Just as a note: This was originally going to take place at Yule, but to be honest I don't actually know jack about that and I don't want to embarrass myself. So, this is now Mettarë/Yestarë, which is the New Year celebration. This will count as my Christmas fic though, because according to the good Professor the elves did not celebrate Midwinter, so New Years is the closest they have :)
Theme #95 of the 100 Themes Challenge: New Year.
This is taking place sometime in the Third Age, following the same general timeline of Far Longer Than Forever, that Ereinion was returned from the dead. However, this is not necessarily how events will unfold in that storyline ;)
I am quite proud of how well this flows, considering that I started it before Christmas last year and have been writing it on and off since then.
"How fares your wife? I heard she took ill a few weeks ago."
As soon as the question left his lips Elrond regretted it. Usually someone would reply with a simple, 'fine, thank you', with perhaps a few sentences of explanation. But no, the old shoemaker was extremely fond of talking, and gave Elrond a full blow-by-blow account of his wife's illness and subsequent recovery, which the elf Lord stopped listening to after five minutes. The shoemaker was known to the elves of Rivendell as Ascanto: rushing mouth, for the reason that once he started talking, he rarely stopped. After the old man had deviated a mile away from his original point, Elrond still nodded and 'hmm'ed when the occasion called for it, but he wasn't really taking in the words. His hand strayed to his throat, where his fingertips encountered a small locket decorated with an elaborate filigree pattern depicting two letter E's wrapped around each other and surrounded by tiny leaves and stars. It had been commissioned in the Second Age for Elrond by Ereinion, as a Yestarë gift, and every year since Elrond had worn it for the duration of the New Year festivities, hidden from sight under his formal robes.
Ereinion thought it was slightly funny that he still wore it, and Celebrían - while she had lived on Arda - had also found it amusing. But in the early years after the King's death it had been a small comfort to Elrond, and after that it simply became habit, tradition. The habit had become so strong that sometimes Elrond found that he was wearing the locket but had no recollection of putting it on.
Elrond glanced across the room at Ereinion, who was draped over an overstuffed armchair - right leg over one chair-arm, left leg on the ground, and back resting against the other chair-arm - with a glass of what looked like whiskey in one hand and a small box in the other. He was staring intently at whatever was in the box with a slight frown on his face, as if he were considering the pros and cons of some situation. Elrond wondered briefly what was in the box and on the former King's mind, then he realised that Ascanto was still talking. He drew his gaze back to the man, who was obviously oblivious to Elrond's inattention. The half-elf sighed inaudibly and slipped the locket back beneath his collar, turning his full attention to the man.
"...of course, I never had any doubt that she would survive," Ascanto said, finishing his story.
Elrond smiled. Impeccable timing, Peredhel. "That woman could withstand an Oliphant stampede."
"That she could, that she could." Ascanto glanced towards the door, brightened at the sight of whoever it was, and excused himself from Elrond's presence.
Elrond inclined his head as the old man got up and rushed off, then slumped in his chair and downed the rest of his wine. Finally, some peace. The half-elf took the locket out again and looked at it closely, taking in some of the finer details. It really was a magnificent piece of work, as was the pair of miniature portraits inside: one of Ereinion, and one of himself. Painted at a tiny size, the detail and likeness was truly amazing. Elrond would never know why Glorfindel did not paint professionally; he was better than most of the painting masters. Elrond looked back at Ereinion, planning to go over and hide in the corner with him, but hesitated when he saw that his lover was talking to Círdan. Just then an elf from the Mirkwood party came up to him and Elrond was obliged to make small talk once again.
"How fares your wife? I heard she took ill a few weeks ago."
Elrond's words were audible to Ereinion even from across the room. Asking Ascanto that was a mistake, Ereinion thought. Elrond would be there for hours, with the old man's love of talking peoples' ears off. Sighing, the former king took a mouthful of whiskey, grimacing as the liquid fairly burnt his mouth and throat as he swallowed. He was going out of his mind. He had to find a way to get to Elrond before dawn, before the vigil began. However, a seemingly endless stream of dignitaries, well-wishers and other guests were monopolising Elrond's attention, making it impossible for Ereinion to even approach. The former King slipped a hand inside his tunic pocket, his fingers closing around a small black velvet box. He pulled it out of his pocket, flipping it open and appraising its contents.
