Imladris Revisited
By: DLR 2002
Disclaimer: You should know it by now.
Elrond/OFC
Rated: PG
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Chapter 25
Elrond spent most of the next day standing on the high bank at the ford of the river Bruinen. The river was quiet, the ford shallow, as it always was in October, the melting snow from the mountains diminishing as the warm season wore on.
Elrohir joined him at one point. "What are you doing, Adar?"
"Waiting," said Elrond simply.
"Do you see Elladan?"
"Nay," said Elrond, his eyes softening as he looked at his son. "Do not fret, he is coming. Other concerns take priority, however."
Elrohir was silent. Finally he mumbled, "I apologize for my behavior last night at dinner."
Elrond smiled. "I understand it. We need speak no more of it unless you wish."
"Nay," returned Elrohir. "I have no defense to put forth, it was inexcusable. I will wait, as you suggest."
He put his hand on his father's shoulder for a moment, and then he went to mount his horse.
Elrond turned his eyes away from his son and looked steadily across the Bruinen once more.
It was late afternoon, turning to twilight when Gandalf rode up and Culurien was with him, behind the saddle. Elrond had in the meantime moved to higher ground. Other residents of Imladris had been gathering, the crowd growing steadily, throughout the afternoon.
Culurien handed Elrond a flask and some bread. "Thank you," he said absently. "What are you doing here? It was my wish you make ready the Hall of Healing."
"All is ready," said Culurien. "I want to see what you mean to do." Her voice lowered. "Also, I wish to see the Nine."
"You will get that wish very shortly," Elrond remarked between bites.
As they waited, the sky grew grey. Suddenly, a cold wind rustled through the trees, carrying an eerie high-pitched whine to their ears.
There was a great commotion on the opposite bank and they could hear approaching hoof-beats.
"There is Arwen," Elrond whispered.
They watched in stunned silence as the elf-maiden's horse broke through the trees and entered the river. She had what appeared to be a sack lying across the front of her saddle.
"Frodo," said Gandalf quietly.
"There you are, look." Elrond clutched her arm and pointed, as the black figures emerged from the woods. The Witch King of Angmar was the first to enter the shallow water. Arwen had nearly reached the opposite bank when she turned and brandished a sword.
"What is she doing?" asked Culurien, horrified. Most of the black riders were in the river now.
"Arwen, get out of the way," whispered Elrond through clenched teeth. He held his hand aloft and a wondrous light shone from it. "Nîn o chithaeglir," he exclaimed, his clear elven voice ringing out with great intensity. "Lasto beth daer." His eyes closed. "Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in ulaer!"*
There was a roaring and rushing noise. Gandalf turned toward it, his staff held high. On the far bank they could see a figure with his hands up as well, radiating a white glow, effectively keeping the panicking black horses in the deepening river.
"Glorfindel?" Culurien whispered, unbelieving.
At that moment a tremendous wall of water came crashing out of the mountains. The elf-horse reared and climbed the steep bank hastily.
It looked as though the river had become white riders on white horses, galloping frantically. They crashed down into the black figures, overwhelming them.
Elrond stood with his eyes still shut, his hand outstretched, his lips moving silently, as the flood roared past them.
Gandalf took him by the shoulder and shook him gently. "Well done, my friend. It is over, they are finished."
Elrond opened his eyes as if coming out of a trance.
Arwen had dismounted and was kneeling on the steep bank, clutching the sack she had transported. Elrond ran quickly down to her, followed by many others.
"Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad,"* she whispered.
Elrond approached with fear in his heart. "What is it?"
"Ada." She looked up, tears in her eyes. "He has passed over."
Elrond leaned over the hobbit as Arwen laid him on the ground. He placed both hands on Frodo's head and looked deeply into his eyes.
"Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad," he repeated with intensity. Frodo breathed easier and some color came back to his face.
"I said that!" exclaimed Arwen, annoyed. "Why did it not work for me?"
Elrond sat back on his heels and looked at his daughter. "Perhaps the measure of grace one is allowed relates directly to the measure of one's respect one has for one's father's wishes," he said meaningfully with raised eyebrows. His gaze softened and he gave her a small smile. "It also might have helped to pay more attention to your studies." He picked up the hobbit gently and walked away.
Arwen stood on the river bank and watched the water subside. Glorfindel and Aragorn crossed the ford on horseback with the remaining hobbits. "Gandalf, Gandalf," they cried, spotting him.
