By DLR 2002
Disclaimer: Characters owned by JRR Tolkien
Elrond/OFC
Rated: G
Chapter 3
Several days had passed in that blissful place before Elrond sought out Culurien in her rooms to inquire about her health. She had seen very little of him, for she took all of her meals in her chamber and did not wander about the place much. Her appetite was coming back slowly, although the food on the tray was indeed tempting, she had not the heart to do more than nibble at it. She had been very thin and haggard looking when Arwen brought her here and though the torment in her soul had eased somewhat, the thinness was still with her.
Elrond took a keen look at her and touched her forehead for a long moment. "I think perhaps it is time for a tonic of some sort. If you would accompany me to the Hall of Healing, I will prepare something for you."
Culurien acquiesced and they walked down the stairs to the ground floor room. The Hall they entered was seldom used and they were alone. Elves do not get sick, although they occasionally die of grief and despair. It had been many a long year since the Hall had tended the wounded of the battlefield.
Elrond started a fire in the hearth and then spent several minutes selecting various jars from the shelves. Culurien looked over his shoulder with interest, asking him to name the different ingredients as he added them to the steaming water, "for I was considered to be something of an herbalist among my own people."
"If the subject interests you" he responded, "I will gladly give you my knowledge, for I could use an assistant, especially in the gathering of plants and such. It is becoming a lost art in this house, for although I record much information, none so far have been inclined to learn it. Perhaps I should make it part of the school work for the youngsters." He smiled wryly. "Then perhaps, not," he continued. "For I have not the patience to teach those who have no wish to learn. It is too early yet for the collection of leaves, but there are many roots we could go in search of once your strength returns."
With that said, he ladled some of the liquid through a mesh screen into a silver tankard.
Culurien felt refreshed by just the scent as he handed it to her.
"Let it cool," Elrond advised. "Just breathe the fragrance for a while."
Culurien sat down at the long wooden table and watched her host as he put the jars back in their places. Very exotic looking, she thought him, with his dark hair and eyes and floor length, rich-looking robes of a deep burgundy color. Most of her kinspeople had very pale blond hair and bright blue eyes. The males mostly wore tunics and breeches or long knit stockings close to what Elrond was wearing when she first saw him. Even in Lothlórien, where the people were more akin to the people of Imladris, the males wore leggings of some sort, robes being unsuitable for tree climbing. Quite often the females wore similar attire. But then, she thought, such elaborate garments suited this place for this was no cave or tree house, with its thick carpets and lush tapestries.
"All finished?" he asked with a smile. She looked in her cup. It was empty. She did not even remember drinking it.
"Excellent" he said, taking it from her. "We will do this every day for a while, I think. It has certainly put the color back in your cheeks."
She reddened further, not believing it to have been the tonic which achieved this.
Elrond held out his hand she took it, standing up. "Perhaps you would do me the honor of sitting next to me at dinner in the hall tonight?" She was silent. "The longer one hides oneself away, the harder it is to gather strength to emerge."
"I do not think so, just yet," Culurien answered slowly.
"Well then, come walk with me," he said. "Only through exercise and relief of boredom will your appetite return and you regain that which you have lost."
He took her arm and embarked on a lively tour of the great house of Imladris, which men call Rivendell. It was some time before he allowed her to stop and rest and she sank gratefully onto a stone bench.
"There," Elrond said, looking down at her. "You look better already." For her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks flushed from exertion, a smile on her face at his humorous recount of some long ago acrobats as they passed through the Hall of Fire.
"Stay, you will be the death of me, Lord," Culurien jested as she struggled to regain her breath, lost from walking so long and then from laughter.
"Alas, no," Elrond said with mock seriousness. "That would be in direct opposition to all we are trying to achieve here." He waited for Culurien to compose herself. "I have but one more thing I would like to show you today, and then I will let you be," he said, pulling her to her feet. "It is not far, only a little way down to the left."
They walked more slowly and Culurien was grateful. They stopped before an ornately carved, massive, wooden set of doors, closed, but not locked. Elrond used both hands to turn the long handle and stepped back, pulling the heavy door open. The room seemed cavernous, but the light was dim as there were few windows and daylight was waning. Elrond took a torch from the corridor and lit it. With that, he moved confidently into the semi darkness, lighting sconces along the walls as he walked. When there was ample light, he came back to the doorway for Culurien, who was standing outside, shivering from the cold draft that flowed out of the great archway.
"This is called the Hall of Kings," he said somberly, taking her hand and leading her inside. Culurien gasped as she looked at the room in front of her. It was the largest Hall she had ever seen, with massive arched ceiling beams and huge stone fireplaces. It appeared as though an army stood ready to march, for the walls were lined with figures in elvish armor, carrying huge scimitars. Immense standards of many shapes and colors were suspended from the vaulted ceiling, though some were ripped and tattered beyond repair or recognition. As they walked slowly down the center of the room, Culurien could see great carved statues, some of wood some of stone, standing tall, every twenty feet or so, amongst the elvish warriors.
Elrond was quiet for a long while.
"In this hall still live the great Kings and Kingdoms of Old," he finally said.
"You see before you all that are left of the ancient realms of the Eldar in Middle Earth. Doriath and Nargothrond, Gondolin, Nevrast, Lindon and Hísilómë. From the ceiling hang their battle standards and on the far walls you see the likenesses of their kings, most of them, my ancestors." He named each one as he pointed to them in turn.
"Elu Thingol, Fingolfin, Finarfin and Fëanor. Their sons, Fingon, Turgon and Finrod. Their sons, Gil-galad and Eärendil.
He paused and stared with vacant eyes at the likeness of Gil-galad, for a long moment, his thoughts faraway. Culurien touched his arm and he jumped, startled back into the present.
"I am sorry, forgive me," he said as he turned to the other side of the Hall.
"On this side are the great leaders and kings of men, for they are akin to me as well." He named, "Bëor, Barahir, Beren, Huor, Tuor and Túrin. Then come the Kings of Númenor, my brother Elros and his descendants, but there are too many of them to be represented here, save for a few. Elendil, for example. And also the heirlooms of the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor. The Sceptre of Annúminas and Narsil, the sword of Elendil."
Culurien listened to this dissertation with an expression of awe on her face. When Elrond had finished they stood in silence. All of these trappings of ancient kingdoms seemed far removed from her simple life in Eryn Galen, where the record of such times was not remembered or revered, for her people were not akin to the Eldar of Valinor.
Elrond extinguished the sconces and they left the Hall of Kings, pushing the door closed behind them. They walked in silence back to Culurien's room where he took his leave of her, promising to bring her more of the tonic in the morning.
"If you call for me and show me once again, I will remember how to make it myself and not trouble you with it anymore."
A small smile curved his lips as he turned and walked away, saying nothing.
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