Chapter Eight: Bittersweet

"Lord Lórien!" Elrond gasped.

At the sound of his voice, Eärendil and Cirdan both looked up.

"My lord, it is a great honor!" cried Cirdan, bowing respectfully. Eärendil followed suit, smiling calmly.

"Thank you," said the Dream-lord softly. His blue eyes were fixed on Elrond.

The shipwright looked utterly amazed at the Vala's appearance; the mariner was quietly reverent. Elrond was dejected and confused. What was Lórien doing here?

The Vala's voice echoed dismally in the elf's mind. You cannot hold him back, Elrond. He must cross Belegaer and become the star he is meant to be.

Elrond knew all too well that Lórien wasn't just paying Eärendil a compliment by calling him a star. But why couldn't he stay longer? The Fëanorians wouldn't invade Sirion for four years…

Lórien shook his head once. I am sorry.

Are you? Elrond wondered mutely. Or are you just saying that because you know this hurts me more than it does you?

But the elf mentally kicked himself for thinking it. Lórien was sorry; his eyes betrayed it. If the saying was true, that eyes were the windows of the soul, then Lórien's were flung wide open.

Elrond nodded silently. I understand.

He turned back to his father and Cirdan, opening his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of a bell.

"That would be the call for dinner," said Cirdan, breaking the silence. "Would you care to join us, my lord?" he inquired to Lórien.

"It would be a pleasure," the Vala smiled.

----

They had their meal outside, as the weather was so pleasant. A variety of meats, breads with some different spreads, salads and cheeses were available, with goblets of wine or water. The four companions conversed brightly as they ate.

Cirdan was as interested in Elrond's past as Eärendil had been; Elrond somehow found it easier to talk to the shipwright than it had been to speak to his father.

"…I've lived near Eregion for many years now," the half-elf was saying, as he reached for a handkerchief to wipe honey from his lips. "Until I journeyed here, that i… mmft?"

Elrond was startled to find that his lips were suddenly glued together; the honey on them had brushed off onto the cloth, attaching it to his lips and creating a sticky predicament. He tried to tug the handkerchief away from his mouth, but to no avail; it was as though it had been covered with mortar.

Eärendil was the first to notice. "Do you need help, Master Elrond?"

Elrond made a strange muffled noise, nodding to his father. Eärendil reached over to help him, while Elrond tried to remain as still as he could. As Eärendil pulled as gently as possible on the handkerchief, Lórien gently held Elrond's head still; the elf whimpered as the skin was peeled from his lips.

"This isn't working," the mariner sighed after a short while. "We'll either have to cut it off, or moisten the handkerchief enough to get it off with as little pain as possible. What do you think, Master Elrond?" he asked.

Elrond, feeling severely humiliated, held up two fingers in favor of the second option. Eärendil nodded, and Cirdan picked up a nearby glass of water.

"Hold still," he said, carefully pouring the liquid over the handkerchief. The cloth and Elrond's lips were soon mercifully separate, although the elf was bleeding a little. Lórien handed him a clean handkerchief, which he gratefully pressed to his lips.

After dinner, the shipwright and the mariner continued work on the ship. Elrond sat aside from them, as he had only one hand available; the other was occupied with his lips. He sent out a disgruntled thought to Lórien, who was seated beside him.

So much for father-son time. I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed.

That was purely accidental, said the Vala calmly. It could have happened to anyone.

Elrond nodded, not entirely reassured. He fell silent, and soon became lost in thought. The awful pains in his heart came back to mind, as did the strange grey flickers he had seen on the way to Mithlond. He frowned to himself, puzzling through his memory…

The pieces slowly came together. The flashes of grey he had seen on his way to Mithlond could have been Lórien's robe. And the terrible pains in his heart… no, he had already contemplated that enough. But why had they stopped? Wasn't his other half still in Sirion with Elwing? They were much further than five miles apart, surely…

Unless… could it be?

I think there's something you're not telling me, sire, Elrond said silently, gazing calmly up into the Dream-lord's eyes.

Oh? What might that be? Lórien's tone now held a sly note, and the suggestion of a smile hid at the corner of his mouth.

A while ago I felt that I wasn't "all here", so to speak, the elf replied smoothly. But now I think I am… literally. Where is my other half?

The Vala's expression did not change. What makes you say you are fully here?

Because, Elrond smirked, if I weren't, I think I'd be dead. Lord Mandos told me that something disastrous would happen if I went outside of the five-mile limit between my two halves. And, as is plainly obvious, I'm still here… or, half of me is. That means my infant half must be here somewhere, or at least within five miles of here.

Lórien smiled. Well done. Your mother is with the children; they are outside the haven.

'The children'? cried Elrond. She brought both of us – my brother and I?

Yes, nodded the Dream-lord. Your brother would be lonely without you.

Elrond remembered his father's words from yesterday. All right… but does Mother know why you've brought them here?

No. I thought it unwise to reveal your secret to her at present.

What did you tell her, then? Elrond wanted to know.

I told her that it was vitally important, Lórien told him. I said nothing of you, for the sake of safety.

Elrond nodded. Would it be possible for us to meet on the way back to Sirion?

I am afraid not, the Dream-lord dissented. Eärendil must not know of this either. It would be far too risky.

Very well, said the elf quietly, adjusting his handkerchief.

----

All too soon, it was time to leave. The sun had not yet set, but Eärendil reasoned that it would be good to get back to Sirion as soon as possible. He and Elrond mounted their horses and rode off; Lórien swirled away as they departed.

"Well, we made good progress," said the mariner brightly, as they journeyed home. "A pity about your lips."

Elrond nodded; now that the embarrassment had started to wear off, the incident was becoming rather funny. "I don't think I'll ever be able to eat honey confidently again."

Both elves laughed; Elrond smiled quietly, then frowned as Lórien's words echoed in his memory. He wished he could tell his father about the Fëanorians; then perhaps Eärendil could stay a little longer.

But it probably wasn't to be. Elrond trusted Lórien, and kept his tongue in check.