Dreams of Power [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Breakfast of Champions

The sun was shining brightly through his window when he awoke the next morning. Aderthon stretched as he stood, slipping on a simple shirt over his bare chest so he could eat breakfast with the hobbits before getting ready. He could already hear them mucking about in the kitchen.

“Smells good!” He smiled as he left his bedroom and found Merry and Pippin hard at work.

“Kettle’s already hot, sausage and eggs are cooking.” Merry bustled about, his grey hair bouncing as he spun.

Aderthon grinned. “I'll make us some tea, then”

“Sounds good to me,” Pippin nodded happily as he set out plates, forks, and knives.

As Aderthon made the tea, he also began humming a little tune his mother used to sing. Merry and Pippin stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

“We taught her that one, you know,” Pippin told him. “The one about the man in the moon?”

Aderthon raised his head from his intense water pouring to look at them. “I never knew that.”

Merry nodded. “It's an old hobbit tune. It's heard all over the Shire and Bree. Good pub song.” He set out poppy seed cakes as Pippin took over at the stove.

“Alright!” Pippin grinned widely, “who wants to eat!”

They ate together merrily, laughing and talking about their experiences with Míril and Elrohir. Of the hobbits, Merry and Pippin had been closest to the descendent of Fëanor, and later her husband. Aderthon, for his part, loved hearing the tales of his parents from the War of the Ring. Often he would all but beg the hobbits for more stories.

But as time went on and breakfast was finished, Aderthon stood and thanked them. He went to help clean up, but the hobbits stopped him.

“The least we can do for you is clean up breakfast.” Merry laughed. “You're already sharing your house and time.”

Aderthon thanked them and went back into his room to change. He strapped on his leather armor, black with red cloth accents. On his back he swung his cape, scarlet with the White Tree. The difference between his own and the others was the color; Aragorn had given it to him in commemoration of his heritage as being of the House of Fëanor. Last of all he attached Galmegil to his side, slipping it into its black and mithril inlaid scabbard.

“I'll be back in a few days,” Aderthon reminded the hobbits as he walked through the kitchen. “Don't burn my house down.”

They laughed and waved goodbye as he trotted out into the streets. The stables for the royalty was nearby, and soon he was leaping upon his grey stallion. Histo, Dusk, was his name. A powerful, medium weight horse built like a champion, Histo loved to adventure. Aderthon felt bad he could not show the horse more than Minas Tirith to Dol Amroth.

With his shining red cape flowing behind him, Aderthon started off down the streets through the stronghold. He would his way through the small crowds, smiling at children as they looked upon the royal half-elf in awe. Soon enough, however, he was clear and began down the road that led to Amon Loth.

Even alternating a walk and a gallop, Aderthon spent many hours on the road. The sun was setting by the time he reached the outskirts of the elven settlement. Two guards stood there, eyes blue and hair blonde like most Silvan elves.

“Greetings, friends!” Aderthon smiled and dismounted Histo. “I am Aderthon, of the House of Fëanoriel. I am on a mission from King Elessar and must speak to Lord Legolas.”

“Straight through. His house is in the circle. Ask for directions if you cannot find it.” The guard on the left pointed him in.

Aderthon bowed and thanked them. A huge hill, covered in wild flowers, sloped upwards. At the top was a pavilion. Houses were spread all along the base, reaching as far as Aderthon could see. He had been to Amon Loth a few times before, but never as deep inside as he would be going now.

There were many elves wandering about, and some cast him curious glances. Aderthon bowed his head and smiled whenever he made eye contact. Leading Histo forward, he followed a small pebbled path deeper into the settlement. Lamps lined the pathway, and small gardens dotted the land to either side around the houses.

At last he came to a circle of houses, and at the far side was one larger than the rest, slightly set apart. Aderthon also found a small stable. He left Histo in there.

He wandered slowly up to the door of the house. Hesitating slightly, he finally gave two quick knocks. Soon enough, the blonde elf lord came to the door.

“Aderthon!” Legolas looked at him in surprise. “My friend, come inside. Please!”

Aderthon smiled. “Thank you, lord.” He followed Legolas inside and took a seat on a comfortable couch.

“Now tell me, what brings you to Amon Loth? It has been many years since your last visit.” Legolas brought out a tray of small seed cakes and began boiling water.

“Aragorn sent me,” Aderthon admitted. “He requests that you dispatch someone to act as an emissary in Minas Tirith.”

Legolas nodded. “Ah, yes. He sent me a letter a few weeks ago about this. I've been giving it thought.”

“And?” Aderthon took a sip of herbal tea Legolas handed him.

“I agree. I just couldn't decide the correct person for the job right away. But I think I have someone in mind now.” Legolas chuckled as Aderthon yawned. “But come, it is time you sleep. You rode all day, get some rest.”

Aderthon laughed. “Only a fool would say no to that invitation.”

Legolas led Aderthon out of his house and into the circle. Beside Legolas’ own were four guest house, one bedroom room each, with his in the middle. He took Aderthon to the closest in the left.

“Sleep well, my friend,” Legolas bowed to him. “I will come get you in the morning.”