High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis
A/N: You know you all just make my day,
don't you? Very well... Da Plan... :D
*throws chocolate elfies all around*
Artanis: *pats Gofi* He is a tricky one, he is. ;)))
Emmica: Elrond is still the serious Elf-lord, don't worry. He just doesn't seem to have much to worry about. Liking Fingolfin, huh? I don't think it's a bad thing per se...
Fiona Rayne: Make the crown. ;)) Hunch monsters don't react very well to side-tracking, I've noticed...
Woman of the Dunedain: It wouldn't be fair if I had Malthon and Ereinion fight. The outcome would be so very predictable... ;))
Alena: Me? Not nice to Ereinion? *shiftly look* Never miiiind...
Danielle: *glomps right back* Elrond is amusing. ;)
kalurien: *watches you* *dies giggling too*
WatcherChild: I think the relationships between the Noldor and the Vanyar and the Teleri and certainly the Sindar exists (haven't focussed on it too much yet though). No animosity between them (ah, maybe a little, for old times' sake ;)), if that was what you meant. :)
Mouse: Hehhe, no Schizo-Gil, don't worry. *offers chocolate elfie*
Loquacious: *gives a new choco-elfie* But you said the evil "H"-word! Aaaaaah! *runs away from it*
morchaint: *blushes* I wouldn't trust me when I'm looking innocent... Hehehe... Chocolate elfie?
Furius: Don't feel deprived... *gives two chocolate elfies*
Lady Harlequin: *pats and slips a box of gourmet elfie goodies*
Rose Red: *gives chocolate elfies* Just don't get chocolate all over the pom-poms... ;))
Anon E. Mus: I'll think about *those* scenes. :)
LoveChilde: Once I truly have something NC-17, I'll hyperlink to it, don't worry. You won't have to miss a thing if it's written. ;))
Desideria: Thankies! :D
ShinElrond: No, you're right, I've always been a lost case where it concerns El & Brí *eats muffins and chocolate elfies and choco-muffin elfies* Yum!
Elarin: Glad I entertain. *bows, chuckles* Ran out of chocolate elfies yet? And blond elves... The dark-haired ones can be a pain, but the blond ones... ;))
Earelen: *gives chocolate elfie and a cookie*
Case: You just go ahead not making sense. ;))
Finch: Glad to you're back *gives several chocolate elfies* And the Council, well, you know, the wise must have their portion of healthy discussion. *tries to look remotely not amused while typing that*
Slight warning: philosophical waxing ahead.
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Chapter Thirteen Conversations
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Elrohir felt slightly guilty as he nodded at his father and the Lord Fingon, who were conversing quietly.
He knew full well that they were both waiting for Ereinion, or rather his father was, Fingon merely keeping him company until the youngest High Prince would finish his meeting.
Something told him, the conversation was definitely not meant for Ereinion's ears. Also the travel-clothing his father wore made him believe something was afoot. He had expected his father to accompany his mother and sister on their journey to the sea-side, but now Elrohir began to suspect him to be otherwise occupied.
Slipping into the private council rooms again, he met Ereinion's gaze for a moment, while one of the councillors was reporting on several points that would be discussed during the next meeting of the High Council.
Curious how loyalties sometimes shift, he said to himself. Not that he would ever expect to have to pick a side. Not between his father and Ereinion, in any case. But nevertheless, on a professional level he was loyal to Ereinion. There was a personal level involved, yes, but the loyalty towards his father, personal too, was nevertheless different.
He watched Elernil, who sat somewhere near, cheeks red and eyes attentive.
It did not seem too long ago when he and Elladan had gazed at their father, Glorfindel and Erestor, in almost the same fashion. He recognised some of the hero-worshipping his son seemed to display towards Ereinion.
With a smile, he sat down and turned his mind to the meeting.
--~~*~~--
'He speaks rarely of it.'
Elrond looked at Fingon.
'He never spoke of it to you?'
'The closest he ever came to truly speaking of it with anyone was with Fingolfin. And you know how they stand opposite each other now. It is why we appreciate your presence, your friendship with him, so much.'
With an understanding expression, Elrond smiled.
