Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.
Imladris was more than beautiful.
If people insisted on calling Imladris beautiful, they were simply going to have to change the definition of the word, for it did not describe adequately the scene before me now. Legolas, Gimli and I had ridden for the past four days, stopping seldom and only when darkness forced us to at night. Our diligence had finally paid off; here we were now, sitting atop our mounts overlooking the valley. It was late afternoon, not quite dusk, and the border guards would soon join us, at least that was what Legolas had predicted just a few minutes ago. I knew not whether it was simply our proximity to the sanctuary, or if his Elven senses had picked up sounds or scents of others, but it mattered not. I trusted his word without question, so I would not be surprised when the Elves of Imladris would burst in on our serenity as we beheld the sight before us. It did not take long, and among their number was one of our very good friends—Elrohir. I was very glad to see him.
"Well met, friends!" Elrohir shouted as he drew his elegant steed to a halt. "You certainly were slow about arriving. What took you so long, Legolas? Did you become lost?" All the warriors with him shared a good laugh at Legolas' expense. I almost felt sorry for the prince.
"Tis a long story," Legolas replied with a grin, looking not at all embarrassed by the teasing. "One best related after a long wash and plenty of wine and song. Lead on, son of Elrond! I am tired of this journey!"
Without any further fanfare, we were led down into the valley, escorted by the son of the Lord of Imladris, and with the warriors of his border guard surrounding us. We forded the Bruinen at a very shallow place. This was a relief. While I was an avid horsewoman, I did not much care to swim a mount through deep water, although I could do it and had done so when necessary. It just was not something I would rate high on the list of activities I enjoyed.
I am sure my mouth remained in a constant state of slackness. It was a wonder I did not catch a few bugs within it, as I felt my jaw drop repeatedly at the wonder of my surroundings. The foliage was the perpetual green it had been since we had traveled next to the Bruinen, simply more so, and the sky also seem bluer here, within the boundaries of this sanctuary. It made me wonder about the power of the Elves, perhaps Elrond's power in particular. The sense of peace and tranquility that settled upon my soul was almost instantaneous with my arrival, and I could not decide if I longed to sleep where I may land or explore until I dropped. My senses were on overload, and I knew not which to do first.
As it turned out, it was not left up to me. I followed amidst the escort until we arrived at the foot of a massive stone staircase, very wide, but not extreme in height. It was the entrance to the House of Elrond. We dismounted and before I could protest, my Dori was led away, along with all my belongings. I wondered what the Elf that found Jonas would say when my cousin was discovered hanging from the horn of Dori's saddle. Oh well, no matter. I had given up trying to figure out what the Elves would decide about my character. What they would behold would be what they would get. Me and only me. It was all that I had, really, when it came right down to it. What more did anyone have?
It was all suddenly feeling very surreal. I was finally in Imladris. The House of Elrond. Where Arwen, and Elladan and Elrohir—and even Aragorn—had grown to adulthood. And it was a place that seemed as if out of some sort of dream world to me. As I ascended the staircase, I glanced all around me, noticing the walkways leading to and from the huge entrance. Many were covered walkways, arched stonework, ancient by the look of them, some of them vine-covered. There was sculpture everywhere! The artists were gifted beyond belief! The marble or whatever medium they had carved the likenesses in was so finely wrought, it literally brought tears to my eyes. I believed I could spend hundreds of years wandering this haven and never even see half of the wonders there were to be seen if one but looked long enough.
We reached the great wooden doors to the house too soon. I still had much I wished to see. I finally became aware that our party had dwindled to four. We had lost our escort at the foot of the stairs, and I had been so busy gaping at my surroundings I had not even noticed. I glanced at Elrohir and saw that he was practically laughing at me.
"What?" I asked crossly.
"Nothing," he answered defensively. "You seem as if you are enjoying yourself already, that is all."
"I am, thank you very much," I replied with a smile, feeling very foolish for seeming to be a person of such a simple mind.
"Where is your other half, Elrohir?" Gimli asked curiously. "You two are seldom seen separately, at least by me."
"Elladan is attending a difficult birth down in the stables," Elrohir replied. "The mare is older and dear to my brother, and he fears to lose her or her foal."
