Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's characters and receive only joy from
them, not profit. Original fictional characters and any mistakes are mine
alone.
Description: Drama, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy. Story takes starts in the summer of 2760 (Third Age) and continues for the next year-about 350 years before the War of the Ring. Pairing: Elrohir/OFC. No slash. Rating: PG-13 for adult themes.
Acknowledgements: Many warm thanks to my beta extraordinaire, Antoinette, for her wonderful comments and encouragement. This lady knows her stuff! Also to Lady Anne (she knows who she is), for her unstinting support and great suggestions.
"A storyteller is a bit of a seer, a bit of a doer and a bit of a liar."- Bess the Bard
Gilrond's Children
Prologue
The book was a work of art. The covers, front and back, were gold with inlays of pearl, lapis lazuli and truesilver, also called mithril. Graceful designs of trees, birds and fountains were worked in the precious metal. The pages themselves were breathtaking in their splendor. At the beginning of each page and in the margins were tiny masterpieces, vividly painted scenes of beautiful cities, mighty warriors and graceful maidens. Such craftsmanship as went into the making of the book was lost in the mists of ages past. The magnificence of the tome was in keeping with the heroic and tragic tales told in its pages. Though fewer and fewer could read the language of its authors, the book was treasured and revered. And few indeed were those that knew that it was not a book of myth, but a true account of times nearly forgotten.
A dark figure appeared in the vaulted chamber that lay silent in the empty watches of the night. The figure moved confidently in the darkness, seeming to need little light. Strong graceful hands lifted the book from the marble pedestal where it was kept in honor. The book was opened and the fingers deftly turned past the pages of battles, quests and histories. All the way to the back cover of the book, which seemed curiously thick. A carving of two entwined swans was picked out in gold leaf on the inside back cover.
The hands gave a strange twist to the wing of one of the swans and a secret compartment opened. The opening was about the size of a man's hand. In the cavity was a small pouch, the leather worn but still supple. Inside was an exquisitely worked brooch of mithril in the shape of two entwined swans, akin to that in the book. It glowed faintly in the dim chamber. The compartment was closed and the brooch disappeared into the recesses of a dark cloak.
Only the silent figure in the chamber knew that the splendidly wrought volume did not tell all the history, good and evil, of those who went before. For of one evil no story was told, and no song was devised by the creators of the book. Those who had lived through what happened kept it long a secret. They talked of it only in whispers and secret councils amongst themselves. And in the silence, the secret evil turned shame into despair, guilt into bitterness and grief into hatred. So the evil had lived on in the dark, locked away in the heart of that long-forgotten world. Pondering these thoughts, the dark figure replaced the book on its pedestal and silently slipped from the room, vanishing into shadow.
**************************************************************************** ******
In the twilight of the Third Age, there were still some Elves left in Middle Earth. Many had fled to the Undying Lands in the West and continued to do so, taking ship from the Gray Havens. So those that lingered gathered in what islands of grace and beauty remained to them. Rivendell; Mithlond and the Falas; Lothlorien and Mirkwood near the Lonely Mountain. There was still some congress between these enclaves, especially between Rivendell, refuge of Elrond, and Lothlorien, home of Galadriel and Celeborn.
**************************************************************************** *****
It was late spring and the melting snows of the Misty Mountains swelled the streams that ran through the valley of Imladris. Pine and beech trees on the rugged hillsides gave off rich pungent scents of rebirth. Fair and tall, the brothers Celemedril and Eömeril prepared horse and pack for their journey back to their home in the Golden Wood. They had come to escort their sister, Eloëssa, on her return trip. She had been visiting the house of Elrond Half-Elven for some time.
She came often to Rivendell and on this visit her heart had begun to yearn for Elrond's son, Elrohir. But though he was noble and generous to her, she did not receive the response she sought. So it was that she was not completely sorry to hear the summons her brothers brought from the Lady Galadriel. It seemed the Lady of the Golden Wood missed the delightful singing and exquisite needlework of her favorite handmaiden Eloessa, daughter of Gilrond.
In her spacious chamber inside the large house, Eloessa prepared at last to leave Rivendell. Before she left, she presented her friend Arwen with a wall hanging of finest silk on which was depicted in both painting and needlework a poignant rendering of Rivendell in spring. It captured the wistful beauty of her home that Arwen always perceived when she came back to Imladris after a long time away. Arwen had described her feelings vividly one night in the Hall of Elrond. Eloessa listened and had tried to evoke that feeling in the creation for her friend.
Arwen spread it out on the bed to see it better. "Thank you, Eloessa. It's magnificent! You honor me with such a gift. I'll hang it where all may see it. They will believe that Meriel Serinde, the Broideress of Valinor, has come to Middle Earth."
Eloessa blushed with pleasure. "I'm glad you like it. I wanted to make you something special. You and Lord Elrond always make me feel so at home here." Eloessa looked out at the pristine hidden valley that beckoned from her window. "I almost hate to leave."
Arwen stood and embraced her friend, kissing her on the cheek. "I will miss you so. Having you here has reminded me of our youngest days running through the Golden Wood, hiding from our brothers."
Arwen stepped back from Eloessa, eyes bright with amusement. "I remember the time I dared you and you climbed up in that tree and jumped on Elrohir to knock him off his horse as he rode beneath."
