Twelve Nights In Rivendel
by The Fox.
Chapter Ten
From Mithlond
Summer Rain.
Midsummer Eve
- You WHAT?-
Círdan of Mithlond, one of the four great Lord of Elves from the First Age took one step back. The Lord of Imladris, youngest
from the Elven Lords looked positively homicidal, as he leant on his desk, eyes aflame, narrowed into slits. But Círdan of the
Grey Havens have been warrior and leader, even if not by his choice, and he stood his ground, to glare back to the infuriate
Peredhil.
- I told her it was no way she could sail. She was the Human descendant from Maeglin, no less! What did you expected from
me to do? Embrace her like a sister? She is twelve generations away from his Peredhil status, and besides, if the first of his
line remained here that indicated he choose Humankind.-
- She is descendant of the White Lady Aredhel, Círdan. Isn't that enough? She is Peredhil, like me.- Elrond was clearly biting
his tongue to control himself, but his hand trembled.
- She can't sail, Elrond. She had barely a drop of Elven blood in her veins, and its Maeglin's, for Valar's sake. If your
grandparents Tuor and Idril reached Tol Eressea's shores, and are waiting for us, no doubt they would choke her at sight.-
Círdan's lighter tone didn't help. Elrond whirled, face set in stone, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
- Are you discussing the rights of the Peredhils to sail? Who will you bane from the ships next, then? Myself? My sons? My
daughter?-
- Elrond…- Círdan sighed tiredly, a hand in his white beard.- Why are you so worked up about this girl? She didn't mention
you in our conversation. Is there something I must know?-
- Nothing.- Elrond spat, through clenched teeth.- Nothing except that if she doesn't sail with me, I will not set foot in your
ships, ever.-
- Elrond!-
- I will not! – He set his fists in the desk, the muscles of his face taut as strings.- How can you do this to me, Círdan?-
- Meldir…- softly, the older elf stared to Elrond, and then shook his head, knowingly.- I can't believe it. You fell for one of
Maeglin's children? Is this poetical justice for the love Idril Celebrindal didn't give to him?-
- Círdan, I can't care less.- Elrond shut rudely the Ships Lord, eyes dark.
- Elrond, equally could Estel or the Numeroneans request permission to sail: they came from your brother. But he chose
mortality, and even if there's a drop of elven blood in them, they have reserved another gift from Iluvatar: the death.-
Elrond closed his eyes, still burning.
- No.-
- Elrond, you know that…-
- DON'T LECTURE ME, CÍRDAN! -
- No need to shout.- Círdan's tone, lowered, and the calm, relaxed elf Lord suddenly looked dangerous. - I was gifted with the
knowing, just by looking a being, to know if it's destined to sail. It was the gift the Valar gave my people, and me. And she is
not. She would not sail. Period.-
- I will not be denied, Círdan.-
- You have a choice between love and twilight, as Luthien showed us.- Círdan said, deliberately. Elrond face hardened, and
suddenly, he turned, to lean in his window, looking to the sunset outside his window.
- Where did she went?-
- No idea. –
-Did… did she cry?. Did she begged, or…-
- No. She bowed, and left.-
Oh, my poor love.
- How could you…- Elrond's voice dropped. Saruman have been so cruel giving her hopes to then crush her, painfully, with
the truth.
It has been almost two months and half, and she hadn't come back. Elrond was beside himself with worry, and was ready to
please his promise of hunt her when Círdan, as the other great Elven Lords arrived to Rivendell for the Midsummer Eve when
they feasted together under the clear Rivendell sky, in honor of Varda and Manwe. Círdan had barely time to jump from his
saddle before to be dragged forcefully into Elrond's private study.
And his answers didn't were of the Imladris Master's taste.
- Celebrian is waiting for you, Elrond. Surely you wouldn't dare to be unfaithful.- Círdan said, reproach hidden in his deep
voice. But Elrond whirled at him like a hurt animal, eyes flashing silver under the curtain of loose black hair.
