Arwen could imagine a lot of things more pleasant than the medical check-ups that her progressing pregnancy demanded with increasing frequency.
Therefore, she was very glad for Aragorn being disciplined enough to always take the time to accompany her, no matter how much was going on again in the Citadel and the realm these days. And he wasn't just sitting by her side then. He always listened to her healer's remarks just as nervously as she did, especially when Ioreth explained everything Arwen had to heed and what was best for the unborn. It meant a lot to Arwen that her husband insisted on giving her this support in spite of the displeasure of some of his advisors.
But today, though he'd got her from the King's House punctually once more, he hadn't been able to leave his duties behind completely.
This time, that was alright. Arwen was actually happy that his guest accompanied them to the sixth city level, seeing as it was Langhour himself who had some more things to talk about with Aragorn. The man shouldn't leave before Arwen had thanked him once more for saving them from the Stewardaides in Lossarnach. She hadn't really got a chance for that so far. Because after their kidnapping, Langhour had gone on the search for Barhit immediately, and in the last few days, he'd only made brief stops in the city. The surrogate leader of the Dúnedain who was still just as shaken by that thing with Erestor as they were, saw it as his personal mission to track down those last Stewardaides still on the loose. Given that the men's tracks needed to be found quickly, Langhour had to hurry and explain the last details regarding his hunt while he was already on his way to the stables.
While the men were immersed in a discussion about the enemies' possible hideouts, Arwen and her handmaiden followed them at some distance. Arwen had first had no idea why Ranír had insisted on coming with her to the healer today, or why the young woman who was usually not vain at all had smeared some charcoal on her eyelids and put up her long dark curls using a pretty hair clip.
The furtive glances that she was now regarding the Dúnadan with from behind, quickly made it clear to Arwen. She couldn't bite back a broad grin when Ranír asked her when that stranger would leave exactly.
The disappointment about the answer was plain to see on the handmaiden's face. "But he'll surely come back to Minas Tirith soon, right?"
"I suppose so. After all, he needs to bring the prisoners here."
"But isn't that really dangerous? I wish, the King would assign more people to do this." Ranír's worried eyes darted over the Dúnadan's slightly stocky but conspicuously muscular silhouette.
Arwen's smile deflated. "He knows, believe me. But he wants to do this badly, and he prefers to work alone. He's blaming himself for not spotting Barhit in the water before the man could shoot Lord Erestor at Rauros, though that criminal had hidden so well that not even Glorfindel was able to see him. That's haunting him. His Majesty, in any case, wouldn't have given him this job on his part. We owe so much to Langhour already."
The excitement in Ranír's bright, high voice intensified even more. "Well, given he's already saved you from these bastards, there's no one better to find the rest of them. And I'm sure, it won't take him long … Or will it?"
Arwen's laughter had the two men look back at them questioningly and Ranír blush to the roots of her hair.
"Why don't you just ask him when he'll be back? When it comes to Dúnedain, you can never tell for sure."
"But I can't interrupt his conversation with His Majesty. Besides, we haven't even been introduced." The handmaiden nervously tugged on her collar, indecisively, because she'd obviously hoped that Langhour would at least notice her after all. "Maybe he already has a wife or a husband anyway …"
"That, too, is something you can never say for sure when it comes to someone of this folk." Arwen hated to ruin the little crush of that woman who had grown so dear to her heart. But since Langhour might indeed already have a partner or even kids somewhere in a faraway country, it was better for Ranír's heart to be broken before she could seriously fall for the man.
When Aragorn started to say goodbye to his friend, Arwen quickly approached them. "Langhour, wait a minute, please."
"I know, Your Majesty. And it's completely unnecessary. No one is happier than me that I still made it there in time. I'm just ashamed that I didn't get there earlier." Langhour took a brief bow and started to turn away already but Arwen stopped him.
"I will be grateful for all eternity, if you want to hear it or not." She lightly bowed her head as well to signal the man her respect and her affection.
"But that's not the only reason I'm here. As far as I know, you're lacking a horse for your future travels since you borrowed yours only from that innkeeper a while ago. My handmaiden Ranír knows the horses that are property of the King. Choose one of these loyal steeds. It shall be yours from now on, in appreciation of your service. Ranír will accompany you to the stables and organize everything."
For a moment, Langhour hesitated visibly to accept the offer, but then he agreed after all, as he would be much faster on this hunt with a new and comparatively far fitter horse alone, and said innkeeper wouldn't have to do without his animal any longer then.
