The Game of Love: Strike
By Khylaren
Chapter 3
Time, for an immortal, passes much differently than it does for a mortal. That goes without saying. However, for an immortal, who was once mortal, time passes in an altogether different fashion – a combination of moments that seem to last an eternity, and years that pass within minutes.
The passage of time was something that Laurel refused to consider at first, concentrating instead on learning everything there was to learn about elvenkind. She didn't want to think about how long she'd been gone from her world, though it was difficult not to. She missed her family and friends terribly, and she tried very hard not dwell on them. There was some comfort, albeit very slight, in knowing that because of her death in her world, her family at least had some type of closure. It was more than she'd been given.
As the months passed, she found herself making an effort to use fewer words and phrases of her old vernacular, though some continued to crop of from time to time, earning her puzzled and bemused looks from her fellow elves. Lord Elrond's acceptance of her did much to pave the way in earning their trust, as did the story he cleverly concocted to explain her sudden presence there. He had woven a tale with pieces of the truth; Glorfindel had found Laurel on the edge of the Bruinen, alone, and without any memory to explain how she came there or of her life before. She had suffered an injury so great, she must be re-taught like an elfling, until her memory returned. Of her unusual name, Elrond simply said that it was the only name Laurel could recall. And because Elrond accepted it, the others did as well. Only he, Glorfindel, and Erestor knew the real truth behind her appearance.
Between Elrond and Erestor, her education in the history of elves both past and present was almost overwhelming, but as all Erestor was wont to tell her, it was not like she didn't have the time to learn it all.
Along with the history of the elves, she learned the history of the land – Arda, as it was called. She knew the names of the Valar and their respective powers. She read about the disgrace and betrayal of the Noldor, of the forging of the Silmarils. She learned the names of the Númenorean Kings and the names of the three rings, the history of the dwarves and the slow but inevitable downfall of men after the Last Alliance. She learned about halflings, called Hobbits, and how they shared the love of green and growing things with elvenkind. She learned about the other elven realms, Lothlórien and Greenwood the Great, now called Mirkwood, and wished somehow she could have seen the great elven cities of old.
The greatest advantage of having so much information to learn was that it helped her to cope with her feelings about her situation. For the first several weeks, each day was a struggle just to get out of bed. Keeping busy helped to stave off some of the homesickness she felt, as well as gradually ease the ache in her heart whenever she thought of her family and friends she'd left behind. That was not to say she still didn't have days where she didn't even want to leave her room, but as time passed the hollow feeling inside of her began to be filled.
Lord Elrond had given her a week to adjust before he gradually began to introduce her to the other elves shared the house. He did it as she learned he did all things, carefully, wisely, and with great forethought. She had already met Glorfindel and Erestor, and during the first week both elves made an effort to speak to her at least once a day. At the time, she'd been too miserable to really appreciate their kindness and concern. Looking back on it in retrospect she realized how fortunate she was to have their regard at all.
It was Arwen she was introduced to first. The gentle daughter of Elrond, Arwen was to Laurel the very personification of the highest quality of elves: beautiful, graceful, kind, generous, quick to laugh and share in joy and merriment. Laurel found it very easy to like her. Of course, she learned, one could not spend any amount of time in Elrond or Arwen's company without eventually meeting Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond.
It was hard to even think straight when those two were in the same room. The moment they discovered they could make her flustered with their teasing, they delighted in finding ways of making her blush, until either Arwen or their father came to her rescue. The only time they did not tease her was when she was in the company of Lord Glorfindel. She was a little chagrined to discover that they teased every unattached elleth in such a manner, and gradually learned not to take them with any seriousness.
The otherworldly and wild beauty of the elves was something that took her a while to get accustomed to. It wasn't just Glorfindel's golden splendor, Arwen's ethereal loveliness, Erestor's simmering good looks, or Elrond's noble features; all the elves were that way, each different from the last, each with their own type of beauty. She found herself breathless and awed, time and time again as she was slowly introduced to each member of Elrond's household: Lindir in particular was bewitching with his summer blue eyes and silver hair. If she'd been human still, Laurel thought she would have simply collapsed in a gooey puddle of overloaded hormones. It took her several weeks to get past her initial, weak-kneed reactions, but even now, all it took was a flirtatious look from either the twins or Lindir to make her embarrassingly tongue-tied.