- How you dare? You never knew what happened between us. You would never understand me, self-centered accursed elf of
happy family and loving wife. You don't know what is like to put your heart and soul in a single hope. I was lonely, staring at
the stars, in a cold bed for ages near a woman who didn't touched me with love even once. She despised me. She simply
couldn't bear my face after impregnating her, and left our children because she called them tainted with my mortality. How
you dare to deny me my one chance of love? No one could love like her, Círdan. No one knows what its feels, to be part in
two…- Elrond's voice dropped, fists trembling. Círdan closed his eyes in defeat, and Elrond left himself to fall in his chair, his
forehead in his hands, circlet thrown carelessly aside.
The old Lord put his hand in the shoulder of the younger, and patted it slowly.
- I'm so sorry, meldir.-
Elrond sighed.
- Please, let me alone.-
- I'll do. But please, your guests are waiting for you.-
- Get out.-
Each Midsummer Eve, the stars shone brightly over Imladris, in the Hidden Valley, blessing the meeting of the Fair Race, who
feasted and celebrate in the memory of the times when the elves were at their splendor. There was the Lady Galadriel, fairer
than any other Noldor except one, and Celeborn, tall and powerful, wise in his forehead, the long silver hair gracefully mixing
with Galadriel's gold. They, hand in hand, spoke quietly together, the love they had shared through countless moons strong and
steady like a living flame. There was Círdan of Mithlond, white bead and hair glistening over his dark blue robes, peaceful and
kind, his eyes of blue crystal penetrating any soul, watching, evaluating. There was Thranduil of Mirkwood, his blond family
around, his green eyes strong yet gentle in the calm, alive behavior of the Green Elves. There was the Grey Pilgrim,
Mithrandir, worried eyes in his friend and host, the Peredhil, Lord Elrond, who was clearly miles from there, face carefully
blank, eyes filled with a desperate sort of sadness. And with him the Peredhils of Imladris: Arwen Undomiel, fair beyond
words, sat with the youngster elves and Estel, Elrond's foster son, and his brother Elladan and Elrohir, whom chatted ignorant
of their father's sadness.
Elrond was alone in the bower, and didn't rise his face even to Mithrandir magnificent fireworks.
- Elrond, my boy…- Celeborn patted his arm.- What is wrong? Didn't she come?-
Elrond glared, and the lowered his face.- Lord Celeborn, I owe you one.-
- Círdan will not let her sail, isn't that?-
Elrond blinked.- Did you knew…?-
- Yes, I did. But if love doesn't worth to stay, my boy, what would?- Elrond looked gratefully, with a tiny smile, to the divine
Lorien lord that for so long and so greatly have loved and have been loved.
- I'll find her, since tomorrow.- Elrond stated, earning a nod and a smile from the silver haired lord.
- That's the spirit, my dear one. Now, lift your head and un-wrinkle that forehead. You don't want your lady to find you with a
face like that.-
Elrond chuckled, his spirits lifting.
Celeborn was right. I'll found you, love.
We have still a long while to live. We'll stay together, and if it required, I'll die by your side like a man.
It would be sweet, like to sleep…
Elrond shot awake suddenly. The party had ended shortly after the moon's zenith, and he had retired for the night, informing
Glorfindel he would be gone by dawn, alone. He didn't stay to hear any complain: he simply went to his rooms, and fell in the
bed, exhausted, just barely managing to take off his mantle and sandals before to indulge into sweet sleep, that have been
avoiding him for days.
And he shot awake in the dreamy hour that precede morning, when all was blurry and indisntict, hearing a voice singing at him
softly, under his window.
The cool wind of dawn moved his endless white curtains. He walked there, and opened it with a impatient pull, and saw Arien
there, Staring up to him, singing so softly he barely heard her.
She was dressed like a elf maiden: long pale dress whirling in the wind, her hair free in the wind, crowned with flowers, pale
arms naked in the cold, barefoot. Elrond felt his heart skip a beat hearing her song, a need impossible to describe burning in his
heart as she slowly sang, her eyes unblinking. She seemed determinate, her cheeks blushed, her stare unwavering. Elrond
extended a hand to her, his breath quick, feeling the emptiness in his arms, and she, agile and skilled, set her toes in the ivy
curling around the wall and the balcony, and ascended in four defiant, anxious steps.
