An Elrond Romance
by The Fox.
Chapter Nine
From Lorien
Aniron
MidSpring
The spring had finally pleased all her promises. It were a shining bed of flowers covering in brilliant colors from the
same steps of Rivendel till the further end of the hills. Vibrant blue, pale lavender, shy pink, blood red, golden yellow, green as
emeralds bathing everyplace, reflecting in the Bruinen into a magical world of color under pale, sleepy blue sky. The bees
worked hurriedly with strangely loud bzz: even the butterflies invading Rivendel looked more lively, more bright than the usual.
And Arwen, Lady of Imladris, had a good idea why this spring looked so brilliant in Rivendel, even with the time strangely cold
for the end of spring.
- Father?-
- Yes, my dear?-
The books has been forgotten: Arwen didn't complain, knowing how many years they had enslaved his father, even away
from her. Elrond came from a ride in his white stallion, hair still in disarray, his braids loose and lost, his face colored by the
exercise, a mysterious smile in his lips, a hidden sadness in his eyes that spoke of life. Arwen felt his hands, cold and harsh
from the long forgotten reins, taking hers.
- You're in very good mood since the unfreezing.-
- Yes.- he nodded, letting his mantle in a chair and going to stand in his balcony, letting the wind play with his hair and clothes
as it played with the parchment in his desk.
- Father, where is Arien? Why she hadn't come? Did you two fight?- she spoke softly, even if her eyes where intently in the
broad shoulders of her father, whom had become very still.
Elrond slowly turned a strange smile in his face.
- I do not fight anyone, my dear… except maybe with Estel- he added after a thought.- But I certainly hope she would come
soon. We had some… unfinished dialogues I would like to finish.- he said coolly.
I wish, no more tears
To come soon
In this night I want you, I need you
I can unfold my wings
And flap the best I could
But I'm still, still for your love.
- Elrohir, SHUT UP!- he bellowed from his same place, starting Arwen. Elrohir, who had been singing very loudlessly,
cringed, in the veranda, at the other side of the house.
Elrond leaned in the balcony after the howl, and passed a hand through his hair with a gesture of exasperation so unlike him, so
messy and ungraceful, Arwen for a moment stared in disbelief.
And suddenly, her eyes widening, she recognized that gesture. It was typical from Estel when he was waiting for her to
appear, a gesture she enjoyed peeping, hidden, giggling as the tiny piece of truly evil girls are.
He is restless.
He is… in love with her? Father?
- Oh, come on, 'Wen. You have been reading too much of those lurid elven novels that Mother and Grandma loves so
much. The day Father get a mistress, I'll gladly eat Estel's boots, and you don't even can describe how's the stink.-
- Don't you think Father has been lonely too many years now?- Arwen, hidden with them in the terrace as their father enjoyed
a criminally nice nap at the sunlight chatted excitedly, waving her slim hands in annoyance at her brother's disbelief.
- I agree with Elladan here, and that's historical.- Elrohir shook her braided head, and smiled, lifting his shoulders in impotent
nonchalance.- Sis, if Father would like a mistress he surely would look for a elven lady like Mother. Besides, the Caradhras
mountain looks far more needy than him.-
- Elrohir! Shame on you!-
- Yes, I could have lived my entire life without that commentary!-
- Well, isn't that what we was discussing?-
- I was talking about the possibility of Father having fell in love with Arien in a romantic way, you sick elf!-
Elrohir, usually the most shy, looked almost confortable with the subject, while Arwen and Elladan looked at him with a
mixture of shock and delight in their face.
- Do you think they had… you know…?-
- Well, she slid off rather hurriedly last time, isn't it?-
- Do you think…- Arwen whispered in his pointed ear.- … she doesn't reciprocated his feelings? – she covered her mouth
with her hands, eyes wide.- that's so awful! that's terrible! How can she not love him back?-
- Sis, you really need to stop reading those novels.- Elladan was taking the whole thing like a joke, as he ate some grapes.
- We can't let Father be sad! We have to do something!-
- Sis, I was only joking. I respect Arien very much, and I don't think she or Father has time to spent in romantic liaisons,
much less in meaningless sex.-
Elladan choked.
Arwen smiled brightly, eyes getting a bit too shiny.
- But love always will find the way, even in the hardest hearts, you unromantic git!-
- That's IT! I'M BURNING THOSE NOVELS!-
After saving her most precious possessions, a stack of famous elven novels her mother had inherited her, Arwen was
left alone, since her male parentage went into the woods for a hunt.
Bad idea. Hell has no trouble like that of a mischievous girl with an idee fix.
Who can help her, and consequently, her father? Who can help her, from all her insensitive bunch of male parentage, would
help her?
Arwen giggled suddenly, and went into the study, for parchment.
Oh, Dear Gradma.
From Galadriel and Celeborn of Doriath, Lady and Lord of Golden Lorien and the Galadh Elves, by hand of
the Minas Tirith messenger Arien of Gondor, to Elrond, Lord of Imladris, we salute you.
In the name of Elbereth the bright, and Manwe the wise.
Suilio. Elu sila a uireb Mae govannen!
And then, with a very much informal hand after all the traditional salutations in the rolls of parchment, two lines, one with
winged hand and another heavier with darker ink.
I dare you.- G
You owe me.-C
Elrond left the parchment in the table, no expression in his face, as Arien stood two meters away, in the very door. She had
her eyes low, her breath still quick for the wild ride of twenty days to get the letter from Lorien to Rivendel through the
Caradhras pass, quicker than any messenger.
