A/N: A large jump in years, I know, but never fear! These missing years will soon be compensated for!
Chapter 8- Mithlond: Of Gossip and Letters
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Year 1100 of the Third Age
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Nearly eight yén had passed in the lands of Arda, and still Silaerín found herself in Mithlond, sitting on the beach and wishing she were anywhere else but where she was. The only difference between the Silaerín that had returned from Imladris so long ago and the Silaerín she was now was her age and her increased presence in the small court of Mithlond as a Lady and running the things her grandmother and mother would have taken care of had they still remained in Middle-earth. But really, she would go mad if she had to sit through another of those insanely dull and superficial meetings they called sewing gatherings that were usually used more frequently for the gossip and frivolous talk of things.
Her father somehow thought it compensation for her to take such a high seat in return for her not being allowed to travel. But how could it really be compensation to sit amongst the ellyth of Mithlond, listening to their idle chatter about this ellon or that ellon, or the gossip of one's child? She wished to know that. She had tried to figure this out for almost all the eight yén she had been back. And the best answer that she could come to was that her father had purposefully done this to somehow bore her so much that she would become one of the vain ellyth that surrounded her everyday from the moment she rose in the morning until she shut them away at night by the large doors to her chambers. Maybe he had hoped she would care less for reading and expanding her mind? Maybe that had been his plan all along when he came to Imladris to reclaim her?
However, she still considered herself lucky to have the ever-constant support of her grandfather. It was his support and love that kept her sane all of these long years away from the one place she had truly felt comfortable with herself. But, needless to say, she had become very good at the courtly, polite nod of her head and a soft smile as she listened to the droning and mindless drivel of her ladies. And she would continue to do this until she again saw her opening to try leaving Mithlond.
Silaerín sighed heavily, laying her legs out flat against the soft, fine sand beneath her and readjusted her long skirts. She was lucky enough to sneak away from her duties for the day, to come out here to sit and listen the sounds of the waves rolling, cresting and crashing onto each other in the clear blue of the sea. At least her father had not taken this solace away from her. It was the least he could have done after all, but she sometimes mused if he worried that some evil gull would fly over her head and deposit his waste on her shoulder or her hair. Really, as far as she was concerned, that was about the only danger she faced here in Mithlond. Well, besides that of dying from completely and utter boredom. But those things were obviously acceptable to be exposed to.
"Ah, there you are." She turned quickly to find her stealthy grandfather standing behind her and looking out into the Sea. Círdan took in a deep breath of the salty air, and said, "There is a storm brewing to the northwest."
Silaerín turned in the direction he had mentioned, seeing the dark clouds forming. "It seems to match my mood perfectly."
Círdan chuckled lowly and came to sit beside her, on the sand. She watched him closely, never really thinking he, the mighty Círdan, would sit beside her on the beach. He glanced at her and laughed as he straightened out his robes. "Do not give that look, Silaerín. I am capable of enjoying time with my granddaughter while sitting with her on the beach."
"But what will people say, Iauradar?" she questioned sarcastically, turning her eyes back out to the Sea.
He sighed, "You do not care to hear about the things that are told better in your sitting groups with your ladies?"
Silaerín cast him a hard glare, "You know I do not."
"At least he has not won out with his foolish ideas to keep you in one place," he replied.
"But he has," she said. "I am still here. I have been here for a millennia!"
He nodded his head, his silver hair falling over his shoulders as he looked at the sand and grasped some of it in his hand. Holding it a little way from the ground, he let the sand slowly sieve through his long fingers, the wind catching it and blowing it off to the side. "You truly do not like it here?"
Silaerín shook her head, "Grandfather, you know I love Mithlond, that I love the beach. It is just the fact that I am held here against my own will that I do not like and find myself resenting this place."
"Your father only does what he thinks is right," he said, glancing at her.
"I know that. We have discussed this many times before, you and I, and each time we do, it becomes no easier to take," Silaerín replied.
Círdan sighed and looked off into the sunset, letting the silence hang in the air as the waves slowly became more violent with the impending storm. He reached into his robes and drew out an envelope, holding it out for her. Silaerín took it from as he said, "I grew worried when you were not there to greet the herald. You are always there waiting for news of the outside world."