Sure, Aragorn could have just given him enough gold to purchase a horse on the way. But with the well-trained animals of the King's stables, a hunter especially knew better what he was dealing with. After all, some of them had used to belong to soldiers, some of them to Denethor, and some had been a gift from the King of Rohan, given to Aragorn because Aragorn had provided Éomer with Faramir's Rangers not too long ago, to help him fight the last scattered hostile orc groups in his realm.
Langhour bowed to Arwen once more. Warmth had crept into his usually quite sober, reserved-looking dark eyes. "Now it is me who has to say thank you. I will protect the animal wherever I go, given the Valar allow me to."
Then he quickly hurried towards the stables, as was his way, so it wasn't easy for Ranír to keep up, especially because she tried hard not to let even one strand of hair slip out of place or possibly get her dress dusty.
Aragorn eyed Arwen in confusion and raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.
"Let's just say, Ranír knows now why I found a certain Dúnadan so irresistible back then."
Arwen shrugged in delight when she noticed Aragorn's doubts regarding such a possible unusual pair. "Come on. He's about to leave anyway. They won't be able to exchange more than a few words. But maybe he remembers her when he comes back. Come on now. Ioreth is waiting."
"Sometimes it frightens me how quickly you just take matters in your own hands." Shaking his head, Aragorn followed her, not without looking back towards the stables once more.
By now, Arwen could have recited every word of what Ioreth told her every single time. To the healer, it might sound easy enough that Arwen should be eating more because she was still too thin for this stage of her pregnancy. After all, she wasn't the one who felt like the Battle of the Black Gate would be held in her stomach again for half of the day.
Aragorn must have sensed that today, the elderly woman's occasionally quite bossy tone had unnerved her especially badly. He, fortunately, spared her lecturing her similarly when they left the treatment room on the ground floor. He preferred to grin away in sympathy when they arrived at the end of the hall, getting out of earshot, and Arwen couldn't contain herself any longer.
"Seriously, does she think I'm an elfling, Estel? I'm surprised she doesn't just talk to you instead of me. She acts as if this was her child and she was just gracious enough to let me take care of it!" Upset, Arwen crossed her arms and leaned back against the – fortunately pleasantly cool – wall with an angry snort because in her annoyance, she promptly started to feel dizzy. The last thing she needed right now was possibly fainting right here in this hallway. Then Ioreth would have a new reason for reprimanding her.
Gently grabbing her shoulder, Aragorn caught her pouting glance. "I know from firsthand experience how exhausting she can be, believe me. But just like the other healers, Ioreth worries about you two a lot. It's the first time for everyone here that a Prince or a Princess will be born. For the people, that means first and foremost that the new line of Kings gains strength and will not fail. Do you know what I think? Ioreth knows that your family in Imladris can't be by your side right now, that there's no one you can ask certain things. She wants to be this person for you instead. She does the same with Ilya, by the way. In this situation, you're lacking the advice that your mother would have given you. I know how much you still miss her, right now even more than usual. Ioreth surely suspects that, too."
"Then she should work on how to try and show that. Her snippy attitude is driving me crazy." Arwen took a thoughtful look back at the room that Ioreth was already preparing everything for the next patient in. Actually, she was glad about each of the healers' advice, of course. When Ioreth would next treat her as if she didn't understand what all of this was about, she should just remember Aragorn's words.
With a sigh, she pushed herself away from the wall, already mentally bracing herself for having to step back outside soon, getting back into the summer heat, when a door of some healer's private chambers a few feet away was being opened.
A very well-known, tall figure with a hip-length brunette braid scurried into the adjoining room and then vanished back into the first one. A quiet rumble could be heard, and that furniture was being moved.
Finally! Arwen had been waiting the whole time to finally talk to Tarisilya again in private, but aside from the four of them having brief meals together, the elves hadn't been showing their face outside the guesthouse for days.
Today, Legolas and Gimli had left for Emyn Arnen though where there was still much work waiting to be completed. That was a good opportunity. Arwen knew how it felt when a short time of being together with your beloved had just ended and first, you wanted to deal with everything on your own again; but she also knew that you often just didn't dare to look for comfort in other people because you didn't want to burden anyone.
The worst that could happen was Tarisilya sending her away again. Arwen let Aragorn go back without her before one of his advisors could track him down and drag him back to the Citadel by his belt buckle. Later, one of the guards could escort her back just as well.
