Twelve Songs In Rivendel.
An Elrond Romance
by The Fox.
Chapter Three
From Fornost
Sweet Child Of Mine.
MidSummer Night
The air itself looked more translucent, more brilliant under the stars over Rivendel that night, the sky over them
immense and perfect in a blanket of thousands of stars, piercingly silver and clear. The black sapphire blanket shone reflected
in the streams surrounding the valley, like little silver candles flickering just slightly. And thousands of tiny elven magic lamps
shone hanging like colored tiny stars in the trees, the buildings, the roof of the house, and too in the fresh garden where the
people talked and enjoyed themselves in Elrond's hospitality, admiringly appraising the magical appearance of the Last Homely
house. The light was silver and soft: the music, sweet arpeggios in worship to Elbereth.
Elrond itself was there in the bower, a royal blue tunic enveloping his lean form, embroidered with a line of waves and stars
across the chest. He wore the circlet of Imladris, and the blue ring rested in his finger, his shine alive like another star. He
wore his hair cascading down his shoulders in shades of midnight, and smiled, talking to the ancient man in gray in his right,
whose long gray hair was sparkled by the stars into silver. The old man looked strong: strong and powerful as the storm, but as
gentle as the summer breeze gracing the fair valley. He smiled, even over worried, flashing eyes, and his smile looked enough
to give assurance to the scared ones around Mid Earth. And even if his deep, grumpy words contrasted with the clear, soft
tones of the Lord Of Rivendel, they looked as much at ease as two old friends in a meeting very well waited. And as they
smiled over silver goblets full of a sunny wine, they looked strangely alike.
At Elrond's side sat Arwen, her ample and delicate red gown like the petals of a summer rose opening around her
unforgettable eyes. She listened at Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel and Estel's conversation, which had forsaken their serious talk
about the darkening of the wild lands for her sake, and were playing like children and laughing like it wasn't any worry in the
world. And in fact it was impossible to worry or to be sad under that shining blue sky, under those elven stars, with the Fair
people moving under the trees. It was almost like the air itself was one from a happier age that they could conjure into life by
their sole wish for mortal eyes to contemplate.
The music was soft and enveloping: it a lost poem of love and peace and goodbye, and Elrond watched with shadowed
eyes his daughter dancing in the arms of his foster son. The young human looked noble, almost Elfish in his white attire, his
black untamable hair waving as he spoke animatedly, the long white arms of Arwen lifted as her tiny white hands rested in the
darker, bigger, but so sure hands of the Ranger.
- Elrond…?-
- Excuse me, Mithrandir. What were you saying?-
- So this girl wasn't supposed to come back with the answers? We need to know what Galadriel and Thranduil would say.- he
sighed tiredly, but smiled.- I can't help but feel relieved. Even against the judgement of Saruman, the highest Istari of my
order, I'm happy to see the Mid Earth finally take action against the darkness. All my instincts had been yelling at me for too
long.-
- My patience was wearing thin too, my old friend, and you know what it happens when I receive direct orders from
somebody, even if he is the head of the White Council. –
- Your temper had been an endless fount of amusement for me through the years, as much as you have been an invaluable
help.-
- If are you trying to trick me into welcome twelve dwarves and a… hobbit again, you're destined to failure.-
Mithrandir laughed.
- Sharp are the eyes of Elven, I have to concede.-
Elrond chuckled, and then watched the moon.
- Are you worried about this messenger lady?- in Mithrandir's tone it was awaiting a world of teasing, and Elrond looked at
him back sternly, trying and failing to make that blue eyes stop dancing merrily.
- Sharp are the magician's tongues.-
- They are, indeed.- Mithrandir shrugged, and leaned to Elrond, his face holding mischief.- Tell me about her. How is she?
Gondor women are very strict about themselves. I can't believe Denethor is using one of them as a messenger. He has
thousands of willing soldiers and riders. It must be quite an interesting story and a very interesting lady, too.-
- Well, she is…- Elrond thought, and then a tiny smile appeared.- I can't count well the years of men, but she is quite young,
younger than Estel. She has flame colored hair, almost golden long to her thighs with whirling curls in the ends, and blue eyes
as pale as the water. She is taller than Arwen, almost my height, and has the body of a rider. – his tone softened, after the
cold recount of her appearance.- She has been very well educated: she was perfectly comfortable in our etiquette, as she
seems to be between the dwarves, or Lorien, or anywhere she goes. Its like she could fit just anywhere. I suppose she had
fluently in all that languages: she speaks Sindarin as one of us, and she nodded to the use of Quenya words. It's a pleasure to
talk to her. And she is really interested in elves. - Elrond then came to a stop, and smiled finally.- But that's not all about her.
She looked young and carefree as a little girl, always smiling and joking, and then can be calm and serious. There is
nonchalance, a light of joy in her that is refreshing and marvelous to see. But I see a deep inner restlessness too, I can see
something she searches for, something bothering her inside, but I can't name it still. She is bold and has one of the sharper
tongues I've heard, more shocking for her otherwise impeccable manners. But she surprises me, and that is something I've
missed so much. Since Isildur and Ereinion…- his voice trailed off. – I hope she it's safe. This age is dark enough, eager to
choke joy and freedom as did choked them.-
-Your daughter Arwen spoke very highly of her. But she doesn't looked as worried as you.- he added.
- Yes, but she has her mind elsewhere tonight.- Elrond ended sourly, watching intently the human prince.- Why has it has to be
so cute, the little devil?-
- Excuse me?- Mithrandir exploded in a fit of roaring laughter.
- Nothing.-
Mithrandir lifted his eyes to the sky, and said matter-of-factly.
- She is proud in her walk, and wears her hair up when she dresses in elven attire, isn't it?.-
- How do you know it?-
- Because there is coming the lady, right to us.- Mithrandir grinned. Elrond looked into the garden and saw her, quick and
determined steps between the floating wandering the Elves did, a long, straight blue robe caressing the grass as she walked to
the steps in front of the bower. She bowed, then straightened herself looking right into Elrond's eyes with a shining smile.
