Imladris Revisited
By: DLR 2002
Disclaimer: (becoming serious once more) All characters (except Culurien) belong to the estate of JRR Tolkien and his descendants for probably all millennia.
Elrond/OFC
Rated: PG
Chapter 33
Late May 3019
"Why do we have to stop in Lothlórien?" Culurien whispered to Arwen.
"Is it not obvious? My grandsires are coming, we all journey south together."
Culurien sighed. "I am sorry, it is obvious, I simply do not wish to do so."
Arwen looked at her friend with sympathy. "I know how you must feel. Perhaps you will not see him."
"I should have such good fortune," muttered Culurien.
They had reached the outskirts of the forest and they halted, just under the boughs of the trees.
Glorfindel looked around expectantly. "What, no one here to meet us?"
"Apparently not," said Elrond, smiling. "Come, let us travel further inside."
The forest was eerily silent in spite of the noise of the passing horses.
"It seems as if the trees are watching us," said Erestor with a shudder.
"If Lothlórien makes you uncomfortable, stray into Fangorn on your peril," said Elrond, smiling at him.
"Are we going near it?" asked Erestor, paling.
"Near it, yes, but not into it," said Elrond. He lifted his eyebrows. "Unless you are curious? We could make a small side trip."
"No, no," said Erestor hurriedly. "Do not trouble yourself on my account."
Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged smiles.
They rode on, unchecked. All were in awe of the magnificent beauty of the Golden Wood in springtime.
"This is odd," said Glorfindel. "Are the boundaries no longer guarded?"
"Nay, they are there, watching," said Elrond. "I imagine they merely assume we know the way and do not need guidance." He turned in his saddle, looking about. His eyes fell on Culurien and softened somewhat. She looked more uncomfortable than Erestor, if possible.
It cannot be helped. Elrond sighed inwardly. He, however, would not mind meeting this former husband of hers at all.
They had journeyed an entire day beneath the boughs of the Golden Wood and dusk was falling. Still, no sentries approached them.
They stopped at last in an open field. There was a great hill to one side, crowned with trees.
"Cerin Amroth," said Elrond, quietly. A wave of sadness washed over him suddenly and he stood subdued, although he knew not why.
Culurien reached up and touched his face. He took her in his arms and held her tightly, while all around them, others went about the business of preparing food and shelter.
Arwen stood by herself, thoughtful as well, but with much gladness in her heart.
Here she had made her choice and plighted her troth to Aragorn, some forty years ago.
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The fires burned low and the stars came out. Sleep would not come to Elrond and he lay wide awake with Culurien slumbering next to him. He gazed at the heavens as the night deepened, seeking comfort from the stars, as he did when he was young.
"You are miles away, Mellhîr," Culurien said softly. Elrond turned to her, startled.
"I am sorry, did I wake you?"
"I have been unable to sleep as well."
A small smile appeared on his lips. "When did you start snoring while awake?" he teased. He felt her body tense in the darkness.
"I do not snore. Tis you who snores."
"Nay, you do not snore," Elrond agreed, with a soft chuckle. "I must have imagined it. Perchance it was a wild beast in the forest, rooting around . . ."
She slapped him playfully. "Hush this minute, you will wake everyone."
She snuggled back down into his arms, sighing with contentment at the feeling of pleasure the warmth of his body gave to her. She soon was breathing deeply, occasionally making a small snorting noise.
Elrond smiled broadly in the darkness and turned his face away from the heavens, finding his comfort here on Arda as he held her close.
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The end of the next day's journey brought them to the south facing gates of the great city whose walls they had ridden next to for many hours.
Elrond dismounted and approached the gate. There was no one to be seen.
"City of the Galadhrim," he called in his clear voice. "The Host of Imladris seeks entry."
The gate opened soundlessly and the travelers stepped inside. There stood a tall elf that Arwen recognized.
"Orophin," she smiled. He smiled as well. "Welcome to Caras Galadhon, Host of Imladris. The Lord and Lady await thee."
