Resurrection 25

Resurrection

Part 25

Posted: December 8, 2006
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Thranduil’s training commences and he finds himself distracted by a certain minstrel.

*****

Thranduil sat on a stool with a large harp between his legs. He leaned forward slightly, placing his fingers upon the strings as instructed. He had musical training, but there were no such instruments in Greenwood; his folk only had flutes and small lyres. He tried to concentrate on the instrument, rather than on the softly floral scent of his tutor, and he tentatively began to play.

Lindir was impressed by the dexterity in the prince’s fingers; typically, warriors were not so nimble and did not possess such a sensitive touch. “Very good,” he murmured as he instructed the prince. “Yes, that is correct, very nice. You have been practicing.”

“Some,” Thranduil replied, “when I have had the energy.”

Lindir smiled. “I am sure that Glorfindel is putting you through your paces, yes?”

Thranduil chuckled slightly. “That he is.”

“Who first trained you in music?”

“My mother,” Thranduil answered. “She feels it is important that I have an appreciation for beauty in all its forms.”

“She is correct,” Lindir answered. “A prince must be more than a warrior; you are a diplomat and a leader as well.”

“It is a large responsibility.”

“Aye, but one I am sure you are capable of handling, my liege.”

“Lindir?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Would you call me by my name? I realize that in some settings protocol calls for a formal address, but when it is just you and I, I would feel more comfortable if you would address me by name.”

Lindir reached out and adjusted Thranduil’s finger position. “As you wish, Thranduil.”

Thranduil smiled. “Thank you.”

Lindir smiled in return, thankful that he stood behind the prince and therefore, Thranduil could not see the slight blush upon his cheek.

It had been months since he and Glorfindel separated, and just a month since Thranduil arrived in Imladris. The prince would stay through the winter and into mid-spring, so they still had much time to get to know one another. In addition to being fair, the prince was also kind and patient, he was a diligent student both on and off the training field; Thranduil approached the study of history and music as enthusiastically as that of battle tactics.

Lindir stood up straight and watched the prince play the harp; while Thranduil would never become a master musician, he played well nevertheless. “I think that is enough for today,” he said softly. “You are playing quite well for so short a time with the instrument.”

Thranduil reached for a soft cloth and gently wiped down the harp. “Thank you, Lindir. I doubt you have much to worry about in terms of competition, though.”

Lindir laughed softly as he walked toward his desk and began placing sheets of music in their respective files.

“I am to train with Glorfindel this afternoon, but I was hoping that when I am finished you and I might be able to spend some time together – that is if the idea is appealing to you.”

Lindir looked up from his work. Thranduil was focusing on the act of cleaning the harp in an attempt to make a refusal easier. “I would like that very much,” he replied. “Shall I meet you at the training field?”

Thranduil turned and looked at him. “Yes, that would be a good idea.” He placed the cloth upon a small table near the harp. “I will see you later this afternoon then? Two hours prior to the dinner bell?”

Lindir nodded. “Very well.”

Thranduil smiled as he left the music room, and Lindir watched him leave with a smile upon his own lips.

* * * *

Thranduil stood with his legs apart, slowly shifting his weight from left to right, trying in vain to anticipate what his tutor would do next. Glorfindel stood in front of him, training sword in hand, slowly rocking the wooden blade back and forth. The rhythmic motion reminded Thranduil of the way Lindir would move a slim baton, keeping the rhythm during their music lessons. A slow grin curved Glorfindel’s lips and Thranduil gasped as the sword came around to his left.

He leapt backward and blocked the blade with his own weapon, barely avoiding being struck in the shoulder.

“You must concentrate, Thranduil,” Glorfindel said as he stepped backward, pausing his assault to correct his pupil. “All it takes is one brief moment of lapse and your head can be removed from your shoulders.”

Thranduil nodded and took a defensive posture again. They circled one another slowly, Glorfindel thrusting and Thranduil blocking. The prince took a few hard blows to his arms and one of his legs, each time shaking off his frustration and trying again. Glorfindel suggested they take a break and Thranduil nodded in agreement, lowering his weapon, and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You are doing very well, my prince. I know that the sword is a weapon you are not accustomed to.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Thranduil replied. “I am also not accustomed to training with one as quick as you.”

Glorfindel grinned and bowed his head slightly in thanks. “That quickness is how I have managed to survive so many battles. As our training progresses, you will be just as quick with the blade. You are very light on your feet, and your archery skills are beyond compare – finer than any that I have seen in Imladris.”

Thranduil blushed a little. “Thank you, my lord.”

Over Glorfindel’s shoulder, Thranduil spied Lindir coming down the path toward the armory. Glorfindel noticed the change in the prince’s expression and turned to see his former lover.

“Have I come too soon?” Lindir asked as he arrived.

“We have concluded for the day,” Glorfindel answered.

