in more moderate
tones.
Elladan nodded, and rose to move the table closer to
where they
sat. “You will probably beat me again,” he said ruefully.
“You
usually do.”
“Of course I will. You are too impetuous; you
do not think
through your moves. Besides, I am simply better
than you,” Elrohir told him with an air of great
superiority.
Elladan lacked the patience to plan ahead in a game, and
played with
an impulsive recklessness that usually resulted in him losing.
Such
impetuosity in real battle would have quickly led to his death, but
there his brother was focused and disciplined. Elrohir silently
thanked the Valar that matters were not the other way around.
Elladan’s opening moves were fairly predictable; an
attacking
formation aimed at eliminating Elrohir’s opposition. Elrohir
studied
the board with a frown. His head ached, and it was difficult to
concentrate on the intricacies of the game. Then he smiled.
Elladan’s
last rash move had left his tower exposed to Elrohir’s knight. He
moved, and took the piece.
Elrohir looked up in triumph, then frowned in
confusion as
Elladan sighed deeply, and shook his head. “You have not fallen
for
such an obvious trick like that for a very long time, little brother,”
Elladan said sorrowfully. He moved again. “Checkmate,” he
said with
irritating smugness.
Disbelievingly, Elrohir stared at the board.
From out of
nowhere his king was now threatened, and there was nothing he could do
about it. He studied each piece in turn, but still could
not see a
way out. He sighed with frustration. It had been many years
since he
had lost to Elladan – he must be even more tired than he
realised.
“Checkmate,” he agreed in weary defeat. “Well done. I did
not even
see that pitfall.”
“Will you listen to good advice now? You look
terrible,”
Elladan told him with his usual affectionate bluntness.
“Very well. Go away and leave me in peace, and
I will
rest. Go
and tell Gilmith about the race tomorrow.” Elrohir leaned
back in his
chair, closing his eyes. He was warm, and comfortable, and it was
too
much effort to move to the bed. He could hear Elladan moving
quietly
about the room, but gradually all sound faded and he slept.
o-o-o
The next day dawned dull and overcast. Low
cloud hovered
gloomily, and there was a clear threat of rain. It was too late
to
postpone the race, though – word had spread, and a large crowd had
gathered to watch. There was much speculation and ribald comment
about
the outcome, and wagers were being placed on the likely winner,
enthusiastically encouraged by Alfiel.
Elladan led Gilmith and Alagos from the stable,
while Legolas
carried the saddles. He dumped them both onto the ground as
Elladan
inspected them and picked one up. He pushed the other towards
Legolas
with his foot. “This is Gilmith’s. Do you need help to
saddle him?”
he asked demurely.
There was a ripple of laughter from those watching,
but to
Elladan’s surprise Legolas took the saddle and placed it on Gilmith,
adjusting the straps confidently. “I have travelled with the two
of
you for many years,” he reminded Elladan. “I have seen you do
this
often enough – I should know how to do it by now!” he pointed
out.
There was another flurry of betting at this. For the first time
Elladan felt a qualm of unease – perhaps Legolas would not be at such a
disadvantage after all. It never paid to underestimate him.
He watched Legolas carefully as he mounted, smiling
at his
expression of discomfort as he settled into the saddle. One or
two
crude comments were shouted out from the safe anonymity of the crowd,
amid much laughter as they both walked the horses to and fro, each
adjusting to an unfamiliar mount. Elladan found Alagos restless
beneath him – he was Elrohir’s horse through and through, and had never
been ridden by another. He leaned forward and patted the soft
neck.
“Shh. I know I am not Elrohir, but I will have to do for
now.”
Elladan glanced around the clearing, searching for Elrohir.
“Look,
there he is!”
Elrohir stood with their parents beside the post
that marked
both the start and the finishing line, watching them, his face
bright
with laughter. “Legolas, I hope you will still be able to walk by
the
end!” he called. “You look a little uncomfortable!” Alagos
moved
towards him, pushing his nose against Elrohir, still a little indignant
at the thought of his new rider. Elrohir stroked him
absently. “You
will have to put up with Elladan for now, I fear – I am still forbidden
to ride you – but I am sure he will look after you.” He stood
close to
Alagos, and murmured something into his ear, then stepped back quickly.
Alagos snorted, and bucked sharply, twice.
Elladan, taken by
surprise, nearly fell, and flung his arms around Alagos’s neck.
He
glared at Elrohir. “What did you say to him?” he demanded.
Elrohir looked up at Elladan with a grin. “I
told him that you
called him a pitiful bag of bones, that was all. He seems to have
taken offence. Good luck, El – do not let us down! Just
leave all the
thinking to Alagos.”
Elladan scowled at him, and as he
moved away,
kicked Elrohir lightly on the shoulder. Alagos snorted in
disapproval.
Elrond stepped forward and caught his arm.
“Good luck.
Remember the honour of Imladris rides with you!”
“So there is no pressure on me to win, I see.
I will do my
best, Father,” Elladan promised with a grin.
Elrond glanced surreptitiously over his
shoulder. “Do
not tell
your mother, but I have wagered Thranduil a gold piece on the
outcome.
