Maerwen's scarf was locked, cocked, and ready to rock, as the Americans might say. The elleth tended to favor earthy browns and greens, and fortunately Lorna had had a few skeins in different shades of both colors. While stripes didn't seem to figure into the elves' clothing...at all, but what the hell, that was just what you did when you didn't have enough yarn to make one thing. It too was done up in paper, now residing under the Christmas tree.
Ortherion's gift had been completed only earlier that day and Earlene felt ridiculously nervous, reminding herself over and over that this was just a fun thing. But as usual with the things she worked on, she'd put too much effort into it, gone overboard, and now wondered if the entire thing wasn't ridiculous and if the ellon would even like it at all. Oh, she was certain the unflappable smile of thanks would occur, and that was the worst part. She knew Thranduil and Thanadir, but it had taken her months on end to learn to read the seneschal. Other elves still felt...opaque, to her. It was not obvious what they felt or thought. Oh can't you shut up and let it go, Earlene. It's just supposed to be a little thing. God, I want some of that wine.
The past days prior to this Christmas Eve had been wonderful in the sense that they were busy; the days had felt full and stimulating instead of empty and with nothing to focus on but the assorted unhappinesses of pregnancy. One other positive development had manifested as well; after the fourth day of being unable to walk, something shifted, and Earlene's legs cooperated again. Though, it was uncertain how much of an improvement this was. Thranduil was unconvinced about the stability of this change, and feared that she would fall. Though she did not have to be carried, she had been...he stopped short of forbidding her, but he made it clear that he very much wanted someone to walk alongside her at all times. Had it not been for how much she was enjoying her projects, she felt reasonably certain that an epic fit of sulking might have been the outcome, but as it was, she'd risen above it. For now. And it was of course another one of those things she felt she could not vent to Lorna, because….that might be like throwing gas on a fire.
After days of waiting, the time for the Yule Feast and the gift exchange was at hand. Realizing that it was likely to be the most momentous event remaining before the birth of her children, Earlene was for her part greatly looking forward to it. There would be sweets, real sweets, like cake and some candies. They were to exchange their 'family' gifts tomorrow, and it would of course be Allanah's first birthday. Allanah was already dressed very prettily, and happily gnawed on the ribbon that decorated her little gown. Earlene, on the other hand, stared into her wardrobe whilst contemplating her options. There were three dresses that fit her now, and she was wearing one. The other two were...the other two. All of them were worn all the time, because they were more or less all she had. It was senseless to ask for many dresses when this would all be over with so soon, so she had never said a word to the ellyn, nor would she. But tonight, it felt like a heavy blow. A holiday on which she got to appear like she did every other day. She sighed as she gazed mournfully into the open doors, allowing herself a maudlin moment before she would force herself to dissemble that she was perfectly happy with it all. Really, her dress was clean and as good as any of the others, and she always had on her very beautiful necklace that felt like a part of her body, anymore.
A soft tap came on the door and she contorted her features into a theatrically practiced smile. A smile which became far less contrived when she saw that it was Thanadir, and not Lothiriel, though she felt horrible about that disparity. He walked to her, obviously hiding something behind his back, which caused her eyebrow to arch, though she said nothing. He laughed, knowing that little went unnoticed by her clever mind. "This is for you, dear Earlene." Her hopefulness shot up, at seeing one of his familiar cloth-wrapped bundles of what was so obviously fabric. Untying the string freed it, to reveal a lovely gown of emerald green, but this was nothing like anything elven. It was modern, and it was stunning. "I will help you with it," he said kindly, though he had to wait a moment because he was having the air squeezed out of him by her hug of thanks. He laughed. "I know how hard it has been for you, Earlene. Even I would not be happy with only three garments to wear." Which elicited a chortle, for Thranduil was known for his neat but unassuming manner of dress, almost always wearing colors of the forest whose only ornament was embroidering... in the same colors as the fabric in question.
Once on her, she saw that it was a flowing gown with a plunging neckline that made no secret of her...assets. The panels that went over her shoulders were really meant to be folded down, further adding to the daring display. A soft and very long tie wrapped repeatedly just under her bust, allowing the rest of the flowing fabric to move with every step. It was so very beautiful, but some teasing was required. "Meldir, was this a present only for me, or for the King as well?" she smiled, laughing as she lightly hefted her breasts with her hands.
Thanadir smiled mysteriously and replied, "It will bring happiness, will it not?"
This caused her to laugh uproariously, because they were both perfectly well aware of Thranduil's proclivities, though they were only rarely freely acknowledged in conversation. The topic was not 'seemly,' and they both respected that unspoken boundary. She only shook her head; it need not be said aloud. He offered her one of the lovely white knitted garments she had bought on Inis Mor, and regarded her with a critical eye. "Would you allow me to braid your hair?"
With an eager nod, she sat for him. He often wore his nearly waist-long hair partially pulled back from his face in two neat and thin braids that somehow were not in the least feminine. That or, she was becoming so accustomed to elven habits that males with braids seemed more commonly masculine to her now than anything else. Soon he was finished. "Thranduil will return very soon, and Lothiriel is in the outer room should you require assistance. You are content where you are?" With only the faintest grimace she replied to him.
"I would prefer to be nearer the fire." He offered his hand to help her rise, and hovered nearby as she walked the tiny distance, biting her cheek to stave off the verbal tantrum that wanted to escape. It would be churlish, to force him to listen to her complaints after he'd shown her such kindness. "Thank you, Thanadir," she said with sincerity.
He gave a kiss to her cheek. "This was my pleasure, Earlene. You are welcome, and your appearance is very beautiful. And now to surprise Lorna. I hope," he smirked before departing.
Unbeknownst to Earlene, Lorna was having a similar issue. Even her ordinary tunics no longer buttoned over her middle, so she'd been content to wander about in various flannel nightgown-slash-dress-slash-small tent combinations. Tonight was a special occasion, though, and she could hardly wear those lovely combs Ratiri had given her with a green-and-black checked housecoat and fuzzy slippers - for her feet had been too swollen for ordinary shoes for the last month. Yay.
Poor Ratiri was at something of a loss, too. Being a smart man, he knew better than to just say she looked lovely in anything, so don't worry about it - he didn't want a boot lobbed at his head, thanks so much.
"I'm a lump," she groaned, flopping onto the bed - on her side, since laying on her back anymore really sucked. "A disgusting lump in flannel, in a hall full'v elves. Shoot me now."
A soft knock came at the door, admitting the seneschal, who was as politely direct as always. Had he made some sort of study out of that? One could rarely accuse him of wasting time. "I must give you part of your present early, Lorna. I hope you like it." He held out a wrapped package to her, his face largely unreadable as always.
"Thank you, Thanadir," Lorna said, her mood rising a bit. Sitting up, she unwrapped it carefully, and grinned at what she found. A deep green tunic, cut to actually fit her current body shape, along with a red-and-black tartan scarf, black leggings, and soft black boots - the type that weren't actually meant to be worn outdoors, and could thus stretch to fit her feet in any way needed.
Her damn hormones of course misted her eyes over, and she hopped off the bed to hug him. "Thank you, Thanadir," she said again. It wasn't just that he'd brought her something nice to wear - he'd brought her something she would like to wear, something Lorna, not Elf.
A rather large smile graced his features, by Thanadir-standards; he had taken his best guesses and succeeded. "You are welcome," he said in his usual cadenced tones, though with extra warmth. "I will see you soon at the feast."
Oh God, she was such a sap. "I won't be ashamed to be seen there, now," she said, running her fingers over the tunic.
"Thank you," Ratiri said, just as heartfelt and with no small amount of relief. He hadn't been certain what he was going to do, honestly, because this was one area in which he had no experience at all.
He turned at the doorway, and announced, "There will be cookies!" before flitting off to do whatever it was he did with his time.
"Well, he's got his priorities straight, that one," Lorna said. "Here, allanah, help me out. I really am a land whale."
It took some doing, but they got her into her outfit, and she actually smiled when she looked at her reflection in the mirror over the dressing-table. She looked - and felt - like a human again, not a flannel slug. Brushing out her hair, she worked in the beautiful combs, and beamed at him.
"You look lovely," he said, and meant it, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Now let's get biscuits." He offered her his arm, just like the Elves did it, and together they headed out to see just what Christmas with the Elves would be like.
Thranduil came breezing into their bedroom after happily nodding in acknowledgement at Lothiriel and Allanah, and stopped in his tracks, stunned. Which told Earlene the answer to her tangential question, of whether or not Thranduil knew of this or had discussed her dress with the seneschal. That would be a resounding No . Her gratitude for her meldir soared, even as she enjoyed the sight of her husband's appreciation.
"You approve?" she asked, amused. While she would not be so crass as to ask, she guessed that his eyes might not be the only part of him registering approval. And yet, her thoughts were not hidden from him.
"Surely you cannot blame me," he said softly, now walking to kiss her, even as he placed her hand on the answer to her question. "And yet now is not the time for lovemaking. Regrettably. You are always beautiful in my eyes, Earlene. But this...I now fear that my gift for Thanadir will be poor by comparison."
Her head tilted in curiosity but she knew better than to inquire; he was very secretive about giving gifts. So after escorting her to the facility one last time, they all made their way out, with Earlene covering a delighted Allanah's face in kisses. And they all laughed, and Earlene blushed a little, when the little fist made a definite grab at her displayed breasts. "Hungry already, little one? First we will try some of the foods at dinner." They moved along to the festive hall, which had many more candles lit than she had ever before seen; it was lovely. And no sooner had the King seated his family and himself, than the meal was served. He gave Lorna an admiring nod across the table, as platters of lovely food appeared. It was an exquisite presentation, and Thanadir looked fit to cry with happiness. Because Lothiriel ate with them to mind the baby, Ortherion did as well. Everyone did their best to make their relatively new additions feel welcome and comfortable.
