~Lasriel and Legolas go to Minas Tirith to ask Aragorn for money. Lasriel is told to stay put. She doesn't obey...~

~♕~

"If watchin' is all you're gonna
do, then you're gonna watch your
life go by without ya."

– Laverne, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

~♕~

21. Capital

Fascinated, Lasriel looked at the beautiful, white buildings on either side of the cobbled street; Minas Tirith was a breathtaking city. It had an unusual design where layers of concentric, walled circles rose one above the other in a conical shape, with a gate between each one.

The houses were built in various styles and materials, and Lasriel took mental notes about what she liked and what was less pretty. In only minutes she had her own future house planned out in detail. It would be tall, at least two storeys, with a large, pillared porch and many balconies, and arched windows everywhere to maximize the natural light inside. The roof would be flat, perhaps with plants like many of the Minas Tirith houses had, and with a round turret in the middle which would offer a view of the surroundings in all directions.

Thinking about how wonderful it would be filled Lasriel with eager anticipation. She longed to return home and finish the bricks so she could start building. But first things first; she would make the most of this visit and explore every corner of the big city to learn all there was to learn about house building.

They were met by Gimli outside the Old Guesthouse, where they would stay the night, and Lasriel was pleased to see how happy the reunion made Legolas. For some reason he had been in a foul mood the whole journey, barely speaking except for in monosyllables, and even scolding his horse on one occasion. After meeting his best friend he became more himself.

"I must be off again to oversee my team, but I shall see you at Aragorn's dinner tonight and then we can catch up." Gimli gave him another rough embrace. "Enjoy your stay."

Legolas then led the way into the stone building. It was a busy place, with lots of people – mostly men – and the innkeeper had only managed to find two rooms for them, one for the guards and one for Legolas and Lasriel.

When carrying her bag inside, Lasriel regarded the stout four poster bed appreciatively. Finally she would get to spend more than a few minutes with Legolas in bed.

They had lunch in the busy public room, a tasty rabbit stew with dark, hard bread that one was supposed to dunk in the stew, served with strong ale. It was delicious and Lasriel scraped her plate clean.

"I must leave you alone for the day," Legolas said, wiping beer foam off his lips. "I need to speak with King Elessar about a few matters. But don't worry, there will be a guard left to protect you."

"Can't I come?"

"It will not interest you."

Lasriel wanted to snap at him that he wouldn't know what interested her, considering he never asked and that they never talked about anything important. "I want to see the city and the famous library," she said instead.

"I will take you out afterwards, and you have dinner at the palace to look forward to as well." He gave her riding outfit a critical look. "There will be many fine lords and ladies there so I suggest you use the meantime to put on a nice dress and make yourself pretty."

Rather annoyed, Lasriel watched him leave. But thankfully she was resourceful; she could easily outsmart the guard and go out on her own. If she wore her hood up she would look like a human and not draw attention.

It was not only the famous library that attracted her; she really wanted to learn more about building, and already in the short way from the city gate to the inn she had seen several houses under construction. There had been a big battle here not long ago and the city was still in repair. Lasriel figured the builders might be able to help her with the only thing the dwarf Cheery had not taught her, namely how to glue bricks together.

It was not hard to sneak out. She told the guard she would be in her room reading, but instead left through the window. Thankfully Legolas' and her room was on the first floor.

There was a small lawn outside, and she ran across it swiftly, hoping the guard wouldn't look out – but she was lucky. She reached the main street without misfortune and started walking in the direction it seemed most others were going.

The day was warm for winter, especially with the tall buildings sheltering from the wind, and Lasriel enjoyed herself immensely. After making bricks daily for weeks it was a welcome change to amble along the busy street and look at everything; the buildings, the people, the stalls, the odd dogs and colorful birds on the porches she passed.

Soon she found where the people were heading to: a large court which appeared to be a permanent marketplace; the stalls were more solid than the ones in Osgiliath. But much as she would have liked to remain there and explore everything at length, Lasriel didn't think she had time to linger before Legolas returned. Instead she set her eyes on an area beyond where the sound of hammers and sawing indicated it was exactly the kind of place she sought.

