Chapter 4 – Butterflies Bewitched
That evening when Aragorn was back at the House, Elrond was walking through the entrance hall when he caught sight of him. The young man was in the midst of a fairly large group of young elves, all laughing and pointing at him. No wonder, for he had a flock of multicoloured butterflies all dancing around him and twitching as they landed on his dark hair.
"Aragorn!" Elrond called, with a frown on his face. He turned and left his friends, coming slowly up to the elf-lord. "Aragorn," he repeated, but more quietly. Then he was suddenly lost for words "err… why?"
Aragorn smiled. "I do not know, Ada," he replied. Just as I came back I realised that the butterflies were following me, and they will not go away." Aragorn felt unhappy as he said that, for they did not annoy him, rather he loved them; and they were quite amusing too.
"Hmmm… talk about 'following'." Elrond looked at the butterflies with narrowed eyes. About twenty of them were fluttering quite contentedly about Aragorn, showing off their pretty colours and flapping their luxurious wings, as if trying to impress him.
"Aragorn, I need you to come with me," he whispered. He led Aragorn around the corner and out of sight from everyone else. Obediently he followed and allowed Elrond to stretch out to one of the butterflies in the air. He saw it quiver somewhat unnaturally and then flee to him, joining the others very close to his head.
"It is as I feared," Elrond murmured. He looked at Aragorn. "These butterflies have been charmed to you."
"What?" Aragorn exclaimed, "Someone has charmed them to me?" Elrond inclined his head. "But why? Why would somebody do that?" He eyed one of the butterflies suspiciously.
"Do not worry, my son," Elrond laughed, "they are not done by evil magic, and you will not be harmed. Let me see if I can remove the spell. Stay still now." Aragorn watched as he held out his hands on either side of his head and closed his eyes. He muttered a quick counter-curse in elvish under his breath, and then looked up to see if anything had changed. Nothing had. The butterflies were still attracted to Aragorn, and he himself felt dimly sleepy.
"Right…" Elrond mused. He tried again. "I release you," he stated in elvish. If anything the butterflies circulated round him faster, as if laughing at the elf-lord's attempt. He sighed in annoyance.
"Okay, you may feel a bit dazed after this, but I need to try to detach this charm, so just hold on." Aragorn nodded at the warning but was slightly alarmed. Then Elrond started to murmur long and low, like a tide of elvish words, clearly a form of the magic he was trying to do. Suddenly Aragorn felt an enormous temptation to close his eyes, to waft away in a warm breeze, to sleep… how nice would it be to sleep…
"Aragorn!"
He awoke as abruptly as if a bucket of water had been thrown all over him. Elrond was staring at him strongly but in concern, and he found that his knees were buckling from his desire to sleep, and he had a strange smile on his face.
"I am afraid the butterflies still like you," Elrond told him, bringing him to his senses. Aragorn gazed up and saw that the butterflies seemed to be infatuated with him, rushing around him and nestling in his hair like they adored him. Aragorn grinned.
"Let us try again," Elrond said calmly, though he was obviously being tested by this. With hands on either side of him again he began to talk softly again, leading a trail of flowing words around him and wrapping him up… in such a nice warm blanket… what a lovely idea to go to sleep… all he had to do was to close his eyes… and he would fall into slumber… and dream… so deep… so nice… just sleep…
Elrond suddenly shook him so violently that Aragorn thought that he would topple over. Bleary eyed he peered at his foster father, who was watching him anxiously and propping him up on his own two feet. He still felt extremely drowsy and could barely be bothered to stand up, but then a flurry of lilac and cream passed over his sight. He knew the butterflies were still there.
This time when Elrond muttered his elvish enchantment, it was not gentle as he had been, but strong and determined and there were fires in his eyes. They burned into Aragorn and left little marks even when his eyelids had drooped down again. But he did not sleep, for he felt as if he was being attacked by an angry wind and tossed and turned about.
Elrond's enchantment reached its climax, and his voice sounded in his ears as if he was roaring with fury, instead of humbly speaking. It made Aragorn's body tremble, and he wondered what was happening. Surely the charm would be lifted now.
The spell ceased and Aragorn looked at Elrond. He saw him focus above his head and then close his eyes before silently mouthing 'no…' in despair.
For a moment it seemed as if Elrond was thinking very hard, and searching his mind for anything that could work. Then he opened his eyes. "I have one last idea. If this does not work then I do not know what will. It seems like every single thing has been done to protect this spell." He fixed sharply on Aragorn, preparing himself for this, and he avoided his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Elrond began to chant his spell, the words of the elven tongue enriched by his natural accent. He stared strongly at Aragorn, who, although he thought it was best that the butterflies went, was not entirely agreeing on setting them free. They seemed to remind him of something, something happy and something beautiful, but he could not quite put his finger on what, or who.
