Title: The Greatest Burden
Author: Haleth Broadbent
Summary: No one knows the secret that the lord of Imladris is carrying. Since the death of his twin he has been the sole carrier of this burden, but all hell is about to break loose. A discovery is made that will shake the foundations of the world. During the founding of Imladris.
Declaimer: If I was Tolkien, would I be wasting my time here?
Rating: PG-13 for later chapters
Time: When Imladris was being built and only the guard and scholars inhabited the valley.
After Thought: I will refer to Elros as Elrond because that is who everyone assumes him to be. Later I will change this but for clarity's sake I will stay with Elrond.
: Celebrian's Letter :
The Lord of Imladris sighed and closed his account book with a slow hand. He loved the feeling of a job well done and the rows of perfect figures were certainly something to be proud of. Over the years of trying to make Elrond's habits his own, Elros had finally discovered the scholarly part of him. The part he called, his Elrond side. Elros has grown so accustomed to being called Elrond that he never thought of himself as anyone else except in the deepest hours of his dreaming. Recalled to the present by a dry cough from his steward, Elros looked over at him.
Erestor was in the corner putting the finishing touches to a work schedule that had become necessary as the population of Rivendell had grown.
More elves meant more buildings and more buildings needed more land and more land meant the clearing or building around of more trees. Elrond had spent the previous week working over blue-prints, going without sleep and very little food. Erestor had left him alone knowing that Elrond worked the way he liked best and no amount of annoying, if well meaning, badgering could pull him away before Elrond was ready. The Peredhel had slept for a full twenty-four hours afterward and raided the kitchen in the middle of the night when most of the kitchen staff was mediating or tending to quiet nightly tasks. Two jars of blackberry jam were missing come morning.
"Have you found something for the soldiery to do with themselves while the new school rooms are being fitted out?" Erestor asked without looking up. He dipped his quill pen and drabbed it against the inkwell lip three exact times before beginning to write again.
"They are carrying on as they usually do, protecting the borders," Elrond answered calmly, "why do you ask?"
"Because they have been trying to make some sort of 'warrior's hall' out of the largest school room. I simply won't have it, Elrond. I will not see Imladris turned into some common barracks." Erestor's kindly eyes assumed a steely expression.
Elrond laughed out right and patted his friend's shoulder consolingly, "Poor old Erestor, never happy unless you have something to complain about."
"That's not true," Erestor set his pen down and scanned the schedule before him, "I like order and precision. We only have so much of it here, and I like to preserve it as best I can. I've only just now finished repairing 'The Noldor and Their History'."
"And is it ready for the shelves once again?" Elrond asked, perching on the edge of the Steward's large desk. He began rifling through the papers that were arranged in neat little piles.
"No, please don't do that Elrond--" Erestor snatched at a letter Elrond held in his hands, "That is mine!" he said hiding it behind his back.
Arching a brow Elrond leaned over and said, "Then why does it have my name on it?"
"Does it? I didn't see that. I didn't see your name," Erestor said, 'No. Indeed, I am sure I didn't see your name."
"Erestor, what are you hiding from me?" Elrond demanded. A sudden thought made him ask, "Is it from Lothlorien?"
Erestor's expression relaxed and he sighed, grudgingly handing over the missive, "I wanted to read it before you saw it." he said.
Elrond looked at his steward in shocked surprise, "You read my letters? How?"
"Steam them open," the Noldor admitted sullenly.
"No wonder they're always so wrinkled," Elrond said, the wool fully lifted from his eyes. He punched Erestor's shoulder and return with quick steps to his own desk, "And I always thought the carrier was sloppy with his job. I feel heartily sorry for blaming him all this time. Of course, I never could remember his name, it's much easier to blame you."
Erestor gave his lord a confused glance, "Then you're not angry?"
Elrond looked up from the letter distractedly, "Hmmm-- What? Did you say something?"
"Never mind," the steward said, rolling his eyes. He gathered his things, "I'll see you at dinner."
Elrond did not reply, his brow furrowed as he read the letter. Erestor could see it was a long one too. He sighed and pushed through the carved doors, leaving Elrond alone.
Once Erestor had gone, Elrond swung his legs onto the desk top and leaned back in his chair. The letter was a long one, he might as well be comfortable. It was from Celebrian, the lady princess of Lothlorien herself. The handwriting was small and slanting, but had a round friendly quality about it, which Elrond approved of.
To Elrond, Lord of Imladris, Son of Earndil; Greetings and salutations.
