Well... I have no excuse. To portray my shame, I will just say

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Chapter 11

*Manwë. This is not good.* Námo watched as Eruanna walked out onto the stage with Ecthelion and both bowed, to the applause of the crowd.

*What is amiss, Námo?* Manwë answered calmly, the rest of the Valar listening as well through ósanwë.

*Something is causing Eruanna to retrieve the muscle memory of her training faster than she should be.* The Judge of the Dead answered, and there was a moment of confusion from the rest of the Valar.

*But how is that possible? We made sure that it would take a year for her new hroä to adjust!* Irmo said, bewildered.

*I know. And by all rights she should not even be remembering Ciaran yet, but that memory had come a while ago.* Námo added darkly. *I thought that perhaps it wasn't to be too concerned about, but this is too much to be coincidence.* He said.

Manwë thought, sending Námo a feeling of acknowledgement. *I agree. Perhaps we should ask her for permission to run a test.* He said, and then paused. *But I do not understand, Námo. What do you mean, "too much to be coincidence"? This is only the second thing, is it not?* And they could all feel his 'frown.'

Námo sighed. *No. The other thing is that- Ciaran has not yet left. Not only does he seem neutral at the notion of leaving, every time I convince him to go there is no room left on the ships. Not one.* He answered.

There was a brief silence through the ósanwë frequency as the Valar thought on the implications of that statement. Then Irmo sighed. *I hope that she will agree to the test. It might provide answers.* He said, and the matter was dropped for the time being.

The whole conversation took place in the space of less then a minute, so when they focused on the dais, the two had just settled their music sheets on their stands and were lifting their flutes to their lips.

Nessa studied them interestedly. *I wonder what piece they devised for this event.* She noted, but before any of them could answer, the two began.

Ecthelion took the lead first, with Eruanna playing the accompaniment. His notes started out breathy, with the sound of faint breezes that slowly went into a crescendo. Eruanna's underlying tune rose slowly and steadily, the notes firm and strong, a tree that grew taller and stood firm. As Ecthelion's wind grew stronger into rushing winds and a storm that buffeted Eruanna's tree, their notes crashed against each other in a rising and falling battle.

Then their tunes melted into each other until they united in harmony, the tree bending compliantly to the wind and rain that rose and dipped, supporting the tree. Leaves were scattered and carried by the wind in whirling patterns of sound that Ecthelion coaxed from his flute. Eruanna's eyes were closed, and her fingers drew forth the sound of the sighing leaves of the tree. The wind died down, and the tree faded into the distance.

Eruanna's flute rose to the forefront, it's sharp notes cutting a sharp tune that scintillated quickly, rising higher and higher as her fingers flew over the keys. Ecthelion added a sense of mingling darkness in his undertone, and sent chills down the audience's spines: not of fear, but of awe for the mystery that the bright, vibrant notes created among the dark backdrop.

Eruanna's tune vibrated with a clear, joyous song, dancing in place, taking a step to the left and a step to the right, up and down the night sky of Ecthelion's flute. There was a sense of openness in the simplicity of the tune, of a wide space for imagination and freedom of expression. But the stars danced on in their set courses as they revolved around the scales and finally faded behind the light of the rising sun.

As the stars slowly gave up their reign of the dark skies to Arien, Ecthelion once more took the lead. His slurred tone once more took over, the sound of a rising, stirring earth waking from slumber, unaware of the previous evening gaiety in the sky. They slowly grew more alert, and Ecthelion began to coax the plants out of the ground. Eruanna slowly grew the creeping vines and blades of rising grass.

By now the audience had caught on to the purpose of the piece and were roaring in appreciation. They quieted quickly, but not before calling out the name of the Valar that had been honored. There were shouts of "Manwë, Varda, and Yavanna," while the Valar smiled in pleased surprise.

Ecthelion came down from the skies and became the bubbling creeks, while Eruanna meandered about the banks, skipping like a butterfly from flower to flower. Then she melted into Ecthelion's tune and they became the roaring rivers, flooded from Manwë's storms and rushing to the sea in a mad pursuit for space. They tripped over each other's tunes, fighting for the surface and sinking below each other's currents. Then they reached the sea, and Eruanna rushed into the ocean while Ecthelion became the soft, persistent surf of rising and falling notes.

Ulmo smiled as his name was murmured among the rest of the crowds.

Then they both dived. They delved into the bottom of the ocean, prodding with sharp, searching notes, questioning rises in the tune. They dug and searched, the objects in question finally being dredged up from the depths of the earth. Eruanna's crisp notes went up and came back down in choppy bursts, little circles of repeating sound on her flute. Ecthelion rose between her rises and went up before going back down, turning back on itself. It crackled in the turns of sound, until Eruanna stopped her incessant hammering and rose into a tree once more.

