Chapter 6
There was darkness, and then there was a small light. It was soft and warm, gentle and loving. It grew larger and larger, slowly pushing back the blackness from behind her eyes. In her sleep, she smiled.
His heart felt a pull as he watched her rest. When a smile played about her lips, another tugged at his own. He cared for her; he realized this. Despite the obvious differences, she reminded him of Arwen: so beautiful, saddened by memory and loss. His smile turned to a frown as he recalled the ugliness of her injuries.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, hesitant about the brilliance around her. Immediately, she saw him regarding her with distant eyes, as though seeing her yet thinking of something else. /Elrond./ she remembered. His eyes quickly regained their focus as she struggled to rise. Gently, he helped her, being careful to not touch her.
She looked at him, and asked:
"Am I contagious, or something?"
He looked sharply at her, then relaxed and smiled again. She liked to see him smile: it made her feel safe…and protected.
"No, there is no contagion within you," he said kindly, "While you were ill, you reacted badly to physical contact. It was difficult to Heal you, but possible."
"How…badly?" she asked, curious and disinterested at the same time.
"You had to be restrained, pen-dithen," he said gently.
She was quiet for a moment. Suddenly, a low growl interrupted the silence. She quickly placed her hands against her belly, wincing as she pressed too hard. Elrond smothered a grin at her embarrassment, then frowned slightly at her pain. He clapped his hands twice, and the door to her chamber opened.
She immediately still, her body tense as another Elf appeared, carrying a tray of food. Elrond waved a hand to the table beside them. The Elf kept his eyes lowered; the girl's anxiety was extremely evident to one with heightened senses.
"Hannon le, Elár," said Elrond calmly, as the dark-haired Elf left as quietly as he had come.
They ate in a silence that was not awkward, not for them. She chewed her food delicately, savoring its taste and flavor.
"May I ask you questions, pen-dithen?" asked Elrond at last.
She was silent, and as he looked at her, appeared to be deep in thought,
"Yes."
He settled back in a chair, and steepled his fingers.
"Who are you?"
She swallowed slowly, relieved at getting an easy question.
"My name is Briana Morgan."
"A strange name, Brianamorgan. What does it mean?"
She smiled slightly.
"No. Briana is my first name; my family name is Morgan. It's my f-father's last name, therefore it's given to my mother, his wife, and my sister and I, his children."
He looked at her, intrigued.
"The only beings I have ever known to have family names passed on to their children are hobbits. You don't appear to be of hobbit-kind, however."
"No," she shook her head, "I don't know what a hobbit is, but I do know I'm human, if that helps."
He nodded slightly.
"Thank you, pen-dithen. It does help me."
She cocked her head to one side.
"What does that mean? Pen-dithen?"
Elrond smiled.
"It means 'little one'" he explained, "It is Sindarin, a form of Elvish. There are other forms as well."
"I like it; your language is so beautiful, like music."
Smiling, he chuckled.
"Then you shall be pen-dithen, Briana."
He leaned forward.
"Pen-dithen, who is Meredith?"
She sucked in a breath, her eyes pressed shut tightly to block tears.
"How-how do you know about M-Meredith?" she asked thickly, concentrating on her breathing.
He noticed her reaction, and guessed that whoever this Meredith was, they had been important.
"Who is Meredith?" he asked again, his voice gentle.
Briana swallowed, and opened her eyes. Elrond nearly drew back from the misery in their depths; he remained firm. He laid a hand lightly on her shoulder, frowned as she cringed slightly at his touch; concealing his hurt, he gently pressed.
"Who was Meredith, pen-dithen?"
"She was my little sister," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and memory as she spoke, smiling slightly in remembrance:
"She was beautiful, her hair red-gold and her eyes gray. I can see her playing in the park, hear her laugh again; she didn't laugh very often. She would smile, sometimes, at the smallest things, when we were alone, and it would light up her face, making her freckles stand out even more."
Elrond paid attention to her face, tucking away her pride in her sister, the way her whole countenance would change with each memory. One thing stood out, however.
"Why would she only laugh and smile when you were alone, little one?"
He watched as she sighed, and fixed her eyes from him out the window, unable to meet his gaze. He grew concerned as he noticed her eyes harden to chips of ice, and narrow to slits of tempered steel.
"My sister and I came from a…troubled home. Our mother died eight years ago, just after giving birth to Meredith; we were left with our father."
She spat the last word with venom, as if it was a curse.
"He made our lives a living hell, nightmare by day and torture by night. He began drinking so badly, he would hurt her. He would hurt my Meredith."
Elrond grew confused: how could a parent harm their child, their flesh and blood, for whom they were responsible?
"At least, he tried," she whispered, focused on her memories, forgetting Elrond's presence, "I had learned to hide from him, from before. Whenever he came home, I would put her away; sometimes he found her and beat us both for it, and other times he wouldn't and then take it out on me."
The Elf Lord had difficulty breathing, realizing in surreal horror just where the signs of her old injuries had been founded.
"I didn't mind, though," she said absently, shaking her head and looking at Elrond, "I would have gone to hell for Meredith, as long as I could keep her safe. And I did. She knew, too- knew what I did for her. She died because of him, that mother-fucking bastard."
Briana couldn't take lying down any longer; groaning in pain, she swung her legs from the bed, thrust the blanket from her, and walked unsteadily to the window. Leaning against its frame for support, she had to breathe harshly for air.