'Celebrían says Fingolfin and Ereinion are too much alike to get along.'
Fingon chuckled.
'She might be closer to the truth than anyone suspects.' He returned Elrond's smile, but the rest of his face belied the expression almost at once. Then he nodded. 'Speak to him.'
'I will.'
Greeting Finrod and Glorfindel, dressed for travel as Elrond was, Fingon left the halls, and its inhabitants, no doubt on his way to attend his own council and subsequent meetings.
Still smiling, but somehow as if he had better reason now than before, Elrond observed the two Elves.
'Good-day, my Lords. All is prepared?'
Glorfindel, slyly grinning, held up some garments, and Finrod gave an amused nod.
'All except the most important thing, of course. Or person.'
'The easiest part.' Glorfindel chuckled.
'So you say,' Elrond commented, pursing his lips. 'But be prepared to pick him up and carry him to the stables, if need be.'
'You think that will be necessary?' Finrod enquired.
'At this moment, I have no way to be certain.'
--~~*~~--
Ereinion was not surprised that visitors were announced, and he did not even ask for any names as he gave permission for them to enter. Sitting behind his desk, he glanced over a last document, not able to keep his mind from wandering.
If they would leave in not too long a while, he would be able to make a discreet exit and emerge himself in one of the several interesting books he had recently found in the Great Library.
You are turning into a scholar. He smiled. Better than a politician.
Ereinion looked up at the three Elf-lords that entered the study. He mustered a smile and rose.
'Welcome, to what do I owe this pleasure?'
'We,' Glorfindel said, throwing over riding gloves and a heavy cloak, 'Are here to collect you, my Lord.'
Ereinion caught the items of clothing and then looked from Finrod to Elrond.
He seemed lost for a moment, not able to find words, not understanding.
'I cannot go,' he finally managed.
'Of course you can,' Finrod smiled forgivingly. 'It is only for a few days, and even though the Council Halls will be empty without you, they will overcome it.'
His eyes still not entirely trusting, the High Prince looked at Finrod specifically.
'And where is it we are going?'
Glorfindel walked over and took the cloak from Ereinion, only to drape it over his shoulders.
'That, is a secret,' he said decisively. 'But you will know soon enough. Now, are you coming or forcing us to carry you?'
Helplessly, the High Prince looked at Elrond, who smiled.
'Oh, come, do you not trust us?'
'I trust you, and I think I trust Finrod, but I do not trust him,' he nodded at Glorfindel. 'Especially not when sporting that grin on his face.'
None of the three Elf-lords was able to remain serious at this point, all of them trying nevertheless. Ereinion, putting aside his irritation, shrugged.
'Very well, lead the way.'
'Not very likely,' Glorfindel smirked as he motioned Ereinion to go first, following Finrod and Elrond into the direction of the stables.
--~~*~~--
The past days, the weather had been rather dreary, especially for the time of the year. Nevertheless, as soon as the four riders cleared the gates of Tirion, which were situated at the downside of the Hill of Túna, Anar relinquished her position behind the cloud formations and greeted the Elf-lords with confident rays.
Ereinion could not help but smile, as they made to travel the same way as the light: west.
But where they would have continued west had their destination been Imloth, they now turned south, a route he knew well from his days as his grandfather's messenger.
It was near nightfall that the border of Oromë's woods was reached, and Finrod, without much opposition from anyone, directed they should rest the horses, if only for a few hours.
A small camp was quickly set up, a fire burning before long, and some blankets placed on the ground to sit upon.
The horses they left to wander freely, after Glorfindel had seen to their feeding.
Finrod dealt around cups of wine and some other refreshments, and soon, they settled down and were all staring into the flames.
Resting an elbow on his knee, Ereinion seemed far away, but his voice was clear when he spoke.
'And now we shall have a story,' he looked at Elrond. 'If you are willing to tell us one.'
Smiling, Elrond sat back.
'We shall see if I can recall anything besides nursery rhymes.'
--~~*~~--
As Anar took the sky again, replacing Isil, the riders mounted once more.
The flames of the campfire had long burned up after they had no longer been tended to, only grey ashes and black scorched wood left.