I was very glad to receive your kind letter this past month. I was pleased by your proposal to visit Imladris, of which we've heard so much. My parents have given their consent and even now we are arranging the necessary plans to bring us to you before the summer has begun. That is as much to say, eight weeks.
Elrond nodded to himself. She was very clear and a little boring in her manner of writing. It was all every cool and detached as she explained about the things they would require for their coming. It was a trifle odd for the princess to send such instructions, but not so much that Elrond wondered at it until she addressed the matter herself.
I hope my assuming this task does not rankle with your ideas of the occupations of females. I understand that the world at large believes that women are better suited to other, more traditionally female pursuits. But I feel that it should be clear immediately that I am not so inclined. I have grown among those who believe women to have as great a role in the ruling of a realm as the men. Knowing my parents, you can, no doubt, understand that this is an ideal that both of them approve.
More amused by this little declaration, Elrond moved on through the letter. He was glad to find this little spark of fire in the bland mass of the missive. But as he read the last few lines he found still another facet of the princess's personality. One that was childish, more hesitant.
I come now to the main subject that underlies all of our communications. That of the possibility of a union of marriage between you, my lord Elrond, and myself. I cannot deny that this worries me greatly, not for an fear of you for I have heard nothing but the highest praise. But merely, because I do not know you. I understand this is the reason for our visit and hope that with this time the aforementioned obstacle will be overcome. You will know that a loveless marriage is something that I should wish to avoid at all costs and you in your great wisdom will no doubt agree.
I hope, with all my heart, that we shall be very good friends, at the very least. May Illuvatar guide you and may the sun shine brightly upon your days. Peace,
Princess Celebrian of Lothlorien and Caras Galadhon
Elrond folded the letter more slowly then he had opened it. As his fingers traveled along the creases in the paper he wondered about the young princess. She was a great deal younger then himself and doubtless afraid of him. Her letter was asking him to be gentle with her. If she had sat down and purposed to pen a pleading letter she could not have worded it so sincerely.
"I hope we shall be friends," he mused aloud. A feeling of—he had to call it what it was-- affection bloomed in his heart toward the shy young creature that had penned this letter. Even if she proved to be ugly as a troll and bashful as an ent, he was going to be friends with her. Elrond had learned over the years to get along with just about anyone, but this was going to be different. He smiled as he took his place at the head of the main dinner table.
He might even fall in love with her.
: A Week Later:
"No! That load of boards goes over the south wing!" Elrond had to shout to be heard over the hammers and saws, "Over to the South wing!" he pointed to the confused ellon on the wagon. Seeing the direction that Elrond was pointing, he nodded, a relieved smile on his face and started off that way.
"Now, we need to have these rooms finished by the end of the week," Elrond said returning his attention back to the builder in question, "If they are to be properly prepared for the arrival of the royal family. I wanted that fountain ready to go in before the middle of next week," he went on.
Feredir, the builder, was a long, there was no other word for it, long ellon. He was nearly seven feet tall and so thin you could have blown him over with a breath of wind. He had the misfortune to have stringy red hair and a sour expression on his face at all times. As he listened to his lord's instructions, Feredir's expression became more puckered and sour.
"Do you see what I mean, about the garden and the fountain?" Elrond said.
"Aye, I see it, but it simply won't work," the ellon said, "Because if we started the fountain before the flooring goes in we won't have the room to make for the spring floods. If we build it the way you have it here, when all the snows melt in the mountains and come flooding down your beloved waterfalls, the princess's rooms will be flooded with over a foot of icy cold water."
Elrond bit his lip as he studied the plans, "I see. Yes, you're right.' Elrond shook his head, his expression annoyed, "I don not understand how I could have missed that. Well, go ahead with the flooring first and then we'll know how high the well of the fountain will be. Thank you, Feredir."
"Don't mention it, milord," the Vanyar said, happy to have proved himself right again.
Elrond walked passed the carpenters who were laying the first layers of the canal that would redirect the flow of several small waterfalls through the house complex the better to use in everyday tasks. It was written of the Lord of Imladris, years later, that he was as merry as a summer day, but today his handsome face was creased with frowns and worries. Plans were not going as he had hoped.
The kitchen staff, such as it was, had been complaining of lack of water even though an entire waterfall was suppose to supply all the kitchen's needs. Subsequently, the food had been less then perfect and this had made everyone unhappy. The construction of the royal quarters was two weeks behind schedule, and Elrond was having one of the medical wings refashioned to compensate if they were still unfinished when the party from Lothlorien arrived.
