Twelve Songs In Rivendel.
An Elrond Romance
by The Fox.
Chapter One
From Arnor
I've got you in my sights
MidSpring
- And be sure, Glorfindel, I'll have more than a few choice words about this when I'm finished with the
stranger!-
Glorfindel cringed, trying to keep pace with the irritated, fast steps of his angry Lord through the maze of polished wooden
hallways in Rivendel, the House called the Last Homely One. Their steps, in the middle of the night were as soft and loudless
like the most of the Elven, the beautiful race: but in those moments was when Glorfindel remembered a truth the most of their
kind had forgotten centuries ago.
That the dark haired, tall man walking ahead him was no elf, but one of the two Half Elves of the legend.
Descendant of Earendil, he had too the blood of the honor of Hurin and the loyalty of Huor. And even if he had chosen to be
counted between the First Born, and he had turned his back into his Human legacy, he was a different elf, some traits in him
directly coming from his Edain parentage.
And it wasn't the lesser of them his bad temper after being shaken awake in the middle of the night, to attend with his Healer
Gift a stranger carried home by Glorfindel, who found him laying in the road next to the Hidden Valley.
- You could have taken him into Bree, or any human camp nearby!- Elrond chastised, his brow frowning as he entered the
circular, airy room where the pale stranger has been dried, cleaned and tucked in bed by Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond' sons,
partners of Glorfindel in his adventure, and partners too, in sharing his father's grumpy mood.
- He was burning in fever, my lord.-
Elrond was going to snap another remark about what any Human can do with his fever, when he took a peek in his grinning
sons, and then saw his daughter sitting there too in her sleeping robes. She carried a bunch of heavy, dark clothing- and a
black shoe- in her delicate arms.
- Arwen? What are you doing here?- he asked, looking back alternatively to Elladan and Elrohir, whom were slipping away as
discreetly as an Elf can.
- What's it looks, Father?- Arwen breathed, her best angelic smile on as she pursued a second shoe under the bed and then
straightened, her waterfall of dark curls free around her.
- Getting into mischief?- Elrond growled, as he stood defiantly in Glorfindel's cloak tail, who was trying to slip away unnoticed
too.
- Helping.- She stated proudly.
- Please don't tell me you helped those with the stranger - Elrond said, a menacing gleam on his eyes.
- Nay.-
- Thanks Elbereth.-
- I bathed and tucked him myself on my own.-
- WHAT?-
Only the urgent treatment the stranger needed, because in his forehead an egg it could have been cooked, delayed- but no
prevented- the skinning and killing of the two young Lord Elves and their friend and guardian. As Arwen was shooed out with
their brothers, Glorfindel lightened candles around the bed, into elven crystal lamps that took the light into soft prisms dancing
in the wooden carved ceiling.
Elrond stared at the stranger nested in the white bedding of the low mattress, wood in the shape of a tree enveloping in soft
leaves the pillow. The stranger was a thin young man, tall but too slender, hair of an indescribable sunset color long and
serpentine still wet and knotty but clean. His face was flushed by fever, features soft and regular with high bones and a
straight nose, thin eyebrows and large eyes closed in pain and discomfort.
- Where did you found him?- now the healer speaking, Elrond took his hand, cold and damp. The life beat was there still
strong, but there it was something more than fever.
- He was in unconscious near the road: I'm sure his horse dumped him, the stallion was near him and looked very contrite. We
took it with us: it was raining and it was the coldest day we have had this spring. We couldn't have possibly left him there, My
Lord: he would have died.-
Elrond stared into the stranger, taking his other hand between his too.
- Would he heal, my lord?-
- I think so. Fetch me some cooling herbs and asea arannion and I'll take care of him. But I think is something more here
than fever and cold.- Slowly, Elrond put a hand over the heart of the man, feeling it raise and rest, the heart there beating like
a deer in chains.- What is this coldness soaking him? It is…-
Nazgûl.
Darkness.
He had bee under the shadow and it weakened him.
Elrond pushed harder, trying to feel the heart under his hand, to soothe it.
Calling his power, he talked to the frantic heart, soft, magical voice vanishing chains, relinquishing the cold grip of darkness
there.
You're free.
Live.
The Nazgûl can't get to you here.
Come back from the darkness.
You're safe.
By the powers I am gifted, Live!
A distant sound almost broke his concentration, but he continued, his hand firm, his eyes staring into the flushed face.
Come into the light, stop walking in the valley!
The sound became a clear grinning, and a snort like stifled laughter.
Elrong cursed his over-humorous, less-than-serious sons, and ended the incantation.
Live! he ordered, feeling the life returning, the heart under his grip again free and calming.
Laughs… and was that a catcall?
Elrond was ready to yell to his sons over his shoulder when he saw Glorfindel with a funny face, eyebrows raised, trying to
stifle his laughter.
What the hell…
His hand felt something weird.