Fucking Lorien's Lady. You have been mixing in other's people business for so long it comes just like a second nature
to you, Noldor. Surely she and Celeborn are placing bets and laughing their head off about me.
And my poor Arien had to come almost killing Elfaroth in her haste to bring to me two lines of mocking. You are lucky
she doesn't violate your trust, or anyone for that matter: she knows how to read valinorean.
My poor one. So you dare me, Lady of Lorien? We'll see.
You are back again, Arien of Gondor, my lady. And you are caught.
- It was your travel safe? The Misty Mountains are still filled with dark creatures.- he asked calmly, folding the offending
parchments, his gaze carefully neutral.
- It was safe, and it's a pleasure to travel in such a marvelous spring.- her tone was careful too, deeply formal, and she kept
her eyes in the table.
- Arien, I'm glad you are back.- he added, his voice dropping a note.
- I can't refuse to the Lorien's Dame petition, my lord.-
And we can bet she knew it.- So you went into Lorien?-
- Yes, my Lord.- No other word. She seemed very tense, and Elrond knew that if he made the slightest gesture to start her,
she will fled again like a scared bird, and wouldn't come back, ever.
I can't loose the chance you gave me, Lady of Lorien, you peeking grinning old witch.
But it was so much tension.
Her hand over her heart. No: over her Scarlet Heart.
She is afraid I'll ask again.
Is too hard to understand that I don't want it, but your real, beating one, for myself?
- Arien…- Bad move: Elrond couldn't keep the longing from his voice. Arien gave a step back, and her eyes betrayed her.
- FATHER! Mithrandir is here!- Elladan's voice startled them from under Elrond's study balcony, and the both forgot
momentarily, as Elrohir added:
- And he is not alone! Lord Gloin and Mr. Baggins came too!-
Elrond couldn't have asked for a better breaker of tension. Arien seemed to speak Dwarf like a native, and they sat all
together at the table to dinner. Arwen laughed and blushed at the exaggerate, poetical Dwarf appreciation of her beauty of the
old Dwarf Lords, Elladan and Elrohir happily chatting about weaponry and craftsmanship with the younger dwarves, and
Elrond caught in talk with Mithrandir.
Arien was next to the old hobbit, sat over a bunch of pillows, who was happily munching down food enough for a robust
warrior.
- Excuse me, young Lady. I happen to have not caught your name.-
- Arien Aeglos, messenger of Gondor, Mr. Baggins.-
- Oh, I'm most pleased.- the hobbit smiled pleasantly, and gave her the saucer plate.- here, test this. It's one of the most
exquisite things I've tasted. What do you reckon it is?-
-…- Arien, unsure in the lively chat, took a tiny slice of bread, soaked it in the sauce, and bit it with certain reluctance.- I think
is white meat and black wine. And a bit of mustard, maybe - she said after a while, recuperating her smile. A culinary chat
with a hobbit is one of the three or five most relaxing things in the world.
The old hobbit was enchanting: Arien was positive having seen him in one of her travels, even if she can't remember exactly
when. He was funny and warm, all white haired, his face notoriously aged from humor and sadness, all together in a wise mix.
Arien took an instantaneous liking of him, in special when he taught her how to divest expertly a bird from all his flesh with just
five defiant, skilled knife and fork movements. They chatted together almost all night, with some adds from a very good-
humored Mithrandir, whose deep laugh rung under the wooden ceilings of the Last Homely House.
Elrond kept mostly silent, but smiling, feeling Arwen's steady gaze in him. He smiled at her, wandering why his daughter
watched him with some of grinning anticipation, her marvelous eyes bright.
- Arien, I expect you to sing something for me tonight! I want a love song. Last time you only sang for father, so you owe
me!- she piped in suddenly. Bilbo Baggins's face lit, as he looked to Arien, with who had been discussing the pleasures of
white cream on fish.
- Do you sing?- he asked, smile wide.- Oh that's a wonderful occurrence! I can write some songs for you, Miss Arien, I have
a whole stack of it! In fact, in home I barely did any other thing…-
- And is true what this young Lord tell me?- Lord Gloin, wine coloring his cheeks, roared with expectation in his rumbling
voice.- So you know how to sing Tell Me Why? The last time I heard that song was by the mighty Thorin Oak Shield, none
less! You have to let me hear it! It would be a wonderful gift, my lady, worthy of the travel alone from the Lonely Mountain! –
Great. Thanks, daughter, now it would be ages till this guests tire of her and I get her for me alone.
Are you trying to make me jealous?
Isn't supposed I am too wise for that?
Mithrandir took her arm to escort her to the Fire Hall, followed for the tiny old hobbit, chatting and proposing songs, as Arwen
walked flanked for two Dwarf Lords praising her grace. They settled by the fireplace, preparing instruments, laughing and
chatting, before Arien started with the powerful voices of the Dwarves chorusing a version of the Tell me Why. Then Mr.
Baggins piped in, with some happy, joyful melodies of the Shire than Mithrandir and Arien knew by heart: even Arwen joined
clapping and singing may I be a fat black rat, but how much I ate. It was a merry reunion as they sang and played, Elrond
half forgotten in his chair, seeing mirth lit Arwen, Arien, Mithrandir, his son's faces as the firelight.
Oh, well, seems I'm not that wise.
Elbereth, I am jealous. Are those dwarves never going to bed? How long they pretend keep my Arien singing for
*their* enjoyment?
Elrond chuckled, secretly. So this is jealousy.
Interesting.
