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Tel' Lindar 33

What goes good on toast or Limericks fit for a beast.

***
There were woods... breeze non-existent... dark. The smell of old things, ancient insects of unknown species... The Forbidden Forest?
The Voyeur closed his eyes in disgust. This was over. It was supposed to be over. Did the Big Elf not accept...

***Merlin, still I do not accept. Why should the Big Elf?***

"What now?" The Voyeur patiently made his way down the path, ducking low-lying branches, eyes and ears watching, listening for any pitfall. "What could you possibly show me now?"

He was answered with a child-like giggle... sounds of swinging, noise, in the treetops.

"What game is this?" The Voyeur's movements became purposeful, moving with fluid grace through the heavy, oppressive air. "Elf. I am in no mood..."

"Not he, not he!" The voice answered, too child-like to be mocking; too ancient to be anything else.

The Voyeur's hand went to grasp his wand, only to remember it was useless in this world. "Show yourself."

From nowhere... everywhere... the annoying giggle continued. "Yew n'ready..."

"Oh, I think I am plenty ready, Elf." the Voyeur hissed maliciously. His fist was balled tight.

There was a rustling in the trees, as if an ape-like creature skittered from branch to branch. "No no. N'ready."

"Show yourself and stop playing this infernal game." The Voyeur's fingers were clenching tighter. "I have better things to do."

From nowhere, the Child descended from the trees, stopping suddenly in front of the Voyeur, slightly out of reach and suspended a foot from the ground. His hair was dark, blue eyes strangely spaced, a wide grin split his cherubic, freckled face. Short stubby fingers interlaced as he seemed to recline backwards in the air. "You are indeed interesting, Wizard." The voice that came from the child was deep, wise, venerable. Blue eyes sparkled with mirth. "One has no idea which way you will turn, or swing." As if to mimic his own words, he began to swing slowly back and forth. "The Valar wonder what choices you will make when the time comes."

"Choices?" The Voyeur sneered, his eyes darker than the deepest well of the night. "I have choices?"

"Oh, yes. You have many choices." The Child stopped suddenly, blue eyes darkening to midnight. "You should be extremely careful with some of the choices you make." It was an admonishment, but the Voyeur did not seem particularly interested in the Child's opinion.

"What choice must I make to rid myself of the Elf?"

The Child laughed. "That would be a poor choice indeed. He has much aid to give."

"He is a hindrance."

"He knows the way."

"According to her Nana-"

"Her Nana has her own agenda!" The Child was thunderous.

"So do your bloody Valar!" the Wizard reminded the Child, not so gently. "He is *in* the way!" The Voyeur finally lost his temper. "I cannot move forward because of his interference-"

"Do you not understand?" Finally, the Child stopped swinging and settled gently on the ground. "He is bound to her for eternity!"

"That is not my problem!"

"Yes," the Child whispered. "It is your problem." He reached out as if to touch the Voyeur's cheek, only to draw back. Strange, the Voyeur could swear he felt the grazing of the wind where the Child would have touched him. "He has much to teach you."

The Voyeur tucked long, slender fingers into crooked elbows. "You speak in circles and in riddles. You are as bad as he. What in all of Earth could he possibly teach me?"

"About unconditional love."

The Voyeur narrowed his eyes. "There is no such thing. You waste my time." He turned to leave the grotto-

-only to find the Child standing in front of him. "Yes, there is. There are gifts given in a bonding. Faith, trust, but the greatest is love. Unconditional love. No matter what, he is bound to love her. Unconditionally. And while she is bound to him... and loves him, she is also bound to you. She trusts you; she has faith in you. She loves you as well." The Child's eyes filled sorrowfully. "You have many choices to make. So much lies in your hands, yet you know it not."

The Voyeur leaned forward, hooked nose to pug nose with the Child. "What choice do I make to make him go away?"

The Child sighed. "Do not abandon her. Help her find her bow. He will leave... for a time."

"For a time." the Voyeur scoffed. "What a great cruelty to me."

The Child answered in kind. "A great cruelty to be sure. Turn around."

The Voyeur grimaced and circled...

