Upon the Branching Years by IgnobleBard

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The Tournament

Erestor has his moment but Legolas wins the day.

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The next week passed slowly. Since all Legolas could do was work and sleep that is what he did. After the day was over and everyone else had left, he would make sure the armory was clean and tidy, with every tool and weapon in its place, before going back to his room. On the fourth day, one of the knights came in as he was finishing up and asked him to pound out a dent in his helm and polish it for a tournament on the morrow. He was almost as tall as Galdor, with thick dark hair and stern looking grey eyes that did not match his good-humored smile.

“I didn’t know there was a tournament tomorrow,” Legolas said as he pounded away. “Where is it to be held?”

“At the House of the Heavenly Arch. They have a big practice field for their archers and have made it available to all for training and tournaments. There is one every few months.”

Legolas remembered some of the others mentioning the upcoming event with a great deal of enthusiasm but had been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t paid it much attention.

“You should come,” the knight said. “It is quite a spectacle.”

He gave the man a wan smile. “I would love to, but I’m under house arrest I’m afraid.”

“Whatever for?”

“Does the name Legolas mean anything to you?” He glanced at the knight as he put the helm between his knees and began to buff a shine into it.

Recognition flashed across the knight’s handsome face but he tried to play it off like he wasn’t sure. Legolas laughed at his expression. “It’s all right.” He handed him back his helmet. “Much luck to you though. Try not to get another dent.”

The knight looked the work over with an appreciative eye. “Well done, Legolas. It is like new.”

“Thanks, but not quite. I still have much to learn.”

The knight lingered a moment more, looking at him thoughtfully, then he thanked him and took his leave.

That evening, Legolas was enjoying a nice long soak in the tub before heading to his room when the knight burst in, flushed with excitement. He flushed deeper when he saw Legolas was in the tub and turned away quickly. “Oh, excuse me.”

“What can I do for you?” Legolas asked. The man’s modesty amused him. He got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“I just wanted to let you know I have spoken to Galdor.” He glanced over his shoulder and seeing it was safe turned around. “I hope you don’t mind. I convinced him you should come to the tournament. You are to be my second tomorrow.”

Legolas couldn’t believe his ears. The others would kill for an opportunity like this. Then he thought of the talk that would follow and his excitement was momentarily dampened. The look on the knight’s face was full of pride in himself for helping him mingled with the hope that Legolas would accept.

‘If they are determined to talk, let them,’ Legolas thought. ‘If I can’t stop it I might as well enjoy the looks on their faces.’ To the knight he smiled and said, “You do me great honor… Forgive me, I never asked you your name.”

“It’s Erestor,” the knight said with a happy grin. “Be ready at dawn.”

“I will, and thank you, Erestor. It will be a privilege to serve you.”

The next morning saw Legolas ready to go long before Erestor called for him, having slept little in his excitement. He transported Erestor’s weapons and armor on a small cart that he pulled along as they walked to the House of the Heavenly Arch, along with a throng of people all animated and chattering together about the promise of the day. Someone even teased Erestor about the blow he had taken to his helm during practice a few days prior, asking if his ears were still ringing.

“What did you say?” he asked, a roguish glint in his stern grey eyes. “I can’t hear you over this ringing in my ears.”

The crowd, along with Legolas, burst into laughter and a few even cheered. Legolas found Erestor’s geniality a welcome balm to his spirit. Everyone seemed to be in a merry mood as they made their way en masse to the House of the Heavenly Arch.

The Heavenly Arch looked much like all the other Great Houses in Gondolin, save for the rainbow of precious gems set into its gates and glittering upon the pillars of the courtyard. It’s tower rose, opalescent, into the pale blue spring sky, its pennants flapping in the stiff, chill wind that heralded a pleasantly cool day ahead.

Erestor led the way to a wide promenade trimmed with multitudes of flowers that ran between the house and gardens. Three fountains in three separate garden areas, ringed by neatly manicured shrubbery and topiaries, sent their crystal waters high into the air creating small rainbows as the morning sun shown through the spray. Past the gardens the path split, with the crowd of spectators going one way while Erestor, Legolas, and the knights took the other. They passed under a marble archway and into the house armory. It was much bigger than the one at the Tree, and many workers scurried about finishing up small tasks so they could watch the tournament.

Beyond the armory was a field almost four hundred feet long and over two hundred feet wide with pavilions set up along one side of the perimeter sporting the colors of each house. On the other side of the field spectators were being entertained by singers, acrobats, fire eaters, and a host of other performers prior to the beginning of the competitions. The air was festive, and as the knights arrived sporadic cheers went up from their admirers. Erestor received an enthusiastic ovation, and he smiled and waved in acknowledgement before he and Legolas entered the pavilion.

While Legolas saw to Erestor’s weapons and armor, the knight gathered with his fellows to greet each other and discuss the day’s strategy. Sometimes the lords of the houses participated in shows of skill and strength but they did not compete, instead taking pride in the skill of their men.

While he worked and listened, a fellow Armorer’s Assistant from the Tree greeted him. “Mae govannen, Legolas! I did not expect to see you here.”

“Mae govannen, Orthul. Nor did I expect to be. Erestor championed me and got me an early release.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you, I heard that it was but a misunderstanding. You have fared well, however. Erestor is one of our best.”

“I am most grateful to him and look forward to seeing him in the tournament today. This is my first time to attend an event of this grandeur.”

“Oh, then you probably don’t know how it works.”

“No, this is all new to me.”

