Hullo and welcome to this chapter. Ah…been busy, lots of stuff happening here. Hope you like it and I hope you decide to drop a like or review (never required of course, but much appreciated.) I miss you guys. :)
Chapter 63 - Bibbiddi Bobbidi Boo
Mîrlen awoke with a yawn. The sun was just starting to shine through his shutters, so he knew it was still early. He wanted to pull the covers back over his head and return to the realm of dreaming. The past few nights he had not experienced debilitating nightmares, and was very appreciative not to wake up in a sweat-drenched post-nightmare haze. He threw back the covers, stretching with a grunt and rolling from his bed.
He could smell breakfast already, and his stomach growled in response. It had been so long since he'd had a true appetite that the ravenous nature of this small body almost surprised him. He washed his face in the cool water of the basin in his room, careful to get behind his ears and use the boar-bristle brush Cerena had gotten him to make sure his nails were clean as well. Then he dressed for the day, slipping on the soft cotton shorts Cerena had made for him to wear under his trousers. Then he slipped on one of the tunics she'd made for him and shoved his feet into his slippers and was on his way.
The breakfast table was a boisterous place. Mortals often viewed elves as lofty, wise things, and they certainly could be, but when elves were in an environment that they felt safe and open in, they were much more playful and loud.
There was sausage and eggs, and little rolls of fresh, buttered bread, plus an assortment of fruit to be had. Lord Elrond sat at the head of the table, listening as Cerena talked to him. He had a smile on his face as she spoke, his gaze reserved only for her. She was talking animatedly, a grin on her face as she spoke. Gil-Galad and Oropher sat next to each other, also in conversation. Gil-Galad was eating berries in between words, and Oropher was eating a bowl of milky porridge. The twin sons of Elrond were flicking pieces of fruit into each other's mouths, and then sometimes flicking it at Glorfindel, the warrior of Imladris, who would catch the berries without looking up from his plate and set them aside.
He rarely ever ate with any of Morgoth's other soldiers. He was above the lowly foot soldiers. Only the Balrogs were equal to him, and they didn't exactly require hard tack and beer to survive. He ate in his own quarters. He had eaten with Ar-Pharazôn and the Lords of Númenor when he had sought to turn them against the Valar. He had eaten with Celebrimbor and other elven Lords when he wore the face of Annatar. But there was always a sickly taint to those meals…an unseen film, not unlike grease, that he couldn't seem to wash out of his mouth or off of his hands.
He shook his head and walked forward, taking his seat quietly next to Cerena. The others didn't change their actions, save for Glorfindel looking up from his plate and giving him a hard stare before going back to the plain oat porridge. Mîrlen leaned his head against Cerena's side, taking strength in the warmth there. She idly rested her hand on his head, stroking her fingers down to his cheek while she finished what she was saying to Elrond.
Then she turned to him, her bright smile dispelling the dark clouds of his thoughts.
"Good morning, bright eyes," she said, before moving her hand to pat his back. "I saved you some sausage. Had I not, those two bottomless pits Elrond knows as sons would have eaten it all," she said, looking at the twins. They looked up from their shenanigans, giving identical smiles.
"But we are still young elves, yet! We are growing!" Elladan laughed. Glorfindel snorted.
"Growing sideways, maybe," he snickered into his oatmeal.
"I'll have you know that our bone structure is thicker than some elves," Elladan said with mock indignation.
"That gut isn't a bone," Glorfindel shot back easily. The twins gasped in unison.
"Of course you know this means war," Elrohir stated calmly. The corner of Glorfindel's mouth drew up.
"You haven't been able to pull one over on me in several ennin. You are welcome to keep trying, however," he responded.
"Anyway," Cerena said. She put a plate in front of Mîrlen, laden with a plump sausage, two hardboiled eggs, a medley of fruit, and two slices of a large tomato.
"Good morning, Mîrlen," Elrond said softly.
"Good morning, Lord Elrond," he replied. He saw the eyes of the ex-Kings dart to Elrond, then to him, before they looked at each other.
"Did you sleep well?" Elrond asked. Mîrlen nodded.
"I did! Thank you for asking," he said. When breakfast was through he followed Cerena to the sitting room, where she took up her spot sewing. Today she was working on one of the blankets. She'd gotten a good amount of plain yarn, and planned on dying the blankets once she got them made. Everything she'd made for the babes was in two colors: pale blue and lavender. She did not want them to be so identical at first that she could not tell them apart. They would share the same features, but they were two different souls, so she would not make their things unrecognizable.
Mîrlen was working on some theoretical potions. There were many concoctions he'd created over the years that were useful. Many he remembered the ingredients, but not the ratios. So he was making notes based on what he could remember so that he could go back one day, hopefully when he had the money and supplies, to test them out.
Elrond had taken his work from his office and was sitting on the sofa, reading through medical journals he had pulled from the library at the castle. Every so often he would hum or snort at some fact he had read.
Cerena looked at him and at then at Mîrlen, enjoying the simple domesticity of the scene, and hoping she could continue it even after the babes were born.
He watched her, every muscle in his body aching to grab her. She looked so damned amazing round with child. It made him so incredibly horny to see her like that. Again he wished he had not lost her, and that he'd had just a little longer to break her. He would have given her as many pups as she wished.
He could not see any of her guardians, which made his suspicious. She was never without an elven companion. But here she was, walking along the beggar's alley, delivering parcels of food to the hungry. Every level of this city had its beggars and infirm, save the seventh level. Or at least that's what he had heard, as he'd never been on the seventh level.