To see the world in turmoil; fire and flames; grotesque beings roaming - raping, pillaging - Hogwarts destroyed, the world reduced to rubble and ash. Not a sound - not a living breathing soul - alive. He could smell the ash, the cinders scorching, burning the insides of his considerable nostrils.

In the middle of the deadly silence, a single, dark clad figure walked calmly through the death, blood, gore clinging to the hem of the Wizard's robes.

And following behind, giant, stories tall, with great spread wings, a being made of molten fire...

"What is that?" The Voyeur tried desperately to tear his eyes from the being, the scene and found he could not.

"That," the Child whispered, pained, "is the Last Balrog. The Dark thinks to control the Demon, but in the end, the Demon will have the Dark One." The Voyeur felt a cool hand on his and finally he was able to turn from the misery. He turned back into the coolness of the forest.

The Child was rising in the air again. "Do not abandon her, nor leave her to her own devices. There is healing in The Embrace."

"Healing? The Embrace?" The Voyeur spun on his heel, exasperated to the hem of his robes. "You are as full of riddles as the Elf."

The Child dropped from nowhere, hanging upside down, hair hanging away from his scalp.

"Oh yes! I forgot," he giggled. "Thranduil comes."

The Child disappeared, giggles echoing in the canopy of the trees

"Thranduil comes?" The Voyeur spun again, searching the trees...

To find himself standing in the middle of his bedroom chambers and hearing The Child whisper into the gloom...

Thranduil comes...Thranduil comes...Thranduil comes...Thranduil comes...

Dammit. Another bloody Elf.

***
I hate snow.

I hate Christmas.

I hate the merriment, the noise, the constant singing of carols.

Merlin, I wish she would stop singing. One should not sing constantly. Does she not breathe? How dare she be happy! How dare her family intrude? She and I have things to do! Have they offered to help? No! Well, unless it is help wrapping gifts, decorating more trees and more tress.

Severus scowled into the corner of his chamber. They had invaded his chamber - how dare they? - and despite his protestations, his threats, his...

Bah!

In the corner of his sitting area was a green fir tree, bedecked in silver ribbons and little potion bottles. Merlin, they had hung potion bottles on the branches.

Elves! Bloody Elves in his chambers, decorating his tree... His Tree... which he did not want to begin with, which had caused him to threaten her -

"You are going to threaten me with no sex?" Bronwyn hissed angrily. "After the stunt you pulled the other night? We'll see who makes who beg first! Neithadol!"

More elated squeals could be heard outside and a snowball hit one of the greasy panes of the window, rattling it in its frame.

A snowball fight. Lovely. She will come in with a runny nose and a fever and will expect me to sit by her bed and make her well so she can get up the next morning and do it again. Well, she can bloody well drown in her own snot!

Another snowball hit the pane.

That is it! I damn well cannot and will not take anymore!

Severus grabbed his greatcoat from the wardrobe and stormed from the dungeon.

***
"Mama! How many snow angels are you going to make?"

"As many as I have to make in order to beat Duncan!"

Giggling came from a snowbank and Bronwyn's head peered over the drift. "What? You think you can beat me?" More hysterical, childish giggling. "I don't believe it!" she muttered in feigned anger. "Mocking me! My son is mocking me!" Her eyes lit up with determination. "We'll just see about that!" With a loud yell, Bronwyn leapt up and pounced on the person in the nearby drift. Pealing shrieks of laughter carried on the wind and handfuls of snow flew into the air.

"Mama! Mama! Nooooo moe! ... Tickles... nooo... no..."

Severus appeared from nowhere, from the bowels of the castle, brandishing his wand and hexing snowballs amidst shrieks of laughter and half-hearted catcalls. He soon found himself standing next to a not-so-well-known figure.

Glorfindel.

The Balrog Slayer.

Of all the Elves Severus did not wish to meet, this one was living, breathing, walking proof that that damned husband of hers was quite capable of coming back...
And would the minute her bow was removed from the spawn's clutches...

For a moment, Severus reconsidered the thought, the idea of not allowing her to retrieve it, of allowing the Wizard to keep it. He could dose her with Dreamless Sleep potions, ward her rooms...