Under his hand, the chest of the stranger felt eeringly soft, filling the curve of his palm, silky under his fingers.
Elrond stared. Breasts? Why this rider has a breast?
Realization fell over the wisest elf of mid earth like a brick. And when he blushed in the most unbecoming way for one who
had lived unaccountable years and knew even more, Glorfindel couldn't do anything but howl with laughter.
- ELLADAN! ELROHIR!-
- Father hasn't any humor those days.- Elladan rode away, still grinning, as Elrohir followed him in his own stallion, under the
stars of spring. After the prank, it was safer to hide in Grandma's Lorien till his beloved sister was done saving their necks.
Poor Glorfindel, who couldn't just run away. But at least he had the reward to see the face of his father when he knew he
was groping an unconscious girl.
- I would had none in his place. Too much years since Mom sailed West. For Elbereth, he is a lord, not a monk!-
- Elladan!- Elrohir, more sensible and kind that his fiery twin spoke with scandalized tones.- Father has too much to do, and he
loved our mother dearly.-
- Yes. But sometimes I think he is far more Elven than me, Rohir. He is far too serious for his own good.-
- I wonder if that poor lady is fine.- Elrohir smiled.
- What? You fancy her?-
- No!- Elrohir was too the shyest of the pair, and he tightened his scarf, hiding his blushing.- But I've never seen those hair
color. And I wander why a lady was alone and hurt… the ones who abandoned her must be punished!-
- Maybe she traveled alone, dummie.-
- Isn't that sad?-
- Isn't that interesting? – Elladan hurried his stallion, white by the moon as they ride side by side with the tumultuous Bruinen.-
Her black horse was so pretty. I can't wait father to coax the story out of her.-
- You're too curious.-
- And you're too boring.-
- I am not!-
- You are.-
- I am not!-
- Yes, you are!-
- Fool.-
- Crybaby.-
- Let's go see Estel. So we'll have something good to tell Arwen when we're back.-
- Yes! Let's hunt down some orcs!- Elladan sprung into gallop, as Elrohir softly blew his black bangs.
- That wasn't exactly what I mean, Ladan…-
- Yaa-jayyy! Elbereth!-
-…Whatever.-
- You're in Rivendel, and safe. Please, do not strain yourself.-
Elrond stood in the balcony, the long white curtains blowing in the breeze as the sun streaked from the fresh morning outside
into the circular room, changing the browns to caramel and the bronze to gold. The morning air was fresh and new: and the
mountains around the Last Homely House were shining with dew, the night just gone. The woman blinked, lost, barely lifting
herself in her elbows. Her gaze, the palest, cloud like blue on black, eerie eyes, rested in the intricate carvings, the whirling
white curtains, and finally in the tall man standing in the balcony. He was dressed in long and heavy deep red robes
embroidered in gold gently moving in the breeze, a curtain of black hair falling around his head in tendrils too heavy for the
wind to play with. A silver and gold circlet in his forehead spoke of royalty and pride: it was his gray eyes whom spoke of
power. But his hands were gentle and white and his mouth was still kind.
- Who are you?- the voice of the woman was tentative, and a bit raspy: but Elrond saw interest and something like hope in her
voice.
Her clothes and luggage had been searched through by Arwen, who said with no little interest she seemed to come from
Gondor, or at least that was the symbol she wore in a court attire. So he presented himself in the uses of Gondor, ones he
knew all to well.
Softly, without pride but full of dignity, he said, staring to those strange pale blue eyes:
- Elrond, son of Earendil, lord of Imladris.-
- Arian, daughter of Aeglos, messenger of Lord Denethor of Gondor.- she said, voice even. Elrond blinked, and studied her
with new interest. A woman, a messenger of such an important lord?
Of a lord he, not only by Estel's sake but Arwen's too he had taken a keen interest long ago.
But hospitality first. Elrond can have been raised servant and prisoner, but he had made Imladris the last homely house just by
the force of his sheer hospitality, even shaken awake in the middle of night.
And like a footnote, the one who said elves didn't sleep was delusional.
- How are you feeling, my lady Arian?-
- Fine. I have to thank you deeply, my lord: I could have died easily. And my sire would have taken in a very ill way if his
letters got lost.-
- Your things are secure, my lady. My sons and my lieutenant found you in the rain. Were you attacked?-
- Just by the cold and a nasty fever, my lord. I'm sorry to have troubled you.-
- My lady, I am glad to have been of help to you and your lord.-
Glorfindel, who waited outside, stopped Arwen with a tray and the both kept their sharp keen ears still, rolling their eyes to the
exchange of pleasantries.
But Elrond was pleased, genuinely. The lady spoke with the casual grace of a trained noble, and she was very pleasant to look
at. Coming from Gondor, from where his ardent, hotheaded foster son's roots came, it was a nice surprise.
Maybe she could help at least to get to know what kind of man Denethor was. She was indebted, after all.
