"I have news," said Lainion as he dried his long black hair with a towel, watching Legolas as he prepared the evening meal.

Lainion's flet was simple but efficient, comfortable even, but there was no space left unused, and now he sat at the long table before the hearth which he used for cooking.

The smell made his mouth water and he poked his head over the rim of the earthenware pot that bubbled over the wood fire.

"Rabbit?"

"Aye, with some mushrooms I picked up. You're hungry!" said Legolas with a grin that did nothing to convince Lainion that the boy was calm and in control, as was obviously his intent; indeed it was all too clear he was bursting at the seams for the news Lainion brought from the city.

"Hungry, yes," he smiled back, "almost as much as you for the news I bring," he grinned lopsidedly as he watched the stew ooze out of the ladle and into his bowl, the aromatic steam hitting him full in the face.

"Thyme and rosemary..." said the Avari with relish, his eyes half-closed as he inhaled noisily.

"Aye Lainion!" chuckled Legolas. "You are cruel and I will die if you do not tell me... I cannot fool you."

"Peace, Silvan boy! Come sit and I will tell you. There is good news, and there is - not so good news.

Which will you have first?" he asked, before shovelling a spoonful of stew into his watering mouth, unsurprised that Legolas made no move to eat his own dinner.

"Alright. We have a new mission."

"What? Where! When do we leave!" came the frantic questions, but Lainion held up his hand for silence.

"It will surprise you..."

"Out with it!"

"Imladris. We ride to Imladris."

Legolas stared dumbly at Lainion and the lieutenant was not surprised. It did not make much sense to anyone save those that had planned it so.

"Imladris? What - why?" he asked in consternation.

"It may seem strange to you now, but this is an opportunity you should embrace, Legolas. Prince Handir travels there to study under the Noldo Councillor Erestor, of whom you may have heard. With him travels a caravan of twenty warriors. It has been decided that the best novices from their promotion may travel with the caravan, and stay in the land of the Noldo for six months, to study warfare, as a boon for their efforts ..."

Legolas sat back and Lainion knew he did not quite know how to take the news. He wondered too, for a moment, if the boy had seen the subterfuge for what it was.

"Six months? But - but are there any orcs there? Spiders? I do not wish to sit idly for so long, surely this is a mission for the home guard, more of a procession almost, than a patrol. I am a fighter, not a ceremonial guard!" he finally shouted, his hands flapping in the air as if he could somehow draw the scene that seemed to play out before him.

"Legolas. There are more than enough foul things that way for the both of us, and in answer to your queries, only the best travel with our royal family. You should be honoured."

"I am, I suppose, but - but six months!"

Lainion laughed then. Still a child, he realised, at least in some things. "Legolas, think. Six months to learn - do you not know who resides there?"

"The Noldor, aye. There will be veteran warriors there, but we have them here too, Lainion. Good warriors I could learn from. You, Turion, Hûron..."

"But we, do not have him..." said the Avari as he ate his stew, grinning at the question he knew would come.

"Who is he?" asked Legolas, perplexed.

Putting his spoon down, Lainion leaned forward and held Legolas' gaze. "He - is Glorfindel - of Gondolin," this last word he whispered for effect and Legolas' eyes widened in awe."

"You jest, you -"

"I do not jest, boy. Glorfindel of Gondolin is Imladris' general. He will teach you the art of warfare. Does that not change everything?"

"I, I, Lainion, I ..." he flapped.

His stuttering was interrupted by scandalous laughter, for Lainion had never seen the boy so impressed. It was entertaining.

"Lainion," said Legolas, visibly attempting to pull himself together. "I will be taught by Glorfindel of Gondolin? The real one, not some other elf...?"

"Yes," said the lieutenant, as if it was obvious. "There is more though..."

The boy sat unceremoniously, raking his hand through his hair and Lainion took pity on him.

"You did not quite understand what I said earlier when I spoke of the wherefore of your inclusion on this journey. You see, I did not say the best novices were to travel with us, I said 'the best novices from their promotion'...would travel. You have been granted the status of warrior, Legolas..."

Legolas' mouth opened as if he would speak, but he closed it once more. "I am a warrior?" he asked flatly, his eyes unblinking.

"A warrior, of His Majesty's Woodland Militia, the youngest we have," said Lainion with a proud smile.

Legolas stood slowly. "I am a warrior," he whispered, his eyes misty, green irises glinting in the failing light and Lainion was reminded of the portrait of Oropher he had stood before in Aradan's offices.

"You will take your vows soon enough, there is no rush. For now, you have ten days to prepare for our journey."

"I am a warrior of the Greenwood, and I will be trained by Glorfindel of Gondolin... wait, our journey?" he asked, whirling round to face Lainion once more.

