Erestor stared apprehensively down at his plate at supper that evening, occasionally shifting his gaze up to glimpse the Lady Gwelwen seated directly across from him, between her father and Lady Arwen. The air would have been tense enough even lacking the knowledge weighing upon his mind that he had yet to make amends with the Haredhil maiden after their earlier debate, let alone somehow manage to politely enquire of her purpose for being in Imladris.
He clasped his hands together in his lap, unable to allow them their habitual nervous movements in present company. The others were not helping matters any. Despite Glorfindel and Erestor having been placed between the two Haredhil lords and the residents of Rivendell, and meant to act as buffers to nervousness, conversation remained unusually quiet, and its topics reserved. There were none who did not seem eager for the meal to be done with, so that they could retire to the lesser-used rooms of the house to rid themselves of the South-elves presence, and then gossip about it all the same.
As Arwen and Gwelwen attempted a trivial conversation about certain needlepoint stitches exclusive to certain realms, Erestor's eyes wandered to glance at Lord Elrond - specifically, at the Half-elf's right hand. There were a very select few who knew of the unseen trinket that adorned the Master of Lore's middle finger, and fewer still who knew of his deep reluctance to make use of the power it granted him. With it, he could have easily read both the hearts and minds of the Khandian visitors, and discovered each and every one of their true intentions, whether those intentions had anything to do with Imladris or not.
For the first time, Erestor found himself selfishly wishing that the Peredhel would utilise the power of Vilya for things that did not absolutely require its use, despite the dangers of it being discovered in Lord Elrond's possession.
Tolerate her further, says he, the advisor inwardly groused. He knows not what he asks of me.
Erestor took a long drink of his wine with hope that the conflicting feelings within him would quiet if he became too lightheaded to give them proper acknowledgement. He could not deny an attraction to the Haredhel maid, but neither could he bring himself to admit it, and in the end his overly analytical mind simply wound itself in circles. Indeed he was not sure whether he felt relieved or even more anxious when Lord Elrond stood and deemed the meal over, and for all to retire at their leisure.
He rose from his seat as the Elves of both Rivendell and Caras Hargil began to drift out of the hall, deciding that deliberation would be of no further use to him and that swift action need be taken. He would dwell on the matter no longer, but attend to his responsibilities immediately and in the shortest possible amount of time.
"My Lady Gwelwen," he opined, catching up to her and her kinsmen in two strides as they left the dining hall. All three Haredhil turned at his voice, and he endeavoured to pay little mind to the lords' suspicious gazes.
"Yes, Lord Erestor?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him coolly.
"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me on a brief walk? The falls are beautiful by twilight," he added.
Gwelwen narrowed her eyes at him for a short moment, then turned to look questioningly at her father, who glanced austerely between Erestor and his daughter.
"...you may see the falls come morrow, with Anorast and myself. If you wish to walk, then Lord Erestor may escort you to your chambers."
Gwelwen nodded obligingly. "Very well, adar-nîn," she conceded, then faced Erestor once more. "Shall we, my Lord?"
Erestor nodded once and, after a small bow to her father, offered her his hand. They made their way toward her rooms in relative quiet, as Erestor collected his words - words which he did not get the chance to put to good use, as the moment he and Gwelwen were out of the sights of her father and Anorast, she pulled him aside into a shadowed corner and bade him to keep silent.
"My Lady...?" he whispered in confusion, and she pressed a cool finger to his lips as Elladan and Elrohir passed them by.
"Where nearest can we leave this house?" she asked, voice hushed, once the coast was clear.
"Leave? But your father instructed--"
"I know very well what my father instructed, but your invitation did precede that instruction, and I will not neglect my previous commitments. Time permits, and I wish to see the falls."
Taken aback, Erestor frowned, and shook his head. "I would not risk your father finding you missing from your chambers. The ties between our peoples are too precarious for this folly."
"He will be none the wiser of my whereabouts," she argued. "And even if he became so, I can make my own excuses for my absence."
Erestor still appeared wary, and with an impatient sigh Gwelwen tilted her head and regarded him seriously.