Jesus, didn't Earlene look lovely...Thanadir must have got to her, too, like the Fairy Godfather for pregnant ladies who didn't want to feel like slugs. "How do they cook all this, given they've got no electricity?" Lorna asked Ratiri, as quietly as she could. "I mean, I'm sure the answer is 'because elves', but still."
"It's 'because elves'," he said, loading his plate. Steamed vegetables, and plenty of baked sweet potatoes for Lorna, who had developed quite a craving for them (if only the Elves had marshmallows). Four different kinds of meat, none of which he could name on sight, though he suspected one of them was some kind of pheasant. Rolls, fresh butter, more pies and cakes than he could count, and he had to make sure to get a little of all of it for Lorna, to satiate her sweet tooth. It was all Elf food; he didn't have much room for disapproval.
She stared longingly at a carafe of wine for a moment before settling down to her meal, and he worried that as soon as she was through nursing, she was going to go on the bender from hell. Something told him she wasn't going to nurse the twins as long as Earlene was nursing Allanah, but her body would tell her when it was done. Earlene was a slightly different case, her body having been manipulated to produce milk early.
Earlene noticed Lorna prodding a little at her sweet potatoes and motioned to Thranduil at one particular ceramic container that held a small ladle, and nudged it in front of her friend once she received it. "Here, Lorna. I've been corrupting the kitchen staff; Thanadir has been slowly bringing some of my kitchen tools over here that don't need electricity. I took the liberty of showing them how to make marshmallows, and therefore, marshmallow sauce." She grinned in spite of (well, because of , would be more like it) the look of dismay that flashed across Ratiri's face. It's a goddamn holiday and she deserves to drown her yams in sugar if she damn well wants , Earlene thought rebelliously. Besides, if elves made it they probably found a way to add...some vitamin or other, though that made no logical sense.
Lorna's face lit up, and she made somewhat restrained grabby-hands for the dish, slathering her sweet potatoes in about a half-inch worth of fluffy white goodness. "Corruption is a good thing, sometimes," she said, and at least managed not to speak with her mouth full. "God, I could eat these every day for a year."
Ratiri was quite sure she could, and he would just keep his happiness at the fact that it wasn't feasible to himself. He pretended not to notice just how much of both she added as she went along; she wasn't going to have room for much else if she kept on like this, but he'd learned months ago not to remark on her appetite in any way, shape, or form.
Earlene rolled her eyes. She felt that she herself ate awfully well, but Ratiri was bordering on insanity with the degree that he worried about Lorna's eating. Not that it was something to aspire to, but it stood to reason that many women in the outer world lived on Skittles and Coca-Cola during their pregnancies and still managed to deliver healthy children. By contrast Lorna was eating a nearly perfect diet; the meals provided to them were balanced and made from real, whole foods; nothing was processed that did not involve special "human" treats. No additives, no highly refined craptastic products of the modern industrial food system. Even if they fed her nothing but hot chocolate made from Buttercup's milk, she wouldn't be doing too badly.
It dismayed her, that she could not eat very much at once; perhaps somehow some of this could be brought to their quarters later to enjoy when her hard-pressed stomach had made room again. When Thranduil finished eating, so had most everyone else within her sight, and the King rose. With both excitement and nervous butterflies, she thought the gift exchange might begin now, darting a nervous glance at Ortherion, who looked happy as he leaned down to whisper something to his wife that made her smile. They seemed very sweet, very happy together, and Earlene wondered how many eons of time they had been wed, feeling a twinge of jealousy over something she knew was denied to her. You cannot think about that , she admonished herself. Ever. Never ruin what you have; only be grateful. And with iron discipline, she did just that, blinking back the moisture in her eyes that had barely begun to pool.
He spoke, and the light dimmed all around the Hall, and most of the candles were extinguished. While her understanding of their language remained imperfect, she believed that his words said, more or less, "We celebrate our Feast of Yule with the mortal customs of Christmas tonight, in honor of new friendship and love. The custom of the gift exchange will follow after, but it is now that we remember this celebration of light in times of darkness." There was a pause, during which all who listened seemed to withdraw into reflection. "Before the first of our people awoke on the shores of Cuiviénen, our Lady Elbereth had placed the stars in the sky, that we would not be left in darkness. When some of our people heeded the summons to Aman, they found another creation of Light; the Two Trees sung into life by the Lady Yavanna. When these were destroyed, darkness was not allowed to prevail, and the Valar set Ithil and Anor into the heavens. We rejoice in the Light given to us, but most especially our beloved starlight, even as we now mark the solemn remembrance of what has been lost to the world. Ruscion, if you would?"
All eyes turned to a beautiful dark-haired ellon of noble bearing that stepped forth to take the offered hand of the King, first bending on one knee before him in respect before he rose. Thranduil in turn bowed his head deeply to this one. The King, who would have been difficult to see in the faint light were it not for his soft radiance, waved his hand once. The space in the middle of the hall filled with a shimmering vision of the Two Trees of Valinor, Laurelin and Telperion. Thranduil was sharing Ruscion's vivid memory, for all of their honor and remembrance. Earelene's hand instinctively moved to cover her heart; she did not notice that the other elves did the same. Nor did she have awareness of her own gesture, except that her heart compelled her to do so. The beauty was as nothing she could imagine; they were being shown the minutes of the waning of Laurelin and the waxing of Telperion. And as the latter tree blazed into the flame of its golden beams and the silver light of softer hue died away, Thranduil allowed the vision to fade. With one last bow, he released the hand of ancient Ruscion, as all present bowed their heads in thanks. There were not words, and Earlene wondered how, exactly, she belonged with these indescribably spiritual beings who seemed to exist on a lofty plane so far above her. It was a given that she would have to find some mental space alone, to consider this. She had just been allowed to see something from Valinor ...how did one even begin to process a privilege of that magnitude? Her eyes squeezed shut. Thranduil had told her once that if she elected to serve him, she would have experiences and rewards, that she would not otherwise. That certainly was no exaggeration , she frowned.
Her thoughts were a runaway train. One of the Eldar, here, has lived in the light of the Trees? She felt like her mind was on the verge of melting. Manwë one week, the sacred trees of Valinor the next. It all felt very big. Too big. Mortals were never meant to have anything to do with such things , she thought. Though nothing about her expression changed outwardly, her insides seemed to be frittering apart. At that moment, Thanadir reached his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her to his kiss on her cheek in the still-dark cavern. "Be at peace, Earlene," he said softly, even as she was blanketed by very different feelings. Calm, tranquility, acceptance sifted through her.
"Why did you say that?" she asked Thanadir, very quietly and for his ears only. "Did Thranduil tell you to?"
"No," he shook his head, confusion now suffusing his voice whose tones and inflections she knew so well. "I...do not know why. Have I offended you?" Now she heard hints of worry.
"No meldir, it is only that…" she sighed. "I think I would like to speak with you later; this is not the place or time for my musings. But, thank you. Your words were needed."
If anything could be one of Ratiri's childhood dreams come true, it was this. Of course he'd tried to imagine it all as a boy, but even the most vivid of human imaginations had limits; he simply didn't have the context to visualize something so hauntingly beautiful. He pulled Lorna close - Lorna, who he noticed had tears in her eyes, staring with rapt fascination at something no mortal could conceive of unaided. To have seen such a thing - to have lived it - Ratiri wondered what twist of Fate had brought him here, so that he could have met these people, and experienced something most would never dare believe could be real.
Lorna hadn't had a great deal of imagination as a child; her life had not allowed it. Nevertheless, she and Pat had based games off The Hobbit when Mam read it to them, hunting dragons and treasure in fantasy wilderness of a sort they'd never seen in real life. Then she'd discovered elves, and they'd let her into their world...what had she done, to deserve this? Had all the misery in her life been some sort of pre-emptive karma, building up to give her something wonderful? Yes, there were tears in her eyes, because nothing in her entire life had ever been this beautiful - it was so lovely it hurt, a dull ache in her heart for all the things she had never seen, and that her short mortal life would never let her. To witness this, even in memory - what in fuck had Gimli said, in Fellowship of the Ring? 'I have looked on that which is fairest', or something of that nature. She understood it now. A tiny, wounded sound left her throat, tear-tracks glittering in the dim light.
It could not be only the mortals that felt so affected, because as the lights came up again and candles were re-lit, all faces in the hall were suffused with a solemn joy...even though presumably, this was not a brand-new sight for those present. And even though it had been a vision, an effulgence seemed to linger in the air, just as had been described of Laurelin and Telperion of old; that their light did not merely illuminate but moved in dews and mists that continued to shine.
Thranduil glanced over at their table, realizing with some inward dismay that it had been a serious oversight, not to have told the humans in his care what the celebration entailed, but it was too late now. He would have to find...something, later, especially for Earlene. Continuing on, he announced the gift exchange. Packages large and small waited under the tree, and Thanadir moved to assume this duty. He would read the name to whom each gift was addressed; inside would be included the giver's name. Thranduil would hand his seneschal the items, one at a time. So with a considerable smirk on the part of the King, the first name Thanadir read was….Thanadir. Every eye eagerly looked at him; for all his reputed sternness it was obvious that he was a cherished favorite of all the elves. A table was provided, for unwrapping in the sight of all, and he revealed a wooden, hinged box, whose lid he lifted, with a gasp of surprise as he looked up at Thranduil in disbelief.
The King smiled and removed his gift, lifting the ornament bearing a green beryl to his seneschal's brow, and placing the lovely circlet on his head. "Merry Christmas, Thanadir," he smiled warmly. "It was my privilege to draw your name," he clarified to the still-bewildered elf. Even Thanadir could not retain his grasp on his usual formality, and his deep bow was rendered somewhat comical by the grin of childish delight he could not erase from his features. Earlene did not care, she applauded, and Lorna and Ratiri joined in the clapping. All the elves looked at them in confusion before concluding en masse that this must be part of the custom, and joining in, which caused some snickering among the humans. It was all in good fun, and Thanadir's ornament added to his beauty.
