Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.
I followed my ghostly father's advice and reached a decision that night. I decided that I must set Elladan free of me, once and for all. The trick was in getting the Elf to leave me alone long enough to arrange it.
As I grew more insistent that he desist showing his attentions to me, he grew more insistent in showing me even more attention! He began telling me that he loved me not long after Aragorn's departure, and I kept insisting to him that he did not. I definitely told him that I loved him not, that I was ever only his fondest friend. It made no difference to him—he kept after me—and I kept insisting that I would not go against his father's wishes in his father's house. It was as simple as that. The subject was closed.
The months were going by quickly, much to my despair. The spring thaw was almost upon us, and with that would come time for departure—mine and Leofa's to Gondor, and the Elves from Imladris to set sail. I wished not to be gloomy nor to let sadness overtake my last days with the Elves I held dear, but it was hard to keep tears at bay when I wanted to beg them to stay with me—to never leave me. Then I would think of how selfish I was being. They had been living for centuries without the people they loved most in the entire world. How could I ask them to stay, merely for me?
Our departures were now only a week away and tensions were high in all of us. On this particular evening, I had just retired to my room, after having fed Leofa and spending the evening with the others in the library. I put Leofa down and had wandered out onto the veranda for a breath of fresh air. Elladan was already there; he had apparently come up over the railing as he sometimes did. At least he hadn't frightened me this time, thanks be. There was only so much fright a woman's heart could take in one lifetime.
He made his customary approach, and I made my customary retreat, but as usual, I was in his arms before I knew it, and I was hard pressed not to give in to him tonight. How I wanted him! If he only knew how hard it was for me to resist him, he would have tried just a bit harder. Thank Eru he was not the churlish sort and did not press me when I turned him away. Of course, again tonight it could not be, so I gently nudged myself out of his embrace and walked a short distance away.
"Maeren, why do you push me away?" Elladan asked sadly. I could tell his mood was different tonight. Something was changed, but I knew not what it was.
"I push you away because I must, Elladan," I said in reply. "We've had this conversation before, you know. It always ends the same way."
"I know," he said. "I have hope that one day it will end differently. I love you, Maeren. Why won't you see that?"
"Because I dare not," I said. "Because I will not. Your father—"
"Cease using my father as an excuse!" he interrupted me angrily. "He is not the true reason you will not open your heart to me. You know it deep within yourself."
I turned to look at him, not believing it was Elladan from whom these hurtful words were coming. I walked back toward him and stopped directly in front of him, searching his face for the Elf that I knew. He was hurt—that was the only explanation for his unkind remarks, but that did not take away the sting with which they pierced my heart.
"What is the reason, then?" I asked him quietly. "Tell me, if you see it so clearly."
His wrath softened, but his face was still angry. "You have been hurt badly in your life. First your husband and son were taken from you. Then this business with Estel. You have every right to be afraid, but please don't let your fear keep us apart."
I was incredulous. For once, Dustin had not even crossed my mind. And I did not even feel guilty, truth be known! Elladan was so convinced he was right, though, I wasn't sure he would believe me were I to defend myself with the truth. However, it was high time for him to know the entire truth of it. Our final parting, if I had any say in the matter, was only a few days away.
"All right, Elladan," I said directly. "I will give you the truth. My first and foremost reason is because it is in your father's best interest. I was not but a very casual acquaintance of yours when Aragorn married Arwen, so I really know not your reaction to their marriage and your sister's decision to embrace a mortal life." The expression on Elladan's face showed me that he was unaware I knew the details of his family's 'inheritance' as children of a Peredhil.
I went on with my impassioned speech. "However, shortly after I disclosed my condition to Aragorn, and then Arwen, your father berated me in a most beastly fashion, letting me know how much he did not appreciate my part in deceiving his daughter—especially when there was still time for her to forego her union to the mortal. He apologized in short order and explained all in great detail. Elladan, you saw not his face, nor did you hear his anguished words when he spoke of leaving a part of himself here, when he went to The Undying lands to be with your mother. I am sorry, but it is not in my heart, as a woman, as a parent—as a human being—to put him through that again, because of something I have control over. I will not do it, Elladan; I will not."
