Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.
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"I just cannot do it, Elrohir."
The Elf looked at her incredulously after he dragged his lips away from her throat, her words finally penetrating through the haze of his desire. The two of them were entwined, naked, in Elrohir's bed, about to bond with one another—and she had just told him to stop.
"Jeren, why?" he asked her, trying not to sound as frustrated and disappointed as he truly was. He'd known when he first met her outside his door this evening that she was nervous, but he had decided it was due to the immense step they were about to take. Who wouldn't be tense? He was too, but in a good way. Now he realized her uneasiness had to do with something else.
Her face was beautiful in the flickering light of the candles he'd lit throughout the room. He'd wanted to see all her reactions this night as they made love for the first time. But as he looked closer—into her eyes—he could see the clouds of concern in them.
"What is it, Jeren?" he asked again.
She rose from the bed, dragging the sheet along with her. She wrapped it around herself, tucking it into her cleavage as she walked away. He could not stand the gulf she was opening between them, so he got up as well and followed her. When he reached her he placed his hands on her bare shoulders, feeling the electricity between them. It felt as if his fingers were melding to her skin, and he would not be able to move his hands if he tried. But as she leaned into him, he felt the bond loosen and his hands came around to clasp in front of her.
"Tell me, Jeren," he said yet again, trying to prompt her into revealing her heart.
"I cannot do this to your father," she said, her voice troubled.
He turned her around to really look at her. "We are not doing anything to him, Jeren."
"We are deceiving him, Elrohir." Her large gray eyes looked up into his, and he could feel her pain as if it were his own. He drew her to his chest, holding her close, but she pulled back to look at him again after only a few seconds.
He could see the pain clearly on her face, but he knew he had to convince her of the importance of keeping their bonding quiet. "Do you believe me when I say this secrecy is necessary?" he asked her then.
She nodded, but said, "Still… it just isn't right. He loves me, Elrohir, and I love him. I've never told him falsely before; I do not want to start now. Not after he has been so good to me for so many years, treating me as his family when he had no real reason to do so. I love him," she repeated. "And besides that, I do not want us to start our lives together with a lie."
"He will stop us, Jeren," he said in warning, allowing some heat to finally enter his voice. It made him angry that his father could have such dominion over his life. "I have told you how he reacted to Arwen and Estel's plans. Do you think he will accept ours any easier?"
"I do think so, Elrohir," she said with conviction. "You have no intention of choosing as Arwen has; once he understands that, he will give us his blessing. I know that he will. He already loves me—he would not deny my happiness when he has nothing to gain."
Elrohir dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked to the curtain that was drawn over the entrance to his veranda. He grabbed the fabric, bunching it up in his fists, looking as if he would fling it open in anger, but Jeren knew he would not. If anyone saw her in here, in her state of undress, the news would more than likely reach the Lord of Imladris' ears. Instead, Elrohir dropped his hands to his sides and approached her again.
When he was finally calmer, without looking at her, he said, "He loves Estel, too, Jeren, and you know the conditions he put forth to him, before he will allow Estel to bond with my sister." He looked at her then and watched as her shoulders sagged, but he went on, "You do not know my father as I do. That reassurance you seek to give him will not be enough. It seems he needs some sort of a pledge. A promise I am not ready to give him." He stopped for a moment, but then said in a quieter voice, "Perhaps it is childish of me to want control over my own life, Jeren, but that is what this boils down to. I could pledge to him that I will always remain Elfkind, but I see no reason to do that, other than to make him feel better. This is my life—not his. I feel it is childish of him to demand such of me."
"If just keeping it from him is the answer, then why didn't Aragorn and Arwen defy him, as you want the two of us to do?"
"Estel is such an honorable man, I think it never occurred to him."
"But I should embrace this deception regardless; is that what you mean?"
Elrohir sighed with defeat when Jeren turned away from him again. He knew her moods—nothing he said was going to change her mind. He wanted to rage at her, beat this truth he was trying to impart to her into her head. But he could not. He loved her too much. She was only following her heart, which was telling her to do the honorable thing, not go behind backs, just so that she could have her way. He tried to do the same in his own life, but in this instance it just wasn't realistic.
