Imladris Revisited
By: DLR
Disclaimer: Characters owned by JRR Tolkien
Elrond/OFC
Rated: G
Chapter 2Culurien awoke with the morning sun in her eyes. Somebody had drawn back the curtains and was now poking her in the shoulder.
"Get up, my Lady;" said the maid, "you are summoned to appear before the Lord of the house."
Culurien struggled into wakefulness. She positioned herself before the bowl of cold water the maid offered her and splashed it on her face. She was relieved to realize she had slept deeply through the night with no dreams to trouble her.
There was a knock on the door and Arwen entered. "Oh, I am glad to find you awake, I did not know if you would be strong enough to venture far from your rooms today. My father has bidden you to morning council, but will excuse you if you are not up to it."
Culurien shook her head. "I will go, already I feel lighter for having spent the night in this house."
She remembered the words of Arwen, back in Lothlórien, of the spell that was cast upon Imladris, by her father, a master of healing, that all who dwell there feel pain and suffering fall away from them. She had been there but one night, and already she felt the power of the Lord of Imladris.
"Also, I need to make amends for sneaking into this house like a thief in the night, unbidden and unlooked for."
Arwen smiled at her. "Do not be troubled, I have already spoken of you to my father and no apology is needed."
Culurien looked up. "Spoken...how?" she faltered, her eyes filling with despair.
"Be not afraid," said Arwen. "He was sympathetic to your plight and will give you any help he can. You are here to be healed, not judged." Arwen had brought a tray in with her. "You have missed breakfast, but I did not think you would care to appear in the dining hall this morning."
There was a hot drink and a muffin, which Culurien nibbled at. Arwen waited while Culurien washed and dressed. They both wore soft warm gowns that clung to the outlines of their bodies and shimmered as they walked. Arwen had a spray of flowers trailing from her long black hair. She linked her arm through Culurien's as they left the room.
"Tell me of this morning council," said Culurien. "What is it like?"
Arwen thought for a moment. "Well, it is fairly formal, my father presides and the other lords of the household are there. Newcomers are presented." She squeezed Culurien's arm. "Problems are discussed, grievances are aired, Great Matters of State are decided," she giggled. "Do not worry, we only have to stay long enough for you to be presented, then we may go."
"That is not encouraging" said Culurien skeptically, "for it does indeed sound like a trial."
"Shh," said Arwen as they rounded a great carved statue. There lay before them a large open-air courtyard where many people were gathered.
Elrond, as was his custom, sat in an ornately carved oaken chair. Arwen's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, for he was not dressed in his traditional council robes, but the same raiment she had seen him in the night before - tunic and breeches, his shirt open at the throat and soft leather boots on his feet.
I wonder if he has even been to bed, she thought, although he did not look weary. On his left sat Erestor and to his right sat Glorfindel, both mighty lords of Imladris. Calen, Elrond's scribe, sat behind a wooden table, quill in hand, busily writing on parchment.
Elrond sat with his chin cupped in his hand, listening to the bickering of two elves that stood before him. It seemed they were arguing about the ownership of some sheep.
Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "You should know better, Halithir, and you Beriand, than to bring before this council matters of such triviality when you can easily work them out amongst yourselves. It should be fairly obvious who the sheep in question belong to, all you need do is ask them."
Elrond moved his hand to hide his mouth, and his twinkled. He was amused at the indignation of his oldest friend.
During this exchange, Arwen had positioned Culurien in the appropriate spot, and then had gone to stand behind her father. As the two elves (still arguing) were dismissed, she leaned forward and whispered in Elrond's ear. He looked toward Culurien and said in a pleasant voice, "approach the council, please."
Culurien took a deep breath and slowly walked forward. She knelt before Elrond and bowed her head.
"What is your name, child?" he asked, for Arwen had not told him. She looked up.
"Culurien," she whispered.
"Golden-red," he said softly, looking at her hair. "How very apt."
"It was given to me by my father when I was of a very young age," she said, gazing at him.
"He chose well," said Elrond. He tilted his head. "What is it you wish of me, Culurien?"
Her eyes glistened. "I wish to reside in Imladris and be subject to the Master of Healing, for I am much wounded in mind and soul."
Elrond leaned forward and placed his long, slender fingers on the side of her face, touching temple, cheek and chin. He spoke for several moments, words of healing in Quenya, which she did not understand. He looked into her eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. "Be at peace, child of Eru Ilúvatar.* Thy tribulations are not of thy doing and you should suffer no more shame in this matter. May all the Lords of the Valar bless you, for you are more than worthy. Be at peace," he repeated softly. "Let all of your cares fall by the wayside, for you are truly blessed."
He took her hand and brought her to her feet. "You may call Imladris your home, for you are welcome in my house until the end of days."
"Thank you," she said softly, lowering her eyes. "For this I am very grateful."
She curtsied and made her way to the side of the courtyard where Arwen joined her.
"Back to business," sighed Elrond, his eyes never leaving her as they walked away. He picked up a piece of parchment as he sat down. "Falahir, come forward and state your grievance," he said to a tall elf standing nearby. And so the morning went on.
"I thought that went rather well," Arwen said, as they walked down the hallway.
"Yes," said Culurien, "your father was much more approachable than I thought he would be."
Arwen smiled to herself, wondering if that could be the reason for Elrond's unprecedented lack of formal attire at the meeting. He could be a very intimidating figure when regally decked out. Perhaps he realized how frightening that would have been to Arwen's shy friend.
"So" Arwen said, "Did that help any? How do you feel?"
Culurien did not answer right away. "I feel more rested than I have in some time, more relaxed and able to breathe easier. Only when he spoke to me, my heart felt as though it was pounding loud enough for all to hear and the room seemed to grow hazy and misty as if we were under some kind of spell."
"And so you were," said Arwen. "My father has many strong powers and not the least among them is enchantment by words alone." She looked searchingly at her friend's face. Already she could see lines of weariness smoothed away. "This may take some time, but I think that we made the right choice in bringing you here." Arwen put her arm around Culurien's shoulder.
"Come, let me show you the gardens, they are beautiful even in midwinter and it is long since I have laid eyes upon them."
Culurien smiled as she walked.
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*The One, the Creator