Ecthelion's notes scythed, breathily swishing and coming back to do it again. Eruanna's flute gave bursts of sound as Ecthelion continued his chops. The harvest of the year. The crowd roared for Aulë, who smiled and extended his forge-hardened arm in a small wave.

Then Eruanna's tune fell, crashing noisily in a string of disjointed tunes that crackled and jumped every which way, while Ecthelion blew a triumphant sound on his flute. Eruanna's tune morphed into a steady beating of the sound of hoofbeats, while Ecthelion continued his call and slowly grew in volume as the hunter neared his prey.

There was a sharp twang of sound from Ecthelion, who skidded to a halt and played low and soft, while Eruanna's tune broke its steady flight and crashed, coming to an abrupt halt. In the brief silence, the Elves whooped in exhilaration for Oromë, who chuckled in the wake of the musical hunt.

Then Ecthelion's flute began to wail, and Eruanna's flute played low and mournful. Both players were completely immersed in their playing, neither of them opening their eyes or looking at the crowd. Their lament grew slowly, while Eruanna let out plinks of sound like tears as Ecthelion hiccuped and sighed in sadness and regret.

Irmo chuckled and nudged Nienna, as she glared at him and then smiled warmly for the whistling elves.

Their lament grew fainter, and then became a little more cheerful, slowly bubbling into an irresistible tune that was quickly recognized by the elves as a popular dance. It grew in volume, urging the elves until they were clapping and tapping their feet. Soon some were whistling and cheering, and the two players threw their song into another loop as their audience cheered for Nessa, who nodded with a smile and tapped her own feet.

Ecthelion and Eruanna lined up their tunes, with Eruanna up high and Ecthelion down low, and abruptly began their charge. Eruanna came barreling down while Ecthelion charged up, and when they met in the middle of the three octaves, it was with a shrill shriek of sound. They staggered back through the octaves in the way they came, disoriented and jumbled from the breathtaking joust.

Tulkas grinned broadly as the Elves shouted his name in jubilation and excitement.

Then Ecthelion's tune began to lightly step through the octaves, while Eruanna groaned in screeching notes of pain and discomfort. Ecthelion tiptoed to Eruanna's tune and slowly began to whisper in a soothing, mysterious piece, and Eruanna's groans turned into mumbles and sighs before she drifted off into a low tune of contentment.

Estë smiled as her name was whispered through the crowds.

Then they fell into currents of dreams that swept them away on its golden and silver waves of heaviness. Dreamt suggestions of pleasantness and all manners of sweetness drifted through the air, and the crowds smiled as Irmo was honored through the paean of praise.

Then they slowly drifted up to the surface, and began to slowly whirl in a dance that grew faster and faster, until one could barely see Ecthelion and Eruanna's fingers moving over the flutes. They danced in rejuvenated energy and the freshness of youth from the rest, until they stopped, Ecthelion's flute breathlessly laughing as Eruanna's tune giggled. Vána smiled as Oromë chuckled as the elves tittered with light laughter from the infectious tune.

And then the tunes began to go over again, weaving a section from each of the previous stanzas together until they overlapped into a single piece of harmony. Eruanna weaved her pieces into Ecthelion's music as they worked together on the loom of music that they had created together. Vairë nodded in appreciation as the crowds smiled and whispered her name.

And then slowly, a new tune emerged from the mesh of others, and Eruanna faded away as Ecthelion was left to play alone. It was a soft tune and gentle, as Eruanna lowered her flute and slowly stood from her stool, walking to the front of the dais.

Then, eyes still closed, she began to sing.

If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses.

Sink me in the river at dawn; send me away with the words of a love song.

A sharp knife of a short life, well, I've had enough time.

Lord Námo, make me a rainbow, to shine down on my mother.

She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors.

And oh, life isn't always what you think it ought to be, no.

Isn't even grey but she buries her baby.

The sharp knife of a short life- well I've had just enough time.

If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down...

Eruanna's voice trailed off, and Ecthelion let out one last note of farewell. Then he stood and stood next to Eruanna, and they turned to smile at each other in unveiled relief. There was a moment of silence as they turned and bowed to the Valar and other royals.

And then everyone stood, and began a thunderous applause that even the royal family took up, Finrod and Sador whistling in appreciation. Eruanna and Ecthelion grinned and bowed once more as Arafinwë stood and made his way to them on the platform. He allowed a moment more before raising his hand, and in a few moments the crowds quieted and he began to speak.

