Gilrond's Children: Steadfast of the West
Chapter 2—News from Home
Elrohir sat on a simple flet high in the branches of a mallorn some distance from Calas Galadhron. Dunthalion lay on the platform under his foster father's watchful eye, waving his pudgy hands and feet in the air, happy to be free of his wrappings. Dappled summer sunlight filtered through golden leaves, throwing dancing bits of light across Dunthalion's face and dark hair. The boy smiled then laughed in delight at this miracle.
Elrohir's heart caught at the smile, so like Eloessa's. But the laughter was wild and free and wholly the boy's own. Elrohir grinned to hear it. He plucked a leaf and waved it just out of reach of his son. Dunthalion surprised his father by accurately seizing the leaf, tugging at it with ferocious concentration.
"How strong you are!" Elrohir exclaimed with pride. "You will wield your sword with great power, my little warrior."
Elrohir sniffed. An unpleasant odor emanated from the little warrior, who continued to giggle to himself. Elrohir shook his head, checking the boy's garments and grimacing. "Your grip is not the only thing strong about you."
Elrohir retrieved the needed items from the boy's large pack. Even a brief outing like this one seemed to require enough supplies to equip a three-man patrol for days. But, experienced soldier that he was, he had pared the items down to the barest necessities.
Elrohir stripped Dunthalion of the soiled garments with efficiency, and cleaned him off. "What has Calmae been feeding you?" he queried in a conversational tone. Dunthalion, a good-natured child, merely squirmed and made a sound something like "Murrp", as the damp cloth pursued all the boy's nooks and crannies.
Reaching for the clean clothes he stiffened when he heard sounds below the flet. Someone was climbing up.
Any resident of Lorien would have called up to announce their coming, but there had been no cry. Elrohir swiftly bundled Dunthalion into the sling across his chest that the baby had occupied during the climb up the tree. He cursed himself for coming out with only a long knife for protection. He drew it in silence, poised near the opening in the platform with lethal intensity.
A head covered in thick dark hair appeared above the floor of the flet. Elrohir held his knife ready but did not immediately strike. It appeared to be not an Orc, but an Elf. The Elf placed his hands on the platform, pulling himself up gracefully to stand in front of Elrohir.
The Elf gingerly pushed the knife aside with his finger. "Is that any way to greet your brother?"
"Elladan! Well met, indeed." Elrohir sheathed his knife and seized his twin in a swift embrace, mindful of the baby between them. "When did you arrive? What news from Rivendell?"
Elladan, alike in appearance to his brother save that his eyes were brown rather than gray, returned the heartfelt hug. For many decades, the twins rarely spent time apart, enduring long years in the wilderness hunting orcs to avenge their mother and to keep Imladris safe. Until last year when Eloessa had come to Rivendell, the brothers had not been separated in over a century.
Elladan emerged from the embrace but kept his hands on his brother's shoulders, looking searchingly into the eyes of his twin. Elrohir gazed back steadily, not trying to hide his grief or the changes that caring for Dunthalion had wrought in him. Changes that Elladan was not yet sure he understood.
Elladan drew back, his expression solemn. "Glorfindel delivered your messages to Father. We were all grieved to hear of Eloessa's death. Arwen composed the laments herself and all Rivendell gathered to mourn. They are calling Eloessa the Broideress of the Golden Wood. She will be long remembered in Imladris."
Elladan squeezed his brother's shoulder in comfort and then released him. "I grieve with you, my brother. Though I knew not the cause until Glorfindel returned, I felt your anguish these many months. Though your burden of despair seemed a bit lessened of late." He looked at the baby snuggled in his sling across Elrohir's chest. "I would venture that this is the reason?"
Elrohir allowed his pain at the mention of Eloessa to pass for now. "Yes. This is your new nephew. He is a fine lad who will no doubt take after me and be a great leader and warrior." Elrohir grinned at his brother. "And no stories of how we drove our parents to distraction. My son will be a model of intelligence and decorum, unlike his uncle."
