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Lady of Legolas- No, not yet.

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Return to Valinor

By: DLR 2003

Elrond/OFC

Chapter Two

The Gardens of Lórien

Irmo regarded Elrond with an interested gaze.  "Tell me, the gift of visions, of second sight; was it a blessing or a curse?"

A small smile curved Elrond's lips.  "Both.  But very useful, all the same, I would not have wished it away.  Thank you for not giving me foresight through dreams, I find dream interpretation to be confusing and unreliable."

"You are welcome," said Irmo, smiling.  "Tis not a gift I give often, and I spend much time choosing the recipient.  It pleases me to know I made the right choice for you."  He paused for a moment.  "Also, I would very much like to ask . . ."

"Hush yourself," Estë chided her spouse as she entered the room.  "He is here to rest, not to be interrogated.  He is weary of questions, let him be."

Irmo received his wife's reprimand with a chuckle.  "We will continue this conversation another time," he whispered in an aside to Elrond, who flashed him a resigned smile.  "Rest now, heal."  He gave Elrond a wink as he walked away.

Estë regarded her husband with bemused eyes before she turned back to Elrond.  "You are ready to continue the session?"  He nodded.  "Very well, disrobe please and lie down in the bath."  She gave him a drink from the fountain of Lórien as he complied with her instructions.

Elrond lay back in the warm water and closed his eyes.  The power of the Lady in Grey washed over him as he sank into blissful relaxation.  Her aura covered him completely although her physical body made no contact.  He sighed with pleasure as her essence penetrated the dark corners of his mind and soul, soothing and comforting.  He slept the bottomless slumber that was necessary to cure the unrest of Middle-earth, falling deep into an unfathomable abyss of tranquility.

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"You will not walk with me?" Culurien asked, surprised.

"Nay, not at this time," responded Elrond, shaking his head.  "I am quite busy."

She stared at him nonplussed.  "Busy?"

"Indeed," he said with a sly smile dimpling his cheeks.  "I am very, very busy watching the grass grow."  He looked up at her from his reclining position on the hillside and reached a hand beneath her sheer gown to stroke her leg.

"Come down here and watch it with me," he said with a seductive glint in his eye.

She fell across his prone figure with a giggle as he raised his arms to welcome her into his embrace.  They wrestled together happily in the sweet grass for a short while until Elrond's hands moved under her loose gown and changed their mood from playful to passionate.

He wore a thin comfortable tunic as well and nothing else, not even shoes.  In Lórien clothing mattered not during the warm season, in fact many went without it entirely.  Public displays of affection were also common, with very little of the inhibitions that prevailed in Middle-earth. 

They were soon oblivious to all else but their own desires as hunger peaked and became ecstasy, waning only to peak again with more intensity as they moved against each other, hands and lips caressing sensitive areas.  Elrond finally groaned and spent his passion in a heated rush as Culurien sighed with satisfaction, knowing deep inside herself, at that precise moment, that her healing was complete.  He contentedly nestled his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder as his breath slowed and his body cooled.

"Mellhîr," she whispered.

"Mmmm?"

"I think perhaps we should be married soon."

He looked into her eyes and he knew it as well, that this time was different.  "Perhaps you are right," he murmured, smiling.

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"Master Elrond!"

"Frodo Baggins!" Elrond responded with a smile.  "How goes it with you?  Tis a welcome sight, that sparkle in your eye!"

"It goes well indeed," said Frodo, grinning.  "My heart feels much lighter and it has only been a short time yet."  He turned his eyes to his companion who sat across from him at the small table, with a game piece poised in his hand.  "Do not bother, I have you bested," Frodo said with a smug smile.

"Ah, ah," protested the silver-haired elf.  "I have not completed my move yet.  Do not be so hasty, my dear Frodo."  His bright blue eyes twinkled merrily as he lifted them to regard Elrond, who inclined his head.  "Your servant, Lord," Elrond began, and then hesitated as recognition washed over him.

"Mithrandir?" he whispered with wide eyes.

The other one chuckled.  "Olórin, actually, but indeed yes, Mithrandir I once was."

Elrond snorted.  "It is getting so you have more names than Aragorn."  He studied the face of the Maia before him, his old friend of Middle-earth.  Great age was apparent, yet not so, in his visage, which had a decidedly youthful aspect.

"There!" exclaimed Frodo, "It is as I said, you are beaten."

Olórin looked at the board with narrowed eyes.  "Remind me not to spot you any more pieces in the future," he muttered.  "Now be off with you, Bilbo is waiting."  His smile followed Frodo as the young one departed to join his elder. 

He raised his eyebrows at Elrond.  "A game from you, Master Peredhil?"

"Indeed," murmured Elrond, taking the seat left vacant by the hobbit.  "Quite like old times."  He smiled slightly.  "Although I should hope that here in Aman you will not try to cheat anymore."

Olórin was offended.  "Cheat?  I do not cheat.  I simply adapt certain aspects . . ."

"You cheat," stated Elrond.  "One does not 'adapt' anything within the confines of the game."

"I have merely evened the odds in the past so as to give you a better challenge," Olórin explained.  "You would not want to win every time, would you?"