Even as she sang, voice impossibly perfect, flaming hair escaped from her bun cascading in her shoulders, her eyes gentle,
making Mithrandir and the hobbit smile in memories of an old, sweet song, Elrond had to refrain himself to not act into his
sudden desires.
It was still that sad haunting in her eyes, even if she laughed, clearer when she sung.
He wanted to take her hand, tell her not to worry, tell her everything would go all right.
He wanted to make her laugh.
He wanted to make her sleep.
He wanted to dance and sing, and to observe her in secret.
He wanted to kiss her slowly, endlessly, lazily, as only an elf with all the time in the world can.
And yes, he wanted madly to get her in his arms and make to love to her in a way even men, and let's not mention elves,
would call barbaric.
Elrond chuckled to himself, two fingers pressing in his lips.
Oh my.
Arwen hushed his brothers out the room as soon as the Dwarf Lords and Mithrandir retired for the night. It was
almost dawn: it had been at least four hours of songs, and Arien was spent, warming her hands on the fire as Elrond bid his
guests good night.
Finally. Thank you Elbereth, I thought they wouldn't go away, ever.
* chuckle* It seems my so called hospitality had went into vacations, just out of the blue.
- Arien?-
He saw her spine to tense again, even if she must be tired. She had freed her long hair a while ago, and it fell in curls, beautiful
chaos glinting at the firelight. She didn't turn, but nodded: clearly she didn't had heard his loudless steps till he was standing by
her side.
Though the window, they could see the night almost ready to leave. It was there, waiting, the bright morning star, alone since
the moon has long ago set.
- Yes, my Lord?-
- You have sung to everyone's wish… except mine.- he said, voice light, as he sat into his favorite chair again, relaxed, staring
into her profile by the fireplace. She looked sweet and calm after all the laughs, even with that old hurt in the deepness of her
strange pale blue eyes. She smiled at him, and suddenly he had the vision of both, old, older than time, giving each other that
same smile that spoke volumes of lost ages. Like two ancient Ents, recognizing each other in a smile, meeting in the lost Tarn-
Nu- Fuin forest…
She lowered her eyes.- What can I sing for you, my Lord?-
- Anything you wish, my dear.- he said, softly, his eyes in hers. She leaned back a chair, and sung for him, old elven words
coming in her voice like created in that instant. And Elrond's heart started a race of desire and anxiety that was deafening,
and still…
Omor henion i dhu Ely siriar, el sila
Ai, Aniron… Ai, Aniron…
Tiro! El eria e mor I'lir en el luitha' uren
Ai! Aniron…
His heart hurt from so heavy beating, and he contained his breath, as his eyes grew darker. But he didn't moved, and kept
there, still, eyes burning, as she rose her face, and sung with her eyes in his, so filled with love and denial, and frustrated
desire, that Elrond's palms moistened where they met the wood of the chair.
An, Aniron, my love…
But I will not scare you away again…
Slowly, tenderly, Elrond extended a hand to her, seeking, not even asking. And like pulled by an invisible thread in the misty
light of dawn, she crossed the room away from the fireplace, to kneel at his feet, where his robes pooled. She took his warm
hands with her own cool ones, and let his head rest in chest, with a sigh of contentment, a whisper of defeat.
Love, what can we do to resist? Who do we think we are, to even try?
Aniron… I desire you too, my love.
Tears in his chest. A smile, and a defeated sigh, her eyes brilliant and sad.
- Lord Saruman answered my question… with the answer I feared the most. I went into Lorien, to ask more… I was so
desperate… -
- Ask me, my love.-
- You'll hate me.-
- Never.-
She slowly looked into his eyes, like searching for something. She breathed, and then asked in a whisper, voice uneven:
- What I am?-
The sun was chasing the mist of dawn away, everything bright with spring dew, when she ended her story, in
Rivendel's terrace, the waterfall muffling her tears. And Elrond's eyes remained closed a while, his hand clutching hers.
She was well over a century of age. That alone was strange enough: but coming from Gondor's Numenoreans blood, it wasn't
so. But that was just a side of the question.
Her family had inherited the Scarlet Heart from twelve generations of normal life-spans men. Her siblings had grew old and
died like normal men at her sight, as her nephews.
She hadn't aged a day from her maturity.
She didn't left footprints in the snow or leaves.
She sung like only an elf could.
She had dreams, strange dreams, of a lost city in a Valley.
Just after years of investigations and asking, she managed to know, in Elrond's own library, that Maeglin, the always ill-
infamous traitor, the dark elf that sold Gondolin to Melkor, into the most horrible crime possible, had a mortal lover, that ran
away with the Scarlet Heart after Maeglin's death.
Maeglin betrayed Turgon's Gondolin by desire of his cousin, the beautiful Idril Celebrindal, married to Tuor, parents of the
Brilliant Earendil, the father of Elrond.
Elrond, softly, rested his forehead in his folded hands. Arien, standing by the veranda, staring into the waterfalls, looked finally
spent, no tears, but fear in her face.
Elrond looked at her, and knew. She is so scared of rejection.
My love, what I care about your blood? What I care what that bastard Maeglin did?
- My Lord…- her voice carried him back from his dreams, and he found her looking at him, her hand grasped in front of her.
There, was the Scarlet Heart of Turgon, shining his perfection in her hands, soft and red. And she knelt by his chair, to stare
into his eyes with trembling lips.