We made our way down a long hallway, which was massively wide, and which was adorned with more artwork, both on the walls—in the form of portraits and landscapes—and in the architecture itself—in the form of arches and sconces, and things such as those. I knew not where we were going, nor did I care. I would find out soon enough. For the moment, I was simply content on the journey, which took us to our unknown destination. It was incredible.
It was no wonder when I tripped up the first step of the staircase we had come to ascend. Elrohir caught me before I banged my knees on the second step, thanks be. That would have hurt!
"Shall I carry you, Maeren?" Elrohir asked, laughing again.
"No, Master Elf, that will not be necessary," I replied disdainfully. "I am quite capable on my own, thank you."
"It was but a simple offer," he said peacefully and we continued up the stairs.
As we gained the landing, Legolas asked, "Am I being housed in my usual room—third door on the left?"
"If that is your preference," Elrohir said, "then that shall be your room."
"It is my preference," Legolas replied, "and I am going there now, and I will join you at evening meal—not a second before." He got up into Elrohir's face and repeated what he had just stated, punctuating every word; "not a second before." The smile on his face was almost maniacal, as if he may come unglued should anyone—Elrohir in particular—decide to bother him before said meal. I wondered at this small display, but decided I would either find out at another time—or not. I scarcely cared. There were too many other things to see and think on, other than something that may bother that crazy Elf.
Legolas departed, practically running the last few steps down the hall to 'his' room. My curiosity was being stirred by the Elf that was for sure. Straight across the hall from Legolas' room was where Gimli was to be housed. After he was shown to his room, and promised to be collected for dinner in plenty of time, we continued down the hall, passing several doors, until we finally came to one which Elrohir opened and ushered me into.
"You may wonder why you are several doors away from Legolas and Gimli," Elrohir stated. "Father instructed us in minute detail exactly how he wished you to be looked after while you were living under his roof and in his care. You see, you are now in the family quarters of Imladris. My father's chambers are across the hall, I am next door to the left, and Elladan is next door to the right. Actually, this was once Arwen's room."
I was again gaping, my mouth hanging open so far my gullet was probably visible.
The room was stunning.
"This is to be my room?" I asked in a voice that did not even sound like my own. The bed was larger than my entire bedroom had been in my home in Edoras as I had grown up. I was amazed.
Elrohir laughed. "Yes, Maeren, it is to be your room for as long as you are living here in Imladris. I hope you find it to your liking."
"My liking?" I echoed. "What is not to like?"
The bedroom was something out of a dream. I had never seen anything like it and probably never would again. The bed was huge—there was just no other word for it. The headboard was carved from what I guessed must be rosewood or cherry, given its wonderful red hue. It was massive, yet carved in a leafy design, and with delicate finesse, the result being magnificence in wood. The bed covers were done in a beautiful dusty rose, not lacy or frilly, simply rich and lambent. The floor—which was wood—teak or something like it—was polished where it could be seen peeking from beneath a fabulous rug, which ran almost to the wall in places—where a wall did exist.
It seemed as if one whole wall was not there - the room spilled out onto a veranda, which overlooked the majesty of Imladris. So awed was I by the sight of the valley stretched out before me, that I forgot about the missing wall for the time being, and simply gaped once again.
Touching my arm to gain my attention, Elrohir led me away from the veranda to the opposite side of the room once again. He opened a door and I beheld something I had never beheld before: a genuine bathing room connected to a bedroom. If I did not die from the shock of it all, I would be lucky indeed. Imagine, to come all this way from Minas Tirith, to secret myself away from prying eyes, only to die from the shock of beholding a genuine inside private bathing chamber!
I think Elrohir knew of my shock; his hold on my elbow suddenly tightened. I looked at him and smiled, my eyes suddenly brightening.