Bah.

Try as he might, he could not take a single step in that direction. The dreams had returned with a vengeance the night the Elves had left with the students. There had been horrid nightmares, like no others, the night before her children and family had shown up. Severus was coming to the wretched conclusion that the company of the Elves was hindering her descendant in some form or other, for the nightmares had stopped again once her family had returned.

"Would you be so kind as to stop grinding your teeth?" Glorfindel was smiling... damn it, he was always smiling. Smiling and not a warm layer of clothing on. Small wonder Bronwyn stayed sick, dressing in so little, thinking s he was an Elf as well. "I imagine your dentist could-"

The Dark Wizard silenced him with a single glare.

"Do you ever smile?"

"No."

"Pity." The Elf returned to watching the noisy snowball fight. "You should try it sometime." Both Elf and Wizard watched as Bronwyn pulled a laughing, over-sized child from the snowdrifts.

"What is wrong with him?"

"With Duncan?" Glorfindel asked. "There is nothing wrong-"

"Do not be obtuse," Severus gritted. "He is not right."

"Oh, you mean his uniqueness." Glorfindel chided innocently. "He has what the race of Man calls 'Down's Syndrome'."

Severus' mind flew, reaching through the files of information stored-

"That means he-"

"I know what it means." The two watched mother and child - that - would - never - grow - up cavort in the drifts. With sudden clearness, it dawned on him why this child had been left behind; why Bronwyn mourned his absence so very much. "Why on earth would your Valar saddle her with such a defective child?"

"Defective?" Eyes that had been bright and merry suddenly turned stormy and grey. "We do not see him as 'defective.' Bronwyn and Haldir never considered him as such. If anything, they considered him a blessing."

"A blessing?" The Wizard sniffed. "Only a fool who think-"

"Only a fool would consider him less." The Elf was beautiful to look upon, but was even more impressive when fully enraged. Severus could see how this one being could fight and defeat a demon so powerful...

A Balrog.

And if what he had gleaned from Bronwyn and others was correct, her husband rivaled the Elf in physical prowess.

"Perhaps," the Elf continued overly brightly and as if responding to a small child. "It would serve you well to get to know him before you judge. What you discover might shock you." He stepped forward, away from the bristling Wizard. "Ho, Bronwyn! If you wish to spar limericks with me over warmed mead and ale and roast mutton, you had best come in before -"

!Splat!

A largish, misshapen snowball hit the Elf square in the chest, trickles of pristine white marring the dark blue of his tunic. "Bronwyn," he continued calmly, brushing the wet stuff from his clothing, "that had your name written all over it."

"Not me," she claimed innocently. She pointed to the right. " 'Twas Faeowynne."

"Mother!" The tall, slender Elleth gasped in mock outrage. "You lie. You know very well it was Ellahan!"

The Elf - a carbon copy of the twin who sired him, lifted a single eyebrow. "I swear, Mother, after all these years, can you still not tell us apart?"

"Do not blame your poor aim on me!" His twin, Einion, pointed an accusatory finger at his brother. "Besides, I have it on good authority it was Rumil!"

"Rumil isn't even out here!"

"So?"

"Apparently," Glorfindel had an evil gleam in his eye, "I was wrong, Madam Bard. I do not believe you threw this snowball at all."

"You don't?" Bronwyn's fists were planted firmly on her hips.

"No. On second thought, the aim was too good." He raised a finger at her screeching. "I believe Duncan threw it at me." And with that pronouncement, the tall Elf bounded after the squealing child, tackling him to the snow.

"Nooo.... n'ma... Gorfy... nnnnoooo..." Peals of laughter rose amidst the churning tufts of snow.

Severus looked on the scene with disdain, a small snarl of disgust curling the edge of his lip. Was it him, or did Elves in general never grow up?

"Thank you." Severus looked down at the woman at his side. She wrapped her arms around one of his and smiled brightly, snow dusting her hair and eyelashes. "Don't deny it. You knew."

"You have ratted me out, Professor Powell," Severus replied smirking.