- Arien, you…-
- My Lord, I know this is yours. But it was my one chance to know… who I am. My Lord… my family never choose, no like
you and your brother did. Please, take the Scarlet Heart that is yours, but tell me…- her voice broke, and wavered, but she
kept speaking, quietly.- Who I am? Must I sail West? Where I'll go when I die? My Lord, it has been eating me for so long! I
need to know! You are called the wisest one, tell me, please! –
- Arien, my dear…- sadness crept into his voice. It was that. She is what I am, a Peredhil. That's why we loved each
other. we are the same lost souls…
- I need to know! I feel like an elf here, I feel like a woman in Gondor, but I can't be both! The sea scares me, and
sometimes I remember places I never have been, song I never heard! Please my Lord, tell me! Would I die? Or I must …
sail…?
Elrond slowly pressed the Scarlet Heart into her hand, refusing to take it. and embraced her against his chest, as she sobbed
all the tension and fear and desire and agony of all those years away.
You saw your siblings grow old and die as I did with Elros. You feel the distance and closeness mixed to elves and
men that have burdened me. You tried to be just a mortal woman.
You are crying all the tears I've kept bottled inside for so long, my love.
And Elrond enveloped her in his arms, feeling a frightening, exhilarating feeling of freedom. Now he understood why their
hearts beat so alike. Why he had waited so much to love, and why her eyes resembled his own.
He felt the spring around them, the waterfalls, the birds. He had her head cradled in his arm, and he was content. Like a rose
unfolding, he felt his smile blossom.
At end. And at the same time, it was starting.
They remained embraced, resting in each other's arms for a long while. They had raced to this moment, to this place, and
fought for it. It was theirs, exclusively: a second of happiness so pure and strong that's there's no other like it. Elrond's eyes
wandered into the valley, into the sky, where everything seemed to share his joy.
Then, they looked each other, and smiled wordlessly, as their embrace become tighter.
We'll never part. I don't care how, I'll never let you go anywhere, my wandering love.
- I wish I know, my love. I can't answer your question… is no case like yours, ever, in the ages of ancient elven lore I've
poured myself in.- Elrond said softly, tenderly. Arien covered her face with her hands, too exhausted to cry, to sad to say
anything. But Elrond caressed the taut back, the soft long strands, and said in a whisper, smugly near her ear.
- But I have a good idea about who is the one person in MidEarth able to answer you.-
She lifted her head, startled, but she couldn't go anywhere: he had taken a long strand of hair and had it firmly trapped around
his finger.
He was very serious, even if his eyes danced merrily.
- Isn't a Human saying that says that when the heads doesn't know what to do, we recur to the arms? – he caressed her
cheek, and said with simplicity.- My dear, why to ask the Istaris, Galadriel, Celeborn, and even this silly Peredhil when in my
council you were sitting next the person that make the ships?-
- The person that… - Arien's eyes widened.- Lord Círdan of the Grey Havens was the Lord Círdan I did met? I thought he
was a Human Lord!-
- The beard. I told him countless times to get rid of it. I'll shave him myself for the angst he could have saved you.- Elrond
chuckled softly, brushing his own shaved chin.- He is very much older than me. He has the privilege to decide who sails or
not. If you want, I can give you a message for him. The elves of Mithlond don't act with too much of hospitality to strangers. I
can even ask myself, if you want.-
- No.- she said, eyes brilliant, a smile in her pale features.- No, I'll ask. But I would thank you for the message. Maybe he
wouldn't mind so much about my… heritage.-
- The Noldor have genocide and fratricide to feel shame for. Maeglin's blood was washed so much time ago, my love.- he
said, calmly. But Arien was full of energy, tense and nervous, and started pacing, as Elrond waited in the chair.
- I'll go immediately.- she said, her hair whirling each time she turned.- How long is from here to Mithlond, my Lord?-
- Month in horse. – Elrond stared at her, chin in hand.- Do you want to go immediately? Really?- he said, voice slightly
miffed.
She stopped.- I know you can't leave Rivendel, my Lord….-
- I wasn't talking about that.-
- So…?-
Elrond gave her a look, and she faltered, and then smiled, blushing. - I'm sorry.- she said, voice soft.- Of course is so very
rude from me to rush like that. I'll stay some days…- she ended with a tiny sigh.
Elrond had enough. He was in his feet in a second, passed her, grabbed a clean piece of parchment and wrote hurriedly with
his precise writing a few lines in black ink, to then seal it with his ring.
Arien stared. Elrond put the message in her hand, and glared at her with a smile, a comically miffed sigh in his voice.
- Get lost. But if you took one more day than the strictly necessary to come back to me, I'll hunt you down like a prey, do you
hear me?-
Arien's eyes widened, her smile incredulous and happy. She grabbed the letter, bowed, and ran out.
- Arien of GONDOR!!- Elrond howled.
Arien came back in equal quickness, grabbed her forgotten hair tie and black mantle, jumped over Elrond, kissed him with
stormy, wet emotion, and ran out, her hair trailing behind.
Elrond laughed out loud, frustrated and amused.
Oh, hell. I've waited countless years. Two more months wouldn't kill me.
I love you, messenger. Come back quick and safe. Come back to me with your answer, and we'll sail together to the
West.
And we'll be blissful. Forever.
Elrond was in the balcony, listening.
The song came as a lament, an half forgotten dream enveloping his air. He tilted his head to the sky, to listen better.
To not see her figure galloping away.
To stop the tears from falling from his fathomless eyes.
Omor henion i dhu Ely siriar,el sila
Ai, Aniron…
Tiro! El eria e mor I'lir en el luitha'uren
Ai! Aniron…
So do I, my love…
Aniron Enya
by The Fox.