Elladan snorted. He peered into the little boy's light blue eyes, startled to find them the exact shade of the mother's. "Pay no attention to this pompous clod, my boy. When you are ready to learn to be a real warrior, come see me." He looked up at his brother inquiringly. "You have not told me his name."
Elrohir looked surprised then realized, "That's right, Glorfindel left so soon after...." Elrohir paused a moment, remembering the chaos and despair of that time. He continued in a quiet tone. "His mother named him Dunthalion."
"Steadfast of the West," murmured Elladan softly, giving the boy his knuckle to gnaw on. "Trying to dispel any doubt as to his allegiance, I wonder?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" said Elrohir sharply. "The name is a fitting one, but my son does not have to prove anything about who he will serve. He is an innocent child!" He looked at his brother with a coldness that had never before passed between them. "I will personally answer any aspersions cast on Dunthalion, for it touches not only his honor but my own. That applies even to you, Elladan."
Elladan did not respond, but wondered to himself, "And will that apply even to our own father?" Elladan uneasily remembered the messages he carried from Elrond to Lord Celeborn regarding this infant whose fate now loomed so large in their lives.
He sighed and said aloud. "I meant no offense, Elrohir. I'm sure Eloessa's son will take after her in valor and spirit." He watched carefully, keeping his expression neutral until he saw his brother relax. "Although I think Dunthalion's honor may have just stained your shirt."
Elrohir looked down and groaned at the large wet spot spreading across his front. From his sling, Dunthalion smiled innocently while Elladan laughed aloud.
********
Dunthalion, changed and dry once more, slept in his father's arms. The brothers walked back to the city, at ease with one another as if no hard words had been spoken.
As they neared the gate, horns sounded overhead. Elladan looked questioningly at his brother, who shrugged. The horns blared again, sounding the call for warriors returning from a long absence. Elrohir stepped aside for a moment and collared a member of the city guard, hurrying past them. The guard delivered his news in a low voice then darted away. The brothers exchanged troubled looks, knowing now for whom the horns sounded.
The sons of Gilrond had returned.
Chapter 2—News from Home
Elrohir sat on a simple flet high in the branches of a mallorn some distance from Calas Galadhron. Dunthalion lay on the platform under his foster father's watchful eye, waving his pudgy hands and feet in the air, happy to be free of his wrappings. Dappled summer sunlight filtered through golden leaves, throwing dancing bits of light across Dunthalion's face and dark hair. The boy smiled then laughed in delight at this miracle.
Elrohir's heart caught at the smile, so like Eloessa's. But the laughter was wild and free and wholly the boy's own. Elrohir grinned to hear it. He plucked a leaf and waved it just out of reach of his son. Dunthalion surprised his father by accurately seizing the leaf, tugging at it with ferocious concentration.
"How strong you are!" Elrohir exclaimed with pride. "You will wield your sword with great power, my little warrior."
Elrohir sniffed. An unpleasant odor emanated from the little warrior, who continued to giggle to himself. Elrohir shook his head, checking the boy's garments and grimacing. "Your grip is not the only thing strong about you."
Elrohir retrieved the needed items from the boy's large pack. Even a brief outing like this one seemed to require enough supplies to equip a three-man patrol for days. But, experienced soldier that he was, he had pared the items down to the barest necessities.
Elrohir stripped Dunthalion of the soiled garments with efficiency, and cleaned him off. "What has Calmae been feeding you?" he queried in a conversational tone. Dunthalion, a good-natured child, merely squirmed and made a sound something like "Murrp", as the damp cloth pursued all the boy's nooks and crannies.
Reaching for the clean clothes he stiffened when he heard sounds below the flet. Someone was climbing up.
Any resident of Lorien would have called up to announce their coming, but there had been no cry. Elrohir swiftly bundled Dunthalion into the sling across his chest that the baby had occupied during the climb up the tree. He cursed himself for coming out with only a long knife for protection. He drew it in silence, poised near the opening in the platform with lethal intensity.
