Chapter 47 - News

October 27th, 3020

Elanor pulled her shawl tighter and walked briskly down the path. It was unseasonably cold for a Rivendell autumn, and movement served to warm her blood somewhat. Besides that, she was possessed with a restless nervousness which would never have allowed her to sit down for a prolonged period, even had she wished to.

Surely not… surely not so soon…

She turned off one of the main thoroughfares and plunged into a semi-overgrown laneway. The shrubs were a vibrant mix of evergreens and deciduous varieties, and the dark emerald contrasted pleasantly with a burning orange. Attempting to distract herself, Elanor brushed the leaves with her fingers. Whatever the season, Rivendell was gloriously beautiful.

Several metres ahead of her, the narrow path ended in a graveled circle. There was a stone bench there, and Elanor sat rather reluctantly.

Why are you so surprised, Elanor?

She sighed.

It was over four months since she and Glorfindel had married; four lovely months in Rivendell, among friends who seemed predisposed to enjoy themselves as much as they could manage. Elladan and Elrohir were carefree and joyous, whilst Legolas and Glorfindel entered into their schemes with scarcely less enthusiasm. Elanor had found herself swept into a course of happy days which surpassed any of her other stretches of joy in Middle-earth. Not only that, but it was now a full two years since she had appeared in the wilds of Cardolan.

Still, this was nothing to her present difficulty.

She shuffled uncomfortably on the stone bench and willed her body to be warmer beneath the thick shawl.

In four months, though?

Elanor sighed again and glanced down at her midsection. She supposed it oughtn't to have been such a surprise, with a complete lack of contraception in Arda. Nevertheless, her growing suspicion as the weeks passed had also carried an element of unease. It was now three months since she had first noticed something unusual—and the certainty that she was with child was mounting.

This wasn't exactly the scenario you might have imagined growing up, now was it?

Well… no. I imagined hospitals and doctors and reliable pregnancy tests. I also didn't imagine the difficulty of a child whose mother is human and whose father is immortal Elf-kind!

A gust of chilly wind caused her to shiver as she sat.

You're almost positive that's what it is now, though, aren't you?

…you could say that, yes.

So why haven't you told Glorfindel?

Yet another hard question. Elanor brushed a strand of hair out of her face and frowned slightly. Grasping at a momentary distraction, she plucked at a curl and studied the ends. A week ago, she'd demanded a haircut, and surprised herself by having Indilwen cut it off just below her shoulders. Something about the medium length made her feel lighter, and more herself. The long Elven-like hair was admirable, but she'd found it to be tiresome after her old-world bob. More than that, her mere human hair had begun to grow coarse and split, so she'd hacked two feet off it before she could second-guess the decision.

Are you done stalling now?

Elanor scowled.

So I haven't told Glorfindel. Somehow, I doubt that having a half-Elven child is going to make anything easier. We haven't even gone near the issue of our future since the wedding. What's a child going to do to that whole mix?

It was a conundrum.

Part of Elanor was relieved, at the idea that she should have a child by the merry, golden-haired Elf with the quick wit and understanding eyes. The other mourned pre-emptively for that child, knowing the fates of the half-Elven and kicking herself for having allowed such a situation to occur. Added to this were a number of significant concerns as to the health and well-being of both herself and her unborn child with an impending journey south for Georgia's wedding. Certainly, Elrond was a capable physician; but could Elven medicine really be compared to the modern technologies of her home-world?

And, as if things needed more complication, this whole thing merely makes me think more about Mum and Dad back home—two-year anniversary and all, plus the idea that they're getting a grandchild they'll never know about or meet.

Truthfully, the whole mess felt too much for Elanor to manage. She leaned her head in her hands.

Goodness, Eru, if I ever needed help, now would be the time, she prayed fervently. I… I don't want to wish this child away, because it's been formed and it's alive and I can already feel myself loving it. But somehow I wish the circumstances were easier; that I knew what would happen between Glorfindel and I, and that I knew it would be safe, and that I could thoroughly enjoy it without the lingering fear… If you ever felt inclined to intervene and do something… now would be the time.

Glorfindel tugged off his second boot and stood upright.

The room in which he stood was a lofty chamber which encompassed two different levels, separated by three, broad steps. The higher held a comfortable bed with a rich canopy and various other items of furniture. The lower was filled by several armchairs, and a warm fireplace. A door near the fireplace led to a bathroom. His favourite feature by a significant margin, however, were the windows which stretched floor to ceiling along the northern wall; they looked out over a particularly beautiful part of the gardens, where bloomed many flowers in spring. Despite the early onset of cooler weather, the plants had lost none of their beauty. If Glorfindel loved them best when they were pockets of colour, there was still something magnificent in the display as trees were uncloaked. Autumn leaves carpeted the lawns, whilst the full beauty of the delicate branches were displayed in the bare trees.