I took a deep breath and continued. "In the second place, and of equal importance, is the fact that I am mortal and you are an Elf. In just a few years I will begin to age; my hair will grow silver and coarse; my face will wrinkle; my body will bend and sag. There will come a time when Leofa will look older than you do, Elladan. Think about that. Will you still wish to take me to your bed—an old, wrinkled woman whose skin is too thin and whose breasts sag to her waist? Will I have to watch you grow distant and know that you leave me at night to go to the ageless Elves who can hold you in the beauty you wish for, but gave up to be with a mortal?"
Elladan had turned away from me and now stood at the railing, his head hanging, his chin resting on his chest. I went to him and placed my hands on his arms, turning him around to face me. The tears that he wept didn't surprise me. They matched the ones I was weeping.
"And what about you, Elladan?" I continued.
"Say no more," he pleaded with me, whispering. But I would have none of it. He had asked me repeatedly why I withdrew from him. I was finally going to tell him what he asked me to say. What he desperately did not want to hear.
"You would have to watch as I grew older. It would pain you to see it, I know that it would. You love me, I know you do—of that I have no doubt. But it would be too painful, do you not think so? And death would part us, Elladan. Why would you purposely do such a thing to yourself when it is not necessary? Why do you not leave me be and go with your father to The Undying Lands? Find yourself a wonderful and beautiful Elven woman to love forever. That is how it is meant to be. You know this. Why do you not do this?" My voice trailed off with the tremor of tears.
"I cannot do it because it is too late, Maeren!" he wept. "I love you, not some Elven woman. Yes, all the things you are saying are true—it will all be painful. But if you think that this is not painful, then you simply are not paying attention." He lifted a hand to his eyes, I suppose to hide his tears from me. My heart broke. I hugged him to me; I could not help myself. He withdrew from me and walked to another part of the railing, his back to me once again. But he was not finished with his questions of me. He turned to face me once again.
"And if I go to The Undying Lands, Maeren, as you request," Elladan said, his voice tremulous, his blue eyes swimming, "what am I supposed to do about having a son of my own? What if I should want to become a father, Maeren? That is something I will never be if I sail. Is that your wish for me? That I never be a parent? That I never know the same type of fierce love you feel for Leofa? Even were I to find an Elven woman whose touch I could bear, she would not conceive a child with me. Elves care not for such trivialities as young ones any longer, Maeren. And you forget—I am but half Elf—the other half is Human. That part of me longs for what all Humans long for—home and family. Should I go to the Undying Lands, I never will know that. Is that your wish for me?"
I had honestly never given his last argument a thought. As much as he doted on Leofa, all the Elves doted on the baby. I hadn't realized Elladan's feelings went deeper than that. Yet I knew what I had to say to him. It still did not change the basic facts.
"I am sorry, Elladan," I said resolutely. "I cannot betray your father. I simply cannot."
He rolled his tortured eyes and turned around, apparently finished trying to reason with me, since I was being unreasonable, it seemed.
"Even if your father did not figure into this," I said to his back, "I cannot doom you to death, when there is no need of it—not when you can sail the sea with your father and Elrohir, and reunite with your mother; live the rest of your life in peace with them. It will be a wonderful life, Elladan. Just think of it!" He again turned to face me.
"Yes," he said as if disgusted, "so wonderful!" His sarcasm pierced my heart. I could see the last vestiges of hurt drain from his face, being replaced instead by the less vulnerable emotion of anger. "Elrohir is not going with father now, nor has he committed to sailing at all. I would be lying if I told you I did not long to see my mother again—I do miss her—but she would understand my absence, just as she will understand Arwen's absence. I have no doubt of that. But if nobility is what gets you through your life, then so be it, Maeren. I am finished beating my head against the wall of your stubbornness. I will go with my father to The Undying Lands, but he will get no joy from it. I will remind him night and day of what he has forced me to lose." He paused for a moment, looking at me with the hurt and anger I hated seeing in his eyes. "I will see you before we leave, but not before. I cannot bear to be in your presence any longer."
And with that he stormed from the veranda and left the room, slamming the door. Leofa woke with a start and a scream, wailing into the night with the terror of the sudden explosion that had rocked his dreams. I was left staring off into the night sky at the millions of stars glittering there with false cheerfulness, while tears streamed down my face.
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The day was finally upon us.