"Whether or not you accompany me, I will see the falls tonight," she promised. "If you would consent to compromising my safety, as I do not know the way nor any of the dangers that I must watch for, then I will go alone. But if you would guide me and protect me from my own ignorance as you have already expressed interest in doing, I would be most appreciative."
"Your tongue serves you quickly and sharply, my Lady," he admitted, hesitation in his voice, "but I will do naught more than escort you to your chambers this eve."
She looked about to speak again, and he interrupted her before a single sound could escape her mouth.
"I will do naught more than escort you to your chambers," he repeated, "but only if you would consent to taking the long way round. There is a route that would allow us to pass by the falls."
She smiled widely, and Erestor felt a tight knot form in his stomach at how delighted he was to have pleased her.
This is madness! his conscience shouted at him as he took her hand once more and began to usher her to a little-used door that would lead them nearer to the surrounding wood than it would the garden. She is a savage, a witch who has veiled your better judgement through some dark spellcraft. If her father discovers you, there is no telling what he may do. You would betray his wishes, betray all hope of peace between Caras Hargil and Imladris for one maiden's whimsy to view a waterfall?!
And yet, the other half of his mind seemed intent on rationalising his actions.
If magic she has used to deceive you, Lord Elrond would sense it, and it would be she who brings ruin to Imladris' negotiations with the Haredhil. You are under no obligation to obey an Elf who is still classed as your enemy, and if her father does see or hear of this noncompliance, simply do as she would: lie.
Lie? Erestor had not lied in...he could not recall, so very long ago it had been.
And it was neither half of Erestor's mind but rather Erestor the spectator, seperate from both halves, who next spoke mentally as he and Gwelwen ran like impish children past the Last Homely House and through the trees lining the path that would lead them to the falls: Eru forgive me, I have gone mad...
No good can come of this, his conscience continued to warn him. What can you possibly expect to gain from this ridiculous behaviour in future? She is Haredhil!
And again, his less scrupulous half argued, Even a life that would span all the Ages of Arda is meaningless if not lived day by day - nay, moment by moment, for it is in the smallest of moments that the truest of joys are found.
The whole of Erestor's mind was thrown off by the declaration. In all his long years, he had never thought his soul to be of the romantic sort, and had thought his time for love had long since passed him by. He was not sorry for it - he had his books, his duties, good food and drink, and never lacked for companionship when he had need of it. He was fulfilled, and had no reason to desire love. Love in itself seemed to more often than not lack reason entirely, which was a characteristic that did not agree with his personality at all.
Love? his conscience scoffed, sounding vaguely concerned. We said nothing of love.
A small flare of panic surged through him, and he quickly cleared the notion from his mind, focusing instead on his surroundings. They were nearly to the falls now, moving nimbly up a large, smooth rock that jutted from the ground like a great bear's tooth, stopping only when they stood atop its highest point.
"Oh..." Gwelwen breathed, taking in the sight before her with wide, enraptured eyes. The falls seemingly fell into starlight, cradled only by the steeply sloping sides of the ravine. Leaning forward, she could see them empty into the flowing bed of the Bruinen, the waters silvered by the light of the moon. "Such beauty as this cannot be bound by words..."
For many moments they stood in silence, and Erestor felt her hand become warmed in his grasp. Reluctant to shatter the peace that drifted around them as they gazed upon the resplendent majesty of nature's evenfall, he curled his fingers more tightly around hers, hoping to draw her gradually from her reverie.
It worked: she tilted her head, peering at him with the light of the stars in her eyes.
"Why are you here?" he asked simply, softly so as not to have her believe he thought her unwelcome.
Gwelwen appeared slightly startled by the question. "I am here because my people seek peace," she replied as if it were obvious, and Erestor shook his head.
"Why are you here?" he said again. "Pardon my candour, but you appear to play no part in the negotiations between Imladris and Caras Hargil, and I cannot help but wonder why your father feels your presence here is a necessary one."
