Path, entertainment, crafting
They had reached the Forest Gate at the western end of the path. They would start back to the caverns at a much swifter pace soon enough. For now they settled a short ways back from the gate and shared thoughts. “The path is safe enough for a traveler on foot. There are things that could be done, but it all depends on exactly how welcoming Thranduil intends to be for travelers.” Gilriant mused out loud as he looked over the map they had made notations on. “Which is likely not at all,” Legolas advised in an amused tone.
“Two ways to deal with travelers, either warn them off completely, or make it more attractive to stay on the path than wander off it.” Haldir commented as he moved to Gilriant’s free side. He shared in their study, “If he doesn’t want people wandering off, clearing spots for making camp and fire pits will keep the forest safer. Spacing them a day apart for a traveler on foot would make for plenty.” “Yes but what kind of traveler on foot,” Gilriant pointed out. “The pace of a man is different than the pace of an elf.” He didn’t think pointing out a dwarfs pace may also be different would go well with their intended audience. “Though elves are the ones most likely to be making use of it, they are the ones least likely to need a space set up to camp.”
“Perhaps mostly focus on making sure horses and travelers on foot can make it through safely?” Roitaro suggested in a thoughtful tone. “The path would need to be widened in a few places, if nothing else to make sure travelers stay on it. Not wander off into the woods and cause trouble for us.”
They continued to go over various options until Gilriant picked turns his head to look out the gate, gaze intent. “Light through the trees,” He murmured softly. “Power wrapped in a disingenuous shell.” The rest turned to follow his gaze. “Our expected travelers?” Erecthel inquired as they waited with an alert air. Most were hidden from sight in less than a blink of the eye. Gilriant stayed where he was, flanked by Haldir and Legolas. Anyone with power like what he could pick up on would find him instantly. He’d yet to learn how to mask that completely. Especially with the ways his gifts had been growing.
A cheerful voice and gray clothed figure walking next to an elf quickly came into sight, letting their relaxed postures be relaxation in truth.
Mithrandir walked alongside him as they traveled down the path. “I had the most curious urge to head in this direction. I don’t suppose you know why?” So he would play the mystic traveler route today. If Elrond didn’t tell him he had set off with Gildor in the intent of heading this direction he might have fallen for it. Thankfully Gandalf knew better than to play certain games with him. Still he could at times fish for information in one fashion or another. Easily enough to deal with. “Likely having to do with the Valar deciding you would be helpful to me. Something about Namo needing to share my education with the others.” To the istari’s credit, that only gave him a slight pause before he responded, “Ah, yes that would do it.”
“As I am still young, which compared to everyone that’s going to remain that way, my instruction from them will be occasional.” With Mirthandir being well aware of his dream-walking, that part would not need to be explained. “And I have a greater ability to spend time with you.” Gilriant inclined his head. “Yes, you, and I was advised to possibly seek out Radagast.” Now came the part that may be more difficult for Gandalf. “I did outright refuse to seek out Saruman and I told them why.” A long sigh escaped his friend though his stride did not pause this time. “That is still a concern then?” While the wandering wizard did have an intuition that he used, it was not on the level of the sight that the young elf was burdened with. “It has not changed,” Gilriant replied softly. “I shared all of my concerts with Manwe.”
“Now I am wishing I had gone to the Shire first.” Amused Gilriant offered, “Hedwig can likely help us with a short trip there. I do need to check up on the Boffins sometime.” Haldir, who had been walking ahead of them with Legolas came to a complete stop and turned around. “No pipeweed.” “I hardly see how that would be a problem,” Mithrandir started. “If you want to, fine, but not around Gilriant.” The marchwarden gave his partner a level look. “We have no idea how that would influence your gifts and after the aggressive plants, do you want to risk what might happen?”