I woke up weeping, but I was determined I would not be a source of torment for the Elves I loved so dearly. I briefly nursed my infant, and then I dressed my baby and myself. In preparation for this journey I had taken the liberty some weeks back, of having new shirts and tunics and leggings sewn and fitted for me. I kept the fact in mind while I designed them, that I still nursed my baby, so I had them made accordingly with over bibs—quite clever on my part, I might add, if I would not be thought too boastful in the saying of it.
I combed and knotted my hair and dabbed at my eyes, making sure all traces of the tears and their tracks were gone from my face. I would not weep another tear while in the presence of those departing for The Undying Lands. I had promised myself this as a solemn vow, and I meant not to break it. The Elves had sorrow enough in their hearts; I would not add to it.
Elves came for the rest of the things that would go with Leofa and me on our journey to Gondor. They took Leofa's cradle and some bags I had packed with a few of the clothes hanging in the wardrobe or that had been taken from the chest in the bathing room. Most of the clothing I left where it was—I had used it when I had been large with Leofa, and it no longer fit me. There would be a wagon along, and it would carry bulkier items that seemed to trail in my wake wherever I went. Holding Leofa, I took one last look over the now emptier room. I almost shook with tears; holding them at bay was taking great strength.
Leofa was certainly cheerful this morning! I wandered out to the veranda holding my son and watching the sun peek over the crest of the mountains. The serene sight of the valley calmed me as I hoped that it would. Leofa squealed with delight as a swallow swooped through the air a few feet away. At the bird's sudden appearance, he waved his arms, and attempted to clap his hands—he almost had that motion down! I laughed, and he looked at me with his smile—his top teeth peeked out at me, their pearliness bright against the tiny pink gums. He clapped his wet fingers upon my cheeks, and even clammy as they were, I delighted in their feel upon my face. I cooed to my son, and he laughed at me then. I hugged him to me and kissed his baby-fat neck, which he scrunched between his shoulder and head, as he tried to keep me from tickling him with the bone of my chin, as I so liked to do.
He settled himself down upon my shoulder, seeming to sense my melancholy mood at last. I sighed and turned away from the scenic beauty of the Rivendell dawn and made my way down the stairs. I walked to the back of the house, taking my son and myself to the stables where the others gathered, to be off on our separate journeys.
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The courtyard around the stable was bustling with activity. There were two separate camps, it seemed: those headed out with me, and those going with Elrond to the Grey Havens, and ultimately, to The Undying Lands. Elrond was, along with Glorfindel, overseeing all the details concerning the trip he was undertaking, so he did not see me arrive. I was afforded the opportunity to simply gaze at him—drink in the sight of him for one last time.
He was dressed as he had been when he arrived back in Imladris when he was returning from Gondor—looking as he had in his warrior days. His hair was braided in the humbler fashion of the others in his party, and he wore the simpler garb of the others as well. I could see his mind was on his business, making sure he had all he wanted with him for all time. He would not be returning here ever again, and he was ensuring he left nothing of import behind.
Elrohir was heading up our party, and was likewise seeing to all our provisions and traveling supplies. I knew his heart had to be breaking inside his chest. His father and his twin were both leaving today, and he was staying behind—at least for now. As far as I knew, he had not completely ruled out sailing west; he was waiting at least until Arwen and Aragorn had passed on until he made the journey—if he made the journey at all. Only time would tell whether he would ultimately join them, but for now, Elrohir felt the pain I was feeling—only doubly or triply so.
And then there was Elladan. He was readying his mare for the journey. His face was set as if it was stone; his eyes were glittering as ice—very cold, yet threatening to thaw at any minute. True to his word, he'd not seen nor spoken to me since that dreadful night on my veranda, and my heart still ached from his words.
I had sought Elrond out the following day, seeking not only guidance after the debacle of my conversation with his son, but also needing solace and counsel; that I had done the right thing. I told the Elf lord of Elladan's words—of his professed love for me; of how he said it was too late for him to fall in love with an Elven woman, for he loved me too well already. I hesitated but a moment over whether to impart the news to his father that Elladan wanted children; but then, I decided that if Elladan must hurt for his father's feelings, then the same should apply to the father. I could tell Elrond had never entertained the idea—as I had not—that Elladan would have given much thought to having children of his own. But when Elrond learned that his son had not only given them thought, but wanted them desperately, I could see that it struck him to the core—just as it had me.