"Ah, yes..." She pulled away from him, taking a couple of steps closer toward the edge of the rock. "I accompany my father on all of his travels."
She did not offer any further explanation, and Erestor prompted her to elaborate.
"Because he wishes it," she said. "He prefers me to remain where he can see me at his will."
The counsellor's brow creased in a frown, and he held tightly the reins of his impulse to close the distance that had grown between them. "It displeases you."
"It does and it does not," Gwelwen shrugged. "I have seen much of Khand and Harad, and even ventured once into the east, though not a long way, I will admit. I am grateful his will to keep me near is so strong, for if his protectiveness tended toward the opposite it is doubtful that I would ever be permitted outside the walls of Caras Hargil. Thus I never openly dispute his wishes, and because of that his trust in me does not waver. I can do as is my own will much more freely this way."
"Why does he guard you so closely?"
She did not reply, but turned suddenly and stepped nearer to him once more, her mouth curved into a teasing smile that did not fit with the distant tone in which she had been speaking. "You ask many personal questions, Lord Erestor, though as I was rude enough this early morn to question your faith in all that is held sacred, it only serves rightly that you would question me now. Your inquisitiveness has unveiled my falsities: there is a serpent hidden 'neath this flower, and I am in truth not my father's daughter, but an enchantress schooled by Variag witches in the art of deception, employed by Lord Lithir to beguile and persuade the House of Elrond into siding with the Haredhil."
She raised a hand to touch his face; Erestor caught it in his, and lowered it slowly.
"Mock me not, Lady Gwelwen," he softly compelled, "for with your lies do your charms lessen."
And she whispered in return, "But against my lies do your gentle truths seem even lovelier. Why do you not feel wariness at my words, when in my company many of your kind would believe them without protest?"
"Wariness I do feel, my Lady, and especially in your company, as I find that my trust and distrust of you both stem seemingly from the same source."
She frowned at him, and shook her head. "I do not understand."
"Nor do I," he sighed. "I fear too much wine has loosed my tongue this night. Come; we have dallied here long enough. Your chambers await you."
Pale eyes briefly narrowed at him bemusedly, but she did not attempt to protest. "As you wish, my Lord."
They made their way back to the house much more slowly than they had come from it, though they still walked amongst the trees to avoid being sighted by any who may have been watching the path from afar. On silent feet they sneaked back inside, and Erestor delivered her to the door of her rooms without incident. He bade her good-night with no cumbersome pleasantries, and she was not satisfied with the reappearance of his more aloof self.
"Lord Erestor," she called as he swept down the hall, knowing that his reborn adherence to formalities would demand he give pause to heed whatever complaints awaited to free themselves from her lips.
Indeed he did pause, and turned to regard her enquiringly, but it was not complaint that left her mouth.
"I would thank you for indulging my whims this eve," she murmured sincerely. "It was very kind of you."
"And you are very welcome, my Lady," he replied; "though I do admit it was attributed more to foolishness than to kindness."
The maiden looked mildly offended. "Foolishness? Think you my company foolish?"
"Is it not?" he said shortly. "To betray the trust of one's elders can rarely be called anything else."
She glared at him then, hurt unintentionally present in her face alongside anger. "Better a free bird with a foolish song, than a caged bird with no song at all, and may I remind you that I was not the only one who knew that tune this night," she pointed out, then sighed with exasperation. "Must we forever part on adverse terms? It grows tiresome and senseless."
He was quiet for a moment, and then moved to approach her. "It does at that. I apologise for my rudeness; it is with my own actions that I am cross. Mostly."
A smile graced her features at his tone, which could almost be judged playful.
"May we begin peace with our friendship, then," said Gwelwen, "and pray that others may follow our lead."
Erestor's mouth curved into the slightest of smiles. "And so it is with hope and not malice that I now leave you, and for a second time bid you good-night." He bowed low with more flourish than was necessary and took hold of one of her hands, and then raised it to press his lips lightly against the backs of her fingers. The softness of her skin sent a queer chill of exhileration to dance along his spine and into his chest, and he started once again down the hall before she could notice the flush that coloured his cheeks. As he neared the corner, he heard her voice whisper a wish to him of pleasant dreams.