“I am in agreement with Haldir, my prince. Perhaps you can try after you have mastered things, but it would be unwise to do so now.” Maethel contributed with a pensive expression. “What is pipeweed and why would it be a concern?” Legolas looked between Mirthrandir and Gilriant with concern. “A dried leaf that the hobbits like to smoke that is recreational in nature as it can alter one’s mood. Typically used to relax.” The young elf explained off-handedly. The older prince had yet to be on one of the trips to the Shire so had not been exposed to its use yet.
“Considering all of the potential properties of pipeweed I am going to have to agree.” A rueful smile in place as Gilriant mentally listed the possible plants. “Really going to have to agree. There are some things we just don’t need and depending on my mood could grow.” “Well now I’m very curious.” Mithrandir took in the looks being pointed in his direction and backed down. “Or not. I’m sure we are fine without them.” Cleaning his throat the istari started to walk again.
“Speaking of being just fine, I must say the Greenwood feels quite welcoming.” The young elf inclined his head. “Just so. I think you will find anyone that is a friend of the Greenwood would feel that way these days. Anyone that is not, will not find a way in at all.” A smile of satisfaction spread on Gilriant’s face. “Your work then? Quite remarkable.” “It needed to be done, there is corruption creeping up from the south. I fear what would happen if I did not do something.” A soft sound of frustration escaped him.
The gray wizard’s visage grew grave at the information. “From the south you say? There was a bit of trouble there years ago but we dealt with it.” “Either it is some remnant infecting the land around it, or it is not as dealt with as you thought.” Gilriant’s response clearly troubled Mithrandir, even as the young elf continued. “I am not skilled enough to confront it directly, and there are some I still need to conceal my presence from.”
“I certainly hope the day does not come when you need to confront it directly. Such things should not be for the youth of our world to fix.” While Gilriant understood the sentiment, it changed little. “Perhaps. I conceded now is the time for me to learn. When my skills are needed in the future, they need to be strong enough. That is to everyone’s benefit.” The young elf shot Mithrandir a look. “And you are not to go charging off and facing it alone my friend. There is just as great a danger if corruption gets a hand on certain things, as it is if it gets me.”
*
Tonight Gilriant was just a part of the audience. Gildor had taken over the night’s entertainment as the visiting musician. While he would at times listen and learn from others, he often brought with him new or variations on songs as well as news. It was a chance for the young elf to join in on the dancing. While typically not as free-form as Imladris could be, these informal nights were fairly close.
Happily the young elf joined in the dancers, pulling Haldir along. He acted as an excellent buffer if some potential suitor became a little too persistent. That and the young elf enjoyed just having these free-spirited moments with his bonded. Legolas when Gilriant first met him was a little hesitant but over time could easily be pulled into the dancing as well. Tonight the older prince was just always there.
Gilriant found himself always between the two blond archers as the night progressed. Moving in orbit with each other with the flow of the music. Not a single elf tried to get between them. There were times in the past that some had tried to get between the younger elf and Haldir. Which involved Gilriant completely and totally telling them off. Not this night. With Legolas intently staying close, it was if no one wanted to intrude. The young elf could just enjoy the entertainment. Enjoy the free spirited fun with two of the people most important to him.
For some odd reason after that night the number of elves attempting to pursue him dropped off dramatically.
*
For some inexplicable reason Tindil had taken to following Legolas around this afternoon. Yes he stopped and gave the deer some attention before he went back to his various tasks. It seemed Tindil was just too restless because it didn’t take long before the deer was back pestering him. The ellon stopped to study the deer. “Right, well lets see if what works for Ada’s elk works for you, shall I?” Ears pricked forward, the deer followed the archer into what served for their stables.
Legolas gathered up a brush he thought would work and moved back outside. He did not know if the deer could shed, but if Tindil did, outside was the best place to deal with any loose fur. “Alright now hold still, I think you will like this. If you don’t, just move away, okay?” Tindil turned his head to watch as Legolas moved to his side and started to gently run a brush over his back. When the deer neither complained or moved away, he started making the strokes more firm.