"This is really the best Christmas I could have dreamed of. I didn't think it possible. Thank you." Without warning, she bounced up on her toes and kissed him, lips lingering over his own. The quickness of her attack startled him, but he recovered and pulled her to him, deepening it, allowing her access. Slowly, too quickly, she broke away, pupils dilated, the fire within blazing, alight. "No more games, Severus."

"No," he agreed softly. "No more games." He reached and brushed the snow from her hair. "You are not covered properly," he tried to sound gruff, "and you will want me to 'whip something up' to make you well."

"Ah yes." Bronwyn tucked herself under his greatcoat, hugging him closer. "Severus Snape. Miracle Worker."

"Miracle Wizard, is more like it," he muttered, but he pulled her closer, reveling in the warmth of her.

A warm, electric current, gentle as it was sudden, charged between them. Bronwyn inhaled sharply. "Oh." Peals of laughter slowly died away, each individual acutely aware of the event taking place under Severus' greatcoat.

"Madam, what was that?" Severus tightened his grip.

"Something I have not felt in a long, long time." Bronwyn whispered back, her face buried in his chest. "Do it again."

Severus squeezed her, holding her closely, the current pulsing between them again. This was vaguely familiar...

Wait...

He remembered several months back, when she had shattered the glass in the tower, screaming at the heavens, grieving her losses. She had wasted herself, falling prone in her exhaustion and somehow, he had revitalized her...

Severus narrowed his eyes. 'I shall have to have a chat with that Elf, next time he invades my dreams.' He saw the wolf, bounding through the snow, playing with his brothers. 'Perhaps, I shall not wait that long...' Amadeus came to a halt, snow flying as he took in the scene; Bronwyn encased in Severus' coat, along with Severus. Over the resuming laughter, the snowballs flying, their eyes met, the Wizard pulling the woman closer within.

Seemingly safe, seemingly secure, seemingly content.

Seemingly.

The wolf sighed in resignation as he prepared to be broadsided by her youngest child.

"Is 'kay, A-da." Duncan whispered in his ear. "Is 'kay."

***

I hate snow.

I hate family get - togethers.

I hate family.

I hate *her* family.

I hate Elves.

I hate Elves in noisy pubs.

Most especially hate singing Elves in noisy pubs.

***

The Minute You Stalked Into Class (Boom Boom)
I Could See You Were A Man For Detention
A Real Professor
So Snarky, and Unrefined
Say, Wouldn't You Like To Feel My Hands Upon Your Behind...

to the tune of 'Hey Big Spender'
Many apologies to Jeannette Auer
Who gave me permission... somewhere, aloooong time ago...

***

Rosmerta was beside herself. When word spread that Elves had invaded her establishment and were making merry, all of Hogsmeade that was of age came out in droves, every available Wizard and Witch had made their way to the Three Broomsticks, eating, drinking...

... watching Bronwyn and Glorfindel try to drink each other under the table and out disgust each other; a display of bawdy limericks and ribald songs Severus never cared to hear again -

There once was a troubadour named Gibbon who did sing for a livin' I onced asked him why This was his reply "I just do it to meet horny women."

Bronwyn was in her element, lute in hand, happily embarrassing an unsuspecting Wizard or two. At one point, she had been sitting on Cor Dinglehopper's ancient lap, twirling her fingers in his beard and singing about 'May Mornings and singing in fields.' Bah! What shite! The old Wizard would not know what to do with the minuscule hard-on he no doubt achieved from Bronwyn squirming on his lap. Severus grinned cruelly. Then again, maybe he wouldn't drizzle piss on his shoes when-

"If that is what you call a smile, please do not do it often." The youngest brother of her husband, Orophin, whispered in Severus' ear. Blue eyes that were the same shade as his deceased brother's twinkled in unmasked mirth. Severus' grin became wolfish and he raised his whiskey glass to the Elf.

"I am known for my lack of humor."

"Do tell." The Elf slid closer. "What progress on her bow?"

Severus leaned over as if to impart a great secret. "None."

