Maeghen

(Sharp Eyed)

"Won't you go and speak to him?" Elonde asked.

She and Castien stood in the shadow of the smithy's lean-to watching the elves mingling with the people. Most of the people were listening in as Rúmil and Haldir explained that they would be staying for a time in the village. The mayor, a tall man with graying blond hair and a noble face agreed readily and even invited them to his own home.

"I've no reason to and as you think I'll kill him soon as look at him I'd best stay here." Castien answered. He crossed his massive arms across his chest and leant against the doorframe of the smithy, "Beside, I want to speak to Éleyond before he sees …him."

"What will you say?" Elonde asked concernedly, "I hope you're not going to go off on one of your speeches. Éleyond doesn't take it any better than Tess did."

"I'll not preach, but I want to warn him. I don't like the look of the party. Why would they bring more soldiers with them if they didn't mean something by it? Haldir was never one to do anything without a reason." Castien said, "Remember, Tess asked me to look after Éleyond when she died."

"Til Haldir came back," Elonde shook her head and tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Haldir's not a thief Castien, you know that. What his reasons may be I'm sure I don't know, but I hardly think it is anything mercenary. Although he may have every reason for our lies."

"He is here," Castien said heavily, "After thirty years he suddenly appears after we have a visit from some of his men? You can't say that it doesn't have a purpose, Elonde."

"I'm not saying it doesn't. I just don't think it's an evil one." Elonde answered. She placed a hand on his arm, "Why don't we go back to the house and wait for him? Belo should have reached them by now."

"Let's go off then," Castien said, "Their not going anywhere soon, not until they've seen Éleyond."

"And he'll want to see them, Castien, you know he will."

"Aye, I know that, I'll not stop him." Castien answered but as he strode away toward the tannery Elonde wasn't entirely convinced.

HHHHHHHHH

Haldir had handed picked those who into the village with him. It would not do for the people of Pellis to know that their village was surrounded by elves they already had enough trouble trusting. So, Ferevellon, Pilindiel and Rúmil were his only companions and they were enough to bring the entire village to their doors to stare with curiosity.

As Haldir's keen eyes swept the crowd of people he realized that while the village itself was not changed much the people had come and gone like the wind. He did not see a face he recognized, granted, there were those whose faces held familiar features, ghosts of people Haldir had known. They had taken room at the scrubby inn that was the only new building in the village and were now mingling among the people, trying to be friendly. Humans, Haldir thought, were very suspicious people, always thinking that every change in the world had something to do with them. In reality they were only in Pellis for one reason to find Éleyond.

But as Haldir and his soldiers spoke with the people in the square none of them saw a young man who even vaguely resembled a Half-elven man. After a few minutes of casual conversation Rúmil had found some of the men he had met the last time he had been in Pellis. Rúmil, unlike Haldir, had the ability to mesh with nearly everyone he met. When Haldir was younger, when he had been in Pellis the first time he had been just as gregarious, but time had hardened that friendliness.

Now Ferevellon and Pilindiel and Haldir all sat on the steps of the inn trying to look as unimpressive as possible. For elves to look unimpressive is extremely difficult, but the people did not seem to be as uncomfortable as the Galadrim had expected. Rúmil had explained that they must have grown accustomed to Éleyond elven blood and ways.

"I cannot imagine that they had much contact with the elves," Rumil had said, "I think they're simply used to seeing something like us."

Now, as Rúmil talked with the village leaders Haldir couldn't help but wonder when the time, the moment would come when Éleyond and he would meet.

"What will you say?" Orophin had asked. He handed Haldir his sword, "I have a hard time seeing you being met with a great deal of enthusiasm by a young man you've never seen before."

"I hardly expect that Orophin," Haldir replied dryly, "To be perfectly honest I have not thought about it. It is still too new to think of what will happen next."

Now as the lazy afternoon sun began to slant away toward the low Rohirric hills Haldir felt frustration beginning to tense the muscle across his shoulders. On the step below him, Haldir listened vaguely to Ferevellon and Pilindiel as they whispered to each other. Of all the company, Pilindiel was receiving the majority of stares and Haldir couldn't really blame them.

Pilindiel was beautiful, tall and willowy with red gold hair that fell in a curtain to her thighs. She wore it in a snug plait down her back now, but it only served to frame her delicate features more clearly. Pilindiel's parents were Vanyar by descent, but she had been born and raised in Lothlórien when the wood was young and new. Haldir had watched her grow from a child to a young woman, and the fact that she was strikingly beautiful seemed to be unremarkable to him even here.