Chapter Nine
From Lorien
Aniron
MidSpring
The spring had finally pleased all her promises. It were a shining bed of flowers covering in brilliant colors from the
same steps of Rivendel till the further end of the hills. Vibrant blue, pale lavender, shy pink, blood red, golden yellow, green as
emeralds bathing everyplace, reflecting in the Bruinen into a magical world of color under pale, sleepy blue sky. The bees
worked hurriedly with strangely loud bzz: even the butterflies invading Rivendel looked more lively, more bright than the usual.
And Arwen, Lady of Imladris, had a good idea why this spring looked so brilliant in Rivendel, even with the time strangely cold
for the end of spring.
- Father?-
- Yes, my dear?-
The books has been forgotten: Arwen didn't complain, knowing how many years they had enslaved his father, even away
from her. Elrond came from a ride in his white stallion, hair still in disarray, his braids loose and lost, his face colored by the
exercise, a mysterious smile in his lips, a hidden sadness in his eyes that spoke of life. Arwen felt his hands, cold and harsh
from the long forgotten reins, taking hers.
- You're in very good mood since the unfreezing.-
- Yes.- he nodded, letting his mantle in a chair and going to stand in his balcony, letting the wind play with his hair and clothes
as it played with the parchment in his desk.
- Father, where is Arien? Why she hadn't come? Did you two fight?- she spoke softly, even if her eyes where intently in the
broad shoulders of her father, whom had become very still.
Elrond slowly turned a strange smile in his face.
- I do not fight anyone, my dear… except maybe with Estel- he added after a thought.- But I certainly hope she would come
soon. We had some… unfinished dialogues I would like to finish.- he said coolly.
I wish, no more tears
To come soon
In this night I want you, I need you
I can unfold my wings
And flap the best I could
But I'm still, still for your love.
- Elrohir, SHUT UP!- he bellowed from his same place, starting Arwen. Elrohir, who had been singing very loudlessly,
cringed, in the veranda, at the other side of the house.
Elrond leaned in the balcony after the howl, and passed a hand through his hair with a gesture of exasperation so unlike him, so
messy and ungraceful, Arwen for a moment stared in disbelief.
And suddenly, her eyes widening, she recognized that gesture. It was typical from Estel when he was waiting for her to
appear, a gesture she enjoyed peeping, hidden, giggling as the tiny piece of truly evil girls are.
He is restless.
He is… in love with her? Father?
- Oh, come on, 'Wen. You have been reading too much of those lurid elven novels that Mother and Grandma loves so
much. The day Father get a mistress, I'll gladly eat Estel's boots, and you don't even can describe how's the stink.-
- Don't you think Father has been lonely too many years now?- Arwen, hidden with them in the terrace as their father enjoyed
a criminally nice nap at the sunlight chatted excitedly, waving her slim hands in annoyance at her brother's disbelief.
- I agree with Elladan here, and that's historical.- Elrohir shook her braided head, and smiled, lifting his shoulders in impotent
nonchalance.- Sis, if Father would like a mistress he surely would look for a elven lady like Mother. Besides, the Caradhras
mountain looks far more needy than him.-
- Elrohir! Shame on you!-
- Yes, I could have lived my entire life without that commentary!-
- Well, isn't that what we was discussing?-
- I was talking about the possibility of Father having fell in love with Arien in a romantic way, you sick elf!-
Elrohir, usually the most shy, looked almost confortable with the subject, while Arwen and Elladan looked at him with a
mixture of shock and delight in their face.
- Do you think they had… you know…?-
- Well, she slid off rather hurriedly last time, isn't it?-
- Do you think…- Arwen whispered in his pointed ear.- … she doesn't reciprocated his feelings? – she covered her mouth
with her hands, eyes wide.- that's so awful! that's terrible! How can she not love him back?-
- Sis, you really need to stop reading those novels.- Elladan was taking the whole thing like a joke, as he ate some grapes.
- We can't let Father be sad! We have to do something!-
- Sis, I was only joking. I respect Arien very much, and I don't think she or Father has time to spent in romantic liaisons,
much less in meaningless sex.-
Elladan choked.
Arwen smiled brightly, eyes getting a bit too shiny.
- But love always will find the way, even in the hardest hearts, you unromantic git!-
- That's IT! I'M BURNING THOSE NOVELS!-
After saving her most precious possessions, a stack of famous elven novels her mother had inherited her, Arwen was
left alone, since her male parentage went into the woods for a hunt.
Bad idea. Hell has no trouble like that of a mischievous girl with an idee fix.
Who can help her, and consequently, her father? Who can help her, from all her insensitive bunch of male parentage, would
help her?
Arwen giggled suddenly, and went into the study, for parchment.
Oh, Dear Gradma.
From Galadriel and Celeborn of Doriath, Lady and Lord of Golden Lorien and the Galadh Elves, by hand of
the Minas Tirith messenger Arien of Gondor, to Elrond, Lord of Imladris, we salute you.
In the name of Elbereth the bright, and Manwe the wise.
Suilio. Elu sila a uireb Mae govannen!
And then, with a very much informal hand after all the traditional salutations in the rolls of parchment, two lines, one with
winged hand and another heavier with darker ink.
I dare you.- G
You owe me.-C
Elrond left the parchment in the table, no expression in his face, as Arien stood two meters away, in the very door. She had
her eyes low, her breath still quick for the wild ride of twenty days to get the letter from Lorien to Rivendel through the
Caradhras pass, quicker than any messenger.