He walked back to her, his footsteps leaden, and took her into his arms again. "All right, Jeren," he said, his tone resigned. "We will speak to him before we take this final step." Jeren thought he was finished, but he went on, "Promise me you will not let him change your mind. Please? Can you promise me this?" When she did not answer at first, he said, "Do not be surprised when he does not react in the joyous way you expect."
"He will, Elrohir," Jeren said, the light coming back into her eyes. "I know he will. You will see. And then we will bond and it will be beautiful. I can hardly wait. Let's go tell him now, all right?"
Elrohir pulled her into his arms again, unwilling to let her see the foreboding that had to be written all over his face. And he'd heard clearly, though she'd not said a word, that she had not given him her promise. She had avoided that altogether.
As he got dressed, he glanced at the woman he loved. She looked so happy right now. Why could he not shake the feeling it would be long before he saw her look thusly again?
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"You are going to do what?" Elrond asked, his brows raised.
"We are going to bond, Father," Elrohir repeated. "We wanted to tell you of our plans and ask your blessing on our union."
Elrond looked at his son in stony silence for at least a full minute, and then he turned his back on them both, making his way to the table on which was always kept a decanter of wine as well as one of Miruvor. The older Elf filled his glass with the latter.
He took a large swallow of the drink, and then looked at Elrohir again. He was not pleased.
Jeren could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him this angry in all the ten years she had known him. "Tell him the rest, Elrohir," she prompted. She feared her urging would do no good, not after what Elrohir had told her before they'd even left his room—that he did not see the need to reassure his father in this way. She had already decided that she would tell his father what he wanted to know if Elrohir did not do so himself.
As Jeren had predicted, Elrohir stood there staring at his father without another word.
So Jeren stepped between the two Elves, hoping to break some of the tension between them. "Elrohir does not ever intend to choose other than being Elfkind, Lord Elrond. You have nothing to worry about in this regard." She smiled at him, trying to show how much she loved him; how much he meant to her.
The look he gave her made her want to cringe and find a place to hide. It wasn't an expression of hate or loathing, but it was not one of love, either.
"Nothing to worry about?" he asked her, his tone austere. "You are not this ignorant, Jeren. I resent you acting as if you truly believe what you are saying."
She knit her brow, at once confused and astounded by his last remark. "What do you mean, my lord?" she asked him, fear turning her blood almost as cold as the Elf lord's words. She never thought to fear Lord Elrond, but she had never had his formidable anger turned toward her before. And it truly wasn't fear she was feeling, in the strict sense of the word, but fear that he was turning from her; that she would lose his love. That was what was making her blood run cold.
"There are so many reasons—reasons which I have explained to you over time—why a marriage between our two races is doomed. Not only do the ones who are wed suffer, but their families do as well. Do you not remember? Should I delineate them for you again?"
Jeren knew exactly what he was talking about. Through the years she had known him, especially when she thought herself in love with Elladan, she had often talked about Elven marriage with Lord Elrond. On occasion she would bring up—in an innocent way so as not to arouse his suspicion, she hoped—the question of whether Humans and Elves could marry one another. He'd told her all the terrible things that could go wrong—the aging of the Human, the fading of the Elf when his Human spouse went beyond the veil of this world—everything. If there was anything she was well-versed on, it was the perils and tragedy that befell a married couple of mixed race, as Lord Elrond saw it. She did not want to hear it again. It was on her mind much as it is.
"No, my lord," she answered. "That will not be necessary."
"As for my blessing, I do not give it."
Elrohir did not have to look at Jeren to know that this last remark must have cut her to the bone.
"Father," Elrohir said, "I have thought this through; I am sure it is what I want to do. Cannot you find it in your heart to give even an inch? Meet us halfway? I am your son. You love Jeren as well." When it was obvious that Elrond was not easing his stance in the least, Elrohir changed his tone. "Are you going to make this a contest of wills between us? Because if you are, then you will lose."
As if he'd not heard Elrohir's comment, even as inflaming as it had been, Elrond said, "When do you propose to do this?"
"Tonight," Elrohir answered. "As soon as we leave you."
Elrond looked down at his glass in despair, as if wondering why the drink was not working—lifting his spirit even the slightest bit. The announcement from these children was much too overwhelming…
"Your haste reeks of your brother's influence," Elrond said, clearly annoyed at Elrohir's choice to waive the usual betrothal time.
