Hurray! Another chapter! Thank you, my lovely beta-reader Leggyrespect! You drive me to desperation sometimes, but the end result makes me always happy and proud. Thanks for helping me improving and re-inventing this story over and over again.
Guest reviewer Catrin from Switzerland: thank you so much for your long review. I felt flattered and flustered. And to all the reviewers in general: I am so happy with each and every one of them. It really gets me going. So please keep it up!
And to D'Elfe: darn it, you beat me to it! (and in turn I would like to recommend D'Elfe's awesome story: Inocence's Journey.
Chapter 11: Elrond sat in silence, his mind in ...
Elrond sat in silence, his mind in disarray. He had not been subject to such conflicting emotions since his Celebrian departed Middle Earth. An Elf of his age was foremost a spectator of the world and where he could be such, a guardian and healer. But the years of abiding ran short for the Elves in Middle Earth, he could feel it; the Age of the Elves was nearing its closure.
Still, he was vigilant, evermore watching the patterns around him, reading the myriad of possibilities, penetrating the veils of sight to search for things that moved unseen. And now, an event that had escaped his sight, an alien presence, had managed to enter his realm, forcing an unpleasant surprise on him, concerning his sons. Absently, he fingered the ring on his hand. Tonight, he felt wary, as if all the years he had walked Middle Earth suddenly pressed upon him in full force.
For the tenth time that evening, he revisited the arrival of his wounded son and what he learned while working on the arrowhead that had planted itself solidly into his bone. Elrohir was rambling feverishly, displaying a deep fear of losing this girl. He had not thought his son capable of connecting to a stranger intimately within a mere few weeks.
And when Rin entered the healing ward, his sons doom emerged in his foresight, inevitable, for with his sharp perception he recognized not only the beginning of a bond between them, but between the girl and Elladan as well. Nor his sons, nor Rin, seemed in acceptance of the connection between them. Rin, being mortal would experience the bond less prominently. But his sons. His sons seemed to deliberately ignore the pull of their hearts.
The display of affection had moved him greatly, even now, sitting in his study. He had given up hope that his sons would ever embrace love after centuries of denying it. Tears burned behind his eyes when he thought of the pain that his sons buried deep within them.
Staring into the living flames he sighed, for there was much to be troubled about. Even though he could see the possible and most likely conclusion of the things set in motion, the path towards that fulfilment was not clear as if shrouded in shadows.
A bond forming would be a thing to rejoice in, but this involved his sons and nothing went easy with them. And now chance had bound them both to the same mortal. And therefore, despite the joy he felt, he already mourned his sons, for the doom of their passing was certain now, whatever fate they chose.
Being Half-Elven, he passed his burden of the choice onto his sons: they could choose mortality over immortality if they wished it, shortening their suffering when the girl would meet her death. Or they could live the youth of the Eldar if so they chose. But what was that choice, facing mortal love? When the girl passed, both his sons or one of them would fade from a broken heart. Either way, he would lose them all too soon. Or would their damaged fëa, hungry for revenge, fight this pull of love once again? He sighed at the possible outcome of that scenario.
During the past centuries, potential bonds had formed thrice with either Elrohir or Elladan, but they disconnected such bonds before they could damage their togetherness or come in the way of their revenge. They did it ruthlessly and without mercy. An act with great personal risk and an even greater risk for mental health of the concerned Elleth.
Both occasions caused strong public opinions, after which they simply disappeared for some years, seemingly not caring, finding comfort only in each others company or roaming the wilderness with the Dúnedain. The Elleths in question, had suffered severely, but survived in the end, the premature disconnection their saving.
His sons remained unscathed because of their bond and the importance of their revenge. It gave them the strength to fight against love against their own happiness. And so the strength that kept them sane when his wife passed and they went mad with grief, turned into a self destructive force when facing love. But they did not care, they had shut themselves of from love willingly, keeping their emotions simple and straightforward, finding consolation only with each other, shunning other Elves, living only for revenge.
He could still see them clearly in his mind's eye. Their white faces, stern, devoid of emotion, when they announced their plans that bleak autumn day. He had no faith in their improbable rescue of their mother from a fate worse than death. They had proved him wrong.