Sure enough, after the marketplace she came to a part of the city that must have been completely demolished in the war. The street was dusty and littered with debris, and workers walked purposefully this way and that, many of them dwarves. Wooden skeletons of what would become walls and ceilings towered above, and next to them other houses were constructed of layers of bricks. Many of the bricks were black as if burned by fire, and formed a spotted pattern when they were put together with clean bricks. They must be reusing materials from ruined, war-scarred buildings to create new ones.

Lasriel examined the joint between the bricks in one of the houses. It had an interesting, gray color.

A man in worker's clothes came over and bowed politely. "Can I help you, miss?"

"I'm very interested in building techniques. Do you know what this joint was made of?"

The man seemed surprised by the question, but readily replied. "Aye, miss, I do. This is Mordor mortar, as we call it. It's volcanic ash mixed with lime. Discovered it by accident the other year and now we build everything with it. Resists water, cold, drought, everything, does this baby." He patted the wall fondly. 

"And is it expensive? I mean, if one was looking to buy some?"

The man grinned, exposing several missing teeth. "Not at all. Since Mordor was liberated there is volcanic ash to supply the entire Middle-earth for centuries, if needed."

Pleased, Lasriel continued to ask building-related questions, and rather than becoming annoyed that she interrupted his work he seemed happy to oblige and explained at length everything she wanted to know.

Others were drawing closer as well, until a small crowd of men had formed, and to Lasriel's surprise each one was more eager to answer her questions than the other.

She could hardly believe her luck. This was just what she needed – to meet experts who had been building houses all their lives and learn the dos and the don'ts from them directly. She forgot that she was supposed to be secretive and hide who she was, and told them how she made bricks in the new Ithilien colony and what she planned to use them for.

That gave her an explanation for their uncommon courtesy and attention.

"The elvish colony?" said the first man, who she now knew was foreman in one of the construction companies, a widower from Lossarnach named Mallor. "Well, that explains it..." His eyes were drawn to the hood covering her hair – and her pointed ears.

"An elf! No wonder you are both so clever and so beautiful, miss," said another, a young, gangly fellow who blushed furiously as soon as the words had left his mouth.

Lasriel knew she ought to correct him and say she was in fact not a miss, but for some reason she didn't. The men's open admiration and interest was flattering; nobody had ever looked at her like that before.

So instead she continued talking, allowing her new friends to guide her around the area and show her the various constructions and buildings where they worked, both half-finished and completed ones. They even let her try some bricklaying with the Mordor mortar, and her audience eagerly cheered her on though her joint was nowhere near as even and smooth as a professional masons'.

She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so appreciated and had that much fun.

In the middle of a conversation about window shapes, a familiar voice interrupted, sounding nearly strangled with emotion. "Lasriel! I have been looking for you everywhere!" Legolas came running with two guards in tow, his face as ashen as a mortar joint.

"Oh. Eh, hi there. Master Mallor, this is my husband. And Legolas, these are my new friends. Master Mallor has been very helpful, and..." Her voice died when she saw Legolas' face change from colorless to crimson.

"Pleased to meet you, gentlemen," he said in a tone that sounded anything but pleased. "It is time to go home, dear," he continued, but wasn't looking at Lasriel when he offered her his arm.

She gave Pallor and the others an apologetic look. "Thank you for your help, all of you."

"Don't mention it, madam."

"It was our pleasure."

"Welcome back anytime!"

During the swift walk to the Old Guesthouse Legolas didn't say a word, but Lasriel could feel how tense his arm was under her fingers. She knew he was furious. But why? She had not been gone for very long, and she had not disturbed his important meeting either.

As soon as they were alone in their room, Legolas swatted away her hand from his arm like it was dirty. "I can't believe you went out alone despite what I said!"

Her mouth had gone too dry to reply.