Since there was no answer to her quiet knock, she just entered at last.
Things had been rearranged a little in the small room that Tarisilya had spent the night in more often than in the guesthouse in her time in Minas Tirith back then. More free space had been created. It was obviously being prepared for her to move back in.
Tarisilya was busy putting a few books on a head-high shelf and took only a quick look back at her, with a fleeting but honest smile.
"So the Houses of Healing will have you back. Very good."
Tarisilya pointed at two thick books that lay on a high, white writing pedestal in the corner. "I won't have as much time as I used to, but I'll be there when they need me."
The sight of Erestor's legacy that had traditionally had a place in his library office in her home for so long and that would now never return there, had Arwen shudder. The tragedy was far from forgotten.
She rather reached for one of the smaller works on the massive oak wood desk that utter chaos was already prevailing on again already. She wasn't able to make much sense of the sober terms of art in it; it had just been too long since her father had taught her the most rudimentary techniques of healing for that. And in her time as a warrior, she had basically forgotten everything. Healing and life of battle usually just didn't go together. That was a lecture that Tarisilya in particular had had to learn how to accept only very reluctantly.
Arwen's brothers were among the few healer elves rejecting this tradition with legendary stubbornness. Thanks to an unprecedented balancing act, even millennia later, Elladan and Elrohir could still say for themselves, they'd never killed anyone, in spite of their contribution to Imladris' border security and their aggressive fight against countless orcs by the Dúnedain's side, back then after the horrible tragedy regarding their mother. There were only a few elves who would voluntarily choose such a double burden, and Arwen wasn't one of them.
"By the … I have an idea why Ioreth was being so nice earlier. She's probably having a bad conscience. All of my old records have vanished, and the herb stash is already incomplete again. It was indeed about time I came back. Give me a moment, please. I'll be right back."
Tarisilya stomped to the door, probably about to call Ioreth so that she could complain loudly about these nuisances. But she'd scrambled up from her crouched position a little too fast and promptly had to sit down on the bed because she was feeling dizzy.
"Faint pulse, that's all," she assured when she saw Arwen's worried glance. "The day's started too early. You only realize how little sleep elves do actually need when your body requires more of it than usual. And since Legolas just had to leave before the sun was even …"
She interrupted herself with a sigh. "I need to stop whining. The last few days have been more beautiful than I could have expected given the circumstances. And without him, I would never have completed copying that book so quickly. I couldn't ask it of Legolas to stay any longer. He's made up for a lot already." Lost in thought, she closed her hand around something in the side pocket of her dress.
Arwen sat down next to the other she-elf and carefully grabbed her arm, pulling it towards her. She still couldn't and didn't want to talk about Erestor. At least for a few hours, she rather wanted to let the harmonic mood prevailing at the court right now lighten her mind.
"What is it that occupies your mind there?" She looked down at a jewel, a crescent-shaped hair clip, in surprise. "This is beautiful! A gift from Legolas?"
"A messenger from Eryn Lasgalen brought him a few things from the palace yesterday. This, he gave it to me before he left. There's apparently a whole set of them; it's called Elaerfin." Tarisilya set the jewel down on the dresser carefully that looked so expensive that it wasn't hard to guess, it came from Thranduil's legendary private vaults.
"It's actually far too valuable for my taste. Sometimes he really is his father's son. Thranduil himself has apparently insisted on choosing that collection when Legolas asked him for something like that. I owe His Majesty a lot, so I couldn't say no. Legolas wants to give me one of them every time he has to go back to Cair Andros, until I give birth." Her expression lacked the anticipation that in the light of such a promise, one would expect though.
"Gifts can give you comfort, but they can't replace the presence of a beloved person." Arwen lovingly brushed her friend's bangs aside. "I know how you feel. Sometimes all you want to do is scream at your husband when he leaves once more, but you know that he has no choice. If you want to talk – I'm here for you anytime. Fellow sufferers got to stick together, don't they?"
She eyed Tarisilya's pale appearance critically. "Apart from that, with all that happened, how are you feeling?"
"Saying it doesn't affect me deeply would be a lie." Tarisilya paused, apparently uncertain if she could make Arwen understand at least what Legolas had so much trouble getting. "It was a too-quick goodbye, in every regard. And not knowing when and where we'll meet again so that we can finally make real amends … Mithrandir came to see me earlier. He offered me to come with him if I wanted to attend the mourning ceremony in Imladris. But I can't ask that of the child."