Ereinion had first suspected the journey had been towards Aulë's halls, but when they had gone south this morning, he had begun to doubt it.
Watching the trees around him change shape, from sturdy ancient oaks to the finer pine trees, only to observe the pines change to deciduous trees again, Ereinion suddenly realised it.
He grinned and looked at Glorfindel.
'If we pick up our pace, we can just about arrive at Oromë's Halls in time for dinner.'
Spurring his horse, he was off the next moment, Glorfindel close on his heels.
Amusedly Finrod looked at Elrond, with whom he had been quietly speaking.
'He does not lack the earnest application necessary to make a success of a political career in Tirion. Rather the opposite. But he forgets to live, I fear.
'It was not so in Middle-earth,' Elrond said, thoughtfully. 'there he rather taught me to live.'
'He will find his purpose,' the Elf-lord smiled, though not with all conviction he was prone to. 'Fingon took many years to be able to deal with the after-effects of Mandos' Halls. And he had a wife beside him.'
'How much are you whom you were then?' Elrond asked, somehow more comfortable asking Finrod than anyone else.
'Close to the same. But my time in waiting was short,' he replied, eyes fixed somewhere in front of him, his golden hair shining in the glimpses of light falling through the roof of leaves above.
'The longer the time spent in waiting, the more changes in...?'
Finrod raised a cautionary hand.
'Rule of thumb, Elrond. Those who have returned do not tend to follow rules. And Ereinion always had a way of not following any rules at all.' He laughed. 'Now, let us follow, or they shall leave us no dinner.'
'Agreed,' Elrond grinned, and they followed the two Elf-lords further into the woods, where all of them were already welcomed, even if they did not directly notice.
--~~*~~--
Ereinion was definitely radiant as he dismounted and accepted the cup of wine offered to him by an attendant. Face flushed with excitement it took him some effort to keep his breath at a steady pace. After returning the cup, he turned to his horse and tenderly stroked the animal just above the eyes. Then, with a thankful nod, he allowed it to be led away.
'You liked it then?' Elrond asked. They had soon caught up with both Ereinion and Glorfindel, and most of the journey had consisted of telling stories and racing from one grove to the next. Things Ereinion had enjoyed when still at Imloth. Things he had enjoyed when still in Middle-earth.
'I did indeed,' the High Prince answered, smiling broadly. 'And I was in much need of it, I believe.'
'You were,' Elrond nodded. 'But come inside now, we are the guests of the Lord Oromë tonight, and I have no doubt our host awaits us.'
It was indeed the deep, well-known voice that welcomed them upon entering.
'So he that is called Ereinion, High Prince of the city of Tirion, has finally returned to my Halls?'
Amusedly the High Prince bowed his head.
'Indeed, my Lord Oromë.'
The Vala, seemingly quite comfortable in his physical form, approached the new arrivals. His face shone, his eyes glimmered, and his raiment was a mixture of dark green and brown, much like the forests they had ridden through not long ago.
'Be you welcome, and Finrod, Elrond and Glorfindel as well,' he smiled, causing yet another light to brighten in his features. 'Do take nourishment and sit you down, for it is not often we are honoured with the presence of such high lords.'
The four of them chuckled, well aware the last part was untrue. Important visitors seemed plentiful in the Halls of Oromë.
It was much later in the evening that Ereinion, with great stealth, managed to escape the watchful eye of his three companions, who were much enjoying themselves in the meantime; songs and tales again abundantly present this evening.
As he walked the forest, which was lit not only by the glow of stars reaching through some of the leafage above, but also by small flickering lanterns hanging from lonely branches, he observed many creatures that used the night as their playground.
The abundance of life surprised him as much as it had the very first time errantry brought him here, but, he thought, as he had realised then, Oromë was not called a tamer of beasts lightly.
With a smile he watched small living things leave their burrows, most likely to find food for their offspring.
It had been a good idea of them to bring him here.
Then again, between the three of them, Finrod, Elrond and Glorfindel, there were few things that could not turn out right.
Besides animals, the woods were not devoid of Elves either, and he could distinguish groups making their way parallel to the path he followed between the trees, not intruding on his solitude, perhaps as long as he did not seek company.
