King Thingol's Codpiece by elfscribe

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Chapter 4 - The Game's Afoot

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"Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!"
Sherlock Holmes in the Adventure of the Abbey Grange.

Oropher awoke suffering from a hang-over and a raging hard on. He was plastered against Finrod’s side with one arm thrown about the Noldo’s waist and inelegantly drooling on his shoulder.  Finrod lay face up, his golden hair splayed on the pillows. Grumpily, Oropher sat up and wiped the saliva from his mouth. Not since he was a small child had he ever spent the night so chastely in someone else’s bed. He wondered whether he should jump Finrod and see how long the Noldo could continue to resist, or if he should sit there a while, thinking about something unpleasant until he could deflate enough to take a piss. He wished he knew where Normegil lived.  At least he had been interested.  Curse Finrod anyway for being so obstinate.

He sat up and moaned, putting his head in his hands. 

Finrod stirred. “Too much wine?” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, and not enough of . . . other things,” Oropher said.  “I’m smoking up the last of my echuilas for this rotten head of mine and leaving none for you.”

“Ooh, bad mood too,” Finrod said, opening those intense blue-grey eyes. “One might think Thingol’s missing codpiece was getting to you.”  Then, he frowned and wiped off his shoulder.

“You know exactly why I’m in a bad mood,” Oropher said.  He rose and padded over to the separate room which, marvelous to say, had running water in the piss pot.  He remembered last night when they set their packs down in the room, Finrod had spent an hour studying the plumbing mechanism, vowing to apply it to his own dwelling in Nargothrond.  However, right now all Oropher cared about was that it worked and did not stink. 

“All right, then, Assistant, shall we solve the mystery so that everyone in Menegroth can regain a good humor?”  Finrod called from the other room.  He appeared and worked the pump that allowed water to flow into the basin, washed his face, and got dressed.  Oropher followed his example, albeit more slowly.  They consumed the rest of Oropher’s bread and cheese, and had a quick smoke before heading out of the room.

By that time, Oropher’s mood had improved.  “Now where?” he asked.

“We should find a ladder.  I expect the most likely spot would be the builders’ quarter,” Finrod said.

“I saw one in the main hall yesterday,” Oropher said.  “They were using it to clean the bird crap from the stonework.”

“Good,” Finrod said.  “That is closer.  Let’s go see if we can get the loan of it for an hour.”

*********

Finrod and Oropher procured a collapsible pine ladder with little problem. With some difficulty and inadvertent comedy, together they carried it up the winding stair to Celeborn’s rooms.  Knocking on the door woke up a servant, who expressed surprise at seeing them with their unwieldy burden.

“We need to see Celeborn,” Finrod announced.

“His lordship is asleep,” the elf declared solemnly.  He rubbed the sleep from his own eyes.

“Not for long,” Finrod declared.  He pushed past the spluttering elf and they carried the ladder into the hallway.  Finrod pounded on the bedroom door.  “Get up, Celeborn, the day is a wasting!” he cried. 

Shortly thereafter, a sleepy Celeborn emerged, long hair unbraided and askew, wearing a long grey robe. “Finrod?  This is an uncivilized hour of the morning,” he said.  “What are you doing here?”

“We have a lead!” Finrod announced gleefully, as he marched past Celeborn carrying one end of the ladder. Celeborn glared at Oropher, who shrugged as best he could while carrying the other end.

“A ladder?” Celeborn declared.  “Are you crazy?” 

“Ah, there is a window up there!” Finrod cried.  “Good eyes, Oropher!”  Indeed, the light of a gloriously rosy dawn suffused in through a large window set into the canted roof.

“Of course there is a window,” Celeborn said.  “I could have told you that, if you’d asked. Are you suggesting that someone could have climbed down from there to steal the Codpiece?  Impossible! Even if someone could have dropped twenty feet to the floor without injury, there is no way to scale the tree from the outside.”

“Come, Oropher, let’s set this up here,” Finrod said  They rested the ladder on its side, pulled out the second tier and slotted it into place, and then the two of them raised it into position, with Celeborn hovering nervously behind them. 

“Now Celeborn, how do you open it?”  Finrod asked.

“What?”

“The window, man! Are you daft?” Finrod said.      