"Oh yes," he said with a cheeky smile. I managed to get myself reappointed as Prince Handir's personal guard. I would not interrupt your training so soon, Legolas. True we will not be together as such, you will ride with the troop and I at the fore with our Prince, but..."

"Together? But that is wonderful!

"...and, you will be reunited with your Company. Idhrenohtar and Ram en' Ondo travel with you, as newly appointed warriors like yourself."

His smile was so radiant and his eyes so full of joyful tears that Lainion stood, he himself unable to stop his own smile from splitting his face almost in two, the welling emotion making it impossible for him to continue eating.

"Thank you," whispered Legolas. "Thank you for this. You have not said it but I know you have made it so, for me. I do not know how I have been so lucky to meet you, nor why I feel I must make you proud of me but I do..."

"'Tis I who should thank you, for with you came this change in my monotonous, aimless existence. You have returned to me my sense of purpose, given my life meaning beyond my own existence. We have much to do together, Legolas, if you would have my guidance."

Legolas stepped forward and clasped the Avari's forearms with his strong hands. "Then you must be a part of my company, for only those I consider my brothers can be a part of it. It is the family I never had..."

"I would be honoured then," smiled Lainion, and then laughed. "You will have to find me one of those fancy names!"

"Fear not, for I already know what I will call you," said Legolas slyly.

"Oh? And what would that be?" asked Lainion with a quirk of his brow.

"You are an elf of few words and great deeds. You speak little but say much... you, are Dimaethor, the Silent Warrior."

Lainion stared back at Legolas blankly, before slowly smiling and nodding. "It is well chosen. I shall be Dimaethor, Dima the Avari!" he proclaimed pompously and Legolas grinned.

"Welcome then, brother of The Company - now we are four."

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

A week had passed, and Lainion had fallen into the routine of riding into the city in the morning, and then instructing Legolas personally, on the protocol and logistics of the journey ahead. He had told him of Celegon, the Commander General, warned him of the warrior's badly veiled prejudice towards the Silvan warriors. He had instructed him on his uniform and armour, how to care for it and when to use his helmet. He had even given the boy history lessons on the Noldor; not that he had been completely ignorant, but neither was he well-informed. He had spoken of Elrond, of Erestor and Glorfindel, of Lindir and Melpomaen, of Gildor the Wanderer and the Lord's own twin sons ... he had even spoken of Mithrandir, who was often found in the lands surrounding the Bruinen. Lainion had also taught him of men, for they would surely traverse their lands at some point during their stay.

Legolas had been fascinated by it all, and had avidly tucked away the information, but most of all Lainion knew the boy was beside himself with the prospect of meeting Glorfindel of Gondolin. Lainion had not met him, but Turion knew the mythical warrior well, and had made a point of telling Lainion that Glorfindel had been close with Oropher; there would be no fooling him. But then, what would it matter, for by the time they arrived in Imladris, there would be no more secrets ...

He thought then, of the conversation that had followed their briefing. It had been long and intense, and Lainion confessed to being somewhat confused at Prince Handir's stance concerning his brother, his Silvan brother. At times he seemed amenable to easing the boy's situation, and at others he seemed to go out of his way to convince them that he did not care. Lainion was not fooled, he did care, but he could not decide whether that care was for good or for bad.

He would soon find out, he scoffed to himself. And then he remembered his own musings, the ones that had been so hotly contested, especially by Aradan, who had been adamant. Lainion had questioned the necessity of drawing the secret out, had brought up the possibility of telling the boy now, rather than on the road, for where he agreed that the king should be told whilst Legolas was out of his or others' reach, it was not strictly true for the boy. Turion however, had speculated that the impact of the truth could unhinge him. He may run off, away, or even to his father, confront him; he could ruin his blooming career as a warrior for what erroneous deeds his emotions may cause him to commit. Nay they needed to choose a time in which Legolas would have no choice but to stay where he had been sent, and then rely on his friends to keep him on the straight road, to anchor him to the here and now.

Lainion was still not entirely convinced, but he would not go against the majority. He was a warrior and in that he was wise, but Aradan was shrewder, more able to predict the reaction of others, especially those of the court and its convoluted intrigues. Legolas would be in danger, he had said. Until the time they could ascertain the impact of the appearance of a bastard son to the king, he should stay away, and be as discreet as he possibly could until such time as the Greenwood had digested the information.

Maybe he was right. Who was he to know the minds of Lord Bandorion, or Barathon, of the noble Sindar houses? How far would they go to discredit the Silvan people in favour of their own benefit? Court intrigues were not his strong point and never would be.

Yet every time he looked at the boy, every time he looked at this young elf that would, one day, be his superior, he just wanted to tell him, and then help him accept it, so that he could get on with his life, finally know who he was, his family, and the sad story behind his own existence, not to depress him but to give him closure and set him upon the path towards his destiny.