'Where have the days gone when we were kings and lords? Is it merely because there is no evil to fight that we have all lost some purpose?' he sighed aloud to himself.
'Is that how you feel?'
He turned in surprise, to find a familiar face. He mustered a smile.
'Perhaps it is.'
'Do we not seek new purposes, all throughout our lives?'
'I had a purpose, even if perhaps it was only a simple one. I was content at Imloth.' He sighed. 'I was, you know. I cannot explain it.'
'I know you were. You were long before I was.'
Ereinion shook his head, though not in decline.
'We are strange cases, you and I. How easy things would be if we had been born here, had lived here, without the marring that hides within us.'
Elrond tightened his lips. However much he did not wish to admit it, the marring was in Celebriníel too, he knew. It would be in her children, and in their children. The marring would be something that would always stay, even if it hid deep. But it would be less obvious than in Middle-earth. At least he hoped it would be...
'Even if not that noticeable, the marring is in every one of the Elder, whether born here or in Middle-earth.'
Staring into the distance, the High Prince shook his head.
'They have not seen the look on someone's eyes when death... Have not smelled the sickening stench of rotting flesh. Some of the marring of Arda they may have in them indeed, but not like that... not like that...'
Both silent, they listened to voices raised in song.
'Was I ever a politician?' Ereinion asked suddenly. 'I mean Gil-galad... I...' he shook his head and groaned. 'I should really stop differentiating.' Especially since I do not seem to do so in my mind any longer.
Shaking his head, not able to withhold a grin, Elrond looked at him.
'Not in the sense of a council member here. Your style of politics in Middle-earth was certainly admirable. Even after spending an Age beside you, looking over your shoulder, in a way, I was never able to quite match it.'
'You had, you have, wisdom.'
'I had a good teacher. I have always had good teachers. For knowledge, good judgement, for being a father, for politics, for battle. And when you were no longer there to teach me, I found another. Who taught me love, to be a husband, who gave me the chance to be a father.'
Turning, Ereinion shook his head.
'What wisdom was it, that made me be out there, then? It seems no wisdom to me.'
'Speak of it then.'
'I do not wish to.'
'Oh but you do.' Elrond replied. 'Inevitably every conversation we have had since I arrived on Aman has ended up here, at this point. Only because I did not persist, thinking this was something you did not wish to repeat over and over, I did not ask further. I do now. I insist. Tell me.'
'Speak of what?' Ereinion replied, almost spitting out the words. 'Speak of how I try to understand? I do not. Speak of how I feel? Most of the time your guess is a good as mine. Speak of what I felt, when I stood there, and saw him approaching? I can merely say that day was the last that I truly comprehended who I was, what I was meant to do.'
Elrond looked at him. How very clearly did he remember the shadow walking purposely, making its way through the clash taking place on the plains of Mordor.
There had been no hesitation. If it had been so, he was not now able to recall it. He had grasped at once what the Dark Lord searched for.
Elven rings... Revenge... Gil-galad...
Then he remembered that other time, when he had felt the same, when he had known, had seen, but was not able to act. After Eregion's fall, when Imladris was only a simple encampment, not meant to become what it would later on.
He recalled looking at the messenger, the sting of tears in his eyes, so much anger, so much hate, all focused on one person.
One being.
He had clasped his sword in his hand, the sword bestowed upon him by Gil-galad, before he rode out. His other hand, balled into a fist, hung inanimately alongside his body.
The messenger had seemed afraid of him, of the usually so peaceful Elf-lord.
For the first time in his life, at least his adult life, he had not cared. There had been nothing he could do, and it had made something deep within him shatter. Without any pretence of wanting to tame the anger within, he had flung the sword away, hearing it hit something, most likely stone, the metal cling ringing harshly in the silence. After that, he had disappeared into the direction of the settlement.
Gorthaur's forces moving towards Lindon... Supposedly after something that could be found there.
'Sauron sought you out,' he commented blankly, back in the present.
Ereinion shook his head, eyes closed.
'I do not remember,' he said softly.