A contented sound escaped the deer and his eyes half closed. Finally still and relaxed, whatever tension that had been in Tindil evaporated. “Well I suppose it does work then.” With a half smile Legolas continued to brush the deer’s fur. Unlike a real animal there didn’t seem to be any loose fur or dirt to contend with. Perhaps it was the idea behind the action rather than the action itself. Either way it seemed to be working perfectly based on the reaction, so he kept it up. Long smooth strokes along the deer’s back and sides, a little smile in place as he saw how Tindil enjoyed it.
“Ah, well this makes so much sense now.” Legolas looked over at Haldir’s voice, brush held up. “What does?” Clearly amused, the marchwarden stepped closer. “Is there a particular reason you decided to brush Tindil? I’ve never thought to try it with Hallows.” With a frown the prince looked between the deer and the brush. “Should I not have? He seemed rather agitated and would not leave me alone. I thought this might settle him.” Haldir looked like he wanted to laugh, but was refraining from doing so. “You certainly did that.” Which told Legolas absolutely nothing. “I do not understand, is there a problem?”
“You do know that Tindil is part of Gilriant’s magic, just as Hallows is. I have on occasion pet Hallows, because it soothes us both. I try not to do it over-long. Can you venture a guess why?” Taken aback, Legolas tilted his head as he thought about it. As he did so Tindil issued a noise of complaint that the attention stopped. Absentmindedly he ran the brush down the deer’s back again, and the deer made another contented sound. A snort from Haldir drew his attention. It was clear the marchwarden was trying very hard not to laugh. Not much brought him to outright laughter so the question was why.
Suddenly his expression cleared and a flush crept over Legolas’ face. “Oh! Oh no.” Immediately taking a step back from Tindil. “I did not mean to . . “ Haldir nodded, “I know, and he’ll understand. I am not saying you cannot do this again as it seemed to be very effective in calming both of them. Just a little too effective. So you may want to have a conversation with him about it.”
The deer swung his head towards the marchwarden and grumbled a complaint. “I know I am terrible for interrupting your fun. However I think you have had enough for now. I will make sure everything is sorted out.” Heaving a sigh Tindil rubbed his head along Legolas’ arm before wandering off. “Go ahead and put the brush back then I’ll take you to him.” Legolas gave a short nod. “Right.” Taking pity on the other ellon, Haldir followed him.
“If Tindil is agitated, the thing to remember is that Gilriant is agitated in some fashion. Enough so that his magic is seeking you out. It is far better to go find him. Tindil will likely lead you to him if asked. They both can and will understand what you say and often respond to questions in some manner.” “I can understand that,” Legolas started, “I suppose I had considered it because it is not that uncommon for Tindil to seek me out. I give him a little attention and he is content and either wanders back off again or just follows me.” Setting the brush back he turned to follow Haldir as the ellon moved back out of the stable.
“His unconscious mind making sure that you are okay is my theory.” Legolas frowned. “You never asked him?” Haldir shot him a look, “And you did?” Which was an excellent point. More information that the marchwarden was sharing and more things for him to continue. “For me, it was more important to recognize that it was something that he needed but may not be comfortable asking.” Which made sense considering the young elf at times still had difficulty asking for things for himself. “I appreciate you telling me. Anything you think I should know, I am always willing to listen.” The big question on his mind of course was why Tindil kept coming to him. Yet something told him it wasn’t time to directly ask Gilriant about it. Not yet anyways.
*
Artos gave the shrubs in the pots a rather dubious look. “You want to introduce us to plants?” Gilriant gave the skinchanger a friendly smile. “Yes. These plants while not ents do have a measure of intelligence. Enough to recognize friend from foe. I want to make sure if you do go into the wood, they do not attack you or yours. Mostly I’ve been teaching them to attack orcs or other corrupt ones.” The male’s bushy eyebrows went up and then relaxed.