Erestor was going out of his mind with border control as well as managing the accounts and schooling of children that were pouring in everyday. The teachers seemed unaware of where the supplies were being kept, and the children were more keen to explore the realm then to attend studies. Rivendell was built for these kinds of pursuits, but without more people to keep things under control there were more problems then Elrond cared to dwell on.
"Attack! Orcs on the southern lawn!" a terrified voice rang out. Elrond frozen a moment before sprinting toward the house. Everywhere the carpenters ran toward the voice, screams and cries growing.
Bolting out of his chambers, Hadhafang in his grip, Elrond lead the way around the house where all the elves were fleeing. Some were bleeding and other were bearing up those who had been hurt. But still more were left, helpless on the lawn. Gathering a small group of the builders behind him Elrond edged around the house and saw the Orcs running all over the beautiful lawn, their black and filthy limbs twisted into grotesque shapes. They were making a steady advance toward the house but luckily no one was in their way. Elrond felt rage boiling up in him, where the hell were the border guards?
A second later, Erestor whirled around the corner, his throwing knives sliding into his hands from their hidden holders concealed in his sleeves. Coming to Elrond's side he said, "There are only about fifteen of them."
"And the people?" Elrond rasped out, "Are any of them hurt?"
"I've only seen superficial wounds, but who knows," the Noldor said acidly, "The attack was so sudden."
"We'll go at it from here," Elrond said, "You take half of the men and go for the left flank and we'll come around behind you. I want them as far away from the house as possible. It will not be defiled by their touch."
"Aye, the Valar take them to the void," Erestor said his dark eyes gleaming. He nodded to his men and they rounded the corner with a war cry.
The orcs, startled for a moment charged to meet the elves. Two fell dead before the two groups met, Erestor's knives having found their hearts before they felt the prick of the blade. Elrond lead his men through the cover of the trees undtil they could come in from the back. Elrond had learned the value of sheath long ago.
Then, while Erestor and his men kept the orcs attention fixed, Elrond and his fellows moved in with grace and precision and took the rear guard unawares. With a thrust, Elrond rammed Hadhafang home into the gut of an orc and twisted it free, letting the body fall to the ground. The orcs realized too late that they were surrounded on all sides by the whirling blades of the elves.
The whistling swords met their targets in the black flesh of the demons and they fell, one by one. Erestor slashed the throat of his attacker with a deft flick of the wrist, the blood spurting over him. Ignoring the loathsome stuff, he turned and saw Elrond facing the largest orc of the bunch.
The thing towered over the elven lord, standing on scarred and mauled legs. The scimitar it held bore a keen edge and it swung the blade with skill that was strange to find in an orc. Elrond blocked and thrust his sword forward but manged only a few faint cuts over the creature's body.
Slowly, the orc was forcing Elrond closer and closer to the edge of the lawn where the land dropped away to the plunging falls. Erestor shouted and forced his way toward his companion, but the fight was still too thick and he was forced to protect himself before he could move forward; the bodies and weapons of the others hiding Elrond from view.
When the way was clear again, Erestor saw that the scimitar was pressing down with increasing force on Hadhafang, but the elven blade did not break. Elrond's feet were on the last inches of the lawn before the great fall to the river below. With light shooting from his eyes, Elrond's jaw clenched and he freed his sword. In the stumble it caused the orc, he swept the foul head from the shoulders, the corpse falling with a sickening thud at Elrond's feet.
He stood over the body, chest heaving, black blood dripping from the blade in his hand. Erestor caught his breath at the sight, but then plunged froward for blood, red and thick, was rapidly staining the sleeve of Elrond's left arm.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
'What of the others? Did we lose anyone?" Elrond said, his eyes dimming back to their calm grey, "The civilians need tending too."
"You need tending too," Erestor said, "Your arms badly cut and you're bleeding all over like a stuck boar."
"Don't worry about that, I'll be fine," Elrond looked around the glade, "Where are the border guard? This should have never happened! Countless innocents, children and women could have been killed because of these!'
"I'll find out, but Elrond, you're arm!" Erestor insisted, reaching for the wounded limb. To his surprised Elrond wrenched away angrily.
"I'll see to it myself. Have the wounded taken to the kitchen...no, I forgot they don't have water...uh, take them to the barracks and have a temporary ward erected. I'll be there in a moment. Have the men clear these corpses up and burn them down the valley, I won't have there bodies staining the land more."
"Yes, sir," Erestor watched Elrond walk back to the house, his arm held close to his body and the sword still clasped in his hand. Sheathing his knives, the steward set about the tasks Elrond had given him, but something was bothering him, something was tickling the back of his mind and he couldn't put his finger on what it was or why it was bothering him so much.
