Chapter 17 - Not all girls in Middle Earth must angst

Early February, 3019 (Third Age)

Elanor sighed and planted her hands on her hips. Upon the bed before her was a haphazard pile of all of her worldly goods. Clothes, books and Elvish trinkets were all intermingled upon the blanket. Nearby was a pack, and even to her optimistic eye she was forced to acknowledge that but a small part of what she wished to take would fit within it.

Absently, she ran her hands over the liquid fabric of one of her gowns, knowing that such a luxury would not serve her on the road ahead. Reluctantly, she gathered all her dresses and returned them to the wardrobe.

I'll be back to get them one day, she promised herself, hanging the last one and turning away.

Just like you're going to see Tim and your family again?

Elanor shook herself. She had a job to do.

Her lips resolutely pressed together, Elanor selected half a dozen serviceable tunics and shirts, some leggings and breeches, and as many pairs of socks and underwear as she could gather. Her nose wrinkled as she contemplated the bath-less weeks ahead of her.

Man, it'd better be warmer in the south, because I would rather swim in a creek than repeat that trip with Boromir…

The prospect of leaving Rivendell's sanctuary was a distasteful one. Elrond's house was warm and comfortable, and Elanor smiled wistfully as she tucked a shirt into the pack. It had been several weeks since she had come to the conclusion that she couldn't stay in Imladris, and the interlude had been surprisingly enjoyable. She had liked Elladan and Elrohir more than she had dared to expect, whilst her friendship with Arwen had moved beyond the initial awkwardness. She liked the Elf-woman, finding her both light-hearted and serious in equal measure. Her happiness had not been complete, however, for with each laugh and shared understanding with Arwen, Elanor was reminded with a sharp pang of the sister she had left behind.

What would Georgia say if she saw you setting off into the wilds of Middle Earth by your own volition?

Elanor paused. She would be proud.

Placing the last of her clothes within the pack, she surveyed what space she had left. She did not know if she would have to carry provisions, but was equally sure there were some things she could not leave behind.

The remaining trinkets Elanor possessed were a clanging reminder of her two halves; of the old life that still made her chest ache, and the surreal feeling of contentment in her present existence. Her sister's books lay alongside a leather-bound journal that Elladan had given her, and the small torch she had neglected to discard beside a utilitarian knife which served as a pleasant reminder of her time spent with Legolas. Her phone was also there, though Elanor had not turned it on since she had first arrived.

As the weeks had slipped by, she had found herself clinging less desperately to her old ways, and had been startled by the willingness within to immerse herself in Rivendell.

It's all slipping away… Even the homesickness…

Would it be so bad to stay here?

She swept all of the bric-a-brac to the side a little roughly, frustrated that she had allowed herself to ask the question. She still had a week or two until Elrond would receive word from Galadriel and the Rangers would set out. Stowing her pack beneath her bed, Elanor removed the modern items from amongst the collection. The flowery case on her iPhone made her smile, so out of place amidst the medieval treasures.

On an impulse, she took it up. She knew it could well have run out of battery in the intervening months, but she held down the power button anyway. Apprehension fluttered in her stomach as she realised it had been over four months since she had seen the faces of her family.

I won't give it up… I won't let them go…

The phone chimed as it turned on, and Elanor was startled by the unfamiliar sound.

She swallowed hard.

The lock screen glowed, and caused a lump to form in her throat. She stared at the photo on the display, seeing Tim's laughing face refreshed in her mind. The greyscale memory was renewed with colour and light, and her stomach clenched.

Oh gosh…

And then the screen went dark, the battery spent at last. Elanor schooled her face to impassivity, though she watched the blank surface for a minute before she drew her eyes away.

This is my family now. My life is here.

She took a deep breath. As the last life seeped out of her iPhone, any hopes she had of returning to Australia died with it.

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back?"

There was no going back.

The laughing image of Tim fixed firmly in her mind, Elanor moved to her desk drawer and placed the phone at the back, where Indilwen would not find it.

I'm Elanor Elrondiel.

She moved to the mirror fixed on her wall, gritting her teeth against a wave of emotion.

Don't cry. For heaven's sake, don't cry.

"I am Elanor Elrondiel."

The figure in the mirror seemed to grow in stature as she spoke the fateful words, and she squared her shoulders. Instead of a feeling of crushing grief, Elanor was struck by a surge of hope, and of purpose. She longed for Tim, and for her parents, and particularly for Georgia as she stood on the brink of adventure—but she knew that she wasn't going to see them again.

"This is my home now," she said firmly, switching to Sindarin.

She dressed as an Elf, spoke as an Elf, and claimed kinship with the Elves.

Her face broke into a rueful smile.

"This is my home."

Elrohir rolled his shoulders, limbering up his hard-knit muscles. Several metres away, his brother threw back his head and laughed. The elder son of Elrond was ever given to mirth, and in this he was joined by a golden-haired young woman, seated upon the grass nearby.

Elrohir raised a dark eyebrow at the pair of them.

"Truly, Elanor, you are a bad influence," he said, fixing her with a stare of mock-disapproval. The woman grinned in response.