"Wha-"

"None. Whatsoever. No leads. No clues. No idea. If I had any idea, I would not tell you." Orophin's eyes narrowed, twinkle gone. "Did you realize that that wolf and that child-"

"Duncan."

"-are drinking butterbeer from the same mug?"

To Severus' amusement, the Elf jerked around, jabbering at the wolf. Within moments, a bowl had been brought, the remaining butterbeer poured into it and a fresh, frothy mug brought for Duncan
.
'Positively disgusting.' Severus thought, glaring at Amadeus.

*I endured enough of his backwash, as he was growing up. I do not-*

Severus turned his head, lifting the walls, effectively cutting off whatever it was Haldir meant to say.

Bronwyn hopped off Cor's lap, lute grasped firmly in one hand, led by the other by that brash, boisterous Elf who had escorted her family to Hogwarts.

"She's radiant, Severus." Lupin looked tired. The full moon would be at its peak in two nights and its effects were showing on his face. "I've never seen her look this vibrant."

Indeed, Bronwyn's eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed with excited happiness.

*You'll never have her all to yourself, Ssssssnape.* Haldir's voice echoed in his mind. *There are more facets, more corridors, more pathways that make up Bronwyn. I had thirty eight millennia and I never tapped them all.*

The intrusive thought echoed painfully, forcing its way in, where Severus fervently wished it would not reverberate. Bronwyn was sitting, chatting animatedly and signaling for another round of ale. Faeowynne's twins were chattering in Sindarin, the bulk of the conversation flying over Severus' and Lupin's heads.

"It is rude," Severus finally growled at Orophin, "for you to natter on, knowing there are some at this table who cannot understand a word you say."

Orophin grinned broadly. "You are correct, Professor Snape." Of all her family, he was the only one who addressed the Wizard properly. He turned to the noisy group, raising his voice. "In English, in English. Professor Snape and Professor Lupin are feeling most left out of our mundane catching up."

"You have not missed much," Ellahan, one of Faeowynne's twins, leaned across the table, his arm reaching for the saltshaker.

"N'uma," his brother Einion joined in, his arm crossing over his brother's to the pepper. "We were simply lamenting the lack of a proper pizza establishment."

"And amazed at the progeny of our fathers!"

Faeowynne's eyes had gone languid. Bronwyn's hand stopped, her mug lifted halfway and her mouth forming a perfect 'O'. "I wish you could have known them." Faeowynne murmured. "They were amazing Elves. It is my one regret with our agreement."

"Agreement?" Severus asked rather silkily. He noticed Bronwyn was beet red, suddenly very interested in the dregs of her goblet.

"They stayed behind - along with their sister. Elrond lost every member of his family to death in Middle Earth, to mortality. All except his wife, that is. His parents were killed, his brother and children chose to stay behind. I brought him... grandchildren. A poor decision, I think, sometimes." Faeowynne looked at her sons fondly. Bronwyn started choking, hacking. "Mother? Are you all right?"

Bronwyn was waving her hands in front of her face. "No... no... I'm not..."

Severus was feeling snarky. His world had been invaded, turned topsy-turvy and then turned on its ear. It was time to strike back. Clutching his wand in the hand he held under the table, he thumped Bronwyn on the back solidly with the other. He leaned over and with a flick of the unseen wand, whispered in her ear, 'Silentio.' Bronwyn's eyes flew open, her jaw hanging agape. The only sound coming from her mouth was that of forced air. "Hmm. Must have been a hot pepper." Severus murmured. He shoved a glass of wine in front of her. "Drink this. Maybe it will help." He looked up at the Elves sitting across the table, looking at her, looking at him..
.
Amadeus growling from under the table.

"I suppose you have not heard the joyous news." Severus reached over and picked up the almost empty bottle of wine and poured what was left into his empty wine glass. "Elrond's sons are not dead at all."

"Wha-"

"Why-" he continued smoothly, lifting the glass to his lips, "as a matter of fact, they have spent the entire last month here at Hogwarts, teaching Bronwyn's classes during the worst of her illness and being brilliant pains in the arses. They left just the day before you arrived."