Suddenly Haldan was upon me, in full healer mode and whisked Leofa from me, perusing him closely for any hidden ill. He sat the baby on the back of the wagon, holding him securely around his small waist and looked deeply into his eyes. Leofa stared back at him, as if in a trance, and then suddenly smiled his two-toothy smile, and Haldan beamed his angelic one. He picked Leofa up from the wagon and placed him on one hip.
"A fitter child there is not—upon the face of Middle Earth!" the healer declared, as he turned to me. He then asked, "Have you the supply of herbs I packed for you? And the minerals?"
I laughed. "Yes, Haldan, I do! I suppose Leofa will be sixteen before I will use them all up!"
"That is good," Haldan said with a smile. "And I told you how to store them, so they will always stay fresh?"
"You did," I replied, "at least six times."
"Oh, very efficient of me!" Haldan declared. "I am glad I have not shirked my duty." I laughed again.
"Now it is your turn," Haldan said, looking into my eyes with mock seriousness. "Yes," he said, his brows drawn together, "the plague you've been carrying is still with you, I see. However, the cure I prescribe for you is fraught with peril—at least to your eyes, it probably is. Walk with me," he commanded, seemingly serious all at once. He lowered his voice, even though we were probably out of earshot of most of the Elves; and besides, they were much too busy to be paying us any attention anyway.
"The cure I prescribe for sweet Maeren is this," Haldan said, as he stopped to face me. "She needs to find a kind, gentle man, and settle down with him. She needs to lower those walls with which she protects that poor, battered heart of hers, and allow him to love her, so that she can allow herself to love him back. And then, she will be whole again and will no longer feel so alone in the world. Trust Haldan the healer of Imladris, Maeren. He was once told about this by one who is very wise."
I gave Haldan a skeptical look. "And this will cure what ails me?" I asked him. "Just who is this very wise one?"
"It will cure what ails you, and I cannot reveal that secret at this time," Haldan replied.
"I will have no other time in which to get the answer to the secret," I retorted, trying a bit of browbeating to get my way. It didn't work.
"Rules are rules," Haldan told me. "I cannot reveal my sources, until the time is right. Sorry."
"You are only jesting, that is why you cannot name the wise one," I rebuked him. "Because there is no wise one."
At that very moment, Elrond called everyone to attention. It was time. I had been successfully distracted, and it was now time for us all to depart. We made our way back to the others, and Haldan stopped beside Dori. I would ride my faithful Rohirric mare again. I had begun riding her several weeks ago, in preparation for the journey—so as not to be quite so sore from the saddle this time. I would have Leofa strapped to me in a special-made harness constructed of strong serge and lined with a very soft silk. It was very snug, not only for warmth, but to keep his head and neck from jarring about so badly. Depending on his mood, he could sit up and face outward—and watch the passing scenery, or inward—toward me, where he could be cuddled or sleep against my shoulder . I could also rework it so that he could be laying down. It was very lightweight. It was simply made of cloth. Leave it to the Elves to invent something to ease my life.
Elrond joined us, and he lifted Leofa away from Haldan. He walked a short distance away from the group of us all and was speaking to the child. What he said, I know not, but he was smiling, and I could hear the sing-song voice he always used when he played with my son. Leofa, for his part, was delighted—as he always was to go to his grandfather. He would be bewildered when he realized that Elrond would not be coming to play with him any longer. I was glad my son was only a small baby, and the hurt would be less and short-lived.
Elrond did not keep Leofa long and within only a few minutes, he was back, settling my son once again within my arms. The Elf lord's eyes were bright, but he shed no tears. He was in full warrior mode right now—emotions did not figure into this picture—almost. He came and stood before me, his visage unreadable. Suddenly I saw his heart in his eyes—he blinked and swallowed and smiled—a grimace almost—and then he was once more under supreme control. I swore to myself not to let him down, and I steeled my heart.
"Have a safe journey," he said, "and a wonderful life. Know that you are forever in my heart and in my thoughts, and that I will love you forever." He bent and kissed my brow and moved to the person next to me.
Haldan was in front of me now, to bid me farewell. He smiled sweetly, but the healer was still in evidence.
"Remember the curative I left with you," he advised. "Please do not forget the ingredients, nor the exact dosage, for all parts are important to your cure. I love you sweet Maeren and would see you well. Farewell, my lady, keep well and keep the King on his toes in regards to this child. I have no doubt that you will."