Moving towards the rattling shrubs he examined them without touching. “I have not seen their like before.” They idly snapped a few of their mouths in his direction, but without any real aggression. A good result for all the talks and explanations Gilriant had gone through with them. “It would surprise me if you had, they are something new and their name roughly translates to venomous vine-shrub. You’ll likely hear them before you see them as they rarely stop that rattling noise.” He nodded and slowly reached to touch one of the leaves. The plant reached out with a vine to poke him back. “And are they venomous?”
“Yes, their bites are quite capable of killing a man, and likely an orc or goblin.” Gilriant responded, keeping a close watch as more of the skin-changers came close to inspect them. “They also shoot spines or seedballs that carry the same lethality. Their juice is less so, but it might turn you purple if you drink it.” The skin-changer shot him a look at the last but went back to examining the plant. “They are mostly hostile and aggressive, but I have been teaching these ones that there are some friends they should not attack.”
“Have you been successful at that?” Gilriant smiled slightly, some of the group had perked up when he mentioned them attacking orcs. “They have yet to actually harm an elf, though they have threatened a few. Thankfully they stayed out of their range until they were not deemed a threat.” Another gaze slid his way. “What have they harmed?” Ah good, he hoped they caught that he said that. “Insects, mice and some of the larger ones caught rats. While they are plants, these ones also like to snack on a few things.”
“We do not generally keep carnivorous creatures around us.” There was a faint touch of regret at that. “Yet they are part of the balance of all. Without predators prey creatures can overpopulate and strip an area of resources. Then start dying of starvation. Predators keep this in check.” There was a head tilt in acknowledgement at that. “I will talk with the others, if they are accepting, would you be willing to leave a few of the plants with us?”
This actually was something Gilriant had hoped for. There was a nagging need at the back of his head to help the skin-changers. While a few plants might not be much at the moment, in the long run it was possible they could shift things in the favor of these people. “Yes. I would advise not letting children near them until they are very used to you. I doubt they would be able to kill an adult of your people.” Gilriant flashed a smile, “As you are quite larger than the typical man and likely much stronger as well. I have not met many your size.” A amused look flashed over Artos’ face. “I would be surprised if you met many that could become bears.”
“Yes but I am on the taller side for an elf living here and can turn into a raven. So that doesn’t always correlate.” The skin-changer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, we did notice that. Your abilities seem different than our own.” Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Gilriant continued. “It is a purely magical change, rather than shifting my body.” “That would make it different. Though I know of no elf that can do such magics.”
Amused, Gilriant responded, “Careful, you’ll start sounding like the dwarves. While it is true I am only mostly elf, they are convinced I’m an entirely strange not-elf.” The skin-changer growled. “We are nothing like those greedy creatures.” His expression smoothing out, the young elf challenged. “Oh? Do you not try to protect your own? Store food or other provisions against future need?” Atros frowned, but appeared to be listening. Perhaps he could help ease other things. “Dwarves covet gold because of what it represents as much as its value. Food and other materials can rot. Gold persists and can be used to buy such things. The more gold, the better possible provider. Is that so different?” It wasn’t exactly difficult to figure out why or where the two cultures had clashed. They both had lived in mountainous areas and territory disputes could be understandable.
“I am not asking you to like them. Just recognize that while values and cultures may be different, the reasons behind different ways of life remain the same.”
*
Ting!
Ting!
Ting!
The ringing sound of the forge hammer, the sound of the bellows and the bright dance of the flames somehow just fit into the song the young elf sang. Most that were gathered in the forge couldn’t understand the words but they certainly could feel what he was doing. The threads of power woven in the music being imbued within the blades he was working. Weaving the enchantments into the metal.
Fancy they were not. Simply made, and simply done. The entire focus was on the quality of the blade itself, not on embellishments. Well made and well balanced yes, but for most elves they would be considered far to plain at best. The masters of the forge here could make far better. That was not their true value.