Maerwen came next, receiving the package that was only somewhat clumsily wrapped (Lorna tried). The scarf had actually come out quite well, long enough to wrap around someone's neck and still have plenty of ends to tuck into a coat. It was soft and warm, and Maerwen thanked Lorna with an inclination of her head.
Ratiri was called after her, and discovered a book in Sindarin - specifically, a picture book, much like a primer used by human children. The note enclosed said that it was from Vanya, one of the laundresses, whose own child had used it.
"Len Hannon, Vanya," he said, holding the little book reverently. When he returned to Lorna's side, she joined him in looking through it, at the beautifully painted images and flawless calligraphy. Even Ratiri, with his doctor's precision, wasn't ever going to emulate it perfectly.
Up went Ortherion, receiving his package. Earlene felt vaguely terrified, and was trying hard to keep her face from showing it. Even as she admitted to herself, that her emotions were completely ridiculous. How was it that she could do what she did, in a courtroom, in complete control of herself, and now be reduced to a quivering mass of worry over giving a gift to an elf? While part of the answer was 'hormones,' there was more. She actually cared about the elves, and what they thought, in a way she had not with any other large group of people before. Ortherion opened the wrapping, puzzled at first, but then he began to read and perceive what this was. His face lit up with what appeared to be a favorable response, as he looked from the document, to Earlene, and back to the document again. 'Booklet' might be a better word, because it had needed enough pages that Thanadir had insisted on carefully sewing it together for her by hand, with the kind of thread used to bind books. He'd even trimmed a regular file folder down into a sort of cover for it, and even though it was a hopeless cannibalization of assorted common office supplies, he had rendered the finished product into something halfway attractive. His "Thank you, Hiril vuin," seemed genuine, and he returned to his seat and excitedly began to show Lothiriel what he had been given.
Well it wasn't a total bomb , she thought, relieved. He seems to actually like it.
Thranduil could not avoid knowing her response, and felt so sorry for her. She was becoming an emotional shadow of her former self, and he did not know what to do for her.
Lorna went next, waddling her way up to the table, infinitely grateful Thanadir had given her nice clothes - it would have been somewhat embarrassing to walk this gauntlet in fuzzy slippers. Her gift turned out to be from Thalion, the guard who had found her while she was lost (she was never, ever going to get over the fact that the word 'lost' meant 'empty' in Sindarin. Ever.) It turned out to be a set of throwing knives, better suited to her tiny hands than those used by the elves, perfectly weighted. "Len hannon, Thalion," she said, lightly running her fingers over the flat of one's blade. She didn't care what Ratiri said - she was practicing a bit with these tomorrow, even if just for a little while. He could hover, if he felt the need.
And so it went - Rîniel presented Earlene with an ink drawing of Buttercup and the chickens; Bainor the cook received a set of human specialty kitchen items from Thanadir; Thalion was given Ratiri's framed translation of Sonnet 55 in Sindarin. That one took a bit of explanation, including that it was difficult in places, because translating Shakespearean English into Sindarin wasn't an exact science.
Thranduil was next, and both Lorna and Ratiri leaned forward, wondering what on Earth Feren would have made for him.
The King unwrapped his package, and looked in admiration. It was a woodcarving, something meant for decoration in the home. The same pattern of trees in winter leading into a portal was rendered in bas relief on the wooden tablet. Thranduil was obviously very touched by the effort and gave sincere thanks. Earlene liked it because it was well-done but not opulent, and hoped he would keep it in their bedroom.
Many more small things were exchanged before the evening was over. Books, poems, an axe (the mortals did not understand this, but as everyone laughed they assumed there was an inside joke they did not understand), small gifts of food, drawings, and what Lorna was sure was a carved stone rabbit for use as a doorstop (again, unfathomable...elves). As a special treat, a very lightly sweetened hot cocoa was ladled into drinking bowls and served to all, to conclude the celebration. Happy chatter was heard all around, and Earlene was pleased to realize that they had been there long enough that she could eat some more food with her cocoa.
"I'm taking these knives out tomorrow," Lorna told Ratiri, "and you can't bloody stop me."
He winced a bit, because he knew that tone - it was one of complete finality. "Can you at least ask if Thranduil will go, too?"
She rolled her eyes. "Jesus allanah, I'm not going to stab my own foot or something." Fortunately she was quite enjoying this cocoa, so that was all she said.
"I know. Still, would you? Please?"
God damn him, he had something close to Thanadir's superpower. She couldn't resist it when those grey eyes turned on the Puss in Boots look. "You're a manipulative sod, but fine," she said, trying to sound stern. She couldn't keep a smile away, though. "Someday, you'll have something that'll make me hover over you and breathe down your neck twenty-four hours a day, and you'll realize how bloody annoying it is."
He was wise enough not to respond verbally - he just leaned over and kissed her temple. Bastard knew just how to get to her, and yet she let him, every time, because he was Ratiri.
It being late, they went their separate ways; their own private family holiday would commence in the morning. Thanadir took Allanah, who had fallen asleep some time ago, from Lothiriel and kindly bade them a good night. He smiled. Earlene did not see because of where she was seated, but the couple had hardly left off from looking at her gift to Ortherion since it was given. Thranduil insisted on sweeping Earlene into his arms as they walked back, with Thandir following at a little distance, admiring the sleeping infant. He strongly suspected that his King was having increasing thoughts of a nature inspired by Earlene's dress, and wisely gave them some room. And indeed, Thranduil was fully appreciating the sight of Earlene's charms as they bobbed enticingly, mere inches from his eyes. In spite of her swollen belly, she actually felt pretty tonight in this lovely garment, and blushed to see her husband's eyes drinking in the sight of her body.
Probably fortunately, Lorna was entirely unaware of anything untoward; she'd enjoyed her dinner and she'd like to keep it down. She leaned ever more heavily on Ratiri, but she refused to ask him to pick her up. He knew better by now than to offer, either; when she wanted help, she'd ask, and that was that.
They made it back to their own room in one piece, and she gratefully flopped onto the sofa, sighing in contentment. "Christ that was tasty," she said, leaning her head back and shutting her eyes. "Best Christmas dinner ever, though don't tell Mairead I said that." She wondered how her sister was doing in France, if she and Big Jamie were having one big Christmas dinner together. Probably, and knowing those two, there'd been at least one fantastic row in the kitchen.
"I value my scalp more highly than that," Ratiri said dryly, sitting beside her.
Lorna yawned hugely. "So you get your present tomorrow, but you don't get it in front'v everyone else," she said, and paused. "And I didn't mean that to sound kinky. I just mean it's private."
"I trust you," he said, not entirely certain he meant it. Either it was going to be something sweet, or something he should be utterly terrified of. Either way, it was bound to be interesting. "All right, let's get you into pyjamas before you fall asleep on the couch." He pulled her to her feet, helping her out of her Christmas clothes and neatly folding them over the back of the sofa. Her nightgown didn't fit anymore, so she usually slept in one of her flannel tents. After a trip to the bathroom and a quick brush of her teeth, he had her bundled in for the evening. She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.
Ratiri sat awake and read for a bit, but it wasn't long before he too headed into slumberland, barely remembering to turn out the lamp before he did.
Thranduil was dipping his head down with increasing frequency to place kisses on Earlene's exposed breasts, which was at first exciting but then became borderline alarming when she realized that he had lost all awareness of Thanadir as his desire rose. Biting her lip, she was not quite certain what to say. Perhaps he would return his senses quite soon? Though when he was nudging fabric further aside and nearly exposing her nipple, matters were not appearing hopeful. Well, there was always strategy. "My Lord," she breathed in her best honeyed tones into his ear, "if you would wait until the baby is settled and Thanadir has said goodnight, I will make it worth your while." It was her best ploy, and she had no idea how to back it up, but it was all she had and she did not want to see her dear friend mortified. He lifted his head, his eyes already glazing with lust, but he smiled at her.
"As you wish, meluieg."
Very soon, it was time to deliver on her promise, and there was only one thing that came to mind. Well, he would either be over the moon from this or beyond appalled, and there was only one way to find out. But at least that would take yet awhile, because he was not remotely done enjoying her dress. She was right back in his arms, and he had resumed where he'd been asked to leave off. With a dangerously naughty gleam in his eye, he'd kissed his way down her throat to her full breasts while murmuring "mine". That word hadn't been heard in a long while, and it was charged with memories. Memories of being possessed by him. Memories of willingly yielding to him. Craving him. A thrill ran through her frame at the recollection of the first time he had touched her, for it had started much like this. He delicately slipped the fabric off of one nipple as he leaned in to latch onto her. Eyes closed as his hands roved to slip off her undergarment, caressing her under and over the sensual fabric of the dress as he nursed. It was hard to know how long this went on; the steady insistence of his tongue while fingers explored and teased and untied and unlaced and unhooked. Both breasts had been exposed at some point early on in his ministrations, because he had easily managed to slip the dress over her head, thus keeping it from any harm.
Thranduil relocated them to the sofa near the fire, continuing now without the interruption of her clothing to stifle his progress. Carefully taking her breast again, he paid worshipful attention to her body, teasing her with light brushes of his hands all over until she stifled a moan as she was lifted and lowered onto his member with incremental slowness. Just enough of her mind was left intact to marvel at how he'd worked out this position, because she was seated across his lap. He could nurse on her and thrust into her at the same time and coupled with the fire's heat warming her skin deliciously, a delirium of arousal had come over her. "I am yours, my King" she whispered. "All that I have to give, is yours." She gasped as the children inside of her kicked hard; he instantly responded by caressing her abdomen with soothing touches even as he set the rest of her aflame. The harder he suckled the greater her enjoyment became; the sum of his attentions were euphoric in a way that exceeded anything she had known before. With a stifled cry of ecstasy she climaxed hard around his unrelieved shaft; he held nearly still to allow her to take her full pleasure, kissing her softly as her breaths game in great gulps.
