CHAPTER FIVE "Year 2617", 349 years before the birth of the RingBearer. --- Fall (October)
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Elrond had recently received anther letter from Celeborn. Galadriel was no longer ill, but they had problems with Goblins raiding parties. He would not be able to make it to Rivendell until the next Spring. Elrond sat in his study, brooding silently. If the Seventh Seer Stone was indeed found…what could he do? Should he send someone to locate it? Now may not be the right time for action. He would have to consider his choices wisely.
As the months slid by, he felt the presence of someone watching less and less. Once or twice, he'd look over his shoulder, or the hairs on the back of his neck would tingle. But always…only a fleeting moment. He had reports from Firespring that Torialas was normal once again and that the baby was never left alone since it was moved from its cradle. Though as each day passed he saw his friend suffer. Lomendil was torn…and like a plant that had grown too many flowers over the years and was ridden with disease from neglect…he was withering.
The look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching him was terrible to see. To love someone…like Torialas…Elrond could not even begin to understand what his friend was going through, though he had seen it for thousands of years. Eternal hell, and the bounds of the Elvin soul…kept them forever. A cruel fate for one who had once had so much light within him.
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Morning…the sun was shining…but it was a little cold…Torialas was calmly painting. She had not suffered an attack for about three months now and peace seemed to reign in House Firespring for now. She was painting green hills and horses, drawn from her own imagination, and within the watercolor the sun was setting. Sitting nearby, an elleth was stitching, standing guard over both the Lady of Firespring and her child. It would almost have been a picturesque setting with the baby gurgling and playing with the star mobile above her bed.
Lomendil entered the chamber softly, he looked down at the baby and smiled her warmly, though she reached her arms out to him, he first moved over to his wife. Upon the entrance of the elvin lord, the elleth guardian left the chamber. Lomendil laid a hand on his wife's soft shoulder gazing at her intently. She did not look at him, and continued to paint and he watched…the look in his eyes told everything that ached in his soul.
"(1) Melamin." his hand threaded through her hair gently, but did not linger. The words were heartfelt, an emotion that came to him every hour of every day. Still, she did not respond, and continued to paint, humming the tune to a little song in her head. It was often like this. When she was lost in her artwork, she was normally tranquil, but unresponsive. His murky green eyes closed for a moment, enduring…and he lent down and kissed the top of her head. The Lord turned with a heavy heart towards his child who cooed in the cradle and he gathered her into his arms, small and willing to be held.
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…Adar…the baby played with Lomendil's braids, gurgling happily. She squirmed in his arms though…as though straining to get a look at something…nearby…
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From a window, the dark haired boy watched, pain visible in his eyes. Mist surged around him, clouding the perfect vision of the Elvin lord and his child. His small hands clutched the sill as he watched with haunted eyes and something burned at his neck. He reached up, but felt nothing. The baby turned to see him, but though her father looked his way, he knew…he was not seen. She watched him with her blue eyes…staring into the depths of his soul. He felt…drawn…somehow…he wished he could go inside. The Elvin Lord seemed so … loving and natural. Kind…but she frightened him. The woman who painted. She seemed an ethereal presence that was not really supposed to be there….she was never near the baby, or holding her or even looking at her…they never left her alone now, he should not have picked her up perhaps. But wasn't this only a dream? Of course it had to be…he knew they were elves…but not where they were…or who they were. He felt tears coming…unbidden again…as he remembered being held once by his father like the small child was. He wished he knew her name.
*Gailethil*
He started.
The sound came from the back of his mind…had she spoken to him…he stared at the baby. No…she was only a baby…she could not speak. "Gail." he let the name roll over his tongue and it seemed like his own words did not come from where he was…but from somewhere far away.
The Elvin Lord sung the baby back to sleep and rested her in the crib. He went once more to the woman who painted, an expression of great sorrow in his eyes as he kissed the top of her head. Still, she did not respond, and continued to paint. The beauty of the elleth was only a shell…a great façade that captured a soul that longed to be free.
Lomendil was gone, and the guardian had returned, she was once again stitching silently. The darkhaired boy still watched from the window, lost in his own dream. He knew he should go…but he did not want to. He never felt more … alive … when he was here… wherever here was…but he had lingered too long…and as the baby drifted off to sleep…the voices began to come again.
His hand went to his head as his eyes searched for a perpetrator…some meaning…someone or something nearby he could reach out and touch…begging them to stop…he sank down to the ground…tears streaming down his eyes…why did the dreams always end this way?…he clawed at the darkness that seemed to be swallowing him up and awoke…far away…so very very very far away…and the voices were gone.
He could never remember the voices…or what they were saying. He always tried hard to remember and .this time a fleeting image flashed in his mind… a cradle…eyes as blue as a bright winter's day…the gurgling laughter of a baby…what did it mean? He opened his own eyes very briefly looking for them…but when he didn't find them…he shut out the light once again…tears flowing once again…who was she? Where was she? He needed her…
He realized vaguely that he had been sweating for the pillow and sheet was damp. Someone was moving him…He murmured and whimpered in pain…for his neck burned. But when the gentle hands took care of damp sheets and things were soon soft once more…he fell back into a deep quiet slumber.