***

"Did it not occur to you to tell me?" Bronwyn's daughter was furious; she definitely had her mother's temper.

"That was not the way I wanted you to find out!" Bronwyn retorted. "That Wizard Guardian put a silence spell on me! Besides," she continued stubbornly, "I didn't know you were going to be so maudlin about it."

The two women were back in Bronwyn's chambers, gay Christmas lights twinkling gently. The room smelled of pine and balsam and faintly of disinfectant. Amadeus was reclining on the couch, between Ellahan and Elran, all three closely watching the actions of the females, eyes volleying back and forth.

"Maudlin? They are the Adas of my ions!"

"And well I know it!" Bronwyn was almost nose - to - nose with her daughter, the latter having several inches on her. "As I recall, you waited until we were halfway to Valinor before you said a word! Your Ada..." her voice trailed off, quieted. "Your Ada would have strangled both had he been able to get his hands on them." She coughed hard, once. "Great!" Her hand rubbed her throat. "This is all I need. Something else for that man to hold over my head!" She coughed again. "You do not take care of yourself, Madam," she mimicked Severus' low sonorous tones, but not very well. "You will again expect me to cure you of... bah!" She spat. She turned her back, storming into the kitchen. Filling the teapot with water, she set it on the stove. "Left front boil water." The stove turned on, the fire adjusting itself accordingly. Bronwyn pulled down a large mug and several packets of tea.

"Here, mother." Faeowynne handed her the honey jar. "Some things never change, do they? Ada took good care of you." Her eyes narrowed. "If that Wizard was worth half his salt-"

"That Wizard is doing the best he can under the circumstances!" Bronwyn thrust her finger at her daughter, not realizing the honey pot was still in her hand. "I have not been very helpful to him. Or cooperative. He deserves a lot more credit then he's given." Bronwyn's hand dropped, her body wracked with unending coughing. "Is the water boiling yet?"

"N'uma." Faeowynne nosed over the teakettle. "When did you-"

"I found out late in the summer. That they were alive." Bronwyn pulled down a second mug and seeing her daughter's twins peeking around the doorway, pulled down two more. "It seems the house elves here are descendants of a group of Orcs who threw themselves on Elladan and Elrohir's mercy after we left for Middle Earth. The 'Warrior Twins' are revered by Bobbin and his kind. Face it-" the tea kettle began to whistle. Bronwyn used a tea towel to lift it and proceeded to pour mugs for everyone. "Of course, my first thought was of Elrond, but it's not something one puts in a letter."

"Oh, n'uma..."

"No."

Bronwyn put a dollop of honey into her tea and passed the pot to Faeowynne. "So I waited until he arrived when I became ill." She coughed again, Faeowynne adding another teaspoon of honey to her mother's tea while she was distracted. "Before you say anything derogatory, Severus owled him. And Severus is not... fond of Elves."

Faeowynne handed the honey to Ellahan, who drizzled honey in Bronwyn's tea while she coughed again. "Methinks Severus is not fond of much of anything." He handed the honey to his brother.

"He has had a rough time of it. Youthful mistakes. And me." She coughed again.

"You are not a mistake." Einion's smiled and poured a hearty dollop in Bronwyn's mug before pouring some into his. "A little difficult at times, but-"

"Ellran!"

The Elf shrugged, jovially. "You told Elrond when he arrived?"

"Aye." Bronwyn was now stirring her tea, slightly disturbed at the sudden thickness. "Just as well, as the twins, your fathers, showed up within the next day or so. I forget," she whispered. "Days are all jumbled about that time." She finally laid her spoon in the sink, blowing rising steam from the top of her cup. "I wish you would have arrived sooner or that they had stayed longer. They haven't," she eyeballed Faeowynne, "changed a bit."

Faeowynne got an evil gleam in her eye. "They have not?"

"N'uma." Again, Bronwyn thrust a finger in her daughter's face. "Do not think about it! No! I have enough descendants to deal with at the moment!" She breezed between the twins, moving back into the cheery living chambers. She took a deep sip from the tea and grimaced. "Gah! How strong is the honey?" She stopped and took in the room, her eyes resting on Amadeus, who had now taken sentry on the rug in front of the hearth. She coughed again. "Where is Duncan?"