When the border guard broke through th tree line a moment later, he turned his wrath upon them and felt better.
Meanwhile, in his chambers, Elrond gathered a few towels and bandages, his hands shaking. Pausing, he drew a deep breath into his lungs to steady himself. He torn the sleeve of his tunic easily, revealing the gash in his arm. It was deep, but not large and he staunched the flow with a towel while he rested a bit. The skin was slit to the last letter of his tattooed name, stopping just before the S. After checking the wound for traces of poison and cleaning any dirt from the wound, biting back the pain, he bandaged it tightly.
He was never going to be the doctor that his brother would have made, but healing and medical skills came easily to both of the twins and so he was more then able to deal with the wound alone. He had too.
With a tugging on a clean tunic in loo of his blood stained one, Elrond made his way to the barracks where the wounded were waiting for him.
: Evening :
The border had been severely reprimand for their lack of care in protecting the border lands. Elrond had spared no feelings in his judgment of their actions. He could not risk the lives of those helpless ones that had come to Rivendell for the safety it offered. Excuses were not even offered for their behavior, and the lord could see their distress at the possibility of what happened was sincere. He had sent them away feeling the weight of responsibility bearing even more heavily on his shoulders.
Erestor had gone out to the borders himself to deal with the posted guard. The realm would be safe that night, Elrond knew, but what of the next day and the years and decades following that. Erestor could not be torn in two ways anymore the Elrond could. Besides, Erestor's true love was instruction, study and a good argument. He could never be happy in the life of a military man, not permanently. But who else was there?
But again, there was more to consider then just the safety of the valleyElrond stared at the finished letter in his hands. He had just completed it.
To Princess Celebrian; Greetings
I regret, dear princess, to send this missive, but I find myself without another recourse. Because of security matters that have yet to be resolved in Imladris, I must beg you and your good parents to postpone your journey here. Until the security of the valley is assured I could never feel right to invite you here where you could be in jeopardy. I hope it will not be long until you will be able to come.
As soon as I am sure of the safety of such a visit I will write. Until that time, think kindly of us. Farewell,
Elrond, Peredhel: Lord of Imladris
Elrond rubbed his hands over his face and leaned his forehead against his folded arms. The gash on his left arm was throbbing dully and that pain joined with the headache that was taking up residence behind his eyes. He hated telling Celebrian not to come,he was looking forward to seeing her, or receiving her quaint letters, but there was no help for it.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and a sweet breeze ruffled the pages on his desk. Elrond raised his head and he was no longer in the dimly lit study, but in a beautiful garden. Such beauty could only exist in Valinor, though Elrond had tried to bring his vision world into being in Middle Earth. Here the waterfalls splashed silver and white with richness.
Looking around, Elrond tried to discern the light entity that was Lorien, lord of dreams and visions. Still, as ever, the Vala concealed himself. Only the voice was heard, resonating in the peredhel's chest as if he spoke himself.
"I have missed your visits, Elros," it said.
"I have been consumed with my realm," he replied, "I haven't had time."
"I know. You and your companion have been over reaching reality in what you are trying to accomplish." Lorien said kindly, "You are not a Vala."
"Maia blood is not enough?" Elros smiled, "What word have you for me, Lord?"
"Consolation, love and friendship," Lorien intoned, "We have seen your struggles, beloved son of Luthien, we have not seen it without compassion. We will send comforters to you."
"Who?" Elros asked, "There is no one."
A sound, almost a laugh echoed, vibrating in the air around him.
"Because you look in the wrong places, young peredhel. Because you are Lord of Imladris, you think all wisdom is come into your hands?"
"I hope I wouldn't be so presumptuous," Elros answered, "But who? Lorien, who comes?"
"One whom you admire above many. And one who you love." again the laugh, "One who loves you already."
"Celebrian?" Elros breathed, his pulse increasing with wonder.
"Silver daughter," Lorien said affectionately, " Daughter of the Silver tree. She will come."
"When?"
"Sooner then you wish and later then you think," Lorien said softly, "And the other stands at the door."
Elrond jerked his head up and turned toward the long glass doors that covered the westward wall. A light blinded him momentarily, but it softened and moved forward in the figure of a tall, broad shouldered warrior. As the golden light around him cleared, a strong featured face was revealed. He stood like some fabled angel of light and his face was all honor and bravery. He knelt.
"Lord, I come to serve you," he said., "I am Glorfindel."
:Review Replies:
Ellfine: Thanks for the review. I like Crossroads of Time.
TheHawkMaster : Uh, okay?
Lackam: Don't worry, no flash backs. This is about the present in which the story takes place.