She fell into Elrond's arms, and he embraced her tightly, his voice caught.
- I'm sorry… I'm sorry…- he whispered, feeling her body against his, warmness and trembling invading every fiber of his
being.
She tilted her head and kissed him slowly, deeply. And Elrond answered in full force, hungry and through at time, his hands
lacing upwards in his waist to press her against him.
- I will not sail without you...- he whispered between kisses, her song in his head.
She was trembling, and she didn't decline his kisses, stronger and fiercer, and wasn't scarce with hers, her arms twining in
Elrond's neck like vines.
It wasn't dawn still, but Elrond could see perfectly their shadows mixed by the last stars in the glassy wooden floor. Slowly he
made his way to her neck, caressing her nape, letting her feel his moist breath, his steady, healer's hand.
- My Lord…-
- Another *lord* and I will spank you.- Elrond chuckled in his ear, breath short.- Tell me what do you want, Arien. Tell what
do you want from me…-
- I want your love, my Lord… Elrond… -
- You will have. But I want your entire being in return, my Arien… all.-
- Show me how the Elves love, my lord…- Arien gave a startled yip when Elrond, true at his word, pinched her roughly in the
thigh.
- I can't.- Elrond said, chuckling, breath hot in her face.- I am not Elf, my Arien. But let's discover how the Peredhils love...-
- Father? Are you in there?- Elladan strode into his father's chambers without even a knock, walk purposeful, riding gear
stained with dust from where he had been riding all morning.- Are you sick? Arwen is worried. Glorfindel said he has been
waiting with your horse ready all morning. What is that rumor about you're going into travel…?- Elladan stopped, suddenly.
His father was in his robe, hair brushed as usual, calmly tying the braids of his hair facing his mirror.
The bed was a royal mess of white bedding and coverlets.
- Tell Glorfindel I changed my mind. I will not leave Rivendell. Nor I am sick. I just… overslept.-
Elladan's eyebrows shot up into his hairline..
- I will be downstairs in a short while.- Elrond added, voice stern at the unspoken "You what?" in Elladan's expression.- Now,
kindly let me dress.-
Elladan hurried outside, amazed at the dangerous but happy mood of his father. He looked… alive. He eyed the door, with a
funny expression, and then shrugged. Always better than sad benevolence…
- Is he gone?-
- Love, you have the most amazing reflexes.- Elrond, letting himself rest in the wooden carved door, smirked eyeing Arien,
clad in nothing but the white tunic he wore the last night emerge from her hiding place under the bed. – But you didn't have to
do that, you know. My sons and Arwen would be surely delighted to welcome you.-
Arien smiled, but it was something in her smile. Elrond neared her, and pulling her arms, embraced her, and watched her at the
morning light.
No sadness.
No hidden suffering.
No fear.
Gone, as the snow at the sun.
But it wa something, still hidden.
Doubt? Do you dare to doubt my love, my Silmarien, my treasure?
She tiptoed, and Elrond kissed the daugther of Maeglin with slow tenderness. It was no trace of the two ardent humans in bed
last night: now it was the kiss a high king of elves would give to his betrothed, chaste and sweet, tenderly powerful, dominance
tempered by love.
And Arien threw her head back and smiled as Elrond lost himself in the pale column of her neck, feeling like a human
adolescent again.
Did anyone know? Elrond didn't know, and couldn't have cared less. He was happy, in the middle of the summer, high
blue sky painted with white pure clouds in the entire circle of the horizon, like a new Melian's Circle drawn by bliss. The sun
was deep golden, the light itself seemed clearer and fresher, and the trees sung in the breeze like elven voices.
He looked the same, but it was light in his eyes.
Slowly, starlit nights turned brilliant days, and Rivendell answered with shining dawns and perfect sunsets, even with fresh,
laughing rain in the afternoons. The wind was bolder, and Rivendell grew years in seconds, like the time that had stopped there
in a blossoming spring had finally reached his summer, the waterfalls exploding in strong torrents and crystal rainbows without
no shyness, no fear of be too perfect, too bright.
Elrond's hair in the wind, he laughed, and opened his arms, to the wind, feeling Arien's arms around him like she feared he
would vanish.