"Sauron stirs," said Anorast the next day, his voice wryly casual. "With each day that withers in its passing does he regain an ounce more of strength, a thread more of the being he once was. For over three centuries has this been so, and despite your distance from Mordor which we, unfortunately, cannot yet share, certainly you, too, have felt it."
"I have," Lord Elrond nodded, a shadow passing over his eyes.
"He will rise again before this Age is past," Anorast continued, "of that we have no doubt, and of that we have no want to partake of again, I least of all." He exchanged a glance with Lord Lithir, and lowered his eyes. The gesture was one acknowledging some dark, hidden shame, but Erestor was uncertain - it conveyed too much guilt too openly in the presence of strangers, and it bluntly invited inquiry, even sought it. That was not shame: it was pride. False modesty, perhaps? Or possibly some difficult obstacle overcome?
Lithir appeared not to notice. "As Sauron's power grows, so does the confidence of those who would follow him. Their forces are ever bolder each time we meet them, and there are no corners of Caras Hargil that remain unscathed: Orcs from the West; Haradrim from the South; Easterlings from the East; Variags from the North. For a short time we did manage to live in relative tranquility, being neither attacked nor attacking, but with the return of the Nine we did quickly realise that that time had ended. They know well of our...'treachery'...against the Dark Lord, and spread word throughout the Southern lands that we are the enemy. Gondor's forces at Morannon yet hold them at bay from the land of their master, but their influence still carries much sway."
They are trapped, Erestor mulled silently. A wild beast, caged, and so they howl pleas of peace, that they would deny their nature in order to obtain the freedom to express it.
His fingertips drummed nigh silently on the table as he thought, as he frowned. Words of the previous day returned to him: "Better a free bird with a foolish song, than a caged bird with no song at all."
But this was no song; it was battle these Haredhil spoke of, battle and protection, the risking of Rivendell lives to free a mistrusted people who had not yet proven their worth. It was a cold thought, but a true one. A memory of a time long past crept into his mind on deft spiders' legs, one wrought with shadow and spilt blood. A mere glimpse of a painted face and wild hair caught up in a foetid wind, hair that swept back to reveal the tip of one pointed ear before its owner had been run through by a spear...
The thought was pushed away as another drifted into his head, and echoed softly about his skull: "I do not think you savage, my Lady."
That, too, had been true.
"Should we attempt," Lithir continued, "to leave Khand without aid, our numbers...our people...will be diminished beyond any hope of recovery." He lowered his gaze as his eyes became glazed and distant with remembrance. "Even those who survived would be strangled by grief, and I--"
"Excuse me, Lord Lithir," Elrond cut him off, a hard scowl marring his brow as he glanced first out the west-facing window, then between Glorfindel and Erestor, who both looked upon him with concern, for an interruption from the Lord of Imladris was a most rare discourtesy. "I apologise, but one of your kinsmen does quickly approach this house from the Southern slopes."
He looked briefly to his left, focusing his eyes on some random point as he focused his mind on a specific one. "He is afraid."
adar-nîn - "my father"
A/N: Not a huge cliffhanger, but the chapter had to end somewhere and it was being difficult. The "love" Erestor argues amongst himselves (new word) is meant in the Renaissance sense of the word - infatuation. Just in case anyone might be thinking things are progressing along too quickly on that front...
To my kind reviewers...
Píp: Thanks. :) Anorast will...actually, I forsee much fun being had with him - writing-wise, at least.
morchaint: Oh, one mustn't need to lust after Erestor to be an Erestwhore (I don't, either). It merely implies an adoration of the character and most things related to him. As for the Kinslaying...it's the "brink" part of the summary that keeps my ambition in check. So far.
Nemis: Erestor is...confusing himself, and has trouble dealing. ;) I really hope you do keep enjoying this!
Arabella Thorne: Thank you much! The wild-elf concept was mainly just me wanting to give Elves cornrows... *grins*
As always, thanks for reading, all.