Title: Blue Vaults of Varda
Disclaimer: Professor Tolkien and his estate own the characters and the setting; I own the plot. I do not intend or desire to make any money off of this or any other piece of fan fiction that I may write.
Summary: My variation on the theme of Elrond and Gil-galad's relationship. Ch. 8: Preparations for marching to war.
Rating: PG, for now. I'll let you know if it goes up.
Archive: Yes, just let me know where you put it, please!
Feedback: Saes! (Please!): Thank you for the reviews! Part Two should follow at a reasonable speed since it contains many preconceived ideas for part one. Enjoy!
Chapter Eight: Preparations, Part One
Elrond continued his tutoring and drilling, riding, working in the healing halls, and spending his free time with Meriliavas or Gil-galad for the next months. It was a rare mild day after a streak of fell winter ones when he came to sup in Lindon's great hall one evening. Looking around he asked, "Where is Gil-galad?" as he sat down next to Thelagon and Meril. The latter seemed to be engaged in a conversation about the best weave for winter underwear with the lady next to her, but Thelagon raised his eyebrows at the casual address.
"He had some preparations to make, you will see him shortly, though," Thelagon answered.
"Will he be coming late to sup, then?"
"I know not, Elrond."
"I want to sing to him the new song I have learned."
"I'm sure he'll want to hear it soon, but you wouldn't be permitted to sing it at the table in any case."
Elrond nodded with a hint of frustration. "I know." He changed the subject. "What's in this soup?"
"It's venison soup, Elrond."
"Yes, but what else?"
"Apples and yams."
"And herbs?"
"And herbs."
"Which ones?"
"I don't know, but probably thyme and sage."
"I think I taste saffron, too!"
"You're probably right. Eat up, I'm to take you to His Majesty's study when you're finished."
"Really, herdir? Why?" Elrond curiosity was piqued.
"Ai! You're all questions this evening, pen neth! You shall find out soon enough. Eat, please, and be silent. Arataur Gil-galad will not be pleased if he's kept waiting."
Elrond ate his soup silently, then moved on to the rolls spread with Camembert and blackberry preserves (1).
When he finished he risked speaking again. "Can I try your wine?"
"No, the wine is very potent tonight, but if you promise to not speak again until you are addressed you may have a little mead."
"I promise."
oooooo
After what seemed like hours to both Thelagon and Elrond (for very different reasons), the evening meal ended (or was far enough along that they could slip out), and the two made their way to the High King's study.
Gil-galad bid them enter and looked up from his desk as they approached him. "Elrond, how would you like to go on a short training excursion tomorrow?"
"I would, hir nin!"
"Good. It will be a six-day trip. I will be leading it, my two squires will go, Thelagon, two of my personal guards, Elros, and Ceremir (2)."
"Elros!"
"Yes, I will be assessing your camp skills so that I know what to do with you when we march, though Elros will stay at Círdan's side. I thought you might enjoy some company your own age, and Elros could use the experience though he will probably be spending as much time on ships as off. In any case, we will be riding outside of Forlindon, but we will be avoiding yrch and wildmen. Our company is two small to engage them unless there are only two or three stragglers, and I will not put you or Elros in danger.
"I have called the rest of our company in to go over formations, defence, and attack plans. I reemphasis that we are not looking for combat, but we shall venture far outside of Forlindon and perhaps outside of Lindon where trouble is as likely as not to find us in this time of shadow. I tell you now: your place, Elrond, at all times will be in the middle of these formations, and so will Elros'. Do you have any questions, before I call in the others, Elrond?"
"Whose tent will I share?"
"I will go over the sleeping arrangements with the whole group, but you and Eregrîn will share my tent."
"You said you intend to assess our skills--will there be games and simulations then, or will we spend the whole time riding?"
"You will have to wait and see on that matter. Any other questions?"
"I--I don't know how to pack."
Gil-galad released half a smile. Of course Elrond knew how to pack, he must have done so at least half a dozen times in the camp of Maedhros and Maglor. But now that he had more possessions than were necessary to travel with, he didn't know what to pack. "I will help you tonight, as I will help you again when we march in three seasons (3). I will call in the others now, if you think of more questions later, you may ask me."
Very early the next morning Gil-galad awoke to the sound of harsh sobs nearby. Blinking a few times he sat up, and spotted the young Half-Elf in the doorway.
"Come here, Elrond. You had another nightmare."
Rubbing his eyes, Elrond walked over to the bed Gil-galad pulled him up into his lap.
"Tell me about it, pen neth," he said, once Elrond's breathing had evened.
"I was in the north. It was cold and the snow was deep. I was older, perhaps I had reached my fiftieth year. I was alone, scouting, I think. Angmar stood menacing before me and I was very weary. Dead elves and men lay all around me, staining the snow brown, missing heads and limbs, and I was wary of yrch. It was so horrible, Ato. I could smell them."