Arwen nodded in compassion, relieved that by now, her friend was reasonable enough to understand things like that herself. Though the temptation to agree had surely been big – as it had been for Arwen, too.
The wizard would probably spend his last time on Middle-earth in her old home. It wasn't time for Arwen's father and for most of the other realm leaders yet to lay down their last duties in these realms, but that was only a matter of a few years. A knowledge weighing down heavily on Arwen as well. Due to her decision for the Secondborn, she would never be allowed to look into the light of the Valar. Once her family had boarded once of the grey ships, she would never see them again.
And that Mithrandir would turn his back to this world, together with the noble elves of Imladris and Lórien, was quite certain. That this endlessly courageous and goodhearted being had already been longing to have the peace and beauty of Aman back for a very long time as Arwen knew only too well, didn't make the grief easier to bear. Mithrandir, too, had many friends in Gondor he would leave behind.
"How about we travel to Imladris together next year? I'm sure, Aragorn would love that." The proposal sprang from these thoughts, and she should maybe have talked to Aragorn first before bringing up something like that. But she was actually quite sure that he would agree. He wasn't ready yet either, not by a long shot, to know his old elvish family to be in an unreachable distance.
"Ada would never leave before he got to meet our baby at least. And Elladan and Elrohir probably won't be drawn away from here for a few decades to come anyway. I'm sure Mithrandir will want to see our two successors just as badly."
"What a wonderful idea." Tarisilya was promptly beaming. "Lord Elrond will be so excited! He's already been there for Legolas and me when no one else believed in us. Then he can tell ada and Tegiend about it later …" She quickly became wistful again but tried to dwell on this beautiful prospect.
"Strange, isn't it? That not one but two heirs to the throne will be born in a few months …"
Arwen put an arm around her shoulders, glad that her friend didn't startle back. It wasn't often that Tarisilya allowed such nearness. They were very similar in this respect as well. But right now, she was being more vulnerable than usual and needed comfort.
"Your family will be very happy to hear about the baby. And then, when the little one gets to meet their uncle and their other grandfather, they'll have a connection to both worlds. That's worth so much. They'll love Middle-earth and Men just as much as you do and will never forget where they were born. And my child will treat them like a brother or a sister. The two of them will only strengthen the friendship between the folks. It's Legolas and you who make all that possible. Everything you're yearning for so much right now, you'll later have in Aman. I know it's easy to say, but at least you still have that chance."
"Please forgive me. I didn't want to remind you of your loss." Tarisilya squeezed her hand firmly.
"I'm just not old enough yet to let centuries pass me by as if they were days. And my life has always only consisted of waiting, without me even knowing if it made any sense. Fortunately, that has changed now." She briefly caressed her bump that was still quite small. The baby's body developed slower than Arwen's child did since her own body was basically an elf's only on the outside now. An elvish pregnancy lasted a whole year, and Tarisilya had only made it through half of that time. And yet she seemed to be facing the rest of it more relaxed than she had managed to in the last few months. The old sadness about her first baby's death was still noticeable, but at this moment, Arwen realized that Tarisilya had processed part of it.
"Now there's someone who belongs with me like hardly anyone ever did. Who'll be with me even when my husband cannot. That's something, no one can take from me, no matter what happens. Or from you."
She put her other hand on Arwen's belly for a moment. "After everything you've been through, this is a gift. You and Aragorn, you've been there for me ever since the war. You taught me to realize what's most important to me in my life. There's no one better I could wish for to accompany me in the last of my time in these realms."
Arwen cast down her eyes in sadness. "Let us not talk about your farewell from Middle-earth, please. That more and more of us are leaving this world is bad enough. Knowing that my best friend will also be one of these travelers, but I …" She paused, lost in thought, and sauntered back to the book shelf.
"At some point, there won't be many persons left here who really mean something to me. Don't begrudge me for hoping that I won't have to be alive to see you go as well."
"Your Highness? Forgive the disturbance, but I have something for you." After a brief knock, Ioreth just entered, just like Arwen had, a rolled-up parchment in her hand.
She gave it to the other she-elf and then took a look around at the room. An honest smile brightened her round, reddened face. "I'm really very grateful that you want to help us out for another while."
"I hope you won't have to take that back soon." After scanning the message, Tarisilya suddenly grinned. "My bodyguard won't just bring me my horse and a few things from Lórien when he'll come back from Imladris in a few months. Your best cat friend is in his luggage as well."