"And truly, I want to see you both fight!" she laughed, leaning back upon her hands expectantly. "Go on now, both of you!"

Elladan smirked at his brother, raising the light staff he carried. "Carry on then, hanar."

Elrohir grinned in response, his own staff raised and at the ready. The sons of Elrond were so alike in stature and appearance that few could tell them apart outside their own family. Their physical prowess was perfectly matched, though where Elladan favoured a sword, Elrohir would choose a longbow. In a sparring match such as this, however, victory teetered on the edge of a knife.

Vaguely conscious of Elanor's form to his right, Elrohir advanced. He moved on the balls of his feet with the practiced ease of a warrior, eyeing his brother.

Elladan's countenance split in a wide smile once more. His cheerfulness was infectious, his constant jocularity tempered by Elrohir's more realistic outlook. Many opponents had been disarmed by Elladan's easy movements, believing him to be harmless.

Elrohir's lip quirked in wry amusement. Underestimating his brother was the last thing many had done before they perished.

Deciding that they had circled long enough, Elladan leapt forward, his staff held in a two handed grip as he charged straight at his twin. With lightning swiftness, Elrohir crouched and brought his own staff up to intercept the other, throwing Elladan's momentum off course. The elder was not undone, however; he correct himself with practiced ease and swung to the right. Elrohir parried, unable to suppress his own enjoyment at the physical contest.

Inwards and outwards they wove, moving fluidly from attack to defence. The world beyond Elladan's tall form blurred into insignificance for Elrohir, his dark brow lowered as he focused on the task at hand. The sharp crack as the staffs met dimmed within his mind, both Elves moving with lightning swiftness.

Elladan blocked his brother with contemptuous ease, then released the staff with one hand. His fingers moved smoothly over the polished wood, twirling the thick instrument so it whipped in a tight circle back towards Elrohir's head.

Sevig chûr, hanar?

Elladan merely laughed at his twin's determined expression. Grinning wickedly, he dropped his staff to the ground before his feet and sprang forward, crashing bodily into his brother. His arms whipped up to contain Elrohir in a sinewy embrace.

"This is no fair contest!" cried Elrohir in a strangled voice, as he lay pinned to the grass. The staffs had been discarded in Elladan's mad rush, and that personage was carefully repositioning himself on Elrohir's chest to better restrain him.

"Luck is not on your side today, brother!" Elladan crowed, raising his arms in triumph. Elrohir took advantage of the respite to buck wildly, tossing his twin off and swiftly gaining the advantage by pinning him face-down upon the lawn.

Elanor sung out in laughter, rising and coming over to survey her foster-brothers. Her eyes were crinkled in amusement, and she folded her arms as she looked down upon them.

From his vantage point, Elrohir grinned up at her.

"You look upon the victor of this contest, good sister!"

"Indeed," Elanor cried, "though I believe you ought to release Elladan." Elrohir glanced down at his brother's back. One of his hands rested carelessly on Elladan's raven head, pressing his face into the grass. He was beginning to struggle, kicking his legs fruitlessly and emitting groans of distress.

"Do you think so?" Elrohir inquired, half reluctant to relinquish his advantage.

Elanor chuckled, and he felt a surge of appreciation for the woman's sense of mischief.

Sighing dramatically, Elrohir rolled off Elladan's back. The latter sprang up, spluttering all the while. It was quite some time before he had managed to remove all of the grass from his mouth. Elrohir sprawled contentedly upon the grass, watching the developments with a pleased expression and anticipating the flood of indignation that would follow.

Shaking her head and laughing, Elanor sat beside him, swaddled warmly in her furs.

Where the other children of Elrond were dark, his foster-sister was as fair as a sunrise. Her skin was tanned a pleasant gold, a result of growing up in her peculiar homeland. Elrohir had spent much time amongst the Dúnedain rangers, and was familiar with the appearance of human women. He could not quite comprehend their notions of beauty, though considered his sister to be not unattractive by the standards of her own race. Nevertheless, he liked her upturned nose, wide eyes and laughing mouth. She was obliging and witty, and made a welcome addition to the company in Rivendell after Lord Glorfindel's departure.

"He's going to be tasting dirt all week," Elanor murmured, drawing Elrohir's attention. She was watching Elladan's coughing with a mixture of concern and amusement. He, for his part, was busy muttering and sending baleful glances in Elrohir's direction.

"Yes," he replied, in smug satisfaction.

"You wrong me greatly," Elladan cried, fixing an ill-used expression on his face as he strode over and sat down with his brother and sister. "Lady Elanor," he pleaded, shuffling towards her and bowing in mock servitude, "protect me, if you may, for this ellon—" he waved his hand dismissively at Elrohir "—is without honour!"

Elanor laughed, a sound which to Elrohir encompassed all her light youthfulness. "You silly," she said affectionately, grasping Elladan's hand and squeezing it.

Elrohir smiled to himself, glad to observe the antics of the pair. Elanor's fleeting existence, scarcely more than two decades, was diminished by the long years that the sons of Elrond had lived—nigh on three millennia.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, plucking at the thin layer of protection which covered Elladan's arms. "I'm freezing!"

