Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/r places
thereof.
Musicgrl: Thanks! As for visuals, it really seems silly to me that some people write only for plot, and tell what is going on but not where.
Artemis: Thank you! Sindarin is fun, although my teachers hate it when I'm sort of zoning out in class, and they say my name loudly and I reply "Mani naa ta?" Yay, another grammar addict! Addaliel is about three feet, maybe a bit more, at this point, but of course she is the mortal equivalent of a six-and-a-half-year-old. She will probably never be much more then four and a half feet tall. Sorry it has taken so long, but I will read Elf in a Cage. Have you ever heard of the book The Girl in the Cage? I'm not saying you plagiarized, just that it is a funny coincidence of the titles. Oh, and by the way, do you know what a split infinitive is? I've asked around, but no one seems to know!
Nihtfyr: Actually, Addaliel is twenty-six, making her about six by my measure, so Arwen would be around eight. I guess I hadn't really thought much on that, thanks for pointing it out. As for it being a Mary-Sue, if it is then I hope you will excuse it, the creation would have been unintentional.
Littlesaiyangirl: Thanks!
Blue jeans baby: Thanks! I try not to conform. . .Does your name come from the song 'Tiny Dancer', by any chance?
*****
Elrond's Perspective
*****
It was too much for me, after Celebrian left. She left me with two very young daughters, one son angry and the other "thinking" even more often, old wounds reopened, and a twice-broken heart. I sent the boys to Lothlorien to ask Lady Galadriel to come to Imladris, needing her help, though with what I could not say, and knowing that she would come.
When Elros left, I was young. His leaving cut me deeply, for he was the first person I ever truly lost for ever, and I had never thought we would ever be separated. At first I had been unable to believe it, and that I could go on, my heart aching with every breath I took. After a time the ache grew less, until it was not a cutting pain, and I could go on properly with my life. The ache never left. I still feel it whenever I draw in breath.
And, at times, I would cry for him at night, when all was still and my sorrow was too great. Celebrian, beside me, would awake at once, and she would hold as if I were a child, which at those times I was. I should have hated for my children to see that. After Celebrian left I swore never to cry again.
I knew Arwen would understand that Elladan and Elrohir were going to return shortly, but worried for Addaliel. I was strangely backwards yet again. Arwen sobbed as soon as the boys were gone, shaking. She buried her head in her hands, and although I did my best to console her she did not stop crying for a long time. Addaliel watched all of this, her lips pressed together, her eyes dull yet full of emotion.
Again she baffled me. I wished she could speak, so that I might ask her questions and secure answers. It never occurred to me to have her write out replies, for at this time I was still questioning her intelligence, wondering id her mind was as useless as her tongue. These thoughts were very cruel, and I am glad she never knew of them.
The day after the twins had left, I looked up to see Addaliel standing quietly, staring at me intently. I had not heard her come in. She turned, motioning for me to follow, and in her own way asked me to help her get a book off a rather high shelf. Following this curious event, I hardly saw her until the twins returned.
*****
Addaliel's Perspective
*****
Shortly after Atara left, my brothers Elladan and Elrohir carried a letter to Galadriel, a complete stranger to me. They would be gone for a month, leaving me virtually alone: Arwen was never particularly much of a companion to me, misunderstanding a lack of speech for a lack of intelligence (although, bless her, she meant no harm and was a good person), and Ada, needless to say, was incredibly upset over Atara's departure.
Guiltily, I had done my best to beg them to allow me to accompany them. To do this I tagged along with them all the time, hoping they understood. At last, Elrohir told me, "Ali--" his nickname for me "--you cannot come. I am sorry, lonesome as you may be here it is a dangerous road, and you are young yet." Though I did not understand, I pestered the boys no more after that.
In the month I grew very much. Not so much I grew taller, for I was stunted all my life, but I grew older, and learned better to manipulate my height disadvantages--equally advantageous in certain situations that had yet to arise. But being more or less on my own, it was somewhat difficult for me to get through any day without my height once becoming an obstacle.
I would reach for a book and find it far above my head and out of reach. Being both young and short, my options as I saw them were limited to climbing the shelves, getting help, or pulling over a chair and standing upon it. My decision was to seek assistance, but as my hand hit the doorknob, I paused. Would this not occur in later life? I had been in a similar predicament earlier that week, and had had trouble getting attention for myself without speech, and requesting help without saying so.
