Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places, languages, or ideas of Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful JRR Tolkien. I'm only borrowing them because I love them so much.
Author's Note: This is yet another companion piece to Twin Spirits. The idea is solely thanks to my dear sister and cousin. I went to hug my sister goodbye a few days ago (she was leaving for uni again) and accidentally poked her in the face with a butterfly clip I had in my hair. My cousin made a comment and somehow the entire event spawned a rabid plot bunny. Something about Dúnë running up and hugging Ada and poking herself in the eye on his butterfly clip…insane, if you ask me. It would never happen. But it created this sweet moment in my head, and I felt compelled to write it. Even if I'm the only one who ever reads it. J
A note: Cuteness galore warning.
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In all his years upon Arda, he still could not comprehend how something so small could be so beautiful. And how he could have grown so attached to it in a matter of months.
She was just so perfect. In every way. Had he felt this way with Arwen? He supposed he must have; she had been his first-born daughter after all. But it seemed the miracle of so small a living being was still enough to awe him into hours of silence.
"Meleth nin, I know you wish to stand there until the end of Arda staring at her, but the poor child is hungry and wishes to be nursed. I shall return her as soon as she is full." Celebrían stood next to him, a look of thorough amusement on her face. He could hear Glorfindel snickering in the corner.
"Very well, if you must," and with a heavy heart he handed over little Dúnë to her mother, the expression on his face conveying his belief he would never see her again.
"I will not leave the room meleth." Celebrían smiled indulgently at him and all but dropped Rómë into his arms. "Here is one who can make up for Dúnë's absence."
They were identical, in every way, and he could not understand why he seemed so much more in awe of the eldest twin. He gazed down at his youngest, eyebrows narrowed as if trying to discern some slight imperfection in the cherubic face. Nothing; she was as perfect as her sister. So why didn't he seem to be staring in open-mouthed awe at this one too? He tried to recall his twin sons shortly after their birth, and suddenly a faint glimmer of understanding surfaced. He had always been close to Elladan, although he had thought it was only for the reason that he was the eldest. But no, that could not be the full reason. He stared harder at his youngest. Ah, perhaps that was it. Being the elder twin himself he felt more connected to his two elder twin children. That could only be the reason. And it would explain why Elrohir and Arómenë seemed so drawn to their mother, even at birth.
His youngest, sedated after her feeding was dozing soundly in the curve of his arm. So sweet, so innocent; how could he possibly protect this small thing from all the evils of Arda Marred? It seemed nearly impossible. And yet, Arwen was over four centuries, and as far as he knew she was happy and content and was all but unknowing of much of the cruelty that went on outside of Imladris' borders. At least he hoped that was so. But the thought comforted him nonetheless, and he felt reassured of his ability to protect his two newest children's innocence.
So caught up in thought was he, he barely noticed when Celebrían appeared at his side, Dúnë held in her arms, also soundly asleep as only a newly fed infant can be. He took her back with his left arm, the body so small he could almost hold her in one hand; but he made no move to relinquish Rómë to her mother. Cel smiled at him and kissed him softly on the cheek before returning to her seat. He noticed Glorfindel was snickering again, but deigned to ignore him. He'd had years of practice after all.
Did any of it really matter? The sun was setting red above the trees to the West, the Valley was quiet and peaceful, and he had his two daughters in his arms; safe, if only for tonight. He would face tomorrow, tomorrow, and hopefully, they would grow up protected and safe from the outside.
He snickered to himself softly as the memory of his two trouble-finding sons came to mind. Then again, perhaps he'd have enough of a challenge protecting them from things inside the Valley.
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The sound of the door to his study hitting the stone wall as it was thrown open startled him out of his thoughts. He looked down at the parchment he had been filling and noticed a rather sizable inkblot at the end of his last sentence. He put the quill down with a sigh and turned around to face his visitor.
In hindsight he should have simply let her continue to sneak up behind him and attempt to surprise him, but he was tired of it and slightly annoyed that she had once again slammed open the door.
She was only inches behind him when he turned; having snuck up in an attempt to look over his shoulder and see what he was about. His sharp turn towards the elfling gave her a face full of hair and an eyeful of the butterfly clip he used to tie his hair back. She yelped in pain and stumbled back, her hand flying up to her eye as she started to cry.
Elrond immediately was on his feet and taking her into his arms. He pried her hand away to see what damage he had managed to caused. But she turned her head from him and kept her eyes screwed shut.
"Dúnë, iell nin, please. I am sorry I injured you; it was not intentional. I did not realize you were so close. Come let me see what I have done." He tilted her chin up to meet his eyes as she cracked them open. The left one was red from crying but appeared not to be damaged. Her right eye however, also red from her tears, had a small cut at the far edge that was bleeding lightly. He breathed a sigh of relief that it appeared he had not caught her full in the eye. "Hush tithen min, you are fine. 'Tis only a small cut." He dabbed at it with the silk of his sleeve, thanking whoever was listening that he had worn a deep crimson robe that day. "I am sorry," he repeated again, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. She blinked through her tears and looked at him.
The expression on her face was one of unrivalled hurt. So intense was it, and obviously mostly faked that he started to laugh. The hurt expression intensified, but a smile touched her eyes and she stopped her crying.
"I will not sneak up on you anymore, Ada," she promised. She hugged him tightly as she wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her dress; pale blue he noticed. Celebrían would be thrilled when she found the bloodstain.
Andúnë never again attempted to sneak up on her father. And from that day forth, Elrond wore the clip only on formal occasions or when they valley was graced with guests.
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meleth nin: my love
ada: daddy
iell nin: my daughter
tithen min: little one