Their true value lay in the power being sung over them and into them. The enchantments that were woven into the very metal as it was folded over and over again. The heat of the fire aided by the red and gold phoenix that helped build it up, or slowly cool it down. For the quenching, a bath of cold water monitored by the glittering white phoenix that stood guard.
The process had started before the sun first kissed the horizon. Forging the metal of the blade from ingots picked with their purpose and final wielder in mind. Folding the mental to strengthen it, and remove potential weak spots. Shaping it, carefully to the form that was desired. Letting it rest into the fires as they gradually cooled until it was safe enough to take to the grinder. Ever so carefully working on the various wheels to make sure the blade was smooth, any excess removed. The fire phoenix singing and building the fire back up until it was ready to reheat the blade. Carefully monitored, carefully watching making sure the heat was evenly distributed until the blade glowed a dull orange. Then quickly quenching it as the ice phoenix sang with them, letting the steam sheath it another layer of power and protection. Back into the heat of the forge it went. Still ever careful to make sure the kiss of fire was hottest where needed. Until the edge glowed the color ripened straw, and the thickest part of the metal a deep purple.
Throughout the process the songs continued to flow from the smith. Songs of strength, of protection, of freedom, of loyalty and strong spirit. Each step the songs and the power layered in. Until to those with the wit to see, it gleamed with the power instilled in it. The obvious light would fade in time. Though it could resonate with both the smith and the wielder’s own power when called upon.
To the side on a workbench sat two previously completed blades. The smiths were allowed to look, but not touch bare handed. That would wait until they were in the hands of the intended recipients. Those blades did not have the reach of the one that was currently being completed. They did help the smith work up to the longer size.
When the blade was finally cool, the smith picked up. Still singing as he finished the final cleaning seated on the bench. The song was a little different here, but still easily absorbed into the bright sword. Carefully cleaned, treated, and the hilt fixed. Only then did the smith finally fall silent, a small smile in place. When a hand was placed on his shoulder Gilriant looked up, “I told you the first decent enough sword I finished would be yours.” “So you did,” Haldir pressed a kiss to the younger elf’s temple.
“I am sure others could make a better blade. Still I hope it serves you well enough. I will not be offended if you do not want to use it.” At Haldir’s chiding look for the self depreciation, Gilriant just smiled. “Go ahead and pick it up. It is ready for you.” As the marchwarden’s hand closed on the hilt, the blade glowed brightly before mostly fading again. “It is now yours and yours alone. It cannot be used against you. There are enchantments to prevent rust, to keep it clean and to keep it sharp and strong.”
“This is beautiful. I will treasure it.” Gilriant smiled at Haldir, pleased. “I will have to upgrade it for you when I can make a better one. It is very, plain.” Here he gave a little sigh. “I focused on making it well.” The marchwarden lifted an eyebrow. “Plain only to those who cannot feel everything you put into it. There are few these days that could use songs the way you do. There are many that would want a blade like this. I plan on carrying this for a very long time indeed.” Picking up the sheath that had been set to the side he placed the sword within it.
Their partnership may be different, but it was very real and very important. Very much the Noldo way to craft for those you loved. While Gilriant could and did play and sing at times for Haldir, it felt good to do this. To make something of his own hands that could aid the marchwarden in staying safe. At least he hoped with all his heart it could.
“Now, time for you to clean up, get something to eat and rest. You have been using songs of power all this time. While good practice for you, it also will tire you out.” Gilriant accepted Haldir’s hand up. Forge work was dirty work after all. So the marchwarden had a solid point on everything he mentioned. If he kept practicing, eventually he might not need to sing constantly. For now he did in order to imbue the most strength into the enchantments.
Haldir paused to scratch Fawkes and then Hedwig in their favorite spots. “Thank you for helping. And keeping an eye on him.” He got cheerful trills back from both birds. “I am capable of looking after myself, you know.” Gilriant complained even as he followed his partner out of the forge. “Highly debatable. Besides, you don’t need to do so all alone, you never will.