“Master Lindir and I are going for a walk,” Thranduil responded. The look upon Glorfindel’s face was unmistakable. He paused for a moment then continued, “Would you care to join us?” Asking the question was a blunder, he could tell by the look in Lindir’s eye when he posed it.

Glorfindel held up his hand and shook his head. “No; thank you, my liege. I have things I must attend to.”

Thranduil looked at Lindir and smiled. “I will be but a moment.”

Lindir nodded and watched as the prince jogged into the barracks. He then looked at Glorfindel, who seemed to be torn between following Thranduil and staying where we was. “It is but a walk,” he said softly.

“What you do with your time is your concern,” Glorfindel answered kindly. “You need explain nothing to me.”

Lindir nodded and an uncomfortable moment of silence followed. “I…”

Glorfindel stepped forward and placed his hand upon Lindir’s shoulder. “I want you to feel free to do whatever you wish to do. This present situation is my fault entirely, you should feel no guilt for getting on with your life.” He reached up and gently cupped Lindir’s cheek. “I am truly sorry, sparrow. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

Thranduil stepped into the doorway of the barracks to see Glorfindel gently touching Lindir’s cheek. He might be young but he had lived long enough to know what he was seeing. He waited a moment then made some noise so that they would hear him, then he stepped out into the sunshine.

As he approached, Glorfindel cast one, quick, sad glance toward Lindir, then the warrior said, “Enjoy your walk.” Then Glorfindel departed the training field.

Thranduil looked at Lindir thoughtfully as the minstrel watched the Elda depart, then he smiled as Lindir’s gaze returned to him, and he held out his arm.

Lindir accepted the gesture, placing his hand in the crook of the prince’s arm, and then they headed down the trail toward the woods.

* * * *

They had walked some distance in a silence that was briefly and sporadically punctuated by small talk, when Thranduil made a bold move. “There has been something between the two of you,” he said quietly as they slowly descended the stair that led to the Ford of Bruinen.

“Aye, there was, but that is finished now,” Lindir answered quietly.

Thranduil nodded. “It is impossible to simply stop loving someone. He still loves you, I can tell by the way he looks at you.”

“Perhaps,” Lindir returned. “But he loves another more. I cannot be someone’s second choice.”

“You should not be,” Thranduil replied. “You are kind, beautiful, and you have the most extraordinary voice I have ever heard. You should be no one’s second choice.”

Lindir smiled and then reached out for Thranduil’s offered hand as they reached a particularly difficult part of the stair.

“We are near the bottom,” Thranduil said. “Where should we go from here?” The last step was particularly steep, and as Lindir came down he gasped and reached for his left leg. “Are you all right?” Thranduil asked with concern, as he saw his friend bent over, grasping his leg.

“I am fine,” Lindir replied, his voice calm if not a bit strained. “It is a remnant of an old wound that gives complaint from time to time.”

“Shall we take a rest?” Thranduil asked, guiding Lindir to sit on the last step.

Lindir nodded. “Aye, I would like that. Thank you.”

Thranduil sat beside his friend, his eyes scanning the landscape. He was in unfamiliar territory, which meant he was automatically on guard. He did not have a bow with him, but he did carry a set of knives in his boots, just in case. “We have gone too far, have we not?”

Lindir sighed; his leg was not feeling any better. “”Tis my fault. I know my limitations and I ignored them. I suppose I was hoping things would be better and I would be able to walk further.”

“Had I known that you…”

Lindir placed his fingers on Thranduil’s lips. “My fault, not yours,” he said softly.

Thranduil smiled and nodded as Lindir removed his hand. “Let us rest awhile, then I will carry you home.”

“You are going to carry me all the way back . . . up the stair?”

“I am not going to leave you here alone, and we are not prepared to spend the night out here without supplies.” He looked at Lindir and smiled. “Although it is tempting to take advantage of the opportunity to spend the night with you.” He winked.

Lindir chuckled then shook his head. “Ai. I am so sorry, Thranduil.”

Thranduil held up his hand. “I will hear none of that, Master Lindir. This is an opportunity for me to prove my fitness.”

Lindir snorted. “I dare say it is.”

Thranduil placed his hand upon Lindir’s back. “Luckily, you are not Glorfindel, or I would find this task more daunting.”

They sat for a while and slowly the pain in Lindir’s leg began to subside. “Perhaps I can make it back on my own now,” he said, then he stood and took a step. He grimaced as the pain returned.

“No more heroics, my friend,” Thranduil said. “Climb onto my back, it will be the easiest way.”

Lindir sighed and then climbed onto the prince’s back, placing his arms around Thranduil’s neck.

“Off we go then,” Thranduil murmured, looking up the long stairway.

“Do not drop me,” Lindir murmured near the prince’s ear.

“Never,” Thranduil replied, gently leaning his head against Lindir’s cheek.

*****

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