I think she may not approve!” he explained in a low voice.
Elladan grinned again. “Your secret is safe
with me,” he
promised.
The two riders moved to the starting line, and at a
signal from
Thranduil, the race started. The course they had to follow wove
between the trees, sometimes on the forest paths, sometimes off them,
across open ground and through thick undergrowth. Elladan bent
close
over Alagos’s neck, ducking under low branches that could easily sweep
him off. When he could spare any attention to see how Gilmith was
faring, he noticed that Legolas did not seem to have that particular
problem, and recalled the odd affinity his friend seemed to have with
the trees. It was not that he suspected Legolas of deliberately
cheating – he had too much honour – but the trees themselves seemed to
be aiding him. “Wood Elf!” he muttered to himself in disgust.
Alagos swerved sharply sideways, avoiding a muddy
patch, and
Elladan concentrated all his attention on the race. With Gilmith,
he
and the horse moved as one with the ease of long familiarity.
Alagos
felt very different, and sudden movements like that were
unsettling.
They would have to work together to win. At home in
Imladris, he and
Elrohir often raced for the sheer joy of it, and a keen rivalry had
developed between the two horses. Alagos would be just as
determined
to win as Legolas and Gilmith were. “Come on, Alagos – we will do
this
together. For Elrohir,” he urged softly. The horse
found a new turn
of speed from somewhere, and streaked forward.
The mid-point of the course was a venerable oak in
the centre of
a clearing. Two strips of cloth hung from the branches high
overhead –
to reach one, he would have to stand in the stirrups and stretch.
It
would be easy enough, but he wondered how Legolas would manage.
He
stood, reached high, and snatched one of the strips before dropping
back into the saddle as Alagos looped around the tree and started
back. Risking a glance behind, he watched in amazement as the
branch
with the remaining ribbon dipped down towards Legolas as he passed
beneath. He faintly heard Legolas call ‘My thanks!’ to
the tree, and swore softly.
More determined than ever, they streaked along the
path towards
the training grounds. The final stretch was a straight gallop the
length of the field. The route was lined with spectators,
cheering and
shouting. Most of the encouragement was for Legolas, of course,
but he
heard his own name called often enough. As Elladan shot
past
Taniquel, he heard her cheering them both impartially and waved at
her. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention,
and he
glimpsed Legolas gaining steadily as Gilmith strove to move ahead of
Alagos.
The noise was deafening, and he felt a thrill of
excitement.
Although he still hoped desperately that he and Alagos would win – for
his parents, for Imladris, for Elrohir and for himself – it did not
really matter in the end. He had enjoyed the race, and there were
far
more important matters to rejoice over. He leaned forward
over
Alagos’s neck. “Come on Alagos – are you going to let them
win?” he
whispered into his ear.
With a snort of derision, Alagos tossed his head and
made a
final effort. They crossed the line half a length ahead of
Gilmith and
Legolas, to cheers, shouts and tumultuous applause.
Celebrían’s hair
flew around her in a silver cloud as she jumped up and down clapping
her hands, as unrestrained as Arwen would have been. Elrond
clapped
Elrohir on the back and said something that made him laugh and nod.
Elladan swung down from the saddle, and turned to
greet Legolas
first. “Well done,” they said simultaneously, and laughed.
“Congratulations,” Legolas added. “You did well.”
“As you did,” Elladan agreed. “Even if
you did have a
slightly unfair advantage. Wood Elf!”
“Noldor snob!” Legolas retaliated. “I
cannot help it if
the
trees favour me!” He winced slightly. “Though I cannot
fathom how you
endure that saddle. I hope my father never has any desire for
grand-elflings – I fear I may be permanently damaged!” He stepped
back
with a grin.
Elladan was engulfed in an embrace by Elrohir and
his parents
all at once. Their congratulations and praise warmed him.
Then he
turned to watch as Legolas slowly approached Thranduil, walking rather
carefully.
Legolas bowed to his father very formally.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, for besmirching the honour of Lasgalen and
the House of
Oropher. The Noldor used a fiendish torture device known as a
saddle
to defeat me. I throw myself on your mercy.”
“The only loss is a single piece of gold that I
gambled on your
success. I think the treasury can withstand it,” Thranduil
responded
dryly.
Elladan looked around as Elrohir leaned close to
whisper in his
ear. “He is not the only one to rue your win. I think the
good people
of Lasgalen are regretting betting quite so heavily that their prince
would be victorious. Look!” All around them small trinkets
were
changing hands. There were many coins, mostly silver or copper,
but
there was an occasional flash of gold. They both watched in
amazement
as Mireth approached Celebrían and gave her a small silver
brooch.
“Even Mother made a wager!” Elladan exclaimed
in utter
surprise. He watched the crowd. There was no resentment,
but many
congratulations and commiserations voiced, and an air of
festivity. He
turned to Elrohir, who was laughing again at Legolas’s obvious
discomfort. The shadow of pain, fever and exhaustion had all but
gone,
and his eyes danced with mirth. Elladan returned his smile.
“Remember
today, little brother. Today is a good day.”