"This has little to do with Elladan's effect on my life and more to do with the fact that Jeren is Human, and we do not have even a moment to spare of our life together."
"Which is what I am trying to get you to see, son!" Elrond said, his voice pleading. "You do not know how devastating it will be, when you lose her."
"How devastating will it be to you, Father?" Elrohir asked in return. "You love her too."
Elrond's expression turned inward then, as if he knew he had lost this argument. But instead of giving in, he said, "It is not the same kind of love, Elrohir. Of course I love her. I have since almost the moment I saw her. But when you bond with someone…" Elrond stopped and shook his head sadly, "Your loss will manifest in incompleteness. You will feel as if your heart has been torn asunder, and part of it taken from you. I do not know if anyone or anything will save you from the ruin in which it will leave you."
Jeren felt as if she were a spectator in this argument between this father and his son. That they were Elves merely added to the unreal quality of it all. Lord Elrond's face was drawn with sorrow as he described these tragic consequences, as if he were seeing them before his mind's eye. At first Elrohir was touched by that sorrow, but as Jeren watched, his face relaxed, as if he had indeed thought this through and was ready to accept whatever may be.
"This, too, is my choice, Father," Elrohir said at last, when he could see that Elrond's anger had turned into something more bleak. "You forget that I have a twin. The bond that Elladan and I share will see me through this."
"And how do you know that, Elrohir?" he asked him. "I, too, had a twin brother, lest you forget. And while we were both Elfkind, our bond was unbreakable. It was not so after Elros made his choice. How do you know what Elladan's choice of race will ultimately be? If it is also the path that Arwen is taking, then, with you making this—mistake—should you fade with Jeren's passing, the whole lot of you will be lost to your mother and me."
Elrohir approached his father then, hoping to connect their closeness again; the contentment that Elven parents feel with their children when all is well. "You are fretting where there is no worry, Father. Unless you know something that I do not. Has Elladan already told you of his choice, but he is keeping it from me?"
Jeren wanted to weep at the anguish she saw on Elrond's face. "It is by his deeds that I judge his bent toward Humanity. He has not told me directly in words, but…"
"But you fear it is true?" his son finished for him. Elrond nodded but did not say anything more. Elrohir glanced at Jeren, and her face was ashen with unshed tears. He wanted to take her into his arms and reassure her, make her see that while the Elf lord was hurt, he was not broken, but he had to finish this with his father first.
"You have no notion how much I've wished there had never been any choice, Father, for any of us. I've wished it from the time I was old enough to understand the ramifications of it. But knowing the havoc it can wreak does not erase what Elros' choice gave to us—the Númenóreans, and ultimately, the Dúnedain. There would be no Arathorn, no Gilraen, no Estel, no Anardil, Jennah, no Jeren—or any of those who have gone before them. We have known and nurtured a great many of them. So I cannot wish this choice had never been given, or I would have missed knowing people who I have loved over the vast reaches of my lifetime. I would miss the very one I was meant to love and be with. Can you not see that, Father?"
"Seeing it and agreeing with what you propose are two very different things, son," Elrond said, his tone not quite so defeated any more, but more resentful.
"Lord Elrond—" Jeren started, but the Elf lord's upraised hand put a halt to her approach to him. "Please? May I speak?"
"No more," he said directly to Jeren. "I have heard quite enough. I neither approve nor bless your union." He looked at Elrohir again. "As your father I am asking for more time, before you do this."
"How much time, Father?" Elrohir asked. He looked to Jeren, as if asking her agreement. "A few days, perhaps?"
"If that is all you can grant me, I suppose it will have to do," Elrond said. "But for now, if you do not mind, please, just leave me."
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"So now do you see why I did not want to tell my father before we bonded, Jeren?"
The look the woman gave him would have killed, had her eyes been armed with other than a venomous gaze. She'd heard Elrohir's frustration. He was blaming her for his father's upset. And she could not abide that.
"So mayhap you should have kept your lips to yourself, those weeks ago when you first kissed me, Elrohir!"
He had the grace to look contrite. "I am sorry, Jeren, but had we not involved him, we would now be basking in our marriage bed, instead of exchanging harsh words with one another."
"—And just saving the harsh words for another time, Elrohir." She walked toward the stairs.
"Where are you going, Jeren?"