- Good evening, my lord Elrond. My lord Mithrandir, I'm so glad to have meet you at end.-
- And I am pleased you managed to arrive tonight, Arien.- said Elrond warmly.- Please, enjoy yourself.-
- Couldn't do less in such a fair company.- she bowed again.- But I'm here as an announcer, my lord. I hurried though the
road to Rivendel to tell you the Lord and Lady of Lorien and the Lord of the Mirkwood are arriving. –
- They are…? - Elrond stood, and quickly walked down the steps, smile in his face.- Those are wonderful news. Nothing could
make this night shone brighter, so.-
And it was true: exclamations of joy and songs broke free, and the road to Rivendel lightened as a moon had born there, as the
riding company of Lorien and the Mirkwood came together into beautiful confusion. There was Lord Celeborn, tall and
majestic, silver hair in the wind and a star in his forehead, wise and powerful, his sharp eyes bright in happiness, his mantle of
dark gold. And then the Lady Galadriel, white as milk, a white star in her finger, lace light as moonlight around her form, tall as
a queen, and nonetheless woman when she and Arwen embraced, morning embracing sunset. With them came Haldir, the
guard of Lorien, and numerous Sindar elves, singing and laughing. King Thranduil and his sons came behind, the King powerful
and old, his white streaked dark hair lending him wisdom. But his dark eyes were alive and young, the hand still strong in the
reins as he dismounted with the ease of a younger man and bowed to the Lord of Imladris, green-forest robes embroidered in
black and gold suiting the emerald crown of Mirkwood well. His three sons, young and beautiful bowed too, their young faces
showing the amazement of joy of finally meeting the Elven house mentioned in so many songs, and his Lord. It was a happy
reunion of family kept apart too many years, and the starts shone brightly that night over Rivendel as the Elves thanked
Elbereth for their joy.
- And it seems the elves forgot hospitality a bit when they get together.- Mithrandir chuckled as she stood next to Arien,
forgotten near the bower.
- Oh, no, Lord Mithrandir. To see them together is the greatest present I could receive. They're like something I've dreamed.
But so many fair people with legendary names here right in front of my eyes are too marvelous to be described. It was a
scene I've would double my travels just to get a glimpse of.-
- You are, just as Elrond said, very courteous.- Mithrandir shrugged.- But I'm not a Lord, and you are a traveler that need
more sustenance than a fair view can give. Come with me, Arien of Gondor, and tell me why had you chased me around
North like a cat the mouse.-
Arien followed Mithrandir into the house, here eyes still trailing into the Elves. And as they entered the Hall, they saw a dark
haired man there, sitting near the fireplace where the flames danced, alone.
- Hm. Good to see you able to lend attention to old friends, Ranger.- Mithrandir said with a chuckle.- Would you decline a cup
of wine and some of delicate Rivendel concoctions? Since you arrived, you hadn't done anything but to ignore me to pay
attention into more nice matters.-
The man stood, and smiled. It was a tall, well muscled man, but agile and feline, dressed in white, curls of the purest black
framing a very manly, very handsome face with eyes like pools of undiluted silver. He nodded, and his gaze stopped in Arien,
before to bow.
- Oh, I'm getting old, it seems. Ranger, this is Arien of Gondor, messenger of Lord Denethor. Arien, this men is a Ranger of
the North.-
- Nice to meet you, Estel.- said Arien, composed, bowing and then offering her hand in Gondor fashion. The ranger, a second
taken aback, took it. Mithrandir's eyes shone, and then his face lit with a smile, and took one arm from each.
- Come with me, my friends. Let's eat something, three strangers in the middle of those elves. They would take long before to
remember us, I'm afraid.-
-… Lord Faramir is a nice prince, but Captain Boromir has a royal temper... I've met them less than I would like. Lord
Denethor rarely lets me stay more than a month in home. I used to live in Osgiliath, but sadly it had got deserted though the
years. We have lost to many men through the years, and we have few children.-
- Never thought of settle back and, well, contribute?- Mithrandir's chuckle made Arien laugh.
- Gandalf!- Estel looked a bit scandalized, but Arien spoke with mirth in her face.
- I would love to. But it's hard to develop a relationship since I never stay for a long while anywhere.-
- Story of my life.- Gandalf laughed in mock sadness.- Bur, dear Arien, surely you could quit traveling in order to find
happiness.-
- I have a duty to live up, my Lord. And I love to travel and met interesting places and persons.- she said gently, but averted
her eyes. Estel and Gandalf shared a look, but they didn't have chance of say anything else. They heard soft footsteps, and in
the twin doors of the Hall of Fire where they sat, wine in hand, the fireplace casting warm shadows and staying in Arien's hair
appeared the Lord of the House, followed by his fair daughter, blue and red.
- We were wondering where you were, Mithrandir.- Elrond said with a sigh. – I almost thought you had left.-
- We were only enjoying a bit of Elves-free time, for a while.- Gandalf said, looking a bit annoyed at the interruption. – Estel
and me where just meeting this nice young lady you forgot to introduce to us.-
Elrond had the grace to look embarrassed.
- I'm sorry, Arien. I forgot. Now, would you come? The feast is going to start.-
- Coming.- Gandalf stood, leaving his goblet with a sigh.- Arien, would you let this old man escort you to the table?-
- With the utmost pleasure, my lord Gandalf.-
- Arien, I'm not a Lord. Call me that again and I'll turn you into a frog.-
As Estel escorted Arwen, Elrond followed, hearing them laugh. And suddenly, he felt unease. What was that feeling in his
heart? It was fear?
- Arien always have beautiful songs for me.- Arwen smiled later, sitting with Thranduil's sons, the guard of Lorien, Haldir,
Finvanna, Rivendel's musician, Estel and Glorfindel, and her brothers outside, after a very joyful feast. They have been singing
and playing, the sky over them in her deeper midnight getting even bluer, and the radiance from the house making long golden
hues dance in the grass. From the bower they sat, they could saw Arien leaning over the railing of terrace, talking to
Mithrandir very seriously, and then nodding.
- But she seemed too busy. Mithrandir hadn't left her loose for the entire night.- Estel said with a smile.- She carried important
news from Gondor, news I would like to hear.-
- Maybe the old man is smitten.- Elladan, with a impish grin shook his head.