His old mind remembered, unable to hold the images of the memories abay. Their blazing eyes, the fight in the hallway, their harsh words towards their sister and himself. Enraged by their mothers capture, they rampaged on a suicide mission, leaving them unaware of their true intentions: to save her or die. They returned changed, their search for revenge consuming them.
His mind wandered again to Elrohir's arrow wound. Even now, after all those centuries he was baffled by their recklessness and instinct for self destruction. The last time they left, they had not taken shields nor bows, claiming it was no 'sport' to be thus well armed. Worried and angry, he had send scouts after them, but as always, they had vanished in the wilderness and it would take a dozen of rangers to find them there. He was relieved that it had ended with an arrow shot in Elrohir's shoulder. It could have been worse.
The girl that had wormed her way into his sons' hearts within just a few days, was a mystery. He could feel her presence behind his line of sight, but was unable to truly see her. And now the path of his sons was unclear, as if her presence cast a shadow on it.
Her appearance, with delicate features, slanted eyes, ink black hair, high cheekbones, slightly toned skin, was alien to him. Her clothing was of an unnaturally even and smooth fabric of the highest quality, her sword of extraordinary craftsmanship. Her fighting style, as Elladan had reported to him, had no comparison in Middle Earth.
And then there was the lantern, made of a material that was not from Middle Earth and which felt strange and cold to his hands. The mechanism unlike anything that he ever saw, not even the enemy could have made it.
All these observations emphasized his deeply rooted suspicions that she could not be from Middle Earth. He had never encountered her kin. But he had sensed some of the light of the Valar in her. Could it be that the Valar chose to deliberately put this girl in the vicinity of his sons? Was she a Maia? The purpose of such an intervention of the Valar was unclear to him. He longed to discuss the matter with Mithrandir, who was travelling still.
Apart from her connection to his sons, she seemed to possess valuable knowledge of the One Ring of Power. "It will be found", those ominous words still echoed in his mind.
A sharp knock on heavy wood sounded and Glorfindel entered his chambers with soft steps. The chill of the night air in his wake made the flames wiggle nervously in the hearth. His golden hair reflected their life.
He poured himself a glass of wine and took the seat opposite of him, watching him over the rim with steady blue eyes.
Elrond looked at him expectantly. "Well, mellon? What is your impression?"
Glorfindel twirled the wine in his glass, staring at the fire through the lightly colored liquid.
"Her mortal heart speaks to me, it harnesses a great pain inside as well as darkness. It is unclear to me if she knows of it herself. But despite the weaknesses of her mortal heart, she is a most charming and headstrong lady. And despite her darkness, I sense courage and honor in her as well, its light strong enough to blind the dark."
Elrond sighed. "She has captured the hearts of my sons in a mere few days. I fear however, that they are withstanding the bond that is forming. You have seen Elladan's reaction during the banquet. He is pushing her away, with all his might."
Glorfindel took a sip of his wine, staring thoughtfully at Elrond. "I fear your judgement of your own kin is clouded by love and perhaps fear, mellon."
Elrond raised his eyebrow.
"Elladan does not push her away out of fear for love itself, nor out of real jealousy. It is the fear of losing his beloved brother that scares him. Only this can explain the fierceness of this reaction."
"You think them fearing the choice of her mortal heart, that she chooses one over the other? Do they not realise that the bond is already formed between the three of them?"
"You know as well as I do that monogamy is dominant in our ways. A bond between three is unheard of!"
Elrond looked at him sharply. "Indeed, but it is not the first time they wandered off the beaten tracks. If they would be less stubborn, their eyes would open up for the truth and they could embrace it without this painful struggle."
"They might be blinded by fear. I tell you, mellon, they are afraid that this girl will be a wedge between them. They try desperately to be free of it, but they are drawn to her by a force stronger than fear."
"Elladan is not himself without Elrohir."
"That is certain. He is emotionally unstable without his other half."