"Thank you, Eruanna, Ecthelion, for your astounding performance. I'm sure that we all enjoyed it very much." He gave a wry grin to the crowd, who again went into an uproar. He raised his hand once more, and went on when they stilled.

"I congratulate you both and thank you for putting such effort into your music. It is to be commended." Then he smiled at them benevolently as the two bowed and made their way back off of the dais with their papers to the cheering of the crowds.

When Eruanna finally made it to the antechamber, she carefully placed her flute down with shaking hands and then promptly collapsed on the floor in a puddle of relief. Her papers were scattered where she knew not, though through hazy eyes she could see Esgal carefully picking them up in his teeth and placing them in a neat pile to the side.

Ecthelion picked her up and buried his face into her hair, and they clung to each other, crying and laughing in mingled relief and joy. Then they sank into an exhausted heap on chairs, taking deep breaths as the adrenaline wore off and they regained their wits and bearings. Esgal whined eagerly and pranced about Eruanna, who smiled weakly and hugged the excited wolf.

"Thank you, Esgal." She rasped. Then she suddenly leaped up as though she had been pricked by one of his claws and ran to the mirror, pulling her hair down from the tattered ribbon and instead tying it around her wrist. Then she rumpled up her hair until it was in haphazard waves around her face, and looked over herself critically.

Ecthelion watched her in confusion as she reached out and touched the sun-in-eclipse on her dress, then shook herself and shook out the folds in the dress. The silver coronet was resettled on her head in a rakish look, and then she looked to Esgal, and they both disappeared out the small door that led out to the stands of wares outside.

Eruanna quickly wended her way through the tables until she reached the one that sold ribbons, thread, needles, and other such materials. The elleth at the stall smiled and bowed to the elfling, who nodded back with a distracted smile.

"May I please have a length of deep purple ribbon?" She asked hurriedly, and the elleth cut some for her. She gave the elleth a silver coin and slipped away again, winding her way back to the antechamber. When she got there, it was to see the royals looking for her.

Eärendil scooped her up. "Where have you been, child?" He asked softly, not upset.

She smiled apologetically. "My apologies, my lord. I needed to get something." She answered, and with a nod and fond kiss, he set her down.

She immediately went to Erestor who was standing by a bit awkwardly. He bent, and she handed him the worry string. "I'm sorry I was late, 'Restor. But I wanted to keep my promise." She said with a small smile, and he took it gently with his thin fingers.

"Thank you, Eruanna." He whispered. She let out a light laugh and leaned up to kiss him on her tiptoes before going back to Esgal and slumping against him in weariness.

Finrod scooped her up. "Are you well, Eruanna?" He asked in concern.

She made to nod, but abruptly stopped, feeling dizziness overcome her at the movement. She suddenly felt very, very ill. "I- I-" she couldn't speak, feeling the blood drain from her face.

Finrod immediately placed a hand on her head. "She feels warm." He said grimly. Eruanna looked at him, her eyes unfocused.

"Finda... Need- need lord Irmo..." She whispered, before going limp in a dead faint.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

The Valar stood about a small cot that Eruanna lay upon inside the royal pavilion. Irmo was sitting by the side of the bed as Esgal whined softly at the foot of the bed.

"Hush, Esgal. She will be alright." Oromë comforted, stroking the wolf. Esgal stopped whining, but still stared at the elfling, huddling by her feet with his ears flattened. The others were worriedly standing by the doorway, out of the way but still able to see Eruanna's form on the bed.

Irmo shook his head with a frown. "She has gone into a coma. For some reason, her feä has retreated deep within herself." Then he turned to Arafinwë and Ecthelion. "Has she seemed at all thoughtful or reclusive as of late?" He queried. All of them shook their heads.

"Let me see." Námo suddenly said, and took Irmo's place. As soon as he touched her head, however, Eruanna shied away from his hand, crying out in distress. Námo frowned and pulled his hands away. "Now, child, is that any way to treat your Atto?" He asked sternly, and reached out again. But Eruanna thrashed, attempting to get away from him, and he was forced to retreat.

Manwë sighed. "Be ready, Oromë, just in case." He said grimly, and the Hunter nodded, prepared to chase Eruanna's errant feä if it decided to sever from her hroä.

"Arafinwë, I need your permission and Eärendil's to run a test on her. We cannot wake her up to ask her." Manwë spoke to the two, who nodded gravely.

"If you think it best, lord Manwë." Arafinwë answered.