Moving closer, looking at his friend intently, Elrond refused to let it pass so easily. Was this not why they had come here?
'You remember. You tried to shake me off. Very successfully. But I saw, as you saw. He sought you. Perhaps even the both of us.'
'Can you imagine the anger he must have felt towards both you and me? How easily he could have destroyed us both, had we been side by side...'
For a moment, Elrond could do nothing but hesitate, uncertain if he was meant to answer. Then Ereinion continued, eyes still closed.
'One of the things that is asked of one of the Firstborn in Mandos, is to forgive. Not to harbour anything against the one that forced you to separate from your body. To realise such things lie in the past, and that nothing in Arda can or could prevent it, turn back time...' He paused for a moment before resuming.
'I think I have. I know I have, or I would not be here. But it is hard, Elrond. That road is hard. I do not condone anything he did, but I do see his point, somehow.'
'If I could have, I would have taken your place. Made the ultimate sacrifice for my King,' Elrond whispered, once more quite vividly confronted with past events. Suddenly it was as if they had only left Middle-earth yesterday. As if it was only days earlier that they had been on the battle plain...
'These things are what make us who we are,' Ereinion said softly, almost as if he had not heard. 'What happened had to happen as it did then, that much I know. What I do not know is why I am here. I doubt Ilúvatar meant for me to return so I could witness petty bickering in the High Council.' He sighed. 'If you had died in my stead, would I have fostered Isildur's heirs? Would all have gone as it has? Without your sons, your daughter, would we find ourselves where we are, now?' He finally looked at Elrond, the smile on his lips a wry one. 'I did not spent nearly an age in Mandos playing cards, my friend. And however much I try to deny myself, and however much you pretend you are not one of the Elves we owe most to in our history, neither of us will be able to escape destiny in the end.'
'I thought I was... I wanted to die that day.'
Ereinion looked at Elrond, very much aware these were matters that still lived vividly within the both of them.
'Did we not see it coming?'
Silently, Elrond returned his look.
'We did. I could not, or did not wish to, recognise it. But we should have known, should have recognised. There were the signs all around us. And I should have ordered you to stay in your tent that day. And tied you to a chair if you had not abided by it.'
They both chuckled weakly, though not of true amusement.
'What happened? After...?' Ereinion asked cautiously.
Needing a moment to collect his thoughts Elrond finally shook his head.
'I was very distraught. I carried you back, at least for a way. Then they came to collect me. Glorfindel, Erestor and Círdan. Isildur, the Ring. If I... I wonder if I could have persuaded him if my mind had been where it was supposed to be.'
He felt Ereinion place a comforting hand on his shoulder.
'Perhaps it was not yet time. Perchance the Ring was not supposed to be destroyed then.' The High Prince smiled almost indistinctly. 'What then? What of you?'
Clearing his throat Elrond let out a sigh.
'After Isildur refused?'
'Yes.'
'I ran back, from the mountain, back to the encampment. I stayed in your tent for a while. Isildur came, I tried... I did not even try.'
'And you left?'
Elrond nodded slowly.
'I left almost at once, after the Barad-dûr had been demolished.'
'Lindon?'
'Lindon. I refused to stay in that dark place. I refused to leave your remains there. And I felt I could not yet return to Imladris.'
Slowly nodding, Ereinion sat down on a fallen tree that lay sprawled across the forest floor. He looked up at Elrond.
'Where did you take them?'
'Forlindon,' the other whispered. 'If one walks straight from the Sea-garden to the sea, it lies close to the path.'
'What does it look like?'
'It stands deeply anchored into the sand, at the highest point we could find, so that the dunes would not bury it as the years passed. It is dark marble, with your device alone carved into it, coloured in silver.'
'What of Aeglos?'
'I did not know what became of it, of Aeglos. Only when I asked about it much later, I think after Elladan and Elrohir were born even, I found Erestor had seen to most of your possessions, sending them to Imladris. And there it lies still.'
'I gather it is lost, then. For none are able to bring it to Aman now.'
Remorseful, Elrond shook his head.
'If I had known I would meet you again, I would have brought it.'