- Elladan! Shame on you!-
- Why?-
- The Istaris do not… well, you know!- Elrohir was truly scandalized.
- So there's no little Istaris? – the younger son of Thranduil, Legolas, opened wide eyes.
- Come one, Elrohir, how do you think they grew, like mushrooms?-
- Love is a very splendid thing.- Estel sentenced.
- But isn't too old for her?-
- Old? Yes, just like you are too old for her, Elrohir. What are a few centuries for love?-
- Elladan, shut up.-
- * giggle* sorry, sister.- Elladan still laughed under Estel's glare as Arwen went to collect Arien, right in the moment when
Elrond came from the house to join the conversation between the magician and the messenger.
- No, I can't consent it.- she shook her curls as Elrond suggested to Mithrandir and Arien to go inside with the rest of the
elves.- No, father, I have to disagree. We invited them to a party and all they have done is talk about duty. We're being very
un-hospitalary.-
- Please don't worry, Lady Arwen.-
Mithrandir nodded, even after Arien's denial.- Yes, this old man had been quite rude, but this lady had seen and heard so many
things I'm afraid her conversation was so attractive to me like a mine to a dwarf. My apologies, and please enjoy yourself in
what it rest of the party. We can keep discussing this tomorrow morning.-
- Of course, Mithrandir.- Arien nodded, even being dragged away for a laughing Arwen, who had took her hand.
- Great. My daughter stole Saruman's voice from us to make it sing love songs.- Elrond added sourly, watching the red and
blue hues disappear into the bower.
- You sounds aggravated.- said Mithrandir, smirking.
- Oh, quit with that.-
- Are Galadriel and Thranduil agreeing with you about attacking in the winter?-
- Yes, they are. We'll be forging plans with Thranduil tomorrow. And I hope she could represent Saruman between us,
because I would not wait one more day.-
- Always the impatient, Peredhil.-
- That's something I thank to my mixed heritage. Not so hotheaded as the men, nor so lazy as elves. And about impatience,
you aren't one to talk.-
- I know.- Gandalf smiled, apologetic.- Well. Let's plan how to get that Nazgul out of Thranduil's forest.-
He's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky
- Her voice is amazing.- said Gandalf with a smile. – But I've never had listened that song before. It is elvish, isn't it?-
- Yes.- Elrond smiled, still in the terrace, hearing the song. A whisper and a sparkle: Celeborn had joined them, his silver hair
covering a still young face where old eyes that had seen the ages pass through like old dreams still shone alive and sweet.
Celeborn was peaceful and calm, deep knowledge that made him Elrohir's beloved teacher, as Elladan preferred Glorfindel's
battle skills better, and Galadriel was Arwen's model.
- That song… I haven't heard it in ages, since the fall of the fair Doriath.- he said, eyes closed into happy memories. And
Elrond, looking at him, suddenly remembered. He had heard it too, long, long time ago, in his childhood memories where
everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…
Now and then when I see his face
He takes me away to that special place
Yes, she did… though Elrond in shock. It wasn't only her voice or the song: everything in her took him to a place he only
knew in his very first memories. A place hidden between silver hays…
A voice…
Why she reminds me my father so much…?
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
Elrond touched his own cheeks.
Why this melancholy of lost things? Why this… sadness…?
Why I can't remember…? Why is she so familiar…?
- I've heard that voice before.- said Celeborn. But I don't remember… must have been so young.-
Elrond stared. Celeborn, young?
Oh, Sweet child of mine
Oh, Sweet love of mine
The sounds of lauds and flutes called everybody into the bower soon after: Galadriel smiled and took her husband's
hand as Finvanna, Haldir and other elves started one of her favorite melodies, Goodbye to Our Fortune. It was slow, and
dreamy, but with a deep, hypnotic rhythm that made one of the most loved songs of Noldor, songs they had sung and danced in
Doriath, in Gondolin, in Nargothrond, in Laurenlindonan, in Lindon and Eregion. And in the Eressea's grass too at the Light Of
The Trees, because it was a song older that stars, composed like a soft whine and a hope for Miriel herself in the time of her
sadness.
Now, as Luthien had danced it for Beren, Arwen danced, her hand in Estel's, floating in the grass. Galadriel offered her hand
to Celeborn, who joined to the dance, making her float in his arms with a knowledge that came from deja vu of thousand years
ago. It was the slow lament of Elves, who danced it with their hearts…
We are waning.
And there's still so much to do…
The youngest song of Thranduil danced with an elf maiden: Elrohir, who danced too with a grace unknown since Finrod's time
was spinning slowly and smiling to his partner, a lady of Mirkwood.
And Elrond watched an indescribable look in his eyes. What are you thinking, Star'son? My lost daughter? Our
melancholy? Do you feel it too, half-Elven, or are you spared from that feeling? Do you miss our glory you were the
last in meet, or you miss the glory of love?
- Would you honor me with this dance, my Lord?- Elrond almost felt his face fell. Elven ladies didn't take her partners into
dance. Except that, of course she wasn't elfish.
Especially in the mirth in her face as she waited, a smirk at his speechless stare.
Elrond was still looking for a suitable excuse when the song came to an end. He smiled pleasantly, and spoke lightly.
- Very honored, Lady Arien…- but oh, so bad, song has ended, oh oh oh was he ready to tell when a quick laud broke his
thought, and FROZE his smile.
That blasted sharp ear of Haldir, because Finvanna doesn't have the balls to, surely.
They heard me!
The group now were starting the quick, enveloping, sensual primal joy of With Short Notice, a song composed long ago for the
passionate Maglor. And Arien was still waiting, hand extended.
Wouldn't know better I've had thought you are in game with my disgraceful sons to make me squirm, you grinning
messenger.
With a sigh, he surrendered. And any thought he had of getting this one away from teaching Arien was dispatched seeing her
spin and move in perfect synch with the quick music, following the intricate Elven dancing. Arwen danced too, as Legolas,
Estel, some ladies, and he almost fel into his face seeing Thranduil whirling and clapping as the rest. Galadriel had a teasing
grin: Celeborn stifled his laughter, and let's don't start with Elrohir's face. But he, feeling more than slightly stupid, danced
with one hand in Estel's and other in Elrohir, made the complicate foot play needed, whirled, clapped, and jumped, seeing
Arien, Arwen and Galadriel doing her part with the utmost grace, changed pairings, clapped again, bowed, and back again. But
in a moment he was circling Arwen as Estel circled Arien, as he saw Elrohir circling his Grandmother, he had a strange
sensation.
