Chapter Twelve: The Warning
Even almost two years after Eärendil's departure to Valinor, Elrond's heart still yearned for him. But he felt no desire to alter the past; the two years he had spent with his father had been the two best years of his existence. But, the elf mused to himself, certainly the last two years of his life had been every bit as joyous. And tonight was no exception.
Though the cold wind blew drifts of snow over Sirion, all of the elves were safe and warm within the haven. The New Years' festival was well underway; it was a night of talk, laughter and song. Elrond was as merry as any other elf, laughing and joking as he ate and drank of the feast that was prepared and served by willing hands.
The elf smiled warmly as a familiar figure made her way toward him; it was Caranel. The redheaded elleth was holding a tray which was giving off an enticing aroma.
"Here's a little something to take the chill off the evening," she smiled, holding out the tray. It was laden with fresh, honey-glazed muffins. Their warm, sweet scent allured his nostrils, but he was wary; the memory of the episode in Balar was still fresh in his mind.
At last he could be tempted no longer, and carefully sampled one. Its flavor surprised him as it burst on his tongue – sweet, but oddly savory as well; there was some strange spice in the mix he couldn't quite name.
Smiling appreciatively, Elrond finished the dessert and very cautiously wiped his mouth. "My compliments to the baker."
Caranel blushed furiously. "Thank you, sir. I've never tried anything like that before."
"They turned out wonderfully," Elrond complimented. "Thank you."
She turned a deeper shade of scarlet, turning away to serve a pair of elves nearby. Elrond gazed after her, remembering the day they had met. Caranel was a timid flower at first sight, but her warm heart shone brightly through once her confidence was built up.
"Good evening, Elrond," said a voice behind him.
Elrond glanced over his shoulder, rising and bowing to Lórien. The Vala was smiling, his eyes twinkling. "Is that honey I smell on your breath?"
"Yes, sire," the elf replied. "The muffins are delicious, have you tried them?"
"Not yet," said Lórien, his smile widening. "I thought you would never recover from the incident on Balar."
Elrond laughed, gesturing for the Dream-lord to be seated beside him. "Neither did I."
They talked for a long while about recent occurrences, and some not so current; the good times and the bad. They reflected on the past and speculated on the future. Elrond sighed fondly as the memories flowed through his mind.
The night wore on, and Elrond often found himself dozing off in his chair. Each time he awoke he would steal a glance at Lórien, who would only smile dismissively. But at last he chose to call it a day, and retired to his bedroom.
Lórien glided smoothly through the door after the elf, who had changed into his nightshirt and was climbing into bed. Pulling the blankets up to his chin, he smiled and yawned, "Goodnight, Lord Lórien."
"Goodnight," the Vala replied, laying a hand gently on Elrond's forehead as he had done many times before. "Sleep well."
"Thank you," the elf smiled, letting his eyes glaze over.
----
Elrond gazed uncertainly around his new, dim environment. All about him he could hear a faint rustle of cloth, like curtains being brushed by wind, and a weird rhythmic clicking. As the elf's eyes slowly grew accustomed to the gloom, he saw that he was surrounded by innumerable tapestries.
They seemed to stretch on for miles on either side of him, like a tunnel of fabric. Glancing back, he saw a door, closed and barred. His only choice was to go forward; he followed the odd clacking sounds.
Elrond couldn't help but gaze curiously at the tapestries he passed. They were brilliantly coloured, incredibly detailed pictures. He saw a great deal of contrasting images; war and peace, joy and sorrow; fair elves and hideous orcs. Each was so finely depicted that he half-expected them to begin moving. Some of them looked as if they were, when the faint breeze moved the cloth.
All at once Elrond halted in his tracks, staring at a tapestry to his right. He himself was depicted there in thread. His extremely true-to-life cloth self stood beside equally precise figures of several other elves; Elrond recognized his mother and father immediately, as well as his infant self and his twin brother.
He knew where he was in that very instant. These were the Halls of Mandos; it could be nowhere else. No other place in the universe was filled with Time.
Elrond continued down the long hall, watching Time unfold before him. He saw his life in thread, from his birth onward. The hall was like a labyrinth, twisting and turning. Before he knew it, he was in a wide open area with no tapestries. A woman sat in the middle of the space, her back toward him.
She was clad in a dress of rich fabric, and her long hair was tied back from her head with a pale ribbon. She seemed to be working some machine which was emitting the ticking noises.
Elrond approached her warily, not sure of how he should announce his presence. But he was spared the trouble when she turned, saw him, and smiled as she rose to her feet. The elf bowed instinctively, for the woman had an aura of authority and power around her, made even greater by the fact that she was taller than he was.