Elrond sighed again. Taking another sip of his wine. Staring into the fire, he disclosed the knowledge Rin held on the One Ring. "You are intimate with the workings of the enemy. What is your council, Glorfindel?"
Glorfindel sighed, eyes closed.
"My heart is troubled. We all thought it would be lost forever. This is grave news indeed and I fear this knowledge. Having foresight might let us astray from the paths that we are destined to take."
"Indeed, this is a precarious situation. Too much knowledge might let us astray. Still I think we need to know when it will resurface if it not has already. Or do you think me at fault?"
Glorfindel nodded slowly. "Nay Elrond, I see the wisdom in that. Nevertheless, this knowledge must stay hidden. We cannot risk the enemy gaining advantage. Should we inform the White Council?"
Elrond shook his head slowly. "Mithrandir feels wary of Saruman as of late. I will not ignore his instincts. Let us keep this secret until we can discuss the matter with the Grey Wizard and make sure the child is kept safe."
"Your sons will guard her with their lives."
"And take unnecessary risks with her!"
"Still, we cannot keep her prisoner."
"Let us see how this develops before we decide."
"Very well, mellon. Let us watch and wait."
They fell silent. A sudden knock on the door alerted them. A calm Elf entered, in his wake a fully armed warrior, his helmet tucked underneath his arm.
"Lord Tessarion has returned my Lord Elrond." The elf took his leave.
The warrior was an Elf with a tall lean figure, brown hair matching brown eyes, a scar running from above his right eye socket, reaching his jawline. He was one of the High Elves of old, and a Lord in his own right, Captain of the Guard of Rivendell.
He shook his long locks into order before he gazed at Elrond and Glorfindel.
Elrond stood and grasped his arms in welcome. "Well met, my friend. Did you encounter much trouble?"
"Nay Elrond, no more hardships than a regular patrol, though we have seen and heard things that have troubled us deeply."
Elrond frowned, he pulled up a chair and ushered him down, pouring a glass of wine. Tessarion took a sip, closing his eyes in bliss.
"It is good to be home."
"What has troubled you, my friend? You are not easily troubled."
He looked from one to the other. "The orcs are more persistent. Even the Dunedain and their Rangers that venture south, are concerned. They seem to spawn from the Northern Mountains and beyond. A dark force is breathing them to life. It is a nameless force for now, but I fear it, for it feels like the dark of old."
"This is troublesome news, Tessarion. Your suspicions seems to hold truth, for I have seen the growing darkness. Are we still in control of the borderlands?"
"Only barely. The Dunedain Rangers that venture south, aid us as well as they can, and our other allies are alert and carry ill news to us as soon as they encounter it."
Glorfindel sighed. "There goes my well deserved rest, Tessarion. You spoil this peaceful night with your ill tidings."
The others laughed at his quip.
"I am looking for young and energetic Ellons, Glorfindel. I cannot imagine why you feel addressed personally?"
Glorfindel laughed, but Elrond looked thoughtful. "Very well, let us enlarge the Guard for the time being. I will leave the selection to your discretion."
"Very well, there are some I have in mind."
Glorfindel sighed dramatically. "I will take patrol in two weeks. My men need some time to get into shape again."
"I will leave in two days, let us double the patrol's in the direct vicinity."
"My sons have returned home at last. They wish to depart swiftly. What is your council Tessarion?"
"Let them travel East to monitor the enemies movements, it is most needed."
Then, the Elf gave a curt nod. "With your permission, I would like to bathe and rest now."
When they heard the door fall into the lock with a soft click. Glorfindel stared at Elrond. "There is change in the air. These tidings, feel like no mere coincidence knowing the one ring will be found."
Elrond frowned at his friend. "Tessarion feels it as well. He remembers Morgoth's servant as we do. Let us discuss our strategy when Tessarion has rested."
"Rest? You know Tessarion. He will not rest, but drive his men insane with practice. He never rests." He chuckled behind his glass.
Elrond gave his friend a small smile. "Let us give attention to problems more close to home: let us hope my sons will learn to embrace love before it is too late. Let us hope they do not pass their self destruction onto this girl."