He too was reeling from this, for his pleasure in lovemaking was always doubled; he shared her mind and therefore the bliss of her responses. She returned his kisses with fervor; her lust was satisfied but not her wish to show him love. There is something I would like to try, to please you, but I am afraid I will offend you, she blurted out in a moment of complete honesty. She had thought about this so many times, since his aur en onnad, and lacked the courage to ever do more but bury the idea.
What is it? he asked, curious.
In images rather than words, she showed him what was done, and that (if the written word was to be believed) that it would afford him an extreme physical pleasure. Like what she had done for him before but...more.
This is outside my experience, but if you are willing, I will be as well. She was carried to the bed while he retrieved a towel, because there was always the chance that uncharted territory could be messy. He spread it out and laid himself on it, taking up the silently requested position of lying somewhere between on his side and on his belly with his legs scissored open; giving her access to all of his intimate places. She warmed their lubricant in her hands before touching him, thankful that her fingernails had finally been carefully trimmed down and smoothed by Thanadir some days before. Even as her hand explored new places slowly and gently, she positioned herself between his legs so as to enjoy him with her mouth, knowing that this alone was something that gave him bliss. Light touches gave way to firmer pressures as she used her tongue and extra hand to full advantage. And after many minutes, one of her slender and well-slicked fingers found its way inside. The articles had been right; it was not hard to locate what she was seeking and with a very gentle touch she applied the first caress.
Feather light but relentlessly, her dexterous finger kept up its ministrations while she kept him in her mouth, encouraging him silently to rock against her and gently thrust into her mouth and the fingers curled around his member. The moans began almost immediately. Meluieg, I beg you, do not stop. This is...I have no words.
I want to feel your enjoyment, beloved. I will not fail you . The torrent of soft but impassioned sounds from him was like nothing she had ever heard. It felt like a privilege beyond compare. Of all those alive, only she could give this intense pleasure to her King. She noticed how he pressed himself against her new efforts with zeal as he built up to his release. "Earlene" escaped his lips as she felt the spasm tear through his nether regions as he writhed in her hold. What he poured out was eagerly sought, and when he had subsided she crawled up to hold him. I love you, my Lord. Tender kisses were placed on his chest, neck and face as he smiled in happiness, though her belly made reaching some of him a tad awkward. That and needing the lavatory, when she didn't trust herself to crawl much less walk.
With a chuckle, he sat up, gathering her against him. Meluieg. We will care for your needs, and then ask Irmo to bless us with pleasant dreams. And he will most definitely have his work cut out for him, after the pleasures we have had when yet awake. Thank you, for what you gave me.
I will assume the report was favorable, then?
He did not stop smiling beatifically until he had fallen sound asleep as he kissed his wife's radiant face.
Christmas morning had its own alarm clock, as Allanah's cries woke them both. Earlene instinctively flailed the covers away to go to her, but was hampered by herself, and that Thranduil had taken over that side of the bed. (Privately, she suspected it was a ploy to keep her from going to the restroom on her own; there was little room on her side of the bed to get out of it and the only real way out of the bed was over his body.) "I will care for her, meluieg. Stay in bed." She was both soiled and hungry; the former he cared for swiftly and for the latter, he brought her to her naneth and joined them both in bed. The little tears of upset were quickly replaced by contentment as she suckled hungrily, causing Earlene to gasp.
"I think her mouth is becoming stronger," she said in a strained tone of voice, "but Happy Birthday, sweet little girl". It was rather early, to have what felt like an industrial strength suction pump attached to her anatomy. Moments later, it became apparent that wandering fingers were intent on enhancing her experience, and so Christmas morning was off to quite a nice start. When the baby was done, Earlene ensured that more than one thing was sucked on, so that when the sounds of tableware were heard clinking in the outer froom, all within the bedroom were quite content. "Everyone will be here soon," Earlene murmured, this time very glad to be helped to the facilities.
"There is time to use the pool, meluieg, and I know that you would like it. As would I. Just a few minutes?"
She nodded, unable to resist the idea. If they spent more time nuzzling each other and kissing in the pleasantly warm water than in rubbing the scented soaps on each other's bodies, no one was complaining. "Happy Christmas, Thranduil," she said as he dried her off, clearly far more interested in returning to bed than in behaving himself.
"Happy Christmas to you as well, Earlene," he smiled. "You can forgive that your husband is insatiable, I hope?" he murmured in a teasing voice.
She laughed. "I feel loved, Thranduil. There are no complaints, for I desire you as well. It is only that you may never get me past my inability to ignore poor Thanadir's sensibilities."
The King chuckled. "I remain unconvinced that he truly has any left, but I do not wish to cause you discomfort. Come, let us get you dressed. I thought perhaps you would enjoy wearing human clothing today? It is a special occasion."
Her eyes lit up. Long used to the elven dresses, she in many ways even preferred them. But that it had been the same. three. dresses. for weeks. "Yes, please." Maternity leggings and one of her very loose and wide tunic tops had been procured from her clothing at the cottage. She had her Inis Mor cardigan, and felt very happy.
When they emerged, Lothiriel was waiting for Allanah, and Ortherion was finishing with the table. "Good morning and Happy Christmas," they said in stereo. And Ortherion added, speaking carefully, "Thank you for my gift. I like it very much." (He pronounced 'much' more like 'mooch,' which was adorable.)
Earlene's face lit up in a smile. He really had liked it. "You are very welcome," she said slowly. Just then Ratiri and Lorna entered, with Thanadir bringing up the rear.
Lorna had managed to take a bath without actually falling asleep in it, which was a miracle. Ratiri helped her back into her Christmas clothes and got her hair combed out and braided. She even managed the walk without waddling too badly.
"Happy Christmas, you lot," she said, a sentiment echoed by Ratiri as he helped her up onto the couch. "I love the cardigan, Earlene." She looked so happy to be in human clothes for once.
The sentiment was echoed all around, and tea was poured. Ortherion bowed and retreated, and they all moved to the table. There was the usual porridge, but also fruit tarts that were perhaps leftovers of the pie-making process. And to Earlene's delight, the kitchens had paid attention to another of her recipes, squash pie. There was actually squash pie with sweetened whipped cream for breakfast. Perhaps if I say nothing the others will leave them be, and there will be more for me. It was an educated guess, that this was unknown here. And besides, not everyone liked squash pie, even in America. Absurd though that was, to her way of thinking. Thranduil's eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. He was in rather a frisky mood, which he attributed to having had entirely too much pleasure last night. There were two squash tarts, and he served himself one of them just to see the look on her face. When he saw only her smile of unselfish happiness that he would enjoy this, his mischief was undone. Now he was genuinely curious, and used his knife to cut a small slice. Pleasant surprise came over him. This was not too sweet, and the spices created a warm sensation. He sliced it in half, transferring the cut part to her plate. "Try this, meluieg. It is very good." His eyes sparkled. He should probably be ashamed of his sense of humor, but sometimes it was difficult to control himself. She laughed, shaking her head at him.
"Thanadir, have you tried this?" she asked, cutting off a small piece for the seneschal seated next to her and placing it on his plate. To her great astonishment, he tasted it and wrinkled his nose.
"I am sorry, Earlene, I do not care for this. The texture is very strange, to me." She did not know whether to note on the calendar that she had found a dessert he did not like, or celebrate that there was more for her. Possibly both... everyone enjoyed the extra variety, she drowned her little tart in whipped cream, and soon it was time for presents.
It being Christmas, Lorna had two cups of tea, and her look at Ratiri dared him to say anything. Wisely, he did not; honestly, she was far enough along that he didn't know why he still worried, but he couldn't help it. He certainly couldn't fault her for eating two fruit tarts, for he did it himself.
He glanced at the presents under the tree, and wondered just what on Earth she meant, saying his was to be private but notsomething kinky. Perhaps he just wasn't yet caffeinated enough, but he had no idea what could fit that description.
"Thanadir, it really is so nice to have something new to wear," Lorna said. "I hadn't wanted to get new clothes, but I feel like a human, not a lump'v different sorts'v flannel. The same thing over and over gets boring, so it's nice to have this to break it up some." She was actually considering ordering some more stuff off Amazon, or at least looking at pictures and asking Thanadir if he wouldn't mind concocting something like it; she'd feel like less of a land whale if she had a few different things. She wasn't quite as bad as poor Earlene, with just the same three things day in and day out, but she'd reached the point where she was close. Hopefully this was a sign Earlene was leaving off her seeming obsession with elf clothes, and adding some human variety. (Lorna was never, ever going to understand the appeal of dresses. She recognized that other women took to them like she took to plaid, but the allure had passed her by.)
Thranduil's inner world was somewhat brought to a standstill, at hearing Lorna's thoughts, He turned his focus to Earlene again, watching her. Her fingers were running the fabric of her top through her hands, and she was thinking about the flower pattern and that it gave her happiness to see it. That it cheered her. And yet prior to a fleeting thought this morning, she had not ever complained about the clothing she wore here, nor had he observed that this subject was even in her consideration. He would have to ask, later.
"So it's my first Christmas in another country. My family would do much like what Thanadir and Thranduil did last night; someone, usually my father, would randomly grab presents and hand them over one at a time and we'd all watch them be opened. What do people do in Ireland, or does it just depend on family?" Earlene asked Lorna.
