FINDING NÁMO
Overall rating: yellow/orange
Category: slash (two male Elves in love), romance, drama, ANGST, h/c, humour.
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel, Orophin/Elladan, Elrohir/Námo, Elrond/Gil-galad, Gil-galad/Amaris, Celeborn/Melpomaen, Haldir/Rabbit, Rúmil/Galadriel and more
Warnings: mpreg, Angst - and we have scruffy Legolas, if this needs a warning.
Beta: Miss Eveiya
Summary: "Finding Námo" is the sequel to "The Knave", and I recommend that you read "The Knave" and "The Tw-Elf Days of Yule" first, otherwise some aspects of this story will be confusing.
CHAPTER 14
In the last chapter(s), we left
Celeborn in the dark
Melpomaen and Feronil battling head-lice
the king in a fix
Orophin in trouble
Firinwë as usual
Elcallon taking his first steps in a tavern
Glorfindel delighted
Nonfindel charmed
Erestor purring
Rúmil in charge
Galadriel determined
Amaris, Gil-galad, Elrond, Thranduil, Legolas and their respective armies on trees
Mauburz matchmaking
Elladan and Elrohir flabbergasted
Eldanar in ducky pyjamas
Námo exhausted
The Orcs attacking
* * *
Melpomaen, who had held his breath while he and Feronil had been walking down the stairs, let out a long sigh of relief upon seeing Orophin. The warrior stood with his back to the two Elves, his tall, broad-shouldered figure wrapped in a cloak. The tavern was empty save for the innkeeper but, upon receiving one of Feronil's icy glares, the man immediately dropped the cloth he had been using to dry the glasses and hurried to disappear through the kitchen door, pulling it closed behind him.
Feronil waited a few moments to make sure they really were alone, before approaching Orophin.
"I never thought I would say such a thing, but I am really delighted to see you. Did you find Celeborn? Can we finally leave this midden of a village and return to the fair banks of the Bruinen? I am fairly tired of..."
The figure in front of him turned around, and Feronil broke off his little rant, staring at the stranger open-mouthed.
"Who are you?" Melpomaen gasped, taking a step back.
"My name is Elcallon," the other replied, bowing his head in greeting. "Orophin told me to come here."
There was a moment of silence. Feronil looked at Elcallon with suspicion.
"And where, if I may ask, is Orophin?"
Elcallon sighed deeply and shrugged his shoulders.
"The last time I saw him, he was in the dungeon," he replied.
"The dungeon? The dungeon? Is he insane? Why in the Valar name is he in the dungeon?" Feronil hissed, trying hard to keep his voice down. "He is not supposed to be in the dungeon! He is supposed to be here and save our backsides!"
"He saved my life," Elcallon explained, "then he gave me his clothes so I could leave the palace, and he stayed behind."
Feronil looked Elcallon over, then he groaned.
"For a realm with no Elves, there is an amazing number of our kin running around here. Come, let us return to our chambers, this is not the place to discuss these things."
They went up the stairs, only to find the water boy sitting there, huddled in a corner and still clutching the pouch with the gold Feronil had given to him. He stared at the three Elves with big eyes, and his relief about their return was obvious.
"You are back," he whispered, then he got up to his feet and rushed to Feronil’s side, clinging to the Elf’s long leg. “You are back! You are back! You are back!”
Feronil tried to shake him off, but to no avail. He noticed with disgust that the boy wiped his snotty nose on his leggings.
"You have amazing powers of observation, fleabag," Feronil grumbled. "Now let go of my leg and hurry back to our room, before we all fall over you and break our necks!”
The child let go, but grabbed Feronil’s shirttail. He was determined not to lose his big friend again!
Feronil felt like a mother hen as he ushered his headless chickens back into the chamber. Why oh why had he only allowed Melpomaen to talk him into this madness!
* * *
The king had gone this way through the secret corridors hundreds, if not thousands of times in his life, but never with a knife to his throat before. It was difficult not to stumble and fall, because there was no torch to light his way, and he could not see a thing. The Elf behind him, however, did not hesitate a moment in his steps. The king had observed the sharp sight of the Elves in Elcallon before, so he was not surprised, but still: stumbling and maybe getting his throat cut in the process was something he intended to avoid at all costs.