Glorfindel smiled. "Do not lose hope. I feel it is not mere chance that Rin happened upon their path. She is very capable to shake some sense into your sons. She cornered Elladan on the terrace in a very frightening manner this evening." he laughed merrily, standing, to leave Elrond to his troubled thoughts.
In the doorway he turned and said softly: "And I think your sons underestimate her, just as you do." And then he closed the door softly behind him.
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She was expecting Elladan to seek her out, after their fight, but he did not. Angry with herself, she kicked the bedpost in her room. She was sitting here, like a demure female, waiting for the guy to come and apologize. That was not like her at all!
She felt trapped by Elrond's kindness and their appointment for the next day. She hated not feeling free to leave or stay. At home, she would just pick up and leave for training or for her uncle's cabin.
Sighing she undressed and climbed into the soft bed, cursing Elladan to hell and back. The soft blankets felt nice against her skin.
Her dream started as something bright, too bright. It was a brightness that made her suspicious. And soon she fell into a familiar pace of the events that were normal in this particular dream. At first it was painless, soundless and emotionless. She saw her parents fall from a distance. She did not feel the knife that stabbed her over and over again, carving ugly lines in her back. She did not feel her broken arm, the broken jaw and cheekbones. She did not feel his breath hot in her neck. She did not hear his voice in her ear, the words long suppressed and forgotten.
But then she caught sight of a girl with ink black hair and a shock went through her, making her heart stop. They locked eyes and a flood of emotion coursed through her ripping her apart from the inside.
She felt all the pain and agony of her little sister being raped on that couch, as if it were her own. She could not look away. Her beautiful face contorted in pain and desperation, her eyes searching hers for aid. But she could only stare while she was helplessly undergoing her own torture.
So much pain. Blood seemed to obscure her eyesight and kept the details vague. Only those pain filled eyes seemed so bright that it hurt her eyes and cut through her soul. And then she saw her falling from the couch, a blur of ink black hair and blood. And she fell again. And again. Like a record with a scratch, she witnessed her little sister falling from that couch for eternity.
She woke up screaming, soaked in sweat, clawing at her hair and sobbing. When she came to her senses she realised that it was a dream. She was in Rivendell, in her quarters. It was a dream.
Still sobbing she hugged herself, the emotions clinging to her like a layer of dirty mud. Her sister's face still burned behind her eyes. It happened so many years ago, but it felt as if it was yesterday. The guilt ate at her very soul. She failed her sister.
With a start she realized that since she entered Middle Earth and slept in the vicinity of the twins she had been free of this nightmare. But it seemed that in her solitude, her past crept upon her as of old. It was a familiar pain, a welcome one, to ease her guilt. But it was never enough, there was not enough pain or suffering in her life to cleanse her of this guilt.
When the pain eased somewhat, she dressed herself and walked outside. The sky had exploded into a mass of stars, there was no moon visible. Underneath the vast black dome sprinkled with stars, she sat on the ledge of the terrace, breathing in the cold night air. Slowly she calmed.
The only remedy for this was an intense workout. She took off her sandals to start her power yoga flow on the cold stones. The cold air felt good on her overheated skin and she moved until her breath was ragged and sweat dripped from her face. She moved until she collapsed through her arms, her legs started trembling and she could not lift her arms any longer. Exhausted, she sat with her back against the stone wall, her senses numb, her brain turned off and she welcomed the black nothingness that took hold of her.
The soft voice of Glorfindel woke her. She lifted her head bolt upright, blinking up, her hand automatically searching for her katana.
His eyes were concerned but he smiled nevertheless. "Do not be startled, Rin. It is only I. I wandered along your chambers to see if you were awake. I did not expect to find you sleeping outside of them."
She blinked at him. "I could not sleep inside those walls and did some exercises outside. I must have fallen asleep afterwards." She stood, her muscles sore.
He nodded in understanding, although she recognized some hesitation underneath his acceptance.
"Sometimes we need the free air and might of the night's sky to put our minds at ease." He stared at her. How odd was this. What had kept her thus awake and distracted that she felt obliged to do exercises outside in the middle of the night? The white circles of dried transpiration were still visible on her clothes and skin. What kind of trigger was needed for such harsh self discipline he wondered? Would Elladan's rejection hurt her this much? Or was it linked to the darkness that he sensed inside her?