It's like old.
Why it feels so good?
There was no major difference between her and the feeling of any other elf lady's hand.
Whirling…
Her blue robe mixed with Arwen's red dress as they made a hand in hand step, then with Galadriel's sparkling white lace.
Galadriel's eyes was shining, her prophetic eyes fixed in the Gondor lady, and then, for a moment, Elrond felt those piercing
eyes in him.
What does he knows? What is she trying to tell me?
He lost the synch. And of course, because couldn't be other way, Estel, doing the complicate footwork and eyes fixed in
Arwen's smile, stepped on his toe with his big, bad, Men's foot.
*!*
(sound of Elven pain)
* Laughter*
**LAUGTHER**
The feeling of his swollen toe didn't improved a single bit Elrond's humor next day, as they sat in the terrace, Estel sitting far,
faraway of him, looking very sorry, in contrast to the rest of the table, that looked very smug.
A bell sound, in the distance.
Arien was sat across of him, next Gandalf, her black robe of Gondor a bit thick for summer. She looked fresh, anyway, her
hair up, and her eyes clear. There was Thranduil and his sons, near Elrond's own, and Mithrandir, Celeborn and Galadriel hand
in hand in one end of the table. Círdan of Mithlond was there too, eyes calm, as always hating violence but ready to defend his
kind, the silver hair short, the dark tunic water-colored pooling around him like the waves his heart was part of. He stood there,
apart in a way as he always did, and his eyes shone with a fire different at usual elves, and with him the triad of power of the
elves was complete: Rivendel, Lorien, Mithlond. The place to heal, the place to sleep, the place to say goodbye.
It was a beautiful morning, shiny and fresh, the sky so blue and pale as Arien's eyes as the sun had arisen clear and
gold. The trees around then whispered with the Bruinen, hidden as always, present as the flow of silver keeping Rivendel from
being stained, damaged, for enemy hands and for the time itself.
It was time.
Elrond spoke softly, not ordering, nor asking, only revealing what he was ready to do. The Three would chase the darkness out
of Dol Guldor, in the middle of winter, and everybody can help or doesn't help at his or her whim. Mithrandir agreed, saying
they had waited too much. Círdan objected, oppose as always to involve in violence, but then nodded. Thranduil was
enthusiastic and grateful, even if he let fall some acid remark about how the help could have came much sooner.
Elrond swallowed his reproaches: he had the right to. It was that feeling in his gut, urging him to put hands to work like he
hadn't felt from the Last Alliance. It was like someone shouting Now or it would be too late…
Of all of them, the one who hadn't spoken when the bell rings again, at lunch's time, it was Arien, representing Saruman.
- Arien? Something to say, please? –
- We need to know the thoughts of the White Lord, Lady Arien.- added Celeborn, and Galadriel looked at him with a funny
face. Elrond couldn't help but gave her a warm smile. Do we need? The both had always more love for Mithrandir, the
simple, than for the complicate Saruman.
- I'll inform of all I've heard here, my Lords.- she said humbly.- I'm not an ambassador, I'm only a messenger. But if
everybody is agreeing and ready, I don't think The White Lord wouldn't oppose to your wills. At this mighty decision, I think
he would give you your full support. If he has something to say, I dare say I'll be back here with the message in early autumn.
Elrond smiled. Finally, the end of the watching peace.
- And your sire of Gondor, Arien?-
- Oh.- her face lightened, and she let drop her serious, pensive face.- He would be delighted to know someone else is doing
the fighting.-
Some laughs, some grins. The pride of Minas Tirith had always gained a respectful nod from them.
- So be it.- Elrond said.- Mornie utulie: it's time to make it morning.-
The bell rings for a last time, and was silent. Elrond looked at Galadriel, who nodded, and to Círdan, that gave him a resigned
nod.
Then he looked back to Arien, standing there tall, and respectful, quiet with sun in her hair.
They had decided to chase away the Shadow, and suddenly, he knew Arien wasn't thinking in it. It was naked need, deep
longing in her face.
What is what she was staring at…?
- So you'll come back as soon as Saruman makes his mind, so?- Elrond said later, as Arien prepared to jump onto her saddle,
Gondor clothes gone for fresh white shirt and trousers. She had a bag with Rivendel delicacies Arwen had collected for her,
and letters from Celeborn, Elrond and Mithrandir to Saruman, as a pure-breed horse she looked ready and anxious to flee. But
it was still a deep longing there, and as she looked to his eyes, Elrond knew she didn't wanted to left the Valley.
- Yes, my Lord.-
- Arien, ride safely.-
- I know the letters and the message are quite important, my Lord. I promise I'll be fast and safe.-
- I'm talking about your safety too, young lady.-
She… blushed?
- Thank you, Lord Elrond.-
- Arien…- Elrond would have wanted Mithrandir next to him, to evaluate her, he whom has eyes sharper than blades, able to
know.- … will you tell me someday what is tormenting you?-
Caught. Deny and guilt n her eyes.
- Arien…?-
Suddenly, eyes full of tears.
- Namarie, my lord.- she said, bowing. And she left, the black Elfaroth quick as a whisper, leaving into noon.
I made you cry. Oh, sweet child of mine, I didn't intend to…
… What is troubling you so much, hunting your clear eyes? What is it? There is something I can do for you?
Just tell me.
And we didn't left you time to enjoy yourself in my library, as I have promised you!
- Saruman's word or not, I hope to see that lady again soon.- Mithrandir said, behind him.- And maybe, Elrond, we could
chase away that shadow in her eyes.-
- You saw it too?- Elrond stared into the Istari, who had a red jewel in his hand as Círdan of Mithlond stood by his side.
It is…?
It was fire in the eyes of the wizard.
- I'm going to Dol Guldor.- the Istari said, eyes ablaze.- And the third will be the last time.-
Sweet Child Of Mine
© Gun's Roses.