- But you need some days to recover, lady Arien.- Elrond said, his years of ordering people around creeping into his voice.-
You need rest.-
- I'm afraid my messages are urgent, my lord. I must insist to leave today.-
- Do you prefer your messages to arrive late, or none at all?-
Arwen stifled a giggle, as Glorfindel rose his pale eyebrows.
But the lady simply smiled.
- Do you have a library?-
- Of course I have.- Elrond looked at her, seeing her eyes shone suddenly.- Why?-
- Let me peek in and I'll stay till tomorrow. Deal?-
- Excuse me?-
- And where you came from?-
- Gondor.-
- No, I mean… where are you coming back from now?-
- Arnor. I had some messages to develop there near the old lands of Fornost.-
- Didn't you see the Rangers?-
- The Dunedain? No. I think they are still around Bree and the Shire. It has been such a long winter, isn't it?-
Elrond had left to Arwen, whom had insisted, her elven curiosity piqued, to help the lady to dress after her adamant refusal to
stay in bed. She had helped the rider lady into a Gondor attire, black and silver, long and thick robes over tight undershirt and
pants. It were so different at her clothes that Arwen quickly struck a conversation with the stranger, wondering why in
MidEarth could a lady put into such a tight undershirt, to then be briefed into an explanation about riding, gravity, and twin
reasons, that left them both laughing. She had helped Arien to brush her long hair into submission, the curls at end of the
straight hair rebelling and the waterfall carelessly thrown over her shoulder. Arwen was mid surprised when the hair she
touched felt like real hair and not as sunlight: it was so shiny, so light. Arien was so foreign, so strange, even in her grace and
walk, determined, not floating as Elves did, that the Undomiel was interested, not only in the messenger's lady's travels, but
too in her appearance. And with no little amount of envy at the ease she spoke of faraway lands and freedom.
- I've never seen hair colored like this. And your eyes are too very new to me.- Arwen said sincerely, as she sat in a wooden
stool of Elrond's library, the messenger lady peeking into this and that book, her blue eyes shiny and alive. The library was a
airy, fresh room smelling of leather and parchment, another oasis of peace in the calm house. They could see the Bruinen's
waterfalls from there, endlessly emptying themselves under the blue sky, loudless and pure. Arien took a look outside, and then
smiled back to Arwen, her eyes blue as a pale sapphire as she answered the brunette lady.
- Are they ugly, Lady Arwen?- she asked merrily.
- No! I mean…- Arwen looked caught, and then laughed, sudden sympathy for the lady of Eregion settling in. Something about
her frankness and humor was refreshing, like a breeze from the Mid Est. – I've never seen hair colored like that. Estel has
black hair as me, even if he came from Gondor too.-
- Oh, so his name is Estel, isn't it?-
Arwen broke into laugh again, slight blush.
- Do you know any rhyme or ballad, lady Arien? It would be great to hear something from those distant lands tonight. We
usually sit together at night to hear songs, but are mostly elven songs, and I'm afraid I've heard all already.- Arwen spoke to a
chair, because the Arien was in all-fours searching through the lowest books in the bookshelves.
- We'll see, my lady.- a grunt and then Arien was seen, kneeled behind a large stacks of books.- Lady Arwen, do you know
where your father kept the lineage books?-
- The lineage books? – Arwen blinked.- I haven't seen them since I was but a elfling. I'll ask my father…-
A rush of wind moved the braids of Arwen, and Arien's free hair. They looked to the source of sound of soft footsteps
coming, and Lord Elrond appeared, a soft smile, tall in the sharp, delicate door.
- No need.- Elrond walked into the room, clearly having heard the exchange. – The red ones, there, at left… yes, those.-
Elrond tilted his head when Arien lowered them carefully into the wooden desk of the library and started to pass the pages
with a knowing smile.- But what in the MidEarth can interest you or your lord into the elven lineage, my lady?-
- Oh, I'm sorry, Lord Elrond. Is a bit of a is a personal affair, just that. Let's say I have a history vein myself.- She smiled,
taking a seat, and using parchment and ink to transcribe in quick writing some pages.- May I?-
- Of course – Elrond said, touched at her interest in what even him thought a boring elven hobby.
- Arien had said she could sing us something tonight!- Arwen smiled, her brunette beauty warm next to the red curtains of the
library, the color Elrond favored, as her pale gold dress captured the afternoon sun. Elrond smiled gently, wandering what in
the Gondor lady had captured so fast his wise daughter's sympathy.
- But only if she feels up to. I'm still concerned about you health, my lady.-
- I feel fine. You're an amazing healer, lord Elrond.-
She lifted eyes from the parchment, and Elrond suddenly knew, staring at her blue, almost white eyes, that she knew about the
Shadow.
She knows.
There was something in those eyes that spoke to Elrond of something buried in his childhood.
A shudder.