But the Rohirric men, on the other hand, were quite a different case. They stood around their shops and corrals in little bunches, talking and watching and staring at Pilindiel, a few with adoration in their eyes.

"I think we will have to be watchful for you, Squire Pilindiel, from the looks of things," Haldir said off handedly.

"I hardly think that they will bother me sir," she answered, "I can take very good care of myself should the need arise; although, as a matter of course, that should be avoided at all costs."

"Very good Squire, you right. You must be friendly but keep a safe distance between yourself and the members of the Rohirrim. Some of their men are much larger then you and despite the fact they you are far superior in strength, they can out weight you, especially in numbers." Haldir pointed out.

"Sir, I will proceed with greatest caution," she answered, "But you would not have brought me here if there was a great danger to my person."

"You know me too well," Haldir answered. He suddenly stood and looked toward the south hills, "There's two riders coming this way fast."

Ferevellon and Pilindiel stood and searched the distance with their keen eyes and even Rumil felt the faint tremor that was unnoticed by the humans. The humans came to their feet when the elves moved and followed their eyes to where, in the distance dust rose heralding the approach of the two riders.

"You'll not beat me this time Belo!" Éleyond yelled out. He lay close to the back of the horse feeling the blood hammering through the animal's veins. Behind him, Faeron clung on for dear life as they thundered across the plain.

"You may be a better rider, but I have the best horse!" Belo called back, "Come Harma, come on girl let fly!"

The beautiful mare burst forward in speed and slowly gained on the black stallion that Éleyond guided with gentle touches. Not to be out done Rana pounded the turf and sweat rolled down his gleaming flanks as he defended his pride in the race. Soon the village was in clear view and the people in the street moved aside to make room for the racing pair.

Even at that distance, with the horse's mane blocking his view, Éleyond could make out the three figures by the inn steps. His heart jumped in his chest at the sight of them but he only leaned in closer to the horse and encouraged him on, the end was coming very soon. As they thundered passed the tannery Éleyond had a glimpse of Castien and Elonde but their words were whipped away in the rushing of the wind in his ears.

Into the square and passed the company they flew and at that point Rana moved into the lead. Faeron pressed his face against his uncle's back as the dust flew up from under the horse's hooves. He could hear his uncle's heart beating, calmly, steadily and alien unlike Faeron's own that leapt and jumped wildly in his chest. He did not notice the Galadrim, his own human eyes only seeing the flash of shapes going by and nothing more.

But as they reached the crest of the hill on the other side of the village, all Faeron thought of was beating his brother to the top. The horse's lungs strained and pumped air and with one final, effort Harma pulled into the lead and reached the crest a spilt second sooner then Rana.

"Ha! I told you she was a faster beast!" Belo yelled breathlessly, "She's as fine a horse as that stallion and better. In fact, I think we'd be better to find her a nobler mate."

"That's not fair Belo and you know it. Éleyond had me on the back and added weight throws a horse off his usual speed with only one rider." Faeron shot back.

"It doesn't matter," Éleyond answered, he smoothed his hand along Rana's neck, "They're both fine animals. Come on now boys, we've got to get back, your Grandfather is waiting for us."

They turned their animals back toward the village and the people who had been watching let go a collective breath. Ferevellon whistled lowly and said, "He's as fine a rider as I have ever seen! Did you see his eyes? They fairly blazed!"

"Yes, I saw them," Haldir answered slowly, "I saw them."

HHHHHHHHHH

What makes a father and son? Does the carnal process of begetting a life in a woman make a man or elf a father? Is the passion of a moment the meaning of fatherhood?

Éleyond had spent his childhood, his boyhood wondering what his father must have been like. Elonde had whispered stories to him when he was small, of how strong and brave and good his father was. She had told him how much his mother had loved his father, but never a word of his father's love for his mother. Even in her kind heart, Elonde could not imagine a man leaving a woman that he truly loved.

Éleyond had seen the true love of a father and son in the lives of his companions. For a time he had been consumed with the desire to have his father and be the same as the other boys, but then he knew that could never be. Normal boys did not have pointed ears; normal boys could not feel a plant growing or the song of the stars at night. Normal boys didn't understand the language of animals and real boys didn't feel torn between two worlds.

Éleyond grew up knowing that Castien hated his father, he would not even allow anyone to mention his name. When Éleyond had reached his adolescent years he had demanded to know his father's name.

Castien had refused point blank, but Éleyond had not given up.

"It's my right to know. He is my father whether or not you approve of him," he had said.

"A father doesn't do what he did," Castien answered angrily.