Lorna laughed. "I only know Mairead's family, but with four kids, it was like a shark frenzy. If we'd tried it that way we'd've been there all day, but there's just us five, so your way's probably better." She shook her head. "One time Niamh pulled a wad'v tissue out'v a bag, tossed it, and hit a candle. You can imagine how well that ended. I thought Mairead would have a coronary. One Christmas when I was a teenager, Shane somehow nicked an entire turkey right out'v someone's oven and we had it for dinner."
"Someday I really need to meet that man," Ratiri said. It wasn't the first Shane story he'd heard.
"I almost feel like I do, too," said Earlene, though with mildly mixed thoughts on the matter. She loved Lorna, but then there were those times like with the French toast…and she might not necessarily be able to cope with too much of that in a concentrated dosage. "Ratiri, how about you? Would you like to be the Hander-Outer of the gifts?" She felt like Ratiri so often was marginalized somehow, and it was a human holiday. His face lit up with a smile, and she could not honestly believe that Thranduil or Thanadir could care. A glance at the King seemed to swiftly confirm this, and it went without saying that if it was well with him, it was well with the seneschal.
It was easy enough to figure out which ones Lorna had wrapped (though he couldn't say his own were too much better) so he passed those around first, figuring it might be good to get theirs out of the way (especially because he wasn't entirely certain what Lorna had got everyone, and it paid to be careful). "In case you couldn't tell by the wrapping, these are from Lorna and I," he said, returning to sit beside her. "I'm not certain just what all of hers are, so I'm sorry in advance. Possibly."
Lorna elbowed him in the ribs. "Hush, you."
Earlene's package felt bulky and squishy, which had her guessing "weird scifi themed throw blanket" but she was completely wrong. She pulled the string loose that held the bundle together. It was a velvet robe in a truly lovely rust color that was reminiscent of autumn leaves. Soft and flattering, and cut in such a way that would fit her now and after she gave birth. And the sleeves were even those wonderful bell-shaped kinds, that you could shove each of your arms into as though they were a muff when you were really cold. She stood up to go and hug her, and give profuse thanks, only mildly annoyed when Thranduil hovered over her as she walked the short distance to Lorna. The two women exchanged a knowing look that said, more or less, 'we might let them live.' Which was quickly supplanted by a look of surprise from Earlene at her robe being tugged from her lap by invisible forces...until she realized Tail had come under her feet, and was saving their lives from the wrapping string and paper. She rolled her eyes, and tickled his tummy.
"Now, it probably goes without saying that I had a huge amount'v help from Thanadir on that one," Lorna said. "And by that I mean I managed to sew the straight seams, and he was nice enough to take care'v the fancy things for me." She hadn't even wanted to try to sew in the sleeves. Somehow, she always fucked that up on a garment, no matter how hard she tried, and left the underside of the armhole all puckered and weird. There was a second gift from Lorna, too...a book on the Irish in New York City. Her hands were instantly drawn to turning the pages...this was going to be wonderful reading.
Thranduil next opened this, smiling as he realized how hard his friends were trying unsuccessfully not to think of what his gifts were. Alas, only Earlene had ever managed some mastery at this. But he had the grace to pretend to appear somewhat surprised. A History of Ireland, and a compendium of world religions and their origins. While the content of the packages may not have been news to him, the contents of the books were. Beautiful photographs, old photographs, maps...he was going to enjoy this greatly, and he sincerely was grateful.
Thanadir came next, and opened his gift only to frown at it. It was a little device, much like Earlene's phone, and yet not a phone at all. He looked up, puzzled. "Ooooh, that is an iPod, meldir. It plays music, and you can listen to programs on it too." That information made him smile, just like the thought of an elf roaming the Halls wearing earbuds struck her as completely anachronistic.
"It has playlists of different classical composers," Ratiri explained. "They're all labeled. Also some traditional Irish and Scottish folk music."
"And Enya," Lorna added. She'd figured the elves would appreciate Enya.
"But wait, there's more," Earlene quipped in perfect imitation of late night TV sales. To her shock, Thanadir caught the reference and laughed. He is amazing, she thought with great fondness. His other gift from Lorna and Ratiri was a chess set.
"My mother had one like this," Ratiri said. "It's an Indian set - the pieces reflect the Indian equivalent of each European piece. Ivory's illegal now, so these are marble." Each piece was pale and smooth, somewhat larger than its European counterpart, and of course rather heavier. The board itself was black, but alternating squares had a delicate tracery of white leaves, of the same sort which formed a border around the entire board.
Thanadir's innocent eyes were filled with delight, and Earlene was fairly certain that either Lorna or Thranduil was not going to bed tonight. He was picking up the pieces and admiring them with his long, delicate fingers, and she wondered how long it would need before Thranduil had to leave the Dining Hall running all night as a Game Room. The King's eyebrows raised at hearing the thought; really it was an excellent suggestion and he would have to discuss it with Thanadir.
Lorna opened her package to find a soft robe that was heavier than a dressing gown, fleece-lined, big enough to actually button over her stomach. It was plaid, to her delight - a pattern of emerald green and a deeper, blue-ish green, with lines of dark red and white.
"It's the Clan Duncan tartan," he said, and just about fell over when she tackle-hugged him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
He disentangled himself from her hug after a moment, needing air, and passed around the next round of gifts, noting that they were all much better-wrapped than either his or Lorna's. Oh well. It was the thought that counted.
This batch appeared to be from Thanadir, which made the wrapping suddenly understandable. Earlene was very surprised to receive anything, because he had already given her the gorgeous dress last night. "Oh, Thanadir," she exclaimed, holding up the lovely gown that was clearly for some months in the future. It was a mauve color, with green fabric rose leaves sewn onto it, and clearly designed with springtime weather in mind. It was not fancy so much as just incredibly pretty. The bottom was irregular, too, in a flattering way; it reminded her of a fairy dress. "Thank you." The only tragedy was that there was no way to even try it on, now; she would have to be content with holding it in front of her.
From the feel of Lorna's package, there was also clothing in it, and she was pleased beyond words. When she opened it, she found what she thought of as 'elf camouflage'; it looked much like what she'd seen the guards wear, a tunic of deep greens and browns, along with leggings and even boots actually small enough to fit. "Thank you, Thanadir," she said, running her fingers over the fabric. "I'd hug you if I wasn't sure I'd fall over if I tried to stand."
Ratiri opened his to find a beautifully soft, beautifully heavy length of fabric that turned out to be a cloak, of a shade of green that would help him blend in with the forest. And yes, his inner nerd had a silent fanboy moment, because he had an Elven cloak. It had a hood, and pockets. So very many pockets. He needed to find things to put in them, just because they were there and shouldn't go unused. "Thank you, Thanadir. I want to go outside just so I can wear it."
Earlene couldn't recall the last time she had seen Thanadir smile this much, and it made her so happy. Guessing how lonely and misunderstood he must have felt at many times in his long life, and now this...it was heartwarming, even if her hormones were involved in her perceptions. Thranduil had a gift too, which he opened. It caused his wife to stifle a gasp of enjoyment. A modern dark grey blazer, in what she thought was about the sexiest cut she'd ever seen. And trousers that matched. They were casual enough to wear to the pub and yet oh so classy. She had likely just experienced what it was like for Thranduil, to see her in clothes that advertised her cleavage. Just, hot damn , Earlene thought.
There was a small package for Allanah, but by group agreement they decided to save it for the afternoon and her little party.
The next round of presents were Earlene's. She had to giggle when the one colossal box was dragged out and placed in front of Ratiri, who looked genuinely alarmed. This was Earlene, he reasoned; it couldn't be anything too disturbing. He opened it carefully, and to his delight discovered beer-brewing equipment, pots and carboys and even a funnel, complete with big, dark brown bottles.
"Dad and I did this, when I was a kid," he said, lifting a bottle out of the box. "Well, we tried. After it blew up three years in a row, Mam wouldn't let us anymore."
"I know how to make it not blow up," Lorna said. "We can have proper human beer." Christ, she'd have as much fun with it as he would.
"Thank you, Earlene," he said, looking up at her. He was rather more moved than he wanted to let on.
Thanadir opened his large stack; it was books. There was a little note, explaining that these were her favorites, and she wanted to share them with him. The pile was tall; these were titles like Moby Dick and The Three Musketeers, Country of the Pointed Firs, the Little House on the Prairie series, and more. A shared nod between them was more than enough communication. Thranduil opened his, to find three cashmere sweaters in different colors, marvelling at their softness. There was a letter, too. That is private, for your eyes only. You might want to read it when you are alone. Definitely not here, she told him. With a warm smile of thanks, he tucked the missive into the lining of his outer garment. All eyes turned to Lorna, who had four packages; tiny, small, medium, and what was almost assuredly a book.
Lorna started with the smallest of them, and discovered something that looked like a cross between elf-work and human-celtic - an oak-knot rendered in metal wire, used as a barrette. "It's lovely," she said - unlike the combs Ratiri had given her, this could be worn every day without fear of something happening to it. It took a bit of doing, but she managed to loop her braid up, fold it over, and affix the pin. The next smallest made her cackle with delight. "It's the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch!" she said, laughing so hard she had to lean against Ratiri, who took it and duly admired it.
"Thankfully not actually live," he said, passing it back. "The M7 wouldn't be safe."
The next felt like fabric, and indeed it was: a Holy Hand Grenade T-shirt. A T-shirt big enough to use as a nightshirt even now, and black, so it wasn't see-through. The fact that the grenade was encircled with the words "to blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy" just made it even better. Tucked within it was a Holy Hand Grenade window sticker. By now laughing so hard she could barely breathe, she managed, "Earlene, you are the bloody best."
