Chapter Ten: For The Times, The Tears, The Laughter, The Years

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
-Sting, Fields of Gold

The Beginning of Autumn, Imladris, T.A. 490

The Lord Of Imladris cast his gaze over his realm, taking note of the activities of his people. The training grounds were full of elves, young and old, sparring against one another in matches of sport and jest; his sons and his seneschal were among the gathered, at once both taunting and praising the participants. The archery fields were full of elflings learning how to string and shoot their new bows, a skill currently taught more for hunting than defense, a very haggard Thalion was doing his best to instruct and not receive an accidental injury. Turning his eyes to the east he peered into the windows of the library. There the rooms were full of councilors, scribes, and aides, working through their tasks at a dizzying, yet detailed, pace. Morwen was noted sitting next to the fiery-haired Rian. Erestor was pacing behind them, a cloud of worry covering his countenance. A group of minstrels had gathered on the south porch practicing their songs for the upcoming festival. Many of the servants were cleaning and decorating the house in preparation for the arrival of their Lady Celebrian and their Arwen Undomiel, soon to return from LothLorien.

Elrond took this all in, reveling in the simple peace of the time, and yet knowing all too soon it would be gone. He could taste the change in the wind. It was as certain as the sting in the air that a change was going to come, and it would not be for the better. Already Autumn had arrived too early, already the Easterlings had made an attack, already the peace they had fought so hard for was starting to crumble.

Elrond had shared his fears with his trusted Erestor and Erestor in turn had his councilors, aides, and scribes on a constant search through all texts, new and old, looking for a hint of what was to come. Galdor in the Havens was also searching, his own Lord Cirdan having similar misgivings, and Gildor Inglorion had brought news when ever his traveling party passed through the realm.

Nothing, nothing was to be found.

And all this would be changing, so soon, the peace, the frivolousness so fleeting. Soon the training grounds would be for raising an army, soon the archery fields would not be full of elflings, but elders honing their skills to go in for the kill of two-legged prey. The minstrels would be preparing ballads of mourning rather than rejoice.

Elrond clasped his forehead, trying his best to drive off despair, knowing that while the peace would soon be gone, for now it was here.

"My Lord, are you not well?"

A husky voice broke Elrond's brooding, he turned, his eyes meeting those of one who had seen such darkness, who had fallen and come back. If only for this one, if only for him, Elrond hoped that this time, the darkness would not be so great.

"Glorfindel, I just spied you down on the training grounds. Has someone become injured?"

Glorfindel shook his head in the negative, "No, my Lord. Your sons and I simply noticed your brooding and decided it was high time someone distracted you before we were all banished to the library."

"I have banished no one to the library, Glorfindel."

"How do you then explain Elladan carrying a very exhausted Morwen from the library to her chambers, after working on one of your tasks?"

Elrond smiled, "I did not gift that child with her tenaciousness. Furthermore, I would never banish anyone to the library, it is my haven. Who would not enjoy so many books, scrolls, and maps, my dear Glorfindel? It would be like you banishing a soldier to the barracks."

"A most unlikely punishment, then. Are you certain you are well, my Lord? Your eyes are clouded with dark thoughts."

Elrond reached a hand out and patted Glorfindel on the shoulder, "I assure you, Glorfindel, 'tis nothing we have to worry about yet. Mayhap we never will. Now, tell me of the progress of our new young archers and watchmen."

The night had fallen among Imladris, and in the library only a stubborn few remained. The candles had been burnt down to mere stubs and yet still, they tried to find an answer. To what, they were not certain. The scribes, aides, and councilors were not among the wise, but their study of legends and lore, their work among the trivial running of government, their interactions with all sorts of beings, gave them a unique knowledge in the goings-ons of everyday life and gifted them with the ability to notice subtle changes. For some time, the subtle changes had been accumulating and now, now an attack had occurred in the north.

Morwen was tired. She was tired of running her eyes and fingers endlessly through scrolls, and books, letters and accounts. She was tired of waiting for words from the other realms. Tired of Erestor's distracted pacing, of Rian's subdued outbursts of frustration, and of Elladan's repeated inquiries of when they would be finished. Morwen was tired of not having a peaceful sleep since they had started on this task two months prior. Her mind wistfully went back to all those years ago, when her only concern was how to turn down unwanted gifts from an unwanted suitor. She never did find out what Elladan had done to send the elf away for good, though she was told it involved a dark cloak, some smoke, a wheelbarrow, and the two tallest elves of the Havens.