Aragorn dismounted. "Estel," Arwen whispered as he took her in his arms.
"Well done, Arwen, well done." He kissed her warmly.
Gandalf greeted the hobbits, clapping them on their backs. "Welcome to Rivendell."
"Where is Frodo?" they clamored as one.
"You shall see him," Gandalf answered. "All in good time."
He led them through the valley to the Last Homely House. By the time that they reached the Hall of Healing, they were subdued and overwhelmed by the great house of Elrond.
The master of the house and his lady were bent over the prone figure of Frodo on a table. They raised their eyes and straightened up as the newcomers arrived.
Elrond looked at Aragorn questioningly.
"Morgul sword," he answered, producing the hilt.
Elrond sighed. "Not again. How long has it been?"
Aragorn calculated. "Seventeen days."
Elrond looked at him in amazement. "A wonder he still lives."
Sam was at Frodo's side, instantly. "Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo."
Elrond looked at him, then at Merry and Pippin as if noticing them for the first time. "Greetings, masters Periannath.* Welcome to Rivendell."
Sam gazed up in wonder at the tall elf lord, of whom Bilbo had spoken, many times. "Will my master be all right?"
"That is a goal toward which I shall put forth my entire strength," answered Elrond gravely. "Meanwhile, you must be weary; we shall find chambers for you."
"We want to stay with Frodo," said Merry, bravely. Elrond turned to regard him. "Please," whispered Merry, shrinking visibly.
"So do we," said Sam and Pippin, somewhat less bravely.
"Very well," said Elrond, his eyebrow lifting, a small smile playing across his lips. "I must warn you; however, this procedure is not for the squeamish." Arwen left abruptly. "You must stand back, please," Elrond continued, picking up a sharp knife.
Culurien took off Frodo's vest and shirt.
"Seventeen days," Elrond muttered. "It will perhaps be better if we work a small area at a time over several days, lest he lose too much blood."
He positioned the knife and reopened the wound. "Put pressure, Linariel, here and here," he instructed. He picked up a pitcher of liquid and cleansed the wound, washing the blood away.
He looked up. "Estel," he said to Aragorn. "Assist please. Take Culurien's place. You wash," he explained, giving her the pitcher. "I need both hands."
He searched the incision, pulling out small threads. He glanced up at his foster son. "Did you not clean this at the time?"
"You know me better than to ask that," Aragorn replied testily. "It was dark; we were being chased by Nazgûl. I may have missed something."
Elrond grunted. He took his hand out of the wound and washed the blood off in a nearby basin.
Pippin promptly fainted. Merry put his hand over his mouth and tried desperately to swallow. Sam, who sat nearer, watched in shocked silence, no color left in his face. "What are you doing, Master?"
Elrond looked over at him. "A morgul sword breaks off inside the victim." He turned to Aragorn. "Did you see the blade, Estel?"
"Yes," said Aragorn, "it was notched. I found a piece myself when I cleaned the wound, but there is obviously more in there."
"Obviously," agreed Elrond. He turned back to Sam. "The piece that is left inside will continue to work its way inward, toward the heart."
Sam turned even paler if possible. Elrond resumed his search of the wound, lengthening it with the knife.
"What happens then?" Sam whispered softly.
"Once it pierces the heart, the victim becomes a wraith, such as them, only weaker," Elrond said grimly. "Wash, Linariel, please."
Frodo stirred, moaning.
Elrond shook his head. "Now is not a good time to wake, Frodo Baggins."
Culurien took a jar from the shelf and applied some of the contents to a small cloth. She held it over the hobbit's nose and mouth until he lay quiet again.
Elrond looked with concern at Aragorn's tired face. "How goes it, Estel?"
"I am fine, have no care for me."
Elrond probed the wound for another ten minutes or so. "That is enough for one day." He stood with a sigh and washed his hands.
Culurien took the pitcher and cleaned the incision thoroughly as Elrond prepared to do the stitching.
"I will do that, Mellhîr," she whispered in his ear. He looked up at her and their eyes locked together.
"Inyë mel le," he whispered in Quenya.
"Im ista," she replied with a smile in Sindarin.*
Gandalf smirked at them. "Come hobbits," he said, standing. "What, Peregrin asleep already?"
Elrond opened another jar and held it under Pippin's nose. The hobbit came to life immediately, coughing and opening his eyes.