She had her hood up, trying to hide her face. Whether it was from the beggars or someone like him he could not tell. But that rounded bump and the long, luscious braid were unmistakable. He only wished there was a chance to get close…
She shook the hand of several of the beggars, before turning down one of the alleyways. His ears went up in interest, and he began to move through the crowd. He rounded into the same alleyway and saw her leaning against the wall as though to catch her breath. She was far along in pregnancy, it must be difficult to walk so long. He walked lightly, his leather boots making no audible sound on the cobble walkway.
Suddenly her shoulders stiffened, but she did not turn.
"You are a fool to have left yourself open in such a way," he said, his voice low and gravelly.
"It's not me that's the fool,"
A ball of ice descended into his gut as she turned. It wasn't Cerena. She bore a similarity, brown-skinned with yellow eyes, but up close he could see his folly. It was also then he knew he'd been had.
He turned to flee and was met with three elves. The identical ones, the same ones that had stolen Cerena right out from under his nose, stood in his way, as well as the golden-haired elf that also accompanied Cerena on her walks. He sneered.
"Well, if it isn't the girl's fucking entourage," he growled.
"We were told by the orc-king to attempt to take you alive, but that it wasn't necessary," the golden elf said.
He charged, a furious shriek on his lips. The elves had their blades in the blink of an eye and met him head on. He was weakened by hardships in the wild, and slightly out of practice due to being in this area. He dodged a swipe from one of the younger elves and turned to dodge the golden elf. The blade did not enter his side, but sliced deeply into his arm. With a roar he swung his arm at the last elf. The elf moved back, denying him a blow to his face, but the black claws bit into the front of his tunic and sliced down, opening four large cuts down the elf's torso. The sound of his cry was intoxicating, but the next moment his world flipped violently and he knew no more.
The orc's head spun away from his body and the the corpse fell, blood spraying the feet of all three elves.
Elladan fell back, clutching at his front and the burning claw marks. His brother grabbed him, pushing aside his hands to see the severity of the wounds. They were deep but not deadly and would not require stitches. They would need to be cleaned and covered, however.
"Here now! What's going on?" A guard had been summoned by the commotion, and pulled up short at the sight of the injured elf and headless corpse.
"This should explain everything," said the she-orc, emerging from the shadows. She held forward a piece of folded parchment, sealed with the Steward's seal. The guard took it, breaking the seal and opening the fold. The she-orc dropped her cloak off of her shoulders and began to take off her tunic, revealing a padded sack tied to her front to look like a pregnant belly, over another tunic. "That damned thing was heavy," she growled, untying the knots that held it in place.
"Thank you for your help, Ro," Elladan said, wincing as the claw marks pulled.
"Come on, elf. Let us deliver the good news to your father and collect my coin," she said, wagging her eyebrows.
"Go. I will stay here and finish up the business of this orc," Glorfindel said, knowing that where Elladan went Elrohir would be desperate to follow.
Cerena sobbed in relief at the news, but was soon troubled.
"What of the elf?" she asked.
"Boromir is going to ask around and see if anyone in the lower levels saw him, and try to find out how he got onto this level. We knew it was only a matter of time before he slithered up this way. I'm only glad that it did not take long for him to fall for the trap we set," Elrond assured her. She snuggled deeper into his embrace, trying to relax. It was difficult to do so, despite the huge relief that Akashagon's death had brought her. It was almost anticlimactic, in a way, but she was glad that she hadn't had to deal with him herself.
The plan had come from Boromir, to use Ro as a decoy and try to get Akashagon to play his hand. For the last week, she had tied a sack of cloth around her middle and delivered loafs of bread to the beggars, something that Cerena certainly would have done if she could still walk out there. It had been nerve wracking to wait and see if he decided to move against her.
She was sad that Elladan had been hurt, but he assured her that he would wear the marks with honor if it meant keeping her and his sisters safe.
Cerena's mixed anxiety and relief were wreaking havoc on her hormones, and she couldn't decide whether she wanted to cry in a corner or jump Elrond's bones. She finally decided that if her body were going to be so confused, she may as well go with the more enjoyable choice.
"Elrond…" Cerena murmured, her voice muffled slightly in his robes.
"What bothers you, my love?" he asked, trailing his fingers up her back.
"I…I need you," she replied, feeling a little embarrassed. His fingers traced idly from her back to her shoulders, going along the line of her neck and up to her ears.
"Need me for what, love?" he asked with a mask of innocence, even though Cerena figured he knew diddly darn well what she meant.
"I need to feel you inside of me," she whimpered, digging the tips of her claws into his side. He jumped at the prickling feeling of her nails through the cloth of his tunic.
"Aya, Cerena, stop sticking me with those needles," he grumbled, before running his fingers over the delicate tips of her ears in retribution. She gave a gutteral moan as she felt the liquid pleasure shoot through her. "Did you like that?" he asked.
"Can we be wild once more before I'm not flexible enough?" Cerena asked. Elrond hummed softly.
"I do not think I would feel comfortable treating you roughly," he said honestly. Cerena was a little disappointed, but understood.
"Then let us discontinue words and simply be together for a while," she said.
He obliged her, and they were not seen by the household until supper, where they were met with a petulant Mîrlen.
"I had to spend all day with double trouble while you two knocked boots!" he whinged. When given a look from Cerena the twins simply gave her identical grins.
