The Counsel of Lord Elrond
Eloessa's brothers appeared to have been alerted to the coming of Celeborn. Celemedril stood at attention, his face pale but composed. Eomeril had put his hood back up.
Celeborn approached his foster sons with measured tread. He stopped only inches away. No one spoke for several moments.
Then Celeborn said simply, "Eomeril," and waited.
After a long moment Eomeril swept the hood back from his face, throwing his head up in defiance. Celemedril drew near to his brother in silent support.
Eomeril sensed his foster father's gaze upon him but could not see the rage, cold as the grinding ice of the north, which glittered in the eyes of his lord.
"The one who did this," Celeborn's voice hardened. "He is dead?"
"By my own hand," Celemedril spoke for the first time. Eomeril made a small movement as if in remembered pain, then stilled.
"Good." Celeborn said. He turned and walked to his carved wooden chair.
"The one who gave the order still lives," Celemedril said. "But he will not escape my reckoning in the end."
"It may be fated that he will meet his doom at your hands. But not today," Celeborn admonished as he sat. "The blessing of the Valar has brought you safe home. Yes, I say safe," he acknowledged Eomeril's scars with a look. "For while there is breath still in the body, there is a life to be lived with honor and courage. You both are needed here, now and for some time to come."
Celeborn surveyed the four Elves in front of him. Even in the twilight of the Elves in Middle Earth, each of them was worth many dozens of the knights of Men, in strength, skill and valor. In his grandsons, ran the blood of the highest Eldar in Middle Earth and the noblest Houses of Men. Celeborn had long known their fortunes were intertwined with the very fate of Middle Earth.
His fosterlings, sons of one born in the noontide of Valinor itself, were mighty indeed. But only now were the forces that drove their destinies beginning to coalesce about them. The sons of Gilrond would need an anchor in the coming storm.
Celeborn might be able to provide it, but the cost would be high-for them all.
For some time, Celeborn sat unmoving, observing the songbirds dive and soar outside his window. His four waiting listeners looked at each other and shifted their feet, suddenly feeling much younger than they were.
Still watching the aerial display amongst the leaves of Lorien, Celeborn mused, "I remember when the four of you were boys and well nigh inseparable, especially before your sisters were born."
"You were the object of every maiden's pursuit," Celeborn said dryly. "The delight of your weapons masters and the bane of the gate warden's existence."
Memories whispered in the spaces between Celeborn's words. In the sun dappled hall, shades of the children they had once been called out in laughter to one another.
"When my captain brought you all before me to explain your latest escapade, I knew already the part that each of you would have played." Now the Lord of Lothlorien turned to face his audience, singling each one out as he spoke. "The original idea likely formed in Elladan's fertile mind. Celemedril was the strategist. Elrohir and Eomeril carried out the deed, usually with flawless precision."
Elladan shared a rueful look with his brother, whose slightly hunched posture recalled many of those blistering interviews with their grandfather.
"I remind you now of your friendship, your honor, and the bond you once shared." Celeborn's voice turned solemn. "For now is the time when it and you will be tested."
He looked at them all. "The status of Eloessa's son must be discussed." Celeborn's words were like a splash of cold water.
"I don't understand," Celemedril protested. "Eomeril and I are his uncles. His only family. What is there to discuss?"
Elrohir spoke for the first time. "Much has happened since last we met." Celemedril turned a cold stare on him, but Elrohir continued. "I heard of the attack in the mountains and came to Lothlorien to find out what happened."
"When I arrived, Eloessa had recovered but things ," Elrohir shared an oblique look with Celeborn. "Still, I knew that I loved her and wanted to spend our lives together. To my eternal grief, I did not find Eloessa until after her accident. We declared our love for one another and for a short time it appeared she would overcome her injuries. I agreed to accept her child as my own."
"In the end, delivering the baby took all her strength. She died in my arms. Her body spent, she passed to the Halls of Mandos, where, the Valar willing, we will meet again in the Undying Lands." Elrohir spoke with little expression, but Elladan could feel the suppressed grief and tension coursing in his brother's body. He wondered how much longer it could be contained.
Celemedril shook his head in confusion at this abbreviated version of events, but it was Eomeril that spoke.
"He is not telling the truth. Or at least not all he knows." Eomeril said. "For every thing he told there are three left unsaid."
Stung by the accusation, Elrohir responded. "To unleash a flood on the ill prepared would be no favor. You will know what is needful but not all at once. Especially not in the first flush of your grief, when minds are clouded and words are hot."
Eomeril faced his old friend squarely. Elrohir steeled himself not to look away. He sensed that Eomeril would know if he did. Slowly, Eomeril approached. The Elf might be blind but Elrohir felt a vague threat nonetheless.
"Did you love Eloessa in Rivendell when you refused her suit?" Eomeril asked.
Elrohir blanched. He had not expected this. "Yes," he answered.
Eomeril came closer. "Did you love Eloessa when you let her leave Rivendell, sending her into a nightmare of torment and death?" He received no immediate response. "Did you love her then?" he demanded.
"Yes. I loved her." Elrohir said at last.