They got distracted by the sun that was slowly rising, a dull greyish light illuminating the valley, highlighting shards of fog and droplets of moisture on the lands. Standing there, mesmerized, taking the sight before her in, she realized Glorfindel seemed just as mesmerized about the view as her. He must have seen this view a thousand times over already, but he was taking it in as if it was his first time.
Noticing her gaze, he turned towards her and laughed loudly; a joyous clear sound. It lifted her spirits instantly and she could not help but to smile back at him.
"Tuck away the discomforts of the night and get that magnificent blade, Rin. What was it called again? Katana?"
Her smile turned into a grin. She couldn't help it. Here was an Elf Lord, ancient and powerful, and he was willing to spar with her! She practically ran inside to get her katana. Maybe she could kick his ass!
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
The training grounds looked crisp in the morning air. they were not the first, several elves were sparring already. Some of them eyed the pair curiously. She wondered how strange they must look, the shining tall figure of Glorfindel all white and golden and her own small form, her head barely touching his shoulder, dressed in black and indigo blue, her hair black as ink, her eyes dark, her skin slightly toned.
In turn she stared at the elven warriors amazed, their movements seemed effortless, smooth, light and precise. Sometimes so fast that her eyes could not follow. She felt humbled by the sheer display of power, agility and grace. And then she faced her opponent. She swallowed heavily, trying to concentrated and not be distracted by his perfection.
Emptying her mind, she stood poised, her katana tipped towards the ground, her knees slightly bent, her stance strong. She let a sense of calmth invade her mind while she tried to take in the sight of the radiating Elf lord before her without emotion, observing only.
The crisp morning air seemed to enhance the shockingly bright details of him, the delicate creases around his eyes, his sharp but elegant chiseled features, his cornflower irises, his golden locks. He looked down on her, his stance echoing old medieval knight movies, his sword, of elaborate design with a blade curved ever so slightly, he held up straight, optically dividing his beautiful face in two.
She charged without a sound, attacking with a familiar and comfortable set of movements. With satisfaction she noticed the surprise in his eyes, but he parried her without effort. Twirling she used her reverse grip in him, trying to creep underneath his defense, but he was quick and fluid as water.
They fought for an hour, the first half hour she tried to surprise him with every technique she knew. The fight became more than a polite sword fight, when she tried her martial arts movements combined with her blade. The mixed techniques shocked him, but again, he was too quick, his movements graceful, his face impassive, a kick there, a cut here, advancing and retreating.
In truth, she had not laid one blow on him. The sun was high in the sky, she was panting hard, bend in tiredness, her clothes soaking wet from perspiration and he looked as fresh as when they started. Glorfindel was amazing, fearsome, cunning, bold, agile, and just the best fighter she ever faced. True, his handsome features, distracted her constantly. His laughter was contagious and his movements mesmerizing to watch.
She noticed that he was, in his own way, subtly learning her new ways of defending and attacking. And to her amazement she noticed that he had adopted some of her moves into his own fighting style already.
Vaguely she noticed that they seemed to have an audience. A few Elves were attracted by her exotic fighting style and were now watching the fight with bright interest. They radiated joy, their clear voices chatting merrily. Sounds of teasing aimed at her companion, she could discern as well.
Ignoring the attention, she felt sweat pouring down her back, her muscles overheated. To her satisfaction she saw his brow becoming moist as well. He seemed to enjoy the fight in his own reserved way, and in the end he even started to grin, showing perfect white teeth.
When they collapsed on the soft grass panting, she laughed out loud.
"You are like quicksilver! That was a fine fight!"
"The pleasure was mine, dear Rin. Your style taught me humility and I have learned a great deal today from you. Which happens, considering my age, not very often. Quite remarkable and pleasurable I dare say."
"You learned from me? You have got to be kidding. You were untouchable!" she scoffed.
"Then you have not payed attention. You surprised me many times. Your style is very refreshing."