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

Three days before their departure, Lainion arrived from the city a little earlier than he normally did, his arms full of bundles and packages.

Depositing his heavy load upon one of the small beds, he shook his arms and clapped Legolas upon the shoulder. "Your new uniform! You have two of everything. Try it on and tell me if anything needs fixing, and shine your boots and your armour!"

"Yes sir!" shouted Legolas with a bright smile, approaching the bed as a child does on Yule morning.

Lainion simply chuckled as he walked into the kitchen. A knock on the door distracted him though, and so he opened it, only to find Calen, a local marketeer and friend.

"Lainion! I was told you were back - how are you my friend!" he asked jovially as he entered and sat himself down at the kitchen table. "You look well and so I am assuming you were not skewered in the field, for which I am very grateful!"

"Not a scratch, Calen. Although the same cannot be said for the land towards the South. Blackness is spreading over the trees - we will not be able to hold it back for much longer," he said solemnly, before shaking his head and smiling. "But now, this is not the time for my melancholic mood. How are you, my friend? Still dazzling the ladies with your witty banter?"

"Of course! You know I am the handsomest elf round these parts," and then he stopped abruptly as Legolas entered with a smile on his face. "Well, the second handsomest," he muttered as he watched the Sinda lad approach them and nod in his direction.

"By all that is sacred, he is the spitting image of Lassiel..."

Legolas scowled and Lainion's heart skipped a beat. "Uh, yes, yes he does, it's the eyes I think," he said a little too quickly.

"Are you related, to Lassiel I mean?" asked Calen, his head cocked to one side as his silver eyes roved over Legolas' face, his hair, his eyes.

"Not that I know of, sir. I never knew my family," he said simply.

"Ah well, that is a pity," said Calen, and Lainion did not miss the sideways glance his friend shot him.

Thankfully, Legolas said nothing and Lainion was desperate to change the subject and so he began his tale of their journey into the South-west, pulling Legolas in with him, and soon enough, the three were talking animatedly, thanks in no small part, to the wine that Lainion had placed before them.

But the Avari was experienced enough to know that Calen had not been fooled. Lainion would have to speak to him, for he loved his friend dearly, but discretion was not one of his strong points.

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

Only two days now, Legolas reminded himself as he wallowed in bed. It was still dark outside, but dawn lurked on the horizon. Two more days and his life would change yet again. He was excited, nervous, apprehensive - there were so many emotions he suddenly decided he did not know how to feel.

He had wanted to continue serving in the South, but destiny had pushed him down a different path, a path that led to the finery and wisdom of the Noldor - Imladris! It had never crossed his mind, yet when he reminded himself of the advantages that Lainion had pointed out to him, the twinge of disappointment promptly disappeared.

Six months was not so bad, he mused. He would improve his sword play, for work with the short swords had progressed well after he had spent all those months investigating and researching the technique once used in Gondolin no less. He wondered then if Glorfindel would know of it. Legolas had incorporated it into his own training routine, but he had no one to practice with, no one to improve the skill with. Of course he would know, he scoffed. He is Glorfindel - he would know it all - he would make Legolas the best warrior he could be! His faith was blind and he knew it, but he did not care. He was all Legolas could ever aspire to being.

He envisaged himself training in the mornings with Glorfindel, and then studying in the afternoons. There would be new lands to explore, trees to marvel at, a whole new culture to learn of. Perhaps he would learn their dances too, for Legolas loved to dance.

It all suddenly seemed a massive challenge and it made him feel small again, insecure. The questions would start all over again. Who is your father? Are you Silvan? You look Sindarin...

He closed his eyes and quelled his mounting irritation. He could handle it, he had proved to himself that he could - all he needed to work on was controlling his temper... He had nothing to be ashamed of. He was the youngest warrior the Greenwood had, Lainion had told him just yesterday.

And then not two days hence, he would be back in the company of Idhreno and Ram en'! He smiled, wide and genuine; it was enough and he sprung out of bed, dressed in his new uniform, braided his hair and headed for the kitchen, pulling up abruptly as he came face to face with Lainion, whose face was now but inches from his own.

"I will be back early evening. I want you in full uniform, armed and ready for me at the twentieth hour."

Legolas scowled at him, and then opened his mouth to ask why in the name of the Valar he would ask such a thing, but Lainion gave him a curt nod and strode away, bound for the court, leaving behind him a thoroughly puzzled Legolas.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he left for the kitchen, for his stomach rumbled and the day was beautiful. He had much to do and even more to think on, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, it was all good.

Lainion, the silent and mercurial Avarin lieutenant, galloped away with a sly smile upon his face, yet if one looked closely enough, they would also have seen a hint of mischief, for the Avari had a secret ...