- Father?-
Breaking from the reverie, Elrond looked back to her daughter, who was looking at him with elf amusement in her ancient-
young eyes. Then she played with her necklace, just above her breast, and grinned.
The memory of something called groping came into Elrond's head, and he felt tempted to strangle somebody. Joke, indeed.
My own daughter is winding me up.
If your mother hadn't sailed West long ago, I would have got mad trying to cope with yours and hers wicked sense of
humor. And is Noldor's curse your brothers took after her, too.
- Yes?-
- Why are you red in the face?- Arwen was giggling.
- What?- he turned around to a mirror, and then looked back to her daughter, who laughed quietly.- Very funny. Where are
your brothers, Arwen Undomiel?-
That sobered the elven princess quickly. Playing with a fold of her robe, she threw her head back and gave him her best smile.
- It's getting dark. I wonder what color of robe would be the most appropriate tonight.-
- Arwen…-
- Purple.- was the contribution of the Gondor lady, still busy copying ancient text in the desk.
- Do you think? Oh, thank you! I'll go to get a robe… it takes hours to fit one rightly…- Arwen slid into the hallways as only
an elf can do, and Elrond let out a defeated, slightly irritated sigh. He turned to the lady of Gondor, wondering if she had got
bored.
She was stifling her laughter behind the book.
Now I am the object of ridicule not only by my own breeding, but also of strangers.
Great.
The lady was dressed in the black of Gondor, just the silver tree in the front of her court robes lightening the heavier and more
squarely cut that elven robes. It was the gala robes of a messenger, serious and noble, but slightly foreign in the thickness of
the cloth, the high neck. Elrond knew her selection of clothing it had to do more with need that the desire to be elegant: after
all, Arwen told him it was her one dry robe. But the black, so contrasting with the brilliant colored clothes of the elves at dinner
looked beautiful anyway, made her blond-orange sunset colored hair shone as a crown, unmasking the femininity hidden by the
standard men's robes.
She laughed, and listened. She gave opinions surprisingly wise, the likes of opinions a person who's always on the road but too
the likes cultivated ones would give. She was kind and smiling in the dinner, making a general good impression, but Elrond was
still worried looking the soft purple under her eyes.
How did she got herself under the shadow? Do the Lord of Gondor send women into the fight his people had fought
centuries, could it be?
The song she promised Arwen wasn't requested till they were comfortably seated in the Music room, where she had
appraised the efforts of elves at ballads of immortal beauty. But at Arwen's request and insistence she got a harp, and smiling,
she spoke in voice now soft as honey, but fresh as snow, as candlelight shone into hair of the same color.
- I can't even dare to compete with Elven songs, my lady. I can't even hope to get to your level.- she said smiling. But I'll sing
to you a song of the free lands of Eregion, where the air itself was young and the young men and women sung songs of love.
This is a simple human song of love and need, under a blue sky, with all the fire only man know.-
I've been meaning to tell you
I've got this feeling that won't subside
I look at you and I fantasize
Darling tonight
Now I've got you in my sights
Despite her words of humility, her voice was truly magical. Silence descended like an incantation, as every other song sung
that night looked pale and watered against the pure wine and honey of her clear voice. It was young and penetrating, a soft
blow over any sleeping charcoal of passion they once had nested, to make it light and heat without pain. They heard in silence
her song of passion and obsession and need from the free land of Lindon, where the Elves let themselves be whirled by the
powerful wind of Eregion
With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I can't disguise
I've got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you and I
I want to hold you so hear me out
I want to show you what love's all about
Darling tonight
Now I've got you in my sights
It was soft, and needful, and Elrond wondered suddenly when has been the last time he had found his happiness like male. It
has been so much time, but the need felt as good as new. The impulse of love and be love, alive through the centuries…
With these hungry eyes
Now did I take you by surprise
I need you to see
This love was meant to be
Elrond watched Arien's graceful neck, as she sung of love and need in the slow song of the passionate elves of Lindon.
Of a place lost one age ago.
How can she know…?
Arwen sighed, and the sound broke the silence of the last moan of harp. The fire only men know… Arwen twin elven dark
star's eyes were shining. Elrond looked at her, a bit of worry. But Arien smiled at him, eyes pure and white into Elrond's deep
dark ones.
Arien, Maia of Sun… sunset in her hair as Sun drove into the last days, Laurelin last glow shining over the Promised
Island…
- Come to see us soon! Don't you dare to pass near and don't come to see me, do you hear!- Arwen said goodbye happily,
some days after.
- I promise, my lady Arwen!- she sung at the wind, fading quick as a dream in the dark green hills around Rivendel.
And as the proud black stallion took away the messenger of pale eyes and fey hair, Elrond looked to her retreating profile from
her balcony against the sun of spring, and wondered, waiting, his prophetic eyes trying to stare at sun without blinking.
Now I've got you in my sights.
© Hungry Eyes - Carmen Eric
Dirty Dancing Soundtrack
An Elrond Romance
by The Fox.