"Is this not amazing?" I asked with a gasp. I entered the room, looking about with wonder. There was tile everywhere. Tile! That was something rarely seen! Did I say rarely? I meant to say never seen—by me at least! As I looked around in awe, Elrohir explained all I would need to know about the workings of such a room. There was a free standing wash stand which held a porcelain basin, which he told me, held water changed throughout the day by a handmaiden, who would be in charge of my care throughout my stay. She would also be in charge of having my baths drawn, to my specified temperature, doing my laundry—even bathing me, if I so desired. There was also the chamber pot, for obvious functions, which Elrohir did not spell out, thanks be. And the bathtub! If you could call it by such a name! It did not stand upon the floor, as most bathtubs are apt to do. No, it was sunken—into the floor. It was made of the same tile as the floor and the surrounding walls, and it had a drain in its bottom. It was already full, but the water was tepid—I checked, of course! Elrohir explained something about hot springs and water pipes, but I was so awestruck, I confess I didn't listen closely. I understood him to say that water wasn't carried by Elven hands, it was piped in. I cared not. It was all too fantastic to be believed anyway, why should I find it hard to believe that water could not be piped in steaming hot?
"And that is the tour of your room," Elrohir finished.
"And quite a tour and quite a room it is!" I replied.
Elrohir took my hands in his and looked into my eyes, searching for I know not what.
"You are looking tired," he observed. "I will send in Nivia, who will serve as your handmaiden, and she can help you to freshen up for evening meal, which should be soon, I believe." He bent forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "It is good to see you again. But you must tell me the reason for your delay. I sense there is a story, and I would have it from you, especially if it is at Legolas' expense."
"Oh no, Elrohir," I said. "I have just recently come to some sort of an understanding with Legolas. We are at a friendly truce in our relationship, and I will not jeopardize that just so you may tease him. Count me out of this little prank!"
He heaved a big, exasperated sigh.
"Well you certainly aren't any fun!" he said petulantly. "Oh well, it matters not, I will find out another way. Gimli will tell. He has no such qualms about hanging Legolas out to dry."
"Legolas will tell you himself," I declared. "Why must you make him angry by teasing him?"
"What fun is there in not making him squirm?" Elrohir asked, as if I had gone insane. "What happened that raised his esteem in your eyes?"
"That I can tell you," I replied quickly. "I was attacked and almost devoured by a hungry wolf three nights ago, and Legolas is the only reason I am alive to tell the tale!"
Elrohir's face took on a look of concern as his eyes scanned me quickly again.
"Were you hurt?" he asked. "Why did you not say something about this before?"
"Calm down, Elrohir," I soothed, "I was not hurt—only scared half to death! Legolas killed the wolf and I was saved from the attack. I came to no harm at all. Gimli and Legolas have been working diligently keeping me safe since then; believe me, they have."
"Thank Eru you're safe and well," he declared. "My brother would have been fit to be tied had harm befallen you. The rest of us would not have taken the news of your demise well either, to tell you truthfully."
I laughed thinking of Aragorn all tied up in knots. I would actually like to see the king tied up and unable to move a finger. That would be a sight I would welcome, truth be known.
"Let me find Nivia then," he said again. "She should be here shortly. I will be back to collect you later. Again, it is good to have you at home." He smiled at me once more, gave a quick bow of his head, and left me to gawk at the view of the valley again.
Imagine. An inside private bathing chamber!
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
I waited not long for Nivia to appear, just as Elrohir had promised. She was such a beautiful Elf! But then, I suppose, there was no such thing as an unbeautiful one, simply because one did not exist. What a shame for plain, old me.
She was also as kind as she was beautiful. We spent a small amount of time chatting, getting to know one another on a casual basis. She explained a few things about the customs of the house, and how I was expected to dress for the different occasions throughout the day in Imladris. She opened the huge wardrobe that stood at attention beside the bathing room door, and I found myself gaping again.
"Here we have the beginnings of your attire, Maeren," Nivia explained. "As soon as we received word of your impending arrival, we immediately began work on a wardrobe for you. I am sorry we knew not your favorite colors or fabrics, so if we made any large blunders, we can set them right as soon as we may. Lady Arwen sent your approximate size, so we began from there. Shall we get you into the bathtub and then try something on you for size?"
I am sure I looked as a child might when presented a surprise unexpectedly. Nivia clapped her hands in delight at my reaction.
"Of course!" I replied to her. "Lead the way to the bathing room. I am ready to shuck off these leggings for good! Burn them! Shred them! I care not to see them again! Bring on anything with no waistline! I will love you forever!"
