AN HEROIC LOVE

Chapter Four

Elladan's Tale

To Adar and Naneth does Elladan of Imladris send greetings:

By now, you are aware of the choice that Elrohir and I made. Please know that for both of us, it was neither a painless nor ill-considered decision. Also know before anything else that but for your inevitable sorrow, we were both happy and content with the choice that we made. The reasons are many, and you will read them all in due course, but for my part, it was the love of a woman that at last sealed my fate.

Adar, you knew her, or knew of her, for it was Gilwen of the Dunedain who captured my heart. At one time she and her kin found refuge in Imladris when their settlement was besieged by orcs. And I had seen her at times when Elrohir and I rode with her father, Gilbarad and the Rangers of the North. Apparently, she had noticed me and liked what she saw.

Soon after you departed, we met again. I was about Elessar's business helping to rebuild Arnor and I had permitted Imladris to be used as a place of meeting for the Councilors of the North Kingdom. Gilwen's father was one of those who rode with us to Rohan and upon his return, and ours, set to work along with many of his kin in the reestablishment of Annúminas as capital of the northern realm.

Many were the times Gilwen accompanied her father to Imladris and she was a great help to us. She was by nature and talent a scholar and organizer and she did much with her quill and her mind to help keep all of our endeavors in good order. Our friendship grew and in a matter of time it deepened and turned into something more. I came to love her and she loved me. For a long time she had loved me and bided her time, a strange thing for a mortal, I thought.

But I will let her tell it. The small book that I have sent is her journal. She wrote in it periodically and I have marked the pages that relate to our relationship. This is the best way, I think, for you to come to know her as best you can and have no doubt that her love for me was as strong as mine for her. Not as Elrond's son did she love me, and not as Lord of Imladris, nor as orc-killer or as brother of Elrohir or even of the King. You will come to see as she saw through her writings.

She had given me permission to send this to you even though it does contain some most personal accounts. Those I have clearly marked and though I have no objection to you or mother's reading of them for they show the height of our love, I will leave it to your discretion.

With that, I ask that you read her words before returning to mine. I have noted under an entry or two the things on which I have comment and you can return to this letter then…

Elrond placed the letter on the table before him and sipped at his wine while he thought of his son. Silently getting up from his chair, he made his way to Celebrían's bedside table and took hold of the portfolio of portraits she had laid there. Moving back to the balcony, he slipped the likenesses of Elladan and Gilwen out of the folder and placed them on the table while he considered them. He then took up the small black book and noted the date of the first marked entry. Four years before the great war. His mind returned to that time as he read…

GILWEN'S JOURNAL

First Entry

TA 3015, The Angle

Perhaps it is a gift of Eru or the Valar – a gift to the remnant of the Faithful of Numenor, that in the face of all else, a glimmer of hope still underlies the sober practicality of our lives. Today I was blessed by the reawakening of that hope and I reel expectant, buoyant, enlivened by the possibility that we will see the end of these dark days. I saw it myself in the fiery eyes of an elf.

He rode into our settlement with father and several other Rangers and at first I thought he was one of them. All had dismounted and his back was turned to me. When he removed the hood of his cloak and I saw his dark hair, albeit longer than most, he looked as any other. Even when he removed the cloak fully it was hard to discern his race. He was clad all in black; tunic, legging and boots, and though slightly taller and lither, seemed no different than many others of our kindred.

And then he turned around, and I took a long breath. He was so like but so unlike any Ranger I have seen. His clothes bespoke a Ranger, and his weaponry. His form was full in the shoulders and tapered to a slim waist and powerful legs. A warrior's body.

But his face. His face was as fair as a child's and as hairless. His nose was long, but fine and the philtrum was prominent as if steering my sight to his beautiful mouth. His lips are as full and as bowed as a babe's. Slightly parted, and I saw his breath as he exhaled.

But oh Eru, it is his eyes that rivet me. Gray, like ours, but then dark and they shine with such fire. I do not know whether it is battle lust or the hard ride or maybe even starlight which fuels such a flame, but I have never seen a being of such vitality.

He moved with practice and confidence. I saw him lay down his pack and his weapons and let out a long sigh. How much he must relish the relative safety of our camp! He bantered lightly with another, so like to him it confused me, but then as he turned slightly, his long hair parted and I saw the small point on his ear.

As I looked from one to the other, I realized then who I looked upon. The tales of the twin sons of Elrond were oft spoke among our people. Their fierceness in battle, their loyalty to the Dunedain, and their protection or our Chieftains over many generations, Lord Aragorn just the latest of these.

These two were Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris; but which was the twin who held fire in his eyes?

I have seen elves before – those messengers from Rivendell or Mithlond or the wanderers in traveling companies that traverse our lands. They are tall and thin and reserved.

But this elf was not like to them. He is formidable – in body, in spirit. He holds fire in his being and I am captivated.

Later I learn that it was Elladan who had captured my attention. His brother is beautiful also and I can tell, gentle and kind, but there is a vivacity about the elder twin that animates my thoughts this night and makes it hard for me to sleep.