Elrond's voice became more forceful, and Aragorn watched him work with added determination. Inside himself, Aragorn laughed. He knew Elrond would not rest until he had got rid of the charm, but whoever had set it in the first place evidently knew well how he worked. If Elrond could not remove… well, who could? The elf who had performed this charm on the butterflies – and maybe him – must be exceptionally skilled and wise. He was intrigued to know who it was.
Elrond spoke the final word of his spell, and positively glared at the butterflies above Aragorn.
"It did not work did it?" Aragorn guessed. Elrond did not say anything but ran a hand tiredly over his eyes. Aragorn glanced up and saw the butterflies flap their speckled wings teasingly for him. How could he not love them?
"Aragorn, let me just feel the charm once more," Elrond asked. Aragorn nodded meekly, but honestly had no idea what the lord wanted to do. But he merely opened up his hands to the butterflies, which were terrified of him, and closed his eyes. By the changing expressions on his face, Aragorn worked out that he must be sensing some kind of aura.
"Ai!" He shouted suddenly in triumph, and his eyes opened and shone brightly. "It is simple. So simple. Why did I not see it before?" he added. Shaking his head he said to Aragorn, "All it needs is for the person who set it to come and take it away again." He smiled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I should have known all along. This charm has been so intricately made. There is no other way."
"Then there is no hope? We will not be able to take the butterfly charm away?" Aragorn could not stop himself from smiling.
"Oh, there are ways in which we can find the one who did this to undo it again." He eyed Aragorn and smiled. "Come with me. It is not wise to talk out here," he whispered after.
He walked a few paces down the corridor and then turned right into his room. Holding the door open he let Aragorn in, and then firmly shut it again. He motioned for Aragorn to sit down in a leather-skin chair opposite his desk, and he sat down behind it. For a while he watched Aragorn's butterflies as they flitted around him joyfully.
Sighing he looked to Aragorn. "Alas, my son, I understand the way of the charm, and who has made it. The essence of its maker is unique, so beautiful and delicate, yet so deep and cleverly made. I half wish I did not understand it."
"Then you know who it is?" Aragorn asked eagerly. But to his disappointment his foster father merely sighed and looked downcast.
"You must understand, Aragorn," he explained, "that you cannot tell who has cast a spell; you do not receive a name or an image in your mind of the one responsible. What you can however find, are clues to who has done this, for example the way in which they have set the spell, the way in which they work, and the way they have protected it from removal- as I myself have just discovered. By making a spell, you leave a mark of yourself.
"Now I have my suspicions about this, for I can see that the elf that has done the charm is very skilled, and works in an extremely detailed way. Everything has been thought of, and the charm has been beautifully set. Even I am, how do I put it, -ah yes, secretly impressed by the craft here performed. Make sure not to tell anyone, Aragorn, but I doubt that I could have done a better job on this."
Aragorn looked grim. "Then you do not know who it is?"
"Ah…" Elrond said, giving him a very significant look. At this Aragorn felt something rise up inside of him. "Remember, my child, that I have seen the work of every hand in this valley, left and right, and I do not forget things willingly. Many elves here I have watched grow up from tiny infants. Like a fingerprint, a work of magic is recognisable of the elf who has done it. No matter how clever or how deep their knowledge runs, they cannot escape this revealing of themselves, dark or fair.
"And-" Elrond added as Aragorn opened his mouth to ask for the third time, "yes, I do have my guesses. You for one should understand that I treasure highly beautiful work, and once seen, never lost, they say." He paused and stared into the air, as if picturing some scene long ago.
"Well, that is good then," Aragorn said cautiously. "So how will you find the one who has made this charm? Could they release it tonight? Or does it take a long time?"
Elrond dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "No, no; even the most complicated knot of incantations can be undone in less than a minute. If I am right in my assumptions, all we need is t-"
There came a sudden knock on the elf-lord's wooden door. As it opened he flapped his arms and hissed to Aragorn not to mention in the slightest what they had been talking about. He marvelled how quickly Elrond managed to recompose himself to face the newcomer, when he alone knew that his mind was still solidly stuck on the matter of the butterflies and their mysterious magic.
It was certainly not who Aragorn had been expecting, not that he had had any idea who to expect as he remained blankly silent, but definitely not Arwen. She swept in with her eyes unmoving on her father, clearly not seeing Aragorn at all, her long hair which was down winding down her shoulders in waves and her dress moving with a faint swish. She seemed almost on a different planet. "Ada, I ca-"
"Just the person I needed." Just the person he needed?
Elrond interrupted his daughter in a meaningful voice, and a dry smile clambered up his face. Arwen paused, utterly bewildered, her face blank as a sheet of parchment. Raising his eyebrows Elrond flicked his eyes across the room, indicating to Aragorn. In surprise she turned to look that way, and her eyes fell upon him.