An Elrond Romance
by The Fox.
Chapter Three
From Fornost
Sweet Child Of Mine.
MidSummer Night
The air itself looked more translucent, more brilliant under the stars over Rivendel that night, the sky over them
immense and perfect in a blanket of thousands of stars, piercingly silver and clear. The black sapphire blanket shone reflected
in the streams surrounding the valley, like little silver candles flickering just slightly. And thousands of tiny elven magic lamps
shone hanging like colored tiny stars in the trees, the buildings, the roof of the house, and too in the fresh garden where the
people talked and enjoyed themselves in Elrond's hospitality, admiringly appraising the magical appearance of the Last Homely
house. The light was silver and soft: the music, sweet arpeggios in worship to Elbereth.
Elrond itself was there in the bower, a royal blue tunic enveloping his lean form, embroidered with a line of waves and stars
across the chest. He wore the circlet of Imladris, and the blue ring rested in his finger, his shine alive like another star. He
wore his hair cascading down his shoulders in shades of midnight, and smiled, talking to the ancient man in gray in his right,
whose long gray hair was sparkled by the stars into silver. The old man looked strong: strong and powerful as the storm, but as
gentle as the summer breeze gracing the fair valley. He smiled, even over worried, flashing eyes, and his smile looked enough
to give assurance to the scared ones around Mid Earth. And even if his deep, grumpy words contrasted with the clear, soft
tones of the Lord Of Rivendel, they looked as much at ease as two old friends in a meeting very well waited. And as they
smiled over silver goblets full of a sunny wine, they looked strangely alike.
At Elrond's side sat Arwen, her ample and delicate red gown like the petals of a summer rose opening around her
unforgettable eyes. She listened at Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel and Estel's conversation, which had forsaken their serious talk
about the darkening of the wild lands for her sake, and were playing like children and laughing like it wasn't any worry in the
world. And in fact it was impossible to worry or to be sad under that shining blue sky, under those elven stars, with the Fair
people moving under the trees. It was almost like the air itself was one from a happier age that they could conjure into life by
their sole wish for mortal eyes to contemplate.
The music was soft and enveloping: it a lost poem of love and peace and goodbye, and Elrond watched with shadowed
eyes his daughter dancing in the arms of his foster son. The young human looked noble, almost Elfish in his white attire, his
black untamable hair waving as he spoke animatedly, the long white arms of Arwen lifted as her tiny white hands rested in the
darker, bigger, but so sure hands of the Ranger.
- Elrond…?-
- Excuse me, Mithrandir. What were you saying?-
- So this girl wasn't supposed to come back with the answers? We need to know what Galadriel and Thranduil would say.- he
sighed tiredly, but smiled.- I can't help but feel relieved. Even against the judgement of Saruman, the highest Istari of my
order, I'm happy to see the Mid Earth finally take action against the darkness. All my instincts had been yelling at me for too
long.-
- My patience was wearing thin too, my old friend, and you know what it happens when I receive direct orders from
somebody, even if he is the head of the White Council. –
- Your temper had been an endless fount of amusement for me through the years, as much as you have been an invaluable
help.-
- If are you trying to trick me into welcome twelve dwarves and a… hobbit again, you're destined to failure.-
Mithrandir laughed.
- Sharp are the eyes of Elven, I have to concede.-
Elrond chuckled, and then watched the moon.
- Are you worried about this messenger lady?- in Mithrandir's tone it was awaiting a world of teasing, and Elrond looked at
him back sternly, trying and failing to make that blue eyes stop dancing merrily.
- Sharp are the magician's tongues.-
- They are, indeed.- Mithrandir shrugged, and leaned to Elrond, his face holding mischief.- Tell me about her. How is she?
Gondor women are very strict about themselves. I can't believe Denethor is using one of them as a messenger. He has
thousands of willing soldiers and riders. It must be quite an interesting story and a very interesting lady, too.-
- Well, she is…- Elrond thought, and then a tiny smile appeared.- I can't count well the years of men, but she is quite young,
younger than Estel. She has flame colored hair, almost golden long to her thighs with whirling curls in the ends, and blue eyes
as pale as the water. She is taller than Arwen, almost my height, and has the body of a rider. – his tone softened, after the
cold recount of her appearance.- She has been very well educated: she was perfectly comfortable in our etiquette, as she
seems to be between the dwarves, or Lorien, or anywhere she goes. Its like she could fit just anywhere. I suppose she had
fluently in all that languages: she speaks Sindarin as one of us, and she nodded to the use of Quenya words. It's a pleasure to
talk to her. And she is really interested in elves. - Elrond then came to a stop, and smiled finally.- But that's not all about her.
She looked young and carefree as a little girl, always smiling and joking, and then can be calm and serious. There is
nonchalance, a light of joy in her that is refreshing and marvelous to see. But I see a deep inner restlessness too, I can see
something she searches for, something bothering her inside, but I can't name it still. She is bold and has one of the sharper
tongues I've heard, more shocking for her otherwise impeccable manners. But she surprises me, and that is something I've
missed so much. Since Isildur and Ereinion…- his voice trailed off. – I hope she it's safe. This age is dark enough, eager to
choke joy and freedom as did choked them.-
-Your daughter Arwen spoke very highly of her. But she doesn't looked as worried as you.- he added.
- Yes, but she has her mind elsewhere tonight.- Elrond ended sourly, watching intently the human prince.- Why has it has to be
so cute, the little devil?-
- Excuse me?- Mithrandir exploded in a fit of roaring laughter.
- Nothing.-
Mithrandir lifted his eyes to the sky, and said matter-of-factly.
- She is proud in her walk, and wears her hair up when she dresses in elven attire, isn't it?.-
- How do you know it?-
- Because there is coming the lady, right to us.- Mithrandir grinned. Elrond looked into the garden and saw her, quick and
determined steps between the floating wandering the Elves did, a long, straight blue robe caressing the grass as she walked to
the steps in front of the bower. She bowed, then straightened herself looking right into Elrond's eyes with a shining smile.