"And to such a disreputable area too! Allowing such... men near you. They could have– They..." He walked over to the window, leaning against the windowsill while drawing a deep breath. "They could have hurt you."

"They were nice," Lasriel objected lamely. "Kind and polite. There was no danger at all."

"You should have seen the way they looked at you." He sounded disgusted. "Positively drooling."

Her cheeks heated. She had noticed, but what was wrong with their interest? Elves always made an impression on men, everyone knew that, and these had been extra impressed because she liked building just like them. She hadn't encouraged them and they had not done anything improper. On the contrary.

"Get dressed for dinner. We ride to the palace in an hour; I will wait for you in the public room." Legolas slammed the door behind him.

The ride to the palace was not better than the walk earlier; Legolas spent it in sullen silence and Lasriel fidgeted with the lace on her dress wondering whether it was pretty enough for a king and his fine guests.

At the sixth level of the city they dismounted and the horses were taken to a stable by waiting servants while they continued the last way on foot. When Lasriel entered the topmost gate, some of the dismay left her; this part of the city was breathtaking. Stunned, she regarded the elegant buildings: the grand palace, the impossibly tall tower of Ecthelion, the Great Hall of Feasts, and of course the round, green court outside with the famous white tree.

The servant who led the way told Lasriel the story of the tree. The original came from a seed of another white tree in the long lost realm of Númenor before it sank into the ocean, and had been brought to Minas Tirith by Isildur, the first High King. The present tree was its offspring and the fourth tree of Gondor. It was still very young and slim, planted shortly after the war, and though this time of year its branches were bare it would soon bloom with fragrant flowers.

"It only bears blossoms when a true king sits on the throne," the servant said. "For many years our fair city was ruled by stewards, and we didn't find a new tree until the king had returned. After Elessar was crowned the tree bloomed for the first time, and since then it does so every spring."

Not far from the tree was an arrow-shaped viewpoint with a spectacular outlook over the lower levels of the city and the rolling farmlands that surrounded it all the way to the dark, curved line that was the Anduin. Jagged mountain peaks separated Ithilien from Mordor, and at their feet the many rooftops of Osgiliath spread out on both sides of the river. In the south Lasriel spotted Faramir's half-finished residence, and between that and Osgiliath lay the simple colony that had become her home.

Legolas pulled her away from the railing. "Come; we will be late."

The king and queen met them at the entrance to the Hall of Feasts, greeting them in the elvish way with a bow rather than the humans' customary handshake. Lasriel was surprised to discover that Elessar even looked like an elf, though his dark beard indicated he was in fact a man, and his wife also looked elvish though Lasriel knew she was half-elven and had chosen a mortal outcome, meaning she would grow old and die eventually.

The hall itself was grand, with a domed ceiling far up, supported by slim pillars. A warm evening light spilled in through the many arched windows, and more light flooded from golden chandeliers on long chains.

They were assigned seats among a group of finely dressed men with their even finer wives, and Lasriel cast a longing look at the corner where Gimli and a few other dwarves seemed to have a great time and had already started on the ale. In Lasriel's and Legolas' part of the table there was only wine, and an obscene amount of forks and knives were set around their silver plates.

When the first course was served, Lasriel chose one of the forks and began to eat. At least it tasted good, though she would have preferred a bigger portion.

Legolas nudged her, a little too roughly. "Wrong fork," he whispered, slowly picking up the correct one from his own set.

Sighing, Lasriel changed hers. Who cared what fork one used?

During the meal, Legolas became the unnatural, simpering version of himself she had noticed he used around people he wanted to impress. He spoke a lot about his afforestation project, exaggerating how well it went and how amazing the forest would soon be, and giving not-so-subtle hints about how expensive it would be to improve the landscape further. He spoke about future villas that could be built along the river where wealthy men might want to settle – perhaps as a summer home to invite one's friends to? Lush greenery of oaks and elms would frame the gardens and seclude them from nosy neighbors' eyes.

