Chapter Sixty-Five: Turning the Tables
"What do you mean by that?" inquired Estë.
"The dream we were trapped in… it was bizarre," Lórien replied. "Morgoth paid scarcely any attention to Elrond; his target, this time, appeared to be no-one but me…"
"You?" Manwë wondered aloud, his brows knitting in confusion. "Why?"
The Dream-lord shut his eyes for a moment, leaning back in his chair as he thought about this deeply. Estë laid a hand on his shoulder, and Elrond I flinched in alarm, so he opened his eyes again and spoke. "I believe it was because of my close relationship with Elrond; Morgoth may have targeted any of us, however, if we had been near to him at the time of the attack."
"You fought him off, though," the elder half-elf spoke up. "I could never have done what you did. It was exceedingly brave of you."
"Thank you," Lórien smiled faintly.
"What did happen in that dream?" asked Estë. "How exactly did you combat Morgoth?"
The silver-haired Vala glanced over at Elrond. "I was cataleptic for the last few moments of it. You would know the tale's end better than I."
The elf explained in detail how his friend had wrestled with the Dark Lord, and how they had taken on each other's bodies after a brief struggle. He described the crumbling of the cliff, and how he had discovered that the key to freedom from the apparition lay in letting both friends fall from the precipice, just as Morgoth had wanted them to.
"…Because," Elrond I concluded, "as everyone who has had that kind of dream knows, falling from any great height in a vision ensures that the observer will wake up just before he or she hits the ground."
"Undoubtedly it does," nodded Lórien, understanding entering his eyes. "I have used that rule many more times than I can recall."
"What of Morgoth?" inquired Estë. "Did he flee as soon as you awoke, or…?" She trailed off, leaving her words hanging in midair, and wished she hadn't spoken.
The Dream-lord stared at Elrond I in wordless horror. The very same question had been burning through their own minds. What had become of their adversary? The half-elf had a hunch, and Lórien had a plan to prove it.
"Where is the last Silmaril?" he asked.
Elrond opened his mouth to reply, but halted abruptly when frantic knocks sounded upon the bedroom door. Manwë waved a hand casually at the lock, which clicked, and the door swung open. Three ashen-faced elves stumbled across the threshold – Arwen, Celebrían and Elwing. They all fell reverently to their knees, and the watching Valar gave courteous nods in reply.
Taking that as a cue to rise, the three women hurried to the side of their father, husband and son. The half-elf smiled at their obvious concern, but noticed the tearstains on all of their faces, no matter how his kinswomen tried to hide them. But Arwen saw something about her father that the others had not.
"Is that blood in your hair?" she asked Elrond anxiously.
Elrond I put his hand up to the place his daughter had indicated, feeling something warm, wet and rather sticky on his fingertips. He pulled his hand back, and stared numbly at the deep scarlet smears. The Dream-lord leaned closer to get a better look, and then shivered as he spoke.
"That is my wound," he breathed in quiet horror. "When I was fighting Morgoth, my head was dashed against the stone ledge, and it struck in that very place. The presence of my spirit in your body must have relocated my injuries to you. I should be the wounded one."
"That's hardly your fault," Elrond reassured his comrade, as Estë quietly saw to it that the lesion was healed. "Blame it on Morgoth. He's the one who is behind all of this."
Lórien sighed, then turned his head as a flicker of darkness caught his eye. Mandos came into sight in the doorway, speaking telepathically to his brother even before his body was made whole. You are not entirely correct.
The others all looked to him, and the Doomsman continued coolly. You must remember that a greater force even than Morgoth is keeping these occurrences under His control. This is all occurring for a reason.
The Dream-lord stared accusingly at his brother, anger imbuing his voice with calculated slowness. You… you knew of this?
Mandos nodded. I cannot deny that I did. I was fully aware of all that has happened.
You knew that Morgoth would attack, Lórien whispered mentally, his thoughts shaking in rage, yet you ordered me to proceed with my task. You foresaw everything.
The dark-haired Vala sighed in deep regret. Yes. I am sorry it had to come to this.
Apologies cannot undo this! cried Estë, intruding upon their conversation. How could you do such a thing to your own brother? He could have been killed!
But he was not. I knew that he would survive.