"How much longer?" the Elf hissed, adding a little pressure to the blade. The king swallowed hard, felling the cold metal press in his skin.
"There is a door to the right, after the next turn. It's the entrance to the chambers of my Elves."
Orophin laughed humourlessly.
"Your Elves? Should you be lucky enough to live to see the end of this day, you will not have any Elves left for you to keep, Man."
"You would not kill me," the king said, hoping that his voice would not waver. "Elves do not kill."
"Oh, we do not?" Orophin laughed again, and pushed the Man forward. "I have to disappoint you - we do kill. At least this is what you told Elcallon. We are cowards, are we not? Killing innocents? Stealing babies? So why should I waste even a moment to consider sparing your miserable life?"
"I know that those stories are not true, but you must understand..." the king began, but a hard shove in his back cut him off.
"I ‘must’ absolutely nothing. And all the worse then, for it means that you and your forefathers lied to your prisoners intentionally."
One more turn, and really, there it was, the door.
Orophin saw the handle of the secret door. He pressed it down, using his elbow, and the door sprang open.
"You go first, just in case of unexpected surprises on the other side," Orophin hissed, and pushed the king forward.
The two were greeted by the sight of two Elves with very confused expressions on their faces. The female was with child, and the one who stood beside her, holding her hand, was probably her spouse.
"My king, what is happening?" she asked, obviously scared, and placed her hand protectively over her belly.
"It is happening that you will be free," Orophin answered in the king's place, for his majesty did not dare to speak with the cold steel of the blade pressing against his throat.
"Free? Free of what? What has happened? Who are you?" Elfaël asked, then, seeing the intruder's ears, took a step back and gasped in surprise. "You are an Elf? How can this be? Have you seen Elcallon? My king...?"
"I am Orophin, and you have been lied to all your lives. You have no king. Elcallon is fine, I hope. There are thousands and thousands of us, very much alive, from Imladris to Lothlórien and Mirkwood to Gondor. I will explain everything to you later, but now we must make haste. Pray tell, where is lord Celeborn?"
This flood of information was too much to process for Elfaël, so he only made a vague gesture in direction of the balcony.
Orophin turned his head, and indeed – there stood the tall figure of Celeborn.
“My lord!” he cried, overwhelmed with joy, “My lord! It is I, Orophin! I have come to bring you home!”
But Celeborn did not move; there was no sign of joy or even recognition on his face. When Orophin looked into his lord’s clear blue eyes and saw no expression or life in them, he began to realise that something was very, very wrong here.
* * *
"Had I known of your incompetence, I would have fought this war alone!"
Firinwë stomped her foot, and Finwë rolled his eyes.
"Mind your words. Is it my fault that none of your information was correct? It was you, my beloved grandchild, who said we could weaken them by separating Glorfindel from his family. And what does he do? Follows Erestor and this Nonfindel individual back to their people! And as we are already talking about it: why have you never mentioned that Glorfindel has a brother?"
"Is it my responsibility to keep track of everybody’s family tree? I though you were the all-knowing, all-seeing Vala around here, not I!"
"No, the all-knowing, all-seeing Vala is currently my brother. At the moment, I am merely an Elf with a little more power than the rest of you, doomed to live in this cave and be separated from my kin. If I still were a Vala, I would not need a hysterical female with a questionable fashion sense to get back my power and place among the Valar!"
Firinwë glared at him.
"Now that does it. Do you think I need you to get what I want? I am the one with the ring! I am the one with the power! Had I known how weak you are, I would have done this on my own, and victory would have been mine long ago! You have not kept any of your promises. I did not get Glorfindel, and Celeborn has disappeared. But I will be the Lady of the Golden Wood, even if I have to kill every single Galadhrim out there with my bare hands!"
She turned around, heading for the doors. Finwë got up from his seat.
"Wait! What are you planning to do?"
