Author's Notes:
Here is another chapter! Quicker than the usual? Well, I did try not to put you into too much torment… and the reviews help immensely in the motivation department, to be honest. Not a few of them highlighted what people like (and sometimes dislike) from this story, and it helps me very, very much in defining the plot and words both in my head and on MS Word. Thank you so for all the encouragement and critiques!
And this time, I hope I have answered all your reviews. For hopefully this time only, the list of reviewers will be complied from several chapters worth of reviews. (I did say I'd reply to all, right? I just didn't know when… :self-amused:)
And they are: , ice Vixen X, Toki Mirage, TutelaTwin, koryssa-kory, White Alchemist Taya, Alianna15, Raven Marcus, Hemotem, IchigoRenji, Reallybored2, Will Baggins, InxDarknessxox, RevieWriter, Goldenfightergirl, lilyoftheval5, kyzhart, animexoverluver123, cheekysorcerer, HarrisonxPotterxox, Larner, A Midsummer Night's Dreams, Sparks, RogueNya, frizzie123, CatWriter, Fk306 animelover, AnimeIceFox, Arturus, no one importand, Bobboky, aikenichi11, Gladoo89, Beloved Daughter, Katla, Tara La'Quinn, smitty1110, kacoo, enchanted nightingale, Kamai6, Jenna Linda, jgood27, Draeconin, FireFox Vixen, Ideal Mind, Rylia, Anon42, Make war not love. war is fun, Mellombror, Sarah, AlaudeSketchbook, myriad-souls, NEVERMORE DARKNESS, Aytheria, LadyOblivious, Rae, Booker10, grey-shadow-horse, autumnannette19, quaff, Fluffy-luvr, Kyjori, Jostanos, mmichelle97219, Lousy Poet Automaton, Funkichooki, Hanzo of the Salamander, Kanberry, Mabidiso, kk bk, GreenRider-Inheritance-fanatic, Syret, Auriga Black, Lordamnesia, Celestialuna, Aiso-san, -w- easy enough, Elf Knight, Yana5, harrylover101, The Heroine With 1000 Faces, cocoa85715, Glodfindel, Filteredlight, Bratling, and Hoppy159. I replied to most of you, but sadly I had to skip several names or the update would not be launched any time this week. Profuse apologies…
About this chapter: Much angst all around. Beware. (And for those of you who want your questions to be answered, please log in, not leaving just an anonymus review.) Otherwise, enjoy the ride!
Rey
Chapter 13
Harry had never thought about how swift Elven pace could be. Gandalf's memories had never provided him anything concrete about it, and Harry himself had never gained any first-hand evidence about the matter. The grown-up Elves he had travelled with seemed to swing only between two modes: idle walk and forced run. But now Gildor, one of the said grown-ups, broke that pattern. Night was yet on the way when the strong smell that Harry vaguely recognised as sea hit his nose.
Or perhaps, the Grey Havens actually lay close to the Shire, closer than he had ever thought or imagined?
But Harry did not want to think about the Shire right now. It only made him madder to Gildor and Gandalf, and he was currently too emotionally tired without that unnecessary addition. (Well, all the secrecy sorely tempted him to investigate too, and he knew he could not do that under the tight supervision of those annoying adults.) Besides, someone was now approaching them from the opposite direction, and Gildor at last began to relax. What would happen? Was he about to be passed on to the new person? But – but…
The centries had reported that an Elf was speeding towards the Havens as if chased by hell-hounds. Gildor had arrived then, Erestor thought resignedly. Everything was in motion. But he wished he had no part in this. He was sick of participating in intrigues and wars; and most of all, he was sick of losing loved ones and reliving the reminder in any way. He had lived for around forty *(1)long-years in moderate peaceful oblivion, and he did not want to forsake it.
People had looked oddly – some pityingly – at him whenever he said that, in the weeks after the decision had been made and the plan had been set. He had received a great honour, they said. After all, he would live in one of the safest havens east of the Great Sea and take care of a child of their kind – an infant more than fifteen long-years in waiting. Not even Glorfindel the famous Balrog-slayer got that privilege.
But personally, Erestor preferred his small, perfect quarters in Imladris. He was used to being called an oddball anyway. Being burdened by this assignment did not make people any friendlier to him too.
They just did not understand – never would, perhaps. Nobody knew that his spirit shook and recoiled whenever he remembered what he soon had to do. They would just think him a coward if they knew, like they always did. He could imagine what they would whisper at each other when they thought he could not hear: "He is a whimp, refusing to take up weapon after the Last Alliance like that; and now he is scared of raising a baby?" Never mind that he had helplessly seen his cousin-come-brother die an arm's away in the spectacular failure of that alliance's final battle; someone dearer than his life that he had been raising from early childhood through thick and thin, only to be burnt like a worthless piece of firewood by Gorthaur before his eyes.