The chair was bigger than me, and it took effort to move, but after a time of perhaps a quarter of an hour I was atop the chair and retrieving the desired object. What the book was or why I needed it I have forgotten now, but it was the actually actions, not their causes that defined me then.
After that I did not ask for help. I invented ways of retrieving things and completing tasks. Saddling a horse, for instance, was a rather large obstacle--perhaps the most difficult to conquer--in my battle for independence. Evening a saddle blanket was an evil, evil task, and tying the knot that kept the girth in place on the horse's left side was just as hard.
On some nights Arwen and I would be as sisters, as we rarely ever had been. Those times made me remember when I first stopped speaking, and Arwen yanked on one of my tails of hair, thinking I would cry out. I had spun around and punched her, and she did cry out--very much. After her failure she did not try again, and that seemed to be more-or-less her way of doing things. Those nights that we were kin, I would hear my door creak open, and I began to realize that this was Arwen. She climbed into bed beside me, and wept against me. I never cried, but I held her.
I wondered often if she had cried in Elladan's or Elrohir's arms before she found mine. Was I simply a substitute? One way or another, I felt no bitterness towards Arwen for these nights, although they failed to alter my routines of rising with the sun but to add dark smudges beneath my eyes.
Ada does not know, and never will, of what I witnessed as a child. He will never know the reason I am so unable to offend anyone--for I am. I have seen what hurt does to people if it is emotional, and I would do that to no one. Ada never understood why, no matter who it was that cried, I would hold them and comfort them, but it was because no one deserved to suffer as I had seen. But rarely could I help my family, whose pain I saw closer and far more often. When Arwen came to me to cry, I felt a sort of satisfaction. I sicken even myself with this, being self-satisfied when another was in pain, yet I could do naught to stop this unbidden feeling. I have never forgiven myself for it.
The twins returned to find me an altogether different Elf. It was the first time my independence was called into question. When Elrohir attempted to help me I would push him aside, which hurt me very much, for I loved my brother, but independence was my first priority.
Lady Galadriel changed all that.
Musicgrl: Thanks! As for visuals, it really seems silly to me that some people write only for plot, and tell what is going on but not where.
Artemis: Thank you! Sindarin is fun, although my teachers hate it when I'm sort of zoning out in class, and they say my name loudly and I reply "Mani naa ta?" Yay, another grammar addict! Addaliel is about three feet, maybe a bit more, at this point, but of course she is the mortal equivalent of a six-and-a-half-year-old. She will probably never be much more then four and a half feet tall. Sorry it has taken so long, but I will read Elf in a Cage. Have you ever heard of the book The Girl in the Cage? I'm not saying you plagiarized, just that it is a funny coincidence of the titles. Oh, and by the way, do you know what a split infinitive is? I've asked around, but no one seems to know!
Nihtfyr: Actually, Addaliel is twenty-six, making her about six by my measure, so Arwen would be around eight. I guess I hadn't really thought much on that, thanks for pointing it out. As for it being a Mary-Sue, if it is then I hope you will excuse it, the creation would have been unintentional.
Littlesaiyangirl: Thanks!
Blue jeans baby: Thanks! I try not to conform. . .Does your name come from the song 'Tiny Dancer', by any chance?
*****
Elrond's Perspective
*****
It was too much for me, after Celebrian left. She left me with two very young daughters, one son angry and the other "thinking" even more often, old wounds reopened, and a twice-broken heart. I sent the boys to Lothlorien to ask Lady Galadriel to come to Imladris, needing her help, though with what I could not say, and knowing that she would come.
When Elros left, I was young. His leaving cut me deeply, for he was the first person I ever truly lost for ever, and I had never thought we would ever be separated. At first I had been unable to believe it, and that I could go on, my heart aching with every breath I took. After a time the ache grew less, until it was not a cutting pain, and I could go on properly with my life. The ache never left. I still feel it whenever I draw in breath.
And, at times, I would cry for him at night, when all was still and my sorrow was too great. Celebrian, beside me, would awake at once, and she would hold as if I were a child, which at those times I was. I should have hated for my children to see that. After Celebrian left I swore never to cry again.