Arwen laughed at the memory. "He had been bragging for days what a woodsman he was, with senses like a hawk, unable to be taken by surprise. And then you came flying out of the tree, howling like a warg, and knocked him flat on his, er, wounded pride. He looked he was going to explode. I never laughed so hard in my life."
"You laughed so hard you fell out of the tree, too." Eloessa reminded her friend.
She grinned. "His horse ran off, so Elrohir chased us all the way back to Caras Galadhron. We ran shrieking up to the gates and the guard started sounding the alarm on his horn, and archers appeared at the walls. Lord Celeborn was at the gate, too, and came running out with his sword drawn. I thought he was going to slice us all into small pieces, he was so angry."
The friends laughed even harder at that, holding on to each other in their mirth. In the end, Lord Celeborn had made all three miscreants serve at meals in the officers' barracks for a month as punishment.
"Oh, it is good to laugh, Arwen. My soul feels lighter than it has in days. Thank you." Eloessa said, flurries of laughter continuing to erupt from her for several more moments.
Arwen sighed. "I wish you did not have to leave now. It will be many months, maybe even years before I may journey back to Lothlorien. My father requires my assistance in his governance while my brothers are away so much."
She gave a sideways look at her friend. "I was surprised Elrohir stayed as long as he has on this visit. I wonder what has kept him at home?" she mused in an innocent tone.
Eloessa looked sharply at Arwen. "We both know it was not me that kept him here. He already made that perfectly clear." She busied herself putting clothes and other items into a small wooden chest.
Arwen shook her head. She could not explain why her brother had spurned Eloessa's confession of love, when Arwen firmly believed he returned the feeling in full measure. Elrohir had cannily avoided his sister in the last few days, though she was determined to corner him and get a full explanation. But Arwen accepted Eloessa's silent plea for now and left the tender subject alone.
The dark haired Elf folded beautifully embroidered silks and put them in the chest. She knew they were her friend's handiwork. "It is no mystery why Lady Galadriel wants you back. She said many times she has never seen anyone possess the talent and imagination with needle and thread that you do. The quality of her work must be suffering without you there." She teased Eloessa.
Eloessa said simply. "The other women are as capable as I of doing the work. But I really want to go home, Arwen. I need to be at home." Arwen looked at her friend and nodded in understanding. She picked up some of Eloessa's belongings and left to deliver them to the servant waiting in the hall.
Once Arwen was gone, Eloessa opened a carved box and withdrew the object nestled within. A faint light seemed to issue from it. She cupped it in her hand a moment and closed her eyes as if in memory or blessing. Then she quickly slipped the item into a small pouch and followed her friend out of the room. She could delay her departure no longer.
**************************************************************************** ********
The Lady Galadriel had warned Eloessa's brothers to leave Rivendell before the advent of laer, the summer season. There had been word of Men of Dunland, on the road in the service of the growing Darkness, and news of Orcs in the passes of the Misty Mountains, making them unsafe for travelers. Summer was nearly upon them, so the two brothers were trying to prepare for the return journey, but with mixed success.
"Do you know what that vixen has done now?" The voice of male outrage reached Eomeril in the stable of Rivendell. Eomeril grinned at this description of his sister as he swung the light Elven saddle onto his horse. But he quickly smoothed his expression into one of brotherly commiseration when Celemedril stalked through the stable door.
His brother fumed, "She just sent a messenger, 'oh, she could not possibly come herself, my lord'; to present me with four more bags and chests she simply cannot leave behind! The woman has already laden that poor packhorse with so much baggage it will take a wizard to get it over the Mountains. If we have a single problem, she will be the first thing I leave behind on the trail!" Celemedril kicked the stall door nearest to him in frustration, causing the great bay stallion within to trumpet his disapproval and kick out at the walls of the stable.
"Compose yourself, brother," Eomeril advised and went to calm the horse. "That is Lord Elrond's favorite mount. If he injures himself due to your display of temper, it will be long indeed before we are allowed to return to Rivendell."
Celemedril gave a rueful laugh and stepped into the stallion's stall behind his brother to assure himself the animal had taken no harm. "You speak the truth there. I am fairly certain Elrond favors Arwen over this beast, but I'm not sure that his sons rate so high." Both brothers laughed at that, quietly, remembering the high-strung stallion. They knew Elrond was a kind and indulgent father to all his children, even as he was accounted one of the wisest of all the Elves.
Eomeril said with a smile, "Eloessa certainly rates Elrohir highly. I am amazed a son of Elrond can be so thick as to not realize her feelings. Her eyes follow every move he makes. She finds excuses to be in the same room with him. It would be embarrassing if Elrohir actually appeared to notice. If Elladan were here, he would give his brother no peace about such an ardent admirer."
Eomeril shook his head in exasperation. "Every song she sings is a love ballad. Last week she wouldn't even sing my favorite song, about the War of Wrath. She said Elrohir appreciates songs of gentleness and beauty, not the clash of battle! Well, I predict she will cause him to discover he loves her any day now. Then she will graciously inform you that you may now consent to the marriage!" Eomeril had faith in his sister's ability to get what she wanted, being well acquainted with her determination, or stubbornness, as he preferred to call it.