- Good evening, my lord Elrond. My lord Mithrandir, I'm so glad to have meet you at end.-
- And I am pleased you managed to arrive tonight, Arien.- said Elrond warmly.- Please, enjoy yourself.-
- Couldn't do less in such a fair company.- she bowed again.- But I'm here as an announcer, my lord. I hurried though the
road to Rivendel to tell you the Lord and Lady of Lorien and the Lord of the Mirkwood are arriving. –
- They are…? - Elrond stood, and quickly walked down the steps, smile in his face.- Those are wonderful news. Nothing could
make this night shone brighter, so.-
And it was true: exclamations of joy and songs broke free, and the road to Rivendel lightened as a moon had born there, as the
riding company of Lorien and the Mirkwood came together into beautiful confusion. There was Lord Celeborn, tall and
majestic, silver hair in the wind and a star in his forehead, wise and powerful, his sharp eyes bright in happiness, his mantle of
dark gold. And then the Lady Galadriel, white as milk, a white star in her finger, lace light as moonlight around her form, tall as
a queen, and nonetheless woman when she and Arwen embraced, morning embracing sunset. With them came Haldir, the
guard of Lorien, and numerous Sindar elves, singing and laughing. King Thranduil and his sons came behind, the King powerful
and old, his white streaked dark hair lending him wisdom. But his dark eyes were alive and young, the hand still strong in the
reins as he dismounted with the ease of a younger man and bowed to the Lord of Imladris, green-forest robes embroidered in
black and gold suiting the emerald crown of Mirkwood well. His three sons, young and beautiful bowed too, their young faces
showing the amazement of joy of finally meeting the Elven house mentioned in so many songs, and his Lord. It was a happy
reunion of family kept apart too many years, and the starts shone brightly that night over Rivendel as the Elves thanked
Elbereth for their joy.
- And it seems the elves forgot hospitality a bit when they get together.- Mithrandir chuckled as she stood next to Arien,
forgotten near the bower.
- Oh, no, Lord Mithrandir. To see them together is the greatest present I could receive. They're like something I've dreamed.
But so many fair people with legendary names here right in front of my eyes are too marvelous to be described. It was a
scene I've would double my travels just to get a glimpse of.-
- You are, just as Elrond said, very courteous.- Mithrandir shrugged.- But I'm not a Lord, and you are a traveler that need
more sustenance than a fair view can give. Come with me, Arien of Gondor, and tell me why had you chased me around
North like a cat the mouse.-
Arien followed Mithrandir into the house, here eyes still trailing into the Elves. And as they entered the Hall, they saw a dark
haired man there, sitting near the fireplace where the flames danced, alone.
- Hm. Good to see you able to lend attention to old friends, Ranger.- Mithrandir said with a chuckle.- Would you decline a cup
of wine and some of delicate Rivendel concoctions? Since you arrived, you hadn't done anything but to ignore me to pay
attention into more nice matters.-
The man stood, and smiled. It was a tall, well muscled man, but agile and feline, dressed in white, curls of the purest black
framing a very manly, very handsome face with eyes like pools of undiluted silver. He nodded, and his gaze stopped in Arien,
before to bow.
- Oh, I'm getting old, it seems. Ranger, this is Arien of Gondor, messenger of Lord Denethor. Arien, this men is a Ranger of
the North.-
- Nice to meet you, Estel.- said Arien, composed, bowing and then offering her hand in Gondor fashion. The ranger, a second
taken aback, took it. Mithrandir's eyes shone, and then his face lit with a smile, and took one arm from each.
- Come with me, my friends. Let's eat something, three strangers in the middle of those elves. They would take long before to
remember us, I'm afraid.-
-… Lord Faramir is a nice prince, but Captain Boromir has a royal temper... I've met them less than I would like. Lord
Denethor rarely lets me stay more than a month in home. I used to live in Osgiliath, but sadly it had got deserted though the
years. We have lost to many men through the years, and we have few children.-
- Never thought of settle back and, well, contribute?- Mithrandir's chuckle made Arien laugh.
- Gandalf!- Estel looked a bit scandalized, but Arien spoke with mirth in her face.
- I would love to. But it's hard to develop a relationship since I never stay for a long while anywhere.-
- Story of my life.- Gandalf laughed in mock sadness.- Bur, dear Arien, surely you could quit traveling in order to find
happiness.-
- I have a duty to live up, my Lord. And I love to travel and met interesting places and persons.- she said gently, but averted
her eyes. Estel and Gandalf shared a look, but they didn't have chance of say anything else. They heard soft footsteps, and in
the twin doors of the Hall of Fire where they sat, wine in hand, the fireplace casting warm shadows and staying in Arien's hair
appeared the Lord of the House, followed by his fair daughter, blue and red.
- We were wondering where you were, Mithrandir.- Elrond said with a sigh. – I almost thought you had left.-
- We were only enjoying a bit of Elves-free time, for a while.- Gandalf said, looking a bit annoyed at the interruption. – Estel
and me where just meeting this nice young lady you forgot to introduce to us.-
Elrond had the grace to look embarrassed.
- I'm sorry, Arien. I forgot. Now, would you come? The feast is going to start.-
- Coming.- Gandalf stood, leaving his goblet with a sigh.- Arien, would you let this old man escort you to the table?-
- With the utmost pleasure, my lord Gandalf.-
- Arien, I'm not a Lord. Call me that again and I'll turn you into a frog.-
As Estel escorted Arwen, Elrond followed, hearing them laugh. And suddenly, he felt unease. What was that feeling in his
heart? It was fear?
- Arien always have beautiful songs for me.- Arwen smiled later, sitting with Thranduil's sons, the guard of Lorien, Haldir,
Finvanna, Rivendel's musician, Estel and Glorfindel, and her brothers outside, after a very joyful feast. They have been singing
and playing, the sky over them in her deeper midnight getting even bluer, and the radiance from the house making long golden
hues dance in the grass. From the bower they sat, they could saw Arien leaning over the railing of terrace, talking to
Mithrandir very seriously, and then nodding.
- But she seemed too busy. Mithrandir hadn't left her loose for the entire night.- Estel said with a smile.- She carried important
news from Gondor, news I would like to hear.-
- Maybe the old man is smitten.- Elladan, with a impish grin shook his head.