Currently, not even Círdan was sympathetic to his plight, despite knowing and feeling – to a point – all that he had experienced. (The duo had sought sanctuary with him many times in the past, and they had grown close as a result.) The ancient ellon had even gone as far as saying that this assignment would help him mend himself. As if he was broken! He was not—
Was he?
The reported Elf came into view in a blur, then slowed down a few paces away. Gildor's eyes peered at him from under the deep hood the other ellon wore. Erestor stared back flatly. So this was who Mithrandir sent? Since when had Gildor become friendly to a Maia, especially a disguised one like that Ithron? But no matter…
Something moved within Gildor's cloak. Erestor extended his hands. Let the torture begin. He would set it in his own pace, though.
Judging from Gildor's reproving gaze, the other ellon knew perfectly well what he meant. But still, he handed the restless bundle to Erestor without any more words, dropped the sachel seemingly containing the child's belongings on Erestor's feet, then turned around stiffly back to the way he had come.
If Gildor was perfectly willing to care for Laegnor, why did Mithrandir not choose him over the reluctant, grouchy, bitter Erestor? What did the Ithron have under his grubby sleeve for the three of them?
He watched Gildor running back into the night, away from Elven society. But the ellon's gait was somehow dogged now, and Erestor would swear that he looked over his shoulder every so often. Had he moved past the gruesome, ignoble death of his adoptive father, then? Had he moved past *(2)his hatred of Celegorm and Curufin and Túrin the Secondborn?
If so, why could Erestor himself not?
Skirting that damning question, he similarly turned his back on the path leading out of Mithlond and jogged lightly towards Círdan's abode. The assignment had begun. He would do his duties, but Mordor would be friendly before he would open himself to this latest charge of his. He would not let this child shatter the remmnants of his heart.
Harry peered uncertainly over the blankets at the blank-faced Erestor, baffled at his latest guardian's different attitude towards him. Erestor had always been silent and rather aloof, but he had never been this cold and distant. The chilling treatment jarred the man-child, reminding him quite unpleasantly of a number of people in the life he had been taken from. He did not know should he despise this new Erestor or try to understand what had come upon him. The former was quite tempting, however insistently his mind told him that "right" did not always mean "easy."
The Sun was greeting this part of the world with bright hues, but the both of them were stuck in here, in the place their bearded host had assigned for them. Or rather, Erestor had stuck the both of them here after Harry's brief introduction to Círdan. The weird Elf-man had speedily changed his clothes into a light shift and tucked him into the bed, all brusquely and distantly. And now here they were, Harry peeping up at Erestor and ducking into the blankets when the stare was returned, and Erestor sitting stiffly in the chair beside the bed.
— Peep.
Erestor swiped a hand across his face. And then he looked at Harry.
Duck.
A rustle. Erestor at last got up from the chair, it seemed. It might be safe…
Peep.
The Elf-man was looking out of the window nearby. Harry did not know what view it overlooked. He wished he could—
Duck.
— Awh. Nearly caught. Erestor had suddenly turned around. Harry bit his index finger agitatedly in lieu of biting his lip. Dared he peep over at the grown-up again?
Erestor decided it for him. Unexpectedly, the sheets were yanked away, and Harry lost his hideout. He squeaked.
"It is not play-time, little one."
`I know,` Harry muttered sulkily to himself, inching away from the on-edge man looming over him.
Erestor raised an eyebrow. "Am I mistaking your gestures as game, then?" he grumbled asserbically.
Oh. Harry had forgotten – again – given his stay with the hobbits. Elves could hear unprotected thoughts as if they were spoken orally. The problem was that he was yet again out of practise of shielding his mind. It never came naturally to him, and every exercise of it reminded him unpleasantly of his horrible Occlumency lesson with Snape. (That man might have done quite much for him, even to death, but the fact remained that he had been quite a git too.)
"S'neip?" Erestor repeated, interested. Harry gave him a grumpy glare and refused to answer in any way. It did not deter him, though. "Who is he?"
Harry jumped out of Erestor's reach, diving under the pillows. The Elf-man muttered a string of words sounding suspiciously like curses, but Harry no longer cared. Why did Gildor sic him on this odd piece of Elven-kind? Why did Gandalf, in the first place? If everything continued like this, he would pull an escape somewhere.