Chapter One
From Arnor
I've got you in my sights
MidSpring
- And be sure, Glorfindel, I'll have more than a few choice words about this when I'm finished with the
stranger!-
Glorfindel cringed, trying to keep pace with the irritated, fast steps of his angry Lord through the maze of polished wooden
hallways in Rivendel, the House called the Last Homely One. Their steps, in the middle of the night were as soft and loudless
like the most of the Elven, the beautiful race: but in those moments was when Glorfindel remembered a truth the most of their
kind had forgotten centuries ago.
That the dark haired, tall man walking ahead him was no elf, but one of the two Half Elves of the legend.
Descendant of Earendil, he had too the blood of the honor of Hurin and the loyalty of Huor. And even if he had chosen to be
counted between the First Born, and he had turned his back into his Human legacy, he was a different elf, some traits in him
directly coming from his Edain parentage.
And it wasn't the lesser of them his bad temper after being shaken awake in the middle of the night, to attend with his Healer
Gift a stranger carried home by Glorfindel, who found him laying in the road next to the Hidden Valley.
- You could have taken him into Bree, or any human camp nearby!- Elrond chastised, his brow frowning as he entered the
circular, airy room where the pale stranger has been dried, cleaned and tucked in bed by Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond' sons,
partners of Glorfindel in his adventure, and partners too, in sharing his father's grumpy mood.
- He was burning in fever, my lord.-
Elrond was going to snap another remark about what any Human can do with his fever, when he took a peek in his grinning
sons, and then saw his daughter sitting there too in her sleeping robes. She carried a bunch of heavy, dark clothing- and a
black shoe- in her delicate arms.
- Arwen? What are you doing here?- he asked, looking back alternatively to Elladan and Elrohir, whom were slipping away as
discreetly as an Elf can.
- What's it looks, Father?- Arwen breathed, her best angelic smile on as she pursued a second shoe under the bed and then
straightened, her waterfall of dark curls free around her.
- Getting into mischief?- Elrond growled, as he stood defiantly in Glorfindel's cloak tail, who was trying to slip away unnoticed
too.
- Helping.- She stated proudly.
- Please don't tell me you helped those with the stranger - Elrond said, a menacing gleam on his eyes.
- Nay.-
- Thanks Elbereth.-
- I bathed and tucked him myself on my own.-
- WHAT?-
Only the urgent treatment the stranger needed, because in his forehead an egg it could have been cooked, delayed- but no
prevented- the skinning and killing of the two young Lord Elves and their friend and guardian. As Arwen was shooed out with
their brothers, Glorfindel lightened candles around the bed, into elven crystal lamps that took the light into soft prisms dancing
in the wooden carved ceiling.
Elrond stared at the stranger nested in the white bedding of the low mattress, wood in the shape of a tree enveloping in soft
leaves the pillow. The stranger was a thin young man, tall but too slender, hair of an indescribable sunset color long and
serpentine still wet and knotty but clean. His face was flushed by fever, features soft and regular with high bones and a
straight nose, thin eyebrows and large eyes closed in pain and discomfort.
- Where did you found him?- now the healer speaking, Elrond took his hand, cold and damp. The life beat was there still
strong, but there it was something more than fever.
- He was in unconscious near the road: I'm sure his horse dumped him, the stallion was near him and looked very contrite. We
took it with us: it was raining and it was the coldest day we have had this spring. We couldn't have possibly left him there, My
Lord: he would have died.-
Elrond stared into the stranger, taking his other hand between his too.
- Would he heal, my lord?-
- I think so. Fetch me some cooling herbs and asea arannion and I'll take care of him. But I think is something more here
than fever and cold.- Slowly, Elrond put a hand over the heart of the man, feeling it raise and rest, the heart there beating like
a deer in chains.- What is this coldness soaking him? It is…-
Nazgûl.
Darkness.
He had bee under the shadow and it weakened him.
Elrond pushed harder, trying to feel the heart under his hand, to soothe it.
Calling his power, he talked to the frantic heart, soft, magical voice vanishing chains, relinquishing the cold grip of darkness
there.
You're free.
Live.
The Nazgûl can't get to you here.
Come back from the darkness.
You're safe.
By the powers I am gifted, Live!
A distant sound almost broke his concentration, but he continued, his hand firm, his eyes staring into the flushed face.
Come into the light, stop walking in the valley!
The sound became a clear grinning, and a snort like stifled laughter.
Elrong cursed his over-humorous, less-than-serious sons, and ended the incantation.
Live! he ordered, feeling the life returning, the heart under his grip again free and calming.
Laughs… and was that a catcall?
Elrond was ready to yell to his sons over his shoulder when he saw Glorfindel with a funny face, eyebrows raised, trying to
stifle his laughter.
What the hell…
His hand felt something weird.