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(1) My love.
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Elrond had recently received anther letter from Celeborn. Galadriel was no longer ill, but they had problems with Goblins raiding parties. He would not be able to make it to Rivendell until the next Spring. Elrond sat in his study, brooding silently. If the Seventh Seer Stone was indeed found…what could he do? Should he send someone to locate it? Now may not be the right time for action. He would have to consider his choices wisely.
As the months slid by, he felt the presence of someone watching less and less. Once or twice, he'd look over his shoulder, or the hairs on the back of his neck would tingle. But always…only a fleeting moment. He had reports from Firespring that Torialas was normal once again and that the baby was never left alone since it was moved from its cradle. Though as each day passed he saw his friend suffer. Lomendil was torn…and like a plant that had grown too many flowers over the years and was ridden with disease from neglect…he was withering.
The look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching him was terrible to see. To love someone…like Torialas…Elrond could not even begin to understand what his friend was going through, though he had seen it for thousands of years. Eternal hell, and the bounds of the Elvin soul…kept them forever. A cruel fate for one who had once had so much light within him.
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Morning…the sun was shining…but it was a little cold…Torialas was calmly painting. She had not suffered an attack for about three months now and peace seemed to reign in House Firespring for now. She was painting green hills and horses, drawn from her own imagination, and within the watercolor the sun was setting. Sitting nearby, an elleth was stitching, standing guard over both the Lady of Firespring and her child. It would almost have been a picturesque setting with the baby gurgling and playing with the star mobile above her bed.
Lomendil entered the chamber softly, he looked down at the baby and smiled her warmly, though she reached her arms out to him, he first moved over to his wife. Upon the entrance of the elvin lord, the elleth guardian left the chamber. Lomendil laid a hand on his wife's soft shoulder gazing at her intently. She did not look at him, and continued to paint and he watched…the look in his eyes told everything that ached in his soul.
"(1) Melamin." his hand threaded through her hair gently, but did not linger. The words were heartfelt, an emotion that came to him every hour of every day. Still, she did not respond, and continued to paint, humming the tune to a little song in her head. It was often like this. When she was lost in her artwork, she was normally tranquil, but unresponsive. His murky green eyes closed for a moment, enduring…and he lent down and kissed the top of her head. The Lord turned with a heavy heart towards his child who cooed in the cradle and he gathered her into his arms, small and willing to be held.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
…Adar…the baby played with Lomendil's braids, gurgling happily. She squirmed in his arms though…as though straining to get a look at something…nearby…
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From a window, the dark haired boy watched, pain visible in his eyes. Mist surged around him, clouding the perfect vision of the Elvin lord and his child. His small hands clutched the sill as he watched with haunted eyes and something burned at his neck. He reached up, but felt nothing. The baby turned to see him, but though her father looked his way, he knew…he was not seen. She watched him with her blue eyes…staring into the depths of his soul. He felt…drawn…somehow…he wished he could go inside. The Elvin Lord seemed so … loving and natural. Kind…but she frightened him. The woman who painted. She seemed an ethereal presence that was not really supposed to be there….she was never near the baby, or holding her or even looking at her…they never left her alone now, he should not have picked her up perhaps. But wasn't this only a dream? Of course it had to be…he knew they were elves…but not where they were…or who they were. He felt tears coming…unbidden again…as he remembered being held once by his father like the small child was. He wished he knew her name.
*Gailethil*
He started.
The sound came from the back of his mind…had she spoken to him…he stared at the baby. No…she was only a baby…she could not speak. "Gail." he let the name roll over his tongue and it seemed like his own words did not come from where he was…but from somewhere far away.
The Elvin Lord sung the baby back to sleep and rested her in the crib. He went once more to the woman who painted, an expression of great sorrow in his eyes as he kissed the top of her head. Still, she did not respond, and continued to paint. The beauty of the elleth was only a shell…a great façade that captured a soul that longed to be free.
Lomendil was gone, and the guardian had returned, she was once again stitching silently. The darkhaired boy still watched from the window, lost in his own dream. He knew he should go…but he did not want to. He never felt more … alive … when he was here… wherever here was…but he had lingered too long…and as the baby drifted off to sleep…the voices began to come again.
His hand went to his head as his eyes searched for a perpetrator…some meaning…someone or something nearby he could reach out and touch…begging them to stop…he sank down to the ground…tears streaming down his eyes…why did the dreams always end this way?…he clawed at the darkness that seemed to be swallowing him up and awoke…far away…so very very very far away…and the voices were gone.
He could never remember the voices…or what they were saying. He always tried hard to remember and .this time a fleeting image flashed in his mind… a cradle…eyes as blue as a bright winter's day…the gurgling laughter of a baby…what did it mean? He opened his own eyes very briefly looking for them…but when he didn't find them…he shut out the light once again…tears flowing once again…who was she? Where was she? He needed her…
He realized vaguely that he had been sweating for the pillow and sheet was damp. Someone was moving him…He murmured and whimpered in pain…for his neck burned. But when the gentle hands took care of damp sheets and things were soon soft once more…he fell back into a deep quiet slumber.
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(1) My love.