"See to yourself as well, young man," I told him, my healer emerging as well. "I hope you are not inclined toward seasickness, but if you are, I believe a bit of peppermint tea may be in order to settle the stomach, would you not agree?"
Haldan laughed heartily. "Indeed I do believe that tea may come in handy, but for Elrond and the other—I will not be needing any." I laughed at his bravado—land-stranded Haldan? I would believe that when I was told of it! He hugged me tightly, tweaked Leofa's nose gently, and then proceeded to the person next to me, as Elrond had.
I gasped slightly, for Elladan was now before me. Elladan, with his face still of stone and his ice bright eyes. He hardly spared me a glance at first, he went directly for Leofa. He held out his hands toward the child, who smiled brightly and leaned toward his 'uncle', eager to be held by this favorite person of his. Elladan, like his father before him, took the baby a short distance away and began chatting with him. However, unlike his father, he could not keep his voice bright and cheerful. He suddenly buried his face in Leofa's shoulder, trying to regain the composure that had fled him. Leofa was delighted with this turn of events. He had free rein over this Elf's wonderful hair! Since the child spent every waking minute with his hands in his mouth, considering he was teething, his fists were drenched and slimy, so the result was less than pleasant. Elladan did not notice until he went to lift Leofa away from him and give him back to me. The baby's hands were snarled in Elladan's hair, so I had to help untangle the long silken strands; it gave me a chance to speak with him.
"Elladan," I said softly, so hopefully no one would overhear, "I meant not to hurt you. I hope you forgive me one day. I will ever hold a place in my heart for you. I hope you know that."
"If only that place in your heart held love for me Maeren," he said, "I would be a very happy Elf."
"There," I said as I got the final strand of the dark hair unwound from my son's fingers. I ignored Elladan's remark; I could not tell him that it did hold love for him—just not the deep abiding love it would take to match his own for me.
Elladan enveloped both me and Leofa into his arms then, embracing us both with love I could feel as if it were a living, breathing thing. He pulled back and looked at the baby, who looked back at him with interested eyes. I laughed through the tears I swore I would not shed.
"You had better take care of your mother," he said, "or you will have me to answer to—somehow." Leofa laughed and tried to clap his hands again. Elladan laughed, then bent and kissed my lips one last time and moved on. There was nothing more to say.
And on and on the farewells went, until all had been told goodbye.
Elrond gave the order for all to mount up, or otherwise take their places on wagon seats, so all did as they had been directed. I watched the Lord of Imladris from my seat atop Dori and saw him cast his last gaze around the land he'd called home for thousands of years. He did not dwell long upon it and as quickly as he might, he threw his hand in the air, motioning for his group to be off and on their way to their destination. Elrohir did likewise, and we all kicked our mounts up to a soft canter. As soon as all riders and wagons were out of the gates and into the open, Elrond and Elladan on one side, and Elrohir on the other, reined in their horses and waited for their respective groups to thunder past them. I admit, out of curiosity, I reined Dori in and lagged back, wanting to see what they were going to do—and preparing to pick up the pieces of the Elf left in my camp while I was about it.
The three Elves looked at one another briefly and smiled, placing their hands over their hearts, then gestured outwards in an Elven show of great respect. Elrohir let out a warrior's cry, then caused his horse to rear, and his father and twin echoed his actions. All three then rode away from each other, and I kicked Dori up into a gallop before Elrohir could become aware I had been watching.
I was back with our set well before the Elf caught up with us. He rode to the front of the group, which was not a large one, incidentally—numbering twelve individuals, counting Elrohir and me—plus two Elves driving a wagon. I stayed where I was, toward the middle, letting him stay focused on being the leader. I would not help him with my presence right now, that was for certain. The time would come later when his defenses would come down, and his pain would be raw. I would be much more help then, of that I felt sure.
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This first day was uneventful, and I was certainly glad I had Leofa to keep me occupied. Every time my thoughts would stray to Elrond or Haldan or Elladan, Leofa would either laugh or cry or somehow garner my attention, and my thoughts would be brought back to the here and now. I wondered if my ghostly father was still at work? Distracting me seemed the sort of thing he may have had a hand in.