Nivia laughed delightedly again and I joined her. We retired to the bathing room, and after much splashing on my part, so delighted was I to be in warm water with no males to be watching me, that I was happier than I had been in a very long while! I washed and I rinsed and I washed again. Then I rinsed twice more. There was no one to tell me I could not do it, and no one to tell me how impractical it was either. If I was not careful, I could become terribly spoiled in an environment such as this!
As soon as I was finished bathing and splashing, I rose from the tub, and Nivia enveloped me in a huge fluffy towel the likes of which I certainly had never used before. It was so luxurious, I wanted not to leave the comfort of it at all. Forget getting dressed and forget eating supper. I was happy now, cocooned in a fluffy towel, warm and cozy from the bath. Just put me to bed and I was set for the night. However, Nivia would have none of it; she said I was expected downstairs in the dining hall, and no excuse would be good enough for me to miss dining tonight. I whined as I asked her if it would be formal or a long and drawn-out affair, and she assured me it would not be. It was only the family and of course Erestor and Glorfindel and the other two guests along with me. Oh joy. I could hardly wait. For this I had to give up my warm, cozy nest of a towel. Woe is me.
Nivia sat me on a bench at a dressing table before a mirror, and placed a comb in my hand, as she busied herself gathering clothing for me to put on, I suppose. I began pulling the comb through my hair, which was not the horrible trial it had been on our journey, thanks be, due to the wonderful Elven soaps they used for just the purpose of washing one's hair. I was amazed at the ease with which my comb ran through my thick wet hair, but I really had not the time to be all that taken with the wonderful soap. My hair needed drying, and it needed it quickly. It was fast becoming time to be down at the table, and as far as I knew, there was no Elven magic for drying anyone's hair.
I soon had the comb gliding though my hair without any problem areas, and Nivia was ready to help me dress. I ordinarily would have balked at such a thing, but these were Elven dresses, and I certainly knew not if there was a special way in which they were tied or fastened. As soon as I was accustomed to the mode of their dress, I would politely tell Nivia I would not need aid in dressing myself. She helped me into undergarments, and then into a wonderful billowy dress of the palest of pinks. It truly wasn't 'me', really. I had never owned—nor even wished to own—a dress of this type, and could not imagine wearing such a thing on a daily basis. I wondered if I would ever get accustomed to such a thing. I had but glanced into the wardrobe, and it was full of like garments. I suppose one had to take the bad along with the good that came one's way. I could put up with a few filmy dresses—after all, their comfort was divine—for five minutes in that wonderful tub!
There were even new shoes to wear. Well, not shoes, really. They were a type of boot, I suppose. They were clever devices, to be sure. Since they knew not my shoe size, the Elves had devised a 'wrap-around' type of boot. Of course, it had to be worn sparingly outdoors. There really was no sole to be spoken of, but it covered my stockinged foot and for that I was very grateful.
When Nivia was finished with me—and I did not let her have her full way, I must say—I looked not at all like myself—at least to me, I did not. She had insisted on leaving my hair down, but braided, of all things; and pulled and twisted, and knotted very intricately. How she accomplished it so quickly is beyond me, except perhaps by virtue of living for thousands of years and having done it perhaps a million or so times. I almost refused to leave the room. I am not one to put on airs of any kind. However, Nivia kept insisting that this was the custom, and if I did not wish to insult the Elves of the household, I would not change a thing. What could I do then, but go as I was? I wanted not to insult anyone, even if it was almost insulting to myself.
I took a deep breath and frowned at her then. She frowned back at me, but not a frown of anger. It was more a frown of deep hurt, as if her feelings had been trampled by my careless disregard for her efforts. I felt badly about my behavior then. It seems as if it took no time at all for all of the excesses of living to have gone to my head! Here I was, acting as a spoiled brat—and in someone else's home! How rude of me!
"I am sorry, Nivia," I said with genuine regret. "Please excuse my rudeness. I am simply travel weary, that is all. Do forgive me if I seem ungrateful. You have done a beautiful job with me. It is simply that I am unused to seeing myself in this way. It is totally unlike my usual style, and it makes me extremely uneasy. You do understand, do you not?"
Nivia brightened almost instantly, and said, "I do understand, and I can be somewhat overwhelming myself, at times. But I do have my instructions, and it would not go well for me were it to seem that I had not followed them, so I do appreciate your cooperation, Maeren."