"My mother tried to call the police on him, but the captain was in his back-pocket from years before; he would beat her, too. That's why she died," Briana smiled grimly, speaking in a bleak and angered voice:
"Because she didn't give him a son like he wanted. So, he hit her after she came home from the hospital. And he didn't stop until she was dead; he walked down to the local bar after that, to get wasted."
Elrond was appalled at the child before him, a far-off part of his mind trying to imagine himself and Celebrían as such a family. He failed.
"Before she- she …She asked me if it was time to go home with an angel she had seen," she whispered, "I felt my heart break as I told her to go; she knew, too, I think. She told me she loved me, and then she was gone."
She swallowed back the tears and hysteria that threatened to escape her control.
"After Meredith died, I ran out of the hospital. I-I just c-couldn't stay there, not with her silent body, her dead eyes," she stammered, soundless tears running from her face, her eyes fixed unwavering on some distant tree in the mountains.
Elrond stood from the bed, and walked behind her. Gently, he turned her body from the window, though she refused to move her head; with one finger, he turned her chin to him, noting strangely that her eyes were now fixed on the top button of his robe. Using the same fingertip, he tilted her eyes to him.
"You have no blame, my child. There was nothing you could have done."
"She's gone, forever," came the broken reply.
He smiled softly at her as he held her to him.
"One is not truly dead until one is forgotten, pen-dithen. I have no misgivings that you will ever forget Meredith Morgan."
He held her to him, looking closely into her eyes.
"Telil nan aur trî in nae, little one; garo estel ned nin."
Holding her gently, so as not to frighten her, he tucked her head beneath his chin. Briana was puzzled that though he was touching her, she didn't want to pull away from him. She craved that feeling of security, as though he could protect her from anything. She returned his hug hesitantly. Elrond smiled, and though she could not see it, she felt the lifting of his lips in her hair.
"Briana," he began, "I would ask you another question."
She pulled from him slightly, so that his arms were still around her, but only loosely.
"As I watch you, pen-dithen, I feel protective of you. It angers me to see you hurt by memories, shadows from your past; it pleases me to see you smile with pleasure. I would ask you for consent to adopt you, pen-dithen."
The child in his arms froze, her breath coming in harsh pants.
"Pen-dithen, I will care for you, protect you, guard you; I will not allow any harm to befall you. You would be a daughter of my house, taught freedom and love."
She snorted at that, then said in a bleak voice:
"I don't know how to love, Elrond. Those I've loved in the past have died; would you be so unwise as to continue the cycle? Don't you know trouble comes in threes?"
Elrond placed his hands on her arms.
"Hênen, you do not see how others can love you. Do you fear me?"
"No."
"Do you feel safe with me?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel respect for me?"
"Yes."
"Do you trust me?"
"Y-Yes."
He bowed his head to hers, and whispered:
"That is a child's love for a parent. I will honor you, pen-dithen, and protect you."
She was silent, then looked at him, a quivering smile upon her lips.
"I can't call you 'F-Father' or 'Dad'; there're too many bad memories with those words. What's the Elvish word for 'Father'?"
He smiled at her quickness.
"'Ada' is 'father'."
"Then you will be Ada to me. My ada."
"Iellen, eston le Elenia Beriadthêl."
She grinned at him suddenly, throwing him off with the brilliance in her smile.
"My ada," she whispered.
Lord Elrond smiled, his heart flushed with pride as he strode from her room, leaving her to rest peacefully, to recuperate from her injuries. He sensed the other Elf's presence just before he spoke:
"What have you learned, my Lord?"
The Lord looked at the princeling, then sighed mysteriously, at least to the younger Elf.
"I have found a daughter, Legolas. A daughter fired to tempered steel, honed to a deadly point, and barren of love. I have given this child the protection of my House; do not attempt to interrogate her without myself in the room."
Legolas gaped at the ruler of Imladris in shock and repressed annoyance.
"Have you taken leave of your senses, my Lord? You barely know the chit, her being unconscious until two nights prior. How do you know she is to be trusted, let alone worthy of your generosity?"
Elrond looked fiercely upon the Prince, who was confused and irritated at this outcome.
"This child," said Elrond slowly, "is as much mine as if I were her true father. You will receive your answers, Legolas Thranduilîon, on that you may rest your temper. But whether I adopt her or not, I would not have her questioned without one person, at least, able to give her security."
"And your ability to trust her?" asked Legolas wearily, already knowing the answer.
"I trust her as my own blood. I will care for her, Legolas; I will protect her."
Surprised at the vehemence in Elrond's voice, Legolas looked at him. Burning from the Elven Lord's eyes was a glittering fire of fatherly vengeance and anger. He had discovered something, Legolas realized: something from the woman's past had sparked these dangerous emotions.
Time would tell if Legolas would have patience enough to discover it for himself.
A.N.:
"One is not truly dead until one is forgotten." (I do NOT own this! Tolkien does!)
"You can only come to the morning through the shadows"; from Tolkien, himself (OR this!)
To Navaer Lalaith: Yes, you had corrected me earlier with 'ata' being 'father', but from DragonFlame, I like 'ada'
A.N. II:
From http : real elvish . tripod . com /, a reliable source of LOTR Elvish information:
Second names were common, names given after their first naming. They often told something about the person that they or someone else found important.
A.N. III:
Translation:
Hannon le Thank you
Telil nan aur trî in nae You can only come to the morning through the shadows
Garo estel ned nin Have trust in me
Hênen My child
Iellen, eston le Elenia Beriadthêl My daughter, I name you Elenia Beriadthêl
Elenia meaning "Star-void"
Beriadthêl meaning "Sister's protection"