“Just because you will be my future brother-in-law is no reason to be start calling me names,” Celeborn said.

Finrod grabbed Celeborn by the front of his robe.  “Wake up and smell the cherry blossoms, Celeborn! If what I think happened, young Oropher and I are about to save your arse, as well as that of your betrothed, my sister.  I just need to perform an experiment.  Are you willing to help or do I need to shove you out into the hall?”

Celeborn paused for a moment, then nodded.  “Very well, but I think you’ve lost your mind.  The window opens with a crank, like so.”   He reached behind the bureau and pulled out a long metal pole with a hook on one end and a bent handle on the other.  Raising the pole to the side of the window, he inserted the hook into a metal loop and began rotating it around.  The window slowly creaked outward.  Oropher and Finrod craned their necks watching.

“I usually open it only half way,” Celeborn said.

“Open it as wide as possible,” Finrod replied.

“What? Do you think squirrels took the Codpiece?” Celeborn said scornfully.

“Something like that,” Finrod said.   He removed one of the jeweled clasps from his hair and set it on top of the bureau where the Codpiece had last been seen.

“Now, we need a place to hide,” Finrod declared.

“Here,” Oropher said excitedly.  He opened the wardrobe that stood on the opposite wall and scrambled inside.
 
“You too, Celeborn,” Finrod declared.  The next thing Oropher knew, the Lord Celeborn was being shoved into the wardrobe, crammed next to him. Finrod came in last, shutting the door nearly closed while holding onto the wooden frame with his fingertips.  There was hardly any room for two, let alone three, and Oropher was shoved against the back of the wardrobe up against some heavy cloaks. He could barely move, mashed as he was against Finrod’s backside and with Celeborn’s elbow in his ribs and breathing heavily in his ear.

“If you don’t tell me what this is about . . . ,” Celeborn threatened.    

“Shut up,” Finrod ordered and at the same time Oropher said, “Shhh.”

Finrod bent over slightly to put his eye to the crack in the door and Oropher managed to get his head in over Finrod’s.  From that vantage point, he could just see the bureau across the room.  “What now?” he whispered.

“We wait,” Finrod said. 

“Guh, mumph,” Celeborn said, trying to push a heavy cloak from his face.

“Stop wiggling, Celeborn,” Finrod said.  “And prove yourself worthy of my sister. If you aren’t still, I swear, I’ll punch you. I would be willing to bet my eyeteeth this will work.”

Finrod sounded so excited that it was catching.  However, the anticipation diminished rapidly as they endured a long period of increasing discomfort. Finrod’s hair was itching Oropher’s nose and the subtle motions of Finrod’s backside against his groin had become torture of a different sort. 

“What’s that thing you get when you’re scared of enclosed spaces?” Oropher whispered.

“Claustrophobia,” Finrod said.

“Well, I think I’m getting that,” Oropher said.  He sneezed into Finrod’s hair.

“By Námo’s Nut Sack, Oropher!” Finrod whispered in disgust as he reached up to brush the back of his head.  More time passed.

“My leg has gone to sleep,” Celeborn growled. “How long do you intend on keeping us in here? I really must insist on an explanation, Finrod . . . .”

“Um,” Oropher said, trying to wriggle into a less compromising position.

“Quit it, both of you,” Finrod snapped. 

Time crawled by. The room brightened with the rising sun.  Suddenly a ripe smell filled the wardrobe.

“All right, who did that?” Finrod choked.

Celeborn snickered. 

“By Angband’s pits,” Oropher moaned, holding his nose.

“Really, Celeborn, this is a disgraceful way to treat your future in-law,” Finrod said.

“You’re the one who dragged me in here!” Celeborn growled.

“Shhh.  And Oropher, that had better be your sword pommel.” 

“I’m not wearing a  . . . ,” Oropher began.   

“Precisely,” Finrod said. wriggling a little, which only made Oropher’s condition worse.  Was he doing that on purpose?  If so, as soon as they got out of the wardrobe, Oropher planned to deck him.  Was it Finrod’s idea of a joke to keep him perpetually needy?

“Fantastic! I’m stuck in here with two lust fiends,” Celeborn declared.

“You are one to talk, Teleporno,” Finrod said. “May I remind you why we are here in the first place.”

“Finrod, I can’t . . . ,” Oropher complained. 