It makes no difference! the Healer retorted, with a tremendously uncharacteristic snarl to her normally-serene voice. Her lavender eyes blazed with unchecked fury. Treachery, Námo! Treason and betrayal!
Mandos was submissive throughout all this. I had my orders given to me, and I followed them.
Elrond I could feel that this wasn't going to end well at all. He nodded to his mother, wife and daughter, and murmured under his breath to them. "Go back to bed, please."
They all nodded, and slipped out of the room without a word of protest from any of them. Elrond turned his frightened gaze back to Mandos and Estë, whom it appeared were still deep in a standoff.
Why in all of Eä would Eru command you to permit this to happen – worse still, to set it in motion? the Healer cried out in disbelief.
He has His own reasons, Mandos told her, in a voice like a razor. Are you willing to put yourself against the will of your Creator?
Estë did not respond to him immediately. Her eyes still flashed irately, but gradually their fire dimmed and died. She bowed her head humbly, sighing one word. No.
The Doomsman nodded curtly, turning his gaze to Lórien as the Dream-lord spoke up in a rather quavery voice, repeating the query which had earlier been addressed to Elrond I.
Mandos moved smoothly toward the half-elf's wardrobe, taking down the black box that now held only one jewel, nestled in a black velvet bed. He took the Silmaril from its dark wrappings and held it out in his right hand, then tossed it skillfully into the air toward his brother. "Catch…"
Lórien held out his own hands as Time seemed to decelerate to a snail's pace. The radiant jewel turned over and over in the air, rising to its full altitude before arcing downward… he could almost feel it, even when it was inches from his fingers…
…and then his palms cupped the large, faceted gem, which was quite cool and heavy in his hands. No smoke curled into the air; no stench of blood and burning flesh arose. The Dream-lord, at least, was safe from evil. No… he was not truly safe, of course, but it had not infected him as he had feared.
The Vala then held the Silmaril forth in his right hand, and Elrond I stretched out his own to take it. Again – thank Eru! – cool, glassy radiance was all that met him. Morgoth had indeed taken flight, having been thwarted for the thirteenth time. Now, only three attacks were yet to come. And these, Elrond was sure, would be more devastating than anything he had so far experienced. He certainly didn't need Mandos' riddles to tell him that.
----
Decades ticked past day by day, soon blossoming into centuries. The Third Age now held nearly two millennia, all of which had seen peace for the many countries of Middle-earth; generally, in any case. The cumbersome burden that was his very life weighed ever more heavily on Elrond, now that the attacks were approaching their end. That alone was more than enough of a load to bear upon his heart, but another pressing issue had come to light only recently.
The matter was Arwen. After an extended trip to Greenwood several years past, the lady of Imladris had returned full of exuberant chatter about a golden-haired ellon by the name of Voronwë. Elrond II soon consulted his godfather, and found out that this was a far cry from what had happened "last time", when Arwen had fallen in love with a human man, and had, as a result, chosen to become mortal. Not so in the present, it seemed. Not at all.
"This isn't right!" Elrond I soon cried to Mandos. "What about Aragorn? What about the Sword-that-was-Broken? What ab—"
"Calm down," the Doomsman cut him off, unperturbedly. "I have told you before, these things will sort themselves out in time. I also granted you another view of the future, but of course, you were not paying attention…"
"All right, so half of this is really my fault," the half-elf admitted. "Might I ask just what I wasn't paying attention to?"
Mandos seemed only too happy to oblige. "When I gave you news of Celebrían's safety, I stated quite specifically that I would lay claim to neither her, nor you, nor your children. You were, understandably, too absorbed in your wife's well-being to take heed of me."
"Thank you for being so patient with me, sire," Elrond I smiled gratefully, before lapsing into deep thought. Mandos would not lay claim to him, his wife or his children… Arwen would have no reason to become mortal…
"Here is a second hint," the Vala spoke up, poking momentarily into Elrond's rumination. "You will now achieve for your daughter that which you most desperately desired for her 'last time', as you put it."
Elrond I could almost feel the collision of realization connecting forcefully with his mind. He was so jolted by it that he managed to speak only in a stammer: "I wanted Arwen… to sail to Valinor, and to… leave Aragorn behind."