Under his hand, the chest of the stranger felt eeringly soft, filling the curve of his palm, silky under his fingers.
Elrond stared. Breasts? Why this rider has a breast?
Realization fell over the wisest elf of mid earth like a brick. And when he blushed in the most unbecoming way for one who
had lived unaccountable years and knew even more, Glorfindel couldn't do anything but howl with laughter.
- ELLADAN! ELROHIR!-
- Father hasn't any humor those days.- Elladan rode away, still grinning, as Elrohir followed him in his own stallion, under the
stars of spring. After the prank, it was safer to hide in Grandma's Lorien till his beloved sister was done saving their necks.
Poor Glorfindel, who couldn't just run away. But at least he had the reward to see the face of his father when he knew he
was groping an unconscious girl.
- I would had none in his place. Too much years since Mom sailed West. For Elbereth, he is a lord, not a monk!-
- Elladan!- Elrohir, more sensible and kind that his fiery twin spoke with scandalized tones.- Father has too much to do, and he
loved our mother dearly.-
- Yes. But sometimes I think he is far more Elven than me, Rohir. He is far too serious for his own good.-
- I wonder if that poor lady is fine.- Elrohir smiled.
- What? You fancy her?-
- No!- Elrohir was too the shyest of the pair, and he tightened his scarf, hiding his blushing.- But I've never seen those hair
color. And I wander why a lady was alone and hurt… the ones who abandoned her must be punished!-
- Maybe she traveled alone, dummie.-
- Isn't that sad?-
- Isn't that interesting? – Elladan hurried his stallion, white by the moon as they ride side by side with the tumultuous Bruinen.-
Her black horse was so pretty. I can't wait father to coax the story out of her.-
- You're too curious.-
- And you're too boring.-
- I am not!-
- You are.-
- I am not!-
- Yes, you are!-
- Fool.-
- Crybaby.-
- Let's go see Estel. So we'll have something good to tell Arwen when we're back.-
- Yes! Let's hunt down some orcs!- Elladan sprung into gallop, as Elrohir softly blew his black bangs.
- That wasn't exactly what I mean, Ladan…-
- Yaa-jayyy! Elbereth!-
-…Whatever.-
- You're in Rivendel, and safe. Please, do not strain yourself.-
Elrond stood in the balcony, the long white curtains blowing in the breeze as the sun streaked from the fresh morning outside
into the circular room, changing the browns to caramel and the bronze to gold. The morning air was fresh and new: and the
mountains around the Last Homely House were shining with dew, the night just gone. The woman blinked, lost, barely lifting
herself in her elbows. Her gaze, the palest, cloud like blue on black, eerie eyes, rested in the intricate carvings, the whirling
white curtains, and finally in the tall man standing in the balcony. He was dressed in long and heavy deep red robes
embroidered in gold gently moving in the breeze, a curtain of black hair falling around his head in tendrils too heavy for the
wind to play with. A silver and gold circlet in his forehead spoke of royalty and pride: it was his gray eyes whom spoke of
power. But his hands were gentle and white and his mouth was still kind.
- Who are you?- the voice of the woman was tentative, and a bit raspy: but Elrond saw interest and something like hope in her
voice.
Her clothes and luggage had been searched through by Arwen, who said with no little interest she seemed to come from
Gondor, or at least that was the symbol she wore in a court attire. So he presented himself in the uses of Gondor, ones he
knew all to well.
Softly, without pride but full of dignity, he said, staring to those strange pale blue eyes:
- Elrond, son of Earendil, lord of Imladris.-
- Arian, daughter of Aeglos, messenger of Lord Denethor of Gondor.- she said, voice even. Elrond blinked, and studied her
with new interest. A woman, a messenger of such an important lord?
Of a lord he, not only by Estel's sake but Arwen's too he had taken a keen interest long ago.
But hospitality first. Elrond can have been raised servant and prisoner, but he had made Imladris the last homely house just by
the force of his sheer hospitality, even shaken awake in the middle of night.
And like a footnote, the one who said elves didn't sleep was delusional.
- How are you feeling, my lady Arian?-
- Fine. I have to thank you deeply, my lord: I could have died easily. And my sire would have taken in a very ill way if his
letters got lost.-
- Your things are secure, my lady. My sons and my lieutenant found you in the rain. Were you attacked?-
- Just by the cold and a nasty fever, my lord. I'm sorry to have troubled you.-
- My lady, I am glad to have been of help to you and your lord.-
Glorfindel, who waited outside, stopped Arwen with a tray and the both kept their sharp keen ears still, rolling their eyes to the
exchange of pleasantries.
But Elrond was pleased, genuinely. The lady spoke with the casual grace of a trained noble, and she was very pleasant to look
at. Coming from Gondor, from where his ardent, hotheaded foster son's roots came, it was a nice surprise.
Maybe she could help at least to get to know what kind of man Denethor was. She was indebted, after all.