The last one, the book, turned out to be a book on hair braiding. For all Lorna usually wore her hair in a braid, she had a terrible habit of just using the same plain, basic style, so she'd have to practice now. With her new pin, it would be even more fun - and she could come up with more elaborate styles for her fancier combs. "Allanah, d'you want to learn how to braid?" she asked, showing him the book. He'd made no secret of his borderline fetish for her hair, and she was unsurprised when he agreed. "Thank you, Earlene."
She grinned, having the time of her life. Thranduil's gifts were next, and with his usual secrecy, he'd hoarded them all away from the tree. Earlene rolled her eyes, finding his quirks endearing. He first handed Thanadir's gift to him; more books. But these ones were more volumes of human poetry. Earlene idly wondered just how fast the elf would read all these, and decided she did not wish to know. Next, a fairly hefty box of medium size was walked over to Lorna and placed on her lap, with a too-happy grin.
Lorna wasn't going to lie - that grin made her legitimately nervous. When she opened it, however, she just about squeed with delight. "Jesus, you don't do things by halves, do you?" she asked, pulling out a mug. There were twelve of them, and they were all Star Trek themed - a blueprint of the Enterprise and one of the Excelsior, one with the Starfleet logo in the colors of each crew department, and another...that one made her laugh, and she held it out to Ratiri. It was black, and had a stencil of the Enterprise on it, with GET IN LOSERS, WE'RE GONNA BOLDLY GO wrapped around the top. "Thank you, Thranduil," she said. "I'll have to drink a lot'v tea, now that I've got these," she added, with a pointed look at Ratiri, who wisely didn't protest (but then, he was a bit too busy fanboying over the mugs). Picard/Riker 2016, if only , she thought.
Ratiri was to be given something for which wrapping was pointless. "Please close your eyes for a moment, Ratiri, and hold out your hands." When this had been managed with a nervous smile, over Lorna's involuntary gasp of envy, a sheathed sword was placed into the man's grasp. "You may open them now," Thranduil said. At seeing his expression of disbelief, the King noted, "there is nothing quite like the motivation to be gained from wishing to be equal to a fine weapon, Ratiri. Because I know the significance would not be lost on you, I have chosen a sword for you that came from the armory at Menegroth. Our smiths in later centuries were never able to achieve the skill of those in Beleriand. This blade has served Elu Thingol, my father Oropher, and myself. Now it is yours."
Ratiri was so busy taking this in, so lost in the history of what he now held in his hands, that he couldn't respond. Lorna laughed a bit, still looking at the sword rather enviously - though not too enviously, since she had her knives. "He'll be away a bit," she said.
Ratiri had thought, by now, that he was used to this - that he'd accepted that all of it was true, and wouldn't have any further trouble or awe. Yeah, nope - his brain had all but shut down at the knowledge of what he was holding, of the history ...He was nowhere near good enough to justify having this blade, but Thranduil was right - it was good incentive.
"I…" That was all that came out as he carefully drew the blade, the firelight glinting red along the razor-edge. When he was a boy, he'd imagined having a proper sword, not the sharpened sticks he'd made. Never, ever would he have dreamt….
He looked a little too natural, holding that thing. And really, really hot. Lorna strove to get her thoughts under control, insofar as she could, and at least not scandalize Thranduil on Christmas bloody morning. "Breathe, allanah," she said. "Nope, he's well away."
Earlene was so busy staring at Ratiri with her mouth open that she failed to notice her husband smiling at her; she'd had no gift yet from him. And then her eyes narrowed, because Lorna looked excited, and even the imperturbable Thanadir had traces of interest on his face, though only her or Thranduil might have been able to see them. It smelled of conspiracy. "It is difficult to sneak anything past Earlene, wouldn't we all agree?" asked Thranduil, to a chorus of nods, enjoying her growing discombobulation. "Come, meluieg. Your gift is in the next chamber; there is not room here.
Her frown deepened. What had he done, brought in a draft horse?
No, he chuckled silently, holding his hands out to her. They all exited the rooms (Ratiri carrying his re-sheathed sword, of course), and she too was asked to close her eyes. She was carefully maneuvered to sit on a….something. It felt like a bench. What in Eru's name…?
"Thanadir will help you with your gift, Earlene. You may look, now."
"Valar," Earlene whispered, gaping at the double keyboard in front of her, the beautiful ebony colored naturals gleaming in a row. "You really got me a….how did you…oh who cares thank you so much" is more or less what tumbled out. She reached toward the keys, looking at Thranduil to make certain that this was something she was allowed to touch (every one she had ever been within ten feet of had a sign somewhere with strict instructions to keep one's hands off) and pressed a single, tentative note, feeling the resistance as the jack plucked the string...the sound was lovely, shimmering. Thanadir placed a spiral bound book in front of her with a clear cover, the sort that would have been run off at a printer's. 'Starting on the Harpsichord, A First Book for the Beginner,' she read. You have got to be kidding me. Someone actually wrote this? Look at how much I can learn...I have something to do now! And this instrument is so beautiful...
Turning again to Thranduil, she reached for him, wanting to give him a hug. Lorna and Ratiri smiled and thanked them again for their gifts, recognizing that these three were going to be snogging the harpsichord for some time yet, and elected to retreat with their gifts, promising to be back in some hours for Allanah's little party. When they were gone from the room, Thranduil gave Earlene a hug and a passionate kiss to go with it, so glad was he to see her happiness. He retreated to a sofa; it had been decided to remove some of the less relevant furnishings from this long disused chamber in favor of providing a place that multiple persons could enjoy hearing music. Lorna had given the idea of having it be a place to play more than just the harpsichord. While Earlene and the Elves had not been envisioned as some sort of weird Baroque Irish ensemble, it might be her closest chance to ever having Earlene and an elf in possession of musical instruments within ten feet of each other. Because clearly, her friend was not going to do something sensible, like learn to play an electric guitar in order to make this band name happen. Hey, sometimes you had to make lemonade out of lemons.
Thanadir quietly sat next to her, smiling, and they began to discuss the book. Earlene did have some understanding of written music, and helped Thanadir comprehend what was written about musical notation. He in turn had been playing on the instrument for weeks now, understanding the assorted sounds that could be coaxed out of it depending on whether both registers were used, or how long notes were held, or any number of subtle technical efforts. He had already worked out scales and fingering, and showed her what to do, setting many exercises to begin imitating. As the clear notes sounded, she wondered if she would perish from joy. Thranduil listened for some minutes, and then recalled the letter in his pocket. His wife and seneschal were as distracted as it was possible to be; he was as good as alone. Quietly, and carefully, he unfolded the paper and read:
Dearest Thranduil,
The most difficult challenge left to me is the simple act of creating a gift for you that can be a surprise-not easy, when the one you love can see into your mind. But today you are away in Dublin, bringing home holiday trees, and I have a rare moment in which to try.
Right now, my thoughts are laced with melancholy. You are away from me, and Thanadir is with you. I feel divided from everything in the world that matters most to me, except our children inside of my body. I could not have understood, what pregnancy would be like. It is joyous, and yet more difficult than I imagined. But for your happiness, I would welcome this again, if you wished it. I think humans perceive the passage of time with greater tedium, sometimes, just as I understand that my experience is colored by the changes to my body. You have done everything imaginable to ease carrying the children for me, and even when I feel overcome by the most irrational moods, I have not lost sight of this. But none of this is what I wished to convey in this letter, so I will move along; I cannot say how long I have, before your return to the forest.
It occurs to me that compared to some, I am not overly sentimental. Perhaps neither are you, and between the two of us it offers explanation as to why you have asked little regarding my early life, and I have offered even less. I have told you next to nothing of my family, or what forces shaped me except some assorted unpleasantries concerning my brother, by which time I was already a grown woman. So spectacular has my failure been on this subject, that I have never even told you the names of my parents. John Conor Sullivan met my mother, Anya Ingrid Weber, in the 1970s. My father's family was very solidly Irish, as is likely no surprise to you. When my parents were first introduced, they went on several dates before my father understood that my mother's name was Anya, and not Eíthne. The sounds, how they are pronounced, are very similar, and he believed he was courting someone of an Irish background. And to be fair, my grandmother on that side was Irish, but it was still something of a surprise to him. At any rate, they were already falling in love, so gran had to cope with the fact that some German blood was coming into the family. This was a joke, of course, my mother was held in high regard by all. They eventually married after a long courtship, then came Aidan, and two years afterward I was born.
My early memories were of being loved, and feeling that there were expectations for me to meet. My father worked very hard to not follow in the footsteps of his parents, who were essentially farmers. He wanted something different for himself and his family, and earned the money to have an education. He became physician like Ratiri, a surgeon. It was made very clear that while I was allowed interests and the normal pursuits of childhood, that it was my 'job' to take my education seriously. Both Aidan and I had my parents' considerable aptitude for learning, and therefore, there were no excuses. Generally I enjoyed school, and both of my parents instilled in me the desire and ability to acquire and process information. When I was a child, computers were not yet common. I grew into my adult life with a knowledge of how to seek answers from books, and later on how to make use of computers. I had a number of female friends, a few of them close, and did not believe that anything about my life was unusual. I participated in activities with others my age, though it is also true that at heart I preferred the solitude of reading my books. Though I had opportunities, I did not try to excel at anything except learning. Perhaps I believed that if I took the time to learn a musical instrument, or how to dance, or participate in theater, that I would only have to set it aside later. I felt like I could not give myself permission to focus on anything but learning itself, I think is what I am trying to express.
My life as a younger person was not unhappy, but neither did it ever feel complete. My parents, who I loved very much, provided me every tool by which to succeed as an adult. But one thing went wrong, I believe, or was missing. I cannot say exactly why, but I never learned to be truly open to others. If I had to place blame somewhere, I suppose it would be with Aidan. I wanted to love my brother, but there was almost only ever scorn, and mockery. When I did not date boys or have romantic relationships, he was quick to instill words that caused me to feel that something was the matter with me. Words that I am forced to admit I came to accept as true. And when no one of the opposite sex ever made any real attempt to pursue me in that way, it made the words even easier to accept. But even then, I believed I had enough. I had friends, accolades, and a position of employment that was coveted by many. I felt I was doing what I was supposed to be, with my talents. Even after the loss of what friends I had in this world, nothing about my core beliefs in this regard had reason to change.