Another step nearer. "And when you held her, dying, in your arms." Eomeril said in a soft voice. "Tell me, friend. Did you love my sister then?"
"Yes." Elrohir breathed the word, eyes wide and blind with pain.
"You did not love her enough."
Elrohir heard the words but he never saw the fist aimed at him.
Eomeril's powerful blow knocked Elrohir to the floor. "It was not enough." Eomeril said again, standing over the fallen Elf.
Celemedril held his brother back, but Eomeril shook him off. "I am finished."
Elladan ran to his twin, who was already beginning to revive. Helping his brother sit up, he cried out. "Is this what your suffering taught you? To be cruel? To spread your pain to others like a disease?"
Elrohir struggled to his feet, and stood, swaying a little. Elladan supported him, saying, "If he had not found Eloessa in time, if he had not risked his life and his very soul to save her, you would not even have a nephew to remember her by. Her essence would be gone from Middle Earth in truth."
Elrohir, the left side of his face already beginning to bruise, said thickly. "I do not seek their gratitude, Elladan. We have all lost more than can ever be regained. At least I have Eloessa's son." Elladan shot his brother a look, but he did not notice.
Celemedril, growing angry in his turn, challenged the sons of Elrond. "And where is my nephew? I have not even heard you speak his name."
A swelling rage fueled by fresh grief swallowed his reason. "Do you seek to hide him from us, his rightful guardians? Or has he, too, met with an accident?"
Elrohir straightened and cried out. "The boy is alive and well in my keeping. Of what vileness do you accuse me?"
Celemedril ignored this outburst, pacing the hall in his turmoil. "I leave my sister healthy, if not altogether happy, in your care, my lord." He faced Celeborn. "But Elrohir, one who spurned her and broke her heart, arrives. When he does, a mysterious accident befalls Eloessa and takes her life."
Both Elrohir and Elladan would have spoken but Lord Celeborn silenced them with a sharp gesture. He would suffer this display to continue to its conclusion.
"I return, through torture and battle, to find my sister dead." Celemedril cried. "And I find her son in the possession of one with no relation to him by blood or proper wedding vow. The child should have gone to the care of our foster parents until the return of his real family."
Elrohir faced his accuser with little expression. Celemedril advanced, enunciating each word. "I want the boy. Now," he demanded.
"You will meet him when your emotions are calmer and your mind clearer. Not before." Elrohir said in a cool voice. "I claim him as my son and the right of a father over him. And that you may not gainsay."
"You will not have him!" Celemedril roared.
But before he could do or say anything more, a woman's quiet voice interrupted.
"My lord, I have come as you ordered."
Eloessa's brothers appeared to have been alerted to the coming of Celeborn. Celemedril stood at attention, his face pale but composed. Eomeril had put his hood back up.
Celeborn approached his foster sons with measured tread. He stopped only inches away. No one spoke for several moments.
Then Celeborn said simply, "Eomeril," and waited.
After a long moment Eomeril swept the hood back from his face, throwing his head up in defiance. Celemedril drew near to his brother in silent support.
Eomeril sensed his foster father's gaze upon him but could not see the rage, cold as the grinding ice of the north, which glittered in the eyes of his lord.
"The one who did this," Celeborn's voice hardened. "He is dead?"
"By my own hand," Celemedril spoke for the first time. Eomeril made a small movement as if in remembered pain, then stilled.
"Good." Celeborn said. He turned and walked to his carved wooden chair.
"The one who gave the order still lives," Celemedril said. "But he will not escape my reckoning in the end."
"It may be fated that he will meet his doom at your hands. But not today," Celeborn admonished as he sat. "The blessing of the Valar has brought you safe home. Yes, I say safe," he acknowledged Eomeril's scars with a look. "For while there is breath still in the body, there is a life to be lived with honor and courage. You both are needed here, now and for some time to come."
Celeborn surveyed the four Elves in front of him. Even in the twilight of the Elves in Middle Earth, each of them was worth many dozens of the knights of Men, in strength, skill and valor. In his grandsons, ran the blood of the highest Eldar in Middle Earth and the noblest Houses of Men. Celeborn had long known their fortunes were intertwined with the very fate of Middle Earth.
His fosterlings, sons of one born in the noontide of Valinor itself, were mighty indeed. But only now were the forces that drove their destinies beginning to coalesce about them. The sons of Gilrond would need an anchor in the coming storm.
Celeborn might be able to provide it, but the cost would be high-for them all.
For some time, Celeborn sat unmoving, observing the songbirds dive and soar outside his window. His four waiting listeners looked at each other and shifted their feet, suddenly feeling much younger than they were.
Still watching the aerial display amongst the leaves of Lorien, Celeborn mused, "I remember when the four of you were boys and well nigh inseparable, especially before your sisters were born."
"You were the object of every maiden's pursuit," Celeborn said dryly. "The delight of your weapons masters and the bane of the gate warden's existence."
Memories whispered in the spaces between Celeborn's words. In the sun dappled hall, shades of the children they had once been called out in laughter to one another.
