“Child,” the lord of Lórien spoke with a voice that was as grimly firm as his face. “You need a home. That is all anybody needs to know. And you are correct, you are absurd for even worrying about being ‘adopted out of wedlock’.” He chuckled as he gathered the poor child into his arms. He was the clingiest kitten Lord Celeborn had ever seen, rather justifiably. He had less than an inch of black hair on him, and his eyes were emeralds that were shining with the first polish they’d been given in years.