However, the first night was not uneventful—would that I wish it had been. Our fearless leader felt the need to celebrate our first night in the wilderness and pulled out three bottles of wine, which he commenced to downing all alone. My attempts to talk him out of it were in vain, and in fact he gave me a piece of his mind—two or three pieces of it, actually. I only wish he'd not shared it with the entire camp, but that is neither here nor there any longer; water under the bridge; a done deal; all the old clichés.
"Elrohir," I crooned, trying to sweet-talk the second, almost empty bottle from his grip. I knew we'd not get far tomorrow with our leader suffering the nausea and painful head that accompanies too much alcohol consumption, so I had been trying very hard to slow his drinking down. "Could I have some of this, or do you refuse to share?"
"Oh, sure thing," he slurred, "go ahead and take my wine. You took my brother, why not my drink as well?"
"You silly Elf," I laughed, "whatever are you talking about?" I knew good and well what he was talking about, but I could not believe it was what he meant. I should have known better than to argue with one drunken, but I was not thinking, apparently.
"Elladan," he said, not so quietly. "You know—my brother? The one who looks just like me? The one who swore his love to you, and you told him to go to The Undying Lands? That brother of mine."
"Elrohir," I whispered, "please speak not so loudly."
"Why not, Maeren?" he asked, even as he raised his voice. "These Elves can hear you even do you whisper! And why must you whisper? Surely it does not shame you that my brother loved you? He was worthy of your love, was he not?"
I could not help myself, my anger was rising, even though I knew the futility of arguing with one under the influence of too much wine.
"Perhaps it was the other way around, Elrohir!" I admonished him, "And besides, the last I heard, it was you encouraging me to dissuade him from doing just that, lest he break his father's heart!"
Elrohir's face fell. "Oh, that is right," Elrohir said, his mood suddenly saddening. He was well and truly drunk. "I had forgotten about poor, poor Father." He began to sniff. The dear Elf was near to weeping. A drunken Elf on a crying jag—just my luck.
"Well, you needn't feel badly for him, for your brother is with him," I foolishly said.
"Yes!" Elrohir shouted. "And that is all your fault! You and your sultry ways. Those big, brown eyes! You bewitched him! He told me you did!"
"I am no witch, Elrohir," I protested quietly. "It was just a figure of speech he was using. Please, just lie down on your bedroll and give me the bottle. You need to sleep so you can lead us tomorrow." I again grabbed for the neck of the wine bottle, but he held it at arm's length away from me.
"Why did you tell him to go?" Elrohir asked me, nearly in tears. "He was going to come with us to Gondor. He was going to stay with me in Imladris until Arwen and Estel—till they were gone. I hate you right now, Maeren. I hate you so much it hurts." He did lie down on his bedroll then, and buried his face in his blanket. His body was wracked with sobs. I sat down next to him, wanting to comfort him. I placed my hand on his back, but he twisted himself quickly and grabbed my wrist, nearly pulling me down on top of him.
"Oh, I am sorry, dear Maeren," he said loudly, but with contrition, his speech slurring badly. "I do not really hate you. I am just so completely bereft. I know not what I am saying at all any more."
"It is all right, Elrohir," I said to him sweetly. "It is just the wine speaking. Men often say things they don't mean when it clouds their minds like it has clouded yours."
"Call me not a man!" the Elf exclaimed, echoing something Elladan had said to me once and sounding almost exactly as he had that time. "It makes my guts hurt when you say such a thing."
"My poor, sick Elf," I said wryly, "tis not the vile name that has your guts in a knot. It's too much wine that's done that to you, I'm afraid."
"Ai! Elladan always stopped me afore I took in too much—I had headaches aplenty, but never that vile retching. Oh Maeren, think you I might retch? I've never done such before. I fear it may kill me—my stomach feels like it wants to slide up my gullet and fall out of my mouth." He flopped over onto his back and breathed a huge, heavy sigh, typical of one not far from heaving.
How had this Elf gotten through almost four thousand years without retching even one time in his immortal life?
Elrohir groaned, and I knew it would be not long before his stomach would empty whether he was ready or not. I forced him to rise—I was lucky he was an Elf and lighter than he looked—and, pausing to grab his water skin which was laying to one side, I started walking him unsteadily into the trees, so that he may not disturb the others any more than he already had.
"Maeren," he slurred, "I love you."
"Oh not you, too!" I declared.