The butterflies were still dancing madly about his head and zooming happily into his vision and whirring past his ears. In that instance Aragorn deemed that she turned a faintly paler colour, a sickening trait of guilt bubbling up in her. Aragorn looked to Elrond, but he was still looking at him, and had obviously not noticed this. He glanced back to Arwen, and he thought he saw her eyes water pleadingly, asking desperately for him to forgive her.
With his eyes still on him, Elrond said, "Arwen, please correct me if I am wrong, but I strongly believe that it is you who has put this charm on my poor unfortunate son." Blinking slowly he turned to Arwen. She continued to stare at Aragorn like she had never seen him before in her life.
Outside the open door a group of elves went past. A couple glanced in and caught sight of Aragorn and his crazily circling butterflies. One tapped the rest of his friends on their shoulders and the whole group turned interestedly round to avidly watch them.
"Please shut the door," Elrond said in a voice which suggested that nothing had happened. Arwen twirled round and pushed the door close. Her father sighed tiredly as if he was mortally bored and fed up with telling a young child off for an unnumbered time. But he also seemed sad that it was his daughter who had done this.
With his head wearily in his hands he said, "Arwen, please lift your charm before I have to force you to." Aragorn watched as she walked towards him and he leapt up as if scalded. But with her back to her father she smiled warmly and took his hand, leading him over into a corner of the room along with her pretty butterflies.
Out of the corner of his eye Aragorn saw Elrond following this with one eyebrow raised in open absurdness. Then Arwen moved into his vision and blocked everything else out. When he was trapped between two walls she leant right close to him, looking down to the side, and whispered, "close your eyes."
The last sight Aragorn had was of her bringing her eyes up to his and suddenly, unexpectedly setting his heart on fire and his whole body ablaze with passion for her. Then all went black. He felt Arwen find both of his hands and unnecessarily press herself firmly to his body. Aragorn could sense Elrond think that this was just ridiculous.
Arwen leant so close that he could feel her hot breath on his cheeks and smell it sweetly of honey. Then she began to murmur a long trail of soft slurred elven words, sending Aragorn off into another dazed sleep, so that he was quite apart from everything else, and drowning out of knowledge timelessly. Then-
"Arwen!" Aragorn snapped out of his dream and sneakily peeked out of a half-closed eye.
"Ada…!" Arwen shot back frustratedly, turning to glare at him. In this way Aragorn got to see Elrond, his nerve ends being stretched by the time that this was taking. For a moment the two elves fixed on each other, then Arwen's grip on his hands tightened and she began to turn back. He shut his eyes again. Arwen went back to speaking the words in an attractively low voice, but this time Aragorn managed to stay conscious. He still did not catch any of the murmured words, for maybe such was the likeness of counter spells, but he did hear one: "meleth". She had said it so lovingly.
But then suddenly Aragorn felt a wonderful lightness in his stomach as if he was shooting upwards and flying exceptionally high. Rainbows flashed into his sight and his eyes opened. Just in time he was to see the butterflies swoop over to Arwen, linger above her for a moment, then as she took one hand and blew over her palm, they flitted away out the window on her command, and out of sight. Elrond jumped up to watch their direction as they finally disappeared. Aragorn felt overwhelmingly relieved, although he had been rather fond of the friendly creatures.
"Aragorn, my dear come here to me," Elrond summoned gently. Swallowing, Aragorn pulled himself out of Arwen's grasp and slipped past her. Her face was pale. When Aragorn came to stand in front of Elrond's desk, he left the window and walked round the furniture to him. Holding his hands out on either side of Aragorn he checked to see if all of the charm had left.
"Ada, do you not trust me to remove my own magic!" Arwen suddenly called out, a little hysterically. Aragorn looked round at her; on the first glance she was just annoyed, but underneath all that he saw that she was hurt; a lot.
Elrond pursed his lips but decided not to retaliate. "My son, you are free to go." He gave him a smile, and Aragorn recognised it as a cue to leave. Without objection he went over to the door. Yet as he touched the handle he heard Elrond move quickly over to Arwen.
"What do you think you were doing!" he hissed to her. Aragorn opened the door as silently as possible, knowing that he should not be hearing their conversation. But he was extremely tempted to hear more.
"…putting a charm on Aragorn!" He heard Arwen's young soft voice tenderly speak.
"I did not mean to Ada!" she pleaded desperately.
"How can you not meant to!" Elrond exclaimed, not harshly, but almost out of grief. Arwen tried to reply but he cut in again. "You will apologise to Aragorn at first chance tomorrow, whatever your excuses. And do not look at me like that!..."
Aragorn swallowed as he closed the door behind him. He thought that he had listened to quite enough of his foster father's and Arwen's argument to be deeply intrigued by the results of his eavesdropping.