"Don't say it like that, Mîrlen, you make it sound like he's just some elf I molest in the dark," Cerena said. Mîrlen pulled a face. "Although playing strangers could be a fun game," she said, waggling her eyebrows at Elrond. His cheeks went a bit pink but he replied with a mild cough.
"Preposterous," he grumbled, but Cerena noticed he didn't say no.
"Appa!"
Durbûrz turned with a grin as he saw his prince, scrubbed clean and looking as a sharp ambassador for their kingdom. The orc king threw open his arms and the prince rushed into his embrace, and many people wondered at the genuine show of love between the father and son.
They had arrived with the retinue of elves that came with the new queen of Gondor. He had watched them from the crowd that stood on the highest level, near to Cerena and Elrond. After the public kiss of the new King and Queen most of their group had disappeared inside for what was likely to be a raucous party of men and elves. He might be interested in joining them later, but for the moment he wished only to greet his son.
"Is the Great Thief cast down?" Visht asked. Durbûrz finally pulled back, resting his hand on Visht's shoulder.
"Aye, my lad. Victory belongs to Gondor, and so to us as well," he said. Visht cheered. Durbûrz looked up as Edledhia approached, and he looked her over hungrily in her dress of pale green.
"It is good to see you, elf-child," he said amicably, remembering the pleasurable evening he had spent in her bed before he had departed Rivendell.
"Do you remember what we discussed before you left?" Edledhia asked. Durbûrz stood straight, his hand moving to Visht's head.
"I remember," he said quietly.
"It has come to pass," Edledhia said, looking nervous. But Durbûrz' dark brows drew up in surprise.
"Has it truly? You bear no falsehood?" he asked. Edledhia frowned.
"I would do no such thing," she said. Durbûrz moved forward, taking her face in his hands. She looked up, crystal blue eyes twinkling merrily in the lamplight. She had the eyes of her mother, elven eyes, and they sparkled more brillantly than the most polished sapphire.
"You are with child?" he asked bluntly. She smiled at him, and he whooped loudly, leaning forward and stealing a kiss that made her knees weak. Then he lifted her clean off her feet and twirled her. "This is amazing! Oh! I shouldn't spin you so!" he said, and put her down. He had not been expecting such amazing news! He had been aware of the possibility, he couldn't deny that…but for it to happen…oh, Eru almighty must finally be smiling on his people.
"It is early, yet," Edledhia laughed.
"Who knows?" Durbûrz asked.
"Grandmother and grandfather know. I believe grandmother told Arwen. She kept looking at me with a goofy grin. I haven't told…" her eyes darted to where Visht stood. Visht looked at them both, not really understanding what they were talking about.
"Tell me what?" he asked.
"Is everything as it should be?"
Durbûrz got his first good glimpse of Galadriel. She was tall and beautiful in an unapproachable way, and he could feel the power of her Ring wafting away from her. In her arms was an orc-child, one of the Isengard brats, with brown skin and cat-green eyes. The little girl's hair was in two tails that were tied with sparkling ribbons that matched her pale blue dress. Her feet were in fine leather shoes, tied carefully to keep them on her feet. At the lady's side walked a dark-haired elfling, looking up at him with open curiosity and amazement.
"It is more than it should be, everything is….is perfect," Durbûrz answered honestly. A smile transformed Galadriel's face into something much softer.
"Good," she said simply, and walked away. Durbûrz looked at Edledhia, then at his son.
"Come, let us talk," he said, and reached out a hand to her. She put her hand in his, and Visht, unprompted, put his hand in Durbûrz' other, and the three walked away from the party going on currently, to find a private place to talk.
The celebrations for the King and Queen went long into the night, before the couple in question finally retired.
Elrond walked beside Durbûrz, a tight knot in his stomach as they approached the store. Cerena was with the twins, as well as Gil-Galad and Oropher. He and Glorfindel had accompanied the Orc King to retrieve the elf prisoner. Akashagon had been killed before he could be questioned on the location of the elf, so they had sent out a plea for information. Several people had come forward and admitted to seeing the elf, but had not reported anything because he had seemed to be in good hands with his 'orc companion.' It was the next day that they received information on his whereabouts, the day after the King and Queen had given their vows and been wed to each other.
"Old Braigon said he'd been housing the two in his basement for several weeks. The orc had seemed mild mannered and had not caused any trouble. He said he sold them food for cheap because the elf was, in his words, a 'walking corpse,'" said Boromir, who was accompanying them personally. There was work that could be done, but he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't deathly curious as to what creature could last nearly a hundred years of torture in Sauron's dungeons.
Braigon met them at the mouth of the alley, wringing his hands and looking miserable.
"Lord Steward, I didn't have any idea the orc was a trouble maker. He didn't cause no problems while he was here. I rarely heard a peep out of him. And the elf, the poor thing…always quiet, always shaking like a leaf…" the old man said.
"Peace, Braigon. You were not the only one to be fooled by that orc. You thought you were being hospitable to visitors of the city. No one can fault you for that," Boromir soothed the old man. Braigon seemed relieved.
"Yes, lord. I'd heard what some of the tall orcs did for the city and I just wanted to help. If there was any damages he caused I'll be happy to to try and help pay for them," he offered.
"I'll look into it. Now, is the elf still here?" Boromir asked.
"Aye, I looked in on him this morning before you got here. He just sits in the corner and shakes," Braigon said.
He used his key to open the door. The room was dark, and Braigon made a sound of annoyance.