'It does not matter, I simply wondered,' Ereinion replied with a shake of the head.
Sitting down besides the High Prince, Elrond sat forward and folded his hands, as if the position was more comfortable for him, somehow creating a barrier for his next query.
'Your father tells me you never speak of it.'
'I have spoken of my time in the Halls, with my grandfather. But that was long ago, when I still did not remember everything. I had never asked about... the grave, and Aeglos. It is information that was never written down, I think, and I did not wish to ask those who might have known, truthfully.'
'It was information that was kept private,' Elrond replied. 'Especially when the days came that we feared they would find the burial place and exercise their wrath upon it. Defile it.'
'Of course.'
'You never asked anyone? Celebrían could have told you.'
'I never did. I should have, perhaps.'
Strangely amused, a slight incomprehension on his face, Elrond stared at Ereinion.
'Sometimes, somehow, you truly try to distinguish yourself too vigorously from who you were then.'
'You are right. I shall stop it.'
'Only stop it if you feel you wish to.'
Ereinion smiled.
'Would I stop merely to please you?'
A surprised chuckle escaped Elrond's lips.
'Never.'
'There you go.'
'Do you want to speak of Mandos?'
Blankly staring at his feet, Ereinion seemed undecided. And yet it was not long before he spoke.
'What surprised me most is how one affair can be treated from several points of view. I know I was both rewarded for not destroying the three Rings, as well as held responsible for the consequences of their sustained existence.'
'I was questioned on it as well, when arriving.'
'I suspect Galadriel was questioned more thoroughly on it than you were.' Ereinion pondered.
'Hmm, yes. The Valar have a way of seeing exactly what preoccupies you.'
'That they do.' Ereinion looked sideways. 'They questioned you about Eregion, no doubt?'
'Eregion, Mordor, the Rings and you, mostly. And Elladan and Elrohir.' Elrond responded.
The High Prince smiled.
'You felt guilty about Eregion. You always will, I suspect. Similarly I will always feel guilty about coming too late at Sirion. Those are the things that shape us, perhaps.'
'You sound like him now. Very much so.' Elrond commented.
Ereinion chuckled and folded his hands, sitting forward too.
'I wonder if I would be happier if I just admitted how much of Gil-galad is in me.'
'How happy will you be if you maintain denying the truth?'
'Not very, you make a valid point.'
'So what will you do?'
Stretching his legs, Ereinion looked thoughtful.
'I shall go to Tirion and be whoever it is I am.'
'Good,' Elrond agreed. Then he watched the habitual glimmer sneaking into his friend's eyes.
'I suspect it involves me speaking up in the Council. It might not be a bad idea to make some of those lords agree for a change.'
'You could make them concur, I think,' Elrond grinned. 'Gil-galad most likely could have.'
Tongue in cheek, Ereinion nodded.
'So I am told.'
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Túna: the hill on which Tirion was built
Aulë: the Smith, Vala concerned mostly with the substance of Arda, metal and rock (also creator of the dwarves)
Oromë: also a Vala, Huntsman of the Valar, Lord of the Forests
Anar: sun
Isil: moon
Gorthaur: "terrible dread" a Sindarin name (mostly First Age) for Sauron
Barad-dûr: "Dark Tower", Sauron's stronghold in Mordor
Forlindon: Lindon is generally assumed to exist out of two parts: Forlindon and Harlindon. I assume Gil-galad's palace was in Forlindon.
Nemis's thing about Gil-galad's death: The
Silmarillion explicitly states:
But at the last the siege was so strait that Sauron himself came forth; and
he wrestled with Gil-galad and Elendil, and they both were slain, and the sword
of Elendil broke under him as he fell.
So basically, I think there was definitely a body for Elrond to bring to Lindon
(since it was only Fëanor's spirit that
was "so fiery" "that as it sped his body fell to ash".
And I go for burial too, since most Elvish casualties are buried, so it seems.
Sirion: Gil-galad and Círdan came too late to prevent the Third Kinslaying, when the remaining sons of Fëanor attacked the Mouths of Sirion to claim the Silmaril Elwing had in her possession.
I bow to the Encyclopedia of Arda: http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/
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