He didn't need the Doomsman's nod to confirm his thoughts. A hundred mingled feelings churned within him, all of them soon overwhelmed by the warm, golden glow of absolute ecstasy. For the second time, Elrond wanted to leap forward and… but… well, dare he do that again? It had been a complete breach of etiquette, no matter how Mandos had let it happen…
"Oh, go on," the Vala smiled patiently. "If you really – must," he managed to wheeze, as all his breath left his lungs in quite a hurry. "Try not to break any ribs, if you please… ah, yes, thank you."
"You're very welcome, my lord," the half-elf replied, wiping his joyously-teary eyes with the back of his hand.
Once the half-elf took his leave, a grey-clad figure took shape behind the Doomsman, and the amused voice of Lórien spoke in his mind. You enjoyed that thoroughly, I can tell.
"What, that nearly rib-cracking embrace?" Mandos retorted with a wry smile. "Elrond is very happy, that is all." He sighed half to himself, his smile slowly widening to turn to a grin. "Although, I do truly love it when he is."
"He does care about you, you know," the Dream-lord said softly, moving to his brother's side. "The fact that you are the Doomsman must make it that much harder to accept, not to mention harder to demonstrate."
The dark-haired Vala nodded. "Yes, I know. But we must trust in Time."
----
Spring mornings sprung up to pave the way for bright summer, and fall evenings fell prey to winter's cold gloom. The endless cycle of life, death and rebirth recurred time and time again, neither failing nor halting, as steady as the stars. Light and Dark each had their say, and each at least tolerated the other. Tilion still pursued Arien in his futile but undaunted quest for her love, and Eärendil still crossed the wide heavens in his hallowed silver ship.
Arwen brushed a waving tress of her deep brown hair out of her eyes, where it had been blown by the gentle breezes of early summer. Tucking the unruly lock behind one tapered ear, the lady of Imladris reclined a bit on her bench by the river in the eastern gardens of Rivendell, gazing up at the verdant, shade-giving boughs of the stately oak above her.
She brushed a fluffy, windblown dandelion seed from a page of the book she was quietly reading, and had just finished a few more sentences when there came a gleeful hoot, a splash, and a wave of cold water across the maiden's bare feet and the hem of her gown. She leapt to her feet with a gasp and a shout, setting aside her book as she rose. "Elladan, you villain!"
"What?" her eldest brother grinned impishly, breaking the river's already rippled surface with his raven-haired head as he came up for air. He extended a dripping-wet hand to her, his silvery eyes glinting. "A little water never hurt anyone! Care to join me?"
"Not dressed like that, she won't!" a voice exactly like Elladan's called to them from the other side of the river. "Arwen doesn't like getting her gowns wet. You should know that, Dan!"
Elladan flicked water at his younger twin as he trod water to keep afloat. "I know, Ro! I was just asking! She can change her clothes, you know!" Elladan himself was clothed in nothing but his breeches; the sun glinted off of the water that dripped from his bare arms and torso in rivulets.
Elrohir shrugged carelessly, and addressed his sister. "How about it, will you join us once you change?" He pulled off his tunic as he spoke, tossing it onto the grass and curling his body into a ball as he jumped into the river alongside his brother. Arwen leapt backwards this time as more water drenched her ankles and feet.
"One more stunt like that and I won't!" she retorted, laughing. "Give me a few minutes."
She ran deftly across the wide stone bridge that traversed the river, hurrying back into the haven and to her own bedchamber. She darted out again five minutes later, clad in attire that was much more suitable for swimming. Spurning the bridge, Arwen rushed down the grassy riverside and into the shallows of the river, gasping and giggling as the water came past the already damp areas of her legs.
Elrond I and II both watched them from an adjacent window, smiling at the faint echoes of splashing water and lighthearted laughter. The elder half-elf stifled a laugh of his own as he watched Arwen playfully dunk Elladan's head under the water, and get pulled down herself by a submerged Elrohir.
"Was it like this at all last time?" Elrond II asked his godfather.
"In the twins' case, yes," Elrond I replied. "Arwen wasn't quite so inclined to have fun as they were. I wonder how she changed?"
"Only Eru and Lord Mandos know, I suppose," Elrond II shrugged. He sighed wistfully. "I think they've got a rather good idea, don't you?"
Elrond I nodded, turning from the window and walking over to his wardrobe. "I couldn't agree more. What do you say we go out and join them?"