Fucking Lorien's Lady. You have been mixing in other's people business for so long it comes just like a second nature
to you, Noldor. Surely she and Celeborn are placing bets and laughing their head off about me.
And my poor Arien had to come almost killing Elfaroth in her haste to bring to me two lines of mocking. You are lucky
she doesn't violate your trust, or anyone for that matter: she knows how to read valinorean.
My poor one. So you dare me, Lady of Lorien? We'll see.
You are back again, Arien of Gondor, my lady. And you are caught.
- It was your travel safe? The Misty Mountains are still filled with dark creatures.- he asked calmly, folding the offending
parchments, his gaze carefully neutral.
- It was safe, and it's a pleasure to travel in such a marvelous spring.- her tone was careful too, deeply formal, and she kept
her eyes in the table.
- Arien, I'm glad you are back.- he added, his voice dropping a note.
- I can't refuse to the Lorien's Dame petition, my lord.-
And we can bet she knew it.- So you went into Lorien?-
- Yes, my Lord.- No other word. She seemed very tense, and Elrond knew that if he made the slightest gesture to start her,
she will fled again like a scared bird, and wouldn't come back, ever.
I can't loose the chance you gave me, Lady of Lorien, you peeking grinning old witch.
But it was so much tension.
Her hand over her heart. No: over her Scarlet Heart.
She is afraid I'll ask again.
Is too hard to understand that I don't want it, but your real, beating one, for myself?
- Arien…- Bad move: Elrond couldn't keep the longing from his voice. Arien gave a step back, and her eyes betrayed her.
- FATHER! Mithrandir is here!- Elladan's voice startled them from under Elrond's study balcony, and the both forgot
momentarily, as Elrohir added:
- And he is not alone! Lord Gloin and Mr. Baggins came too!-
Elrond couldn't have asked for a better breaker of tension. Arien seemed to speak Dwarf like a native, and they sat all
together at the table to dinner. Arwen laughed and blushed at the exaggerate, poetical Dwarf appreciation of her beauty of the
old Dwarf Lords, Elladan and Elrohir happily chatting about weaponry and craftsmanship with the younger dwarves, and
Elrond caught in talk with Mithrandir.
Arien was next to the old hobbit, sat over a bunch of pillows, who was happily munching down food enough for a robust
warrior.
- Excuse me, young Lady. I happen to have not caught your name.-
- Arien Aeglos, messenger of Gondor, Mr. Baggins.-
- Oh, I'm most pleased.- the hobbit smiled pleasantly, and gave her the saucer plate.- here, test this. It's one of the most
exquisite things I've tasted. What do you reckon it is?-
-…- Arien, unsure in the lively chat, took a tiny slice of bread, soaked it in the sauce, and bit it with certain reluctance.- I think
is white meat and black wine. And a bit of mustard, maybe - she said after a while, recuperating her smile. A culinary chat
with a hobbit is one of the three or five most relaxing things in the world.
The old hobbit was enchanting: Arien was positive having seen him in one of her travels, even if she can't remember exactly
when. He was funny and warm, all white haired, his face notoriously aged from humor and sadness, all together in a wise mix.
Arien took an instantaneous liking of him, in special when he taught her how to divest expertly a bird from all his flesh with just
five defiant, skilled knife and fork movements. They chatted together almost all night, with some adds from a very good-
humored Mithrandir, whose deep laugh rung under the wooden ceilings of the Last Homely House.
Elrond kept mostly silent, but smiling, feeling Arwen's steady gaze in him. He smiled at her, wandering why his daughter
watched him with some of grinning anticipation, her marvelous eyes bright.
- Arien, I expect you to sing something for me tonight! I want a love song. Last time you only sang for father, so you owe
me!- she piped in suddenly. Bilbo Baggins's face lit, as he looked to Arien, with who had been discussing the pleasures of
white cream on fish.
- Do you sing?- he asked, smile wide.- Oh that's a wonderful occurrence! I can write some songs for you, Miss Arien, I have
a whole stack of it! In fact, in home I barely did any other thing…-
- And is true what this young Lord tell me?- Lord Gloin, wine coloring his cheeks, roared with expectation in his rumbling
voice.- So you know how to sing Tell Me Why? The last time I heard that song was by the mighty Thorin Oak Shield, none
less! You have to let me hear it! It would be a wonderful gift, my lady, worthy of the travel alone from the Lonely Mountain! –
Great. Thanks, daughter, now it would be ages till this guests tire of her and I get her for me alone.
Are you trying to make me jealous?
Isn't supposed I am too wise for that?
Mithrandir took her arm to escort her to the Fire Hall, followed for the tiny old hobbit, chatting and proposing songs, as Arwen
walked flanked for two Dwarf Lords praising her grace. They settled by the fireplace, preparing instruments, laughing and
chatting, before Arien started with the powerful voices of the Dwarves chorusing a version of the Tell me Why. Then Mr.
Baggins piped in, with some happy, joyful melodies of the Shire than Mithrandir and Arien knew by heart: even Arwen joined
clapping and singing may I be a fat black rat, but how much I ate. It was a merry reunion as they sang and played, Elrond
half forgotten in his chair, seeing mirth lit Arwen, Arien, Mithrandir, his son's faces as the firelight.
Oh, well, seems I'm not that wise.
Elbereth, I am jealous. Are those dwarves never going to bed? How long they pretend keep my Arien singing for
*their* enjoyment?
Elrond chuckled, secretly. So this is jealousy.
Interesting.