"Oh, the poor thing. The lamp must have gone out. You've been in the dark, haven't you? Give me a moment, Lords, and I'll find where I put the lamp."
They saw him enter the room and fumble for the lantern. Elrond and Glorfindel were peering into the dark room, but they could not see anything from their angle. Then there was a few sparks as the man struggled with a flint and steel, before the room finally lit up with the power of a lantern. "There you are. Why didn't you start the lamp back up, friend? He's here, my Lords. That's right, help's here," Braigon said.
Elrond stepped first into the room, looking to where Braigon's face had been tilted. The elf was cowering in the corner, swallowed in clothes that were too big but too short. He had his arm over his face in a protective gesture, his entire body quivering as though he was cold.
"I remember the orc saying he didn't respond to any elf-words he knew, if that's any help," Braigon said, holding up the lamp. Elrond tilted his head at the figure. The most widely known elf language at the time was Sindarin. There were quite a few people in Minas Tirith, and throughout Gondor who knew at least a smattering of the language. So if he didn't speak Sindarin…
"Speak you the high tongue?" Elrond asked in Quenyan. The elf stopped quivering and slowly lowered his arm. Elrond was shocked at the face, gaunt as a corpse and one eye dead and gray. One of his ears had lost its delicate point, either cut or chewed down to a ragged stump. His mouth was drawn away from his teeth, revealing that half of his mouth was bald gum. Even still, the good eye was alight with recognition.
"Elerrondo?"
Elrond made a noise that was a cross between a gasp and a choked off cry. There was only a single elf in all of Creation that had ever called him that name, that strange bastardization of his name into Quenyan. And he was not the wretched, wasted, pathetic thing that cowered before them. Elrond felt bile rise in his mouth at what suffering must have caused him to be in such a condition.
"Ma…Makalaurë," Elrond whispered.
"Remember?" the elf asked, his voice creaking from disuse, and lisping from his missing teeth. Elrond's brows drew together. He went down on one knee beside the once mighty elf.
"Makalaurë, do you know who I am?" he asked. The elf smiled, a macabre death-grin that drew his shrunken lips further away from the teeth he still had.
"Little Elerrondo. Grown, now. Not so little. Not so little. Elerrondo has brought light. Darkness means orcs. No more orcs, too many orcs. Hurt, they bite! I…I deserve it!" and he burst into tears. Elrond had no words. His breath was caught in his chest to see the ruin brought to this elf's mind. He was speaking nonsense. "Red…red…where has the red one gone?" Makalaurë sobbed.
"Maitimo passed the circles of the world," Elrond finally choked. The elf shook his head.
"No, no. Red one, yellow eyes, swing a switch like father," Makalaurë sniffed. A sob choked its way out of Elrond's mouth.
"You have been mistreated, Makalaurë. You are safe now, do not fear," he said, reaching out and gently touching the shaved hair of the elf.
"Safe, safe…never safe. They wait…then they come…they bite…they bite," Makalaurë sobbed. "They bite and scratch, but I…deserve…?"
"What is going on?" Boromir asked quietly to Glorfindel.
"The elf is known to Elrond," Glorfindel said, but would offer no more information. To say he was not a friend of this elf would have been an understatement, but he would not have wished this sort of torture on even the elf's father.
"Lord Elrond, the entirety of the healing halls of Minas Tirith are yours to use for this elf," Boromir said. Elrond looked up at him, and Boromir was shaken to see the tears, and the stark look of heartbreak on the elf's face.
"I thank you, Steward Boromir," Elrond said quietly.
Cerena was exhausted. The last few days had been such a whirlwind that she was almost looking forward to a weekend of nothing before the big day. Her feet hurt, her ankles hurt, her knees hurt, and she was getting tired of hauling her own self around. Her back had ached the last few days from every effort she made to move, and she'd been having cramps that gave her pause until they passed. Elrond was still tending to her as best he could, his time split between her and the recovered elf, so she did not bother him with every single ache or pains she had. Cerena did not mind that Elrond was busy, she only wished that she could help the poor elf as well.
Makalaurë. Or, as he had been called in Sindarin, Maglor. The last son of Fëanor that had been presumed dead or wandering had been the last prisoner in the dungeons of Barad Dûr. He had been tortured for several decades, his body and flagging spirit broken beyond reasonable repair. His mind was fractured, almost child-like save for a concerning habit of trying to present himself to those he felt he had upset. Cerena had only seen him once, when he had been brought briefly to their house before Elrond had taken him to the halls of healing. Maglor had been terrified of her on sight, and it had been an uncomfortable experience. She was used to the mild fear of ignorance, the anger and hatred for those who had no kindness to spare for her race, but she was unused to the stark terror she had seen in his eyes. She was reminded of the night she had spent in the dungeon of the Dark Lord, and the torture she had heard him endure.
She was almost disappointed that he was so scared of her. She would have liked to talk to him. A son of Fëanor, in the flesh. That would have been some interesting conversations.
She was incredibly hungry at the moment. She had shoved her swollen feet into her felt slippers and walked painfully down the stairs. Elrond had instructed her to call for someone, but she hated being cooped up in bed all day with no one to speak to, and it would be weird for her friends to crowd her bedroom…
"You are a stubborn thing, aren't you?" she heard Glorfindel's voice rumble. She turned slightly to see him standing in the kitchen, watching her with mild amusement.