- Elladan! Shame on you!-
- Why?-
- The Istaris do not… well, you know!- Elrohir was truly scandalized.
- So there's no little Istaris? – the younger son of Thranduil, Legolas, opened wide eyes.
- Come one, Elrohir, how do you think they grew, like mushrooms?-
- Love is a very splendid thing.- Estel sentenced.
- But isn't too old for her?-
- Old? Yes, just like you are too old for her, Elrohir. What are a few centuries for love?-
- Elladan, shut up.-
- * giggle* sorry, sister.- Elladan still laughed under Estel's glare as Arwen went to collect Arien, right in the moment when
Elrond came from the house to join the conversation between the magician and the messenger.
- No, I can't consent it.- she shook her curls as Elrond suggested to Mithrandir and Arien to go inside with the rest of the
elves.- No, father, I have to disagree. We invited them to a party and all they have done is talk about duty. We're being very
un-hospitalary.-
- Please don't worry, Lady Arwen.-
Mithrandir nodded, even after Arien's denial.- Yes, this old man had been quite rude, but this lady had seen and heard so many
things I'm afraid her conversation was so attractive to me like a mine to a dwarf. My apologies, and please enjoy yourself in
what it rest of the party. We can keep discussing this tomorrow morning.-
- Of course, Mithrandir.- Arien nodded, even being dragged away for a laughing Arwen, who had took her hand.
- Great. My daughter stole Saruman's voice from us to make it sing love songs.- Elrond added sourly, watching the red and
blue hues disappear into the bower.
- You sounds aggravated.- said Mithrandir, smirking.
- Oh, quit with that.-
- Are Galadriel and Thranduil agreeing with you about attacking in the winter?-
- Yes, they are. We'll be forging plans with Thranduil tomorrow. And I hope she could represent Saruman between us,
because I would not wait one more day.-
- Always the impatient, Peredhil.-
- That's something I thank to my mixed heritage. Not so hotheaded as the men, nor so lazy as elves. And about impatience,
you aren't one to talk.-
- I know.- Gandalf smiled, apologetic.- Well. Let's plan how to get that Nazgul out of Thranduil's forest.-
He's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky
- Her voice is amazing.- said Gandalf with a smile. – But I've never had listened that song before. It is elvish, isn't it?-
- Yes.- Elrond smiled, still in the terrace, hearing the song. A whisper and a sparkle: Celeborn had joined them, his silver hair
covering a still young face where old eyes that had seen the ages pass through like old dreams still shone alive and sweet.
Celeborn was peaceful and calm, deep knowledge that made him Elrohir's beloved teacher, as Elladan preferred Glorfindel's
battle skills better, and Galadriel was Arwen's model.
- That song… I haven't heard it in ages, since the fall of the fair Doriath.- he said, eyes closed into happy memories. And
Elrond, looking at him, suddenly remembered. He had heard it too, long, long time ago, in his childhood memories where
everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…
Now and then when I see his face
He takes me away to that special place
Yes, she did… though Elrond in shock. It wasn't only her voice or the song: everything in her took him to a place he only
knew in his very first memories. A place hidden between silver hays…
A voice…
Why she reminds me my father so much…?
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
Elrond touched his own cheeks.
Why this melancholy of lost things? Why this… sadness…?
Why I can't remember…? Why is she so familiar…?
- I've heard that voice before.- said Celeborn. But I don't remember… must have been so young.-
Elrond stared. Celeborn, young?
Oh, Sweet child of mine
Oh, Sweet love of mine
The sounds of lauds and flutes called everybody into the bower soon after: Galadriel smiled and took her husband's
hand as Finvanna, Haldir and other elves started one of her favorite melodies, Goodbye to Our Fortune. It was slow, and
dreamy, but with a deep, hypnotic rhythm that made one of the most loved songs of Noldor, songs they had sung and danced in
Doriath, in Gondolin, in Nargothrond, in Laurenlindonan, in Lindon and Eregion. And in the Eressea's grass too at the Light Of
The Trees, because it was a song older that stars, composed like a soft whine and a hope for Miriel herself in the time of her
sadness.
Now, as Luthien had danced it for Beren, Arwen danced, her hand in Estel's, floating in the grass. Galadriel offered her hand
to Celeborn, who joined to the dance, making her float in his arms with a knowledge that came from deja vu of thousand years
ago. It was the slow lament of Elves, who danced it with their hearts…
We are waning.
And there's still so much to do…
The youngest song of Thranduil danced with an elf maiden: Elrohir, who danced too with a grace unknown since Finrod's time
was spinning slowly and smiling to his partner, a lady of Mirkwood.
And Elrond watched an indescribable look in his eyes. What are you thinking, Star'son? My lost daughter? Our
melancholy? Do you feel it too, half-Elven, or are you spared from that feeling? Do you miss our glory you were the
last in meet, or you miss the glory of love?
- Would you honor me with this dance, my Lord?- Elrond almost felt his face fell. Elven ladies didn't take her partners into
dance. Except that, of course she wasn't elfish.
Especially in the mirth in her face as she waited, a smirk at his speechless stare.
Elrond was still looking for a suitable excuse when the song came to an end. He smiled pleasantly, and spoke lightly.
- Very honored, Lady Arien…- but oh, so bad, song has ended, oh oh oh was he ready to tell when a quick laud broke his
thought, and FROZE his smile.
That blasted sharp ear of Haldir, because Finvanna doesn't have the balls to, surely.
They heard me!
The group now were starting the quick, enveloping, sensual primal joy of With Short Notice, a song composed long ago for the
passionate Maglor. And Arien was still waiting, hand extended.
Wouldn't know better I've had thought you are in game with my disgraceful sons to make me squirm, you grinning
messenger.
With a sigh, he surrendered. And any thought he had of getting this one away from teaching Arien was dispatched seeing her
spin and move in perfect synch with the quick music, following the intricate Elven dancing. Arwen danced too, as Legolas,
Estel, some ladies, and he almost fel into his face seeing Thranduil whirling and clapping as the rest. Galadriel had a teasing
grin: Celeborn stifled his laughter, and let's don't start with Elrohir's face. But he, feeling more than slightly stupid, danced
with one hand in Estel's and other in Elrohir, made the complicate foot play needed, whirled, clapped, and jumped, seeing
Arien, Arwen and Galadriel doing her part with the utmost grace, changed pairings, clapped again, bowed, and back again. But
in a moment he was circling Arwen as Estel circled Arien, as he saw Elrohir circling his Grandmother, he had a strange
sensation.