“Shhh!” Finrod said suddenly, tensing.  “Look!”

Through the crack in the wardrobe door, Oropher saw a blur of something black land on the bureau.  He craned his head forward to see better.  There!  A huge raven now strutted back and forth on the furniture.  The bird leaned over, cocked his head from one side to the other, then picked up the clasp in his broad beak. He stood there for a moment.

“Just as I thought,” Finrod said softly.

“Ahhh, one of the King’s messengers,” Oropher whispered. “The little thief.” 

“By the Belain!” Celeborn croaked menacingly. “I’ll wring its neck.”  He struggled upright, in the process elbowing Oropher hard in the side.  Oropher could not help but let out a gasp.      

The raven took off, disappearing from the field of view.

“Quick!”  Finrod cried, throwing the door open. The three of them popped free of the wardrobe, landing in a heap on the floor. Oropher took a big gulp of non-Celeborn scented air. Finrod rapidly crawled out from under him, ran across the room, and began bounding up the ladder.  “Come, Oropher,” he cried happily.  “The game’s afoot!”

Celeborn attempted to get up and fell over again on his face.  Then he staggered around in a circle as if drunk, “Mandos, my leg!” he moaned.

Oropher paid him no heed.  Without even thinking what he was doing, he scrambled after Finrod, who had reached the top of the ladder and squeezed through the window.  Sliding footfalls could be heard on the roof and then nothing. 

Oropher climbed up after him, and poked his head out of the window.  Overhead, the vast trunk of Neldor towered. At this height, it was tapering towards its crown, but was still immense.  Many branches grew on all sides like giant wheel spokes, mostly barren of leaves. One branch extended just beyond arm’s reach from the window. It did not look too far to grab if he jumped.  Then, Oropher looked down and nearly puked from vertigo at the dizzying drop to the rocks far below. Just as Celeborn had said, there was no scaling this tree from the ground. In the distance, he heard the roaring Esgalduin. Look up, look up, he thought frantically. There, above him, single-mindedly scrambling up the branch after the raven, was Finrod. Oropher swallowed hard.

“Come along, Oropher,” Finrod called cheerfully.  “We’re closing in on our quarry.”

He is insane, Oropher thought. Full on, batshit mad.  I should have known all along. 

Below him on the ladder, he heard Celeborn call out, “What’s happening?”  

Oropher ducked his head back down.  “He’s chasing after the raven.”

“Do you really think that bird has the Codpiece?” Celeborn said.

“I think it’s likely,” Oropher said. “I’m going after him.  You stay here and make sure no one takes away the ladder or we’ll be stuck up here.”

“Very well,” Celeborn said doubtfully.  “Be careful, will you?”

“By the Belain, I’ll try,” Oropher said.  He hauled himself over the edge of the window, squeezing through the opening, breathing heavily.  I must be as crazy as that Noldo, he thought.  He crawled out onto the slanting roof, realizing that any misstep would send him hurtling down to the rocks below on an untimely voyage to Bannoth.  Above him, the thick branch hung tantalizingly.  He couldn’t allow Finrod to go by himself, could he?   What if that raven attacked him while he was vulnerable in the tree? Slowly, he stood, reaching for the branch and trying to keep his balance.  He began to slide on the thick grey slate of the roof. Oh, this was not good. Oropher thought he could just about reach that branch overhead. Desperately, he leapt into the air and wrapped his arms about the branch, hanging on for dear life as he hung there, legs swinging.

“Quit playing around and get up here,” he heard Finrod call way above him.

“Rut you!” Oropher grunted.  Slowly, he hauled himself up on top of the branch and lay clutching it, his heart pounding in his chest. This was insane times twelve. He grabbed a smaller branch growing vertically from the main one, tested it for stability and looked up.  Finrod was about one hundred feet above him, climbing steadily upward through the branches towards a huge nest – the closest one among a dozen others in the tree. Several of the King’s evil-looking messengers were flapping about, calling with harsh voices.

You wanted to live for the moment, Oropher said to himself, now is the chance.  And he began to climb.  One branch, then the next, higher and further.  As he drew near the great shaggy nest built in the crotch of a branch, he saw one of the ravens flying around, calling loudly. The nest itself looked to be ancient, a huge, untidy mass of twigs about ten feet across, no doubt formed by many generations of corvids.  Bits and pieces of a strange conversation floated down.  He recognized Finrod’s clear tones and then heard a raven’s harsh croaking voice, the words barely discernable.   

