Amdirren looked to where Legelion stood carefully decanting a potion into a clear crystal flask. Her son had heeded her teaching well, and his skill in herb-craft had grown these past three years. And so too had he, for she marked also that the hem of his breeches now hung two full inches above his bare ankles; soon she would need to stitch new raiment for him! Glancing at her husband, she silently shared her thought with him, and Gellin smiled in return. Four seasons past they had celebrated the boy's twenty-first year since his begetting, and it gladdened them to see this change in his stature, albeit slight, for both knew that his slow growing had troubled his young heart.[1]
'Cethron,' she called to him, when he was finished with his task. 'Come hither, please.'
Legelion dutifully obeyed and stepped over to join his parents sitting on the mat-strewn floor of their abode; kneeling down upon his heels, he took his mother's hand in both of his and smiled at them.
'Dear one,' she said, 'your father and I have a gift for you.'
His eyes shone with delight, and they could both sense the question rising to his lips ere he uttered the words.
'Wherefore have I earned such a boon unlooked-for?' he asked excitedly.
'Take yourself hence to the stables nigh the Elvenking's Hall,' answered his father, 'and thither shall you find the answer you seek.'
'The stables?' he exclaimed joyfully. 'Whatever awaits me there, you have my deepest gratitude, my beloved parents!'
Thereupon he leapt to his feet, and with a bow towards them both, he sprang swiftly from the doorway of their home-tree and raced light-footed down the carven stairway that led to the forest floor.
* * *
The grass was soft and green beneath his bare feet, and the boughs above bore the bright leaves of Laer. And as he ran his heart sang with the words, 'A pony it must surely be!' For he might have grown somewhat since the year's beginning, but he knew he was yet too small to ride a full-grown steed. And so great was his joy that it was not until he espied the stable-yard that he recalled his banishment therefrom wellnigh ten years before, when he had been discovered sprawled bruised and witless upon the hard ground, after fruitlessly trying to ride one of the great cavalry steeds without the consent or assistance of Rochereth, the stable-master.
And there she stood beside the gate, with arms crossed and an unfriendly look upon her features. The boy faltered then; surely his parents had forewarned her of his coming? Did she still begrudge his old mischief? There was but one way to learn his fate, and he went forth with his young heart aflutter.
'It has been awhile since you have dared come hither to my stables,' she frowned. 'Have you forgotten my last words to you?'
'Nay, Rochereth,' he mumbled, his eyes downcast and his toe tracing a circle in the dust. How could he have?
'Repeat them to me, then!' she demanded.
The boy cleared his throat, which now seemed unnaturally dry. '"Begone!" you said, "Begone from my sacred stable, young imp, lest I command these noble creatures under my care to rend you with hoof and tooth 'til you are naught but a red stain upon the earth!"'
At this she laughed merrily. 'Your memory serves you well,' she said, and reaching out she ignored his timid flinch and pulled him into her embrace!
Legelion was aghast, but then he understood that she had but feigned ill will, and still laughing she said, 'I did not think that I had instilled such great fear in you to keep you from here for wellnigh ten whole years! Do you think you are the first elf-child to have crept into my stable under the moonlight? Your own father I banished three times in all!'
And now the young Green-elf joined in her mirth, for he deemed it a jest worthy of his own brand of mischief.
When their laughter ceased, he asked plainly, ''So it is true then? Am I to receive a pony of my very own?'
'Nay, not a pony, but come and ask the prince.' With her strong hand she gestured towards the forest edge, and there his eyes espied a head of golden-hair gleaming beneath the green-shadowed beeches, and he ran to embrace Legolas.
'Well met, young friend!' he cried. 'Oronnad Veren!'
Legelion flushed, and abashed he said, 'But my begetting day was long ago in Iavas; now it is Laer!'
'Indeed,' smiled the son of Thranduil, 'this gift is perhaps overlate! But know you what else is begat under the red leaves of Iavas?'
The boy shook his head. 'I do not. Horses, mayhap?' he ventured hopefully.