Mornings were light, blinding blue hours spent between blinding white covers, nested in peace and innocence and slow kisses,
each day a promise of happiness.
Afternoons where sun, where they ran and rode, free and powerful, or danced under the rain breathless, singing freely. Elrond
got to know each tone, each vibration of Arien's magical voice, head nested in her chest, making her sing even in his arms,
even when they were one, and felt the bliss almost menacing his sanity hearing her voice uniquely for him, expressing her love
in thousand inflections. She wasn't the eloquent lord he was, mouthing each sunset when their hair mixed like the sun
embraced the night all the words of love in all the idioms that had been spoken in the Middle Earth, ever. She expressed her
love in songs, in caresses, in long hours when his gaze tied hers and they stood quietly.
And nights were a dark mantle enveloping them, the darkness in Elrond's hair like a veil between them and the world as they
explored their love under the stars, free as the first elf that opened bewildered eyes, naked under the silver gaze of Elbereth.
Elrond called her name, lost in the threads of passion, his eyes falling closed when the zenith of his passion took him into the
stars and beyond, and slept with the dreams of the ones who know only happiness was beyond the dreams barrier.
A dream dreamed by a rose
No more tears
No more fear
You're in my arms, here with me…
She sung, and he dreamed.
He dreamed of hope, and love, and of the destiny of the men, and he didn't even flinch in his dream.
I will die with you, my love.
But first of all, we will live.
Elrond kissed her lips, asleep. And she answered, and with tears in her eyes, she left with the summer.
You will not die.
You must live forever, my love. I will not burden you.
Namarie…
In his dreams, he heard her singing, and he wetted his pillow with tears.
No…Silmarien, my silmaril…
Oh my love, it's you that I dream of
Oh my love since that day,
Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain
Doesn't matter what I do now, doesn't matter what I say
Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain
In the first cold morning, he whispered, feeling the chill biting his skin, a red jewel hanging from his hand.
I don't want this heart of stone. I want yours, beating, alive one…
And the wind became the most terrible storm.
Summer Rain © Belinda Carlisle
by The Fox.
Chapter Ten
From Mithlond
Summer Rain.
Midsummer Eve
- You WHAT?-
Círdan of Mithlond, one of the four great Lord of Elves from the First Age took one step back. The Lord of Imladris, youngest
from the Elven Lords looked positively homicidal, as he leant on his desk, eyes aflame, narrowed into slits. But Círdan of the
Grey Havens have been warrior and leader, even if not by his choice, and he stood his ground, to glare back to the infuriate
Peredhil.
- I told her it was no way she could sail. She was the Human descendant from Maeglin, no less! What did you expected from
me to do? Embrace her like a sister? She is twelve generations away from his Peredhil status, and besides, if the first of his
line remained here that indicated he choose Humankind.-
- She is descendant of the White Lady Aredhel, Círdan. Isn't that enough? She is Peredhil, like me.- Elrond was clearly biting
his tongue to control himself, but his hand trembled.
- She can't sail, Elrond. She had barely a drop of Elven blood in her veins, and its Maeglin's, for Valar's sake. If your
grandparents Tuor and Idril reached Tol Eressea's shores, and are waiting for us, no doubt they would choke her at sight.-
Círdan's lighter tone didn't help. Elrond whirled, face set in stone, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
- Are you discussing the rights of the Peredhils to sail? Who will you bane from the ships next, then? Myself? My sons? My
daughter?-
- Elrond…- Círdan sighed tiredly, a hand in his white beard.- Why are you so worked up about this girl? She didn't mention
you in our conversation. Is there something I must know?-
- Nothing.- Elrond spat, through clenched teeth.- Nothing except that if she doesn't sail with me, I will not set foot in your
ships, ever.-
- Elrond!-
- I will not! – He set his fists in the desk, the muscles of his face taut as strings.- How can you do this to me, Círdan?-
- Meldir…- softly, the older elf stared to Elrond, and then shook his head, knowingly.- I can't believe it. You fell for one of
Maeglin's children? Is this poetical justice for the love Idril Celebrindal didn't give to him?-
- Círdan, I can't care less.- Elrond shut rudely the Ships Lord, eyes dark.