"I'm going to bed. I'm about to fall on my face from fatigue, and I have training early and late with Glorfindel on the morrow."
By now he'd caught up with her, and had taken one of her arms into his hand, effectively keeping her from making the first step onto the stairs. "Will you sleep, or will you merely keep going over this disaster in your mind all night?"
"Probably the latter," she admitted, "but at least I will be lying down. I am tired beyond reason. It is all I can do to keep placing one foot in front of the other."
"Could I come with you?" he asked, the hope in his expression unmistakable.
"If you like," she replied, "but I can promise you that there will be no bonding tonight."
"I don't care about that for the moment," he said. "I only want to hold you as you fall asleep. I feel responsible for this. I suppose that's why I was trying to turn the blame around and back onto you. But you did not deserve that from me. I am sorry, Jeren."
"Must someone be to blame?" she asked him. When he didn't answer she said, "You have nothing to feel guilty about Elrohir."
"I should have made you see what would happen," he said. "I knew this is how he would react, but I wasn't persuasive enough in convincing you that we should not do it."
She just looked at him sadly and said, "You may come with me if you like, Elrohir. If I can sleep, I will. If not, I will welcome the company."
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Jeren wondered if this is what being married felt like. She was getting ready for bed in her bathing room, and she knew that Elrohir was in the bedchamber, turning down her bed. She was sharing her room with Elrohir tonight, as if he belonged here all the time. It was nice, in a way—she was sad and needed his consolation. She knew it would go no farther than that tonight, because she truly had no heart for consummating a marriage, a marriage that Lord Elrond in no way sanctioned. And besides that, Elrohir had promised the Elf lord they would wait a few days.
She emerged from the bathing room in her nightdress to find Elrohir sitting on the bed removing his boots. She'd wondered if he'd been completely serious about staying with her tonight, and from the looks of things, he was. She removed the leather thong from the end of her braid and ran her fingers through her hair, loosening it. She looked into the mirror then, to check the bruise on her face, and in so doing, glimpsed Elrohir gazing at her, pure want in his eyes. She smiled to herself. For once the shoe was on the other foot—he was wanting her and she could not be with him—her heart just wasn't in it tonight. Besides that she didn't know if she would be able to bond with him at all; not with Lord Elrond being so very angry with them both, although when they'd left his study, he'd seemed more angry at her than Elrohir.
Elrohir got up from the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, and as he was pulling it down his arms, there came a knock on the door. He froze where he was and Jeren looked at him with question in her eyes. She truly wanted to see no one else tonight. Should she even answer it?
He shrugged as if he'd heard her thoughts, so she went to the door and opened it slowly. It was Lord Elrond and Jeren couldn't have been more surprised, even if she'd found an Orc darkening her doorway.
"May I speak to you?" he asked her. She could not tell his mood, although he still seemed frightfully formal, so without speaking she widened the entrance, allowing him inside.
The Elf lord's face paled when he saw Elrohir there, with his shirt hanging from one arm. He turned back to Jeren, saying, "Alone? Please…"
"You have nothing to say to her than I cannot hear," Elrohir interjected.
"Please," the Elf lord repeated, looking only at Jeren.
Jeren felt torn—she truly did not know what to do, so she said, "It is all right, Elrohir. All will be well."
"Jeren—" he started, but she went to him, and with her hands on his chest, said, "All will be well. You will see."
Reluctantly Elrohir pulled his shirt back over his shoulders. "Are you very sure?" he asked.
"I am," she replied.
Leaving his shirt open, he bent and kissed her lips before he left. She gave him a wan smile and watched as he walked out, his boots in his hand. Elrond closed the door behind his son, and stood there facing it for several seconds. Then he turned and walked toward her.
She still could not tell if he'd had a change of heart, or if he was still as angry as he was before. He'd clasped his hands behind his back as he strode out onto the veranda. She'd not gotten around to pulling the curtain for the night.
"You gave me your word you would wait," he said at first. "Have you no honor?"
When she had first seen Elrond at her door, she had forced her anger aside—her emotion then had been more of grief. But now, after hearing an attack as the very first words from his mouth, her blood ran hot.
"In the first place, my lord," she said directly, "you made the bargain with your son. I made no comment—as was your wish. Now, if you have other than slander on your mind, please continue; otherwise, I would bid you good night."
