A/N:
Aaaaaand we return to our normal broadcast. It's just dawned on me that I haven't put any disclaimers up.
Whoops. Well, in case anyone was under the misapprehension that I created all
these characters, names and places myself, sorry folks. I didn't. Not a darn
thing. It was all made up by this Tolkien fella. The only character I own is
Nárwen, and if anyone wants her, they're welcome to her. What? No takers? No?
Why ever not?
Big thank you to everyone who reviewed. Lot's of
comments to make, I do apologise…not all of them very cogent. I'm Welsh, I can't help gabbling…
Nemis: ::passes around the chocolate elfies to the reviewers:: Did you
bring enough for everyone, blessed beta? Sorry for startling you with a new
chapter over breakfast. :p I'm very impressed that you can be so on the ball
with the finer points of elvish that early in the morning.
Arabella Thorne: Bribes eh?
We'll talk. Thank you for putting up with
my ramblings the other night (I've had sleep now) and for pointing out those
pesky prepositions.
Kalurien: This chappies longer and I'm harumphing privately on your behalf. ;o)
Vorondis: You know, I didn't realise that C.T. wrote Thingol's death scene. And that's one of my fave bits too. You learn something knew everyday. Thanks for that li'l tidbit. Incidentally, I don't think of the Sil as "more" canonical than HoME, I'm just treating it like canon for practicality's sake, it's a purely arbitrary decision. I'm just bloody minded like that. :o)
Earl the Pearl: But on the other hand, they would probably have the same, heh…libido as humans. I don't know, Elwing confuses me, which brings me nicely to the reviews of…
Staggering Wood Elf, Alena Elwing is a pain in the, you know, to write! She's a strange one, I find her behaviour very odd. I hope I've got a handle on her now. Eep. Lots of Elwing in this chapter. Hope you like her. ::crosses fingers::
Dragon, Belthronding: Aw, you've gotta love Robert Winston! :D Dragon, hope you're still around, but probably not because essays caused a writing hiatus. :o( Belthronding, Maglor's mine! I'll fight you for him! ::strikes ridiculous kung fu pose, topples over backwards::
Liqua Mire: I think it was Feanor's wife that had the red hair, but, you know, I like your idea too. Bah, I like the red highlights, I'm keeping 'em! :D
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Elrond sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest and
staring at the opposite wall. Within the same hour of Elrond's encounter the
house had become a flurry of activity; guards had arrived, messengers were
coming and going and the ground floor was teeming with town officials. For some reason, the presence of soldiers
just below his window made him even more uneasy than he had been before. He played the meeting over and over in his
head; 'Light of the Trees', 'Holy Jewels' and the word that cause a knot of
dread to form in the pit of Elrond's stomach; 'kinslayer'. Elrond did not
completely understand what was happening, a state of affairs he resolved to
change.
"Elrond?"
He snapped out of his reverie to see Elros standing by the bed, brandishing two carved, wooden soldiers.
"I do not have room
for both, which should I take? Poldon",
he held out a figure wearing armour and a sword and then an archer with a red
cloak, "or Roitar?"
Elrond pondered for a moment, "Poldon; Roitar's bow is delicate, you would not want it to get broken on the journey." Elros had been unusually subdued this evening, Elrond had noticed. He was glad that his younger brother had missed the incident; by the time the bewildered child had caught up with his mother the visitor had already left. Nevertheless, despite this and his youth, he was still astute enough to know that something was very, very wrong.
Elros sat on the edge of Elrond's bed, swinging his
legs. After a few moments of silence
Elros punched his brother lightly on the shoulder. As gestures of comfort went, it was not the most intimate but it
was certainly genuine. Elrond smiled for the first time that night.
"What is Gil-Galad like?" Asked Elros for about the fifth time that evening.
"It was a long time ago Elros," Elrond mentally calculated the year-span, "Six years. I do not remember much at all." Elrond dug deep into his memory searching for the one and only time he had met the High King. He had a hazy recollection of laughing grey eyes and the shy, four-year old child that he was being tempted out from hiding behind his mother's skirts with sweets.
"What time are we leaving tomorrow?"
"First light." Elrond could not help smiling at the gleam that his brother's eyes took on when he thought about sailing.
"Ammë said I was too young to go in a ship like Ada earlier
today but I knew I was old enough."
Elros puffed his chest out proudly.
"I think she meant you were too young to go on your own. I mean, you are only seven."
"I am not!"
Elrond looked puzzled. "Yes you are."
"I am not. I am nearly eight. You said so the other day."