"Mithrandir," said Elrond. "I would speak with you. Estel." He turned to him. "Please find chambers for our guests."
Aragorn inclined his head. He gestured to the hobbits and led them out of the room.
Elrond stepped towards Gandalf. "Where is it?"
The wizard shrugged. "Vest pocket, I imagine."
"You look."
"Not I," returned Gandalf.
"Culurien," said Elrond. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, waiting. "We would like to ascertain that the hobbit still has the One Ring in his possession. Would you search his clothing please?"
She was nonplussed. "Why do you need me? Are you not capable of identifying a golden ring?"
Elrond became more serious. "As a ringbearer, I fear to touch it. It would be more deadly to me than morgul blades, I think."
"And you, Mithrandir." She turned to him. "What is your fear?"
Gandalf looked at Elrond. "The same, I'm sorry to say."
She stared at him in amazement. "You hold an elven ring?"
"Indeed I do."
It was Culurien's turn to look at Elrond. "He is not an elf," she said unnecessarily.
"No indeed," said Elrond. "It is actually Círdan's ring. Mithrandir is borrowing it."
Her jaw dropped even more. "You pass them around?"
Gandalf and Elrond exchanged embarrassed looks. "Nay, of course not," said Elrond. "This was an unusual circumstance."
"Fine," she sighed, picking up Frodo's jacket. She felt through all the pockets, making a face once or twice. What is this in here? she thought, bringing out her hand. "Ugh." She went to wash her fingers.
Elrond sighed and rolled his eyes.
"I am looking, do not rush me."
"Try the vest," said Gandalf, helpfully.
She picked up the garment and felt the pockets. Reaching in one, her face changed as she pulled out the beautiful, glittering, golden ring. She laid it on the table and they all stared at it.
Suddenly Elrond winced and put his hands over his ears.
"What is it?" Culurien asked, concerned.
"I hear a voice, coming from it, pounding into my head." He looked at Gandalf. "Do you hear it?"
"Yes," Gandalf replied calmly.
Elrond's eyes turned back to the Ring. He lowered his hands, slowly. "That is better, it quiets down." His lips curved in a small smile. "I doubt that it likes being here."
Culurien turned back to Frodo and finished dressing the wound. Elrond pulled out a cabinet drawer and found a length of chain. He picked up the Ring with tweezers and slipped the chain through it. "Here." He offered it to Gandalf.
The Istar held out his hands, palms outwards. "Nay, master elf. I will not take that thing."
"Just put it back in the pocket," sighed Culurien. "You only wished to know if it was still there, did you not?"
Elrond smiled. "You are correct, Linariel, as usual." He followed her suggestion. "We will need to have a council to discuss this matter," he said to Gandalf. "Messengers have been sent out already, in anticipation." Elrond looked very grave. "The Doom of Middle-earth . . ."
"Yes, yes," said Gandalf hastily. "I totally agree, but please, dinner first, council later. I am famished."
Elrond paused in astonishment, his mouth still open. Culurien hid a smile with her hand.
"By all means," he said, finally. "The bell should be sounding shortly."
He picked Frodo up from the table and laid him in a nearby bed, pulling a blanket up over him.
Culurien assisted him. "Shall I stay and watch?"
"Nay, he should be fine for a while," said Elrond, pulling her hand through his arm.
They walked in silence to his chamber. Once inside, she turned towards him, touching his face.
His arms went around her and he sighed. "It has been a long day."
"Indeed," she agreed, caressing his ear lightly.
She pulled his head down to her and began kissing him, her lips soft, gently exploring, her breath warm as her hands disappeared beneath his garments.
"Stay, a moment," he whispered. He raised his head and looked around the room. "Is anybody in here?"
Elrohir came in from the terrace. "Oh, there you are, Adar, at last."
Elrond and Culurien looked at each other and started shaking with silent laughter.
"I shall have to start using the lock on the door in the future," he said under his breath.
"What is so amusing?" asked Elrohir, which only made them laugh harder.
Elrond recovered himself finally. "Did you wish to see me?"
"Yes Adar, there are some questions I would like to have answered."
"Come, speak to me as I change," Elrond said as he walked to his dressing room.
Culurien could only smile and sigh.
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*From the movie, of course. 'Waters of the Misty Mountains listen to the great word; flow waters of Loudwater against the Ringwraiths!'
*'Frodo, hear my voice, come back to [the] light.'
*Halflings
*I love you (thee) Q
I know. S