Reaching the edge of the nest, he looked down into it and saw Finrod sitting there with knees drawn up,  as composed as if he were having tea with the King.  Opposite him, brooding a clutch of blue-green eggs sat a raven nearly half Finrod’s size. Oropher discerned a small pile of glittery objects nearby, among them Finrod’s comb. But there was no Codpiece to be seen. 

Another  raven with a glossy black coat that shone purple in the light landed on one of the branches supporting the nest and waddled towards them.  That must be the male. 

Finrod turned his head and looked up at Oropher. “Come along,” he called with an overarm wave.  “It’s easier to sit here than out there.  This is Arark,” he indicated the female raven.  “And that is her husband Ka. They serve as messengers to the King.”  He turned back to the ravens. “This is my assistant, Oropher,” he said.  Ka dipped his head in that abrupt bobbing way birds have.  Oropher noted his vicious beak, cruel claws, and sly expression and realized that here the birds had all the advantages and he and Finrod none.  The queasy feeling in his stomach increased.

Sending a little prayer out to the Belain, Oropher crept forward, feeling the whole branch shaking under him.  He straddled the rim of the nest, while gripping an overhead branch.  “I’m good here,” he said to Finrod. Sitting so high up was terrifying. Oropher kept his eyes firmly fixed on Finrod and the ravens. He didn’t even want to think about climbing back down. 

“Honor it is,” Ka croaked in a voice of gravel.  “Never before have the subjects of Elu Thingol visited our home.” 

“That is a shame,” Finrod said. “You have a fine nest.  But we cannot fly and so do not like high places.  It is only dire need that brings us.  The King himself sent us to learn from your wisdom.”

“Rawrk,” Ka said, fluttering his wings.  He cocked his head.  “A polite elf, not so full of himself.  You may ask.”

“How is it that you could produce a clutch of eggs when none others have done so?” Finrod said.

Arark spoke then in a hoarse voice somewhat higher than that of her husband. “This time for fifty annual cycles of the sun, Ka and I have raised a brood,” she said. 

“Yes, but this spring is different,” Finrod said. “As well you know.”  Swiftly, Finrod dipped his hand to the pile of glittery items and picked up the stolen hair clip.  He held it up to the other one still in his hair.  “Why did you take this?”

“Rawrk, no harm, no harm,” Ka said.  “A gift to gladden my spouse while she sits.”

“Yes, you may have meant no harm, but a lunar cycle ago you took something from the Lord Celeborn from the same place on his bureau. Something very bright and glittery.  Its magic is the reason you were able to produce young when all your relatives over there,” he waved at the circling ravens, “could not.  It is a matter of great importance for all creatures who live in Doriath that he gets it back.  Without it, there will be no more young, no fruit to feed them, no leaves, no life.” This last word was said in ominous tones. “It is most imperative that we get it back.”

“Awwwak,” Ka cried.  “Terrible tidings.”  He looked at his wife and clacked his beak. 

Arark answered in kind. Then she said.  “Tell the King, we did not know. Who would think such a valuable thing would be thrown out of Lord Celeborn’s nest like that?  We thought he did not want it. It was such a pretty thing, my husband could not resist.”
 
“I’m prepared to trade something for it.”  Here Finrod unfastened his other hair clasp and held it out, moving it so that the diamonds sparkled in the light.

Arark looked at it greedily.  “Ah, pretty,” she said. “But we cannot trade.”

“Why ever not?” Finrod growled.  “I’m not sure you understand the gravity of this situation, for your brood as well as the rest of the forest’s denizens.”

Arark clicked her beak and flapped her wings, seemingly in agitation. But she did not leave her eggs.  Oropher wondered what in Ennor was the matter with her.  “Ah, the King, the King will kill us,” she cried.  “He will hunt us with bows of yew.”

“The King will not, I promise as an elf come from Aman,” Finrod said.  “Just tell me what you’ve done with it.”

“It’s gone,” Arark said. “We have it no more.”

“But you did have it, you know what I’m talking about,” replied Finrod.