"Yes but," Elrond decided it was not worth it, "oh, never
mind."
"So is Ammë coming then?"
Elrond felt the knot tighten. "I know
not," he whispered. "Nárwen is
definitely." Elros groaned. Elrond hopped off the bed and ruffled his
brother's hair. "Oh it is not that
bad."
Elros flinched away from Elrond and whined, "She always spoils my games."
"You mean she does not let you get away with anything."
"Same thing," said Elros with a mischievous smile. "Where are you going?"
"I am just going to the study for a while. Put Poldon away, you do not want to forget him tomorrow."
Elros waited until his brother had left the room and then addressed Poldon and Roitar with a grin. "Just wait, Nárwen will get him into trouble for reading by poor light, then he will see."
~*~
"They should have put guards on the house weeks ago. This should never have been permitted to happen."
"There is little sense in dwelling on that now, Nárwen," Elwing sank into the cushions on a chaise longue and surveyed the detritus left from the innumerable meetings that had been conducted in the house that day.
'Should'. The word echoed derisively through Elwing's mind. I 'should' have my husband with me. I 'should' not have to face watching over Sirion, the jewel and two young sons alone. People 'should' not be willing to kill for the sake of a glorified bauble. 'Should' matters naught.
Nárwen busied herself by puttering around the room, tidying the stacks of papers that were scattered about, while she continued her retrospective advice. "But the boys"-
-"Would have been frightened by it. I did not want to upset them unless it were necessary, unless I were sure." Elwing did not speak the rest. And I did not want to face the truth, the truth that I knew this day would come, that the sons of Fëanor would seek to finish what they began in Doriath. I just hoped I could face it after Eärendil had returned and I could share the weight of inevitability with him.
Elwing could see that Nárwen was not satisfied with that answer; the thin line of her lips, the set of her shoulders. The unspoken disagreement was palpable. "You do not approve of me." Nárwen was shocked into stillness by her mistress' calm outburst. It was a statement, not a question that had been directed at her and for the first time in her long life, Nárwen found herself lost for words. "You think I neglect my sons." Again, the mistress of the house spoke in the same eerily serene tone of voice.
"I", Nárwen stammered, "I have never said anything to make my Lady think"-
"You have no need to speak, I see it in your eyes." Those eyes were now cast downwards, unwilling to meet Elwing's searching gaze. "You can speak now if you wish."
"Lady?"
"You can tell me what you think of me. I am curious to hear how you would translate those baleful glances into words."
Nárwen shifted uneasily. "It is not my place."
"I am making it your place. Fear not, there is nothing you could say that would incur my wrath."
"Very well," she dropped the stack of papers she was holding back on the table with a satisfying 'slap'. She then sat on a hardback chair opposite her mistress, her hands clasped on her knees. "What do I think?" After this initial hesitation, she dived in. Elwing had invited her honesty, why do this by halves? "I think your husband ought to spend less time trying to find his parents and more time worrying about the family he has here. I think you carry a heavy burden, yet you refuse help. As a result, I see Elrond taking on the responsibilities of a parent while you are," she paused to find a neutral enough word, "distracted. While he is wise beyond his years, emotionally, he is of course, still but a child."
Elwing mentally toted up all the 'shoulds' that were implicit in Nárwen's speech and it was a speech. Elwing guessed that her maid had wanted to say it for some time. If nothing else, it was somewhat amusing to see Nárwen live up to her name. Well, at least some of those 'shoulds' could be dealt with. She continued to lounge back on the cushions, languidly picking threads off her white gown, outwardly showing no sign of being affected by this exchange.
"I am distracted. I do not mean to be," Again, her speech was maddeningly calm. She let out a sad laugh, "And yet, here I am, sending them away. No, it is best, they will be safer on Balar."
Nárwen asked the obvious question. "Do you ever consider giving up the Silmaril?"
"Never," she answered without hesitation, "my parents died because of it, I am not about to just hand it over. Besides, the people would never allow it. They think it brings them good fortune. Time will tell that."
An awkward silence descended which prompted Nárwen to go back to her chores. The constant rustling began to rankle with Elwing; she wanted solitude.
"Nárwen, it is alright, leave them. I will look though them in the morning."
"Very well, Lady. I shall check on the boys; make sure Elros has actually packed some clothes as well as toys."