The box held a finely crafted mithril ring set with an oval-cut ruby that was flanked by four small, round diamonds on both sides. It was something of an engagement ring; or at least, it would be if Ereinion ever found the nerve to voice the necessary question to Elrond.
Ereinion glanced up at the half-elf, who was paying no attention at all to the man in front of him, looking intently at the locket that he still wore at Mettarë/Yestarë every year instead. Ereinion smiled to himself. It was cute that Elrond still wore it, and had done so every year since it had been given to him, by Ereinion himself. Ereinion often teased his lover about it, but Elrond never gave in to the jests. Sometimes, Ereinion thought that Elrond didn't even realise he wore it, it had become such a strong habit. At any rate, it was nice, and it made Ereinion all warm and fuzzy inside to think of it.
Ereinion turned his attention back to the ring, unaware of Círdan's approach until the bearded elf spoke. The words sounded muffled in Ereinion's ears and he looked up, his eyes wide in surprise at the sight of his foster father. "Huh?"
Círdan smiled and looked down at the elf he thought of as his own son. "I said, you clean up well."
"Oh." Ereinion glanced down at his clothes, an ankle-length, sleeveless black tunic decorated with a quilted diamond pattern, worn over a long-sleeved pale blue undershirt and black leggings. "Thanks."
Círdan crouched down so as to be more at Ereinion's level, slumped as the younger elf was in the armchair. The bearded elf crossed his arms on the arm of the chair and shifted position so that he was kneeling as opposed to crouching. He was old, and crouching was not quite as easy as it used to be.
"What are you so looking so intently at?"
"An engagement ring," Ereinion replied with a sigh.
Círdan's eyes widened. "My dear Ereinion, are you think of popping the question? Finally?"
Ereinion sighed again and snapped the box closed. "Maybe." He took another swig of whiskey. "If I ever get the nerve. Valar, I haven't been this nervous since my coronation." He slumped further in his chair and ran a hand over his face. "Actually, I take that back. That was a walk in the park compared to this. I mean, what if he says no?"
Círdan fixed Ereinion with a look. "You must not know him at all if you think he'll refuse you."
"But he's already been married once. What if he doesn't want to do it again?"
Círdan idly scratched his chin. "By the old traditions, he's been married to you for most of his life."
"Yes, and Thranduil too," Ereinion muttered darkly.
The old elf laughed softly. "Have hope, my son. He will not say no - after all, I take it this is no more than an officiation of your relationship?"
Ereinion nodded. Círdan smiled. "Well then, you could say he has already said yes." He patted the dark-haired elf on the shoulder and went to leave, but was stopped when Ereinion grabbed his hand. Ereinion smiled gratefully when the elder elf turned back to him.
"Thank you, Ada."
Círdan's face brightened at the title, and he leant to kiss his foster son on the forehead. He straightened up and, with one last smile, headed over to the main crowd of people and melted into it.
Ereinion sighed and stood up, stretching and wincing slightly as his joints cracked in protest to the sudden change of position. He finished his drink and placed it on the table next to the chair he had been sitting on, and decided that he was not going to wait for people to stop talking to Elrond. He was going to go over there and invent a situation that would require Elrond's immediate attention, and steal the half-elf away. He crossed over to the other side of the room and smiled a greeting to the Mirkwood official. He politely waited for the wood elf to finish his sentence and then deftly cut in.
"Elrond, can I borrow you for a moment? I've just been informed that a small fight has broken out between a few of the Men and your presence is required to break them up." He grinned on the inside and silently congratulated himself. That was nice. Very smooth.
"Of course," Elrond replied. He turned to the Mirkwood elf and excused himself, and then followed Ereinion out of the hall and into the garden. He noted without surprise that there was no fight and glanced at Ereinion, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Thank you. I thought I would never get away from them."
"You're welcome," Ereinion laughed. He surreptitiously glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then slid an arm around Elrond's waist and led him around to the side of the house. The hedge in front of them would look impassable to those who did not know better, but Elrond and Ereinion did know better and they slipped through an almost-invisible gap into a more private part of the garden.
"So," Elrond said with a mischievous grin as he leaned against the wall of the house, "Is there a reason that you've spirited me away to this intimate setting?" the soft glow from the lights in the tree on the other side of the gate-hedge played across the private garden, casting a gold aura around the couple.