Time passed both swiftly and with agonizing slowness as Laurel began to adjust to her new life. It was still difficult to imagine that she would grow no older physically, she'd never get gray hair or wrinkles, and, barring a fatal accident of some type, she would never die. Gradually she began to accept that this was who she was now. There was no going back. Her old life was gone for good.
It was going well, and Eros was pleased.
As he had hoped, Laurel was adapting to her new life, albeit gradually, and beginning to fit in with her new kindred. He was aware of his mother's interference on Laurel's behalf, but not bothered by it, for it had worked out for the best.
He considered carefully the next step in bringing Laurel and her true love together, toying with the idea of bringing them into contact with each other briefly, and then separating them for an age or so. Just to see what would happen, of course.
It was during all this that it was brought rather abruptly to his attention that something very important had slipped his notice.
When Laurel became an elf, she apparently no longer became his to deal with. As a resident of Arda, she fell directly under the purview of the Valar.
And the Valar, quite frankly, were not at all pleased.
This became readily apparent to Eros when Varda appeared before him, resplendent in robes of white and gold, a frown darker than Zeus' thunderclouds on her lovely face.
"Eros." There was a weight of disapproval in her voice.
"Varda," he returned, wondering why the wife of Manwë had called upon him. The Valar rarely left their home to visit other realms. "What brings you here?"
"You are meddling in the affairs of beings that are not your concern. When you brought this mortal to Arda and changed her nature, was it not explained to you that she would no longer be yours to interfere with?" Varda's melodious voice was utterly mild, and did not match the dark expression she wore.
It was his turn to frown. "No. It was not."
"She belongs to the Valar now," Varda explained patiently, as one would explain to a child. "You can no longer influence her fate."
Eros stiffened, not liking her tone. "She wouldn't belong to the Valar if I hadn't brought her to Arda," he reminded her sharply. "I didn't bring her to your realm just to leave her to her own devices."
Varda's expression lightened somewhat. "Yes, I am aware why this child was taken from your world and placed in ours, and I honor your intentions, truly. I know of the one she is destined for, and if ever an elf deserved happiness, it is he. It is why we allowed the transfer to take place. It is also why Manwë did not interfere when Aphrodite assisted Lord Elrond."
"However," Eros said, scowling, "You are telling me that I can no longer do my duty by her? I must stand by and wait to see it unfold without helping her?"
"Yes," Varda replied gently. "That is what I am telling you."
"You cannot forbid me this," Eros argued, shaking his head. "She would not be here if it were not for my interference. How can you deny me this?"
Varda drew herself upright and looked down at him, her natural glow intensifying until he was forced to shield his eyes.
"I remind you that it is the Valar, and blessed Ilúvatar, who rule the fates of Arda, not the forgotten gods of the Greeks," Varda said coolly. Her glow faded to a tolerable level, and her expression softened. "It is my belief that this child should find her way on her own, as do all our children, without our help, without our interference. I think her strong enough to stand on her own." When Eros opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand to silence him. "I will, however, speak to the others. Perhaps a compromise can be made, for although she belongs to Arda now, she was, once, a child of man and under your protection."
"And until then?" Eros asked, not willing to concede defeat.
Varda smiled. "You will respect our wishes. You may observe, nothing more."
Without any god-like interference whatsoever, Laurel had managed to lose her heart to the one individual who could not hurt her: Asfaloth. For the stallion's part, he seemed to honestly return her affection; if Laurel was out anywhere near where the horses grazed, Asfaloth seemed to find her, content to follow her, or simply stand and allow her to pet him. She took to bringing him treats every day, usually carrots or apples raided from the larder, when Glorfindel was otherwise occupied, and that might have had something to do with Asfaloth's eagerness to seek her out.
Whether it was due to Laurel's habit of bringing the stallion treats, or Asfaloth's gentle nature itself, a type of bond formed between them. Laurel found she could pour her troubles into Asfaloth's white ears and he did not judge her, nor could he repeat any of it. It was therapy at its most inexpensive best.
