Eregion, 1698 SA
An Elf clad in dark green armour over red livery rushed into the tent with all the self-control he could muster. Which, at that moment, was precious little. Inside, upon a low bed covered in as many cushions as could be found, lay another Elf, a mirror image of the first. There was a soft-looking blanket over him, pulled right up to his chin. Only his face and right hand lay exposed. The scent of athelas hung heavy in the air.
"Arwain… my brother," murmured the armoured Elf as he knelt beside the bed in the dim tent.
Arwain's eyes pried open just a bit. "Damwain. You live," Arwain said in a voice that sounded rough and scraping as the sand used to smooth woodcraft.
"Aye," Damwain said, gently taking his brother's hand. "As do you."
Arwain said nothing to that.
"Brother, please," Damwain whispered.
"My Lady's lord calls me, brother," Arwain rasped. "But I could not go until I knew if I should see you there or if I should wait for some time."
Damwain could no longer keep back his tears. "This was not meant to be!" he wept. "It is I who am the soldier, who accepted the perils of battle. Yours was the safer, peaceful life."
"There are no safe vocations when evil comes to us," Arwain said, trying to curl his fingers around Damwain's. "Promise me though, brother, that you will not seek peril. Fight, yes, but fight to live, not to die. And strengthen yourself against grief."
"Will you bid me fight to live while you prepare to accept the call of Mandos?"
"I have no choice, Damwain."
"There are healers here – Captain Elrond, they say, is not only a great warrior, but has great healing in his hands."
"Aye. I have met him," Arwain said and Damwain's shoulders dropped in defeat. "Brother. A refuge is sought, yes?" Arwain asked.
Damwain nodded reluctantly. "That is the purpose of this retreat, that we may reach a place of security from which to regroup."
"A fine house will be built there, a haven for our people. You shall see," Arwain said.
"You have seen?" Damwain said, fighting down a sob. His twin's foresight was well-known and thought to be the gift of Lady Vairë for his devotion to her in his work.
"Aye. A place of beauty and peace and rest and learning," Arwain said wistfully. "A fine dwelling-place."
"Will you not try to stay and see it for yourself, not just in your vision?" Damwain begged.
"I cannot, my dearest. But you can. And so something of me shall go there, too. I must ask you to do something for me…."
"Name it."
"There is a pack there, by the end of the bed, with all that I could save from the city. I beg you take it to Imladris, that our days of happiness shall not be forgot for the sorrows, as our people are often wont to do."
Damwain hesitated to let go of his brother's hand for fear that Arwain might slip away as soon as he was loosed, but he fetched the pack quickly. It was very light. "Brother, all that seems to be here is a tapestry."
"Aye. But it is a very important one. It is unfinished, but… perhaps that is fitting. It was to be for the wedding of Lord Celebrimbor and Master Erestor."
"Have you not heard our lord is fallen?" Damwain said bleakly.
"Aye. And so too may have his beloved Counselor because of this bereavement. But they must not be forgotten only because their union was not scribed into history. Together, they made our realm prosperous and fair. We mustn't forget…."
"Arwain? Brother, no… not yet!"
"I shan't forget either, dearest brother. I will lead the way and await your coming. And I shall go to see my Lady's tapestries…," Arwain whispered, his words growing fainter as what little light was left about him faded to a still, matte pallor.
Imladris, 1701 SA
"We are so glad to have you among us again, Master Counselor," Damwain said. "When Lord Elrond said that you yet lived and would be coming to dwell in Imladris, I almost didn't believe him."
"You might be forgiven your doubts, Seneschal. I myself had the same," Erestor said dryly as he was led up the stairs of the large house. Everywhere throughout the valley, there was work progressing and the establishment of Imladris was coming to fruition. The decorative work here in the House of Elrond was only now underway since the siege was broken.
"Your chambers are this way. They are not far from Lord Elrond's own suite and you shall have a fine vista of the valley as well as light from the south. Your chambers have been prepared for your comfort, but, naturally, you are free to alter any of the appointments as you see fit," Damwain said, taking a key from his pocket with which to unlock the door before them. "All yours, Counselor," he said, handing Erestor the key and gesturing for Erestor to proceed him.
"These appointments seem very nice," Erestor said, looking around the sitting room/study. "Master… I mean, Lord Elrond is most generous."
"Aye. He is. We owe him a great debt," Damwain nodded. "If you will come through, I shall demonstrate the bathing chamber."
Erestor cocked a brow at Elrond's steward. "I am fairly well-versed in the procedures of cleansing oneself, thank you…."
"Forgive me," Damwain laughed awkwardly. "I meant that we have an unusual mechanism here," he said, beckoning Erestor through the bedchamber to the ensuite which was much larger than the nook of the same purpose in the houses of most other realms. It accommodated an ample bathing basin hewn into the wall, large and deep enough for the tallest Elf to recline fully submerged.
"You see, though we have springs and falls aplenty, there is no bath house as there was in Ost-in-Edhil. Instead, water is brought into the House by pipes and valves. A Dwarven innovation, it seems, based on some sort of technique used in mining and milling or some such thing. One may bathe privately in one's chambers at any time. Open this valve and water from the hot springs shall fill the basin. Open the other for cool water. Open both and they mingle for a mild bath."