Silaerín held the envelope in her hand and gazed down at the elegant writing. She looked at him, trying to mask her unhappiness with a slight smile, but it did not work. "I no longer take joy when the messenger brings correspondence. Not like I once used to."
"Why is that, pen neth?" he asked.
"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?" she questioned.
He smiled, "Because it gives me some excitement in life if I am wrong."
"You have not seen enough excitement in your long life, Iauradar?" she smiled feebly. "And you know it is because Elladan and Elrohir stopped writing over five years ago."
Círdan exhaled and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I know that you and Elrond's sons have maintained your friendship over the course of this millennia, Silaerín. But you must also take into account there are duties they must see to as lords of Imladris, and also at their place among the many skilled warriors of Imladris as their captains. That takes great amounts of time."
"I know that, Grandfather, but I find it hard to believe that they could not find one moment in five years to write a short note to me," Silaerín replied, and turned the envelope over to find the red wax seal with the crest of Imladris on it. She nearly squealed from happiness, and tore it open quickly, skimming the first few lines of the letter.
"What does it say?" Círdan asked.
"Only that they wrote the latter part of this three years ago and that it had somehow gotten mixed up about when it should be sent. They only found it a few months ago when they were looking through the papers on Elladan's writing table," Silaerín explained. "But that still does not excuse them for waiting the last three years to send another letter."
Círdan laughed, "Perhaps they thought you were angry because you did not reply to this letter they thought they had sent."
Silaerín nodded her head, and continued to read the letter, finding that it was just a basic happenings of daily life in Imladris, and made her wish to be there with them even more so than before. At least that had brightened her day. "Thank you for bringing this out to me."
"That is not the reason I have come to fetch you," Círdan replied. "I am to entertain some guests who have arrived from Arnor to discuss matters of trade. I wish to have you at the table beside me."
"I know little about trade, Iauradar," she said.
"It is your duty as Lady of the Havens," he commented sternly, but then smiled. "Besides, your purpose is to distract them enough with your beauty so that I can negotiate a good deal for us."
Silaerín scoffed and gave her grandfather a sour look, "So that is all I am to this realm? I way to distract the likes of Men?"
"You are much more," Círdan said and stood from his spot. "If you sit with me at the meal, you may learn of trade and become an even more vital asset to this land."
She smiled, standing up as well, and followed close behind him as he had already started back for the dwelling. They arrived back to an unusually quiet home, and Mílwen quickly found her to shoo her away to a bath that had been drawn for her to prepare for the evening. Silaerín entered her quiet chambers, to disrobe for her bath, but she took the slight detour to her writing table. She sat down in the chair and let out another sigh as she reread the letter from Imladris still in her hands. Opening the lower left hand drawer, she extracted the light wooden box in which she kept all of the letters she received, all the way back to the one Elladan had handed to her in Imladris.
Deciding that her bath could wait a few more minutes, she lifted the letter from the top of the others and replaced it with the new one. This letter always remained on top of them, it the most important out of any other correspondence she had ever had with the twins. Silaerín ran her fingers along the parchment that had become nearly as smooth as cloth and yellowed from so many years and so much usage on her part. Really, she did not know why she had to reread the words every time she thought of it, as by now with the many thousands of times she had read it, she should have had it memorized. And she did, but she found comfort in rereading the words over and over again... to know that there was someone out there who cared for her in such a way.
There had been a farewell of epic proportions written in the beginning, of the finest caliber of poetry, which made her laugh every single time she read it. And then they had gone on to discuss what it would be like the next time they were to meet, of teaching her how to arch and live in the wilds. Elrohir had personally written about hiding in the wardrobe and hopefully actually finding a beautiful, grown Elf-maiden the next time they tried to do that. Then the parchment had obviously been passed off to Elladan, who had taken time with his portion. The only way she could see that was by the overstated, and hideous blot of ink on his first letter that could only be caused by holding a quill against it for a long period of time while he thought of what to say. His note had been warm, and he had outlined exactly what he would do should she send for their help. It dealt with feeding her father to the wolves, but also went on to say that he would bind with her if it came to that.
Really, was he mad to keep suggesting that?