You may never understand how out of character it was for me, to perceive a growing emptiness, to wonder what I might be missing in my life, and to actually take the steps to leave all that behind to seek out a new existence here in Ireland. I did not come here to seek a mate, or even friends. Just to continue on alone, and try out learning the things I had deferred, to see if perhaps some of those would fill in what seemed to be missing. And then within hours of my arrival, there was...you. Within days, you were unwittingly filling every void, raining on every desert of my spirit. Before you claimed me, you gave me the opportunity to leave this place, to seek another life; you might as well have told a starving man to leave the only source of food for miles around. Everything I had went into coming here. I could not leave, and I could not leave you.
I have reflected, many times, on how it was probably the strangest series of events in the history of humankind, that united me with you. I doubt I will ever understand, why it was me. It does not really matter. From you, everything has come to me that was absent, and more. And whatever the future holds for us, nothing will ever take that away. You made me whole, gave my heart peace, and joined together what felt sundered. It is my sincerest hope, that I have brought even a shadow of this joy to your own life.
This seems like a good place to stop. I wish you a Merry Christmas, beloved husband. For as long as is granted to me, all the love I can give is yours, my beautiful King; nothing will ever matter more to me than your happiness, for you have given me mine.
All my Love,
Earlene
An elephant could have trampled through the room and he would not have heard it. He read every word, and then read it again, before he folded the paper to return it to his robe, moisture glistening in his eyes. He rose, and silently left the room unnoticed; their backs were to him as they continued to investigate the harpsichord. Walking into their bedroom, he knelt on the center rug; the same place that witnessed his prayer thousands of years ago when he found himself bereft of his wife. Please , he begged. Please ...the rest of his prayer was not spoken aloud, and what was beseeched was known only to himself, and the Valar who listened.
Lorna had to admit, she was nervous. This was breaking with tradition in huge, huge ways, and while the two of them were anything but traditional, this one was, to her knowledge, very rare. How many women asked their boyfriends to marry them? She was pretty sure he'd say yes, but still. Anxiety fluttered in her gut like a trapped rat.
When they reached their room, she poked up the fire while Ratiri lit the lamps, trying to ignore her sweaty palms. She fetched the little box, clumsily wrapped, and clambered up onto the armchair beside the fire.
Only now did she realize Ratiri looked distinctly nervous himself. He was almost as fidgety as she was, in fact - and held a wrapped package of his own. "You go first," he said.
Jesus, here it went. Swallowing hard, she unwrapped the little box. She'd sanded it herself, while Thanadir did the bits of Earlene's present she couldn't handle. He'd also by necessity had to help her with the box's contents, since she knew fuck-all about forging in general, let alone something as intricate and delicate as jewelry-making. She'd actually managed to measure Ratiri's finger in his sleep, so at least she knew it would fit. Though they were the same design - long enough to cover the first joint of the forefinger, the silver woven into intricate knotwork that actually looked vaguely Celtic - it was easy to tell whose was whose, since hers was about a quarter the size of his.
"We went about everything arseways already," she said, when he opened the box, "so I figured, why not keep on? I was hoping you'd, um-" Great, Lorna. Really eloquent "-will you marry me?"
Ratiri stared at the ring, taking it out of the box. He was such a nerd that she'd known he'd love it done elf-style. "You and I think alike," he said sheepishly, as he slid the ring onto his right forefinger before giving her the box he held. "I was going to ask you the same thing." When she opened it, she found a tiny platinum Claddagh ring, an emerald at the heart.
Lorna looked at him, and burst out laughing. "Look at the pair'v us," she said, sliding the ring onto her ring finger. It went well with the silver on her right forefinger. "D'you think we can get away with getting married before Mairead gets back?"
"Oh, I have a much better idea," Ratiri said, with a smile that promised nothing good in the best possible way. "I would love to subject Baile to a Hindu wedding. My mother's bridal things are still in storage in Scotland."
"Didn't you say a Hindu wedding is like a week long?" Lorna asked.
"Exactly," he said, with a very slight smirk. There was an element of sin in it that did all kinds of things to her hormones.
"That's evil," she said. "I love it. And I love you." She leaned forward to kiss him, and reflected that here was one thing to tell the twins. How Thranduil had kept a straight face while knowing both their intentions, she had no idea; she couldn't have managed it.
"Main tumase pyaar karata hoon," he said, pulling her onto his lap. "It means 'I love you' in Hindi. 'Tha gaol agam ort' is the definition in Scottish."
"I didn't know you spoke Scottish," Lorna said, resting her forehead against the crook of his neck.
"I don't," Ratiri laughed, running his fingers over the length of her braid. "Not really. How do you say it in Irish?"
"Is breá liom tú," she said. "So what does a Hindu wedding involve? Aside from a lot'v food, apparently."
Ratiri laughed. "Well, for a start, you wear a bridal sari, and all the gold your family has - and my mother had a lot . Your brothers are meant to carry you down the aisle on a litter, which might be a problem, though."
"Big Jamie's like my brother," she said. "And Mairead might be strong enough. I don't weigh much."
"No, but gold does."
Lorna leaned back enough to look up at him. "How much gold are we talking here?"
He gave her a grin that was entirely disarming. "My mother's family was very wealthy," he said, "and if she was going to go off into some barbarian land, my grandmother wanted to make certain they were well-represented. With all that jewelry on, you'll have a hard time moving."
Her eyebrows climbed practically to her hairline. "Now I'm a bit scared." And here she'd been afraid of tearing an elf-dress...she didn't think she'd forgive herself if she somehow fucked up Ratiri's mother's wedding sari.
"You shouldn't be," he said, kissing her forehead. "Everyone else , on the other hand…"
"I knew I loved you for a reason."
He laughed. "It's best if we do it in the summer. We'll need a very, very large tent. Also, you need to get your nose pierced."
"I what ?"
"You need to get your nose pierced. For the nath. Admittedly, it's meant to symbolize the bride's virginity, but still," he said, shaking his head. "Non-virgins wear it anyway - rather like a white dress in Western culture. And it would make your sister brick herself."
Okay, that might make it worth it. "What else have I got to do? Get tattoos?"
"Not permanent ones, no. Indira and I can help you with the mehndi - it takes hours, and you have to hold very still."
"You're lucky I love you," Lorna said. "Now shut up and kiss me."
"As my lady wishes," Ratiri said, and did.
Time went by and though Earlene was engrossed, she finally had to admit, "Meldir, I do not think I can sit here any longer without a break. In fact, I have waited too long to move, I am afraid."
With chagrin the old elf realized, they had sat there for quite a long time, given Earlene's limitations. He did not ask, but carried her toward the lavatory, where they were both more than a little surprised to see Thranduil sitting alone in the bedroom. His reverie broke when they entered, and he took Earlene with murmured thanks. Her rising desperation for the toilet must have been telepathically obvious, because he did not hesitate to place her where she needed to be. In the privacy of the little chamber, she was embarrassed to find herself panting from the relief involved at no longer having to struggle to hold it. That had been a very, very close call. Good grief , she shook her head. But no harm done. Thranduil was there to help her wash her hands, and there was something different about how he was looking at her. My Lord? She reached to hold onto him. Is something the matter?
He struggled to master himself, because he could not, would not tell her what was the matter. That was quite literally in the hands of the Valar, and it would be completely wrong to add to her burdens. What he was feeling now was a consequence of his own choices- or was it? The King of the Valar himself had spoken plainly that their relationship had not been so random or of his own choosing as he believed...and that made a tremendous difference. Taking a deep breath, he helped her walk to where they could sit together. Weakening, he knew he could not maintain his resolve. Plus, he had vowed before Eru that they were together as one spirit now. I read your letter, Earlene. It was beautiful and heartfelt but has caused feelings in me that I know you did not anticipate.
With her keen insight, she took the measure of him, and lowered her eyes. I think I can guess what those feelings are, for I too struggle with them, though I try not to. I tell myself that it is foolish to fret and feel sorrowful when none of us can know the future.
I felt the same, meluieg, until the events of the past days. When a Vala informs one that a series of events was not so random or unplanned, and that he...chose you…
She laid her hand over his heart. Stop. You must stop, for both our sakes. I do not have your knowledge or your perspective. Only what I have read, and what I feel in my heart. Your gods, our gods, are not cruel, Thranduil. I have read some accounts that provide me with a thin thread of hope. If I am granted the opportunity, I will plead that we not be sundered from each other. I would give anything, do anything, for this mercy. In the meantime, I have been told that I am to do something that is their command, though I do not understand at all. I will obey willingly, and not only for the hope of a reward. For the happiness of your people, I would give my utmost; what greater privilege could a mortal have? Have that same hope and faith with me, and determine to do with equal courage what was asked of you. The rest lies outside our control regardless, and no amount of agonizing will make any difference. We mortals have a saying, 'hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.' I want the time we have to be filled with love and joy, not dread and fear. Today is our daughter's first birthday, and it is an occasion for happiness. She tried to crawl around so that she could kiss him. They were alone, so it became more than one kiss. He sighed.
"You have powers of your own, meluieg," he said, a smile emerging. "There is wisdom in all that you have said, and my heart knows it. I must wait in humility, as must you."
"There will be times when thoughts of sorrow will come, Thranduil. And when they do, I am here. As are you; I am not immune from this either. We must give strength to the other, when the need arises. I love you with all my heart, my Lord."
