DISCLAIMER: Only cute little Tindómë, Ëarel, the 500 year old thugs, and Aldaya are mine. :-)

Three years later…

Chapter Four

Tindómë

Aldaya laughed and clapped her hands as she watched Tindómë dance with Celebrían, learning one of the traditional dances of the elves. He sang, too, as he danced, his clear and melodic tones ringing out. He was still able to sing soprano—and though Aldaya knew that would one day change, she was happy just to listen to his joyful calls and giggles.

Ëarel was right, she thought. Tindómë is such a happy child!

Tindómë laughed again, spinning gaily, dodging and ducking with Celebrían, who seemed equally delighted.

"Tindómë!" she called. "Time for dinner!"

Tindómë stopped and made a face. "But mother!" he protested. "I'm not in the least bit hungry!" His stomach rumbled loudly in response, and both Celebrían and Aldaya laughed. "Come, my grandchild," said Celebrían lightly. "It is time for lunch! We can come back later."

Tindómë sighed, but took his mother's hand, pulling her into a fast trot to keep up with him. So much energy, Aldaya thought with a grin.

"Lady Aldaya!" Aldaya stopped suddenly, and though Tindómë protested she turned to see about half a dozen younger elves walk up to her, certain cockiness in their faces and stride. "Lady Aldaya," said the leader, an elf with the rare golden hair of the Vanyar elves, tall and overly-proud, "we ask you to join us in the Dance of Swirling Stars."

Aldaya stiffened slightly. The Dance of Swirling Stars, as it was called, was a complicated dance most elves didn't learn until they came into maturity somewhere around fifty years of age. But Aldaya had not had the time yet to learn it. Now she wished she had.

"I am afraid I cannot," Aldaya answered, grasping at straws. "My son needs to eat," she explained, trying to look sincere. Celebrían came up behind her, a silent, firm presence.

"Another time, perhaps," the young elf said, but Aldaya did not like the maliciousness in his eyes, nor the coldness of his tone.

"Perhaps," she agreed, and then she and Celebrían left, tugging a happily oblivious Tindómë along behind her.

"They know," Aldaya said grimly to Celebrían as Tindómë was eating his lunch. "They know I'm human, or were human."

"You can't be sure of that," Celebrían pointed out, sipping at a glass of wine.

"I can be sure," Aldaya answered, looking out over the rolling landscape of Eressea, and a little further in the distance, the island of Valinor. "Such a beautiful place," she said with a sigh, "such unrest."

Celebrían put a hand on her shoulder. Aldaya stared at the slowly setting sun, Tindome's happy squeals as Elrohir tickled him echoed in her mind. "Why aren't I happy?" she asked the older elf-woman. "I've lived hear for four years, and yet I still don't think of it as home."

"Part of it is your father hasn't been able to make it here yet," Celebrían said gently. "Part of it is you're still in love with Middle-Earth. Part of it is you miss your old life. Part of it is you hate yourself for missing your old life. Part of it is you still consider yourself human."

Aldaya turned around and looked into Celebrían's silver eyes and smiled slightly. "And yet I have a family here," she said quietly. "You've all been so kind to me. Through all my blundering mistakes, my misconceptions and mythologies, through my initial distrust of what we humans call magic, you've all been so patient and understanding."

Celebrían returned the smile. "You're family," she explained, "family and friends—that's what we're here for. And no matter what a bunch of five hundred year old thugs say, we'll always be here for you."

Aldaya smiled through the sudden moisture rimming her eyes. "Thank you," Aldaya said. "I needed to hear that, girl to girl."

Celebrían brushed the tear from her face. "Elves don't abandon each other," she said gently.

Tindómë burst into the room, laughing shrilly, and Aldaya's melancholy melted away as she caught her son in her arms and swung him around, listening to his peels of laughter, and laughing with him.

There was only one thing that could banish her happiness—and that was the coldness in the young elf's eyes, coldness directed at her, and at Tindómë.

I'll kill them, she decided, tickling Tindómë's feet. If they harm my baby, or Elrohir, I'll kill every one of the bastards.

*     *     *     *

Tindómë was content.

He had a loving mother and father, interesting grandparents, and even great-grandparents! A warm bed in the same room as his parents', a place to play, a forest to romp in, and his mother loved playing his favorite game of hide-and-go-seek.

But even with all that, he sensed a general sadness about his mother. Whenever he asked her about it, she just smiled and tickled him, assuring him that she was fine.

Tindómë was not convinced.

With the natural ease and grace of his kind, Tindómë sprang up and grabbed hold of a branch several feet above his head and swung himself up. Balancing fearlessly, he walked to the end of the branch, and looked down to see his father gasping in alarm.

"Tindómë! Get down from there! You could fall!"

"I'll be alright," Tindómë insisted, even though he knew his father was probably right. Elrohir stood up and beckoned with his hand. Tindómë hesitated, and then let out a playful yell as he sprang down into his father's arms. Elrohir laughed and swung him around. "It's a bird! No, a falcon! No—it can't be! An eagle—wait! No! It's—Tindómë!" Elrohir flipped his child expertly in his arms as Tindómë howled with laughter, holding his son up by the ankles and tickling his toes. Tindómë squealed and laughed, twisting as he tried to break free.

Elrohir gently lowered Tindómë to the ground, making sure the elfling had twisted safely and was mostly on the ground before he let go of Tindómë's feet.

"Father?"

Elrohir looked down at the suddenly grave little face, Tindómë's wide gray eyes staring back at him. "Yes, childling?"

"What's a girl?"

Elrohir tried hard not to laugh.

*     *     *     *

Elladan positively floated back to his father's home, spinning and sighing dramatically. Elrond knew something was wrong before Elladan had even stepped in the house. With the weird little dance Elrohir was doing it was a wonder all of Eressea hadn't come to watch him…

"Elladan?" Elrond called as his son came in the door, still doing that odd little flutter-flutter, kick-kick, spin-duck, flutter-flutter, kick-kick, spin-duck dance.

"Oh, father dearest!" Elladan cried with excitement. Elrond was taken back. Elladan had never in quite literally over three thousand years called him that. "The most wonderful thing has happened!"

Elrond closed his eyes. Oh, Elbereth, no. He's in love.

"I'm in love," Elladan said with a sigh.

Am I allowed to swear in my mind, I wonder? If so, shit. Elbereth help me…

"And how does the object of your affection feel towards you?" Elrond asked warily.

"She hates me," Elladan replied happily.

Oh, no, please no. Not the house of Finarfin, not the house of Finarfin…

"And she's of the house of Finarfin."

I just can't win today.

"And she's the beautiful creature I've ever seen. I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Help me, Elbereth…

"And she hates you? Why?"

"I'm not sure. She did throw a chamber pot at me. So I went for a swim to wash off and she dumped my clean clothes—along with the dirty ones—into the sea."

Elrond decided he didn't want to know the answer to the next question, but he had to ask. "If that is so, why are you fully clothed?"

"Well, I swam after my clothes, put them on and then dried out in the sun." Elladan threw himself dramatically on the couch and draped an arm over his eyes. "I think we're soul-bonded."

Elrond briefly closed his eyes and wondered, not for the first, and not for the last time, why his life had to be so complicated.