"Do I need a reason?" Ereinion asked, slipping one arm around Elrond's waist and pulling the shorter elf towards him, their faces mere inches apart.
"No, not necessarily."
"Hmm," Ereinion pressed a row of kisses to Elrond's jaw line and neck. He spoke against the peredhel's skin, "Perhaps I got jealous at all of those people who were stopping me from monopolising your attention."
Elrond laughed. "That would explain the way you have been watching me all night."
Ereinion smiled against Elrond's collarbone and straightened up, maintaining their proximity. "I did actually have a reason for bringing you out here tonight."
The half-elf raised an eyebrow. "You mean you weren't just planning to bring me out to a secluded corner of the grounds and have your wicked way with me?"
It was Ereinion's turn to laugh. "As inviting as that sounds, there will be plenty of time for that later. Besides, I need to do this before the vigil starts and I lose my nerve."
Elrond glanced up at the stars and analysed their position. "Well, I'd say you have half an hour before everyone comes outside for the vigil. I don't know about you, but to me that seems like plenty of time to have your wicked way, and you'll have enough left over to do whatever it is you need to do."
"Persistent, aren't you?"
"Mm-hmm."
Ereinion smiled and lightly touched Elrond's nose. "Later, my love. Now, close your eyes."
Elrond raised an eyebrow again and Ereinion mock-glared. "Close them. And keep them closed!"
"Alright, alright!" Elrond obediently closed his eyes, and covered them with a hand for good measure. He felt Ereinion take a step away from him, and then the older elf's tunic rustled, as if he had just sat down on the ground.
"Must do this properly," Ereinion muttered. A strange creaking sound, and then, "Alright. Open them."
Elrond opened his eyes, blinked to clear them, and realised that Ereinion was not where he thought he would be. Glancing down, he saw that Ereinion was down on one knee, holding a small black velvet box that was open to reveal an engagement ring. Elrond gasped softly when he saw the ring and regarded Ereinion with a slightly confused look. Was this what he thought it was?
It's now or never. Heart pounding, Ereinion cleared his throat. "Elrond Peredhel, will you marry me?"
Elrond's slight smile turned into a grin.
"Yes! Of course!"
Ereinion laughed and stood, reaching for Elrond's left hand. Elrond notice the relief in the sound as he presented his hand to Ereinion.
"Surely you did not think I would refuse?"
"Well, no, not really. But a small part of me was afraid you would." Ereinion took the ring out of the box and slipped the ring on the fourth finger of Elrond's hand. The half-elf admired the ring in the soft light.
"It is beautiful."
He looked up at Ereinion with a smile, and then leant up and kissed the taller elf. He moved a hand up to entangle it in Ereinion's hair and the former King wrapped his arms around Elrond's waist. The kiss ended but they kept their foreheads resting against one another, relishing the quiet romance of the moment.
"I love you," one of them whispered.
"I love you too," the other replied.
Their private moment was interrupted by the horn that signified that it was time to for the vigil, and the couple went back to the main party to help with the distribution of the candles that would be given to every elf to call in the New Year.
By the time the first signs of dawn were visible, all the elves of Imladris had gathered outside of the main gates, facing the east where the sun would come up through a gap in the mountains. Their candles were lit, and they waited silently for the sun to come up. Slowly, the horizon turned pink and Arien peeked through the gap in the mountains, and the elves, though in no real doubt that the sun would rise, turned to their neighbours with relieved smiles and well wishes for the New Year.
Elrond and Ereinion, standing together a little in front of the main group, stood close so that their entwined hands would not be visible to the others. Ereinion carefully raised their hands to kiss the back of Elrond's. He smiled at his soon-to-be-husband.
"Valin Yestarë," he whispered.
"Valin Yestarë," Elrond replied, returning the smile.
The sun rose higher and minstrels began to play the first notes of a seasonal carol. A few of the elves began to sing and the former High King and the Lord of Imladris joined in, welcoming not only the New Year but the next stage of the life that they shared.
Valin Yestarë = Happy New Year
The old traditions are sex = marriage. I don't have anything against it as a custom, but I don't use it because it's much more fun if the elves can sleep with more than one person in their life without being married to them all. ;)
If you want to see a picture of what the ring is supposed to look like, it's the preview image for this fic on my deviantART account. You can see it at: idance(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/2-095-New-Year-190739624