Gil-galad didn't know what to say. The dream was clearly a very realistic one, and for such a young boy to be having war dreams—it wasn't right. Nor did he think that it was a creation of Elrond's own psyche. It was evidently an induced dream, but whether Morgoth or Lorien or Eru himself induced it, he did not know.
He gathered the Half-Elf close in his arms and rubbed his back. "I will not say that it was just a dream and tell you to go back to sleep, Elrond, for I know that such words make small consolation after such dreams, I have endured enough of them myself."
His mind travelled back to his own lonely flight from Nargothrond. It had started as an attempt to rescue his mother and his sister, Findulias, but he himself had been attacked, and when he finally caught sight of the party of orcs that took the women, he discovered that they had been slain. In anger and grief he had wandered the woods for nearly a year before obeying his father's wish and building a boat to travel south down the Sirion.
The river was frozen in places as the cold of Angmar had spread its fell fingers further south that usual. Even a year after burying what remained of the carnage, it was all he could smell. It had taken many years for the sea to rid his eyes of images of scattered limbs and splattered blood, and to heal his heart.
He sighed. "Come, I will take you back to your room and push you into a deep sleep so that you do not dream." He took the boy's hand and led him back to his own bed, a four-poster with swans carved into the walnut, sheets with a weave so fine that they nearly shimmered, a lambs-wool blanket, and a thrice-fulled and sheared wool blanket dyed in blues with designs of eight pointed stars. He pulled the sheets and blankets back, and smoothed them over Elrond after he climbed in. "There are just a few hours till dawn, but I won't wake you until I have to." He lay his hand on the Half-Elf's forehead until the boy's was asleep. Breathing a kiss on that bright brow, he returned to his own rooms. There he sat by the northward windows to wait for dawn.
The next morning found Círdan visiting his chambers. "Yes, he's still asleep, Círdan; he won't wake until I awaken him," he said.
"There's something I wish to discuss with you. Might we go out into the gardens…?" The two walked for awhile and eventually found themselves among the ornamental grasses near the sea.
"I spoke to Elros yesterday. He intends to remain aboard the ships after you take your troops on land, will that present a problem?"
"No, I expected he would."
"Good, good. That's what I told him." He paused. "He wishes to sail on a ship that I am not on, perhaps thinking the independence will allow him to advance faster. His ambition has grown with his feet." Gil-galad chuckled at this: As Elros started to fill out his limbs seemed to grow disproportionately large—a characteristic often seen in the Edain. "Anyway, I forbade it, of course, and he is sulking a little, but I fear he floats adrift, putting up a show of chasing after what ever snatch of land he spots without any goal or real desire to reach it. And yet he refuses to listen to guidance on setting a course.
"I do not know why I did not notice it before: he is much like you were in that way. He is certainly as wilful, and he uses his adventurousness as a mask to cover his need for security and safety. From now on I shall keep a much closer eye on him, and forbid him from extended journeys without me or one I trust to keep him."
"I think that is wise," Gil-galad commented. "He is too inexperienced to let the winds blow him around, and perhaps too important."
Círdan nodded and continued. "Elrond I am also concerned about, though for a different reason. I'm not sure if you have noticed, Ereinion, because you are so very close to him. He is afraid he has at last found the ballast that his heart has cried out for, and so instead of fleeing it, as his brother does, he clings to it—to you and his new life here—in both an effort to protect himself and to please you. He is afraid that he will lose you, just as he lost his parents, Maglor, and seems to be losing Elros. He is afraid that in less than a year, you will place him under another's care, and he will be launched into another world of uncertainty."
"I have already assured him that he is welcome to stay with me for as long as he wishes. What else am I to do about it?"
"Adopt him as your own, Ereinion."
"Nay. He has had too many fathers. I will raise him to adulthood as his kinsman and guardian, but I will not adopt him."
Círdan stood silently with his lips tightly pressed together at Gil-galad's unexpected reaction. He thought the young king would be eager to take the Peredhel as his own son, since they had grown so close. He didn't understand the other's rigidity on the issue. "Very well," he finally said. "At least ensure him that you do not intend to leave him."
"I will, Círdan. I thank you for approaching me, I was not aware of the reason for his clinging, but I will try to appease it now that I know."
"I should let you finish preparing for your trip, then. Shouldn't you be taking more guards?"
"I would rather avoid being seen entirely, than take enough to defend against an attack. We will be careful."
"Well, Eru sped."
"Thank you, Círdan."
Back in his chambers he found Meril sitting by Elrond's beside, the Half-Elf still fast asleep. She stood up when he entered, clearly concerned. "He wouldn't wake." She watched as Gil-galad calmly walked past her and laid a hand on the boy's brow. Eyes fluttered open and then closed again.
