Part 18

Legolas reached for the sitting room door.

“No, my Lord!” cried Galathil.

Legolas turned in surprise.

“Lady Eowyn is trying on her wedding dress, my Lord.”

“Ah—yes—thank you.” He knocked. “Is it safe for me to come in, melmenya?”

“Just a moment!”

Legolas’ sharp elven hearing caught the soft sounds of rustling fabric, and running feet, then silence; then the door opened, and Melannen smiled up at him. “Gwanur Eowyn and the sewing lady are hiding in the bedchamber,” he said.

…

By the time Eowyn re-emerged—dressed, once more, in her jerkin and boots—Legolas had taken out the gaming board and he and Melannen were setting up the pieces.

Eowyn smiled at the charming scene. “I am going to invite your Father to tea, Lassui,” she said.

…

Thranduil arrived with his ‘bodyguard’ in tow.

Eowyn nodded to Thorkell bogsveigir—standing beside the door, all dark and brooding, with his arms folded across his leather-clad chest—and handed him a glass of nettle tea and a plate of dainty savouries.

“Thank you.”

“Ridiculous!” cried Thranduil.

“Ada!” Legolas inclined his head, indicating with his eyes the child sitting beside him, who had heard and understood every word the Elvenking had spoken.

“Perhaps Melannen would like to see the new gardens,” said Eowyn. “I could ask Hentmirë to take him…”

But the elfling had immediately jumped up, and scooped up Niben and, to everyone’s surprise, was holding out his little hand to Thorkell bogsveigir.

Thranduil sighed. “Yes,” he said, “take the child to the gardens for half an hour.”

The Beorning set down his glass and plate, dusted the crumbs from his fingers and, with only the slightest hesitation, took Melannen’s hand and let the child lead him from the room.

“That man,” said Thranduil, “shrinks from nothing.”

…

“I am not making him the heir to the Woodland Realm, Ada,” said Legolas—and, knowing that Eowyn would not want to hear the truth, he found her hand, and squeezed it gently—“this is just a temporary arrangement, until his parents are found.”

“And who are these parents, I should like to know,” said Thranduil, “that they send their son into the wilderness with nothing but a cloth toy and a piece of parchment to protect him? I am not suggesting that he should not be taken care of—of course he should—but I am cautioning you against showing him so much personal favour. What is to stop these scoundrels pursuing their advantage and demanding compensation from the Lord and Lady who, they will say, having no children of their own, have kidnapped their boy?”

“They are elves, Ada,” said Eowyn, coldly. Their eyes met, and the look that passed between them conveyed an intimate understanding of skulduggery on his part, and a refusal to be intimidated by majesty on hers. “They are not Haradrim, and nor are they Elvenkings!”

“Melmenya!” Legolas clamped a hand to his mouth but was unable to stop his body shaking with laughter. “Ada,” he said, once he had regained his composure, “it is already settled. We rescued Melannen and we will take care of him until his parents are found. He is a fine little boy, a credit to the elves who raised him. I know that they did not abandon him lightly; and I know that they will be too overjoyed at finding him safe to ask for anything more.

“But if anyone should ever question our motives,” he concluded, “we will simply publish the letter.”