FLUFFFFF! Sorry, but I had to indulge myself... Next chappie!
Chapter 28
It is eventide, and the moon is stitched into the darkening sky with the clouds crocheted around it in patterns that drift around lazily, continuously framing the moon in different designs.
The Fellowship is trying to make light as much as possible for the times that are coming ahead, to keep our spirits light.
I laid in the grass, out in the garden, using Aragorn's lap as a pillow and Drago as a footstool.
"This," I sighed, "is the definition of comfort." I declared, eyes closed in bliss. The rest of them chuckled at me as I waved my arms vaguely.
"I wish I were as comfortable as you." Aragorn grumbled, shifting slightly. I cracked an eye open.
"You mean my head is not warming your lap enough against the cold?" I teased. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at me in reply.
"All this needs is a mug of ale and and a plate of-" Gimli started.
"Food." I finished. "Because not everyone likes the same things as you do." I said lazily. He grumbled while the rest muffled laughter. Drago suddenly threw something at me, and I gave out an "oomph" of pain, jerking up as it poked my stomach.
"For a high wolf of Valinor, you have poor aim." I snarled, to which he bark-laughed.
I picked it up to see that it was a brush. I sighed. "Alright, I concede that you have a point." I admitted, standing up.
"What kind of point has to do with a brush?" Boromir snorted from the step he was perched on. I grinned at Drago.
"Well then, I'll show you first. Since Aragorn was complaining about it, I decided to show you what elves like to do for relaxation. Certain elves." I added as an afterthought.
I settled behind Boromir and grasped his hair, pulling my fingers through it gently. After getting rid of the biggest knots, I used the brush and slowly brushed through his hair, gently and methodically, using broad strokes. After a while he began to sigh and relax, slumping down on the step and rolling his shoulders.
I continued to brush, softly humming a tune that I remembered hearing in Valinor. His mouth opened slightly, and I remembered that it had been a long time since they had heard my singing. I finished with his hair, and patted it fondly. The strawberry-blonde was gleaming, and it looked smooth and slightly curled.
Then I moved to Aragorn. "You're next, Gwador." I said cheerily, and settled down behind him again.
"Boromir looks half-asleep, sister." He teased. "I think you must have had some magic in that brush."
I snorted. "Magic indeed. If so, then I blame Olòrin." I jabbed the brush in said wizard's direction, and he raised an eyebrow, white hair gleaming in the moonlight.
"In fact, it's a very magical night tonight." I said as I brushed through Aragorn's hair.
"How so?" Gimli asked, puffing away on the stem of his pipe.
"It is said that it was on a night like this that Beren first saw Luthien. The elves say on this kind of night to beware, for this is the kind of night in which hearts are lost and never found again. A maiden crowned with moonlight and starlight, singing the lay of Luthien and garlanded with flowers, the soft fingers of Yavanna." I recalled with a dreamy smile, looking down at Aragorn's face that was now tilted up to me.
His hair was a chocolaty brown, glinting in my fingers like rivulets of molten bronze, and his clear, green eyes smiling up at me. I smiled back fondly and patted his hair.
I moved on to Legolas next, and began unbraiding his hair as well. He shook it out once I had gotten it all done, and I grinned. "Muindor, do you remember the question that little girl in Rohan asked you?" I asked him. He laughed.
"I will never forget it." He gasped.
"What was it?" Pippin spoke up curiously. I was laughing too, but managed to answer as I brushed Legolas' hair.
"She asked-" laughter "what elves did-" more laughter "to keep their hair so-" I was doubled over by now "smooth and shiny!" I finished, and managed to make Haldir burst into laughter as well. The rest were chuckling as well.
"What do they do?" Asked Pip. Three elves were currently unavailable to answer, being put into absolute stitches with tears in their eyes as well.
"Nothing. It is natural, fool of a Took." Gandalf replied fondly.
"Oh." Was his disappointed answer.
I finally righted myself and managed to get his hair done, braiding it back into the proper style. His hair was like the finest silk, golden and rippling like fingers of searching sunbeams. He smiled his thanks, and I nodded in return, kissing his cheek.
"Yrch." I teased, before hastily moving on to Pip, to the immense amusement of others. Haldir had to be told that one. He nodded, and I made quick work of his hair.
"Perhaps it is an indulgence, but will you do it too, Mithrandir?" I asked, waving the brush at him questioningly. He nodded.
I slowly took his hair into my hand, touching it reverently. "What does it feel like?" Aragorn called from his seat. I grinned at him while Gandalf sputtered on his own pipe smoke.
"Oh hush Gandalf. Everyone wants to know how a wizard's hair feels." I said with a grin. "It feels like-" I pursed my lips. "A cloud would feel. Like newly carded wool." I added.
I brushed through the light hair, watching it grow a little whiter and softer than it had been before. I flicked my wrist a bit. "Do you people never brush your hair?" I asked, annoyed. "Besides elves and wizards." I added.
"Didn't have a brush." Was the reply. I rolled my eyes.
"Fingers." I reminded. A sheepish shrug was my only answer.
"That answers my question." I said dryly, finishing Gandalf's hair. He sighed and thanked me, lines in his face smoothed out slightly.
"Haldir?" I asked. He smiled slightly.
