-Note- Thanks to everyone who responded to my question- translations will stay at the bottom of the page. This is the first time I've really had to use Elvish- your input helped me greatly! More Sindarin in this chapter, if you see any errors, please let me know!
-Disclaimer- Please see chapter 1.
-edit- Oct 30- Elvish fixed!
An Elvenking
The torch-lit passage was narrow and dank, twisting and winding past outcroppings of bare rock. A greater light appeared from around a bend, silvery voices echoed softly off the walls; in a moment, he had turned the corner.
The stone hall was hung with Elven tapestries; Elves sat in chairs or lay back on the polished stone floor. Quartz-flecked columns were carved in Elven fashion; trees, glittering with dewy jewels and bird eyes.
It was, of course, paltry in comparison to the caverns of Nargothrond, and, he guessed, Menegroth. These halls were a place for protection and hiding; improved and chipped at over long millennia.
"My lord," said Rúmil. Glorfindel started. The Elves surveyed him curiously, some waved. He recognized several.
"Yes?"
"Lord Thranduil wishes to greet you."
Glorfindel sighed, took stock of himself. He had not slept in over day, nor had he changed his clothes; his suitcase was beginning to drag, and he knew Alyaran was hungry.
"Can I not make myself presentable, first?" he asked.
Rúmil nodded. "I will show you to the guest quarters.
"My thanks."
Rúmil led him out of the main hall, down a sloping path. Carved, wooden doors appeared every few hundred paces- living quarters, he supposed.
His room was at the end of the corridor. It was small, comfortable, and unsettlingly windowless, though it brightened after Rúmil hung a lantern from the ceiling and placed another on a table. The walls were smooth and painted. Above the bed, a fresco depicted the forging of Narsil.
"You all seem to have been busy," he remarked, turning his attention to another painting.
Rúmil laughed. "We've had a bit of spare time."
"I can see that," he answered dryly.
"I will call for bath water," said Rúmil, still smiling. Glorfindel thanked him, and he left, shutting the door behind him.
It wasn't until after Rúmil had gone that Glorfindel realized they had not been speaking in Elvish.
He frowned. Was he really so far removed from his kin?
Alyaran sniffed at the foreign room, his tail thumping against the elegantly carved table, a relic from the Third Age. It, and most of the furniture in the room, had been carefully preserved, even as an item in a museum would be cared for. The table rattled, the lantern on it flickered.
Glorfindel sighed. Had he intentionally isolated himself? Had he grown so accustomed to the ways of Men?
Alyaran turned to him, bumped his head on the bed frame.
Glorfindel supposed he had done all of those things.
Someone knocked on the door. He opened it. Two Elves, both Sindar, stood before him, a man and a woman, bearing large cauldrons of water.
"Hîr Glorfindel?"º asked the woman.
"Mae govannen, minno," he said hastily, moving aside. They carried the basins through his room, stopped at another door. He rushed to open it. They entered the next room, poured the water into a stone tub in a raised platform against the far wall. When they had done, he thanked and dismissed them.
"Hîr nin, nin iston?" asked the elleth. Glorfindel felt a pang of guilt.
"Iston nîf lîn," he replied hesitantly. She smiled.
"Al-gosta le. Im Idhreneth, o Imladris," she said.
Glorfindel grinned, thought he remembered her. "Hannan le."
She nodded, bowed quickly, and they left.
(l)
He bathed, fed his dog with the food he had packed. A set of clothes had been laid out on his bed for him; a tunic and trousers of soft, silvery-green material. He considered it for a moment, turned to his open suitcase, then back to the Elven garb.
He sighed, took a last look at his suitcase, and dressed himself in the clothes he had been given. When he had finished, he braided his hair in front of the washroom mirror (something that took longer than it should have- he had not worn braids for many years). His ears felt strangely exposed; he had grown used to keeping his hair down and over them. Shrugging it off, he left his room.
By now, he was sure the evening meal was about to start. He made his way to the main hall, where the long tables were crowded and full of food. At the far side, opposite the outside entrance, he made out Lord Thranduil in embroidered green robes sitting at the center of a table, flanked by a son on one side and an empty place at the other.
Glorfindel stifled a groan.
The son (he did not know which, for all of Thranduil's sons were similar of face) met Glorfindel's gaze, whispered sideways to his father. Thranduil looked up from his plate.
Ah.
(l)
After dinner and small talk, Glorfindel was happy to leave. He had become acclimatized to the fast-paced life in the city, and he found himself feeling more out of place in Thranduil's halls than he had in his apartment.
He was reading in his room when a messenger knocked on his door; he was to meet Lord Thranduil in his study. He followed the Elf through the labyrinthine corridors until they reached a less crowded wing of the caverns; finally, they stopped at an elaborate set of oak doors. The messenger knocked.
"Minno,"º called a voice from inside. They entered, the messenger excused himself.