Her wavy hair was the hue of cinnamon, and her eyes were a peculiar, bright gold; they gleamed in her pale face like coins. Her garb was embroidered in gold thread with many runes, both strange and familiar. They shifted and changed shape constantly, becoming Elven, Dwarfish, and of some other culture Elrond didn't know.
"I have been expecting you, Elrond Peredhel."
The woman's voice was sweet and melodious, but it was heavy with a burden that could not be measured. Elrond was in no doubt that she had seen more things in her life than she would have liked to remember.
Elrond bowed even lower, dropping to the floor. He felt he knew who she was; he had known it ever since he had seen himself in the tapestries on the walls around them. But he wanted to be sure.
"Are you Lady Vairë?" he asked carefully, lifting only his eyes.
"Yes," nodded the Valië (female Vala). "Get up. I have a message for you."
The half-elf climbed unsteadily to his feet and stepped closer to Vairë, gazing down at what she had been sitting at. It was a weaving loom; a tapestry was being made on it, but it was half-finished. He looked up again when she spoke.
"You know of the Fëanorians," she said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. "You were told at your birth that four years would pass before they would choose to attack your father's haven."
"Yes," Elrond said quietly, unsure of whether he should speak or not.
Vairë turned her gaze toward him, and he was suddenly transfixed by her glittering eyes. She held him there for a moment, then spoke again. "Four were your years then; now so are your months, your days, your hours… And," she added, "your adversaries."
Four times four, Elrond caught himself thinking. But he said nothing.
Vairë addressed him calmly and directly. "When you wake, you must warn your mother immediately. Haste may save many lives."
"I will act swiftly," the elf promised.
The Valië nodded. "Then awaken, and do so."
----
Elrond opened his eyes, blinking in the pale light preceding dawn. He remembered the dream, and knew exactly what he had to do. Rising, he slipped out of his bedroom and through the empty house, calling out softly as he went. But a small voice made him spin around.
"Godfather?"
It was Elrond II. The young elf stood to one side of the corridor, his wide blue eyes bright in the dimness. He took a tentative step forward, saying, "What are you doing?"
"I need to speak with your mother," Elrond I replied calmly. "Is she awake?"
"I don't know," Elrond II said quietly. "I wanted to see her too. I had a weird dream."
"Really? So did I," Elrond I concurred. "That's just what I need to speak to Lady Elwing about."
"What was your dream?" asked Elrond II, as he accompanied himself down the hall.
"Well," Elrond I replied, "I dreamt about a huge room full of tapestries with hundreds of different things on them. Good things and bad things, and they all seemed to fit together like a puzzle. Some of the tapestries had me on them."
"That's just like my dream was!" cried Elrond II. "Did you see a lady in a pretty dress with long hair and a ribbon?"
Elrond I nodded slowly; only he knew that it wasn't just coincidence. "I did; she spoke to me about something very important."
"She talked to me, too," said Elrond II. "I didn't understand most of it, though."
Well, I did, Elrond I thought. He understood it all too well.
"Elrond!" cried a woman's voice.
Elf-lord and child turned to see Elwing hurrying toward them. Her eyes were filled with relief. "There you are! I've been looking all through the house for you!" She swept the young boy up into her arms, speaking to Elrond I. "Thank you for finding him."
"He found me," the half-elf replied quickly. "My lady, I desperately need to speak with you."
Elwing's face became grave and alert. "About what?"
"Lord Lórien has given me a vision," Elrond I replied. "I know when the Fëanorians will attack – exactly when."
Elwing immediately put her son down, shooing him away gently. "Go to bed, Ronnie. I'll be with you in a moment."
Elrond II clung to his mother's leg. "But Nana…"
"I'll be there right away," Elwing repeated more firmly. "Run along."
The child reluctantly slunk away, and Elwing addressed Elrond I. "What vision did Lord Lórien give you?"
"I know the precise date and time that the sons of Fëanor will invade Sirion," the half-elf replied, his voice faltering. "I also know how many of them will come."
"Then tell me!" His mother's voice was urgent.
Elrond sighed heavily. "There will be four of Fëanor's sons; they will come on the fourth of April, at four in the afternoon."
"This April?" Elwing gasped.
Elrond nodded. "That is correct."
Elwing bowed her head for a moment, then looked up suddenly and announced, "We must keep this a secret. No-one must know anything is wrong. But we also must prepare for invasion."
"My thoughts exactly," said Elrond grimly. "What should we do first?"