"My apologies," he said quietly. He looked her in the eyes so unswervingly for a few moments that she wanted to squirm and look away. But she did neither. Finally, he broke the contact and said, "Jeren, I have a few questions to ask you."
She'd noticed right away that he'd used her given name. No 'Dear One' or 'Young One' tonight! That alone told her more than she wanted to know. She gave him a nod so that he would continue.
"Are you truly ready to bond with Elrohir? As you may or may not know, there is usually a year's time between the promising and the bonding. There are many things you do not know about one another…"
"I know that I love him, Lord Elrond. And I've practically lived with him for ten years. I am sure there are things about him unknown to me, but I already know the important things. He is loyal, honorable, hard-working, hard-headed, sarcastic, loving. In fact, I may know more about him than you do, though you do have the advantage of millennia that I do not."
"He was his mother's favorite, although she would never tell him or any of our children that. They had a special bond, one I would not see broken for any reason."
"There is no reason for it to be broken, my lord," Jeren said. "Elrohir has not told you this, because he believes himself to be old enough to make his own decisions—with or without your express approval, if need be—but unless Elladan were to choose Humanity, you have nothing to fear as far as Elrohir's choice is concerned. He will remain Elfkind. So Lady Celebrian will see Elrohir again in her lifetime, if you but quit pressuring him now."
"It is not I who will hold him to Middle-earth. It is you."
"I will be gone soon enough, in the scheme of things, for it to make no difference."
"And if he fades? What then?"
"I would think that you would first and foremost be glad that he led the life he wanted with the person who made him whole, my lord, rather than to withhold the one that he loves so that his life might be longer, but unfulfilled."
"You speak with a wisdom that belies your age, Jeren, but you still do not understand. It isn't just me that I am pleading for—it is for my wife, Elrohir's mother. She is not here to plead with you herself, so I must do it in her stead."
"You might think you are rending my heart with your pleas, but you are making me angrier by the minute. Your children are grown, Lord Elrond. They can make their own choices. Elrohir has chosen me, and I him. You are just going to have to accept it. I do not want to go against your wishes, but I also cannot go against my own heart. It will grieve me greatly to have to defy you in the end, but if that is what happens, then it will happen."
"It is all very romantic to you, isn't it?" he asked as he turned his back to her, walking a short distance away. But he faced her once again. "A game that you enjoy playing. But then, I suppose, it was so, too, with Elladan and Rhyse, was it not?"
Jeren could not have been more hurt had he physically slapped her. She tried to tell herself that he was using underhanded tactics to get his way, nothing more. But the grain of truth that struck her where she was most vulnerable wouldn't allow her to completely ignore the Elf lord's wounding remark. She could feel her heart harden toward him, and it made her want to weep with the realization that she was not only angry with Lord Elrond, but that he was ripping her love of him right from her heart.
"I have never played games, my lord, not with either Rhyse or Elladan. I was quite serious with both of them. But it has taken my experience with them to let me know that I am indeed completely in love with Elrohir. My love of him is different than that I had for the others. It is deeper, more absolute. I would not even consider bonding with him if it were not. I understand the grave nature of this action I plan to take, but more importantly, Elrohir understands it. He asked me to bond with him, Lord Elrond. I did not ask it of him."
"No, you did not ask it of him. But neither will you do what is in his best interest and tell him no. I thought your love might run deeper than that, where you could be more selfless, do what should be done. I was obviously wrong."
He paced in her room like a caged cat seeking a way to escape his fear. Her heart at once pitied him, and then it pitied herself. She wanted things back the way they had always been—Lord Elrond loving her, taking care of her…
That might come in the future, but for now, he was not anything like he'd always been to her. He continued to speak, not shouting, but his words beat against her heart like strokes of a whip.
"In the end, you will not be here to see his shattered soul. For it will shatter with the loss of you, once the two of you are bonded and you eventually die. Yet that will not be a problem you will face, it will be one his family must meet and confront. We will watch as he withers and dies from his grief with your death. I have watched this happen to others before. I have wished never to see it visited on anyone I love, but you will have no worry; you will be gone."
"And how many of those who had lost their spouses were bonded to Humans, Lord Elrond?" Jeren asked heatedly. "Precious few, I think. Can you not see that it could happen even were I Elven, just as you and Elrohir are?"
