Not Wholly Fruitless by maeglin

Not Your Lord

Imladris, T.A. 2260

Word spread quickly through the Last Homely House that visitors from Eryn Galen had arrived.  This was not unusual, to be sure (though less usual than all would have liked), but these were not merely the usual traders or messengers, for among their number was their younger prince.  This was his first visit.

Lindir escorted the young prince down the hall, to the last door.  The one on the right, not yet Elrond’s, which was the one on the left.  He then knocked twice. 

A tall, bright-eyed Noldo opened the heavy door.

Lindir greeted the Elf formally, with a slight bow.  “Counsellor Erestor, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Galen.”  

Said Elf replied only “Thank you, Lindir.  That will be all.”  

He turned to his noble guest, and gestured formally to the waiting chairs.  “Prince Legolas, welcome to Imladris.  Please come in.  Do you take coffee?  A Mannish drink from Harad, but I have come to enjoy it.”

Legolas bowed, entered, and answered, equally formally.  “Thank you, my lord.  I think I will.”

His host then sat in a rather excessively (to Legolas’ opinion) ornately carved chair, and waited as the prince refreshed himself. 

And then said — “I am not a lord of anything, any more.  Unfortunately.”

If Elves ever stammered, Legolas most certainly would have.  After some consideration of how to reply, and how best to address his host - “My condolences” did not seem appropriate, and “my former lord” was plainly ridiculous, he went with the safe option and merely said “Ah.”

His host nodded, seemingly satisfied.  A shrug of the elegantly cloaked shoulders seemed to dismiss the issue.  But then —

“And I am certainly not your lord.”

The young Prince simply did not know what to do.  Though undeniably true, was such a reply not exceedingly rude?  He thought so, but then again, he had been told many times that one could never tell with these old Noldor…

Erestor laughed aloud.  “I am sorry, but the look on your face is priceless!  Forgive me — Lindir and I do enjoy having a little fun with our Silvan guests.  And in the fine Silvan tradition — which I admire greatly — we do not make exceptions for royalty.”

The Exile (who was, in point of fact, very much still a lord, though only a de jure one - the issue was, truth be told, rather complicated and had, in the late Second Age, been a source of serious contention within the valley, mostly between Elrond and Erestor's wife, who was herself a lady of very high birth, though not of a lineage that was suitable to discuss with this particular guest) nodded to the Prince, with a slight tip of his cup, in clear salute.  And knew that this latest generation of the House of Oropher would be far easier to deal with than the first had been.

Chapter End Notes

Erestor's wife (in my "universe") is Hithriel, the extracanonical (but not anticanonical) daughter of Curufin / sister of Celebrimbor.  This is not something it would be wise to flaunt when Oropher's grandson is in one's office :)