He laughed and half choked at the same time, shaking his head. "Do you know that many months ago, Lorna told me in a conversation that it might have been the Valar that caused you to come to the forest? She explained to me in just how many ways any other woman alive would have told me to...well, I am certain you can guess at that, actually. You speak to me with deference so easily, Earlene, as though you were one of us."
"I am one of you," she said rather forcefully. "And you are my Lord, and you are my King, and you of all people had better not start having a problem with that." Glaring eyes looked into his, until she had a moment to realize what she had said, and a generally horrified expression came over her. "Forgive me, I…."
He was already laughing. "Oh by Eru, Earlene, I love you. Do not apologize, I forbid it. It is time to return you to Thanadir."
"Thank you so much, for the harpsichord," she said, her eyes shining. "I am thrilled, and want you to know how much I appreciate it."
"Your eyes told me that, sweet one. And you are most welcome. Come."
Thanadir brought leftover pie and Allanah's little cake from the kitchen, with tea. Or rather, Thanadir supervised Ortherion at this task, and helped him, since a tray of rolls, sliced meats and cheese as well as some of the leftover roasted root vegetables took up some of a second tray. Lothiriel and Ortherion both were invited to share with the family in the very informal celebration of little Allanah's birthday. Lorna and Ratiri came in, looking immensely pleased.
Ratiri helped her up onto the couch, and they both burst out laughing when they looked at their hands. "So," she said, "apparently we had the same idea in mind." She held up both her hands, with the silver right on her right and the platinum on her left. "Felt like a bit'v an idiot, but there you are."
"We're having a Hindu ceremony," he added. "While I'm not terribly religious, it will give every busybody in Baile something to gawk at."
"And apparently I have to pierce my nose," she added, leaning against him. "And get loaded with so much jewelry I'll have a hard time walking. Because there's no way that will end badly."
"Always provided your sister doesn't drop you first. I know she's strong, but gold really is heavy."
"I don't have enough brothers," she groaned. "Big Jamie's kind'v a brother, but apparently my brothers're meant to carry me up the aisle on a litter. He could handle his half, but Mairead...well." Part of her was very tempted to ask her brother-from-another-mother, but while she viewed Thranduil as such, she had no idea how he viewed her , or if that would somehow be beneath his station. Even she had a hazy idea that just wasn't what kings did.
NOW you decide to remember that I wear a crown? Kings do not throw French toast either, he smirked. Besides, in the outer world, I am merely Fionn Sullivan. And, my heartfelt congratulations. I am going to hug you. And he did just that, managing to restrain himself so that she could still breathe. He kissed her cheek, too, without warning. There were not words for how joyful this made him, though he would hardly tell her that.
Lorna squawked slightly, but hugged him back. I've been in here too long, she said, and even her mental voice was dry. I figured there have to be a few things beneath your dignity. She laughed, and said aloud, "You'll get to see a pretty good show, I'm sure. You all will. From all Ratiri's told me about a Hindu wedding, it's...elaborate, to say the least." Thank you. You can read my mind, you know how much I appreciate it.
"And that's the simplified version," he said. "If we actually had parents, it would be even worse."
Hugs were given all around, and even Lothiriel and Ortherion were taught with awkwardness and much laughing how to shake hands and give hugs to mortals by way of greeting or congratulations. They both managed to say 'congratulations' without making a hash of it; Earlene felt this was a rather complicated word to enunciate.
"Well, given that Allanah doesn't know the difference, consider her birthday lunch hijacked except the obligatory bunch of photos with cake," Earlene said. Honestly she thought these two would never manage to get around to this, and here they had blown her out of the water. She'd guessed two years.
Lorna laughed. "She'll be awfully mobile by then," she said. "Might want one'v those kid leashes, unless she can be made to not just crawl off when you're not looking." She ran her thumb over the ring on her left hand. She'd got used to not having one there, but wearing one again just felt...right. And of course there was Ratiri's, on his right hand, shining in the firelight...this was really happening. She tried not to grin like an idiot, and utterly failed. "Ratiri's got to get a load'v stuff shipped from Scotland, and I'd feel a lot safer storing it here, rather than my incredibly un-secured cottage. If somebody swiped his mam's bridal jewelry, I might just die."
"She'd certainly haunt us both," he said. "And we'll have to get her sari altered a bit. She was a bit taller than you, and, er, rounder."
"I will help you if there is anything I can do," offered Thanadir. He did not know what a sari was, but that wasn't about to stop him.
Lothiriel brought Allanah forward, and Lorna got out her phone, while Earlene 'helped' her open her present from Uncle Thanadir. Her little quilt was beautiful, and she promptly began to gnaw on it until Earlene gently distracted her. Next came slicing her little cake, and offering her a tiny slice on a plate. Earlene really did not want her getting a taste for sweets until after her teeth were in; kids did not need sugar and if they didn't have it, they didn't know what they were missing at all. Allanah could turn into Thanadir after she'd developed good eating habits. And Earlene also had bought her two more toy plush animals. One was a penguin and the other an unrealistically friendly looking Tyrannosaurus rex, because she had liked the other dinosaurs so much. This left Thranduil explaining dinosaurs to his subjects, while Thanadir interjected, and Earlene was simply glad that it wasn't her because the conversation vastly exceeded her creative use of vocabulary. Though, the gestures that indicated 'large monstrosity' were somewhat universal. Soon everyone had plates, and was making themselves happy while Allanah got some food actually into her mouth, keeping poor Lothiriel busy chasing the stray bits that were being flung in other directions.
Lorna was so happy it quite honestly scared her a little. Even with the fact that she was a human blimp, things were frighteningly close to perfect just now. Little Allanah was burbling happily, there was very fantastic cake, and she had two rings on her fingers. Sooner or later she and Earlene would both be divested of babies, and could actually be humans again...she leaned against Ratiri, and wondered how Mairead and Jamie were getting on. She should try to get out to the cottage to wish them a happy Christmas through email, at least, even if she couldn't call.
"Pretty soon we'll have another four'v those between us," she said, pointing at Allanah. "God help us all. That nath thing's a bit ironic, give we'll have our own kids at our wedding."
"Not really," Ratiri said. "It's like a white wedding dress. Sure, once upon a time it signified virginity, but now it's just...what many women wear. Tradition. And as mentioned, your sister will brick herself."
"Which is the only reason I'm considering doing this," Lorna said. "You want me to stab something through my nose."
"You've done far worse to yourself," he pointed out.
"Hush, you. Earlene, have you come up with any baby names yet?"
Earlene and Thranduil both had expressions of wide-eyed panic that provided an answer. After a few seconds, Earlene tried to explain. "I'm very...conflicted about wanting elven names and also wanting the girls to be able to function in the outer world without getting rude stares from everyone they meet. I know that it's a question of one elven name, one Irish name, but which should be the primary name is causing more than a little consternation."
"I had a ten-year-old patient named Unique," Ratiri said. "Trust me, in this day and age, even an Elven name likely won't get side-eyed by many. I would say make the first whichever is easier to spell phonetically, but given half the Irish names I've heard, that could be a bit of a toss-up."
"Ours'll be Shane Liam and Chandra Katherine," Lorna said. "Neither Liam nor Katherine ever got to be parents, but they'll have kids named for them. Shane's named after, well, Shane , and Chandra was a stillborn older sister'v Ratiri's. Nice and alliterative, at least."
"I love the name Chandra," said Earlene. "The telescope, and all. It's amazing."
"It was my grandmother's name, too," Ratiri said. "Thranduil, I have to ask. Lorna's only at six months and I can already tell her pelvis is too narrow to give birth to these children. Can you work with that? Because if not, we need to work out a way to get to hospital in Dublin. She's going to need a Cesarean."
Earlene looked at Ratiri with inner pity, though she allowed no emotion to show on her face; it was not her place to comment.
Thranduil replied carefully. "What care you choose to seek is your decision; I will not interfere or criticize you in any way if you prefer your own manner of intervention as a couple. But if you are asking me if I can safely deliver her children, here, the answer is yes, I can. I do not mean to sound arrogant, Ratiri, but there is no medical circumstance up to the moment of death that I am incapable of resolving."
It was intriguing, and relieving, and, from a sheer scientific viewpoint, frustrating. "How can that work, though?" he asked. "Removing mass is one thing -" and no, he was not going to mention just why he'd say that "- but adding it? How can you add bone?" It was highly unlikely Thranduil would know any of the terminology needed to answer that question, but Ratiri had to ask it anyway.
"I am not going to be able to answer your question in a manner that satisfies your curiosity, and for that I am sorry. I have neither the vocabulary or...the power of my people does not work in the manner according to which you are accustomed to thinking. You are trying to resolve two completely different frames of reference. When I care for the body of another, what needs to happen is...what happens."
"You have no idea how I wish there was some way I could quantifiably measure that," Ratiri sighed. "Well, yes you do, actually."
After they were done with their food, Allanah fell asleep in Lothiriel's arms; she and her husband were besotted with the little girl and quietly conversing. "We are going to the movie room," Earlene announced. "There is one last Christmas tradition we must experience. Lorna, do you have it ready on the computer?"
A wicked grin from Lorna caused Thranduil to groan, "Eru, the last time she looked like that was the sword fighting scene in the hotel room." This caused all around laughter, even from Ratiri who had not been there but had heard enough about it.
"Shhhhh!" said Earlene, pointing at the birthday baby while Lothiriel grinned.
They relocated, and while Lorna was setting up, Earlene turned to Thanadir, in whose lap her feet rested. "Meldir, there is a very important phrase for this movie: 'You'll shoot your eye out, kid.' Now what that means is…"
After a while Ortherion had to depart to other duties, and wondered greatly when from within one of the mortals' assigned quarters he heard a chorus of "Nadafingaaaaaaaa!" He would have to ask His Excellency, on another occasion. The mortals' language was most interesting...