So Orthul launched into an explanation of the day’s events. The competitions comprised target shooting, a round robin hand to hand combat session, and an endurance test. The endurance section consisted of a kind of obstacle course where the contestants would target shoot as they ran, climb a series of increasingly higher walls and hurl axes at orc effigies, which were made moving targets by a system of ropes and pulleys, then run a gauntlet of twelve soldiers, one from each house.

The contestant must best each opponent along the gauntlet before moving on to the next until reaching the end of the course, if he was able. The endurance test was timed and the winner determined by the speed and accuracy of each skill demonstrated. The final winner, based on points and time for each event, was awarded a sash that marked him champion until the next competition. All contestants had to show proficiency in the bow and axe but could fight the combat rounds with a weapon of choice.

Legolas took this all in with amazement. He had attended shooting and combat matches in Imladris, but never anything as elaborate and difficult as this. His excitement grew as the contestants began gathering their bows and quivers for the first round, which was the target shooting.

He stood beside Erestor, watching a knight of the Heavenly Arch take his stance and draw. Legolas felt a streak of envy for his intricately crafted longbow, set with emeralds and opal, with its red fletched arrows. The distance was the entire length of the field but he hit the target with ease, just off the center mark, to a round of wild applause. When it was Erestor’s turn, Legolas handed him his bow and quiver. He had inspected every arrow beforehand to make sure it would fly true and had adjusted the bowstring to make sure it was perfectly aligned and that the pull had the correct tension for the distance.

“You are a good second, but that will not help Erestor. Archery is not his strength,” Orthul said.

Legolas just smiled. Elrond had once told him that his Loremaster had been considered an excellent bowman in his day, though that had been a very long time ago.

Erestor took his stance and when he nocked the arrow and pulled it back, a look of surprise and delight stole over his face. He let the missile fly and it hit the target with a satisfying thunk, dead center. His fans in the crowd leapt to their feet and shouted with joy and surprise at Erestor’s amazing shot. Even the folk of the House of the Arch applauded, if a bit more sedately, to see such a display.

Orthul raised an eyebrow at Legolas as Erestor came back and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, lad. That’s perhaps the best shooting I’ve ever done.”

“The best!” Orthul mouthed behind Erestor’s back. He gave Legolas a thumbs up.

Erestor turned to him and was met with an innocent grin. “Don’t you have a knight to see to? He’s up soon, I believe.”

“Yes, my lord.” Orthul rolled his eyes as Erestor turned away, then winked at Legolas and scampered off.

After the rounds were over, and Erestor was declared the winner of the event, the contestants took a break as the entertainers and food vendors began to move among the spectators. Erestor and Legolas were chatting about the upcoming combat round when Glorfindel and Galdor made their way over. Legolas was not surprised Glorfindel was there but was surprised to see him with Galdor. It made him a bit apprehensive. He was determined to hold his tongue should Glorfindel choose to bait him again.

Galdor greeted Erestor with an exuberant smile. “Well done, Erestor! Your performance was superb.”

“Thank you, my lord, but it is all due to Legolas. If he magics my other weapons I might even win today.”

Galdor chuckled and said to Glorfindel, “Our Legolas has many talents. One of which is getting out of trouble almost as fast as he gets in.”

Glorfindel gave Legolas a nod of acknowledgement along with a rueful look. “Trouble for which I must ask your pardon,” Glorfindel said to Legolas. “The fault was mine that day in the market, not yours. Had I known, I would have spoken to Galdor at once.”

“My words that day were hastily spoken and my resulting punishment just, Lord Glorfindel,” Legolas said. “Though I very much appreciate the courtesy of your apology.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Glorfindel said sincerely.

The urge to grab Glorfindel and kiss him right there in front of Galdor and Erestor and the whole crowd of people was nearly overwhelming. He realized he had to get a grip on himself before he caused another, more scandalous, scene.

“Thank you, Lord Glorfindel. You are most kind.” Legolas felt the color rise to his face, the flush deepening into embarrassment at his inability to hide his sudden rush of emotion.

“Why, Legolas, you are blushing,” Erestor teased, making Legolas wish he had stayed at the armory.

“It’s only the heat,” Legolas said, trying to cover his chagrin. A chill breeze blew through the pavilions just then, flapping the pennants and making Legolas’ hair dance around his face. ‘Thanks a lot, Manwë,’ he thought, annoyed.

“Yes, well, perhaps we had better leave these two to prepare for the next round,” Galdor said diplomatically. “Good luck, Erestor.” He gave Legolas a small, knowing nod and he and Glorfindel moved on.

Erestor won his combat round handily. Legolas made mental notes on how he wielded his club, both offensively and defensively, using his considerable strength combined with elegant footwork. He used his sling in the endurance round, running the swift zigzag course while sending nearly each projectile solidly to its mark. Legolas could see he was tired before the combat gauntlet began, but Erestor was game. He defeated all but one of the soldiers, a real bruiser of a knight from the Hammer of Wrath, before succumbing to the man’s relentless attack, nearly earning another dent to his helm in the process. In the end, Erestor managed to win the day by a single point, his score in the archery section putting him over the top.

He accepted the golden sash to the cheering and whistling of the crowd while the house staff set up a feast for the warriors on the field in front of the row of pavilions.

It was a night of merriment and fellowship. Much food and wine was consumed, many stories were told and songs sung. Erestor sang the praises of Legolas and his forest magic to anyone who would listen, until he began to feel like some mythological figure from the beginning of the world. As the hour grew late, they made their way back to the Tree awash in tipsy cheer. Legolas fell happily into bed that night, thoughts of Glorfindel lulling him into a most pleasant sleep.