This is a continuation of the story begun in Gilrond's Children, also
posted at fanfiction.net.
Disclaimer: I get no profit from Professor Tolkien's characters, I just like to take them out to play for awhile.
Chapter 1: Dunthalion
The little one was crying again. Elrohir listened for a moment, then wearily tossed back the bed coverings and put his bare feet on the wooden floor. After three months he had become attuned to every sound made by this tiny bundle of needs and demands. He jerked awake several times a night just to go check and make sure nothing was amiss with the lad. He felt as if he were on constant guard duty, with no relief in sight.
As he walked into the adjoining chamber to discover what the little one needed now, he met Calmae in her night shift and robe answering the cry from her room nearby.
"It is all right, Calmae. I will take care of him this time. You go back to sleep." Elrohir said kindly.
"It is no trouble, my lord." Calmae said, starting into the room. "Sounds like he needs changing and that is no job for you."
Sighing inwardly, Elrohir stepped in front of the determined nurse. "Calmae, I think I have shown you that I can care for Dunthalion without dropping him on his head or otherwise damaging him."
He looked steadily at her. "I value your help and advice. But I am his father and however much you love him, you are not his mother." He saw with regret how the older woman went white with pain in the dim room, but he had waited almost too long to set this boundary. "Go to bed, please. We will talk more in the morning. I will take care of the baby."
With that he turned and went to pick up the very soggy and very unhappy son of Eloessa, his beloved.
********
In the first days after Eloessa's death, Elrohir wandered about in a fog. He rarely let the baby out of his sight, but allowed Calmae and assorted maids under her direction to handle the actual day to day care of the infant. The routine was foreign to his experience and he lacked the desire in those first days to learn more. Galadriel watched him with concern but in his black grief, he was unaware of her observation.
Eloessa's burial in a small grove of golden mallorns overlooking the Anduin and the consecration of her soul to the Halls of Mandos had passed almost without his notice, though he had been present for the ceremony. Within him burned a constant rage against the fate that tore from him the only woman he had ever loved. But when he held his son in his arms, the dark tide of despair receded, for a time.
The laments composed for Eloessa were sung for the requisite seven nights under the stars. Elrohir stood with the group of chanting Elves, who included Galadriel and Celeborn. Eloessa was well loved and her friends were many. He did not sing, however, but stood in the cold starlight each night with Eloessa's son in his arms, as if he were waiting for something, absently rocking and caressing the baby. Calmae protested that the frosty air was not good for the newborn but Galadriel quietly made sure the infant was well wrapped and did not interfere.
But on the seventh night he seemed tense and restless. The last lament faded away and the mourners poised to disperse. Suddenly, Elrohir whispered to the child in his arms, then pointed up at the velvet darkness above Lothlorien. The gathered Elves looked to see where he gestured. It was the season when the Remmirath, the Netted Stars, were in the north.
But tonight, one seemed to be shining brighter than the others. Those standing near Elrohir heard his soft message to Dunthalion. "Your mother will look upon you all the days of your life, little one. You will know it when you see the brightest star in the Remmirath, shining down on you." Elrohir kissed Dunthalion who looked back at him with eyes both innocent and all-knowing. "Now it is time to take our rest, for tomorrow we start our life together as a family."
Without acknowledging the sympathetic but puzzled Elves around him, he turned and walked in the direction of the talan formerly occupied by Eloessa. Calmae, casting doubtful glances at the sky, followed in his wake. Celeborn watched his grandson for several moments, then murmured softly to Galadriel. Together they walked slowly from the clearing, disappearing at last into the darkness.
Disclaimer: I get no profit from Professor Tolkien's characters, I just like to take them out to play for awhile.
Chapter 1: Dunthalion
The little one was crying again. Elrohir listened for a moment, then wearily tossed back the bed coverings and put his bare feet on the wooden floor. After three months he had become attuned to every sound made by this tiny bundle of needs and demands. He jerked awake several times a night just to go check and make sure nothing was amiss with the lad. He felt as if he were on constant guard duty, with no relief in sight.
As he walked into the adjoining chamber to discover what the little one needed now, he met Calmae in her night shift and robe answering the cry from her room nearby.
"It is all right, Calmae. I will take care of him this time. You go back to sleep." Elrohir said kindly.
"It is no trouble, my lord." Calmae said, starting into the room. "Sounds like he needs changing and that is no job for you."
Sighing inwardly, Elrohir stepped in front of the determined nurse. "Calmae, I think I have shown you that I can care for Dunthalion without dropping him on his head or otherwise damaging him."
He looked steadily at her. "I value your help and advice. But I am his father and however much you love him, you are not his mother." He saw with regret how the older woman went white with pain in the dim room, but he had waited almost too long to set this boundary. "Go to bed, please. We will talk more in the morning. I will take care of the baby."
With that he turned and went to pick up the very soggy and very unhappy son of Eloessa, his beloved.
********
In the first days after Eloessa's death, Elrohir wandered about in a fog. He rarely let the baby out of his sight, but allowed Calmae and assorted maids under her direction to handle the actual day to day care of the infant. The routine was foreign to his experience and he lacked the desire in those first days to learn more. Galadriel watched him with concern but in his black grief, he was unaware of her observation.
Eloessa's burial in a small grove of golden mallorns overlooking the Anduin and the consecration of her soul to the Halls of Mandos had passed almost without his notice, though he had been present for the ceremony. Within him burned a constant rage against the fate that tore from him the only woman he had ever loved. But when he held his son in his arms, the dark tide of despair receded, for a time.
The laments composed for Eloessa were sung for the requisite seven nights under the stars. Elrohir stood with the group of chanting Elves, who included Galadriel and Celeborn. Eloessa was well loved and her friends were many. He did not sing, however, but stood in the cold starlight each night with Eloessa's son in his arms, as if he were waiting for something, absently rocking and caressing the baby. Calmae protested that the frosty air was not good for the newborn but Galadriel quietly made sure the infant was well wrapped and did not interfere.
But on the seventh night he seemed tense and restless. The last lament faded away and the mourners poised to disperse. Suddenly, Elrohir whispered to the child in his arms, then pointed up at the velvet darkness above Lothlorien. The gathered Elves looked to see where he gestured. It was the season when the Remmirath, the Netted Stars, were in the north.
But tonight, one seemed to be shining brighter than the others. Those standing near Elrohir heard his soft message to Dunthalion. "Your mother will look upon you all the days of your life, little one. You will know it when you see the brightest star in the Remmirath, shining down on you." Elrohir kissed Dunthalion who looked back at him with eyes both innocent and all-knowing. "Now it is time to take our rest, for tomorrow we start our life together as a family."
Without acknowledging the sympathetic but puzzled Elves around him, he turned and walked in the direction of the talan formerly occupied by Eloessa. Calmae, casting doubtful glances at the sky, followed in his wake. Celeborn watched his grandson for several moments, then murmured softly to Galadriel. Together they walked slowly from the clearing, disappearing at last into the darkness.