The Elf's keen eyes were fixated on one particular spot at that moment; a lonely part of the garden, whereupon he could see a slim figure pacing. She wore a long white gown, and had a thick russet shawl tucked about herself. The wind was buffeting at her, and still she paced. Glorfindel's blue eyes were lit with gentle pleasure as he watched her. Even for one with such sharp eyesight, he could not make out her face. Still, he would have felt confident in guessing that her countenance was pensive.

"She really ought not to be out in such foul weather," he murmured to himself, half-absently. As if in response to the remark, Elanor abandoned her pacing and strode towards the house with surprising energy. Feeling somewhat smug, Glorfindel left his vantage point and stepped off the upper sleeping platform. The fire had been lit in the small grate in the lower half of the room, and he settled himself in a chair opposite it's crackling warmth. Not five minutes later, the door to their chambers opened, and Elanor slipped inside.

"I had hoped you should not linger in the cold, El," Glorfindel remarked, turning in his chair and smiling. His wife looked wind-blown and a little chilly, but otherwise unharmed. "Come, and sit by the fire."

Disentangling herself from the shawl, Elanor obliged him. As she passed around his arm chair, she brushed his shoulder gently with one hand. Before he could protest, she sat down upon the floor near his feet and leaned her head against his knee.

"Are you well, meleth nin?"

"Quite," she replied, leaning back against the armchair and relaxing. "Though it was rather unpleasant outdoors."

"Mm," her husband agreed, one hand coming to rest upon her soft golden head. It was unusual to see her with relatively-short hair after all this time, though he found he had come to like the shorter tresses. They were now a similar length to his own, though a darker gold and exceedingly curly. To his delight, the change had merely caused them to grow in softness. He wrapped his finger around a gentle wave and smiled down at her, unseen.

"Glorfindel?"

"Yes, Sunstar?"

There was a slight pause, and then all in a rush, "How do you feel about becoming a parent?"

Glorfindel stopped, utterly dumbstruck. His hand paused in stroking her head.

Does she mean…?

"Elanor—"

She sat up upon her knees and turned to face him. One of her hands moved to rest on his arm. Sea-green eyes beseeched him for a response.

"Are—"

"I'm pregnant, yes. Expecting a child." Her face was lined with fear. He needed to say something—

A broad grin split his face. Rising, he seized her with both arms and spun her into the air. Pure joy flooded him, pulsing through his veins till his hands felt as if they tingled with energy. He laughed, loud and delighted, before placing Elanor gently upon the ground. Seizing her shoulders he kissed her, deep and thoroughly. She pulled away slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You're pleased, then?"

"Pleased!" cried Glorfindel, moving back and pressing one hand to her cheek. Words failed him for a moment, and his voice broke as he uttered, "Elanor!"

She hugged him tight about the neck then, standing on her tiptoes. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around her waist. He could feel her heart thudding in her ribcage. Thud-thud. She was warm, and soft, and smelled of the fresh air which rushed into the Valley of Imladris.

And she is carrying your child.

Glorfindel held her until she released her grasp on his neck. Looking up at him in some concern, she sighed.

"Are you certain that this is what you want?"

For a second, he was flooded with utter shock.

"Elanor—it is a child. Our child." Seeing as this did little to explain the matter, he drew her to the chair.

Do humans regard their young differently to how I supposed…?

Seating himself, Glorfindel drew her down beside him. By rights, the chair was made for one person, but he often tucked the slim woman under his arm in this fashion. He loved her nearness.

"Elanor, why should you think that a child would be unwanted?"

The question seemed to sink deep within her, and she did not reply for a full minute. Finally, she gave a small shrug.

"The future is uncertain, meleth."

"The future shall ever be so, El, until Ilúvatar may grant us foresight," Glorfindel smiled, before growing more gentle. "Have I never explained to you the value of children to the Eldar, dearest?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "No."

"To an Elf, a child is a wondrous gift. Our span is endless, yet we bear few children. War has deprived many of family and love. Not all of the Eldar are blessed in discovering one who reciprocates their affection and fewer still grace the world with many Elflings. This child—" He wavered, before reaching out a tentative hand and placing it on Elanor's stomach. She was still as slim as ever, yet it was wondrous to consider that beneath her flesh was a baby. A child. His child.

"We consider children to be the single greatest gift of the Creator."

"Hmm," Elanor murmured. "I can't imagine not wanting a child, though we don't look on the matter quite like that. As nice as babies are, they're fairly common especially at home. We have good medicine and very few babies die."

Glorfindel's brow lowered in a thoughtful frown. "Babies die?"

"Do you not sometimes lose Elven babies to death?"

Glorfindel shook his head emphatically. "It has been known for a mother to pass to the Halls of Mandos in the bearing of a child, though more oft than not this is due to the loss of her spirit than illness. The Elves have been instructed in the medicinal arts since the Elder Days."