"I have been a traveler for the last several years, Lord Glorfindel. Being cooped up in a bedroom makes me want to gnaw my own hand off," she replied smoothly.
"I suppose Elrond would not have been drawn to you if you were a delicate flower," the golden warrior added. Cerena gave him a strange look. It was almost a compliment, if one squinted and turned their head sideways.
"Would you like some tea? I'm in a perpetual state of hunger and thirst at the moment," she said.
"I will take tea with you," Glorfindel said, surprising Cerena. She put on the water to boil, and then went about looking for something to eat. There was some slightly stale bread from yesterday's meal, so she warmed it slightly to soften it and made herself the closest approximation to a grilled cheese sandwich she could muster, then cut and salted a few fresh cucumbers to go with it. She poured two cups of water over the loose tea. Elrond had blended it himself, and it was a nice dark tea that went well with food. She served Glorfindel's tea to him at the servant's table in the kitchen, and she sat at the other seat.
"How is Maglor?" Cerena asked, eating a slice of cucumber. Glorfindel stared down into his cup.
"He is not whole. He barely remembers his own name, much less his…ah…rich history. He only knows he's done something wrong and deserved his punishment, but can no longer remember why. Elrond assumes it is from too many blows to the head. Elves are resilient but not impervious to such things," he replied.
"That's terrible. Elrond won't really talk to me about it. I think he's taking it very hard. I wish there was something I could do to ease his burden," Cerena added. Glorfindel looked up from his tea, catching her eyes.
"When we first met I hated you on sight. I had to physically restrain myself from slitting your throat. When I found out that Lord Elrond had feelings for you…I…was sorely tempted to give up my post and return to Valinor," he said honestly. "But when I saw…how much you actually meant to him…. When he speaks of you his entire demeanor changes. He was as a dead man returned to life, and even if it meant accepting an orc, I knew the moment I saw his smile that I would have to accept you,"
"I didn't seek to fall in love again so soon. I felt like it was betraying Stargush's memory. But…I…couldn't help it. His smile, his spirit, his strength…they were like a flame and I was a moth, drawn helplessly to its warmth. I will not lie and say that I wasn't also attracted to his appearance. Elves are handsome creatures, after all," Cerena admitted, a small smile coming to her face.
"Do you realize what is going to happen if you return to Imladris?" GLorfindel asked. Cerena's smile faded. She did not miss the way he said 'if.'
"I will be Elrond's wife. I already am in the ways that count," she said. Glorfindel nodded.
"Aye, Lord Elrond's wife, and Lady of Imladris. That's you, now. You hold that position. Have you realized?" he asked. Cerena's eyes widened. She hadn't. She had been so consumed with just trying to get through the birth of the babies that she had not much thought about what the future might hold afterwards.
"I have not," she said honestly. He nodded.
"I know you are concerned about the present, and what may happen. I just want you to realize that if you return with your Lord Husband, you will be the Lady of Rivendell, so long as you live," he told her.
"I can never be a Lady like Celebrían-,"
"Of that there is no doubt. You will never be anything like she was. But I am slowly…learning…that this is not such a terrible thing. You are different. Annoying at times…you have a foul mouth that I could do without…but your loyalty and kindness is vast. Elrond spoke of your adventures, of the way you defend those who have no hope of defending themselves. He spoke of it with open reverence and admiration. You are, without a doubt, the most confusing creature I've ever had the pleasure of meeting," he said.
"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel," Cerena said. She was feeling very hormonal, and was trying to swallow tears. She was honored that the ferocious warrior of Imladris had such a positive view of her, when he at first had wanted nothing more than to kill her on sight.
"Lady, I think, all things considered, that you may use my first name without the honorific," Glorfindel said, taking a sip of his tea. She gave him a watery smile.
"Would you like a piece of sandwich, Glorfindel?" Cerena asked, offering the plate. He reached over and picked up half of the sandwich.
The two enjoyed a short meal in silence, and after the food and tea were polished off, Glorfindel offered his arm to Cerena to escort her where she wanted to go, and she led him to the garden to sit in the sunshine while she could still walk there.
She sat in their room, her dress half on, staring despondently at the pile of jewels that were supposed to go in her hair. She was tired, and her back hurt, and she kept cramping up at inconvenient times. She was supposed to be getting ready for their celebration tonight, but she could barely find the energy to function.
A knock at the door startled her.
"You were the one who wanted to stay apart for the day," Cerena said, mildly annoyed.
"And risk you showing up half nude?"
She spun towards the door to see Edledhia standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. And behind her,-
"Lady Galadriel! Edledhia! What are you doing here?" she asked. Edledhia stepped into the room, her grandmother gliding in behind her.
"We are here to ensure that you are a vision to behold to your groom," Galadriel said kindly. Cerena flushed.
"You don't have to do that…" Cerena said, tears in her eyes. The Lady of Light moved towards her, reaching forward and resting a hand on her curly hair.
"Your mother is not available to you. If you are amenable, I will help you prepare in her stead," Galadriel said gently. Cerena began to sniffle immediately. She had been thinking of her parents lately. She'd thought about how they would miss her wedding, how they would not be able to see their own grandchildren. She missed them. They'd missed so many years…
The Lady's soft hand stroked her cheek and Cerena began to cry in earnest. She was allowed several moments to cry before a soft kerchief was pressed into her hands. It took a few moments more for her to collect herself. Then, the two women became a whirlwind, helping her into her dress and braiding her hair. Edledhia dusted kohl dust into her eyelashes and carefully painted a deep red stain onto her lips.