Lasriel listened, finally understanding the purpose of this journey. Legolas needed more money and hoped to make the king and these rich merchants and land-owners provide it. Why had he not told her? She might have been able to help.

After the last course, the masculine half of the assembled retreated to another room for stronger drinks and more conversation, while the ladies gathered in a corner of the hall to gossip. Lasriel stood in the outskirts, listening to them prattle about whose daughter was engaged to whose son and whose husband had made an advantageous trade deal or bought a new estate. Their lives seemed utterly dull if this was all they had to talk about.

Lasriel went over to one of the windows instead, admiring the same view as she had seen from outside, and then commenced to look at the many tapestries along the walls.

She was almost dying with boredom when the gentlemen finally returned. Now, Elessar informed them, there would be music and dancing.

Lasriel's mood brightened. Finally something a little less dull!

The musicians began and she listened with interest. Human music was quite different from what she was used to; the harmonies were strange but not unpleasant, and most of the melodies unknown to her. The dance too was different, but didn't seem hard to learn, so when one of the wealthy lords asked Lasriel to make him company on the dance floor she readily agreed.

The man was stocky and at least a head shorter than her, and his plump hand in hers was a bit damp, but he danced well and was actually quite funny. Whenever their steps took them past another couple he would provide her with a bit of gossip about them, and none of the boring kind the ladies had talked about, either. He told her interesting tidbits such as who had cheated with whom and who was secretly a gambler with huge debts.

When the dance was over, he bowed. "You are an excellent dancer, madam, but I would not expect less from an elf. Your husband is lucky to have such a beautiful wife."

Flattered, she returned the bow. "I enjoyed the dance, and the... educational conversation."

She had no time to speak more with him, however, because another man took over and asked her for the next dance.

Before replying, Lasriel looked around for Legolas. She much preferred to dance with him if she could.

At last she discovered him in a nearby corner with Gimli – but instead of talking with his friend he was looking at her, a deep frown creasing his forehead. Was he still angry about her going out earlier?

"Well, madam?" prompted the man, a youngish fellow with a neat beard and a silvery coat that reminded her of her father-in-law's elegant outfits.

She decided to accept; if Legolas was still angry she preferred to stay far away until he calmed down.

"It would be my pleasure, lord...?"

"Amrothos." He took her hand.

Amrothos was from a princedom in the south called Dol Amroth. Lasriel knew everything about that place and its history, but forced her face to look neutral while the man told her the tale of the elven king Amroth of Lothlórien and the fair Nimrodel whom he followed there and how they both perished in the waves.

"And ever since then, our country bears Amroth's name," he finished. "But I forget myself, are you not from the north, madam? Then of course you already know the story."

She smiled. "I do, but I enjoyed listening to your version. Everytime I hear someone tell the tale it is a little bit different." Mentally she added "...and never correct."

The dance continued and Amrothos changed topic. His sister was married to the King of Rohan, and now he described a journey there last spring where he had got to see their famous horse breeding grounds and hundreds of adorable foals.

"I wish I could travel the world as well," said Lasriel. "There are so many places I want to see."

"Ask your husband and I am sure he will take you there one day. Who could say no to such a beautiful, charming lady as yourself?"

She only smiled in reply, a bit embarrassed over all the compliments she was receiving lately and not sure what she was supposed to answer. But Amrothos seemed not to mind her silence, and when the music ended he promptly asked for another dance. "Being still unwed, I rarely have the pleasure of a lovely lady's company. I hope your husband can spare you a little longer."

"He cannot." Legolas had come up to them so silently Amrothos flinched in surprise.

Turning to Lasriel, he said in a voice that was more a demand than a question. "We left home long before sunrise; you must be tired. Shall we retire for the night?"

"I, uh, no, I could probably manage another dance..."

"Then allow me." He took her hand, pulling her with him to the dance floor without waiting for an answer.

A/N:

In the next chapter we get an explanation for Legolas' anger, though you have probably already guessed what's wrong. :)