"I will do what would have been your duty – win this war.”
Firinwë stormed out, and Finwë closed his fingers into fists. Enough with the pleasantries – it was time to show those annoying Firstborn and his arrogant granddaughter that he was the one who set the rules by which this game had to be played.
“Bring me my armour and sword!” he yelled. “I shall go to battle, and they will crawl in the dust before me,” he added to himself. For a moment, he considered breaking out in maniacal laughter, but then he decided that this would be too much drama, even for him.
* * *
“Ada Elladan! Ada Elladan! You must come, quickly!”
Eldanar pulled impatiently at Elladan’s leggings, interrupting the discussion of the two brothers.
“Why are you here, Eldanar? I told you to go to bed,” Elladan chastised his young son. The child, clad in his favourite ducky pyjamas and clutching his toy dragon Tathar close to his chest, looked a little guilty, and shuffled his feet.
“I went to bed, ada, but you did not say that I should stay there.”
Elladan rolled his eyes.
“You will make an excellent diplomat one day, Eldanar.”
“Will you come now, ada? And you too, uncle Elrohir. I must show you something!”
With that, the Elfling ran towards his room. Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, then shrugged simultaneously and followed the child.
Eldanar had climbed on to the windowsill, and pointed excitedly out of the window.
“You must tell him not to go, ada!” he cried.
The twins stepped to the window and looked out of it. A tall figure was crossing the garden, heading for the forest. The long, dark hair was flowing in the wind.
Elrohir gasped, and pressed his hands to the cold glass of the window.
“Did he say anything, Eldanar?” he asked, not taking his gaze from Námo.
Eldanar nodded.
“Yes, he said he had to go, but that you would see him again one day.”
Námo had halted. He turned around, and looked up to the window where Elrohir stood, gazing longingly at the former Vala of Death. He smiled at Elrohir, and the Elf thought he had never seen such a beautiful and yet terrible thing before. Námo rose his hand and waved shortly at Elrohir, then he disappeared, like morning fog once the sun comes out.
* * *
“So, let me sum this up. This king of yours has Elves for pets? Like... cats or canaries?”
Elcallon nodded, and Feronil continued to pace the room up and down.
“Could he not have got himself a guinea pig like everyone else?”
“What is a guinea pig?” Elcallon asked, and Feronil groaned.
“A cousin of this Elf here,” he said, pointing at Melpomaen. “But his family is of secondary interest now. Orophin was left behind in a dungeon?”
Elcallon confirmed this.
“In a dungeon deep inside the bowels of the palace?”
“Yes,” Elcallon replied.
Feronil pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Wonderful. Brilliant. Just splendid. So Orophin sits in a dungeon deep inside the bowels of a palace that, I have to add, has more guards than the Lady Galadriel’s broom closet. And all I have to get him out of there is an Elf who does not know what a guinea pig is, an Elf who has the brains of a guinea pig, lice-boy here and my brilliant, razor-sharp mind.”
He flopped down on his bed and buried his face in his hands.
“Oh you Valar up there, down here, or wherever it is that you dwell at the moment, what have I got myself into? I am a genius, but still I am at loss here. I need your help!”
There was a knock on the door, interrupting Feronil's lament. Melpomaen started and looked at Feronil with big, fearful eyes.
“Great. Probably the chambermaid with the royal guard in town. With my luck, she will bring more children with head lice along. What a day…”
He dragged his tired body up from the bed, then went to the door and opened it.
An Elf of stunning beauty stood outside. He was dressed from head to toe in white hunter’s garb, and his silver blond hair, not unlike the Lady Galadriel’s, was decorated with tiny white flowers, bathing him in a sweet, lovely scent.
Feronil stared, and the stranger gave him a blinding smile.
“Well met, Master Feronil. My apologies for the delay. Now please tell me – how may I be of assistance?”
* * *
Author's notes: long time no see, dear readers! Real life was interfering in a most unpleasant way. But now I am back, the story is finished, and you will be able to read the last parts very soon. Thank you for your patience.
* * *
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