A blush crept on her cheeks hearing such high praise from one of the best swordsman she ever encountered. Standing, he handed her a skin filled with water. The elves around them laughed out loud, calling to Glorfindel in clear voices. His answers were short and caused more laughter until they returned to their own sparring.
Rin drank the cool liquid, feeling refreshed already, watching the retreating Elves mesmerized. What a diversity in looks, some dark, some blond or silver, their features differing greatly. But all amazingly beautiful and almost radiating light of sorts. She loved their contagious laughter and joy.
Glorfindel spoke and caught her attention again: "How are you faring with your companions?"
"I have not seen them since yesterday."
"All will be well Rin, in due time of course."
"You seem to know more than you let on."
"Perhaps."
"That is easily the most irritating answer I heard in years."
He laughed out loud. When he looked at her again he was smiling affectionately. "Such endearing ways of speech you employ. I feel my years pressing on me in the wake of such creative youthfulness." And he laughed again, the sound travelling to her heart like a bubbling wine.
She took another sip of water and then noticed a dark figure leaning against a tree in the shadow of the afternoon sun. Familiar dark hair framed a pale stern face. He wore a dark blue tunic that showed a strip of pale skin, dark pants that made his bare feet stand out. When the figure pushed free from the shadow she recognized Elrohir easily and her heart skipped a few beats.
Underneath the opening in his tunic she could still see white bandages. Surprised at his appearance, she hesitated in reacting to his presence. She wanted to run to him and hug him, but what did he know? Was he aware of her fight with Elladan? Did he share his brother's sentiments? Or was he oblivious?
He was walking slowly towards her, with the smooth grace of a panther. He was wearing his sword with a belt around his tunic, the harsh metal in contrast with the vulnerability of his bare feet. His braids were in place just like she remembered it and she vaguely wondered if they were done by his brother.
He smiled at her ever so slightly and she felt her mood light up within mere seconds. She grinned back and as if it was an invitation, she bolted towards him and embraced him tightly.
She felt rather than heard him chuckle, his hands encircling her waist. She breathed in his scent, so different than before, clean, crisp and sprinkled with herbs.
She took some distance, her hands resting on his arms, to better see him. He looked a bit pale still, certainly in the morning light, but healthy nevertheless.
"Up already?"
"Elves heal quicker than humans." came his cocky reply.
She noticed other Elves watching them with interest and surprise. Elrohir ignored the stares, solemnly winking at her. Then his gaze fell on Glorfindel behind her and he nodded in greeting, a small hint of darkness in his voice.
"I see you are testing the waters?"
"If you call it that, then yes, I am." Glorfindel sounded teasing. "I find them very….. satisfying."
His grey eyes slightly darkened by Glorfindel's answer, he took in Rin's sweating body. She feared that he would act in the same manner as his brother the night before, but he did not. Suddenly his eyes held a mischievous glint and he whispered: "Did you teach him a lesson?"
"I am afraid he won."
"You disappoint me, war goddess. We must remedy your skills then?"
"Are you inviting me for a spar?" she asked incredulously. "You are injured!"
"Sparring will heal me faster, but for now I merely came to tell you that we are summoned to my father's chambers."
She nodded in understanding. Taking one last sip of water, she collected her katana, strapping it to her back. Then she followed him towards a wide staircase up hill.
Before she ascended, she turned towards Glorfindel and bowed to him. "Arigato gozaimasu, Glorfindel-sama."
He seemed to understand the meaning of her words instinctively and returned her bow with dignity. When he raised his head, his eyes twinkled. "It was my pleasure, dear Rin to fight you. I will see you in a while."
Elrohir waited until she started up the steps, before he turned as well, regarding the Elf Lord darkly, biting at him: "Do not tread this path, Slayer, for you have to answer to us."
Glorfindel stared at him, a dangerous light in his eyes and seemingly growing beyond measure in body and spirit. He said with a soft strained voice: "Her heart belongs to herself only, young one. Do not claim that which you fear, without permission."
And with those words, his sheathed his sword, and turned, leaving Elrohir at the bottom of the steps.