"And who, may I ask," I queried, not being able to help the bristling sound that was creeping into my voice, "gives you your orders when they pertain to me, Nivia?"
"The same Elf who controls all household functions," Nivia said brightly. "Erestor does."
Erestor, hmm? I wonder what sort of an Elf this Erestor was going to turn out to be?
Nivia certainly was a wonderful Elf. Beautiful, kind and generous. She reminded me a great deal of Arwen, and that caused me to wonder if all Elves were of somewhat like temperament, but then thoughts of Legolas invaded my mind. I knew they were not all as wonderful as Arwen and Nivia and Elrohir and Elladan. Chances were that I would come up against a few Elves that were not to my liking. Legolas could not be the only one of his kind I would take an instant dislike to. What were the odds of that never happening again?
Elrohir came to collect me at my door, just moments after Nivia had finished with me. I still was unsure about showing my face—especially to the ones who I knew would tease me so much—Legolas and Elrohir, himself. However, here I was already faced with half of my worry and he was not laughing. Surprise showed clearly in his expression, although I was not sure if it was surprise that I could be transformed in such a way, or that I would allow such a thing.
"Are you ready to go down to the dining hall?" he asked as he offered me his arm.
"As ready as I am ever apt to be," I replied with skepticism. I took his arm and bid Nivia farewell, closing the door as I left the room. I felt ridiculous, and very much out of place the way I was garbed and the manner in which my hair was styled. I wished to simply go back to my room and get into the bed and sleep for perhaps a week. That would feel very nice. Maybe by that time, this Erestor character may have forgotten about me and would allow me to dress and have my hair the way I would, and leave Nivia alone about it. I thought about what had just crossed my mind, and I began to feel anger at this Elf I had not even met yet.
Perhaps this Erestor would allow me to dress and have my hair the way I would?
This attitude would never do. No indeed.
We made our way down the stairs and Elrohir guided me onward until we got to a dining hall which was not inordinately huge, to my great relief. When Elrohir kept calling it a hall, I kept envisioning the hall at Meduseld, which I seldom saw, and in which I was never entertained. It was quite a relief when he led me into what was a relatively cozy dining room—even smaller than that in which I was fed when I was entertained by the King and Queen of Gondor.
Just inside the door, I met the Elf who was fated to perhaps become the bane of my existence here in Imladris during the duration of my stay—Erestor.
I knew in an instant that I had met my first unbeautiful Elf. I suppose one could not call him ugly in the strict sense of the word. He was fair, there was no mistake about that. Like all his Elven kinsmen, his skin was as alabaster, his hair shone black like a raven's feathers in the sun. His movements were fluid and graceful, and his bone structure was flawless. But his eyes were cold and his mouth lacked lips. Where lips should have been, there was simply a line. A straight line. A mouth caught in a perpetual non-smile. Neither frowning nor smiling—simply parallel to the ground.
"Erestor," Elrohir said gallantly, "May I introduce to you Lady Maeren, daughter of Maedren of Rohan? Maeren, Erestor, chief advisor to my father."
"My pleasure," I said pleasantly enough.
"To be sure," he replied in like manner.
Legolas and Gimli were already in the room, and by the looks of things, had begun celebrating quite a bit earlier. I was not sure who had imbibed the most, truth be known. They both seemed a bit unsteady of foot, if you can believe such a thing, especially of Legolas. I was very surprised when instead of riots of laughter from the Elf, I received a low appreciative whistle and a bow from the waist.
"I thought perhaps there was a stunning female beneath that tough exterior you usually present, Maeren," Legolas said quietly. It was very unsettling the way he was looking at me. I liked it not at all, and stunning had never been a word I would use in a sentence describing myself.
Gimli frowned at the Elf, shook his head as if trying to clear it of something he disbelieved and then smiled.
"You look lovely, lass," Gimli said, kindly as ever. It was now very apparent who had imbibed the most liquor—and it was not Gimli.
"Thank you, kind sirs," I replied to them both. "I see you have both found time to relax."
"Ah yes," Legolas agreed, "Imladris and relaxation are one and the same."
"Hear, hear!" Gimli cheered quietly, and lifted his glass.