Elwing sighed with relief when she heard the door behind her close. She closed her eyes and ran through a list in her head of the multitude of matters that would require her attention tomorrow. She groaned softly when she heard the door click open again only a minute later. She sat up and turned see Elrond standing in the doorway, hesitating to come in. Time to get started on those 'shoulds'. She beckoned him over to the couch and patted the seat beside her. Elrond lethargically climbed up beside her and laid his head on her shoulder. "All packed?" Elrond nodded. "And Elros?" She felt another sign of assent press against her shoulder. She rubbed his back gently in an attempt to diffuse the tension in his muscles. She kissed the top of his head and spoke softly, "Elrond, there is no need to be afraid. I promise." Still he said nothing. "Ion-nín, no harm will come to you, I will see to it." She tried to lighten the mood a little. "You will meet Ereinion again soon. You would like that?" This time he answered with a shrug. "Do you not wish to see your cousin again?"
"I do not know."
Elwing tucked a dark braid behind his ear and attempted to coax him into the realm of the polysyllabic. "I know he will be glad to see the two of you again after so long; Elros was only a babe when he last saw the two you. Do you remember much about him?"
"I can remember hiding from him."
"Well, I assure you, once you overcame your bashfulness, you two got along very well."
Elrond sat up to face her, the ghost of a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Really?"
Elwing tidied the braid on the other side of his head and smiled, "Yes, really. I seem to recall you very much enjoying the view from atop his shoulders."
The child began to blush. "He carried me? That is not very, kingly." Elwing tried to decide which part of the memory was more amusing; the sight of the High King of the Noldor charging around with a toddler perched on his royal shoulders or the looks on the faces of his retainers. "Why did he do that?"
"Because I would not allow him to sit you on his horse." She shook her head, "Why do I get the feeling that you and your brother will return from Balar, horribly spoiled?"
Elrond abruptly sprang up to kneel on the couch, so his pleading eyes were level with his mother's. "Come with us", he blurted.
Elwing had to swallow to keep her voice from cracking, "Elrond, I cannot. I must stay."
"Why?" The syllable came out as a piteous mewl.
"My place is here, I- I have responsibilities. While you father is away I"-
-"They will kill you if they do not get what they want. They tried before."
"How do you know about that?"
Elrond suddenly became very interested in the couch's fabric. "I read about it," he admitted after a silence that seemed longer than it really was.
"In one of the books I told you that were not to look at until you were older?" Elrond nodded glumly. "I do not suppose it matters overmuch. You had already found out a great deal thanks you our visitor earlier today." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Who was that?"
"That, was Maglor," answered Elwing bitterly.
"How can you be so certain? You must have been very young when Doriath was attacked."
"I remember." She drew the despondent child into her arms once more. "I am sorry about today. Truly I am, I should have protected you from hearing those things."
The boy huddled closer into her embrace. He suddenly felt so safe. As he took in the slight lavender scent of her gown, his mind snapped back to his feelings earlier, when his mother had put herself between him and Maglor. Where he had felt vulnerable only a few moments before, as soon as his mother had arrived and he cowered behind her, gripping her dress, it seemed as though nothing could touch him. His mother was right, all would be well, they would come to no harm.
"Promise me something, Elrond. Do not speak of this to Elros and do not worry for me, it is not your place. Go to Balar, be safe, get spoiled by Gil-Galad." She released him from the hug and tipped up his chin to look at him, "Now I will make a promise. I know I have been distant but when this is over, I will be around more. Promise." Elrond smiled weakly but a hint of worry was still in his features.
"Come," said Elwing in a brighter tone, "to bed with you. We do not want you missing the tide tomorrow. That is assuming Elros has left room for you after his little soldiers are packed onto the ship."
Elrond giggled, "That is unfair Ammë. He is being very mature about it, he showed me. He has a shortlist."
"Hm," laughed Elwing as she made her way to the door, her arm around Elrond's shoulder, "Such organisation. When he grows up he will make a fine"-
She was cut off by a sound that chilled her to her core; the chiming of the town's alarm bell. After a few agonizing seconds both mother and son could discern panicked yells mingling with the sharp, metallic clanging.
Elrond took his mother's cold hand in his own and gave it a nervous squeeze. "Ammë?" He looked up to see that her face had paled to match her garb. When she spoke it was barely more than a defeated whisper.
"No."
______________________________________________________________________________________________
A/N:
Ion-nín = My son.
The toy soldier's names: I go these from the Quenya baby book: http://www.elvish.org/elm/names.html
Poldon is a derivation of polda, meaning 'strong/burly' and is apparently the Quenya equivalent of Brian. Isn't that cute?
Roitar is a derivation of roita, meaning 'pursue' and is the Quenya equivalent of Hunter.