"What good would it do?" she questioned herself, like she had all the times before, and still she could not figure that out. There was no need for Elladan to bind with her now or forever on. Especially not with who he was, and what her father thought of him. That would just be too much to ask anyone. And they were Elves, for goodness sakes! No one ever did these things because of unreasonable fathers.
Did they?
"My lady!" Mílwen exclaimed, "To your bath, now!"
Silaerín jumped slightly and nodded her head, placing the letter back into the wooden box and replacing the box back into the drawer.
Silaerín sat in front of the mirror at her dressing table as Mílwen placed the circlet of fine mithril that had been wrought in the delicate lines of abstract waves about her head and encrusted with the white stones that were found within the confines of the large mollusks from the Sea floor. She liked this circlet the best as it was light on her brow, allowing her to have better movement of her neck, and also because this was the one her mother had worn most often. There was a time when she could not wait for the moment she would get to wear such an ornament, but now that she had seen what the circlet had given her- all manner of dull ellyth- she did not like it.
Who could?
"I would look happier if I were you," Mílwen said, fixing Silaerín's long strands of hair about her circlet. "Your father is gone, and you are sharing the evening meal with fine people."
Silaerín smiled and laughed, "I should be. I am sorry I have been such a gloomy person."
"I cannot blame you, my lady," Mílwen said. "The storm on the horizon did not look well. That would make anyone feel gloomy."
"It is not the storm," she mumbled to herself.
Mílwen finished with her task and sighed, "I think that will have to do for now."
Silaerín stood from her spot and smoothed out the layers of her gown of lightweight pale blue fabric, lined in silver thread. At least she had talked Mílwen out of making her wear the entirely too warm velvet of a more formal gown. It was a small triumph for Silaerín to win the battle, but it was one of the few things she had control over.
There was a knock at her door, and Mílwen went to open it, finding that it was one of the lower and much younger handmaids. She bowed slightly, "My lord requests your company in the sitting room, my lady."
"Thank you, Laeriel," Silaerín replied and turned to Mílwen. "Thank you, Mílwen."
With that, Silaerín left the room, walking down the stone corridors toward her intended destination, soft talking growing louder as she moved closer. She was able to discern a female's voice from the group, but nothing more and definitely none of the characteristics of the voice. Taking a breath, she stepped around the corner and into the room through the open wall to the corridor. There stood her grandfather dressed in a fine robe and circlet, conversing with a familiar Elf-lord and his lady wife both dressed accordingly with their ornaments upon their brows as well. They had not changed one bit, but she was more than overjoyed to see them here, of all places.
Wait, had her grandfather lied to her earlier?
Celebrían was first to notice her presence, and a large, bright smile crossed the Lady of Imladris' features. Silaerín did not need to walk to her, as Celebrían quickly glided across the room and pulled her into her arms. The older elleth said nothing as she hugged Silaerín, until she stood back and cupped her cheeks, much like she had done the very first time they had met. Except this time, Silaerín was not shy.
"Look at you," Celebrían said quietly. "An adult now. And a very beautiful elleth at that. It's the Telerin, I do believe."
Silaerín laughed and felt herself blush, "Thank you, my lady."
The lady laughed, "It still has not changed in a thousand years, pen neth. I am still Celebrían to you, especially now that you are a true Lady of the Havens."
Elrond joined Celebrían's side, and smiled down at her. She had grown and was as tall as any other elleth in Arda, and still he towered over her. It was true what the histories said of his being great among Elves and Men. He made no move to embrace her or do any of the sort, and she knew the last thing Elrond would probably do was that, but he bowed to her and said, "I think I like this greeting much better than the last."
"As do I," Silaerín nodded.
And then there was the sound of an angered person clearing their throat behind her, followed by a deep, "We have traveled for a month and a half to be greeted like this! You did not even see us when you entered."
Silaerín turned quickly to find her long lost brothers, standing beside each other and not looking at all like she had remembered them. They stood tall and proud with their tunics of brocaded dark blue and leggings of black. Their hair was longer and darker than she had last seen it, reaching well down their backs and neatly tied in a braid. Such smiles had she long missed, their expressive, caring faces...