I give thanks to Eru for bestowing on me, on us, this glimmer of hope, of life, of a possible end to this darkness…

Elrond sat back in his chair and tried to picture his son as Gilwen did. It was true that of the two, Elladan possessed a certain vitality, a sureness of purpose, the need to know and enjoy all of the gifts of Endor. He was a natural leader with a comity that his more introspective brother lacked. Elladan was also practical by nature and well-organized, traits Elrond recognized as like to Elros as to himself. He thought it no wonder that a girl of the Dunedain would be taken with him. He took up the book and read more…

GILWEN'S JOURNAL

Second Entry

TA 3017, Imladris

Our settlement was beset by orcs this day and hurriedly we made our escape to this refuge. The scouts had given us plenty of warning, but there were too many of the foul creatures for us to fend off, so we took flight, deserting our home and coming to the only place of sure safety in the northlands: Rivendell.

The way into the elven realm was all but hidden, and perilous. The steep descent was laden with switchbacks and the trail was narrow. We came through the trees at the head of the path and The Last Homely House came into my sight. I was awe-struck, it was so beautiful and at one with its surroundings – I have never seen its like before.

The buildings seemed to emanate from the very land itself. Carved pillars and balconies, open porches and gazeboes, all but unseen within the rocks and trees, grasses and gardens. And scattered throughout were waterfalls and small streams, which winded their way through the valley and its structures.

The vista before me and the endless soothing sounds of flowing water was as a balm to my soul and for the first time in days uncounted, I feel as if I can truly breathe.

We were welcomed by Lord Elrond, who is an elf of such majesty that it is difficult to look upon him. A world shown in his eyes, the ages made manifest in such a short glance. He is a serious elf, as well he should be under such circumstance, but he evinced such a kindness it made feel utterly safe and welcome in this realm.

Standing beside the great lord were the brethren Elrondion. It has been two years since I last saw them. They were both dressed alike, in ranger black but for their jerkins which were the deepest of midnight blue. Their obsidian hair was plaited in one large braid which was knotted in back and hung down to their waists. With the hair held back this way, their facial features were enhanced. Their skin was pulled taut over cheeks and jaw, the latter set firmly in the image of their sire.

Their lips were drawn in a tight line, neither frowning nor smiling, but it could not conceal the fullness of the bottom or the perfect bow of the top. And their noses were faultless in length and in broadness and I could picture the brothers in battle, nostrils flaring.

I then beheld their eyes, the silver gray of the Peredhil, made all the more prominent by the surrounding ebon hair and dark clothing. It was a magnificent combination and though our people too have gray eyes and dark hair, ours is neither so dark nor are our eyes so mithril.

My own eyes darted back and forth between them trying to discern the elder and then I saw the small flicker which told me indeed who was Elladan. He was casting his sight throughout our small assembly when his eyes alighted on mine. For a moment, the small flicker sharpened and passed into my being with naught but a glance. He cocked his head for a moment, brow furrowing and then his eyes moved away and through the rest of our midst.

We were made comfortable in a small set of cottages near the eastern border of Rivendell and the next few days were spent in the very living of it – bathing and clothes cleaning, eating, caring for the younger ones all the while planning for our return to our home. The twins paid one visit, wherein formal introductions were made. Father was the one who escorted them around our cottages and they came upon me as I was recording our exile and keeping the ledgers of our meager stores.

Here I recreate the ensuing conversation as best as I recall it.

"Ah, there you are," said father as he turned to the brethren. "She is ever found with her nose in a book or with a quill in her hand."

"Elladan, Elrohir, this is my daughter, Gilwen. She was seven and ten years of age when first you visited our settlement and now counts nineteen years of the sun."

The twins regarded me, Elrohir looking over my shoulder at what I had written.

"So you are a scholar, then?" he asked.

"Not necessarily, though I do love books and tales, my Lord," I replied. "I do what I can at need for our people. Today, this is my task."

"You are writing of your people's plight, my Lady?"

"Yes, I chronicle our people's history, keep ledgers and sometimes I even write for myself. I enjoy the feel of the quill against my fingers and flow of ink across the page. I thank you for your inquiry, Lord Elrohir."

"How did you know my brother's name?" asked the elder twin, turning his attention to me. "How did you know that he is Elrohir?"

"Because I know that you are Lord Elladan." was my reply. I sought the flame in his eyes and having seen the small spark, I let them drop to the scroll I was working on.

Slightly taken aback, Elladan responded, "So you have insight as well, my Lady, for few even among our own household can tell us apart."

I smiled up at him and shrugged my shoulders, "It is not so hard a thing, my Lord, if one just watch for a while."

"So, you have been watching me…us?"

Before he could finish the thought, father drew him away to meet with some others, but as he walked away, Elladan glanced back over his shoulder, a quizzical smile on his face.

We will soon leave the sanctuary of Rivendell, I think. Our home in the Angle is now as secure as it ever was, but it is even clearer to me now that these unsettled times will not last. I saw it for myself in the purposeful eyes of an Elf-lord and no less in the tenacious eyes of his son…

Elrond rubbed the bridge of his nose, looked at Gilwen's portrait, and tried to remember her sojourn in Imladris. Try as he might, he could not recall her specifically, though he did recall her father as one who rode with Aragorn often. There were so many who were sheltered at The Last Homely House. He squinted again, then decided that he as a very old elf and tired. He put down the book and took himself to bed, laying at Celebrían's side. Though his mind reeled, the Elf-lord fell into reverie more quickly and soundly than he had in many days.