"Yes, it could, but it will happen since you are Human—if you go through with this."
Jeren was determined he would not see her weep. He wanted to break her, and he was succeeding, but she would not let him see. "Would you please go now, my lord?" she asked him, her voice quiet but steady. "I am very tired and I have a long day tomorrow."
"All I ask for now is that you think about what I have said. Please. My son's very life depends on it." He stood looking at her for a few moments more, but then he turned and left.
Jeren barely made it to her bed before she was sobbing. She threw herself face down on her pillow so that the sound of her weeping might be deadened and not reach the Elf lord's ears. She did not know how long she wept, for she fell asleep, her body too tired to remain awake any longer, her heart in pieces and needing the respite.
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Later that night, though Jeren did not know how much later, she awoke in Elrohir's arms. It could have been ten minutes that she'd been asleep or ten hours, she had no way of knowing. The lamp beside the bed was still lit, but the cloak of darkness shrouded the outside world. It mattered not, because she remained too tired to think coherently. Or so she thought…
Because as soon as her eyes opened, her mind began racing. She didn't know what she should do—stay here and lose herself in her training until she could train no more, or leave and go back to the settlement. She very badly wanted to see Elen and all her family; cuddle little Charlie. Hear her aunt's sweet voice, feel her warm hands in hers as she told Jeren everything would be well. But it felt as if things would never be right again.
She didn't know if she loved or hated Lord Elrond right now. It had been so automatic to love him before—like breathing. She'd loved him with all her heart. But now… He was so wroth with her, and unless she did not do as he said, he would remain so. She could not bear that. But she also could not bear giving up Elrohir. She'd told Rhyse she would never be able to do so, and she knew she had not changed her mind. And now she felt an almost irresistible pull to be with him—love him; let him love her.
Was Lord Elrond right? Was she doing the wrong thing? She glanced at Elrohir beside her, his eyes glassy as he walked his dream paths. She was being very still, and knew it would take but one deep sigh to have him roused from his reverie and she did not want to do that. Her instinct was to hide—be with no one—but she welcomed his warmth. She wanted him so much, but his father's words still echoed in her mind—I thought your love might run deeper, where you could be more selfless, do what should be done…
Her emotions were in chaos. Her defenses were down, and she knew if Elrohir took her into his arms to make love to her, she would love him in return. But Lord Elrond's visit last night had cast doubt in her mind, and whenever she thought about their conversation, she felt icy, like a dousing with cold water.
She sat up slightly and blew out the lamp, then settled down into Elrohir's waiting arms again. She needed him desperately, and he seemed to sense this, so he pulled her closer. "Are you all right, Jeren?" he asked her, his voice scratchy from disuse.
"I am fine," she whispered, as she placed her fingertips on his lips. "Quiet, now; go back to your dreaming. It is what I aim to do."
He squeezed her more tightly, and heaved a deep sigh, settling them both better on her pillows. She relaxed in his arms, willing sleep to return. He gently stroked her back as they lay there and before she knew it…
…she knew no more.
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Jeren awoke the following morning with Elrohir spooned up behind her. She was startled at first, having him in her bed, but after a minute she got her bearings, and everything came back in a rush. She had not felt so utterly lost for months—she didn't like revisiting this feeling at all.
How would they get Lord Elrond to come around to their way of thinking? Or would he never do so, and they would be at odds forever? She could never endure that. What would she have to do to appease him? Give up Elrohir completely? She did not think she could do that, either—not at this point.
She rose from the bed, leaving Elrohir staring at her retreating form. He'd not said a word this morning, but he really had no need to. In short order she emerged from the bathing room, fully clothed, and headed to her dressing table to braid her hair.
Elrohir was gone—vanished, it seemed. And as she tried to braid her hair, she suddenly knew how much good Lord Elrond's poultices had been doing her—she'd gone to bed last night without one for the first time in quite a long while, and her arm was very sore this morning. She supposed she would just have to suffer, because she was not about to seek him out in order that he act as her healer again—not until they had mended their fences. And that did not look to be coming for a very long time.