Celemedril's expression turned somber. "Eloessa came to me two days ago. I think she had actually been weeping. I haven't seen her cry since we were children." The hurt in his sister's eyes had struck him unexpectedly deep. He had determined to do what he could to make those eyes flash with laughter or indignation at brotherly barbs once again.
"She said she confessed her feelings to Elrohir and he told her he could not give his heart freely." Celemedril revealed. "I went to him myself to see if he had formed another attachment or had objections to the match. He said he loves no other and has no objection to the match. But he was adamant that he could not accept the love or the hand of Eloessa, and would give no reason why."
Celemedril finished bitterly. "I begin to wonder if the son of Elrond, grandson of Galadriel, believes our sister is too far beneath him for marriage."
Eomeril was silent. He had blithely thought that once Elrohir was made aware of the depth of Eloessa's feelings, he would at least find himself fond of her. Elrohir was a great friend of many years, back to the days when the children of Elrond and Gilrond all resided together in the great house at the top of the mallorn tree in Lorien. Eomeril had been looking forward to having Elrohir as a brother by marriage. He had elaborate plans for how the two of them would drive Celemedril to distraction for years to come.
He finally said thoughtfully. "I cannot believe the Elrohir we know would think our sister, the daughter of Gilrond and Evasta of Lorien, is unfit to be his wife. There must be another reason."
Eomeril chided his brother. "A man can with honor refuse a match when he believes he cannot return the affection of his future wife. An unbalanced union with all the love on one side and mere respect on the other would be miserable for both. I know you want better than that for Eloessa."
"Oh, but he does want her," Celemedril said with an unaccustomed sneer in his voice. "Once I had spoken to him I began to watch him closely. When she is not looking at him and he thinks he is unobserved, there is a hunger for her in his eyes that nearly consumes him. I know Eloessa would never consent, but I think he would bed her without vows quickly enough. Yet he will not tie himself to her in marriage. The only reason for that can be his pride of house."
Eomeril shook his head. He knew that pride in his heritage was something Celemedril was passionate about. He wondered if it could be coloring his brother's views of Elrohir's refusal to wed their sister. After all, Celemedril was the eldest brother and the most proud of his Noldorin and Sindarin heritage. Their father Gilrond had followed the Lady Galadriel and her brothers out of the Utter West and had looked upon the light of the Silmarils, which contained the light of the Trees of the Valar. Their mother was a Sindarin Elf of great fairness, Evasta of the Glade.
Evasta and Gilrond labored long and faithfully in the service of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. They had been rewarded with the love and honor of the rulers of Lorien. The children of Evasta and Gilrond were favorites of Galadriel, and fostered in her own household. There they played freely with Galadriel's own grandchildren, the offspring of Elrond and Celebrian.
Eomeril remembered his family life as carefree and happy in the Golden Wood. The three siblings knew they were the focus of wise and loving parents long after they became adults themselves.
Yet when the Dwarves awakened the ancient evil in Moria and fled the Misty Mountains before its wrath, many Elves of Lothlorien felt that the Dark Power would never be overcome in Middle Earth and determined to leave its shores. Evasta and Gilrond did not cower before Durin's Bane, but they saw that the age of the First Children of Iluvitar was passing. Gilrond yearned to see Tol Eressea, the Lonely Isle, once more. After taking much counsel with Galadriel and Celeborn, and between themselves, Evasta and Gilrond reached their decision. They commended the younger children, Eömeril and Eloëssa, to the care of their elder brother. Then with much sadness but little regret, they took ship from the Grey Havens and were never again seen in Middle Earth.
Now, Eomeril watched Celemedril tighten the belly strap on his horse with unnecessary force. The horse's breath exploded from him and the animal turned an accusing gaze on his master. Celemedril rubbed his mount's nose apologetically and loosened the strap a bit. Eomeril thought his brother might be better off alone for awhile.
"I think I shall go see if I can get all Eloessa's luggage stowed away on that pack horse. If she won't bother to attend to it herself, I cannot be blamed if some things just happen to get left behind, can I?" Eomeril said it in an innocent tone, hoping to tease a grin out of his brother. The brothers would always unite on two matters where it concerned their sister: either to protect her, or more often, to aggravate her.
This time, however, Celemedril did not respond to the jibe. He remained lost in his own thoughts for several minutes. Then he spoke in the silence that had fallen in the stable. "I was warned by Elrond last night about the dangers of the journey over the Mountains, and yet again by Elrohir just this morning. Elrohir acted as if I was the greenest recruit off on his own for the first time."
The brothers' trip to Imladris had been uneventful. They had seen old camps of Orcs in the passes and occasionally heard the howls of their Wargs, but he and Eomeril had encountered no trouble in the Mountains.
Celemedril mocked the son of Elrond's serious manner. "Do not underestimate the Orcs, my friend. Travel only in daylight. Light no fires. Tarry not anywhere this side of the Golden Wood. Let no night go without a constant watch."
Celemedril growled under his breath. "The man apparently thinks I am a low- blooded fool".
Eomeril looked slightly alarmed at the aggressive tone in his brother's voice. "What did you say to him?"
"Why, I thanked him politely, of course. I am my mother's son, after all." But he had kept his own counsel about the journey. His resentment about Elrohir's response to a proposed match had been clear.