- Elrond, equally could Estel or the Numeroneans request permission to sail: they came from your brother. But he chose
mortality, and even if there's a drop of elven blood in them, they have reserved another gift from Iluvatar: the death.-
Elrond closed his eyes, still burning.
- No.-
- Elrond, you know that…-
- DON'T LECTURE ME, CÍRDAN! -
- No need to shout.- Círdan's tone, lowered, and the calm, relaxed elf Lord suddenly looked dangerous. - I was gifted with the
knowing, just by looking a being, to know if it's destined to sail. It was the gift the Valar gave my people, and me. And she is
not. She would not sail. Period.-
- I will not be denied, Círdan.-
- You have a choice between love and twilight, as Luthien showed us.- Círdan said, deliberately. Elrond face hardened, and
suddenly, he turned, to lean in his window, looking to the sunset outside his window.
- Where did she went?-
- No idea. –
-Did… did she cry?. Did she begged, or…-
- No. She bowed, and left.-
Oh, my poor love.
- How could you…- Elrond's voice dropped. Saruman have been so cruel giving her hopes to then crush her, painfully, with
the truth.
It has been almost two months and half, and she hadn't come back. Elrond was beside himself with worry, and was ready to
please his promise of hunt her when Círdan, as the other great Elven Lords arrived to Rivendell for the Midsummer Eve when
they feasted together under the clear Rivendell sky, in honor of Varda and Manwe. Círdan had barely time to jump from his
saddle before to be dragged forcefully into Elrond's private study.
And his answers didn't were of the Imladris Master's taste.
- Celebrian is waiting for you, Elrond. Surely you wouldn't dare to be unfaithful.- Círdan said, reproach hidden in his deep
voice. But Elrond whirled at him like a hurt animal, eyes flashing silver under the curtain of loose black hair.
- How you dare? You never knew what happened between us. You would never understand me, self-centered accursed elf of
happy family and loving wife. You don't know what is like to put your heart and soul in a single hope. I was lonely, staring at
the stars, in a cold bed for ages near a woman who didn't touched me with love even once. She despised me. She simply
couldn't bear my face after impregnating her, and left our children because she called them tainted with my mortality. How
you dare to deny me my one chance of love? No one could love like her, Círdan. No one knows what its feels, to be part in
two…- Elrond's voice dropped, fists trembling. Círdan closed his eyes in defeat, and Elrond left himself to fall in his chair, his
forehead in his hands, circlet thrown carelessly aside.
The old Lord put his hand in the shoulder of the younger, and patted it slowly.
- I'm so sorry, meldir.-
Elrond sighed.
- Please, let me alone.-
- I'll do. But please, your guests are waiting for you.-
- Get out.-
Each Midsummer Eve, the stars shone brightly over Imladris, in the Hidden Valley, blessing the meeting of the Fair Race, who
feasted and celebrate in the memory of the times when the elves were at their splendor. There was the Lady Galadriel, fairer
than any other Noldor except one, and Celeborn, tall and powerful, wise in his forehead, the long silver hair gracefully mixing
with Galadriel's gold. They, hand in hand, spoke quietly together, the love they had shared through countless moons strong and
steady like a living flame. There was Círdan of Mithlond, white bead and hair glistening over his dark blue robes, peaceful and
kind, his eyes of blue crystal penetrating any soul, watching, evaluating. There was Thranduil of Mirkwood, his blond family
around, his green eyes strong yet gentle in the calm, alive behavior of the Green Elves. There was the Grey Pilgrim,
Mithrandir, worried eyes in his friend and host, the Peredhil, Lord Elrond, who was clearly miles from there, face carefully
blank, eyes filled with a desperate sort of sadness. And with him the Peredhils of Imladris: Arwen Undomiel, fair beyond
words, sat with the youngster elves and Estel, Elrond's foster son, and his brother Elladan and Elrohir, whom chatted ignorant
of their father's sadness.
Elrond was alone in the bower, and didn't rise his face even to Mithrandir magnificent fireworks.