***

Severus peered at the long list of potions that Madam Pomfrey had given him that morning to restock her stores.

'Headache potions, Dreamless sleep, More Skelo-Gro? Who has been hexing whom?' He began to pull ingredients; felt Bronwyn's coughing fit. The night air, combined with the vigorous outdoor playing had not helped her at all and he pulled the bottle of whiskey and rock candy from its spot high up.

"Fo' Mama?"

Severus spun and peered into the bleakness behind the steam. Sure enough, Duncan sat on a stool, peering into cauldrons, in a fashion very reminiscent of his mother. He pointed down. "Pwetty."

"Yes. This is for your mother." He waved Duncan's hand away from the cast iron pot. "Do not touch. You will burn yourself."

*Not to mention, you will numb your hand for eight hours.*

Duncan wagged stubby fingers in the air, eyes wide. "Ooh. Wha i' fo?"

Severus stopped himself; stopped from falling into a chasm of explaining the nuances of the sleeping potions to a being with the mentality of a human three year old. "It will make you take a nap."

"Oh!" Duncan cringed. He sputtered in Elvish, giving Severus the distinct impression that Bronwyn and Haldir's youngest child did not like naps.

"I did not hear you enter my potions lab." Bugger that! Severus could have sworn he warded the lab door behind him. Duncan giggled.

"Kwy-et asan Ef. A-da said. Shhh." He brought his fingers to his lips and whispered. "Kwy-et as an Ef."

Quiet as an Elf. You are your father's son.

"Do you not have anyone else to pester?"

"Pe-sss-terr?"

"Bother... talk to? Do you not have anyone else to talk to?"

Duncan's smile was cherubic. "Talk t'yuu."

Severus rolled his eyes. "However, I do not wish..." he stopped, seeing bewilderment in the familiar dark blue eyes. "I am boring. Go find your sister."

"Fay-wynne?" Duncan questioned. "Fay-wynne a gurl! Blech!"

"Girls have their uses," Severus muttered. He began a series of complicated strokes, timing them carefully, digging deep while whispering the necessary incantations. He almost forgot the Man-Elf-child in the smoky room.

"Mama wuvs yu. Wy?"

The question came from nowhere, as sudden as a bolt of lightning.

"Misplaced affection, I suspect." Severus finished with a final 'A' Stroke and watched as the murky liquid turned the expected shade of magenta. Satisfied with the result thus far, Severus looked up to see Duncan staring at him thoughtfully
.
"Mah-day-us right. Yu a silly, silly Wizzz-zerd." He shook his head ruefully.

"You... speak to Amadeus?"

Duncan tapped his forehead with a stubby finger. "Wike yu!"

'Like me. Lovely. Can you hear me now?'

Duncan seemed oblivious to the goings on in Severus' head; he was now enamored of the boiling and simmering cauldron in front of him. "Wha' zat?"

"Dragon bile."

"Wha' zat?" Duncan pointed to another. Severus did not look up.

"Unicorn feces with tarantula sperm. Lovely poured over toast." Duncan's eyebrows knitted together in consternation, trying to grasp the many words that poured so fluidly from Severus' mouth. He watched as the Wizard pulled a compact cauldron from its place under the table and set it on an equally diminutive fire. He uncorked the bottle of whiskey and rock candy and slowly poured it into the heating cauldron. 'She's coughing. Wonderful.'

Finally, Duncan gave up and gazed into the little cast-iron container that now garnered all of the Potions Master's attention. "Fo' Mama?"

"Yes. Again. For your mother."

Silence.

"Mama not... not... take care of herr'sef." Duncan was struggling, seemed at odds, fighting with his own speech.

"No. She does not." The syrup reached its desired warmth and Severus extinguished the fire with a flick of his wand. "She expects me to do it for her and makes everyone's lives around her miserable."

"Bee cuz yu wuv her."

Severus poured the desired dosage into an appropriate - sized vial. "Bite your tongue."

Duncan giggled with child-like glee. "Nah! Dat hurt!"