"Get up, Elrond, ere you worry Meril more," Gil-galad said, squeezing his arm.
"Why do you do that? I thought him ill."
"Him? I would think you would think me ill for giving you grief."
"Oh, you know what I meant, Rodnor."
"I assure you that he is quite fit, if a little sleepy. Come, Elrond, get up!"
Elrond swung his feet over the bed, and with the fronted grace that he gathered the occasion required, walked into the water closet.
With a smug smile, Gil-galad crossed his arms and turned back to Meril. "Unless you needed something, I need to speak with him before we leave, so if you wouldn't mind giving us some space…?"
"If he does not return in at least the state he is now, Gil-galad…" she warned before turning on her heel and leaving the room through Gil-galad's chambers.
"That woman," the King breathed indignantly.
Scarcely an hour later, the King, his two squires, Elrond, Thelagon, the two guards, Elros, and Ceremir were assembled near Lindon's gates on horseback. Elrond and Elros were making faces at each other Eregrîn was silently egging them on, and Lendhâr was doing a poor job of feigning indifference to their play as Ceremir gave a final lecture on safety and various communication signals.
"Eregrîn, you are a poor example to the Peredhil, Lendhâr, you are not much better," Gil-galad said. "Shape up! This is no field day. Elrond, that was rude to Ceremir. You will apologise and then occupy yourself with making sure your horse matches every stride of mine. If you do not succeed at this to my satisfaction, then you will be drilling for two hours after we make camp tonight. You should be glad we are starting off at a walk. That goes for you, too, my squires, if you do not improve your behaviour twelvefold."
There was a stunned silence over the youth of the company as Elrond mumbled an apology to Ceremir, and then guided his horse to fall in next to Gil-galad's as they set out.
Though the adults chatted pleasantly, the youth kept silent for the next few hours either from concentration, or from the realisation of the type of what was expected on this trip. When they finally stopped for a lunch break, the squires were assigned to stand watch and Elrond and Elros were sent to tend the horses, frustrating their hopes for rest.
After a rather uneventful afternoon of riding, they stopped again, this time to make camp for the evening. After helping to set up, Elrond and Elros were finally allowed to rest, and settled down to rub out their sore riding muscles under a hickory tree.
"Is Gil-galad usually that stern?" Elros whispered.
"No, he's not. I think it's just his way of reminding us that we're here for training and not for pleasure."
Elros shifted against the trunk and groaned. "It is an effective way, I'll give him that."
"Is your back sore, too?" Ceremir had taken Elros aside and scolded him for not paying attention after Gil-galad had said nothing to him, and Elros had been made to carry most of Ceremir's luggage on his shoulders for the whole day.
"Yes." He flinched as he continued shifting.
"Here, let me rub it out for you. Gil-galad did it for me once."
Elros rolled onto his stomach in response, and Elrond set to work kneading his brother's muscles
Elros flinched and sighed loudly. "You have strong hands, Elrond."
"Sorry, if I go lighter it will only get the surface tension. It will feel better after I'm done, I think. At least it was so when Gil-galad did it."
Soon afterwards Thelagon came over to them. "Elrond, you are to go with Aglonael, the brindle-haired (4) guard, to collect herbs and berries for dinner. Elros you are to help prepare the fire and utensils.
After dinner the Peredhil were told to enter their tents. The campfire and lanterns were swiftly extinguished, and the camp was silent. Gil-galad entered the tent he was sharing with Elrond and sat down next to him.
"What's happening?"
"A few Edain have been spotted and I am leading an excursion to discover whether they are a threat. Lendhâr and Thelagon will remain here with you and Elros. While I am gone you must stay in the tent, Elrond, unless you are told to do otherwise. Clear?"
"Yes sir."
TBC in Part Two
Notes
1. Elvish food. We know from LotR "Three is Company" that they ate bread and berries, and that Gildor and his companions said There is a Quenya word translated "curdled milk" or "cheese," so I am going to assume that that because the Eldar are an ancient society with similarities to Western Europe that they practised the fine Art of Cheesemaking, and produced a variety of different kinds of cheeses both soft and hard. (Camembert is a soft creamy cheese with a hint of mushroom flavour.) I think I've read that the Nandor (Green Elves) were vegetarian, but the Noldor were omnivorous, the Telerin were piscatorial (fish eating). I'm not sure about the Sindar, but I guess that their diet would vary depending on the occasion and location.
2. Ceremir. Fake-Elvish, I think, but it sounds nice. If you must ascribe a meaning to it I guess something like "jewel-maker" is the closest you'll get. I chose it in my last chapter as a filler name and forgot to change it, so I guess we're stuck with it.
3. Three seasons six months
4. Brindle haired. Think of natural streaks. Why not?