- Elrond, my boy…- Celeborn patted his arm.- What is wrong? Didn't she come?-
Elrond glared, and the lowered his face.- Lord Celeborn, I owe you one.-
- Círdan will not let her sail, isn't that?-
Elrond blinked.- Did you knew…?-
- Yes, I did. But if love doesn't worth to stay, my boy, what would?- Elrond looked gratefully, with a tiny smile, to the divine
Lorien lord that for so long and so greatly have loved and have been loved.
- I'll find her, since tomorrow.- Elrond stated, earning a nod and a smile from the silver haired lord.
- That's the spirit, my dear one. Now, lift your head and un-wrinkle that forehead. You don't want your lady to find you with a
face like that.-
Elrond chuckled, his spirits lifting.
Celeborn was right. I'll found you, love.
We have still a long while to live. We'll stay together, and if it required, I'll die by your side like a man.
It would be sweet, like to sleep…
Elrond shot awake suddenly. The party had ended shortly after the moon's zenith, and he had retired for the night, informing
Glorfindel he would be gone by dawn, alone. He didn't stay to hear any complain: he simply went to his rooms, and fell in the
bed, exhausted, just barely managing to take off his mantle and sandals before to indulge into sweet sleep, that have been
avoiding him for days.
And he shot awake in the dreamy hour that precede morning, when all was blurry and indisntict, hearing a voice singing at him
softly, under his window.
The cool wind of dawn moved his endless white curtains. He walked there, and opened it with a impatient pull, and saw Arien
there, Staring up to him, singing so softly he barely heard her.
She was dressed like a elf maiden: long pale dress whirling in the wind, her hair free in the wind, crowned with flowers, pale
arms naked in the cold, barefoot. Elrond felt his heart skip a beat hearing her song, a need impossible to describe burning in his
heart as she slowly sang, her eyes unblinking. She seemed determinate, her cheeks blushed, her stare unwavering. Elrond
extended a hand to her, his breath quick, feeling the emptiness in his arms, and she, agile and skilled, set her toes in the ivy
curling around the wall and the balcony, and ascended in four defiant, anxious steps.
She fell into Elrond's arms, and he embraced her tightly, his voice caught.
- I'm sorry… I'm sorry…- he whispered, feeling her body against his, warmness and trembling invading every fiber of his
being.
She tilted her head and kissed him slowly, deeply. And Elrond answered in full force, hungry and through at time, his hands
lacing upwards in his waist to press her against him.
- I will not sail without you...- he whispered between kisses, her song in his head.
She was trembling, and she didn't decline his kisses, stronger and fiercer, and wasn't scarce with hers, her arms twining in
Elrond's neck like vines.
It wasn't dawn still, but Elrond could see perfectly their shadows mixed by the last stars in the glassy wooden floor. Slowly he
made his way to her neck, caressing her nape, letting her feel his moist breath, his steady, healer's hand.
- My Lord…-
- Another *lord* and I will spank you.- Elrond chuckled in his ear, breath short.- Tell me what do you want, Arien. Tell what
do you want from me…-
- I want your love, my Lord… Elrond… -
- You will have. But I want your entire being in return, my Arien… all.-
- Show me how the Elves love, my lord…- Arien gave a startled yip when Elrond, true at his word, pinched her roughly in the
thigh.
- I can't.- Elrond said, chuckling, breath hot in her face.- I am not Elf, my Arien. But let's discover how the Peredhils love...-
- Father? Are you in there?- Elladan strode into his father's chambers without even a knock, walk purposeful, riding gear
stained with dust from where he had been riding all morning.- Are you sick? Arwen is worried. Glorfindel said he has been
waiting with your horse ready all morning. What is that rumor about you're going into travel…?- Elladan stopped, suddenly.
His father was in his robe, hair brushed as usual, calmly tying the braids of his hair facing his mirror.
The bed was a royal mess of white bedding and coverlets.
- Tell Glorfindel I changed my mind. I will not leave Rivendell. Nor I am sick. I just… overslept.-
Elladan's eyebrows shot up into his hairline..