A union with the House of Elrond would have been welcome to this proud Elven warrior. Though he had come out of Valinor, Gilrond had been of no royal house and his marriage to Evasta had been a happy but not ambitious one. Celemedril looked higher, for himself and his family.
Eomeril reminded his brother gently, "His warnings are to be expected since his mother was taken by Orcs in the Misty Mountains. You know she was seriously wounded before she was rescued by her sons and healed by Elrond. But you dismiss the warnings of Elrohir as the anxieties of one who, once burned, now fears every candle and cook fire. The dangers he spoke of are real."
The elder brother said irritably. "I am not a fool. I intend to go warily in the Mountains. As long as we are careful there is nothing to fear." He turned back to his horse. "Now finish getting ready so we can leave."
Celemedril spent quite awhile preparing his mount for the journey, double- checking to make sure he had all the needed supplies. He looked over to make sure Eomeril was doing the same and realized his brother was gone.
"It's just like that scapegrace, never here when you need him." He said impatiently. He checked the dark interior of the stable to make sure. Then he looked out into the bright morning sun washing over the courtyard of Elrond's house.
Celemedril moved to stand in the open stable door, watching Eömeril lead their sister's horse, a delicate yet spirited gray mare named Vesta, and the sturdy but woeful-looking pack pony.
"If our sister lingers any longer over her farewells, we will still be here this time tomorrow" Eomeril said cheerfully. "She is still taking her leave over at the house."
Celemedril watched his brother feed the horses sweets he no doubt swiped from the kitchens. "Probably stole them while he kissed the maid he flirted with last night at dinner." Celemedril muttered with affectionate exasperation. "I saw him with her in the Hall this morning, too."
Celemedril knew his brother was deadly with a bow but his nimble fingers plucked harp string with as great a skill as bowstring and his gray eyes lit with laughter at least as often as fatal intent. The lad certainly had won his way into the hearts, and beds of enough women over the Age, the elder brother thought wryly.
Eomeril left family ambitions to his older brother and wandered widely throughout the western lands of Middle Earth, even (to his brother's disdain) visiting Dwarvish-carved cities in Erebor. Celemedril often told Eomeril he should find a proper Elf maiden to settle down with in Lorien and take up a position in the household guard. But, much as he missed having Eomeril at home more often, he knew his brother was not made for such a settled life.
"We have already missed starting before breakfast", Celemedril acknowledged now, stepping out into the courtyard. "Let us see if we can still start before lunch." He strode to the porch of Elrond's house, where Eloëssa still was talking with her many friends. "Sister, your good-byes will be of little use unless we actually leave. Come, we must be off!"
He motioned to Eömeril to bring the mare forward, so Eloëssa was left with little choice but to mount and at last leave Imladris. Celemedril held the reins of the brothers' horses and waited impatiently for his sister.
Eloessa shared the fair hair and coloring of most Elves of Lorien, though her hair was more golden than many. The early summer sunshine illuminated her golden fall of hair so it was almost too fair to look upon, or so it seemed to one particular watcher.
Unshed tears in her eyes, Eloessa looked at Arwen, her childhood confidant. Arwen embraced the heartbroken Lorien Elf. "Do not despair, my friend. Elrohir is a complex man. He feels things deeply and does not show it easily." Arwen said encouragingly.
"You are different." Arwen said. "You know what you want, and how you feel. Then you act on it. You are beautifully open to life and all that may come your way. I think Elrohir envies you that, but admires you, too."
Arwen looked over at her brother who was standing apart from those gathered to say farewell. She whispered in Eloessa's ear, sounding more like a little sister than a dignified Elf lady of over two thousand years, "I will work on him for you. Give him a push in the right direction." Eloessa looked horrified at this, but her friend winked and said "Trust me."
Eloessa shook her head and whispered "Look after him for me."
She turned and walked over to her host. "Farewell, Master Elrond." She bowed to him slightly. "I will take your messages and give them personally to the Lady Galadriel."
Elrond looked kindly at his departing guest, aware of the complex emotions swirling about him. "Come to see us again soon, my dear. Safe journey and may a star shine upon you always."
Eloessa then quickly walked down the steps to the courtyard. She was surprised to see that Elrohir rather than her brother now stood beside her mare, waiting to help her mount. She met his gaze but his expression was closed. She needed little assistance into the saddle but she allowed him to set his strong hands about her waist and lift her upon her horse.
Did she imagine it or did his hands linger longer than absolutely necessary? But still he did not speak, so she must be mistaken. It did not change what she was about to do.
She looked steadily down into the eyes of Elrohir and knew she would never love another. "Farewell, Elrohir, son of Elrond. Though you want it not and have so far valued it little, I leave my heart here in Imladris, in your keeping. Unless you can return it in full measure and in kind, I care not to have it back."
As she said these words, she held out her hand. Elrohir reached up to grasp it and she pressed the small leather pouch she held into his palm. His fist closed around it automatically and he looked as if he would speak.
Eloessa gave him no chance. She wheeled the gray mare and fled up the valley path guarded by beeches, the white watchers. Celemedril and Eömeril, now mounted, saluted Elrond from their horses and galloped up the track after their sister. The sun dimmed behind a cloud. Elrond gazed at his son a moment, sighed, then turned and went inside with Arwen. Elrohir, his fist still clenched around Eloessa's token, stood in the courtyard watching long after the riders disappeared from sight, his heart deeply troubled.