Galadriel gently clipped the jewels into her dark hair.
"Such a lovely texture," Galadriel commented.
"It's not as pretty as yours," Cerena deflected, a little embarrassed. Galadriel laughed softly.
"Our hair is very different. But that does not mean that I cannot complement yours," she replied, pulling some hair into a braid to keep it off of Cerena's face. Cerena sighed softly. A thought crossed her mind.
"Have you been to see…" she trailed off, not sure how to really breech the subject. Galadriel paused in the middle of a braid.
"I have. He knew my face but not from where," she said, and did not speak more. Cerena did not press the issue. "Do not dwell on him this day. He is now warm and safe, and today is to be a focus of joy. Thank you for your concern for him, it pleases me to witness your kindness," Galadriel confessed.
Finally Cerena stood, her dress falling around her in artistic folds. The light blue of the material contrasted beautifully with the brown of her skin. Edledhia had placed her crescent circlet on her brow, twirling a few loose curls around her finger to rest against her face. The dress draped over her pregnant belly, accentuating her condition in a flattering way. Cerena felt it was almost like her own Cinderella transformation, blue dress and all.
"You look amazing," Edledhia told her, circling her to make sure her ribbons and lacings were tied correctly.
"Oh! My necklace," Cerena said, moving to her nightstand and plucking up the simple pewter pendant that Mîrlen had made for her. She tied it around her neck, allowing the small pendant to hang at the hollow of her throat.
"Isn't that your standard? Who made that for you?" Edledhia asked conversationally. Cerena paused.
"His name is Mîrlen. He is an orphan that Elrond and I have taken in. He was rescued from Mordor," Cerena said. None of what she spoke was untrue.
I know who the boy was. I have seen him. He fell to his knees and cried at my feet, begging for forgiveness.
The voice echoed just in her ear, like someone was whispering to her. She looked at Galadriel, a worried look on her face.
I have seen him. The voice repeated, and Galadriel shifted her hand with purpose. Cerena saw a simple bracelet around her wrist, made of braided leather cord with a bit of silver wire twisted into a flower pendant. He once sought to impress those of influence with priceless gifts. I refused him, for I could see the darkness in his heart and intent. This gift was given in earnest, and I accepted it.
Cerena in her mind's eye saw a flash of the scene. Mîrlen stood in front of Galadriel, tears on his face as he held out the little bracelet. She saw Celeborn move as though to strike him, and Mîrlen flinched, but Galadriel held up her hand. She took the bracelet from his hand and reached forward, stroking her hand over his face. Cerena blinked and the vision was gone.
Galadriel could see into the hearts of the living. She could see their intent. It had made her suspicious of Mairon's guise as Annatar, though her warnings had not been heeded at the time. She could now clearly see and judge the intents of his return as Mîrlen, and give an honest judgement about what she saw. The fact that she had accepted his gift made it clear that she passed no judgement over what he had been before. Cerena smiled.
"I like your bracelet," she said quietly. Galadriel smiled in return, gazing at the simple little bauble as though she were just paying attention to it.
"It was given to me by a lovely little boy."
Elrond sighed, tugging at the collar of the formal robes he was wearing. His hair had been brushed til it shone like silk, with beads clipped into the artful braids that kept his hair from blowing into his face. He was holding a cup of fresh wine, taking a sip every so often to steel his nerves. Aragorn was there, also holding a goblet of wine. He was going to be the one to declare them wed under the laws of Gondor. It was all for show, anyway, an excuse to have a party with their friends.
What he hadn't been expecting was Lord Celeborn to volunteer to acknowledge their relationship under the laws of Elves. Of course, elves didn't really have weddings like humans did. They often found their mate, had a time of courtship, made a formal engagement, and simply had a big party to declare their union. Perhaps it wasn't so different after all…
The Fellowhip was all present, all scrubbed up clean and speaking among themselves. They had not really had a chance to do so, each caught up in different things going about the city. Gimli, the dwarf, at some point made his way to Elrond, holding a goblet of wine.
"I must admit, we were all quite surprised to find out that it was you who was our Cerena's dear one," he said. Elrond gave him an indulgent smile.
"I must admit it took me by surprise when I found myself quite smitten with her," he admitted.
"She is something. Were she a dwarf she would have her pick of husbands!" he laughed. Elrond was sure it was meant as a compliment, but he bristled a bit.
"Friend Gimli, Cerena is no dwarf, her face is too bare. As it is, I am sure Lord Elrond is glad she reaches a bit higher, eh?" Legolas' teasing voice came from behind Gimli. The dwarf turned, his face flushed a bit.
"Ah, I'll have none of this looking down on me just because you're more vertically over burdened," Gimli replied sharply. Legolas smiled cheerfully.
"It is so wonderful to keep celebrating life and love," Legolas said, laughing brightly. The moment was saved, and Elrond was thankful for Legolas' youthful exuberance.
They were in a large room that Boromir had given up for them to use for this celebration. It was large and spacious, staffed with several waiters with carafes of fragrant wine and cool water. A buffet table spread out across one wall, filled with delectable treats. The Hobbits were there, filling their plates excitedly. Two musicians played their instruments, one a violin and the other a flute, the soft notes adding a dignified background to the whole affair.
"It will not be long. Galadriel will make sure she is a vision for you," Celeborn said kindly.