"How exceptional," Erestor said. "But then, Dwarf craft often is. I am glad to know Mast- er, Lord Elrond sees the value in many different peoples and talents."
Damwain nodded. "I shall leave you to settle in now. Here in this cupboard you may find soaps, oils, cloths, and so on. If you wish, I will have one of your robes made ready for you to wear to dinner."
"That would be appreciated," Erestor nodded. "I'm sure I would come to dinner looking like I'd slept in my garments if I took them right from the trunk."
Damwain went to the trunk of things that had been brought up to Erestor's rooms while Elrond greeted him upon his arrival. Inside were a number of garments – leggings and tunics as well as robes of several different cuts and styles – all of deepest sable, just as were the travel clothes Erestor wore now. Damwain found himself feeling rather guilty as he was reminded that Erestor was an Elf in a protracted state of grief, and that he himself was already beginning to plan for the day he would seek the passage West and wait to be reunited with his brother.
As Erestor followed Damwain back out of the bath, he looked about bedchamber. All tastefully appointed and looking quite comfortable. He would be glad of a rest in that generous, soft bed before dinner, he thought, and was quite grateful to find a bottle of miruvor and a set of glasses awaiting on a small writing desk.
Erestor turned around to thank Damwain for all his thoughtfulness and found himself staring at the last thing he'd ever expected to see here in Imladris – the image of his beloved Celebrimbor. There upon the wall beside the bed hung a large tapestry portrait of Celebrimbor and himself, holding one another's hands, as they would have done had there ever been a wedding ceremony celebrating their love. A depiction of a gleaming Ost-in-Edhil served as backdrop, with the Hithaeglir rising behind. The border of the piece was a garland of holly branches, ending several inches short where the bottom of the piece remain incomplete. It was the first time since leaving Eregion that Erestor had seen the likeness of Celebrimbor and gasped, staggering back as a wave of grief hit him.
"Master Erestor! What troubles you?" Damwain said, catching his shoulder. The new Counselor looked like he'd just seen a wraith and war and siege were not far enough behind for Damwain's comfort.
Erestor said nothing, just stared with tearful eyes, and after a moment Damwain turned to follow his line of sight.
"Oh," Damwain sighed. "I beg your forgiveness. I was uncertain if this piece should cause you upset, but… I thought it belonged with you, Master Erestor, not hanging in the public passages. I will have it taken down and packed away for you at once."
"No!" Erestor cried, reaching out to stop Damwain. "No, please. Do not touch it. It is only that I was not expecting…. It is… quite perfect, and I should not wish it to be anywhere else." Erestor walked over to the wall-hanging and reached up to lightly trace the threads that described the proud, carved features of Celebrimbor as he used to stroke the same face in flesh. "I would not even have it finished to the bottom, for the occasion it depicts never came to pass, either."
"I hope it may provide some comfort," Damwain said quietly, "if any is to be had."
Erestor sighed. "I know not if I shall ever have comfort, but I… I shall treasure this image greatly, even in my sadness. Thank you, Damwain."
Damwain nodded and then, after a moment's hesitation, took from his pocket a small item. "I understand your grief, Master Erestor. At least, in my own way." He passed to Erestor the small portrait of two identical Elves - one holding a needle and thread, the other raising a sword - which he carried with him always.
Erestor looked at it for a long moment before passing it back. "I am deeply sorry for your loss. Arwain was the most skilled weaver upon Arda. And more, a kind and loyal friend to all who knew him."
Damwain swallowed back tears but bowed his head in thanks for Erestor's words. "This was all he brought away when he fled the city," Damwain murmured. "He asked on his deathbed that I bring it here, that you and Lord Celebrimbor should not be forgotten. When I heard that you yet lived, I felt it wrong to leave this as a public memorial. Some things are deeply private, chief among them our terrible personal losses."
Erestor reached out to pull Damwain into an embrace of shared bereavement. "You are very considerate, Master Seneschal. And you are correct. For me, the loss of Lord Celebrimbor is something that I must bear very privately, for all my days. I have already burdened others with seeing me through the worst and I wish not to do so any further. I will keep your dear brother's masterpiece and cherish it. And, please, if there is ever anything I can do for you…."
Damwain shook his head and took a step back. "Thank you for your kindness, but no. It will not be long ere I make the journey to the Undying Lands where Arwain is no doubt rapturously studying Lady Vairë's own work even now. We will see them again, our loved ones. Until then, we have but to hold their memories close."
Erestor nodded and sat down upon the bed, suddenly feeling the weariness of his journey from Lindon.
"I shall have your dinner robes sent up when they are prepared," Damwain said, fetching one of the black items that looked to be the most comfortable style. "Please take your ease. Welcome to Imladris, Master Erestor," he said, leaving Erestor alone in his new home.
Erestor's eyes stayed fixed on the portrait for a long time. Yes, he thought, he could make his home here for quite some time.