I knew Arwen would understand that Elladan and Elrohir were going to return shortly, but worried for Addaliel. I was strangely backwards yet again. Arwen sobbed as soon as the boys were gone, shaking. She buried her head in her hands, and although I did my best to console her she did not stop crying for a long time. Addaliel watched all of this, her lips pressed together, her eyes dull yet full of emotion.
Again she baffled me. I wished she could speak, so that I might ask her questions and secure answers. It never occurred to me to have her write out replies, for at this time I was still questioning her intelligence, wondering id her mind was as useless as her tongue. These thoughts were very cruel, and I am glad she never knew of them.
The day after the twins had left, I looked up to see Addaliel standing quietly, staring at me intently. I had not heard her come in. She turned, motioning for me to follow, and in her own way asked me to help her get a book off a rather high shelf. Following this curious event, I hardly saw her until the twins returned.
*****
Addaliel's Perspective
*****
Shortly after Atara left, my brothers Elladan and Elrohir carried a letter to Galadriel, a complete stranger to me. They would be gone for a month, leaving me virtually alone: Arwen was never particularly much of a companion to me, misunderstanding a lack of speech for a lack of intelligence (although, bless her, she meant no harm and was a good person), and Ada, needless to say, was incredibly upset over Atara's departure.
Guiltily, I had done my best to beg them to allow me to accompany them. To do this I tagged along with them all the time, hoping they understood. At last, Elrohir told me, "Ali--" his nickname for me "--you cannot come. I am sorry, lonesome as you may be here it is a dangerous road, and you are young yet." Though I did not understand, I pestered the boys no more after that.
In the month I grew very much. Not so much I grew taller, for I was stunted all my life, but I grew older, and learned better to manipulate my height disadvantages--equally advantageous in certain situations that had yet to arise. But being more or less on my own, it was somewhat difficult for me to get through any day without my height once becoming an obstacle.
I would reach for a book and find it far above my head and out of reach. Being both young and short, my options as I saw them were limited to climbing the shelves, getting help, or pulling over a chair and standing upon it. My decision was to seek assistance, but as my hand hit the doorknob, I paused. Would this not occur in later life? I had been in a similar predicament earlier that week, and had had trouble getting attention for myself without speech, and requesting help without saying so.
The chair was bigger than me, and it took effort to move, but after a time of perhaps a quarter of an hour I was atop the chair and retrieving the desired object. What the book was or why I needed it I have forgotten now, but it was the actually actions, not their causes that defined me then.
After that I did not ask for help. I invented ways of retrieving things and completing tasks. Saddling a horse, for instance, was a rather large obstacle--perhaps the most difficult to conquer--in my battle for independence. Evening a saddle blanket was an evil, evil task, and tying the knot that kept the girth in place on the horse's left side was just as hard.
On some nights Arwen and I would be as sisters, as we rarely ever had been. Those times made me remember when I first stopped speaking, and Arwen yanked on one of my tails of hair, thinking I would cry out. I had spun around and punched her, and she did cry out--very much. After her failure she did not try again, and that seemed to be more-or-less her way of doing things. Those nights that we were kin, I would hear my door creak open, and I began to realize that this was Arwen. She climbed into bed beside me, and wept against me. I never cried, but I held her.
I wondered often if she had cried in Elladan's or Elrohir's arms before she found mine. Was I simply a substitute? One way or another, I felt no bitterness towards Arwen for these nights, although they failed to alter my routines of rising with the sun but to add dark smudges beneath my eyes.
Ada does not know, and never will, of what I witnessed as a child. He will never know the reason I am so unable to offend anyone--for I am. I have seen what hurt does to people if it is emotional, and I would do that to no one. Ada never understood why, no matter who it was that cried, I would hold them and comfort them, but it was because no one deserved to suffer as I had seen. But rarely could I help my family, whose pain I saw closer and far more often. When Arwen came to me to cry, I felt a sort of satisfaction. I sicken even myself with this, being self-satisfied when another was in pain, yet I could do naught to stop this unbidden feeling. I have never forgiven myself for it.
The twins returned to find me an altogether different Elf. It was the first time my independence was called into question. When Elrohir attempted to help me I would push him aside, which hurt me very much, for I loved my brother, but independence was my first priority.
Lady Galadriel changed all that.