"She is always a vision," Elrond replied, trying not to look or feel like a fidgeting elfling. Celeborn simply smiled at the elf as he kept watching the door. He perked up when Edledhia entered, watching intently. The girl went immediately to Durbûrz, who gave her a grin as he looked her over. After a moment Galadriel glided into the room, followed shortly by Cerena.
The blue dress was amazing, and it couldn't have been worn by anyone else but Cerena. The color accented her skin, the draping of the fabric laying over her pregnant belly in a way that accentuated and flattered all at once. The bodice was tastefully low, revealing just enough of her bosom to be saucy but not enough to be scandelous. Her hair had been braided away from her face and the curls sparkled with jewels, making her hair like the night sky.
Galadriel led her to Elrond.
"I present your bride, to be celebrated by you this day," she said, taking Cerena's hand and placing it in Elrond's.
Aragorn spoke first.
"You are already bound to each other, both in body and spirit, but today we are gathered to formally recognize your union in the laws of Men. As the King of the realm of Gondor my word is law, and I say that you are wed. You have fought for each other, and will remain at each other's side as long as you live. Do you agree?" Aragorn asked.
"I do," Elrond said.
"I do," Cerena added.
"Then what has come together no creature can tear asunder. You are man and wife," Aragorn said. Then he stepped aside and Celeborn stepped before them.
"You have come together, and in one flesh you have been blessed with life from our father, creator of all. You represent together the end of an era of hatred and bitterness, the beginning of an age of love and compassion. Cerena, your kindness has moved mountains. You have forged your name in the steel of your own resolve. You fought for those who could not fight for themselves. Elrond, your steadfastness has endured the test of time. You were once a warrior,and when you laid down your sword-belt you took up a healer's smock. You opened a home to the homeless, and provided a father to many fatherless. Together you are now one, each a piece of the other. Your tears are shared, your laughter is shared. Your home is each other, and as Lord of the Golden Wood I say you are wed," he said.
Cerena was looking at Elrond, a beaming smile on her face that did not fade even as tears sparkled on her lashes. He, too, could not suppress the smile as he held her hand.
They were both surprised when Durbûrz stepped forward.
"It was not so very long ago that our people were lost to history. Though we are still small in number, we have grown in renown. This would not have been possible had it not been for single she-orc. Cerena, you saved my son from the machinations of others, and so cast a stone into the water that sent ripples all over the world. Your heart, your blade, and your actions have not only brought glory to our people, but they have created a relationship that has never been seen in the history of Arda. Our people were enemies, and the elves knew no other orc than that of an enemy. You proved Ages of preconceived notions wrong. You, an orc, a woman, have made yourself known across the far reaches of the world. You caught the eye of an elf, and he won your heart. You are a Lady of the Crescent Valley, an ambassador for my kingdom. I know you do not need my permission, nor my blessing, but I give them both willingly. I wish nothing but happiness for both of you," Durbûrz said, grinning and showing his fangs.
"Seal you now this formal union with a kiss," Aragorn prompted. Cerena laughed exuberantly and Elrond leaned forward, catching her lips in a kiss that lasted only a little too long, before the Hobbits whooped suggestively and they separated.
The rest of the day was filled with food, music and laughter, and Cerena was exhausted by the time they returned home. She'd had every intention of jumping Elrond the moment they returned to their rooms, but the moment she laid down after removing all of her party attire she was out. She awoke later in the night, Elrond curled comfortingly behind her, his hand resting on her belly. She wiggled back a little into the comforting embrace and fell back into a warm, dreamless sleep that lasted several hours before she awoke in the night.
At first she was not quite sure what had woken her. Perhaps another cramp? She shifted slightly and frowned. She shifted her blanket and reached down beneath her, touching the sheets. They were wet. What could possibly-
Oh. Oh no.
Elrond was not in the bed. It was likely one of the nights that he simply did not sleep, and he had chosen to shift himself elsewhere while she slept. She threw back the covers and moved her legs over the edge of the bed. Indeed, a large puddle stain was where she had just been laying. She pushed her feet into her woolen slippers and reached for her robe, almost not getting it tied because her hands had begun to shake.
She moved slowly, not wanting to hurt herself in the dark. She made it to the stairs and took them with the same careful precision. Eru forbid she made it this far only to fall down the damned stairs. She went first for Elrond's study, the library, and was immediately rewarded by the sight of him sitting in his chair by the winder, reading by the moonlight.
"Elrond," she said. He looked up, a smile flashing on his face before he saw the distressed look on hers.
"Cerena, what is it?" he asked.
"My water broke," she said, trying to keep the nervous warble out of her voice. He closed his book and stood.
"We need to move you to the birthing room," he said. "Wait but a moment and I will grab your things, and send the boys for Ro," Elrond said. Cerena nodded as Elrond moved walk past her. He paused and reached forward, laying his hand on her face. "Everything will be alright, love. I promise," he added, before moving up the stairs.
It was only a few minutes before the house was a flurry of activity. Elrond had retrieved the bag that they had packed along the last several weeks, filled with clothes for the babes and the supplies that newborns would need. Elladan went for Ro, who was to stand in as an orcish midwife to Cerena. Her skill in healing had been part of what saved Boromir from his poisoned arrow wounds at Amon Hen. Gil-Galad and Oropher stayed at the house with instructions to bring Mîrlen when he awoke, and Glorfindel promised Cerena he wouldn't let Gil-Galad murder the boy while she was gone.
