Eldarion
Going to dinner is the last thing I want to do.
But I do because I have to and the questions about my absense would be even worse.
I am late, and that does not help matters. It means the only place for me to sit is next to Estel. Normally I would have chosen there anyway but with Elrohir staring daggers at me across the table and a whirl of possibilities in my head I would rather not.
And I am so angry I cannot eat a thing.
I poke and prod at my food while my father and Legolas laugh and talk together and all I can feel are Elrohir's eyes on Estel and I, watching every move we make. It does not help when Estel, no doubt picking up my anger lays a hand gently on my arm. His touch burns me. It lights me on fire and I jerk my arm away.
"Have I done something wrong?" His voice is quiet, his eyes are hurt and it is Elrohir's fault. More than a lifetime I have waited for friendship and now Elrohir warps it all and destroys it.
"No." Quickly I shake my head, but I do not move my arm back near him. "I have a headache, that is all." A convenient excuse that is not that far from the truth. I press my fingers into my temples. It does not help to make the thoughts that buzz inside my head go away.
"A headache?" It is not Estel that answers me but my Father. Of course he has heard me . . . Of course. "Are you well Eldarion?"
"Well enough. It is just the sun, Father, and a long day."
"You are not eating." Now my mother is watching me. I do not have the patience for this. I feel the weight of all their expectations pressing down upon me.
"Perhaps a day off from the building?" my father says then. "You have achieved so much there. Do not work yourself into the ground."
"I enjoy it." The last thing I need is him getting it into his head to take the project out of my hands. "I will go and rest now. Later I will eat, Mother," If I do not say that she will never let me go. "I am sure it will ease off with a bit of peace and quiet."
"I am serious, Eldarion," Father says. "Consider taking a break."
"I have had a break, Father. Days of a break, when I went to find Legolas. The men do not have one, why should I?"
"Perhaps the men should have one?"
"Then where will our people live?" I exclaim. This gets out of hand. My white lie is spiraling into something I did not anticipate at all. I am not in the mood to analyse our accomodations or debate logistics with my father.
"Our people will survive you and your men having a day of no work," He says softly. "It will not be the end of the world." He does not understand for me it is not work. Being able to build and create with wood is a joy.
"Perhaps you are right." I say it to bring an end to the conversation more than anything. "I will give the men time off and there are things I can potter about and do by myself, small things that bring me joy. I will do that, Father."
I do not convince him, the look on his face tells me that but at least he lets me go.
I retreat back to my room and lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling above me. There are a million thoughts spiralling inside my head. Is Elrohir right? Even if he is . . . How dare he?
And most of all, what do I do?
The room is darkening when the knock comes on the door.
I do not answer it.
And it does me no good. Not even silence will keep my sister out of a room.
"What are you doing? It is dark in here." She opens the door and sweeps in, all energy and motion. "I can hardly see!" With a whoosh the lamps flicker into life banishing the shadow to the corners and I blink.
"I said I had a headache." I frown at her but she ignores me.
"Mother has sent me with food," she says instead, despositing a tray by my bedside, "and you can drop the excuses, Eldarion. I know you have no headache."
"Mother has sent you?" Despite myself I am hungry and I reach across to pick up one of the sweet cakes she has brought me, "or did you volunteer because you want to annoy me?"
"So," she ignores my questions and curls herself up on the bed beside me, helping herself to one of my cakes. "What is bothering you? Is it so hard getting used to being a King no longer?"
"I am pleased I am a King no longer."
"I know that," she says, "but I also know you are not used to being told what to do, or having to answer to Father once more. I do not blame you. It must be hard, but you are too defensive some times, Eldarion. Father was worried about you this evening. He was not trying to dictate to you."
"I know that!" I do know it. I know his concern was genuine. "It is not his dictating I am angry with."
"So you are angry!" she exclaims almost with glee. "I knew it. Who has annoyed you? If it is not Father then who?"
"None of your business!"
"Eldarion,"she sighs, as if she needs great patience just to deal with me, "this is me. It is you and I against the world, remember. So many times I have sat in the evenings with you and listened to your problems. Why not tell me them now?"
She is right. For long years Tinu was all I had. The only other elven soul in our world she alone understood my grief for my parents and she alone saw what leadership cost me. She used to come in, on evenings when I was overburdened with worries, and sit next to me, as she does now, to lessen my load with her blunt, frank, astute and yet humorous advice.
Why not tell her? Then she can tell me to stop being so foolish and I can sweep this whole incident away.
"It is Elrohir who angers me."
"Elrohir?" I have surprised her. Despite myself I chuckle for I do not often achieve that.
"Elrohir. He tells me what to do. He tries to control my life, and I will not have it. Not this time."