Description: Drama, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy. Story takes starts in the summer of 2760 (Third Age) and continues for the next year-about 350 years before the War of the Ring. Pairing: Elrohir/OFC. No slash. Rating: PG-13 for adult themes.
Acknowledgements: Many warm thanks to my beta extraordinaire, Antoinette, for her wonderful comments and encouragement. This lady knows her stuff! Also to Lady Anne (she knows who she is), for her unstinting support and great suggestions.
"A storyteller is a bit of a seer, a bit of a doer and a bit of a liar."- Bess the Bard
Gilrond's Children
Prologue
The book was a work of art. The covers, front and back, were gold with inlays of pearl, lapis lazuli and truesilver, also called mithril. Graceful designs of trees, birds and fountains were worked in the precious metal. The pages themselves were breathtaking in their splendor. At the beginning of each page and in the margins were tiny masterpieces, vividly painted scenes of beautiful cities, mighty warriors and graceful maidens. Such craftsmanship as went into the making of the book was lost in the mists of ages past. The magnificence of the tome was in keeping with the heroic and tragic tales told in its pages. Though fewer and fewer could read the language of its authors, the book was treasured and revered. And few indeed were those that knew that it was not a book of myth, but a true account of times nearly forgotten.
A dark figure appeared in the vaulted chamber that lay silent in the empty watches of the night. The figure moved confidently in the darkness, seeming to need little light. Strong graceful hands lifted the book from the marble pedestal where it was kept in honor. The book was opened and the fingers deftly turned past the pages of battles, quests and histories. All the way to the back cover of the book, which seemed curiously thick. A carving of two entwined swans was picked out in gold leaf on the inside back cover.
The hands gave a strange twist to the wing of one of the swans and a secret compartment opened. The opening was about the size of a man's hand. In the cavity was a small pouch, the leather worn but still supple. Inside was an exquisitely worked brooch of mithril in the shape of two entwined swans, akin to that in the book. It glowed faintly in the dim chamber. The compartment was closed and the brooch disappeared into the recesses of a dark cloak.
Only the silent figure in the chamber knew that the splendidly wrought volume did not tell all the history, good and evil, of those who went before. For of one evil no story was told, and no song was devised by the creators of the book. Those who had lived through what happened kept it long a secret. They talked of it only in whispers and secret councils amongst themselves. And in the silence, the secret evil turned shame into despair, guilt into bitterness and grief into hatred. So the evil had lived on in the dark, locked away in the heart of that long-forgotten world. Pondering these thoughts, the dark figure replaced the book on its pedestal and silently slipped from the room, vanishing into shadow.
**************************************************************************** ******
In the twilight of the Third Age, there were still some Elves left in Middle Earth. Many had fled to the Undying Lands in the West and continued to do so, taking ship from the Gray Havens. So those that lingered gathered in what islands of grace and beauty remained to them. Rivendell; Mithlond and the Falas; Lothlorien and Mirkwood near the Lonely Mountain. There was still some congress between these enclaves, especially between Rivendell, refuge of Elrond, and Lothlorien, home of Galadriel and Celeborn.
**************************************************************************** *****
It was late spring and the melting snows of the Misty Mountains swelled the streams that ran through the valley of Imladris. Pine and beech trees on the rugged hillsides gave off rich pungent scents of rebirth. Fair and tall, the brothers Celemedril and Eömeril prepared horse and pack for their journey back to their home in the Golden Wood. They had come to escort their sister, Eloëssa, on her return trip. She had been visiting the house of Elrond Half-Elven for some time.
She came often to Rivendell and on this visit her heart had begun to yearn for Elrond's son, Elrohir. But though he was noble and generous to her, she did not receive the response she sought. So it was that she was not completely sorry to hear the summons her brothers brought from the Lady Galadriel. It seemed the Lady of the Golden Wood missed the delightful singing and exquisite needlework of her favorite handmaiden Eloessa, daughter of Gilrond.
In her spacious chamber inside the large house, Eloessa prepared at last to leave Rivendell. Before she left, she presented her friend Arwen with a wall hanging of finest silk on which was depicted in both painting and needlework a poignant rendering of Rivendell in spring. It captured the wistful beauty of her home that Arwen always perceived when she came back to Imladris after a long time away. Arwen had described her feelings vividly one night in the Hall of Elrond. Eloessa listened and had tried to evoke that feeling in the creation for her friend.
Arwen spread it out on the bed to see it better. "Thank you, Eloessa. It's magnificent! You honor me with such a gift. I'll hang it where all may see it. They will believe that Meriel Serinde, the Broideress of Valinor, has come to Middle Earth."
Eloessa blushed with pleasure. "I'm glad you like it. I wanted to make you something special. You and Lord Elrond always make me feel so at home here." Eloessa looked out at the pristine hidden valley that beckoned from her window. "I almost hate to leave."
Arwen stood and embraced her friend, kissing her on the cheek. "I will miss you so. Having you here has reminded me of our youngest days running through the Golden Wood, hiding from our brothers."
Arwen stepped back from Eloessa, eyes bright with amusement. "I remember the time I dared you and you climbed up in that tree and jumped on Elrohir to knock him off his horse as he rode beneath."