So it took her twice as long as usual to get her hair plaited, but just as she finished, her door opened and Elrohir came in bearing a tray with their breakfast. She hadn't felt hungry in the least, but the moment she caught a whiff of the sausage that was on one of the plates, her stomach started reminding her that it often had a mind of its own. Elrohir placed the tray on the table in front of Jeren, and then he leaned against the wardrobe beside it and lifted the cover off the plates.
"Have you any appetite this morning?" he asked, with an innocent air about his face, but then his smile turned wicked when he added, "Does the sun set of an evening? Or rise at the beginning of the day?"
Jeren smiled at his teasing, and picked up a piece of toast from the plate. It had been buttered, but she also took the knife that she found there and spread some blackberry jam on top of it before she took a big bite. After she had chewed and swallowed, she said, "Can I help it if my appetite does not wax and wane along with my emotions?"
He leaned in close to her, his face mere inches from hers. "I would have it no other way." He kissed her lightly on the mouth, and then licked his lips. "Mmm… I think I will have a little of that." Jeren grinned as he fixed himself the other slice of toasted bread in the same way that she had done and began eating also. Just before he took a bite, he said, "You can't keep good people like us down, can you, especially when it comes to eating?"
Jeren chuckled at his antics, as she knew he was hoping she'd do. He was trying very hard to lighten her mood, but unfortunately he was having no luck. They set to eating their meal before it grew cold. He'd brought eggs along with the sausage and toast, with apple juice to drink—enough for both of them. They ate in silence until all the food was gone.
As soon as they were finished, Elrohir took her hand and pulled her up to stand before him. "Jeren," he said as he ran his long fingers along her cheek, "I am sorry how last night turned out."
"I should have listened to you, Elrohir, and bonded with you without anyone else's knowledge. But truthfully, we would just have this same problem, only later instead of now."
"That is true, Jeren. It wouldn't have mattered. I knew he wouldn't take it well, whenever he learned of it. But I ran a small errand while you spoke with my father last night. I decided a talk with Glorfindel would do me—and my father—much good. So I went to see him, told him of our plans—he believes me to be a fool—but I know he is on our side. He promised to speak with my father. If anyone can make him see reason, Glorfindel can."
"But they've already fought over this very subject only a few months ago, Elrohir," she retorted. "Except the people involved were Aragorn and Arwen, not us. It is likely to make things even worse, do you not think?"
"It could, in the mood my father is in. I think Glorfindel learned the last time what is fair and what is not in arguing with my father."
Jeren paced to the curtain and pulled it open, and glorious sunlight spilled into the room. "It could mean the end of their friendship, Elrohir. That would be tragic. I would hate to see your father without Glorfindel in his life."
"If that happens, Jeren," Elrohir said, "then it will be of his own making—no one else's."
As Jeren walked back toward Elrohir, he asked her, "What did my father want to talk to you about last night?" He paused a moment, but frowned when she didn't answer as soon as he liked. "I could have listened at the door, as I was very tempted to do, but I decided I would not be sneaky. I would just ask you right out. Now tell me."
Jeren smiled again. Elrohir was—Elrohir. There was no one like him anywhere, that she'd yet met, anyway. But she just continued to smile at him. When the frustration made itself known on his face, she merely said, "We just talked about you and me and bonding, and why it was a bad idea."
"I think it was more than that, Jeren," he said, finally serious. "When I came back in here last night, you were asleep, but you'd obviously been crying."
"And how would you know that?" she wanted to know, her face reddening with embarrassment.
"Your pillow was wet, for one thing," he said, and he smiled when he saw her smile again.
"I was asleep. My mouth was open, I'll bet. It was drool and nothing more."
He wrinkled his nose. "Don't be indelicate," he said, but he smiled.
"What—? Do not tell me that Elves never drool!"
"Only when they lust after beautiful maidens," he said, "or perhaps a particularly appealing dish." He looked as if he thought about that idea for a moment, then added, "Or perhaps that is one and the same."
Jeren laughed out loud that time; she couldn't help herself, and he hugged her to him. She leaned back a little and said, "He basically told me the same thing he told us when we were in his study last night."
He looked at her with doubt. "Somehow, I do not think that would have made you cry."
She rolled her eyes, knowing she was going to have to tell him at least a part of it, or he would never leave her alone. "He might have mentioned that you were your mother's favorite child…"
Elrohir barked out a laugh, the incredulous look on his face grew even more so as he said, "I cannot believe he would stoop so low, as to not only use my mother against you, but tell you a falsehood, besides."