Even as she sang, voice impossibly perfect, flaming hair escaped from her bun cascading in her shoulders, her eyes gentle,
making Mithrandir and the hobbit smile in memories of an old, sweet song, Elrond had to refrain himself to not act into his
sudden desires.
It was still that sad haunting in her eyes, even if she laughed, clearer when she sung.
He wanted to take her hand, tell her not to worry, tell her everything would go all right.
He wanted to make her laugh.
He wanted to make her sleep.
He wanted to dance and sing, and to observe her in secret.
He wanted to kiss her slowly, endlessly, lazily, as only an elf with all the time in the world can.
And yes, he wanted madly to get her in his arms and make to love to her in a way even men, and let's not mention elves,
would call barbaric.
Elrond chuckled to himself, two fingers pressing in his lips.
Oh my.
Arwen hushed his brothers out the room as soon as the Dwarf Lords and Mithrandir retired for the night. It was
almost dawn: it had been at least four hours of songs, and Arien was spent, warming her hands on the fire as Elrond bid his
guests good night.
Finally. Thank you Elbereth, I thought they wouldn't go away, ever.
* chuckle* It seems my so called hospitality had went into vacations, just out of the blue.
- Arien?-
He saw her spine to tense again, even if she must be tired. She had freed her long hair a while ago, and it fell in curls, beautiful
chaos glinting at the firelight. She didn't turn, but nodded: clearly she didn't had heard his loudless steps till he was standing by
her side.
Though the window, they could see the night almost ready to leave. It was there, waiting, the bright morning star, alone since
the moon has long ago set.
- Yes, my Lord?-
- You have sung to everyone's wish… except mine.- he said, voice light, as he sat into his favorite chair again, relaxed, staring
into her profile by the fireplace. She looked sweet and calm after all the laughs, even with that old hurt in the deepness of her
strange pale blue eyes. She smiled at him, and suddenly he had the vision of both, old, older than time, giving each other that
same smile that spoke volumes of lost ages. Like two ancient Ents, recognizing each other in a smile, meeting in the lost Tarn-
Nu- Fuin forest…
She lowered her eyes.- What can I sing for you, my Lord?-
- Anything you wish, my dear.- he said, softly, his eyes in hers. She leaned back a chair, and sung for him, old elven words
coming in her voice like created in that instant. And Elrond's heart started a race of desire and anxiety that was deafening,
and still…
Omor henion i dhu Ely siriar, el sila
Ai, Aniron… Ai, Aniron…
Tiro! El eria e mor I'lir en el luitha' uren
Ai! Aniron…
His heart hurt from so heavy beating, and he contained his breath, as his eyes grew darker. But he didn't moved, and kept
there, still, eyes burning, as she rose her face, and sung with her eyes in his, so filled with love and denial, and frustrated
desire, that Elrond's palms moistened where they met the wood of the chair.
An, Aniron, my love…
But I will not scare you away again…
Slowly, tenderly, Elrond extended a hand to her, seeking, not even asking. And like pulled by an invisible thread in the misty
light of dawn, she crossed the room away from the fireplace, to kneel at his feet, where his robes pooled. She took his warm
hands with her own cool ones, and let his head rest in chest, with a sigh of contentment, a whisper of defeat.
Love, what can we do to resist? Who do we think we are, to even try?
Aniron… I desire you too, my love.
Tears in his chest. A smile, and a defeated sigh, her eyes brilliant and sad.
- Lord Saruman answered my question… with the answer I feared the most. I went into Lorien, to ask more… I was so
desperate… -
- Ask me, my love.-
- You'll hate me.-
- Never.-
She slowly looked into his eyes, like searching for something. She breathed, and then asked in a whisper, voice uneven:
- What I am?-
The sun was chasing the mist of dawn away, everything bright with spring dew, when she ended her story, in
Rivendel's terrace, the waterfall muffling her tears. And Elrond's eyes remained closed a while, his hand clutching hers.
She was well over a century of age. That alone was strange enough: but coming from Gondor's Numenoreans blood, it wasn't
so. But that was just a side of the question.
Her family had inherited the Scarlet Heart from twelve generations of normal life-spans men. Her siblings had grew old and
died like normal men at her sight, as her nephews.
She hadn't aged a day from her maturity.
She didn't left footprints in the snow or leaves.
She sung like only an elf could.
She had dreams, strange dreams, of a lost city in a Valley.
Just after years of investigations and asking, she managed to know, in Elrond's own library, that Maeglin, the always ill-
infamous traitor, the dark elf that sold Gondolin to Melkor, into the most horrible crime possible, had a mortal lover, that ran
away with the Scarlet Heart after Maeglin's death.
Maeglin betrayed Turgon's Gondolin by desire of his cousin, the beautiful Idril Celebrindal, married to Tuor, parents of the
Brilliant Earendil, the father of Elrond.
Elrond, softly, rested his forehead in his folded hands. Arien, standing by the veranda, staring into the waterfalls, looked finally
spent, no tears, but fear in her face.
Elrond looked at her, and knew. She is so scared of rejection.
My love, what I care about your blood? What I care what that bastard Maeglin did?
- My Lord…- her voice carried him back from his dreams, and he found her looking at him, her hand grasped in front of her.
There, was the Scarlet Heart of Turgon, shining his perfection in her hands, soft and red. And she knelt by his chair, to stare
into his eyes with trembling lips.