"What makes him be so foolish as to try and do that? What do you mean he controls your life? You are not even answerable to him."
"Well he thinks I am," I take a breath before I say the rest. "He stormed in here this evening, demanding I not love those he thinks unsuitable."
"Demanding what?" It is not often I have my sister lost for words. "Why does he talk to you about love at all? Who does he think you love here? Who is unsuitable?"
"Does that even matter?"
"Yes it matters! You cannot tell me only half the story, Eldarion." She looks at me oddly, "Who is it?"
"He imagines things that are not real. He saw Estel and I at the swimming hole, and he—"
She throws her hands up to her face with glee as she answers me.
"You are enamoured with the silvan! I knew it!"
"I am not enamoured with him!"
"Well why not?" She tilts her head to look at me with a smile, "Why ever not, Eldarion. Estel-from-Valinor is quite appealing. I think he would suit you well." She is teasing.
"If you think him so appealing you go after him. Elrohir will probably find that quite acceptable."
"Oh he is not right for me," she laughs, "not at all. He is far too quiet and gentle for me."
"He is not quiet and gentle at all!"
"And you would know that because?" She laughs so hard at my discomfort.
"Because he has been working with me, that is all."
And suddenly she is serious, just when I begin to lose my temper.
"You protest too much, Eldarion. Why is that?"
"Because he is my friend. Do you know when it was I could last say that? And you , and Elrohir, and this nonsense . . . It will ruin that. I feel it slipping through my fingers."
"Well, why does Elrohir think him unsuitable? . . . Just pretending between you and I since as you say, it does not matter anyway. What are his objections?"
"Who knows," I shrug, "because it will destroy my father, he said, and upset Legolas." I pause then, to let the thought roll around inside my mind, "and probably because I am a Man."
" A Man. . . Or a man? Which do you mean?"
"Most likely both."
She is silent then for the longest time, gazing at her hands and when she looks up at me, finally, she is deadly serious. All hint of teasing is gone.
"I do not think any of those are good reasons not to pursue this, Eldarion, if your heart wants it. The fact you worry for your friendship is the only thing that has merit as an argument against it. Elrohir is wrong."
"Elrohir is blind. He saw nothing because we were doing nothing. His imagination runs away from him.
"And what does he say?l
"Who, Elrohir?" Surely I have already told her enough about my uncle's opinions?
"Estel. What does Estel say?"
"Estel knows nothing of this and you will not tell him!"
Again she gives me her coquettish smile.
"I can tell you one thing.. . He likes you."
And briefly it is as if my heart leaps before my mind wrestles it into submission.
"How can you know that? Do not say rubbish."
"I just know it."
And suddenly I realise what she has done.
"Tinu! Tell me you have not been helping yourself to his thoughts!"
"The odd thought. Just the occasional one."
My sister has inherited from my mother the ability to see beyond the surface into the thoughts that lie behind the faces people show the world. She is not as adept at it as Mother who can almost strip you bare if she so wishes. For Tinu it is just flashes of insight—but unlike my mother Tinu is not always so circumspect in her use of it.
"You know that is not alright, not without invitation."
"If someone invites you in, Eldarion, they will show you nothing you do not already know and it is boring. Estel-from-Valinor was interesting. I wanted to see what Valinor itself was like. "
I realise I do not want to know what she has seen in Estel's mind. It is an intrusion and would be a betrayal.
"Tell me nothing more!" I say severely holding up a hand. "I do not want to know what you have seen in his head!" And she sighs, as if I have disappointed her.
"Sometimes, Eldarion, you are too honorable for your own good."
She picks up my hand then, lacing her fingers through mine, before she speaks.
"I know you have been lonely," she says quietly, and Tinu is seldom ever quiet. "I have been there, remember. I understand a friendship would be important to you. I also know sometimes you would rather let things wander on at the same pace, in the same way, than take a step that may be challenging. I think you should put aside all Elrohir has said. What right did he have to say it? Who cares what our father or Legolas think . . . It is not for them to say. I know you have kept hidden parts of you for far too long. You should step into the light. You should talk to Estel about whatever it is you might feel, and whatever it is you want."
"And if I do not know what that is?"
"Then he may help you decide that."
"It is not as easy as you make it sound, Tinu," I say but I do not let go of her hand. For all her wildness, for all that we are so completely opposite and want for such different things Tinu has been my rock right through all the years of my Kingship when I was alone. Her advice is often wise. Her methods however can sometimes be eccentric.
"I know it is not easy for you, Eldarion. You are too used to hiding, even from yourself. It is time you are honest. It is time you are Eldarion. Not the son of Aragorn, not the King of Gondor . . . Just Eldarion."
"I do not even know who Eldarion is."
But she shakes her her head determinedly.
"Yes you do," she says. "Yes you do."