Chapter Five
Women of the Fair-Folk
"I have a proposition for you," Celebrían stated at breakfast the next morning. Aldaya paused with a piece of toast half-way to her mouth, put it down, and began buttering it all over again.
"What's that?" she asked, now satisfied with the amount of butter and taking a bite.
"Have you ever heard of an elf-woman by the name of Ellórmë?"
Aldaya choked, swallowed hastily and dropped her toast back to her plate. "Heard of her?" she gasped. "Who hasn't? The elf-woman who befriended the dwarves, who stormed Dol Guldur to rescue her father, who—"
Celebrían chuckled. "Well, she and I set up a defense program for those of us elf-women who would rather be working than fussing over the latest hairstyles and talking to our husbands. Would you like to join?"
"Well—yes! Of course—but wait, what about Tindómë?"
"Well, Elrohir and Elrond have nothing planned for today. Why don't you ask them to take the child?"
Aldaya grinned widely, looking suddenly very mischievous. "Celebrían, I admire your intellect."
"Why, thank you, darling."
They laughed and clicked glasses. "To all elven folk!" Aldaya said. "May your ears stay ever pointy!"
Celebrían laughed. "To all elf-women," she corrected. "May your dresses never hinder your sword thrust."
It was some time before Aldaya could stop laughing and take a sip of her drink.
* * * *
"Step right, thrust, Aldaya—if I get hit, I deserve it. Don't poke me, hit me dwarf-dammit!"
Ellórmë was soothing, being the first elf-woman Aldaya had ever heard swear, or act like a human. "Times with dwarves and humans will do that to you," Ellórmë had explained when asked.
So Aldaya struck, missed wildly and fell face down. She came up with a mouthful of leaves and grass.
"Any sword training in the past?" Ellórmë asked innocently.
"Very funny," Aldaya muttered. "I bet I could whip your elven butt at archery."
Ellórmë grinned widely and mercilessly. "I bet you could. However, we're not learning archery, are we?"
"Har, har," Aldaya answered dryly.
Despite Aldaya's grumbling, Ellórmë was a good teacher, and quickly Aldaya settled into her new routine of working out with the other elven-women, of which there were about ten or fifteen, and practicing at home.
Elrohir began noticing that Aldaya, rather than just naturally slender, was beginning to look more muscular, and was much stronger. Celebrían noticed the difference, too, and secretly she hoped Aldaya's fitness would prevent any fights between her and some of the younger, more volatile elves.
After morning practice, Aldaya trotted down the grassy bank to Ëarel's boat, and ran across the dock. "Any news about my father?" she asked, but the words died on her lips as Ëarel turned. There was sympathy, and kindness in those stormy gray eyes. Aldaya stopped suddenly. "What's happened?" she asked softly.
"Your father's boat was caught off the coast of the Gray Havens in a very powerful storm…the ship was wrecked. Only one elf survived."
"And my father?"
Ëarel paused, and that was all that Aldaya needed. She stood very still for a long while, looking out over Ëarel's shoulder to the sea.
"I'm so sorry," Ëarel said, just as Aldaya broke down, falling to her knees and sobbing hysterically. Ëarel tried to put a hand on her shoulder, to calm her, but Aldaya would have none of it.
"No! No! No!" she cried shrilly. "You're lying—you bastard!" She roughly shoved Ëarel away and fled blindly back up the dock. She stumbled often, unable to see through her tears.
Somehow she made it back to the house Elrohir had built for her and Tindómë. She could hear Tindómë laughing inside as Elrohir told him a story to pass the time. Aldaya shut her eyes against the sound and ran on, down the twisting path seldom used anymore. Across the grassy meadow and into the cool forest she raced, her long hair pulled back by the breeze, her tears dried by the cold air.
Aldaya stumbled to a stop somewhere in the middle of Eressëa, and sat down, crying hard.
Had she not been so distraught, she would have heard movement behind her, sensed the presence moving towards her. But she did not notice, and so when a hand was laid on her shoulder she yelped, sending herself into hiccups as she swung around. Elrond stood before her, a sad expression on his handsome face. "Aldaya?" he said, several questions put into one word.
Aldaya considered running away. She considered taking her family and sailing back to Middle-Earth—if that was even possible. She even considered sailing out with Ëarel, hoping to find her father.
Ëarel. She sunk to her knees again, remembering her words to her friend. She began crying again, helplessly but not hysterically. Elrond set down the basket of herbs he'd been collecting and knelt by her, putting his hand on hers. He didn't need to ask what the matter was—he had already spoken with Ëarel. Aldaya leaned against Elrond's shoulder, still crying, and he drew her into a hug, and he wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose, her eyes red and swollen. Elrond stroked her hair, letting her cry. He knew there were no words to say that would comfort her—after all, he had lost his parents at a young age, and not long after had lost his brother to mortality. He had lost his only daughter, had even lost Celebrían for a little while. He knew how Aldaya felt.
After a little while, Aldaya drew back, still clenching the handkerchief like it was a handhold to life itself.
Perhaps it is, Elrond thought sadly, watching Aldaya rock back and forth, whimpering quietly, her eyes completely glazed over.
"Poor child," he said quietly when she was quiet again, wearily leaning against his strong shoulder. "Poor child," he repeated. "Let's get you home."
Aldaya didn't resist as Elrond gently helped her up, scooped up his bucket of herbs and steered her back towards his and Celebrían's house.
* * * *
"Mother!" Elladan cried, flinging himself into the room with such single-minded abandon that he tripped on a stool and went flying.
Used to such antics by her son, Celebrían was not surprised when Elladan—almost literally—bounced to his feet and spun around. "Mother!" he cried again.
"Yes, dear?" Celebrían answered calmly.
"You'll never guess what has happened!
Oh, dear Elbereth, no. He's in love.
"I'm in love," Elladan declared.
Oh shit. "And how does the woman you love feel?" Celebrían asked warily.
"She hates me," Elladan replied happily.
Oh, no, please no. Not the house of Finarfin, not the house of Finarfin…
"She's of the house of Finarfin."
This has been a bad day from the start, and it's getting worse. First Aldaya, now this. . .
"And she's the beautiful creature I've ever seen. I'm going to ask her to marry me."
Help me, Elbereth…
"She hates you? Why?"
"Apparently she doesn't appreciate soul-bonding," Elladan answered.
"Elladan—is that a black eye?"
"Actually, yes, it is."
"How in the world did you get it?"
"She decked me."
"What?!"
"She creamed me."
Celebrían drew back suspiciously. "What did you do?" she demanded.
"I serenaded outside her widow," Elladan replied, a bit touchy. "Out of range of her chamber pot, of course."
"And she came down and just hit you?"
"Well, she ordered me out of there, and I asked her to marry me, so she punched me."
Why? Why couldn't both of them have been born sensible? Why, I ask you, why?!