Lord Thranduil was sitting behind a large, formidable desk. Behind him was a tapestry of a wood- Doriath, Glorfindel thought. Shelves carved into the stone were lined with books, statuettes, and several figures that looked distinctly like children's toys. Glorfindel smiled in spite of himself; one of Thranduil's two sons had remained in Arda, and he imagined that fond memories accompanied each plaything.
"Mae govannen, hîr Thranduil," said Glorfindel, bowing. Thranduil rose from behind his desk; he had taken off his customary circlet, and still wore the forest green robes he had had on at dinner.
To Glorfindel's surprise, Thranduil did not respond in Elvish. His command of the Mannish tongue was obviously less than superb; it was apparent, however, that he had been learning.
"Welcome, Lord Glorfindel, and rise. It has been long years since last we met."
Glorfindel's smile widened. "You speak their language well, lord."
Thranduil grimaced. "It is not as graceful as our own. But you seem to like it well enough."
Glorfindel ignored the hidden barb. "It is very kind of you to welcome me here. I am grateful."
"It is naught; we accept all of our kin," he replied smoothly. Thranduil seated himself once more, gestured to Glorfindel to do the same. He pulled up a comfortable, wooden chair.
"I'm sure you do not invite all visitors into your study."
"You are right. Rúmil has delegated to me the task of explaining recent events."
"I had hoped I would hear."
"Listen, then. A fortnight past, Men came close to our settlement. It rarely happens, but we are prepared for it nonetheless." He paused, as if to search for an appropriate word. "They...harmed several of our trees. Some of our oldest now lie dying."
Glorfindel closed his eyes. "I am sorry."
"As are we. To so prematurely lose trees we planted..."
It occurred to Glorfindel that Thranduil was looking for something. He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Lord, I cannot apologize on behalf of these Men."
"You live with them." Accusingly.
Ah.
Was he now some kind of convert? He did not think so. He had not traded his Elvish identity for a Mannish one. He lived and worked with Men, but he could not be blamed of being one; did Thranduil think he had forsaken his people? Was Thranduil right? Glorfindel got defensive.
"Did you call me here to berate me, lord? I cannot apologize for them, but I have given Men enough of a chance to know that most are unlike those that have violated your woods," he said angrily. "You will only have to tolerate me for two more days; I beg you to let me stay here in peace."
When he opened his eyes, Thranduil was staring intently at him. Millennia of watching the land of his youth decline into waste and being made an outcast by the Atani had tempered the fierce pride his eyes had once held; he seemed to frown out of habit now, the days of joy and celebration long past. Glorfindel felt a sudden spasm of regret.
"I did not call you here to...berate you. I have told you what you wanted to know. You will doubtless see these injuries done to us."
"I shall, but if it is a healer you seek, I can tell you that he passed over the sea long ago."
"You need not be so bitter."
There was silence.
"I meant no disrespect," Glorfindel began hestitantly.
"I am not offended. I have known you long enough. I trust you will be asking after Celeborn, now?"
"Yes, if I may."
"He is not here. I will give you directions to his home; doubtless, you will want to see him before you leave."
He opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a map. He handed it to Glorfindel.
"Take this; you have better need of it than I."
(l)
Thanks for reading!
Translations:
º "Hîr Glorfindel?": Lord Glorfindel?
º "Mae govannen, minno,": Well met, come inside.
º "Hîr nin,nin iston?": My lord, do you remember me? lit. do you know me?
º elleth: Elf, female
º "Iston nîf lîn,": I recognize you lit. I know your face
º "Al gosta-le. Im Idhreneth, o Imladris,": Worry not. lit. fear not I am Idhreneth, of Imladris.
º "Hannan le": Thank you.
º "Minno!,": Enter!
º "Mae govannen, hîr Thranduil,": Well met, Lord Thranduil.
Review Responses:
Stuntz: Hee hee...this chapter is what happens next! :D And next chapter, he takes a trip to see Celeborn.
Dark Borg Drone: Ah! I'm so sorry! Printers can be terrible, sometimes. I hope everything works out for you!
Kazbels: Thanks for the answer! Your response was a great relief! :)
Crystal113: /flinch/ Ah! You're right! That's a mistake. I'm going to run off and fix that as soon as I'm done here. Thank you!
Cat: Thanks for the input! I'm a stranger to Elvish, obviously. :P I'm glad you like Alyaran- I think he's become my favorite character. :D
Aranel3: Well, life goes on, even if you are hiding away from pesky Men... :P Children and young adults are my favorite people to write.
Erestor: Ooooh! I didn't think about him squishing Alyaran! That would be horrible! And don't worry, I'm not offended. This story certainly doesn't have much of a nail-biting, edge-of-the-chair climax, but I do have a Plan. We've made it over the hill, chapterwise, and I'd estimate no more than 5-7 chapters left. :D I'm excited about my ending!