Elanor's slim frame relaxed palpably as she sighed. He glanced down at her.

"Do you fear it, Elanor?"

After a moment, she nodded slowly.

Glorfindel's arm tightened reflexively about her shoulder, whilst his other arm moved across Elanor's stomach to pull her against him.

"There is no need for any concern to trouble you," he whispered against her sweet-smelling hair. "Elrond is a skilled healer; no harm shall come to you whilst you are in his care. And," he added, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose as she glanced up at him, "I shall let no harm come to you."

Elanor's eyes welled up before she could glance away. She buried her face into his shoulder.

"Sorry," came a mumbled utterance.

"Pray, do not apologise!" Glorfindel cried. "I would know of aught that troubles you." He looked at her in sudden concern. "Elanor, I ask that you answer truthfully—do you want this baby?"

"Yes," she said, almost fiercely, withdrawing from the comfort of his sleeve. Then, more softly, "It's your baby. Ours."

A broad grin split Glorfindel's face, unseen by his wife.

"And yet you are uneasy?"

"A little," Elanor admitted. "I—I suppose it raises many questions. Our child will be half-Elf, half-human, and that in itself is rather unusual. It frightens me," she said, in a small voice. When he did not reply, she rubbed her cheek against his tunic sleeve. "Glorfindel?"

"Yes, meleth; I confess such thoughts have crossed my mind."

"And?"

"All I know is that I cannot give you up. I will not. Nor shall I ever abandon this child, for the lands of the Valar or otherwise. Dispel such thoughts from you mind, my Elanor!"

At the conclusion of this short pronouncement, Elanor sat up abruptly. Turning so she faced him upon the chair, she cupped his face with both hands and leaned in to speak against his lips.

"Do you know how much I needed to hear that?" she said, very low.

"So; what do we do?" Elanor inquired, sometime later. The two were standing in front of the window looking out upon the gardens. Both of Elanor's arms were wrapped around her husband's waist, and he had her soft head tucked into his chest.

"There are many things we must do," Glorfindel chuckled, his chest vibrating pleasantly against Elanor's ear, "though not all of them are of great import. First, I believe, however, we must speak of things to Lord Elrond. I believe he shall offer good counsel, and he shall be responsible for much of your care in the coming months."

Elanor smiled to herself. It was certainly reassuring to consider that her foster-father was capable of caring for her unborn child. The majority of Middle-earth certainly did not seem an advertisement for good medicinal practices.

"And Georgia's wedding?" she inquired.

"When is it to be?"

"Next December. There must be at least a year's betrothal before they marry."

"Do you know of when the baby shall arrive?"

"The end of April."

"I suppose there is naught to be achieved through preemptive concern, though it could pose some difficulties with travel. Nevertheless, there is no need for you to over-exert yourself in the meanwhile, and I am certain you shall be able to discuss the matter with Georgia."

"No, not really," Elanor exhaled softly. "It's a pity that they can't be married here…"

"I imagine that Lord Éomer would have little enjoyment in wedding Lady Georgia in a haven of the Elves," chuckled Glorfindel. "Though he took a great fancy to Lady Arwen. If any good hath come from the War of the Ring, it may be that the suspicion between the peoples of Middle-earth hath lessened."

"Aragorn and Arwen also got married," his wife smiled softly. "And I got you back."

"Not an entirely morbid affair then, my Elanor."

"No indeed." She snuggled her head against his tunic. As usual, he smelt of pine trees and fresh air. "You are a very comforting person. There really isn't anything we can do except weather the winter months."

"And welcome a little Elanor to the Last Homely House," murmured Glorfindel, inclining his head so he could kiss her hair.

She leaned back and raised an eyebrow at him. "How do we know it shan't be a little you?"

He twinkled at her. "The Valar should never condemn the world to such a fate for a third time!"

Balmier days had returned to Imladris for a brief time; despite the onset of November, slightly milder weather blessed the valley with sunshine and reasonably-pleasant temperatures. This particular day, a small pavilion had been erected on a grassy lawn near the Last Homely House. Within the pavilion was a large seat, spread liberally with cushions and rugs, holding two young women. Both of their eyes were diverted by the activities occurring on the lawn at that time.

Upon the grass stood a knot of tall, lithe figures—and one sturdy man of less than five feet. At this particular point, the Dwarf was accompanied by two of the Elves. All three stood aside whilst two others were busily engaged in a ferocious sparring session.

Elanor's mouth was quirked in a gentle smile as she and Georgia observed. Gold hair mingled with dark brown as Legolas and Glorfindel whirled in a swift dance with wooden practice swords.

"They're very good," murmured Georgia, leaning forward in her seat with her lips parted in admiration.