It's like old.
Why it feels so good?
There was no major difference between her and the feeling of any other elf lady's hand.
Whirling…
Her blue robe mixed with Arwen's red dress as they made a hand in hand step, then with Galadriel's sparkling white lace.
Galadriel's eyes was shining, her prophetic eyes fixed in the Gondor lady, and then, for a moment, Elrond felt those piercing
eyes in him.
What does he knows? What is she trying to tell me?
He lost the synch. And of course, because couldn't be other way, Estel, doing the complicate footwork and eyes fixed in
Arwen's smile, stepped on his toe with his big, bad, Men's foot.
*!*
(sound of Elven pain)
* Laughter*
**LAUGTHER**
The feeling of his swollen toe didn't improved a single bit Elrond's humor next day, as they sat in the terrace, Estel sitting far,
faraway of him, looking very sorry, in contrast to the rest of the table, that looked very smug.
A bell sound, in the distance.
Arien was sat across of him, next Gandalf, her black robe of Gondor a bit thick for summer. She looked fresh, anyway, her
hair up, and her eyes clear. There was Thranduil and his sons, near Elrond's own, and Mithrandir, Celeborn and Galadriel hand
in hand in one end of the table. Círdan of Mithlond was there too, eyes calm, as always hating violence but ready to defend his
kind, the silver hair short, the dark tunic water-colored pooling around him like the waves his heart was part of. He stood there,
apart in a way as he always did, and his eyes shone with a fire different at usual elves, and with him the triad of power of the
elves was complete: Rivendel, Lorien, Mithlond. The place to heal, the place to sleep, the place to say goodbye.
It was a beautiful morning, shiny and fresh, the sky so blue and pale as Arien's eyes as the sun had arisen clear and
gold. The trees around then whispered with the Bruinen, hidden as always, present as the flow of silver keeping Rivendel from
being stained, damaged, for enemy hands and for the time itself.
It was time.
Elrond spoke softly, not ordering, nor asking, only revealing what he was ready to do. The Three would chase the darkness out
of Dol Guldor, in the middle of winter, and everybody can help or doesn't help at his or her whim. Mithrandir agreed, saying
they had waited too much. Círdan objected, oppose as always to involve in violence, but then nodded. Thranduil was
enthusiastic and grateful, even if he let fall some acid remark about how the help could have came much sooner.
Elrond swallowed his reproaches: he had the right to. It was that feeling in his gut, urging him to put hands to work like he
hadn't felt from the Last Alliance. It was like someone shouting Now or it would be too late…
Of all of them, the one who hadn't spoken when the bell rings again, at lunch's time, it was Arien, representing Saruman.
- Arien? Something to say, please? –
- We need to know the thoughts of the White Lord, Lady Arien.- added Celeborn, and Galadriel looked at him with a funny
face. Elrond couldn't help but gave her a warm smile. Do we need? The both had always more love for Mithrandir, the
simple, than for the complicate Saruman.
- I'll inform of all I've heard here, my Lords.- she said humbly.- I'm not an ambassador, I'm only a messenger. But if
everybody is agreeing and ready, I don't think The White Lord wouldn't oppose to your wills. At this mighty decision, I think
he would give you your full support. If he has something to say, I dare say I'll be back here with the message in early autumn.
Elrond smiled. Finally, the end of the watching peace.
- And your sire of Gondor, Arien?-
- Oh.- her face lightened, and she let drop her serious, pensive face.- He would be delighted to know someone else is doing
the fighting.-
Some laughs, some grins. The pride of Minas Tirith had always gained a respectful nod from them.
- So be it.- Elrond said.- Mornie utulie: it's time to make it morning.-
The bell rings for a last time, and was silent. Elrond looked at Galadriel, who nodded, and to Círdan, that gave him a resigned
nod.
Then he looked back to Arien, standing there tall, and respectful, quiet with sun in her hair.
They had decided to chase away the Shadow, and suddenly, he knew Arien wasn't thinking in it. It was naked need, deep
longing in her face.
What is what she was staring at…?
- So you'll come back as soon as Saruman makes his mind, so?- Elrond said later, as Arien prepared to jump onto her saddle,
Gondor clothes gone for fresh white shirt and trousers. She had a bag with Rivendel delicacies Arwen had collected for her,
and letters from Celeborn, Elrond and Mithrandir to Saruman, as a pure-breed horse she looked ready and anxious to flee. But
it was still a deep longing there, and as she looked to his eyes, Elrond knew she didn't wanted to left the Valley.
- Yes, my Lord.-
- Arien, ride safely.-
- I know the letters and the message are quite important, my Lord. I promise I'll be fast and safe.-
- I'm talking about your safety too, young lady.-
She… blushed?
- Thank you, Lord Elrond.-
- Arien…- Elrond would have wanted Mithrandir next to him, to evaluate her, he whom has eyes sharper than blades, able to
know.- … will you tell me someday what is tormenting you?-
Caught. Deny and guilt n her eyes.
- Arien…?-
Suddenly, eyes full of tears.
- Namarie, my lord.- she said, bowing. And she left, the black Elfaroth quick as a whisper, leaving into noon.
I made you cry. Oh, sweet child of mine, I didn't intend to…
… What is troubling you so much, hunting your clear eyes? What is it? There is something I can do for you?
Just tell me.
And we didn't left you time to enjoy yourself in my library, as I have promised you!
- Saruman's word or not, I hope to see that lady again soon.- Mithrandir said, behind him.- And maybe, Elrond, we could
chase away that shadow in her eyes.-
- You saw it too?- Elrond stared into the Istari, who had a red jewel in his hand as Círdan of Mithlond stood by his side.
It is…?
It was fire in the eyes of the wizard.
- I'm going to Dol Guldor.- the Istari said, eyes ablaze.- And the third will be the last time.-
Sweet Child Of Mine
© Gun's Roses.