"Nay," said Elrond warily.  "But just because you have the power to manipulate the outcome, it does not mean that you should."

Olórin became curt. "Have you a desire to play or not?"

Elrond sighed and smiled at the same time.  "No cheating," he reaffirmed.

"I would not dream of it," said Olórin innocently.

"Hrumph," snorted Elrond.  "Pray, just reset the board, will you?"  A silence ensued as the game pieces were restored.

Olórin arched an eyebrow at his old friend.  "Tell me how your healing has progressed."

Elrond smiled.  "It has gone well, the weariness has nearly dissipated."

Olórin moved a game piece, his eyes on the board.  "And the anger?  Is that gone as well?"

Elrond stiffened and looked up from the game.  "What do you know of this?"

Olórin raised his eyes as well, meeting Elrond's gaze.  "I have followed the trials and tribulations of your life from the very beginning, Mellon-iaur.  There is naught that has escaped my notice."

Elrond was perplexed. "But why?"

"The judgment of the Valar upon Eärendil I thought extreme," said Olórin.  "Tragic, in fact.  I was interested what would become of you and Elros and how the Valar would judge you in turn, you also being of mixed blood."

He moved a piece across the board, while Elrond sat subdued, digesting this information.  "And then, there were those unusual, so very unelvish tragedies in your life as well, the abuse you suffered, and the dissolution of your marriage."

Elrond closed his eyes as long dormant emotions came rapidly to the forefront of his consciousness.  His mind slipped quickly into darkness and he moaned as he unwillingly began to relive the painful memories.

Olórin laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him.  "Be calm," he said soothingly.  "Wake from this disagreeable dream."

Elrond shuddered and opened his eyes, passing a hand over his face.  "It still overwhelms me at times."

Olórin smiled. "That is what we are here to remedy."

Elrond arched an eyebrow.  "So you also number Hîrnested among your titles?"

"Nay," said Olórin, amused.  "I merely help out a little from time to time."

Elrond turned pained eyes to him.  "I wish to be helped."

Olórin winked a bright blue eye and Gandalf shone through for a second.  "We will talk, my dear Elrond, we will talk until you are deaf with it," he promised.

Elrond sighed.  "Perhaps that is what worries me," he said as he moved a figurine, a small smile playing around his lips.  "And the game is mine, by the way."

Olórin immediately dropped his benevolent expression and his eyebrows came together in a scowl.

Elrond laughed.  "Ah, there is the Mithrandir I once knew."

Olórin muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"If you think I have no knowledge of Dunlending, you are mistaken," remarked Elrond, keeping his temper.  "That was most unkind of you."

Olórin snorted and continued to peer at the game board.

"Shall I show you where you faltered?" asked Elrond, greatly amused.  "I would have thought you knew all of my tricks by now.  Or perhaps a new game?"

"Nay," said Olórin quickly, packing the pieces away with haste.  "This game will be my penance in Mandos, I am certain."

"What is the difference?" asked Elrond, barely able to contain himself.  "Whether you are soundly beaten here or there?"

The dark look Olórin gave him was eloquent in its silence.  Elrond sighed, smiling.  Once a grumpy wizard, always a grumpy wizard.     

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He tightened his grip around her waist as though he thought she might be taken from him, snatched out of his arms suddenly, without warning.

She responded by melting into his body, molding every inch of herself to him firmly.

The movement of the swing was as tranquillizing as the garden it sat in, the motion of his foot barely discernable as he rocked it back and forth, quietly, peacefully.

She shifted her position in his lap slightly, her arm encircling his neck as she buried her face in his raven black hair. She inhaled deeply, comforted by his scent.  "You are far from finished here."

"Indeed."  His hand moved to absently stroke her abdomen through the thin gown she wore.

She smiled. "I can feel something already, tiny movements like the brush of a butterfly's wing."

"Can you?" he whispered, splaying his long fingers firmly across her stomach.  "I wish that I could as well."

"The time will come when you can," she murmured, "all too soon."

Elrond sighed and continued his soft caress.

"Do you think I will be allowed to stay here with you until the completion of your healing?" Culurien asked, worried.

"If you cannot, then neither will I," he responded.  "I will not be parted from you."

Her arms tightened around his neck and her lips brushed softly against his cheek.  "I am so very happy right now that it frightens me," she whispered into his ear.

"The mere thought of separation sends chills of terror through me," he agreed.  He lifted his head and turned her face to his with a finger under her chin.  "There is something, though, that I must do which you cannot help me with."  Culurien was silent.  "I must see Celebrían," Elrond explained.  "I must tell her about Arwen."

"Surely Galadriel has done that already," she protested.

"That is likely," he agreed, "but she must hear it from me as well.  Also, Manwë hinted she has something to tell me in turn."

Culurien stroked his cheek.  "This will be painful for you; I know you loved her very much."

"At one time, yes." Elrond sighed.  "There is still part of me that loves her dearly, but do not fret, I am no longer in love with her, my heart belongs solely to a lady with hair of golden red."

"Anyone I know?" she jested and he laughed as they settled comfortably on the swing once more, gently swaying back and forth in the warm breeze.

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