Arwen laughed at the memory. "He had been bragging for days what a woodsman he was, with senses like a hawk, unable to be taken by surprise. And then you came flying out of the tree, howling like a warg, and knocked him flat on his, er, wounded pride. He looked he was going to explode. I never laughed so hard in my life."
"You laughed so hard you fell out of the tree, too." Eloessa reminded her friend.
She grinned. "His horse ran off, so Elrohir chased us all the way back to Caras Galadhron. We ran shrieking up to the gates and the guard started sounding the alarm on his horn, and archers appeared at the walls. Lord Celeborn was at the gate, too, and came running out with his sword drawn. I thought he was going to slice us all into small pieces, he was so angry."
The friends laughed even harder at that, holding on to each other in their mirth. In the end, Lord Celeborn had made all three miscreants serve at meals in the officers' barracks for a month as punishment.
"Oh, it is good to laugh, Arwen. My soul feels lighter than it has in days. Thank you." Eloessa said, flurries of laughter continuing to erupt from her for several more moments.
Arwen sighed. "I wish you did not have to leave now. It will be many months, maybe even years before I may journey back to Lothlorien. My father requires my assistance in his governance while my brothers are away so much."
She gave a sideways look at her friend. "I was surprised Elrohir stayed as long as he has on this visit. I wonder what has kept him at home?" she mused in an innocent tone.
Eloessa looked sharply at Arwen. "We both know it was not me that kept him here. He already made that perfectly clear." She busied herself putting clothes and other items into a small wooden chest.
Arwen shook her head. She could not explain why her brother had spurned Eloessa's confession of love, when Arwen firmly believed he returned the feeling in full measure. Elrohir had cannily avoided his sister in the last few days, though she was determined to corner him and get a full explanation. But Arwen accepted Eloessa's silent plea for now and left the tender subject alone.
The dark haired Elf folded beautifully embroidered silks and put them in the chest. She knew they were her friend's handiwork. "It is no mystery why Lady Galadriel wants you back. She said many times she has never seen anyone possess the talent and imagination with needle and thread that you do. The quality of her work must be suffering without you there." She teased Eloessa.
Eloessa said simply. "The other women are as capable as I of doing the work. But I really want to go home, Arwen. I need to be at home." Arwen looked at her friend and nodded in understanding. She picked up some of Eloessa's belongings and left to deliver them to the servant waiting in the hall.
Once Arwen was gone, Eloessa opened a carved box and withdrew the object nestled within. A faint light seemed to issue from it. She cupped it in her hand a moment and closed her eyes as if in memory or blessing. Then she quickly slipped the item into a small pouch and followed her friend out of the room. She could delay her departure no longer.
**************************************************************************** ********
The Lady Galadriel had warned Eloessa's brothers to leave Rivendell before the advent of laer, the summer season. There had been word of Men of Dunland, on the road in the service of the growing Darkness, and news of Orcs in the passes of the Misty Mountains, making them unsafe for travelers. Summer was nearly upon them, so the two brothers were trying to prepare for the return journey, but with mixed success.
"Do you know what that vixen has done now?" The voice of male outrage reached Eomeril in the stable of Rivendell. Eomeril grinned at this description of his sister as he swung the light Elven saddle onto his horse. But he quickly smoothed his expression into one of brotherly commiseration when Celemedril stalked through the stable door.
His brother fumed, "She just sent a messenger, 'oh, she could not possibly come herself, my lord'; to present me with four more bags and chests she simply cannot leave behind! The woman has already laden that poor packhorse with so much baggage it will take a wizard to get it over the Mountains. If we have a single problem, she will be the first thing I leave behind on the trail!" Celemedril kicked the stall door nearest to him in frustration, causing the great bay stallion within to trumpet his disapproval and kick out at the walls of the stable.
"Compose yourself, brother," Eomeril advised and went to calm the horse. "That is Lord Elrond's favorite mount. If he injures himself due to your display of temper, it will be long indeed before we are allowed to return to Rivendell."
Celemedril gave a rueful laugh and stepped into the stallion's stall behind his brother to assure himself the animal had taken no harm. "You speak the truth there. I am fairly certain Elrond favors Arwen over this beast, but I'm not sure that his sons rate so high." Both brothers laughed at that, quietly, remembering the high-strung stallion. They knew Elrond was a kind and indulgent father to all his children, even as he was accounted one of the wisest of all the Elves.
Eomeril said with a smile, "Eloessa certainly rates Elrohir highly. I am amazed a son of Elrond can be so thick as to not realize her feelings. Her eyes follow every move he makes. She finds excuses to be in the same room with him. It would be embarrassing if Elrohir actually appeared to notice. If Elladan were here, he would give his brother no peace about such an ardent admirer."
Eomeril shook his head in exasperation. "Every song she sings is a love ballad. Last week she wouldn't even sing my favorite song, about the War of Wrath. She said Elrohir appreciates songs of gentleness and beauty, not the clash of battle! Well, I predict she will cause him to discover he loves her any day now. Then she will graciously inform you that you may now consent to the marriage!" Eomeril had faith in his sister's ability to get what she wanted, being well acquainted with her determination, or stubbornness, as he preferred to call it.