- But you need some days to recover, lady Arien.- Elrond said, his years of ordering people around creeping into his voice.-
You need rest.-
- I'm afraid my messages are urgent, my lord. I must insist to leave today.-
- Do you prefer your messages to arrive late, or none at all?-
Arwen stifled a giggle, as Glorfindel rose his pale eyebrows.
But the lady simply smiled.
- Do you have a library?-
- Of course I have.- Elrond looked at her, seeing her eyes shone suddenly.- Why?-
- Let me peek in and I'll stay till tomorrow. Deal?-
- Excuse me?-
- And where you came from?-
- Gondor.-
- No, I mean… where are you coming back from now?-
- Arnor. I had some messages to develop there near the old lands of Fornost.-
- Didn't you see the Rangers?-
- The Dunedain? No. I think they are still around Bree and the Shire. It has been such a long winter, isn't it?-
Elrond had left to Arwen, whom had insisted, her elven curiosity piqued, to help the lady to dress after her adamant refusal to
stay in bed. She had helped the rider lady into a Gondor attire, black and silver, long and thick robes over tight undershirt and
pants. It were so different at her clothes that Arwen quickly struck a conversation with the stranger, wondering why in
MidEarth could a lady put into such a tight undershirt, to then be briefed into an explanation about riding, gravity, and twin
reasons, that left them both laughing. She had helped Arien to brush her long hair into submission, the curls at end of the
straight hair rebelling and the waterfall carelessly thrown over her shoulder. Arwen was mid surprised when the hair she
touched felt like real hair and not as sunlight: it was so shiny, so light. Arien was so foreign, so strange, even in her grace and
walk, determined, not floating as Elves did, that the Undomiel was interested, not only in the messenger's lady's travels, but
too in her appearance. And with no little amount of envy at the ease she spoke of faraway lands and freedom.
- I've never seen hair colored like this. And your eyes are too very new to me.- Arwen said sincerely, as she sat in a wooden
stool of Elrond's library, the messenger lady peeking into this and that book, her blue eyes shiny and alive. The library was a
airy, fresh room smelling of leather and parchment, another oasis of peace in the calm house. They could see the Bruinen's
waterfalls from there, endlessly emptying themselves under the blue sky, loudless and pure. Arien took a look outside, and then
smiled back to Arwen, her eyes blue as a pale sapphire as she answered the brunette lady.
- Are they ugly, Lady Arwen?- she asked merrily.
- No! I mean…- Arwen looked caught, and then laughed, sudden sympathy for the lady of Eregion settling in. Something about
her frankness and humor was refreshing, like a breeze from the Mid Est. – I've never seen hair colored like that. Estel has
black hair as me, even if he came from Gondor too.-
- Oh, so his name is Estel, isn't it?-
Arwen broke into laugh again, slight blush.
- Do you know any rhyme or ballad, lady Arien? It would be great to hear something from those distant lands tonight. We
usually sit together at night to hear songs, but are mostly elven songs, and I'm afraid I've heard all already.- Arwen spoke to a
chair, because the Arien was in all-fours searching through the lowest books in the bookshelves.
- We'll see, my lady.- a grunt and then Arien was seen, kneeled behind a large stacks of books.- Lady Arwen, do you know
where your father kept the lineage books?-
- The lineage books? – Arwen blinked.- I haven't seen them since I was but a elfling. I'll ask my father…-
A rush of wind moved the braids of Arwen, and Arien's free hair. They looked to the source of sound of soft footsteps
coming, and Lord Elrond appeared, a soft smile, tall in the sharp, delicate door.
- No need.- Elrond walked into the room, clearly having heard the exchange. – The red ones, there, at left… yes, those.-
Elrond tilted his head when Arien lowered them carefully into the wooden desk of the library and started to pass the pages
with a knowing smile.- But what in the MidEarth can interest you or your lord into the elven lineage, my lady?-
- Oh, I'm sorry, Lord Elrond. Is a bit of a is a personal affair, just that. Let's say I have a history vein myself.- She smiled,
taking a seat, and using parchment and ink to transcribe in quick writing some pages.- May I?-
- Of course – Elrond said, touched at her interest in what even him thought a boring elven hobby.
- Arien had said she could sing us something tonight!- Arwen smiled, her brunette beauty warm next to the red curtains of the
library, the color Elrond favored, as her pale gold dress captured the afternoon sun. Elrond smiled gently, wandering what in
the Gondor lady had captured so fast his wise daughter's sympathy.
- But only if she feels up to. I'm still concerned about you health, my lady.-
- I feel fine. You're an amazing healer, lord Elrond.-
She lifted eyes from the parchment, and Elrond suddenly knew, staring at her blue, almost white eyes, that she knew about the
Shadow.
She knows.
There was something in those eyes that spoke to Elrond of something buried in his childhood.
A shudder.