"Why did no one meet us as we entered the wood?" demanded Glorfindel.
"Did you not know the way?" asked Orophin, surprised.
"Yes indeed, but what does that have to . . ."
"You encountered obstacles?" asked Orophin.
"Well, no," admitted Glorfindel, "but an escort . . ."
". . . Seems quite unnecessary."
"Merely common courtesy," grumbled Glorfindel under his breath
Elrond rolled his eyes, hiding a smile. "Enough of these pleasantries, perhaps we could move this along?"
"Certainly, Lord," said Orophin standing to the side to let them pass.
"Are you not going to escort . . . ?" began Glorfindel, "Ai, do not kick me, I am moving," he whispered to Elrond. "Perhaps your feet could move faster than your mouth," Elrond whispered back as they made their way into the city.
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There he is, over there." Culurien, studied her shoes with some intensity.
"Where?"
"Next to the pillar."
"Mmmph," Elrond said, his eyes narrowing.
"Please do not approach him; I have nothing to say to him," Culurien pleaded. Her eyes twinkled. "I also have no wish to see you degenerate into a genitalia slicing mood."
Elrond's lips twitched, but his eyes maintained a slightly murderous look.
"Please," she whispered. "There is no point to it now."
"The point would be to have him understand the extent of the damage he did to you."
"I do not care anymore what he understands or does not. His thoughts are worthless to me."
Elrond looked at her for a minute. "I do not want him to become your Gil-galad. Regrets of words left unsaid can be difficult to live with."
She looked into his eyes and smiled. "Truly, I have naught to say to him. I am ready to go now."
Elrond pulled her arm through his. Turning, they walked away.
"On your head be it," he said gravely, "if he throws a dagger into my back."
"Walk more quickly," she whispered.
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"I had forgotten how much I enjoy long journeys," Culurien said with sarcasm as the rain soaked through her cloak.
"At least it is almost summer," Arwen said. "Wet is bad enough, but cold and wet are much worse."
Culurien smiled at her friend. "Not even this deluge can dampen your spirit."
Arwen's eyes reflected her happiness as she smiled back. "My life's journey awaits me at the end of this one. Each step closer increases my joy."
It had the opposite effect on Elrond. Each stage of the journey brought more and more sadness to him.
Culurien witnessed his growing despair. "Arwen is so happy," she said softly to him one evening. "Would you have her abandon that joy for your sake?"
"Indeed, no. Her unhappiness would not give me pleasure. Either road brings the same grief for me. She will die with him and she will also die without him, better she be happy for a time."
"She will not be, if you cannot control your feelings, at least in public," Culurien whispered quietly.
"My grief is so apparent?" Elrond asked.
"It is. Your entire countenance is stamped with it."
He bowed his head and sighed. "This is becoming harder than I thought it would be."
She stroked his hair for a few minutes, by way of comfort. "Now then," she said, pulling his face toward her. "Practice. Look happy." He forced a smile. "Ugh no. Stop. That is worse."
Elrond looked at her and sighed once again. "You are difficult to please."
"So I have been told," she answered with a smile.
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"I would just like to have a little information," Arwen said to Culurien.
They were walking just on the edge of Fangorn Forest and dusk was falling.
Culurien was embarrassed. "I do not understand why you do not approach Galadriel."
"I have," said Arwen, rolling her eyes. "To listen to Grandmother, it all sounds more spiritual than physical. Maybe it is, for her, after all, she's been married about ten millennia."
"Well," said Culurien, "you are three thousand years old; surely you have picked up some knowledge after all this time."
"How much knowledge did you have before you were married?"
"Very little, but I was only about five hundred, there is a difference."
"Well, there is no difference in my case," said Arwen. "For I have lived a very sheltered life. Sometimes it seemed as though Ada took pains to keep any and all information from me. Even in Lothlórien, I felt as though I were in some kind of cloister, an outsider, trying to see in through a dirty window."