Celemedril's expression turned somber. "Eloessa came to me two days ago. I think she had actually been weeping. I haven't seen her cry since we were children." The hurt in his sister's eyes had struck him unexpectedly deep. He had determined to do what he could to make those eyes flash with laughter or indignation at brotherly barbs once again.
"She said she confessed her feelings to Elrohir and he told her he could not give his heart freely." Celemedril revealed. "I went to him myself to see if he had formed another attachment or had objections to the match. He said he loves no other and has no objection to the match. But he was adamant that he could not accept the love or the hand of Eloessa, and would give no reason why."
Celemedril finished bitterly. "I begin to wonder if the son of Elrond, grandson of Galadriel, believes our sister is too far beneath him for marriage."
Eomeril was silent. He had blithely thought that once Elrohir was made aware of the depth of Eloessa's feelings, he would at least find himself fond of her. Elrohir was a great friend of many years, back to the days when the children of Elrond and Gilrond all resided together in the great house at the top of the mallorn tree in Lorien. Eomeril had been looking forward to having Elrohir as a brother by marriage. He had elaborate plans for how the two of them would drive Celemedril to distraction for years to come.
He finally said thoughtfully. "I cannot believe the Elrohir we know would think our sister, the daughter of Gilrond and Evasta of Lorien, is unfit to be his wife. There must be another reason."
Eomeril chided his brother. "A man can with honor refuse a match when he believes he cannot return the affection of his future wife. An unbalanced union with all the love on one side and mere respect on the other would be miserable for both. I know you want better than that for Eloessa."
"Oh, but he does want her," Celemedril said with an unaccustomed sneer in his voice. "Once I had spoken to him I began to watch him closely. When she is not looking at him and he thinks he is unobserved, there is a hunger for her in his eyes that nearly consumes him. I know Eloessa would never consent, but I think he would bed her without vows quickly enough. Yet he will not tie himself to her in marriage. The only reason for that can be his pride of house."
Eomeril shook his head. He knew that pride in his heritage was something Celemedril was passionate about. He wondered if it could be coloring his brother's views of Elrohir's refusal to wed their sister. After all, Celemedril was the eldest brother and the most proud of his Noldorin and Sindarin heritage. Their father Gilrond had followed the Lady Galadriel and her brothers out of the Utter West and had looked upon the light of the Silmarils, which contained the light of the Trees of the Valar. Their mother was a Sindarin Elf of great fairness, Evasta of the Glade.
Evasta and Gilrond labored long and faithfully in the service of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. They had been rewarded with the love and honor of the rulers of Lorien. The children of Evasta and Gilrond were favorites of Galadriel, and fostered in her own household. There they played freely with Galadriel's own grandchildren, the offspring of Elrond and Celebrian.
Eomeril remembered his family life as carefree and happy in the Golden Wood. The three siblings knew they were the focus of wise and loving parents long after they became adults themselves.
Yet when the Dwarves awakened the ancient evil in Moria and fled the Misty Mountains before its wrath, many Elves of Lothlorien felt that the Dark Power would never be overcome in Middle Earth and determined to leave its shores. Evasta and Gilrond did not cower before Durin's Bane, but they saw that the age of the First Children of Iluvitar was passing. Gilrond yearned to see Tol Eressea, the Lonely Isle, once more. After taking much counsel with Galadriel and Celeborn, and between themselves, Evasta and Gilrond reached their decision. They commended the younger children, Eömeril and Eloëssa, to the care of their elder brother. Then with much sadness but little regret, they took ship from the Grey Havens and were never again seen in Middle Earth.
Now, Eomeril watched Celemedril tighten the belly strap on his horse with unnecessary force. The horse's breath exploded from him and the animal turned an accusing gaze on his master. Celemedril rubbed his mount's nose apologetically and loosened the strap a bit. Eomeril thought his brother might be better off alone for awhile.
"I think I shall go see if I can get all Eloessa's luggage stowed away on that pack horse. If she won't bother to attend to it herself, I cannot be blamed if some things just happen to get left behind, can I?" Eomeril said it in an innocent tone, hoping to tease a grin out of his brother. The brothers would always unite on two matters where it concerned their sister: either to protect her, or more often, to aggravate her.
This time, however, Celemedril did not respond to the jibe. He remained lost in his own thoughts for several minutes. Then he spoke in the silence that had fallen in the stable. "I was warned by Elrond last night about the dangers of the journey over the Mountains, and yet again by Elrohir just this morning. Elrohir acted as if I was the greenest recruit off on his own for the first time."
The brothers' trip to Imladris had been uneventful. They had seen old camps of Orcs in the passes and occasionally heard the howls of their Wargs, but he and Eomeril had encountered no trouble in the Mountains.
Celemedril mocked the son of Elrond's serious manner. "Do not underestimate the Orcs, my friend. Travel only in daylight. Light no fires. Tarry not anywhere this side of the Golden Wood. Let no night go without a constant watch."
Celemedril growled under his breath. "The man apparently thinks I am a low- blooded fool".
Eomeril looked slightly alarmed at the aggressive tone in his brother's voice. "What did you say to him?"
"Why, I thanked him politely, of course. I am my mother's son, after all." But he had kept his own counsel about the journey. His resentment about Elrohir's response to a proposed match had been clear.
A union with the House of Elrond would have been welcome to this proud Elven warrior. Though he had come out of Valinor, Gilrond had been of no royal house and his marriage to Evasta had been a happy but not ambitious one. Celemedril looked higher, for himself and his family.