To Arwen's surprise, the expected screams of terror never came. Ioreth was still regarding the two she-elves with a motherly glance that also assured Arwen, she really hadn't meant her any harm earlier. "As long as I don't have to fear for your life and for the life of your child again, I can even handle that beast. But if she robs the pantry again, I'll throw her out personally!" she threatened immediately when she realized that her resolute reputation was being at risk right now.
The morning ended with bright laughter.
Given this was the last evening he would ever spend together with his father in these realms, it hadn't been exactly Thondrar's ideal vision to attend dinner with elf settlement leaders. But he was aware, of course, that other noble elves like King Thranduil, Lord Celeborn, and Lady Galadriel also wanted to say goodbye to the most legendary warrior of Middle-earth, just like Lord Elrond himself, even though it would take some of them only a few years before they would see Glorfindel again.
Thondrar wouldn't be granted this prospect of a speedy reunion. But that had been his own decision after all, and his father had already taken a lot of time for him in the last few weeks. Especially given Glorfindel's still so fresh loss, Thondrar didn't take that for granted.
So he clenched his teeth and threw on the most elegant robe made of velvet that he owned that would still make him look like a Ranger after three weeks of autumn rain compared to figures like Thranduil and his own father. Just as reluctantly, from the very bottom of his travel bag, he got the golden circlet of a realm he'd never been allowed to see with his own two eyes, not in a way that he could have remembered. A jewel fortunately modest, without any gems, tapering off to the top and bottom. Forcing a polite smile onto his face, he left the chambers he'd lived in for so long and that were now dusty with loneliness.
He actually managed to deal with the slumberous banter between the Lords ever until dessert was served then, but at some point, he just had to flee to the balcony of Lord Elrond's personal chambers that this special meeting had been re-scheduled in. Which was, of course, a big honor; there weren't many elves who had ever had access to this place. Unfortunately, the bitter aftertaste remained that such celebrations had recently been held in smaller accommodations on principal so that the emptiness and silence in the big halls, after the departure to the west of so many of this valley's residents in and after the war, couldn't crush you too badly.
Besides, there had been another depressing sight at the host's marble table in the festivity hall for a few weeks now: a chair that hadn't been occupied particularly often in the course of the millennia … but that would never be again in these place either.
The almost palpable grief for one of the oldest, most experienced elves of these realms did, in spite of Erestor's mistakes at his end, not provide Thondrar with a lot of patience for Thranduil's and Glorfindel's usual digs today, or for Thranduil's and Galadriel's constant arguing around border security and wildlife care.
Thondrar might never have cared about Erestor as much as his father had, but one of their folk being murdered never left an elf cold. Especially not when the dead had basically been family, no matter if Thondrar liked that or not. In the last few days, he had occasionally skimmed both the latest version of Erestor's diary stored in Imladris and the last additions to it that had been brought here from Gondor. He was surprised to find, he was feeling more lenient now.
Given his own not entirely gapless knowledge, Thondrar didn't presume to be able to understand everything recorded by Erestor there in the course of his millennia. But even he had quickly realized that these observations and philosophic considerations would be of inestimable value for the elves in Aman in particular. Mostly so that they would never forget how much they had all left behind on Middle-earth or would still leave behind and how important keeping the peace was, especially including the one among their own people.
He could think about this eccentric elf with respect and regret now and had done everything to comfort his father at least a little. It hadn't helped much; for that, the two of them just hadn't come far enough yet after all.
And now there was no more time to keep trying. Glorfindel had only waited for these parchments from Minas Tirith before packing the last of his things. From tomorrow on, the Lord from Gondolin would have to try again on his own to deal with not being able to save one of his very first charges in the end, no matter how hard he'd tried, But at the hiking trips in the mountains that they'd gone on recently, he had smiled at least every now and then. That was already more than could have been expected.
Being just as little enthusiastic about politics as Thondrar, he'd quickly dropped that expression again at the beginning of this evening, though politeness and countenance forbade him to just flee as his son had.
Thondrar didn't want to have to watch that any longer. Neither of them would have profited from that. He needed his mental strength. From tomorrow on, he, too, would have to deal with several things on his own again, at least in the few decades he'd still stay in these realms. Good thing he was plenty used to that by now.
He had one – pleasantly silent – company left in this night of melancholy as he realized when something soft and furry caressed his legs. "Not you again. Forget it, you've had more than enough." Smirking, he picked up Tarisilya's cat who had apparently no longer felt like listening to the nobles either.