Elrond led Cerena to the Hall of Healing, supporting her as they walked slowly. It was very early in the morning, so they met few people other than the patrolling guards who wished them luck on their way. There was a handmaiden seeing to the doors who immediately bustled off to fetch the matron of the birthing wards. Elrond felt a bit of trepidation when she showed, when he realized the matron was the woman he'd seen in his original vision.
"Come now, love, let us see you to a room," she said, making to receive Cerena from Elrond. He shifted his body so that the woman was blocked from Cerena.
"I do not leave her side," he said simply. The matron frowned.
"It isn't for a man to be here," she argued. "War is the providence of Men, and birthing is a woman's affair, be she orc or otherwise,"
"I do not think you understand. I will no more leave her side than you could convince the sun to go backwards," Elrond replied, a glint in his eyes.
"You are not allowed in this hall!" the matron insisted.
"I am not under your dominion, woman. If you think you think you can strong arm me out of this hall, you may try, but I assure you it will be a mistake you will live to regret," Elrond said harshly. The woman gasped and recoiled, but frowned.
"This is…unheard of…" she said.
"Perhaps in the realm of humans. Elf men sit with their wives often during birth, it is a bonding experience for them all," Elrond answered, his voice still sharp. The matron turned and motioned for them to follow. They were led down a long hallway, with several birthing rooms lining each side, as well as storage for supplies, and a common area with rockers and a cozy fireplace, likely for women who had been stuck in the birthing ward for several days to move with their babes. It was surprisingly cozy and clean.
"Now, you're looking heavy with babe. Are you at the end of your days?" the matron asked Cerena conversationally. She was notably ignoring Elrond now.
"I'm having twins. They're a mite early," Cerena said. "I just passed my water, so we headed here. I've got an orc midwife coming to help oversee the births,"
"Orc midwife? What a concept," the matron said, and Cerena felt a little offended on Ro's behalf.
"It was Steward Boromir who recommended her to us. She was one of the healers who saved his life when he was injured in the wilds," Cerena said. The matron did not reply, and Cerena got the impression she felt she'd put her foot in her mouth. Good.
The room she was led to was not large, but it was comfortable nonetheless. A bed for her to rest, with a sturdy straight footboard.
"What is this?" Cerena asked, touching the footboard. It was unlike anything she'd seen so far.
"We do not squat in the fields like our ancestors used to, but the kneeling position is quite healthy to deliver in. The board makes a good handhold for bearing down," the woman said matter-of-factly. Cerena felt her lip quiver, but simply distracted herself with a small cough.
Elrond helped her onto the bed, and the matron made sure she was comfortable before bustling out of the room. Then Elrond set aside her bag, sighing softly.
"Now is the time for patience, Cerena," he said.
"When will I start contracting?" she asked nervously. Elrond hummed.
"I'm surprised you haven't already. Usually there are mild contractions before the water leaks, as your body shifts the babes into position," he added. He saw her cheeks go dark. "What is it?"
"I've been having some cramps…" she said. Elrond frowned, but then shook his head.
"Nothing to do for it now, love. You are in the healing halls, with me, and Ro will be here soon. We will make sure you are well monitored," Elrond said. Cerena felt a little embarrassed that she hadn't told Elrond what was going on. But he was right, it was a moot point. She sighed, adjusting herself in the small bed. Elrond paced the room, hands behind his back.
Now they played the waiting game.
A/N: Whew. What a ride. They are finally officially 'married,' even though they basically already were. Again, it was just an excuse for it to be officially recognized. A party for their friends.
Akashagon got what was coming to him. I wanted to make him suffer, and I had a scene written out where he did lure Cerena out, but it just felt so out of place simply because they knew he was in the city and everyone was super paranoid about it. Anything fishy would have set off everyone's sensors. So he was the one who got tricked.
Our mystery elf is finally revealed. A lot of you had already guessed who it was. Maglor, the final son of Fëanor on this side of Valinor. Maglor was the Sindarin 'version' of his name. Makalaurë was his mother-name (remember some elves have, like, seventeen names. Mother-name, father-name, epessë, pet-name, character titles, etc. Eru forbid anybody get one name.) Using the translation of Elrond's name, Elerrondo is actually a decent approximation of what his name might sound like in Quenyan. There is no official statement saying that he actually had any other name like that, but I thought it was appropriate. It would certainly have been the quickest way for Elrond to recognize the elf short of feeling his aura.
Um, Galadriel is Maglor's cousin. They are the last surviving grandchildren of Finwë this side of Valinor, and my god is that whole family tree a complicated mess. And so many of them died tragically.
Yes, I kinda copped out giving Maglor the amnesia from blows to the head. It basically means I don't have to deal with his past. However, the balance is that I have to deal with the very real trauma he faced, including traumatic brain injuries resulting in memory loss, severe PTSD, Pavlovian type training that will have to be undone, and the like. We'll just have to see how it goes. I really wanted to write the reunion of Galadriel and Maglor, but didn't really know where to put it. Let me know if you guys would like to read it and I'll just put it as an author's note in the next chappie. :)
And now, at last, the babes are coming. Everything is coming to a head, now. We will see how everything goes. I do not have the experience of giving birth, so any of my information comes from second-hand knowledge and google searches. I do know that every experience is different, so if you *have* given birth and Cerena's experience is slightly different, that does not necessarily mean what I wrote is wrong. However, if anyone sees any blaring mistakes that I have made, feel free to tell me in a review, or even just send me a PM. Thanks, and I hope to hear from you guys.