Eomeril reminded his brother gently, "His warnings are to be expected since his mother was taken by Orcs in the Misty Mountains. You know she was seriously wounded before she was rescued by her sons and healed by Elrond. But you dismiss the warnings of Elrohir as the anxieties of one who, once burned, now fears every candle and cook fire. The dangers he spoke of are real."
The elder brother said irritably. "I am not a fool. I intend to go warily in the Mountains. As long as we are careful there is nothing to fear." He turned back to his horse. "Now finish getting ready so we can leave."
Celemedril spent quite awhile preparing his mount for the journey, double- checking to make sure he had all the needed supplies. He looked over to make sure Eomeril was doing the same and realized his brother was gone.
"It's just like that scapegrace, never here when you need him." He said impatiently. He checked the dark interior of the stable to make sure. Then he looked out into the bright morning sun washing over the courtyard of Elrond's house.
Celemedril moved to stand in the open stable door, watching Eömeril lead their sister's horse, a delicate yet spirited gray mare named Vesta, and the sturdy but woeful-looking pack pony.
"If our sister lingers any longer over her farewells, we will still be here this time tomorrow" Eomeril said cheerfully. "She is still taking her leave over at the house."
Celemedril watched his brother feed the horses sweets he no doubt swiped from the kitchens. "Probably stole them while he kissed the maid he flirted with last night at dinner." Celemedril muttered with affectionate exasperation. "I saw him with her in the Hall this morning, too."
Celemedril knew his brother was deadly with a bow but his nimble fingers plucked harp string with as great a skill as bowstring and his gray eyes lit with laughter at least as often as fatal intent. The lad certainly had won his way into the hearts, and beds of enough women over the Age, the elder brother thought wryly.
Eomeril left family ambitions to his older brother and wandered widely throughout the western lands of Middle Earth, even (to his brother's disdain) visiting Dwarvish-carved cities in Erebor. Celemedril often told Eomeril he should find a proper Elf maiden to settle down with in Lorien and take up a position in the household guard. But, much as he missed having Eomeril at home more often, he knew his brother was not made for such a settled life.
"We have already missed starting before breakfast", Celemedril acknowledged now, stepping out into the courtyard. "Let us see if we can still start before lunch." He strode to the porch of Elrond's house, where Eloëssa still was talking with her many friends. "Sister, your good-byes will be of little use unless we actually leave. Come, we must be off!"
He motioned to Eömeril to bring the mare forward, so Eloëssa was left with little choice but to mount and at last leave Imladris. Celemedril held the reins of the brothers' horses and waited impatiently for his sister.
Eloessa shared the fair hair and coloring of most Elves of Lorien, though her hair was more golden than many. The early summer sunshine illuminated her golden fall of hair so it was almost too fair to look upon, or so it seemed to one particular watcher.
Unshed tears in her eyes, Eloessa looked at Arwen, her childhood confidant. Arwen embraced the heartbroken Lorien Elf. "Do not despair, my friend. Elrohir is a complex man. He feels things deeply and does not show it easily." Arwen said encouragingly.
"You are different." Arwen said. "You know what you want, and how you feel. Then you act on it. You are beautifully open to life and all that may come your way. I think Elrohir envies you that, but admires you, too."
Arwen looked over at her brother who was standing apart from those gathered to say farewell. She whispered in Eloessa's ear, sounding more like a little sister than a dignified Elf lady of over two thousand years, "I will work on him for you. Give him a push in the right direction." Eloessa looked horrified at this, but her friend winked and said "Trust me."
Eloessa shook her head and whispered "Look after him for me."
She turned and walked over to her host. "Farewell, Master Elrond." She bowed to him slightly. "I will take your messages and give them personally to the Lady Galadriel."
Elrond looked kindly at his departing guest, aware of the complex emotions swirling about him. "Come to see us again soon, my dear. Safe journey and may a star shine upon you always."
Eloessa then quickly walked down the steps to the courtyard. She was surprised to see that Elrohir rather than her brother now stood beside her mare, waiting to help her mount. She met his gaze but his expression was closed. She needed little assistance into the saddle but she allowed him to set his strong hands about her waist and lift her upon her horse.
Did she imagine it or did his hands linger longer than absolutely necessary? But still he did not speak, so she must be mistaken. It did not change what she was about to do.
She looked steadily down into the eyes of Elrohir and knew she would never love another. "Farewell, Elrohir, son of Elrond. Though you want it not and have so far valued it little, I leave my heart here in Imladris, in your keeping. Unless you can return it in full measure and in kind, I care not to have it back."
As she said these words, she held out her hand. Elrohir reached up to grasp it and she pressed the small leather pouch she held into his palm. His fist closed around it automatically and he looked as if he would speak.
Eloessa gave him no chance. She wheeled the gray mare and fled up the valley path guarded by beeches, the white watchers. Celemedril and Eömeril, now mounted, saluted Elrond from their horses and galloped up the track after their sister. The sun dimmed behind a cloud. Elrond gazed at his son a moment, sighed, then turned and went inside with Arwen. Elrohir, his fist still clenched around Eloessa's token, stood in the courtyard watching long after the riders disappeared from sight, his heart deeply troubled.
