Prompt: genderswap

[roselightfairy]

Posting this just so I can finally compile my bingo list!

This snippet sort of takes place in medias res of a longer story for which I have nothing written, no real plans, and not even a solid concept, but I really liked the idea and wanted to write a short fic. More Legolas and Eleniel, and I have this wild random notion that sometime well into Ithilien’s establishment they go off on a semi-undercover mission to somewhere in the North, maybe Rhun or something… maybe to check out the territory and get a sense of the attitudes in the area so that Aragorn can try extending diplomacy? (And now I feel like this kind of sounds like Aragorn is planning on colonizing, which I will NOT be writing.) It’s for friendly purposes only! Do I have any idea why or how? No. Do I have any idea how the language or general worldbuilding works? No. Did I come up with this thought solely so that I could write the following story?

…Well…

Miray and Omer were sitting in their small room tucked behind the inn entryway, Miray knitting and Omer half-dozing in his armchair, when the knock came.

Miray startled from her own state of lassitude at the sound, rare on a quiet winter evening. The nights were cold enough now that few of their neighbors stirred after the sun had gone down, and travelers were so infrequent during this season that most small inns in the area had closed their doors completely. Still, Azra had come more than once to visit or to bring over a loaf of bread or some other tidbit she had baked.

"I have it," Miray said to Omer, laying her knitting neatly aside and standing with a
creak of joints and a sigh as they settled into place.

When she pulled open the door, the air whirled in, biting cold on her cheeks and nose. But her startle and tiny "Oh!" was not at the shock of the cold, but rather at the unexpected sight on the doorstep.

Few people frequented their inn at this time in the winter; travelers through Köy were scarce enough that inns in these parts were rare as it was – and in the winter, even those few inns were forced to seek business in other pursuits, or put away enough during the summer that they could manage without travelers for the season. Miray and Omer were among the few whose doors remained open during the season, but they saw few enough travelers that they had begun to question even that.

But now, in the darkest, coldest part of winter, two dark-cloaked strangers stood on their doorstep, whispering to one another in voices too low for Miray to hear. When she opened the door, though, they stopped and looked up at her, shaking off their hoods so that she could see their faces.

At first glance they might have passed from travelers in the area, perhaps journeying from one village to the next. They had similar coloring to most this far east, brown skin and hair that blended into the night. But there was something about their features – a strange, angular cast – that was so different, so foreign, that Miray was suddenly sure they came from far away.

She stood silent for a moment longer than was polite, before at last scraping her manners together. “Good evening!” she said at last. “What brings you here?”

The two visitors glanced at each other, and one of them stepped forward. He must be the husband; his hair fell only to his cheekbones in a disheveled cut that only a travel-worn man could countenance, while his wife’s hung in a long braid down her back – and one side of his face was scarred in a way that could only mean he had seen some kind of battle. “Good evening,” he said in response. “We have been seeking a place to stay for the night, and hoped your inn might be available for visitors.” He cupped his pocket for a moment, and Miray heard the faint but promising jingle of metal.

“Of course, of course – Omer!” she called. “We have guests!”

She ushered them in – how they had managed so long in the biting cold, she could not fathom – as Omer made his way in from the sitting room, closing the door securely behind him and locking it to ensure that their personal space remained undisturbed.

“Well met,” he greeted their visitors, his face registering only a flicker of the same surprise that Miray had felt at their appearance. “You are welcome here for the night – or longer?”

The two visitors exchanged a look, and the unscarred corner of the husband’s mouth quirked. “Just the one night will do; we plan to be away with the dawn at the latest. What do you ask in exchange for your hospitality?”

“The price is usually two silvers,” Omer said, “but as we are ill-prepared for guests, we can offer no more than poor fare.” He always kept a cask of wine at the ready, and she usually prepared fresh bread, but as they had not seen visitors in a fortnight or more, they had been a bit lax in their preparations. The beer would be there, but they had only crusts left, and salted meat that would make for a supper best described as humble. “We would charge a copper for supper, but as we have little to offer, I will deduct that from the price.”

The husband laughed and shook his head. “No, we will pay the full price, and we have no need of supper; the room is all we require.” He fished around in his pocket and withdrew a few coins. When he passed them over, Miray could see that the scarring extended down his arm as well.

“We only ask to be paid half the night before,” Omer said, making to pass back one of the silver pieces the guest had given him, “as a guarantee of the quality of your stay.”

“Please,” the wife said at last. Her voice was lighter than her husband’s, more musical, as though she sang rather than spoke. “Keep it.”

Omer put up no further argument. Visitors were rare at this time of year, after all, and it was not uncommon to have guests who would attempt to slip out without paying the rest of their fee. “Very well,” he said, pocketing the money. “We thank you.”

The couple spoke little as Omer and Miray escorted them to their room, one of the few they kept maintained in the winter months. But their guests seemed to have no complaints with it, and the husband merely assured Omer one more time that they wanted for nothing.

“Do not trouble yourselves with supper or breakfast,” he said. “We ate on the road and will likely be away even before you wake in the morning.”

“Very well,” said Omer. “But do alert us if you or your wife want for anything.”

The husband and wife exchanged a brief, startled glance – and then the husband’s scarred face broke into a broad smile. “We certainly will,” he said.

…

As soon as the door closed between them and the innkeepers, Legolas and Eleniel looked at one another and burst out laughing.

“It is a new misunderstanding, at least,” said Legolas at last, shedding his cloak and tossing it over a chair. They had been mistaken for kin before – indeed, most who had not encountered elves of Eryn Lasgalen before had thought them siblings or cousins. “And even wrong in an unexpected way.”

Eleniel laughed again and tossed the cropped ends of her hair. “It must be my rugged good looks.” She shrugged out of her cloak as well and laid it over Legolas’s on the chair. “Well, it does no harm to let them keep their misconceptions – especially if it lets them think we are Men as well.”

“I suppose so.” They had been given strict orders from Faramir – well, as strict as Faramir’s orders ever came – not to draw undue attention to themselves while on the road. Hence, against Legolas’s own preferences, staying at an inn instead of traveling for the night or resting on the road. (Gimli had approved of the plan as well; for all he knew of elven endurance, he did not approve of Legolas’s tendencies to stay outside in weather this cold.)

“Well.” Eleniel tossed herself onto the single low bed, resting her head on one arm and extending the other to beckon. “Come to bed then, my wife.”

She tried for an eyebrow waggle, and Legolas could not help but laugh again – at her, this time. “Do not try for lewdness until you understand it yourself, husband mine.”

She made a face at him. “I will forgo that experience, if you don’t mind. Still.” She beckoned him again. “Since we have been ordered to find a bed for the night, we may as well use it. Come here.”

With no further argument, Legolas complied.

…

Miray and Omer slept in shifts that night, as they did when they had guests at short notice and had not been able to procure extra help. But their guests caused no disturbance – and despite all their careful listening, they did not hear when the visitors left in the morning.

But when Miray went up to check the room in the morning, she found the bedding folded neatly in the corner, and two more pieces of silver on the table.