"Please." He replied. I sat behind him and unbraiding his hair. My fingers were light and swift, and when I was done, I curiously ran my fingers through his hair. It was soft and light, and the brush ran through it easily, knots coming undone like fingers parting water.
I listened vaguely to the conversation that started about the differences between different sword styles. My thoughts, however, ran off in a different direction, back to the conversation with Gandalf earlier that day. What was it that he could be talking about?
A feeling that I had brought about in others, I mused to myself. My fingers ran through Haldir's hair mechanically, brushing after. I didn't notice his slightly twitching fingers that clenched in the grass as though restraining an urge.
My mind slowly came back to the conversation at hand, just as I was asked a question.
"If you could add any weapon to your own, what would you choose, Eruanna?" Boromir asked me. I looked up.
"Me? I would choose twenty throwing daggers." I replied. They stared. "Hey, you asked. I already have a new weapon being made in the smithy." I wrinkled my nose.
"Twenty? Where would you put them all?" Gimli asked incredulously. I smirked.
"Master dwarf, I could hide a hobbit on my person if I wanted to." I replied, eyes sparkling. Legolas was smiling at me, and I answered it with a knowing look.
I finished brushing Haldir's hair and fingered it for a moment. It was like molten silver, running through my fingers in slivers of pure moonbeams. I braided it back and scooted next to him, finished.
"Hannon le, Eruanna." Haldir said. I smiled in reply. The others also murmured thanks and I nodded.
"I concede that Drago had a point." Boromir grinned. We laughed.
Aragorn stood with a stretch. "I believe Eruanna made me sleepy, but I am not sorry, for we should get rest." He said.
Several others stood and said their own 'good nights,' until one by one they left, until only I and Haldir were left. Drago had pattered off with Boromir to escort him to his room.
I stood and glided softly over to a patch of moonlight in the garden, looking up to smile at the sky. I touched my Morningstar, knowing that Eärendil was watching me from his lofty seat in the skies. As though he knew that I was thinking of him, the Morningstar flared slightly with bright, soft starlight.
Something told me that I would see my parents tonight, after trying the hall of doors. I closed my eyes in bliss at the feeling.
...
Haldir was trying to clench his fists to squash the urge to turn and grab Eruanna, and smash her to himself. As it was, he shuddered unnoticeably at feeling of her soft fingers gliding through his hair.
Her fingers were heavenly, soothing his mind as she brushed through his hair. She finished brushing and fingered his hair for a moment. He wondered what she thought of it, but brushed it off as she re-braided it and scooted next to him, finished.
"Hannon le, Eruanna." He thanked her gently. She smiled in reply, and his heart skipped a beat.
As the others retired one by one, leaving them alone in the garden, she stood and went over to a patch of moonlight, smiling up at the sky as though greeting a friend.
Slender fingers brushed her neck, and in response her Morningstar flared with starlight.
His breath hitched in his throat as he looked at her, a vision of beauty. She was right. The elves were right. This was the kind of night that in which hearts are lost and are never found again. Except that he knew where his was.
In the hands of this fair maiden crowned with moonlight and starlight, unbeknownst even to her. She held his very life in her hands, for she could break or replace his heart with hers.
Her eyes closed in seeming bliss, and he longed to be the cause of her bliss. She turned to face him, and his emotions must have shown a bit on his face, because her face suddenly flushed slightly, to her obvious confusion.
"Lle naa vaanima, Euranna." He dared. (Your beauty shines bright)
She blinked, then looked down. "Hannon le, Haldir." Her voice was soft and shy.
...
I felt a bit surprised. That was a very unexpected compliment, and I didn't know what to make of it.
A finger suddenly tilted my chin up, and I looked into Haldir's face. "Why do you shy from my words?" He murmured gently. My lips parted slightly.
His eyes suddenly blazed with emotion, and I stared into the deep blue depths, drowning in a sensation that I couldn't place. His eyes darkened, and a shiver ran down my spine.
Suddenly, a memory flashed in front of my eyes. A vision of the future from Lady Galadriel's mirror.
I stood by the shores of the sea, and the white ships of Cìrdan the shipwright bobbed on the soft waves as they splashed against the rocks of the shore, and the calling cry of a seagull beckoned me to board. A hand slipped into mine, and a familiar voice murmured in my ear, and I was aware of the necklace on his neck, faintly glimmering in the brightness of the docks and the reflection of the sun on the sea in his silver hair.
Familiar voice. Silver hair. The necklace that was a token of love. My Morningstar. Valar, the puzzle pieces clicked into place and I suddenly realized what it meant. These feelings, my reactions. The answer. The word.
Something was welling up in me. I pulled away gently and stumbled back. "I-I'm sorry, Haldir- I need to go-" I turned and fled to my room, tears of shock streaming down my face, leaving Haldir behind.
My heart ached. Surely he would never love me in return?
...
Haldir stared after her, his heart aching as she ran. He needed to speak to her. He needed to tell her that he loved her, that he wanted her-
He turned and made his way to his own room. Did she finally realize how he felt? Did he scare her away? For once, he felt afraid.
Should she refuse him, then he would fade from grief. He could not live without her. Funny, how he could survive battle and war and face death without fear, but the answer to a simple question could make him afraid for his life.