“Aye,” Ka fluttered down into the nest and stood next to his wife.  “Pouch with thongs. Made of skin of deer with many bright stones.  Beautiful. Like bees, it buzzed, warming our nest.”  Affectionately, he jittered his beak along his wife’s neck. “We kept it two nights and then Arark laid our eggs.”

“That’s it,” Finrod said. “Where is it?”

“We traded,” Ka said. 

“You what?”  Oropher exclaimed, which earned him a calculating glance from the raven.

“Arark needed food.  Seeking, I was, and there was none.  I found a garden, all barren, but she was there and gave me in trade some grain and dried berries, enough to hatch our chicks.”

“Who did you give it to?” Finrod asked.

“The Shepherdess of Trees,” Ka replied as if it were obvious. 

“The Onodbess! What was her name?” Finrod cried.  “As if I can’t guess.”

“Rawk, hmm,” Ka said.  Maddeningly, he began preening his feathers. Finrod waited patiently but Oropher was ready to leap down and strangle the bird before the raven finally croaked out, “Fimbrethil, that was her name.”

“Fangorn’s wife!”  Oropher exclaimed. 

Finrod rubbed his chin. “When did you trade it?”  

“Sun has risen once since then,” Ka replied.  “Arark ate well last night. Good trade.”

“Can you take us to Fimbrethil?”  
 
The raven bobbed his head.  “I could,” he replied.  “Far from here.  Must fly.”

“We will have to ride,” Finrod said.  “Ka, if you do this, I promise, all will be forgiven.  King Thingol will provide you with food for your family.  You have my word.”

Once again the birds engaged in their beak clacking exchange. Then Arark spoke.  “Tell the King we are most sorry and will help to fix our error.”

Just then another raven flapped down onto the branch and bobbed his head at Ka.  There followed a series of croaks and squawks. The newcomer moved about in a circle, flapping his wings, and Ka imitated it.  

“What are they saying?” Oropher asked.

“Ah, bad news, very bad,” Arark said.  “Krok, our son, has just come back from the northern fences. The Abominations gather there to attack.”  She cocked her head listening.  “One thousand strong.”

“The abominations? Orcs?” Oropher said in horror.

“Aye,” Arark said. “Just at daybreak, Krok reported to the Elven King. Even now, Thingol musters Menegroth.” The raven raised up, flapping her wings, then settled again. “Bad news for the elves.”

“Bad news for us all,” Finrod replied.  “Ka, that garment you traded, the codpiece, it is key to maintaining the magic that protects the borders.  We must get it back immediately.  Are you prepared to guide us to Fimbrethil?”

“Aye,” Ka cocked his head. 

“Wait for us outside the main gates of Menegroth,” Finrod said.  “We will be there shortly.   Come Oropher, no time to lose!”

Oropher looked down between his dangling toes and a wave of nausea hit him.  “I don’t think I can climb back down, Finrod.”

“Nonsense, you got up here, you can get back down.  It’s the same, just in reverse,” Finrod replied briskly.  “Here, I’ll go ahead and guide you.”

The climb back down the tree was the worst thing Oropher had ever done in his life.  Ka flew alongside, offering helpful suggestions for where to put his feet and hands.  When they finally reached the branch over Celeborn’s roof, Finrod dropped down, grabbed hold of the edge of the window and lowered himself in.  He turned and leaned far out, looking up anxiously at Oropher, who held fast to the branch, gasping for breath, and thinking there was no way he could leap the gap to that slanting roof.  Holding his arms out, Finrod spoke words of encouragement.  Oropher slowly lowered himself until his toes touched the edge of the roof.  He felt Finrod grasp his legs.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” Finrod said. 

Oropher took a deep breath, released the branch, and whoa! wobbled on the slanted roof.  Ka flew down and grabbed hold of the back of his jacket until he steadied.  Then, he fell forward onto his hands and backed down into the window opening, while Finrod guided him. 

Unsteadily, he climbed down the ladder and finally, finally his feet met the floor. 

“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Finrod said.

“By Oromë’s hornblast,” Oropher moaned.  He fell to his knees, leaned down, and kissed the stone.  “Never, never ask me to do that again, Finrod,” he blithered. “You are completely and totally insane, you know that.”