"Of course." Eärendil added calmly. Ecthelion fidgeted, and Eärendil placed a comforting arm about the distraught ellon. "Do not fear, Ecthelion. The Valar know what to do." He murmured, and Irmo nodded approvingly before turning to Eruanna.

He, Estë, Námo, Oromë, Ulmo, and Manwë gathered about the small form, and Estë immediately drew up the chart of the elflings vital signs. "Here." She said, and pointed to a shape of a twisted ladder with multi-colored rungs on them. "Ulmo, check her DNA for any abnormalities. Oromë, keep watch and check her blood. Námo, Irmo, check her feä with me." She ordered, and they immediately responded.

The elves watched in increasing bewilderment and amazement at the different things that were being done. Ulmo was doing something with the strange ladder-like figure, while Oromë was studying a chart suspended in the air that had many different figures on it. A meter seemed to slowly go up and down, while a line fluctuated and let out a steady beeping noise. A flow of red through a narrowed tube indicated blood.

But their attention was drawn to Irmo and Námo and Estë. Finrod sidled slightly closer to see, and Irmo stepped aside with a smile for the ellon. The suspended image was that of an orb that fluctuated with a blue-green color, ringed in gold and silver. Ecthelion let out a noise of surprise and moved next to Finrod.

"That's what she looked like in Mandos!" Ecthelion exclaimed in surprise, and Námo nodded,

"Indeed. This is her feä, which is what you saw in Mandos." He answered calmly, and Estë moved the image to another part of the orb, zooming in on it.

"And this is the area where bonds to others are formed." Estë added, and they could see threads that trailed off to where they could not see. Estë sorted out the different threads.

She pointed out a very thick, golden thread mixed with blue. "This is Glorfindel." She said, and then pointed to another that was a deep, grey-blue mixed with silver that was also thick. "This one is Ecthelion." And she smiled at the ellon. "This one is Finrod." She said, pointing to one that was rather delicate, a silver-blue color mixed with pale gold. "And this one is Erestor." She noted, pointing to one that was a dusty-grey mixed with deep purple.

Then they saw one that was tattered and frayed, snapped off close to its origins but still distinguishable. It was a royal, crushed blue color, also shot with liquid green. "This was once her bond with the mortal Aragorn." Estë noted.

"How did it break?" Finrod asked curiously.

"It was greatly weakened when she left Arda and entered Aman, but it ultimately broke when she passed into my halls." Was Námo's answer. Finrod nodded in understanding.

"But what is the purpose of looking at her bonds?" Arafinwë spoke up with due respect.

"Because there are things concerning our little elfling that you do not yet understand. This may be the reason that she collapsed." Irmo replied firmly yet gently.

"Here." Estë broke in, and they looked to where she was pointing. They saw a very thin string, small but still obviously rather strong. It was the color of honey held to the sunlight, mingled with an intense blue and shot with grey.

Estë gasped. "How is this possible? This bond should have been like the one with Aragorn a long time ago!" She exclaimed. Esgal's head popped up and his ears pricked at the sound of her voice, and he growled lowly. Oromë placed a hand on his head.

"Try to break it." Manwë commanded calmly, and Irmo looked askance at the Vala.

"But Manwë, if we break it, that could cause repercussions that-"

"I know, Irmo. But try to break it anyway." Manwë answered.

"What!? You cannot just break a bond like that!" Finrod exclaimed, and Varda placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Watch, Finrod. Trust us. We care for her just as much as you do, perhaps more. Manwë knows something, and he is trying to make them see it. Trust us." She murmured gently. Finrod nodded jerkily and turned to watch. Ecthelion swallowed.

Námo stepped forwards and held his hand towards the image, another hand extended to Eruanna's head. The strand on the suspended screen began to bend as though placed under a knife, and began to fray slightly. Eruanna's still-comatose form came to life, thrashing.

"Her vital signs are peaking." Oromë informed them grimly. Esgal was snarling at Námo.

"Status." Irmo barked, placing a hand on Eruanna's head.

"Heart rate acceleration to hyper speed; blood pressure rapidly rising, currently at one hundred ten; mental distress acute; adrenal gland kicked in; and all signs pointing to possible flat line." He rattled off, eyes darting across the screen.

"There are abnormalities in her DNA." Ulmo spoke up breathlessly, and several of the elves started, having forgotten that he was there.

"Can it wait?" Irmo asked, and Ulmo shook his head.

"You should know this, I think, before you try to sever the bond." He answered, and went on. Námo was still attempting to cut the bond. "Her DNA shows the normal traits, along with the few differences that are shown in the Reborn compared to the Onceborn. But what is abnormal, even for a Reborn, are these." The image he pulled up was of the same twisted ladder with colored rungs, but this time there was a different sequence of colors in one section of the ladder.