He in turn, received extra attention; his coat had never been so glossy from repeated brushings, his mane and tail never braided so nicely, and the apples and carrots, of course, were always welcome. The brown one had a soft voice and gentle touch, and he did enjoy the way she always seemed to find the places that needed scratching the most.
She had come today, after his rider, the golden one, had left, and she had offered him something different. He took it carefully from her palm and crunched it between his teeth, noting that while it was like the other treats she brought him before, its taste was subtly different.
"It's a pear," the brown one told him, picking up the brush that his rider had left behind and running it over his back in smooth, even strokes. "They've just ripened. I thought you might like it."
Asfaloth snorted and lifted his head, his ears swinging forward in curiosity as he caught a familiar scent. The golden one did not appear immediately, however, which was confusing.
Laurel didn't notice the stallion's focus of attention, some several feet distant, where the corridor of the stables ended. Her fingers were already playing with Asfaloth's mane, beginning to braid several strands into the intricate herringbone pattern that Niním had shown her.
"Elrond has said that I have learned very quickly," the brown one was saying quietly, her small fingers tugging lightly on his mane. Asfaloth blew a soft breath through his nostrils, cocking his hind leg. He flicked one ear back towards her to listen, keeping the other pointed towards where he knew the golden one was hiding. "Erestor says the same thing. They want to know if I'm happy here." The stallion heard the woman give a horse-like snort. "I should be. Things are much simpler than they were back at home, and everyone has been so good to me. I don't miss home much anymore – except my folks, I do miss them."
Laurel's fingers stilled their braiding and she leaned against Asfaloth's warm hide a moment, simply enjoying the contact with another living being. "Arwen has been so understanding, even though she doesn't know the whole truth. Elrond is patience itself, though honestly I don't know how he does it. Erestor is a bottomless pit of knowledge, and I think he's enjoyed the challenge of trying to teach me all this stuff." She straightened and returned to her braiding, pulling a piece of blue ribbon from the pocket of her dress and tying the end of the braid in a small bow. "Glorfindel is always very kind and never makes me feel like an outsider."
Asfaloth heard the slightest movement from the golden one's position, and his ears perked forward expectantly. He snorted when his rider still did not appear.
"But for all their kindness, I still feel like I don't belong," Laurel continued, dropping her voice to whisper, even though there was no one else around. "Erestor has given me duties in the library, and I help in the garden as much as I can. I spend time with Arwen, Niním, Merelind and the others – they're teaching me how to do stitching and weaving, which I'm hopeless at, but they don't seem to mind. I enjoy spending time with them, and the others." She sighed quietly. "But I'm still alone."
The stallion snorted, turning his head to look at her, and she scratched his inquisitive nose.
"All right, I'm not alone, exactly. How can I be, living in a huge house with all these elves? What I meant was…oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand." She finished the last braid with another ribbon and stepped back to admire her handy work. "You look nice," she said, smiling at her whimsy. "All fancy. Glorfindel should see you now."
Asfaloth rubbed his head against her arm, before turning to look back where his rider was still hiding. He heard the soft, familiar sound of the golden one's tread and realized he was retreating. He whickered softly, ears perked forward hopefully, but his rider did not appear.
"Well, I've got to help Erestor sort some old scrolls," Laurel said, giving the stallion a final pat. "Behave, and don't tell Glorfindel I was here."
Lord Elrond looked up from his reading when a shadow crossed his desk and smiled a greeting to Glorfindel.
"Maur aur, mellonen," he said, putting the book aside after marking his place. "Is there something amiss?"
Glorfindel settled himself comfortably in the chair across from Elrond's desk. "Perhaps. I overheard something today that I thought you should hear."
Elrond's eyebrows lifted slightly and he folded his hands on his desk. "Oh?"
"Aye," Glorfindel nodded, and without preamble, explained the one-sided conversation Laurel had held with his horse. When he finished, he sat back in his chair expectantly.
The Lord of Imladris frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is time to send Arwen on a visit to see her grandparents," he said. "I think having Laurel accompany her would be appropriate, and give her the opportunity to meet others, now that she has settled to her life here."
Glorfindel smiled wryly. "You are thinking perhaps the Lady Galadriel can help?"
Elrond nodded. "That occurred to me," he said, smiling as well. "There is no harm in trying, at least."
Maur aur, mellonen = Good morning, my friend.