Finrod crouched down next to him and ruffled his hair.  “And you are lovely and brave,” he said. “Come now.  We’ve some work to do and quickly. Where is Celeborn?”

“I am here,” Celeborn said, coming into the room. He was fully dressed in battle gear complete with armor. “While you were aloft, I heard that King Thingol has called for us all to ride to the northern fence.  Orcs are on the move and apparently the borders have been breached. Did the raven have the Codpiece?”

“He took it, but does not have it now, more’s the pity. However, he knows where it is and will guide us there,” Finrod said. “Celeborn, I need you to show me where the secret entrance to King Thingol’s rooms are.”

“Why?” Celeborn asked.

“Because I need to take Melian’s Girdle with us.  The quicker we can reunite the Girdle and the Codpiece, the faster the fences will be restored.”   

“Is that how the girdle of enchantment works?” Celeborn’s face blanched. “By the Belain, if I’d known, I’d never have dared lay a hand to the thing.”

“In this case, secrecy was not Thingol’s best gambit,” Finrod said. “Come Oropher.”   

Celeborn picked up a torch in the hall and led them down the winding stair and across the wide rock garden with its maze of boulders.  In between the boulders, the elves had laid colored sand which was raked into various designs.  They located a pile of boulders covering an alcove. “Go into the back there, and press three times at the shallow indentation,” Celeborn said. “Be persistent, it’s hard to find.”

They heard a woman’s voice call, “So, there you are.” Oropher looked up and saw Galadriel striding towards them. At first Oropher didn’t recognize her, as she was also dressed in armor, with her hair tucked under a helm. 

“What are you doing?” Celeborn said.

“I’m coming with you, my love,” Galadriel said. 

“You most certainly are not!” Celeborn replied.

Galadriel tossed her head.  “Don’t you dare tell me what I will and will not do.  I’ve been in battles and I can wield sword and bow.  This is my land now as well as yours and I intend to help protect it.”

“Celeborn, if I were you, I’d learn right now not to cross her,” Finrod said.  “We must go immediately.”  He bowed.  “Farewell dear Artanis.  Hopefully, if my day goes well, you will have no need to fight.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“We have solved the mystery and are close to retrieving the Codpiece,” Finrod announced with a gleam in his eye. “Celeborn, tell the guards to have my horse and one for Oropher ready at the front gate within the hour.” 

Then, Finrod took the torch from Celeborn, bent over and disappeared into the alcove.  Oropher looked at Celeborn and Galadriel, shrugged, and followed. 

“He found it?” he heard Galadriel say behind him. “That is wonderful news! Why then must he get his horse?”

***********
The passageway was stifling and filled with wispy cobwebs. Oropher breathed a sigh of relief when they finally came to the end and Finrod opened the secret door into the closet. Before them stood the strange statue with the glittering Girdle wrapped about its waist.  Finrod handed Oropher the torch, unhooked the Girdle and held it in his hands for a moment, thinking. Then he pulled up Oropher’s shirt.

“What?” Oropher protested. Finrod fastened it about his waist, coiled up the long end and stuffed it down into Oropher’s bright yellow codpiece. Immediately, Oropher sensed a strange vibration that curled rather pleasantly all through his groin. 

As delightful as the sensation was, not to mention that of Finrod’s hands fumbling about in his tights, Oropher was filled with a new panic. “Um, Finrod, do you know how much trouble we could be in,” he said, looking down at the strange lumps and knobs that now adorned his codpiece.  “Or rather, how much trouble I will be in, since I’m the one who seems to be stealing the most valuable item in Menegroth.  And by the way, have you thought of how to smuggle this out since we will be subject to a search at the Gates?”

“Yes, that is a problem,” Finrod said, tapping his lip. 

“What?  You don’t have a solution?”

“Not yet.  But I suspect all the guards will be scurrying about preparing to join the march to the northern border. They will be highly distractable.  We must hurry.”

At that moment, the closet door opened and Queen Melian herself stood there, her lovely face lit starkly by Oropher’s torch.  She blinked, and then scowled.  “I thought I heard rats in the closet,” she said.  “I was right.”

 

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Chapter End Notes

Teleporno - of course Celeborn’s name in Quenya.
Onodbess - Ent wife in Sindarin