- Arien, you…-
- My Lord, I know this is yours. But it was my one chance to know… who I am. My Lord… my family never choose, no like
you and your brother did. Please, take the Scarlet Heart that is yours, but tell me…- her voice broke, and wavered, but she
kept speaking, quietly.- Who I am? Must I sail West? Where I'll go when I die? My Lord, it has been eating me for so long! I
need to know! You are called the wisest one, tell me, please! –
- Arien, my dear…- sadness crept into his voice. It was that. She is what I am, a Peredhil. That's why we loved each
other. we are the same lost souls…
- I need to know! I feel like an elf here, I feel like a woman in Gondor, but I can't be both! The sea scares me, and
sometimes I remember places I never have been, song I never heard! Please my Lord, tell me! Would I die? Or I must …
sail…?
Elrond slowly pressed the Scarlet Heart into her hand, refusing to take it. and embraced her against his chest, as she sobbed
all the tension and fear and desire and agony of all those years away.
You saw your siblings grow old and die as I did with Elros. You feel the distance and closeness mixed to elves and
men that have burdened me. You tried to be just a mortal woman.
You are crying all the tears I've kept bottled inside for so long, my love.
And Elrond enveloped her in his arms, feeling a frightening, exhilarating feeling of freedom. Now he understood why their
hearts beat so alike. Why he had waited so much to love, and why her eyes resembled his own.
He felt the spring around them, the waterfalls, the birds. He had her head cradled in his arm, and he was content. Like a rose
unfolding, he felt his smile blossom.
At end. And at the same time, it was starting.
They remained embraced, resting in each other's arms for a long while. They had raced to this moment, to this place, and
fought for it. It was theirs, exclusively: a second of happiness so pure and strong that's there's no other like it. Elrond's eyes
wandered into the valley, into the sky, where everything seemed to share his joy.
Then, they looked each other, and smiled wordlessly, as their embrace become tighter.
We'll never part. I don't care how, I'll never let you go anywhere, my wandering love.
- I wish I know, my love. I can't answer your question… is no case like yours, ever, in the ages of ancient elven lore I've
poured myself in.- Elrond said softly, tenderly. Arien covered her face with her hands, too exhausted to cry, to sad to say
anything. But Elrond caressed the taut back, the soft long strands, and said in a whisper, smugly near her ear.
- But I have a good idea about who is the one person in MidEarth able to answer you.-
She lifted her head, startled, but she couldn't go anywhere: he had taken a long strand of hair and had it firmly trapped around
his finger.
He was very serious, even if his eyes danced merrily.
- Isn't a Human saying that says that when the heads doesn't know what to do, we recur to the arms? – he caressed her
cheek, and said with simplicity.- My dear, why to ask the Istaris, Galadriel, Celeborn, and even this silly Peredhil when in my
council you were sitting next the person that make the ships?-
- The person that… - Arien's eyes widened.- Lord Círdan of the Grey Havens was the Lord Círdan I did met? I thought he
was a Human Lord!-
- The beard. I told him countless times to get rid of it. I'll shave him myself for the angst he could have saved you.- Elrond
chuckled softly, brushing his own shaved chin.- He is very much older than me. He has the privilege to decide who sails or
not. If you want, I can give you a message for him. The elves of Mithlond don't act with too much of hospitality to strangers. I
can even ask myself, if you want.-
- No.- she said, eyes brilliant, a smile in her pale features.- No, I'll ask. But I would thank you for the message. Maybe he
wouldn't mind so much about my… heritage.-
- The Noldor have genocide and fratricide to feel shame for. Maeglin's blood was washed so much time ago, my love.- he
said, calmly. But Arien was full of energy, tense and nervous, and started pacing, as Elrond waited in the chair.
- I'll go immediately.- she said, her hair whirling each time she turned.- How long is from here to Mithlond, my Lord?-
- Month in horse. – Elrond stared at her, chin in hand.- Do you want to go immediately? Really?- he said, voice slightly
miffed.
She stopped.- I know you can't leave Rivendel, my Lord….-
- I wasn't talking about that.-
- So…?-
Elrond gave her a look, and she faltered, and then smiled, blushing. - I'm sorry.- she said, voice soft.- Of course is so very
rude from me to rush like that. I'll stay some days…- she ended with a tiny sigh.
Elrond had enough. He was in his feet in a second, passed her, grabbed a clean piece of parchment and wrote hurriedly with
his precise writing a few lines in black ink, to then seal it with his ring.
Arien stared. Elrond put the message in her hand, and glared at her with a smile, a comically miffed sigh in his voice.
- Get lost. But if you took one more day than the strictly necessary to come back to me, I'll hunt you down like a prey, do you
hear me?-
Arien's eyes widened, her smile incredulous and happy. She grabbed the letter, bowed, and ran out.
- Arien of GONDOR!!- Elrond howled.
Arien came back in equal quickness, grabbed her forgotten hair tie and black mantle, jumped over Elrond, kissed him with
stormy, wet emotion, and ran out, her hair trailing behind.
Elrond laughed out loud, frustrated and amused.
Oh, hell. I've waited countless years. Two more months wouldn't kill me.
I love you, messenger. Come back quick and safe. Come back to me with your answer, and we'll sail together to the
West.
And we'll be blissful. Forever.
Elrond was in the balcony, listening.
The song came as a lament, an half forgotten dream enveloping his air. He tilted his head to the sky, to listen better.
To not see her figure galloping away.
To stop the tears from falling from his fathomless eyes.
Omor henion i dhu Ely siriar,el sila
Ai, Aniron…
Tiro! El eria e mor I'lir en el luitha'uren
Ai! Aniron…
So do I, my love…
Aniron Enya