Námo suddenly let out an inarticulate noise, and everyone's head whipped to him, to see that the image of the bond was glowing. There was a blue fire on the screen that was mending the frayed strands with astonishing speed. Námo released his hands, and the bond stopped fraying and the pale blue fire disappeared, the bond still whole.

There was a momentary silence among the Valar. The elves hardly dared to breathe for fear of breaking the silence. Esgal quit snarling, though he still sat alert, hackles raised. Eruanna stilled.

"Highly unusual." Oromë said calmly. "Her vital signs are once more normal."

The silence broke. "That was not coincidence. That bond is meant to stay." Irmo said gravely.

"Manwë?" Námo turned to the Vala, who gave them a thin smile. "Apparently Atar agrees, Irmo." Was his only answer. Námo sighed.

"But it's never been done before, Manwë." He said in irritation.

"Now, Námo, don't make excuses. You know it has, twice before, in fact." Manwë chided gently. Námo gave him a withering look that made the elves go pale.

"They came over the sea, not back from Mandos." He gritted out, and turned back to Eruanna. Manwë merely shook his head.

"What does all this mean?" Ecthelion blurted, unable to hold himself in check any longer.

"Come here, child." Estë said gently, and Ecthelion came forwards hesitantly. Estë led him before her chart.

"See this bond?" She asked, and he nodded. "Námo was trying to sever it because it should not even exist, by all rights." She explained. "It should have been cut, like the other one you saw. But when Námo tried to cut it, you saw the blue fire that stopped him." She went on, and Ecthelion nodded wordlessly again.

"That was the sign of Eru Ilúvatár Himself. It is not His will that this bond be broken. And nothing can happen that is outside His will." She said gently, and Ecthelion swallowed and nodded.

"But... What is that?" He whispered, pointing to Ulmo's chart.

"Ah... That will have to wait for another day." Estë answered with a fond smile.

Irmo was studying the mysterious chart. "You're right, Ulmo." He murmured. "Those are highly unusual. Can you pull up the tests we did of Eärendil?"

Another set of ladders appeared. Irmo pointed out two sections of the DNA. "See? These are the same. And this section is the mental blueprints, not physical." He said, and then pointed to yet another sequence of colors. "These are genetic memories. There's something off about it." He went on thoughtfully.

"Because they've been altered." Ulmo answered the unspoken question. "They've been slightly changed."

"There's no more time to talk about it, her vital signs are showing that she's waking." Oromë said impatiently.

The charts disappeared. "I've saved them." Irmo reassured, and they waited for Eruanna to wake, leaving the rest wondering at the import of the previous events.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Eruanna woke up with a splitting headache that felt like one of Ciaran's razor-edged knives dragging through her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a broken moan of pain. Something snuffled at her feet and whimpered, and when she reached out, her hand met fur.

"Esgal." She whispered. She could feel her companion's worry in her mind, and wanted to soothe it. "I-" she tried to open her eyes, and a fuzzy light slowly came into focus. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was. Then it all suddenly came back in a rush. The performance, the string, her collapse-

She tried to sit up, panicked, then fell back with a grimace as pain ricocheted through her skull. "Esgal- lord Irmo-" she tried, and a cool hand was on her forehead. The pain ebbed until there was only a dull ache left, and she sighed in relief.

She opened her eyes and saw lord Irmo standing over her with a slight smile. "Are you feeling well, child?" He asked.

She blinked stupidly for a moment, then opened her mouth to answer- and snapped it shut with a frown. Was she? There had been the distinct feeling of something wrong with her when she had collapsed, but... "I- I think so." She whispered, looking up with confusion. Námo appeared and drew a hand through her hair.

"Good." He said gently, and she immediately relaxed to see him. Then she suddenly realized that she felt a pinching in her lower stomach. With a frown, her hand went to cradle it, and she rubbed it unconsciously. Then she started. A feeling of utter wrongness overcame her for a moment, and she nearly panicked. But then it faded, and she shook off the dregs of whatever had overcome her and looked to Esgal.

She tilted her head, then smiled and hugged the wolf. Finrod scooped her up, and she held on to his neck in surprise as he hugged her. "Are you well, Eruanna?" He asked softly. She blinked, then nodded.

"I'm sorry to make you worried." She whispered sheepishly.

"No, child. We are here to take care of you." Arafinwë spoke, and she nodded, being passed around from one to another gently. But inwardly, she cried in sorrow for her brother, though she knew not where he was or when he would return.

None but Esgal noticed the look that passed between the Valar.