"What did he do? Abandon me?" Éleyond had yelled, "Am I the worse for being abandoned? I have a family to care for; friends and good company, but I do not know who my own father is! Do you think I will hate you if I knew him? Or do you fear that I will go to him?"

Castien's eyes fell from Éleyond's. "Yes, I fear that. I fear that you will leave as he did and all we have of your mother will go with you."

Castien was a hard man, but the thought of losing the young boy before him had brought tears, stubborn and raw into his brown eyes. Éleyond had seen them and immediately regretted his words, but he looked away.

"I need to know," he said.

"Haldir, his name is Haldir of Lothlorien."

After that Castien had never spoken of it again and Éleyond had never asked. There had been times, when the illness raged through his veins as the two halves of his race raged within him, that Éleyond whispered the name. It meant nothing to him; it caused no inner knowing of what his father might have been like. But it was all he had of the shadowy form that was his father.

Éleyond took his nephew's hand and swung him down from behind him and slipped lightly to the ground after him. He moved with a carefully measured pace tying the stallion to the hitch and taking in the elves standing by the inn. A tall golden-haired elf, powerfully built with curiously piecing eyes. Beside him a smaller blacked-haired elf very much like himself, and the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, the female warden. He nodded politely and they all returned the gesture. Aubrey, the mayor of the village, who had been engaged in conversation with Rúmil, beckoned Éleyond over to them.

The eyes of the elves and men alike bored into him. Éleyond walked right to Rúmil and bowed deeply.

"Captain Rúmil, this is an unlooked-for visit. What is the cause of you're coming, more questions?"

Rúmil smiled gravely, "No, Master Éleyond. I have come for quite another purpose. The last time I was here I came on an errand for my brother Haldir, High Marchwarden of Lothlórien."

And Rúmil nodded toward the powerfully built elf. Haldir moved forward as if in a trance. Éleyond and Haldir bowed but Haldir's eyes didn't look away from the face of the young man before him. The rough clothes of the Rohirrim could not hide the fact of his elven ancestry.

"I am honored," Éleyond said, he licked his lips and asked, "What can I do for you, Warden?"

"I am afraid I do not know quite where to start Master Éleyond. You see, my business is with you and although we have never met before this I assure you that I have the very deepest interest in you."

"I see," Éleyond slipped, "I suppose it has to do with my…" he waved a hand near his ears. "My parentage?"

Haldir shifted uncomfortably and glanced back to Ferevellon and Pilindiel as if wishing that they would answer Éleyond's question for him. Rúmil cleared his throat and tried to help a little.

"What my brother is saying is …"

"I understand what he's saying," Éleyond answered, "He knows my father does he not? Or," and here the young man's eyes grew wide and his breathing began to come faster, "He is… Captain Haldir?"

Haldir faced his son, cobalt eyes meeting cobalt eyes. The high cheekbones, the stubborn mouth were all his mother.

The light was almost too bright as Haldir moved cautiously into the birthing room where Tess lay exhausted with a tiny red baby relaxing against her breast. Her hair was slick with sweat and the remains of happy tears streaked her face.

The midwife was clicking over Tess and her aid was carrying away the soiled and stained sheets and nightgown. Tess' face was so pale and worn and yet again Haldir saw the weariness of her humanity resting on her. The last few hours of listening to Tess' labor had nearly driven Haldir mad, but all thought of that vanished when he saw his newborn son in his wife's arms.

"My love, how are you?" he gently smoothed her hair away from her eyes and planted a tender kiss on her lips.

"Tired. Birthing is more work then I ever knew." Tess smiled and lifted the baby, a floppy little bundle toward Haldir, "He is beautiful, Haldir, he is your son."

Haldir took the minute body of his son in his arms and a feeling of wonder and terror came over him as he realized the greatest love and responsibility that he now had in this little child.

"What will we name him?" Tess asked wearily.

"I do not know," Haldir answered laughing a little as tears brimmed in his eyes, "You have… you have confounded me, Tess. I do not know to say."

"Then we shall call him Éleyond," she answered, "Our first son."

"Yes, our son," Haldir answered and kissed the baby's cheek gently before nestling the babe down in his mother's arms.

"Warden? Will you not speak? Will you not enlighten me as to what cause has brought you to me?"

Éleyond spoke through clenched teeth, his skin a ghastly white against his dark hair. "For god sake speak!"

The room and vision faded and Haldir was looking into the eyes of a man, his son. How could he go on to say what was resting on the tip of his tongue? Haldir took a deep breath and went on in a business like manner.

"Yes, Master Éleyond. I am your father."