Elanor glanced at her with a grin. "Don't let Éomer hear you admiring other men so liberally!"

"Well, one is already married to my sister," Georgia replied, pragmatically. "And the other has almost been adopted as a cousin into the family. I think I'm fairly safe. Now, watch your husband and cross all your fingers he manages to best the Prince of Mirkwood!"

Elanor turned her attention back to the sparring. This was not the first bout of the afternoon; Legolas and Glorfindel had already clashed twice, both encounters falling in favour of the latter. She could not help being proud that her tall husband with his cat-like grace and athleticism had come out on top—as much as she liked the blue-eyed, merry Legolas. Even Elladan and Elrohir had been unable to beat the golden-haired Noldorin—their childhood tutor in many aspects of weaponcraft.

The swords that Glorfindel and Legolas used were the length and approximate weight of two-handed broadswords. Legolas was attempting to wear down his partner's guard using a series of looping cuts. He swung from left to right, wrists rotating with supple grace as he flung himself at the other Elf.

Glorfindel moved with near-lightning swiftness. Legolas twisted his fake blade round in a small circle, thrusting forward. Glorfindel parried it aside with ease. Twirling about, his opponent spun in a full circle whilst Glorfindel was still following his momentum forwards. Grasping the hilt with both hands, Legolas directed a devastating blow at Glorfindel's exposed side. Unconsciously, Elanor stiffened and leaned forward.

As if moving pre-emptively, Glorfindel swayed backwards and to one side. He seemed to bend over, his knees virtually at a right angle and his body parallel to the ground and balancing himself on one arm. To Elanor it seemed as if he were attempting a slightly lop-sided back-bend. Legolas' sword cut through the air above him, where mere seconds ago he had stood. As the Silvan Elf followed through with the vicious slice, Glorfindel sprang to his feet, pushing off his left hand. Before Legolas could right himself, the other's sword hovered point-first against his back.

Elanor exhaled, not having realized she held her breath.

Legolas, glancing over his shoulder, grinned as he discovered the bout's conclusion.

"And I, hoping to best you at last, mellon-nin!" he cried, perfectly cheerful as he executed a short bow and breathed deep to still his panting. "You are a formidable opponent. I could never have foreseen such a move on your part, friend Glorfindel."

The latter grinned broadly, also breathing harder than normal. "I have been saving it for such an occasion as this! I could not allow my record to become tarnished."

The twins and Gimli joined them then, adding to the laughter.

"Coming?" Elanor inquired, turning to her sister as she rose from her chair in the pavilion.

"Yes."

The two women strode across the grass swiftly. Elanor adjusted a shawl as she went, finding she was sensitive to the weather, even though it could hardly be considered cold.

Glorfindel grinned over Gimli's head at her as the two Ravenscroft girls approached. Elanor moved to his side, and he placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"Laugh away, Elanor Elrondiel," said Legolas, smiling. "You share the success of your beloved, I see it in your eyes."

"Naturally," replied she, modestly. "I know well enough what kind of opponent you are, Legolas! Did you not tutor me for some weeks?"

"To no avail, apparently!" Legolas returned, wherein Elanor laughed heartily and met his eyes in a knowing look. Her marriage to Glorfindel had not altered the brotherly camaraderie that she shared with Thranduil's son. Legolas, truthfully, found great joy in observing the newlyweds, considering that he had foreseen such a development long before even the lovers themselves. He and Gimli had entered into the running of Rivendell with enthusiasm. The Elf's bright blue eyes were ever alight with pleasure and interest. His dark head was often to be seen walking in company with both the twins and Glorfindel, and he had devoted a good measure of his time to Elanor. No longer did they spar—she had never regained an interest in the activity—but she still went for gentle horseback rides and played chess. It was refreshing, and reminded Elanor of the days before the Fellowship had departed.

Coming back to her present surroundings, Elanor glanced between the cheery faces. Elladan and Elrohir were engaged in a good-natured argument, into which Georgia was entering admirably. The others laughed, and she smiled in response at their exuberance.

At that moment, Elanor felt a queer fluttering in her stomach. The sensation repeated itself, until she realized with a start that it was not merely a disgruntled digestive system. The third time, the feeling was so distinct that she squeezed Glorfindel's arm to prevent herself laughing aloud.

I can tell you're there, little one. And in five months' time, it shall be very nice indeed to meet you!

There is Chapter 47 - and not too long after 46, so we have obviously improved in *that* regard!

It's rather bittersweet drawing to the conclusion of Elanor's story... though I always felt like offspring was part of it. ^_^ It's nostalgic but also rather nice to be wrapping up Elanor's time in Middle-earth.

Anyhowwww...

QUESTION OF THE DAY: Do you think Elanor and Glorfindel's baby will be male or female? And, depending on your guess... what would you name the baby? Keen to hear your suggestions!

Many thanks, Finwe. x