A head covered in thick dark hair appeared above the floor of the flet. Elrohir held his knife ready but did not immediately strike. It appeared to be not an Orc, but an Elf. The Elf placed his hands on the platform, pulling himself up gracefully to stand in front of Elrohir.
The Elf gingerly pushed the knife aside with his finger. "Is that any way to greet your brother?"
"Elladan! Well met, indeed." Elrohir sheathed his knife and seized his twin in a swift embrace, mindful of the baby between them. "When did you arrive? What news from Rivendell?"
Elladan, alike in appearance to his brother save that his eyes were brown rather than gray, returned the heartfelt hug. For many decades, the twins rarely spent time apart, enduring long years in the wilderness hunting orcs to avenge their mother and to keep Imladris safe. Until last year when Eloessa had come to Rivendell, the brothers had not been separated in over a century.
Elladan emerged from the embrace but kept his hands on his brother's shoulders, looking searchingly into the eyes of his twin. Elrohir gazed back steadily, not trying to hide his grief or the changes that caring for Dunthalion had wrought in him. Changes that Elladan was not yet sure he understood.
Elladan drew back, his expression solemn. "Glorfindel delivered your messages to Father. We were all grieved to hear of Eloessa's death. Arwen composed the laments herself and all Rivendell gathered to mourn. They are calling Eloessa the Broideress of the Golden Wood. She will be long remembered in Imladris."
Elladan squeezed his brother's shoulder in comfort and then released him. "I grieve with you, my brother. Though I knew not the cause until Glorfindel returned, I felt your anguish these many months. Though your burden of despair seemed a bit lessened of late." He looked at the baby snuggled in his sling across Elrohir's chest. "I would venture that this is the reason?"
Elrohir allowed his pain at the mention of Eloessa to pass for now. "Yes. This is your new nephew. He is a fine lad who will no doubt take after me and be a great leader and warrior." Elrohir grinned at his brother. "And no stories of how we drove our parents to distraction. My son will be a model of intelligence and decorum, unlike his uncle."
Elladan snorted. He peered into the little boy's light blue eyes, startled to find them the exact shade of the mother's. "Pay no attention to this pompous clod, my boy. When you are ready to learn to be a real warrior, come see me." He looked up at his brother inquiringly. "You have not told me his name."
Elrohir looked surprised then realized, "That's right, Glorfindel left so soon after...." Elrohir paused a moment, remembering the chaos and despair of that time. He continued in a quiet tone. "His mother named him Dunthalion."
"Steadfast of the West," murmured Elladan softly, giving the boy his knuckle to gnaw on. "Trying to dispel any doubt as to his allegiance, I wonder?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" said Elrohir sharply. "The name is a fitting one, but my son does not have to prove anything about who he will serve. He is an innocent child!" He looked at his brother with a coldness that had never before passed between them. "I will personally answer any aspersions cast on Dunthalion, for it touches not only his honor but my own. That applies even to you, Elladan."
Elladan did not respond, but wondered to himself, "And will that apply even to our own father?" Elladan uneasily remembered the messages he carried from Elrond to Lord Celeborn regarding this infant whose fate now loomed so large in their lives.
He sighed and said aloud. "I meant no offense, Elrohir. I'm sure Eloessa's son will take after her in valor and spirit." He watched carefully, keeping his expression neutral until he saw his brother relax. "Although I think Dunthalion's honor may have just stained your shirt."
Elrohir looked down and groaned at the large wet spot spreading across his front. From his sling, Dunthalion smiled innocently while Elladan laughed aloud.
********
Dunthalion, changed and dry once more, slept in his father's arms. The brothers walked back to the city, at ease with one another as if no hard words had been spoken.
As they neared the gate, horns sounded overhead. Elladan looked questioningly at his brother, who shrugged. The horns blared again, sounding the call for warriors returning from a long absence. Elrohir stepped aside for a moment and collared a member of the city guard, hurrying past them. The guard delivered his news in a low voice then darted away. The brothers exchanged troubled looks, knowing now for whom the horns sounded.
The sons of Gilrond had returned.