"I see," said Culurien, with understanding. It was really not surprising after all, that Arwen should be so innocent. Given Elrond's own experiences, one could easily understand the extreme lengths to which he would go, to protect his children, especially his daughter.
"Well, it still seems as though you could ask someone else. It would be one thing if we were talking about Gwindor, but we are not, we are talking about your father, it seems awkward."
"Mothers usually tell their daughters, correct?"
"Yes, of course," said Culurien.
"Well, they would be talking about the daughter's father, would they not?" stated Arwen firmly.
"I did not think of it that way," said Culurien, sitting down, her back against a giant oak.
"Are you afraid of the trees?" Arwen asked, suddenly.
"Of course not, I grew up in Eryn Galen, remember?"
"Erestor is petrified," said Arwen with a smile.
"It can be a little unnerving when the trees move around, especially in an ancient forest like this one," Culurien admitted, glad to change the subject.
"Ancient it is," said Arwen thoughtfully. "One can hear many voices."
There was a pause. "Now then," Arwen continued. "Tell me what to expect."
"Half the fun is in the anticipation," said Culurien hopefully. Arwen looked at her.
"Oh, very well," Culurien sighed. "I have had two very different experiences. The first was with someone I thought I was in love with. As it turned out, I did not know what love was." She paused and contemplated her friend. "You, I think, will not have that problem, based on what you have confided to me, about how you feel when you are with Estel.
"This is how love should be, this is what your father and I have as well. Loving with the mind is an important aspect. It will keep your emotions on an even keel, it will endure through the centuries, but the love you will feel when physically intimate with him, the excitement, the desire, this is a precious thing. Hold on tight; do not lose sight of it."
Arwen sighed. "I will be happy to take your advice if you would please just tell me what I am holding on to, I have no clue."
"Fine, we will start at the beginning," said Culurien, rolling her eyes. "Have you ever seen a naked male?"
"Well, yes," Arwen said. "Children, statues."
"Ah yes. Picture that statue in the courtyard in Caras Galadhon, off to the side, near the fountain."
"You mean the one where he looks like he is sprouting a tree from his loins?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Exactly." replied Culurien, with an inward smile.
Arwen was bewildered. "I always thought that was a joke of some kind."
"Nay," said Culurien, valiantly trying to maintain a serious face. "That is what he will come to look like during the act."
"Why on Arda would anyone want to make a statue look like that?"
"It is a natural condition," Culurien said, with her hands covering her mouth.
Arwen was thoughtful. "The condition comes and goes?"
"Yes," said Culurien, barely in control. "It will be like that when he is very excited."
"And what will excite him?"
"You of course, you ninny." Culurien laughed, losing the battle totally.
Arwen looked embarrassed. "What will I have to do?"
"For now, nothing," Culurien said. "Just kiss him and he will do the rest."
"What, exactly, is the rest?" asked Arwen, finally coming to the heart of her worries.
"Well, when it is stiff like that, it slides easily into you," Culurien elaborated.
Arwen paled. "Into me?"
"Yes, into there," said Culurien, pointing. "That is how he puts his seed into you to make a baby and that is where the baby comes out."
"Childbirth, I have seen a little," Arwen admitted, "but I always faint." She looked up suddenly. "Oh dear, I am sorry. This subject must be very painful for you."
"Actually, no," said Culurien, "for I will have children soon."
"Why do you say that?" asked Arwen, puzzled.
"We had a dream, your father and I," Culurien told her, "many years back. Both of us at the same time, the same exact dream."
"A dream? What was it?" asked Arwen, surprised.
"We were very happy and we had two children, a boy and a girl, twins."
"Twins again!" exclaimed Arwen. "Poor Adar! How do you know it was not merely a dream and nothing more?"
"We believe it to have been a reassurance of the future, a sign from Manwë."
"Why is it taking so long?" Arwen asked. "Do you know when it will happen?"
"After we leave Middle-earth and become married," said Culurien quietly.
"Oh," said Arwen, subdued. "Soon, I think you said?"
"Soon," repeated Culurien.
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