"When my captain brought you all before me to explain your latest escapade, I knew already the part that each of you would have played." Now the Lord of Lothlorien turned to face his audience, singling each one out as he spoke. "The original idea likely formed in Elladan's fertile mind. Celemedril was the strategist. Elrohir and Eomeril carried out the deed, usually with flawless precision."
Elladan shared a rueful look with his brother, whose slightly hunched posture recalled many of those blistering interviews with their grandfather.
"I remind you now of your friendship, your honor, and the bond you once shared." Celeborn's voice turned solemn. "For now is the time when it and you will be tested."
He looked at them all. "The status of Eloessa's son must be discussed." Celeborn's words were like a splash of cold water.
"I don't understand," Celemedril protested. "Eomeril and I are his uncles. His only family. What is there to discuss?"
Elrohir spoke for the first time. "Much has happened since last we met." Celemedril turned a cold stare on him, but Elrohir continued. "I heard of the attack in the mountains and came to Lothlorien to find out what happened."
"When I arrived, Eloessa had recovered but things ," Elrohir shared an oblique look with Celeborn. "Still, I knew that I loved her and wanted to spend our lives together. To my eternal grief, I did not find Eloessa until after her accident. We declared our love for one another and for a short time it appeared she would overcome her injuries. I agreed to accept her child as my own."
"In the end, delivering the baby took all her strength. She died in my arms. Her body spent, she passed to the Halls of Mandos, where, the Valar willing, we will meet again in the Undying Lands." Elrohir spoke with little expression, but Elladan could feel the suppressed grief and tension coursing in his brother's body. He wondered how much longer it could be contained.
Celemedril shook his head in confusion at this abbreviated version of events, but it was Eomeril that spoke.
"He is not telling the truth. Or at least not all he knows." Eomeril said. "For every thing he told there are three left unsaid."
Stung by the accusation, Elrohir responded. "To unleash a flood on the ill prepared would be no favor. You will know what is needful but not all at once. Especially not in the first flush of your grief, when minds are clouded and words are hot."
Eomeril faced his old friend squarely. Elrohir steeled himself not to look away. He sensed that Eomeril would know if he did. Slowly, Eomeril approached. The Elf might be blind but Elrohir felt a vague threat nonetheless.
"Did you love Eloessa in Rivendell when you refused her suit?" Eomeril asked.
Elrohir blanched. He had not expected this. "Yes," he answered.
Eomeril came closer. "Did you love Eloessa when you let her leave Rivendell, sending her into a nightmare of torment and death?" He received no immediate response. "Did you love her then?" he demanded.
"Yes. I loved her." Elrohir said at last.
Another step nearer. "And when you held her, dying, in your arms." Eomeril said in a soft voice. "Tell me, friend. Did you love my sister then?"
"Yes." Elrohir breathed the word, eyes wide and blind with pain.
"You did not love her enough."
Elrohir heard the words but he never saw the fist aimed at him.
Eomeril's powerful blow knocked Elrohir to the floor. "It was not enough." Eomeril said again, standing over the fallen Elf.
Celemedril held his brother back, but Eomeril shook him off. "I am finished."
Elladan ran to his twin, who was already beginning to revive. Helping his brother sit up, he cried out. "Is this what your suffering taught you? To be cruel? To spread your pain to others like a disease?"
Elrohir struggled to his feet, and stood, swaying a little. Elladan supported him, saying, "If he had not found Eloessa in time, if he had not risked his life and his very soul to save her, you would not even have a nephew to remember her by. Her essence would be gone from Middle Earth in truth."
Elrohir, the left side of his face already beginning to bruise, said thickly. "I do not seek their gratitude, Elladan. We have all lost more than can ever be regained. At least I have Eloessa's son." Elladan shot his brother a look, but he did not notice.
Celemedril, growing angry in his turn, challenged the sons of Elrond. "And where is my nephew? I have not even heard you speak his name."
A swelling rage fueled by fresh grief swallowed his reason. "Do you seek to hide him from us, his rightful guardians? Or has he, too, met with an accident?"
Elrohir straightened and cried out. "The boy is alive and well in my keeping. Of what vileness do you accuse me?"
Celemedril ignored this outburst, pacing the hall in his turmoil. "I leave my sister healthy, if not altogether happy, in your care, my lord." He faced Celeborn. "But Elrohir, one who spurned her and broke her heart, arrives. When he does, a mysterious accident befalls Eloessa and takes her life."
Both Elrohir and Elladan would have spoken but Lord Celeborn silenced them with a sharp gesture. He would suffer this display to continue to its conclusion.
"I return, through torture and battle, to find my sister dead." Celemedril cried. "And I find her son in the possession of one with no relation to him by blood or proper wedding vow. The child should have gone to the care of our foster parents until the return of his real family."
Elrohir faced his accuser with little expression. Celemedril advanced, enunciating each word. "I want the boy. Now," he demanded.
"You will meet him when your emotions are calmer and your mind clearer. Not before." Elrohir said in a cool voice. "I claim him as my son and the right of a father over him. And that you may not gainsay."
"You will not have him!" Celemedril roared.
But before he could do or say anything more, a woman's quiet voice interrupted.
"My lord, I have come as you ordered."