"No, no, no," he echoed over and over. "Not that way. I mean I love you. You are very kind and sweet, and you help people—oh Eru, I feel nasty!" And with that, he bent at the waist and retched for the first time in his long life.
And he did not die.
I held his hair back so that it wouldn't be fouled and when he was finished, I handed him his water skin. He frowned at me in confusion, as he stood there swaying slightly, so I explained that he should rinse his mouth. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in enlightenment at last, so he followed my directions. As soon as he was finished, I took the water skin from him, and headed back toward camp, but realized quickly that he wasn't following me—he was headed in the opposite direction.
"Elrohir," I called, "where are you going? The camp's this way."
"I know that dear, dear, Maeren," his disembodied voice said, as if humoring a small child, from somewhere in the trees, "but I wish to sit by the river for a spell. I will be there shortly."
I looked to the sky, wanting divine guidance I suppose—or perhaps a lightning bolt to end my pitiful life—I was so tired—but I began to follow him. I could not take the chance that the graceful, inebriated Elf may trip and fall into the Bruinen and find himself washed up Eru knew where in the morning.
I found him just a few minutes later, sprawled out on the incline of the bank well away from the river's edge. He was laying on his back, one of his arms flung over his eyes, as if to block out the light from the stars that might be too bright and causing pain in his head. Calling to him softly, I checked to make sure he was not completely unconscious.
"El-ro-hir—" I used my sing-song mother's voice.
"Wh-at—?" he answered me the same way.
I giggled at our silliness. "Nothing. I was simply checking to see if you were still among the living. After all, you did say you thought that retching was going to kill you."
"Do not remind me of what just happened to me!" he said as if he would die of embarrassment, or from the mere idea of something putrid having befallen him. "Never speak of it and me in the same sentence again, if you please. On second thought, never speak of it to me again, whether I am directly involved or not."
I laughed and lay down on my side with my head propped up on my elbow.
"I truly am sorry I told Elladan to go to The Undying Lands, Elrohir," I began, "but I certainly don't have that much influence over him that he would do it simply because I voiced an opinion. Tell me that you believe what I just said."
"I don't know anything where Elladan is concerned anymore," Elrohir said sadly. "I never believed he would part from me for any reason. I just knew that when it came down to it this morning, he would change his mind and come with us to Gondor. I called his bluff, but he was not bluffing this time." He put his arm back over his eyes, and we said no more. Since he was much more sober now, I decided he would be fine, so I rose to leave. Before I could take a step, Elrohir grabbed my ankle gently.
"Maeren," he said, "please forgive all the drunken tripe I may have uttered. I do not blame you, nor are you to blame. Elladan has a mind of his own, and it is high time I accepted that. He made a different choice for his own reasons—none of which are your fault. I know that. I do. Thank you for being such a good friend to me and listening to me even when I was being unkind to you."
"What good are friends if we cannot count on them to see us through our hard times, Elrohir?" I asked him sincerely. "You have seen me through a couple of mine, and they were not pretty either. I appreciate you very much, and I do not think I have ever told you that. Now, will you be fine here, or are you ready to go back?"
"I am ready to go back," he said wanly.
I helped the tired and staggering Elf to his feet, and together we made it up the slight incline of the bank and back to the camp. I left him to get into his bedroll, and I sat down on mine while I checked on Leofa. The baby was sleeping soundly. He'd had a big day. He had risen early and ridden all day long—something he had never done before—and he had seen all sorts of new things. He had seen his first campfire and heard all the Elves sing and tell stories around it while I nursed him to sleep. I lay myself down finally, beside my small son. A few minutes later I was aware of someone dragging their bedroll over toward Leofa and me.
It was Elrohir. He was lonely.
But then, why wouldn't he be? He'd never been so alone in all of his life. Over three thousand years with his twin at his side, and tonight they were miles and miles apart—and tomorrow would only see the gap grow wider.
Elrohir put his bedroll down a few feet away, but I motioned him closer.
"Are you sure?" he asked me. "I want not to crowd you."
"It's no bother," I said. "I could use the warmth, truth be known. It's still a bit chilly at this time of year, but then you being an Elf, you probably don't notice that sort of thing."
As soon as he thought he'd be doing me a favor, he snuggled right up to me, and we slept back to back. I hoped that it helped him—gave him comfort on some level. I was not his twin, but I was a person, and I was alive and breathing. Hopefully, that counted for something.
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