And she stopped her assessment of them for a moment. They were truly different, in all manner of the word. At fifty, they had been grown, but she had not imagined they would actually do more maturing than they already had. Their faces were still Elven-fair and nearly exactly like each other's, except now their jaw lines were squared, and their faces slightly thinner and more masculine... much more masculine than any Elf she had ever seen. And in stature they had grown taller, towering over her like their father, and also in width. Actually, it was not that they had become round in any sense of the word, but they definitely filled out their tunics much better. Their shoulders were broad, and it appeared their arms finely toned beneath the fabric of their tunic, and that was not even mentioning the expanse of their chests or the tightness of the sinew in their legs evident underneath their leggings.
Silaerín felt herself blush, the heat nearly unbearable when she realized what she was doing by gazing over them and that the others room had completely silenced themselves. Never had she felt those urges before to look over any ellon in such a way, but these two were different. Very different from any regular lanky ellon. They also were with the blood of Men and the Maiar in their veins. Taking a deep breath, she met each of their eyes, discerning who was who.
"I am sorry," Silaerín replied, glancing at her grandfather. He smiled in an almost wicked manner, and turned around to sip the Miruvor he had already started on for the evening. "This was just not expected."
Elrohir smiled warmly, and stepped forward, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. He said, "It seems it does not matter if we jump from a wardrobe or not, you will still act dumbfounded."
She was still in a state of shock that they were all here, and wanted answers as to why they had come to begin with, but she was even more surprised that it was Elrohir kissing the back of her hand and not Elladan. She looked at the twin standing back, and noticed that he had a glazed look in his eyes, as though he were in the same state of shock she was in. Perhaps she was for once wrong in separating the two? After all, it had been long since she last saw them... and they had changed a great deal. Thinking of their 'changes' again, only made her blush again and she looked away to try to calm the red that was probably very evident on her cheeks.
As she looked away, she noticed the dark-haired elleth standing a ways back, her hair long and wavy and her eyes of the most piercing blue-grey. The elleth smiled meekly, her perfectly shaped pink lips forming a pleasant smile. Celebrían stepped to Silaerín's side but motioned for the other elleth to join them, "Silaerín, this is our daughter, Arwen."
Silaerín smiled at the alabaster-skinned elleth, "I have heard much of your exploits from your brothers... that is whenever they deign to send me a letter."
The elleth who looked like Celebrían besides her dark hair, laughed merrily, it sounding like bells in a light wind. "I am sure anything they have told you is ten times worse than it really was. I am sure you know of their penchants for embellishing stories."
Silaerín nodded and chuckled, glancing quickly in the direction of the twins who were now talking hastily and quietly amongst each other. What could be so secret that they were acting like this? "It is a pleasure to meet you Arwen."
Arwen nodded her head, "And it is finally wonderful to meet the elleth whom my brothers talk about all the time."
"I am sure I am the last thing on their minds," Silaerín said.
The younger elleth leaned over and whispered, "You would be surprised, though it is usually them comparing my impetuous tendencies to your quiet and thoughtful ones."
There was the sound of a low rolling thunder outside, signaling that the storm was nearer to shore. It startled them all, but Círdan looked about, "Let us proceed to the dining hall for our meal? Silaerín?"
She took his offered arm, as they led their guests down the corridors to the dining hall. Having so many questions, she could not wait to lean over and whisper, "Why did you not tell me they were to travel here, Iauradar?"
"I thought that it would be a welcome diversion for you," Círdan replied. "I am saving you from at least a month's worth of gossiping ladies. And besides that, Lord Elrond and I have some things to speak on."
"The ladies will still gossip, and they will still seek me out to be a vessel to unleash it," Silaerín replied with a laugh, but grew quiet again. "Does Ada know?"
Círdan clenched his jaw, she could see that from the muscles in his face changing beneath the thick silver beard. "He knows that Elrond was to come to discuss some things, but he does not know of the others. However, I am sure your brother will do a sufficient job of rowing out to alert him of the fact."
Silaerín sighed, "Well, let us not worry about it this night. This is too lovely a gift to be taken over by dark thoughts."
"I agree," Círdan nodded.
She smiled to herself, turning her head slightly, so that she could just barely see the twins out of the corner of her eyes. This was truly a wonderful gift.
yén- 144 years in Elvish reckoning.
Iauradar- grandfather
Pen neth- young one