- Father?-
Breaking from the reverie, Elrond looked back to her daughter, who was looking at him with elf amusement in her ancient-
young eyes. Then she played with her necklace, just above her breast, and grinned.
The memory of something called groping came into Elrond's head, and he felt tempted to strangle somebody. Joke, indeed.
My own daughter is winding me up.
If your mother hadn't sailed West long ago, I would have got mad trying to cope with yours and hers wicked sense of
humor. And is Noldor's curse your brothers took after her, too.
- Yes?-
- Why are you red in the face?- Arwen was giggling.
- What?- he turned around to a mirror, and then looked back to her daughter, who laughed quietly.- Very funny. Where are
your brothers, Arwen Undomiel?-
That sobered the elven princess quickly. Playing with a fold of her robe, she threw her head back and gave him her best smile.
- It's getting dark. I wonder what color of robe would be the most appropriate tonight.-
- Arwen…-
- Purple.- was the contribution of the Gondor lady, still busy copying ancient text in the desk.
- Do you think? Oh, thank you! I'll go to get a robe… it takes hours to fit one rightly…- Arwen slid into the hallways as only
an elf can do, and Elrond let out a defeated, slightly irritated sigh. He turned to the lady of Gondor, wondering if she had got
bored.
She was stifling her laughter behind the book.
Now I am the object of ridicule not only by my own breeding, but also of strangers.
Great.
The lady was dressed in the black of Gondor, just the silver tree in the front of her court robes lightening the heavier and more
squarely cut that elven robes. It was the gala robes of a messenger, serious and noble, but slightly foreign in the thickness of
the cloth, the high neck. Elrond knew her selection of clothing it had to do more with need that the desire to be elegant: after
all, Arwen told him it was her one dry robe. But the black, so contrasting with the brilliant colored clothes of the elves at dinner
looked beautiful anyway, made her blond-orange sunset colored hair shone as a crown, unmasking the femininity hidden by the
standard men's robes.
She laughed, and listened. She gave opinions surprisingly wise, the likes of opinions a person who's always on the road but too
the likes cultivated ones would give. She was kind and smiling in the dinner, making a general good impression, but Elrond was
still worried looking the soft purple under her eyes.
How did she got herself under the shadow? Do the Lord of Gondor send women into the fight his people had fought
centuries, could it be?
The song she promised Arwen wasn't requested till they were comfortably seated in the Music room, where she had
appraised the efforts of elves at ballads of immortal beauty. But at Arwen's request and insistence she got a harp, and smiling,
she spoke in voice now soft as honey, but fresh as snow, as candlelight shone into hair of the same color.
- I can't even dare to compete with Elven songs, my lady. I can't even hope to get to your level.- she said smiling. But I'll sing
to you a song of the free lands of Eregion, where the air itself was young and the young men and women sung songs of love.
This is a simple human song of love and need, under a blue sky, with all the fire only man know.-
I've been meaning to tell you
I've got this feeling that won't subside
I look at you and I fantasize
Darling tonight
Now I've got you in my sights
Despite her words of humility, her voice was truly magical. Silence descended like an incantation, as every other song sung
that night looked pale and watered against the pure wine and honey of her clear voice. It was young and penetrating, a soft
blow over any sleeping charcoal of passion they once had nested, to make it light and heat without pain. They heard in silence
her song of passion and obsession and need from the free land of Lindon, where the Elves let themselves be whirled by the
powerful wind of Eregion
With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I can't disguise
I've got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you and I
I want to hold you so hear me out
I want to show you what love's all about
Darling tonight
Now I've got you in my sights
It was soft, and needful, and Elrond wondered suddenly when has been the last time he had found his happiness like male. It
has been so much time, but the need felt as good as new. The impulse of love and be love, alive through the centuries…
With these hungry eyes
Now did I take you by surprise
I need you to see
This love was meant to be
Elrond watched Arien's graceful neck, as she sung of love and need in the slow song of the passionate elves of Lindon.
Of a place lost one age ago.
How can she know…?
Arwen sighed, and the sound broke the silence of the last moan of harp. The fire only men know… Arwen twin elven dark
star's eyes were shining. Elrond looked at her, a bit of worry. But Arien smiled at him, eyes pure and white into Elrond's deep
dark ones.
Arien, Maia of Sun… sunset in her hair as Sun drove into the last days, Laurelin last glow shining over the Promised
Island…
- Come to see us soon! Don't you dare to pass near and don't come to see me, do you hear!- Arwen said goodbye happily,
some days after.
- I promise, my lady Arwen!- she sung at the wind, fading quick as a dream in the dark green hills around Rivendel.
And as the proud black stallion took away the messenger of pale eyes and fey hair, Elrond looked to her retreating profile from
her balcony against the sun of spring, and wondered, waiting, his prophetic eyes trying to stare at sun without blinking.
Now I've got you in my sights.
© Hungry Eyes - Carmen Eric
Dirty Dancing Soundtrack