- I will be downstairs in a short while.- Elrond added, voice stern at the unspoken "You what?" in Elladan's expression.- Now,
kindly let me dress.-
Elladan hurried outside, amazed at the dangerous but happy mood of his father. He looked… alive. He eyed the door, with a
funny expression, and then shrugged. Always better than sad benevolence…
- Is he gone?-
- Love, you have the most amazing reflexes.- Elrond, letting himself rest in the wooden carved door, smirked eyeing Arien,
clad in nothing but the white tunic he wore the last night emerge from her hiding place under the bed. – But you didn't have to
do that, you know. My sons and Arwen would be surely delighted to welcome you.-
Arien smiled, but it was something in her smile. Elrond neared her, and pulling her arms, embraced her, and watched her at the
morning light.
No sadness.
No hidden suffering.
No fear.
Gone, as the snow at the sun.
But it wa something, still hidden.
Doubt? Do you dare to doubt my love, my Silmarien, my treasure?
She tiptoed, and Elrond kissed the daugther of Maeglin with slow tenderness. It was no trace of the two ardent humans in bed
last night: now it was the kiss a high king of elves would give to his betrothed, chaste and sweet, tenderly powerful, dominance
tempered by love.
And Arien threw her head back and smiled as Elrond lost himself in the pale column of her neck, feeling like a human
adolescent again.
Did anyone know? Elrond didn't know, and couldn't have cared less. He was happy, in the middle of the summer, high
blue sky painted with white pure clouds in the entire circle of the horizon, like a new Melian's Circle drawn by bliss. The sun
was deep golden, the light itself seemed clearer and fresher, and the trees sung in the breeze like elven voices.
He looked the same, but it was light in his eyes.
Slowly, starlit nights turned brilliant days, and Rivendell answered with shining dawns and perfect sunsets, even with fresh,
laughing rain in the afternoons. The wind was bolder, and Rivendell grew years in seconds, like the time that had stopped there
in a blossoming spring had finally reached his summer, the waterfalls exploding in strong torrents and crystal rainbows without
no shyness, no fear of be too perfect, too bright.
Elrond's hair in the wind, he laughed, and opened his arms, to the wind, feeling Arien's arms around him like she feared he
would vanish.
Mornings were light, blinding blue hours spent between blinding white covers, nested in peace and innocence and slow kisses,
each day a promise of happiness.
Afternoons where sun, where they ran and rode, free and powerful, or danced under the rain breathless, singing freely. Elrond
got to know each tone, each vibration of Arien's magical voice, head nested in her chest, making her sing even in his arms,
even when they were one, and felt the bliss almost menacing his sanity hearing her voice uniquely for him, expressing her love
in thousand inflections. She wasn't the eloquent lord he was, mouthing each sunset when their hair mixed like the sun
embraced the night all the words of love in all the idioms that had been spoken in the Middle Earth, ever. She expressed her
love in songs, in caresses, in long hours when his gaze tied hers and they stood quietly.
And nights were a dark mantle enveloping them, the darkness in Elrond's hair like a veil between them and the world as they
explored their love under the stars, free as the first elf that opened bewildered eyes, naked under the silver gaze of Elbereth.
Elrond called her name, lost in the threads of passion, his eyes falling closed when the zenith of his passion took him into the
stars and beyond, and slept with the dreams of the ones who know only happiness was beyond the dreams barrier.
A dream dreamed by a rose
No more tears
No more fear
You're in my arms, here with me…
She sung, and he dreamed.
He dreamed of hope, and love, and of the destiny of the men, and he didn't even flinch in his dream.
I will die with you, my love.
But first of all, we will live.
Elrond kissed her lips, asleep. And she answered, and with tears in her eyes, she left with the summer.
You will not die.
You must live forever, my love. I will not burden you.
Namarie…
In his dreams, he heard her singing, and he wetted his pillow with tears.
No…Silmarien, my silmaril…
Oh my love, it's you that I dream of
Oh my love since that day,
Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain
Doesn't matter what I do now, doesn't matter what I say
Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain
In the first cold morning, he whispered, feeling the chill biting his skin, a red jewel hanging from his hand.
I don't want this heart of stone. I want yours, beating, alive one…
And the wind became the most terrible storm.
Summer Rain © Belinda Carlisle