Severus put a cork stopper in the top of the vial. "Do not be ridiculous."

"Yu hug Mama!" The child threw his arms around his own body, wrapping himself in a welcome embrace. He closed his eyes in immense satisfaction, an absurd grin on his face. "Yu hug-" he rocked back and forth, "I saw!" His eyes shot open, the light in the depths unusually bright and clear, the smile falling from his features. "Ah-ma-day-us saw."

'Ah.'

"I suppose I shall have to have a chat with Ah-mah-day-us." Severus pocketed the vial and turned from his worktable, to see the door to the room creep open. The blonde head of Bronwyn's middle daughter peered in.

"My apologies, Severus, but have you seen... Duncan! There you are." The Elleth slipped into the darkened chamber. "Mama has been worried." She took Duncan by the hand. "I apologize if he has been a nuisance."

"No new - sance! Dun-kan no newww - sance!" Bronwyn's son pointed to the nearest cauldron. "Dra-gon bile an' tarry-tanny sperm an' yun - i - corn shite!"

Lovely. I will be blamed for that, I suppose.'

"No more a pest than your mother," Severus dead-panned.

Faeowynne was at a loss on how to deal with that particular comment. "Come Duncan. It's time for dinner and Mama wants to spend some time with you."

"Pway game? C-ess!" Without a backward glance, Duncan jumped from the stool he had been sitting on and fled the room.

"He plays chess?
"
Faeowynne dimpled prettily. "N'uma. He plays backgammon. It is difficult for him to say." She laughed at Severus' look of incredibility. "Believe it or not, he is a very skilled player. It is not easy to beat Duncan at backgammon."

"Really?"

Faeowynne shivered slightly at the silky baritone coming from the dark corner where the Wizard hid. For the life of her, she could not fathom why the Valar - or her mother - saw in the sallow-skinned man. She could not deny what she had seen outside in the snow, however, which reminded her...

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes?"

Faeowynne cleared her throat. "I realize Mother has been very ill and I am afraid she over - exerted herself. I-"

"She was and she did." Severus replied tersely. He palmed the vial. "Tell her-" he stopped short, a thought stampeding through his agile mind.

Dinner...

C-esss...

"Tell her, I will be over in two hours with something to help her. Put honey into her tea in the meantime."

"We have and I will." Faeowynne moved towards the door. "Thank you."

Severus watched her touch the door latch. "Faeowynne?" She stopped and turned to face him. "Send the wolf to me."

Faeowynne's brow knit in thought. "You wish for me to send Amadeus here? To you? Might I ask why?"

Severus set the vial down and smiled evilly, the reflection of the low-banked fire shining dully in his bottomless eyes. "Why? Because I enjoy his company so very much."

Faeowynne narrowed her own eyes, obviously disbelieving, before silently exiting the room. With set, deliberate movements, Severus finished the potions that were complete, simmered those that needed to set. He took his time, was in no rush, waiting for the Animal.

Amadeus was apparently in no hurry to meet with the Potions Master. Not that Severus blamed him. The Elf had been withholding valuable information and the Wizard had every intention of raking him over the cauldron for it. Severus bottled and labeled potions, checked the ones that were simmering, sent for Bobbin to clean the used cauldrons - there was nothing Severus hated more than washing cauldrons, except for maybe James Potter, Sirius Black, Harry Potter...

Well, at least two of them were dead and in six months, the third would be out of his hair. Forever.

Still no Amadeus.

Severus scowled, dark eyebrows marring an imperfect face. He looked towards Bronwyn's room, searching, seeking...

"Elf!"

Almost immediately, there was a scratching at the door. With a mumbled charm, the door creaked open, the eyes of the wolf eerily luminescent in the low firelight. Amadeus sat down across from Severus, staring balefully.

*What do you want?*

Severus stood up from his stool and slowly meandered to his desk in the corner. Sitting down comfortably in the leather chair, he carefully placed both feet upon the desk, reclining easily. Again, the snarky smile played across the man's lip. "Tell me something, Hahl-deair. Tell me about 'The Embrace'."

Tbc