"A falsehood?" Jeren asked with growing disbelief. "Your father lied to me?"
Elrohir shook his head as he told her, "I would not exactly call it lying, Jeren. I'm sure on some level he believed what he was telling you. But not only was I not my mother's favorite child, she constantly told me how I made her despair! Arwen was her clear favorite—and Elladan could do no wrong, even though he did whatever he pleased, most of the time. Everything that went wrong was always my fault. Well… It generally was, but that's beside the point."
Jeren just shook her head at Elrohir's tirade, smiling, but still not able to really laugh. He could see she was unhappy yet, so he said, "What else did my father say? You have not told me what made you cry."
"I wish you'd quit bringing that up!" she said heatedly. "You know how it embarrasses me to weep! Now I would appreciate it if you would stop talking about it."
"I will… just as soon as you tell me what he said to upset you."
Jeren heaved a big sigh. She knew it was inevitable that Elrohir would know what he wanted to know. "He told me—he said that…" She hesitated, not wanting to bring up the names of her two former lovers, but that is ultimately what had made her cry. Knowing that Lord Elrond had used that particular thing against her, grieved her more than almost anything else he had said. "He brought up Rhyse and Elladan, and he wondered if I was just playing at love with you. And to be honest, Elrohir, I have been afraid that that might be true. I do not think that it is, but it scares me."
He pulled her to him again, wanting to hold her and will the doubt from her mind. "It isn't true, Jeren," he whispered into her ear. She raised her eyes to look at him. "You have nothing to fear. I know you—you are too honorable to have agreed to bond with me at all, if you did not love me, knowing that my bond with you will last even after you are gone."
She fell against him again, relieved to hear him say that. She'd not thought about it in that way, but she knew that Elrohir was right. Regardless of what Lord Elrond had said last night, she did have honor. "I love you, Elrohir."
"I love you, too, Jeren."
"Jeren?" Elrohir said, as he moved her away from him gently. "I suppose what I really want to know is whether or not my father has succeeded in changing your mind. Are you still going to bond with me, even though he has expressed his disapproval?"
She looked at him for several moments, deciding what her answer would be. "Yes," she finally said, "but I do want to wait until he shows a little more favor toward our union."
"That may be never, Jeren," he said in a matter of fact sort of way. "He is not only against it because of what he fears my choice will be, but for several other reasons."
"You think if you do not say them, that they aren't real, Elrohir?" she asked him.
He smiled. "I know they are real, but I just do not believe they will affect me like he thinks they will." He looked introspective for a moment, and then he added, "I have given it all a great deal of thought; I think I would welcome fading, after you are gone."
Hearing him say this only confirmed what Lord Elrond was telling her! If he did not fight the fading, it was sure to happen. How could she follow through with their bonding, knowing he would embrace dying in the end?
Elrohir watched as her face turned panicked, and he hastened to reassure her. "Neither of us knows what our life together will bring, Jeren. It could be that we have a child—or children—whom I would not want to leave. There could be other circumstances that would have me wishing to remain in the world. And you know that Elladan would not give me up without a fight.
"I hope you and I could go to Valinor together, and then you would live on with me for—well, if not forever, then for much longer than you would survive here. My point being that we do not know the future. My father thinks he does, but he has thoughts of only what could go wrong in his mind, not of what could be right." He lifted her chin, because her eyes were cast downward in her fear. "And as I have been trying to tell you and my father, it is my life—I want to choose how to live it."
Jeren put her arms around Elrohir then, her love for him overflowing her soul. To think he was willing to give up his very life just to be with her was daunting, but it also showed the depth of his love. She knew at this moment—without any doubt—that she loved him just as profoundly.
Elrohir gently pulled on her braid, raising her face to his. He kissed her as he'd not kissed her before. It didn't feel any different on the surface, but deep in her soul it felt almost as if he were claiming her heart once and for all.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
A/N: Ai, I hated letting Jeren and Elrohir get so close to bonding and then it not happening, but that is the way of a story, is it not? Twists and turns and disappointments. And an eventual happy ending? Yes, that is my promise that there will be a happy ending to this story, but much still must happen. Please come back and read some more...