"Well, you are not going to escape from me."
Criky. His Occlumency had not worked – again. Think of nothing, think of nothing…
He peeked out a little from under the mound of pillows, saying as solemnly as he could, "No, I shall not, now."
Erestor's baleful glare sent him hiding again.
Nowë sat comfortably atop one of the thick poles that formed the peer posts, ruminating about recent events. The atmosphere was perfect for just that: the sea was calm, the sky was clear, and the merry bustle of ship-crafters was a warm background noise. His latest guests, an old charge-came-friend and a baby, who were also the subject of his current thoughts, had also been provided lodging and time to take some rest.
It gave him a not-too-pleasant surprise, thus, when he found the grown-up one of his guests striding agitatedly towards him from the direction of his abode. "What is amiss, Erestor?"
The much-younger ellon halted only a foot from him, as if taking comfort from the closeness to his pseudo-guardian. His raking his unbound hair jerkily, almost yanking at it, was another sure sign to Nowë that something quite wrong was happening. "What has happened, child?" he asked more forcefully. They could not waste time.
"I am not a child any longer," came the dratted response; but, to Nowë's alarm, it was just a half-hearted retort. Something was definitely wrong with Erestor.
"What has happened?" he repeated, rising up from his perch and gripping Erestor's shoulder firmly. "We cannot waste time, if it is of dire importance."
The last phrase seemed to strike home, for Erestor shuddered and drew a ragged breath, refusing to meet Nowë's sharp gaze. When Nowë shook his shoulder slightly, trying to elicit a verbal response from him, he at last mumbled, "The child ran away. I did not find him abed when *(3)I came out of my dreams. He was not in the house or its surroundings also. Nobody has seen him leave…" The words trailed off into another shudder and a choked breath.
Nowë let out a growl of curses. Apparently having never heard him do so, Erestor's head snapped up and those blue-grey orbs, clouded with fear and self-hatred, goggled at him dazedly. It went unnoticed by the ancient shipwright, as he roughly grasped Erestor's arm and dragged the said ellon impatiently after him. Where was the baby now? Surely he had not gone too far or concealed himself too well? But little things and little children were easily overlooked…
The mentioned house was in disarray when the frazzled pair arrived. It looked like a disturbed beehive, ready to explode at any time soon. Anxious faces mirroring Erestor's and Nowës were everywhere, as Ellyn and ellyth ran to and throw, calling the missing child's name.
Nowë shook his head. That would not do. Sighing deeply, he bellowed over the racket, "SEARCH PARTIES!" Having to compete with the roaring of the sea in daily basis availed him now, as every Elf hearing the command instantly froze in their places. Now that he was regaining leadership of his people, though, he must conceal any weakness and panic he felt on the current problem. Letting out another sigh (and meanwhile trying to ignore Erestor's fidgeting), he spoke in a lower and calmer tone, "Comb this place, three ellyth and Ellyn each group. I shall comb the river's mouth and the tide-pools with Erestor." An elleth farther into the house shrieked on the word "tide-pools," and Nowë himself felt his heart constrict on the idea of the baby being lost in the maze of waterlocked rock formations. `Oh Ossë! Save him when the tide comes!`
But, whether circumstances – or the Belain – were not being kind to any of them, Laegnor was not found until dusk approached.
Footnotes:
*(1) 144 Sun-years (our own years, which consists of 365 days). Since yén and yéni are Quenya words, I can't slip it into Erestor's point of view.
*(2) Celegorm and Curifin, sons of Fëanor, dethroned Finrod in a (thankfully) bloodless civilian coup. Seeing that Finrod and his tiny contingent were then entrapped in their former stronghold and eaten alive by werewolves, Gildor would have strong hatred towards those two conniving monsters. Túrin, although coming at first to Nargothrond later (when it was under the rule of Orodreth, Finrod's brother) perhaps without thoughts of dethronement, nevertheless took it by general vote at last, leading it to its doom. – There are some drawbacks to Elven perfect memory, indeed!
*(3) No, not to sound poetic or something; just to indicate that Elves do not fall into sleep like we do. – Did it work?
Translation: (Sindarin, otherwise indicated)
elleth: female Elf
ellon: male Elf
Ellyn: male Elves
ellyth: female Elves
Ithron: Wizard
Nowë: Eldarin: Círdan's real name, so to say (canon)
Additional Notes:
Apologies for the angsty, cliff-hanger-ish ending. I thought that 4 alternating point of views of angst were quite enough for one chapter. There will not be this much angst in the next chapter, though, and hopefully it'll come out soon enough, depending on my muse and RL schedule.