The little monster had actually made it to successfully beg all of the attendees for little bites from the extensive meal, using the same heartbreaking mewl every time, as if it was the most neglected being in these realms until Thondrar had noticed the trick and chased it away.
Tarisilya would have his head for already spoiling the adorable white animal so much in his short time as an involuntary owner. Or maybe not. Probably not. After all, she'd already thought the little one lost.
But cats didn't have nine lives for nothing. A crew member had found the little one in the traveling ship's pantry where it had enjoyed itself greatly. It was probably only thanks to the man's bad conscience about Barhit having been able to kidnap Tarisilya basically right before his eyes, that he had caught the cat and brought it to the marchwardens of Lórien. The next group of elves leaving for Mithlond had taken it from there to Imladris then.
And Thondrar had dealing with that unruly beast in his saddlebag to look forward to soon next. Which would probably officially make Conuiril the farthest traveling small animal in all of Middle-earth.
By now, Thondrar could almost laugh about this little miracle. It was hopefully a good omen for the immediate future, for the hard trial that Tarisilya and the Queen, too, would soon have to pass. A promise that the Valar would also hold their protective hand over two other helpless little beings whose stars had not yet risen, once their lives would begin.
And if Thondrar didn't mean to miss these significant events, it would soon be time for him to leave the valley as well. The next weeks would then hopefully keep him busy enough to not possibly be wondering for years to come if he should have asked Glorfindel a certain question after all.
"The Lord has not mounted his cart yet, child of Gondolin." Even after all this time, Lady Galadriel was still one of the few she-elves who managed to approach him unnoticed. "Do not allow anger to start poisoning your heart again, once your father has entered his ship, just because you didn't find the courage to confront him."
"It can wait, milady. He has enough to deal with right now. I don't want the past to ruin the evening." It sounded like an excuse and it was one.
With a sigh, Thondrar turned away from the lights glistening on the lakes and above the surrounding mountaintops and braced himself for re-entering the room. Somehow, he would make it through these last few hours too without literally falling asleep out of boredom. Better that than having the deep blue eyes of such a wise, she-elf, equipped with so many scary abilities, dissect him any longer.
But Galadriel didn't move an inch from the glassy slide door that was supposed to protect the dining room from the wind as unpleasant as the one twisting her almost floor-length bright curls into knots around her delicate shape today. She didn't even seem to notice. Looking almost unnerved, she glanced back and forth between Thondrar's hunched shape and Glorfindel sitting stiffly at the table. He almost expected her to roll her eyes, to emphasize how immature the two of them were in the eyes of the noble Lady, in spite of all their millennia.
"If he wanted to prevent that, he should have talked to you about it freely, and far earlier. Your father often sought my advice when things between you were still difficult. And today, I would still tell him the same as I did back then. As long as he doesn't finally face his own pain, he can never overcome the one between you two."
"He did try." In spite of all the quirks Glorfindel had, that both of them had, Thondrar had never felt the need to defend his father as often as in the last few months. It seemed, he finally had to be in a proper battle again for a change; he was getting sentimental. "That thing with Erestor happened before he could. Once my own path takes me to Aman, we'll have enough time for each other."
"And until then, you want to deal with even more loneliness? Do you think you can help carry the burden of the last elven realm in these parts on your shoulders if your heart drowns in more and more coldness, Glorfindelion?" The shadow of the usual worry about her own people who had settled at Cair Andros and who would soon be under Thondrar's protection again, darkened Galadriel's eyes noticeably for a moment.
He had to try hard not to flare up. If there was one thing he was reacting very sensitive to, it was being accused of not being able to fulfill his duty. He hadn't trained so hard, for so long, beating the living daylights out of someone even with only one capable arm for that. "My personal issues have never stopped me from doing my chores with full commitment. Ask Lord Elrond if you don't believe me. I've waited many centuries for my father to finally talk to me about his past, milady. I'll make it to be patient for one or two more."
"I promised you, the time for silence is over." Well, and that was the second time within a few minutes that someone came close to him unnoticed, which explained Galadriel's mild grin, too.
Maybe Thondrar had been bragging a little too loudly a minute ago and would actually be better off on a ship west by his father's side after all. His instincts and his attention, in any case, left much to be desired right now. So much for going easy on Glorfindel tonight.