Erestor ushered us all to the table, motioning to Elrohir where to seat me. He then assigned seating to Legolas and Gimli, then seated himself at the head of the table. I supposed that when Elrond was in residence, that would be his station. I hoped it would not take the Elf lord long to reach home. I somehow had a feeling this Erestor and I would not quite be seeing eye to eye on a good number of things, and Elrond's presence would certainly put a leash on Erestor, I would imagine. He seemed much too eager in his position, if anyone cared for my opinion.
There were two empty places at the table. One, I imagined, must be for Elladan. The mare must still be laboring to deliver the foal. I wondered when the process had begun. The other place must be for the Elf Nivia had called Glorfindel, the one I had yet to meet. I could only pray to the Valar that he could be just a bit less irksome that Erestor seemed.
Just as the first course was served, a tall, blond Elf entered the room. He bowed, excused himself for his tardiness, and sat in the vacant chair at the end of the table opposite Erestor.
"Ah," Erestor said, "I see you made it after all. And Elladan? Is he coming as well?"
"No," the Elf answered. "The foal is almost here, but I doubt Elladan is going to make in time to dine with us."
"Oh, forgive me," Erestor said haughtily. "Allow me to introduce to you Lady Maeren, Estel's mistress—"
While I had not at first thought that Erestor could not be deemed stupid, and one could not say he lacked wit, I suppose common sense was what escaped him, in my most humble of opinions, for what he'd just said about me.
Unfortunately, I had been in the process of drinking a sip of wine, and practically choked on it. Thanks be I did not spew it all over Legolas, for he was sitting opposite me!
"Excuse me!" I shouted as I stood. "What did you say?"
Elrohir stood beside me, taking my arm gently, trying to calm me down I am sure. It was not working.
Erestor stammered something, but I gave him no chance to utter the stupid remark again.
"I will have you know, you ridiculous Elf, that I am no such thing!" I exclaimed.
Erestor had apparently regained the use of his voice. He was able to say something before I could continue.
"I simply assumed that since you are with child, and it is his—" He may have regained his voice, but he was still lacking common sense.
"Well you know what they say about people who assume—it makes an ass out of you for presuming such a thing, and one out of me as a result of that presumption!" I was livid. Never mind the lady slur I had listened to yet again. This was the absolute worst thing anyone had yet to say of me, I do believe.
It took me a moment to realize that the tall, blond Elf who had been the cause of the uproar in the first place, had made his way to my side and had taken my hand.
"Forgive Erestor, Lady Maeren," he said as he placed his lips to the back of my hand, "his obtuseness is only outdone by his boorishness. Glorfindel, at your service."
"Tis my pleasure, Glorfindel," I answered quietly. Even though I'd had every right to be angry over Erestor's stupid remarks, I was ashamed by my reaction. Glorfindel saw me seated once again and our meal resumed, with me throwing murderous glances Erestor's way for the rest of the evening.
If looks could kill, he would be one dead Elf.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Much later that night, as I lay in my bed asleep, I dreamed a sweet dream. I was in Imladris in a beautiful bedroom asleep in a beautiful bed, with the full moon's light streaming into the room through a place where there should have been a wall. There was the warmest of breezes, so light and caressing, just enough to be cool, not too much to be chilling. I had on a real nightdress, and the bed had real sheets. I was not in a bedroll upon the hard ground. There was no open fire with the smoke to get in my eyes or to smell up my clothes or my hair.
The night was quiet except for the vague background of Elven singing. I knew not what their words were, but their song was comforting just the same. It was a strange dream, dreaming about dreaming, but it wasn't unpleasant, so I simply kept sleeping.
Then from seemingly nowhere, Elladan was kneeling beside my bed. I was lying on my side, so I could look at his face with no trouble at all. He smiled at me.
"Hello, Mae," he said as he smiled, "I am sorry I wasn't here to greet you earlier."
"How is the mare?" I asked. "How is the foal?"
"They are both doing famously, thank Iluvatar," he replied. "I have had the mare for a very long time. I was not yet ready to part with her. I should never have bred her again."
"As long as it has turned out all right," I said.
"Go back to sleep," Elladan whispered. "I simply wanted to see you before I slept. Good night, Maeren."
I closed my eyes and opened them again. "Good night, Elladan," I replied.
But he'd already gone, and I was awake and no longer dreaming.
Wasn't I?
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o