Elladan merely shrugged. "My blood runs warm from exertion, and the Eldar are hardier than the younger Children of Ilúvatar."

"You are from the south, Elanor," added Elrohir, with a sympathetic smile. He remembered too well the sense of bitterness that Aragorn had expressed at being considered lesser than his Elvish foster-brothers—even by the simple virtue of his heritage. "It is far cooler to the north."

She conceded this with a cheerful nod, tugging her warm cloak closer about her body.

At least Elanor shall remain in the company of Arwen, for ada will not see either of them come to harm. She shall always be comfortable. Estel… he would not be cosseted so.

"Shall we go inside?" Elladan suggested, noting how cold Elanor had grown with sitting in the chill air.

Elanor nodded emphatically. The Elven brothers rose as one, exchanging looks of amused understanding. Elrohir reached to help Elanor to her feet, not in the least put out to oblige her. The small party ambled slowly in the direction of the house.

"I find I cannot understand you, sister," cried Elladan, with an astonished grin. "The finest of ada's wine before you, and you will scarcely touch it!"

Elanor smiled wryly in response.

You don't know the half of it, hanar…

"I do not feel inclined to drink tonight, Elladan," she replied, taking up her goblet before he could pour anything into it. "Water shall do me well this evening."

Elladan seemed unable to grasp such a notion, before shrugging and topping up Elrohir's glass instead. Elanor marvelled at the Elvish tolerance for alcohol, though the twins were by no means excessive drinkers. Still, the potent wine they consumed would have inebriated an ordinary man in half the time.

Smiling into her tankard as she thought on a scene from The Two Towers, Elanor glanced along the seated guests to where Elrond sat beside Arwen.

The family was seated at a table which held a dozen comfortably, in a dining room separate from Elrond's study. Elanor had been positioned at one end with the twins, whilst her foster-father and sister occupied the other. In between sat several senior members of Elrond's staff—namely Erestor and Lindir—as well as several others Elanor did not know. She spent much of her time with her new family, reluctant to leave their enthusiastic embrace to mingle with strangers in stilted Sindarin.

"Anírol mass?" she directed at Elrohir, knowing that Glorfindel would scold her for her lack of practice.

Eru willing, I'll be able to test it out on him in a few weeks…

"Ma," laughed Elrohir, "Yes, I would."

"Are we returning to our native tongue, brother?" Elladan inquired, turning back from listening to Erestor speak with some of the others. His grey eyes flicked between them, and his expression held it's usual cheerfulness.

"Den iston," Elanor laughed.

"Ben iest gîn, neth."

At this, the pair broke out into a flood of Sindarin. They spoke quickly, adopting many of the colloquialisms and slang that she had yet to grasp.

"That is unfair!" cried Elanor, unable to prevent herself from chuckling nonetheless. They spoke with great animation, and from the words she managed to understand they were also uttering complete nonsense. Several of those seated further along the table turned to look at the sons of Elrond in a mixture of confusion and amusement. Lindir merely shook his head and laughed.

"Is this not what you desired, my lady?" Elladan grinned, attempting to appear astonished.

Elanor grinned back.

Having decided that they had wasted far too much time in tomfoolery, the twins fell to devouring their meal. Elanor had at first been amazed to find that the Elves were not as prim and proper at mealtimes as she had expected; they laughed as they ate, often breaking into song, and behaved like blithe children. In contrast to the Dwarves, however—she had eaten with Gimli and Glóin on more than one occasion—they were remarkably polite.

Running her gaze down the table as she savoured a slice of fresh bread, she was caught by Arwen's clear grey eyes. A slight smile graced her exquisite features, and Elanor felt her foster-sister's pleasure emanating even at a distance as she observed her family.

The Elf-woman inclined her head slightly, eyes sparkling a little, before turning back to the conversation between Elrond and another Elf.

This is as happy as you ever were at home, Elanor Ravenscroft, an inner voice reminded her smugly.

Unable to dispute such a statement, Elanor smiled in contentment.

I know.

TRANSLATIONS

hanar - brother

sevig chûr? - are you ready?

ellon - Elf-man, male Elf

anírol mass? - do you want bread?

den iston - I think so (lit. I know it)

ben iest gîn - as you wish (lit. according to your wish)

neth - sister

-iel - daughter of. (Just as "Thranduilion" means "son of Thranduil" and "Elrondion" means "son of Elrond", "Elrondiel" means "daughter of Elrond").

And there is Chapter 17.

I decided that it was time for Elanor to be lighthearted again, to interact with people merely for the sake of interacting. Plus, a lot of the scenes are full of tears and angst and difficulties, and I wanted this one to be enjoyable. (Hence the title).

Don't fear, for her adventures outside Rivendell will begin shortly. However, there is still time for her to enjoy her new life rather than rushing off like a mad thing into the wild as most heroines do.

Anyways, I hope you all liked that!

Please feel free to leave me a review, feedback is welcomed. :)

QUESTION OF THE DAY: what is your favourite non-Tolkien ship?

Personally, mine would have to be Gilbert/Anne (Anne of Green Gables) or Anita/Arutha (Magician).

Have a good day!

Finwe