The corners of his mouth pulled down in a silent apology, he turned to him and bowed briefly, lightly. "It's nothing, ada. Just a few heavy thoughts before a cloudy morning."
As so often, Glorfindel didn't even show it with the twitch of an eyelid how much of the conversation he'd heard. But the unlimited tenderness suddenly prevailing in his melodic voice had Thondrar's eyes fill with tears. He almost never talked to him like that in front of other people. "Come inside, ion. Time for the official part."
The last plates had been taken away, the wine glasses were refilled, but there was none by Glorfindel's chair. Instead, a thick roll of very expensive-looking parchment lay in front of him, tied with a most precious golden ribbon and adorned with Glorfindel's seal, sporting the usual rayed sun. Only a very close look revealed that his hand was lightly shaking when he thrust the roll into Thondrar's hand. "To get you by until our paths will bring us back together at the white beaches."
Thondrar's throat was suddenly too dry to produce even a single word, even a thank you. When he broke the seal with cautious fingertips, he looked into his mother's wise, kind eyes, at a drawing so lifelike that he expected it to move and smile at him any second.
Only his mother had never been smiling much.
Below the detailed illustration, there were too many words in Glorfindel's slightly sloppy, slanted handwriting to study them immediately, especially since Thondrar had no plans to cry in front of an audience. But just a few lines were enough to realize that his father hadn't turned his memories of his wife only into the pictures on these two dozen sheets. He'd known exactly, still, what was moving his son, and though he'd never verbally managed to go back to the past again, in spite of their reconciliation back then … He still fulfilled Thondrar's wish.
It was a gift that would indeed help him much with making it through the next few decades. The stiff, resilient paper in Thondrar's hand – also trembling now – was of the durable sort, remaining unscathed for an especially long time, not easily attacked by either time or weather, sealed with the wilderness and magic of the environment it originated from. There was only one kind of woods in these realms where you could find trees like that.
Even while Thondrar was still busy reaching over the table, squeezing Glorfindel's shoulder firmly because he still wasn't sure, he could have addressed his father without a sob, he aimed a just as shaky smile at Thranduil.
"I recognize your handwriting, too."
"Just the material," the King replied, as extremely impassive as he always tried to be in emotional matters. But Thondrar saw exactly that the King's ocean blue eyes were glistening a little brighter than usual as well.
"The least I could do. While the three of us can hardly ever agree on anything, your father has saved the lives of my daughter-in-law and her unborn child at Rauros. And you, too, have dedicated yourself to the safety of my son and his family. I never want you to lose even the memory of yours again. I would have given your father some information too, but I could indeed not even find a single record about your mother in my books. She was as nameless for the realms of elves in life as your father had described it."
"That's alright." Thondrar and Glorfindel exchanged a glance of rare full harmony. "If you knew her, you knew her beauty was not only on the outside." Thondrar turned the sheet in his hands towards the King, with a smile still quite touched that faltered though when Thranduil startled, his eyes going wide.
"Was that your wife, Lord Glorfindel? This is Sednara ó Gondolin?"
Frowning, Thondrar looked at his father, immediately both confused and a little nervous when, after a questioning glance, Thranduil carefully took the parchment from him and traced the black-haired she-elf's round, melancholic features with his fingertips, with less than an inch of distance to the paper, as if he was trying to memorize them … or as if he was calling something long forgotten to his mind.
Glorfindel was apparently just as unable to make head nor tail of this behavior. "As far as my memory allowed me to immortalize her. Why …?"
Instead of an answer, Thranduil silently held the parchment in Galadriel's and Celeborn's direction.
While Celeborn audibly gasped for air, an honest and indeed similarly surprised smile curled on Galadriel's lips. "Fascinating. Even after all this time, the constellation of many a star has not yet been revealed to me. Él nín, maybe we still have …"
"Yes." Almost childlike-looking excitement had crept into Celeborn's usually quite sober, rough features. "Upon our return, I will search our archives of the First Age immediately. There has to be a reference somewhere, though the two of them have probably never spent much time together. The wars in Beleriand tore many families apart."
Thondrar and Glorfindel exchanged another completely clueless glance. Glorfindel already had a question on his lips.
Thranduil didn't let him speak. Thondrar had rarely seen this usually so distanced elf with such a lively expression on his face. He looked like he was about to fidget about on his chair. "Tell me, Lord Glorfindel … Do you know if your wife had a sister?"
And then, Glorfindel suddenly turned very pale.