'Nay,' said Rochereth, 'like Elves, my fair beasts are begat in Ethuil. Or like most Elves!' She glanced askance at Legelion, whose Autumn birth was uncommon amongst their kindred.[2]
Legolas laughed. 'No matter,' he said, 'walk with me beneath the whispering trees, and I shall ease your mind.'
Together they crossed a grassy mead and passed beneath the green-laden boughs of the beeches. Then at a place therein where the wood grew thickest, the boy espied a leafy bed upon which lay a mother and her spotted calf. 'Erais!' he breathed.
'But not any deer,' smiled Legolas, 'for these are bred to bear riders.'[3]
'I do not understand your full meaning.' Legelion said, confused.
'Dear friend!' laughed the prince. 'By Firith this small calf will be of height and girth to bear a small Elf. You shall be its rider!'
Legelion was speechless, a rare occurence for him, and the stablemaster joined in Legolas' laughter. Finally the elf-child stammered, 'But why... I mean, how is this so?'
'By Thranduil's command,' answered the son of the Elvenking. Legelion stared him aghast. 'Nay,' he said, reading the boy's thought, 'Your mount will not grow to the same stature of the great stag that bears the King, be not afraid.'
The elf-child sighed in relief, but to his mind it was still unclear. 'But wherefore, then?' he asked.
Legolas shook his golden head. 'I know not the mind of my father,' he replied in earnest. 'Perhaps he is indeed fond of you, for this is a mighty gift.'
The Elvenking fond of him? Legelion pondered the mood of the King of the Woodland Realm over the eight years since their meeting. Oft he had thought that though Thranduil seemed to delight in scorning him and his "rustic" kin, it was perhaps in jest. Could this be true after all? Did Thranduil harbour softer feelings towards the Green-elf boy that were thus far unrevealed?
Yet it seemed strange that he had hidden his thought from his son, and thus Legolas knew not his father's will.
Nevertheless, Legelion now had a new woodland friend who would erelong bear him swiftly along the woodland paths, and his heart was filled with joy. Setting aside his misgivings, he knelt beside the calf and gently cradled its head in his slender arms and sang to it a soft song of welcome, love and trust. Nestled alongside, its mother turned her head to watch and listen, but made no other movement.
'What now,' he asked.
'The calf will stay with its mother until next Ethuil, then it shall be for you to care for.'
'"He",' said Legelion, 'not "it". And his name shall be Gwedal, for he will be fleet of foot and bear me swiftly as the wind that blows down from Ered Mithrin! But how long shall he endure, for I doubt he has the long life of the Elves?'
'You speak truly,' said Rochereth, 'for even with the virtue of the Elves to sustain him, he will live for but thirty turns of the seasons... twice that of his kin in the wilds. And then in those years hence when you are full-grown, he shall sire another calf that shall be your mount thereafter.'
The boy voiced not his lingering doubt that he should be fully grown by that time, but said, 'And his son shall be named Gwedalion in his memory, or if a daughter, then Gwedaliel. For this now is ever his doom and that of his offspring, to bear me with love and pride as I shall love and care for his line ever after!'
The young calf licked then the face of the young Elf, as though to seal this contract between them.
'And thus is our bond pledged with a kiss!' exclaimed Legelion, and he pressed his lips upon the calf's forehead in return.
* * *
[1] "Children of Men might reach their full height while Eldar of the same age were still in body like to mortals of no more than seven years."
- Morgoth's Ring, 'The Laws and Customs Among the Eldar'[2] "As for the begetting and bearing of children: a year passes between the begetting and the birth of an elf-child, so that the days of both are the same or nearly so, and it is the day of begetting that is remembered year by year. For the most part these days come in the Spring."
- Morgoth's Ring, 'The Laws and Customs Among the Eldar'[3] While Elven elk mounts aren't at all lore-friendly, after seeing Thranduil atop his Irish Elk in Peter Jackson's The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, and the availability of "elks" as mounts in LotRO, I couldn't resist!
It should be noted that this tale is set in the 2985th year of the Third Age, when Legelion was but twenty years of age; also that these anecdotes are not in strict chronological order.
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