Morwen reached up to rub her weary eyes when she remembered her ink stained hands. Already her hair was covered in splashes of black ink. Glorfindel had come by earlier and pulled her hair back, securing it with a leather tie, stating he would not hear Lady Celebrian go off on yet another ink stained dress. Morwen would have been more amused if Glorfindel had not then took Erestor off with him for whatever concern he had. If she was an optimistic elf, she would have been happy Erestor was doing his nervous pacing elsewhere. As it was, she simply wanted all to suffer with her. An outburst heard from her left side brought her out of her musings and let her know that fellow councilors were just as annoyed as she.

"Oh, I have had it! Nothing, nothing is here! Nothing of use! If I wanted to know how to birth a calf, which incidentally, I decidedly do not, I would be more than informed. If I wanted to find the recipe for dwarven brew, I have it. If I wanted to know how to plait like a pro, there's a guide over there! Not one of this old, dusty, dirty, excuses for helpful and historical accounts can give us any idea of what is going to happen. Where's the foresight?"

Morwen gave her companion a bored look, "Rian, are you quite done proving your hair color matches your temperament?"

"For now." Rian answered in a huff.

"Thank the Valar," Morwen sighed, "while none of these pointless guides and accounts prove useful for our current situation, I'm sure they all serve their purpose. I will grant you that I do not see a reason for the 'Ballad to a Bar Wench' but even that could prove useful one day."

"In what way?" Rian asked.

Morwen smiled, "Oh, in the way we can ask Glorfindel why he and Haldir of the Tree decided to write such a shining example of elven song."

For the first time in many weeks, the tenseness of the library was broken as all gathered shared in the much needed relief of laughter.

Erestor smirked, "I told you that ballad would get you into trouble one day."

Glorfindel also smiled, "In all honesty, I thought the twins would have discovered it first. They certainly know the lines."

"Anyone who has been by the barracks on a 'spirit' filled night knows the lines to that song, Glorfindel."

The two elves stared out into the night, keeping their own fears at bay. They had discussed their concerns, both knowing like Elrond, that a change was to come.

Glorfindel turned to his trusted friend, "I have not had the chance to ask you, though I know it has been centuries, how does it feel to now be bound?"

Erestor did his best to suppress his surprise, "I assure you, Glorfindel, it feels very well. Though, I doubt many have been with their beloved as long as I before the bind. Little has changed, with the exception of the welcome of freedom to be open with each other in public. I did not realize how much it had bothered Faeleth until she let me know of her concerns. I understand them now. It was wrong of me to make her wait for so long. Worrying about what will be," Erestor broke out in a small laugh, "well, let us just say that it wastes valuable time. Despite the fact I am currently working some elves to insanity on such a worry."

Glorfindel watched his old friend, the mirth and smile in him, though the dark and brooding Chief of Household was still there, "And you will be a father soon, how does that make you feel?"

Erestor shook his head, "I fear I am more terrified of what the twins will teach the child than of the birth itself. It helps, I believe, to have seen so many young elves raised here, to know this is a good and warm place to have a family. It seems folly to bring a child into this time, when we know darkness is on its way back."

Glorfindel looked at the sky, marking the astral patterns, "Oh, Erestor, there is time yet. We should be enjoying what we still have, before it is forever lost to us."

Erestor studied his companion, "Truer words were never spoken, dear Glorfindel. You would do well to heed your own advice. Now, enough of these misgivings, tell me of the sparring battles of the day."

Elladan and Elrohir sat outside the library, waiting to guide the weary academics to their beds. A burst of laughter had been the only surprise of the night, it was soon subdued and the familiar sounds of quills scratching on parchment and pages being turned resumed.

A bored Elrohir turned to an even more bored Elladan and started to engage in a game Glorfindel had taught them long ago,

"Dear brother, how are you feeling about his night?"

Elladan narrowed his blue eyes at his brother, catching a hint of the game,

"Perhaps you should ask our foresight gifted father?"

"Why would I ask him that?"

"Why not?"

"Can you not guess?"

"Can you not answer?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Are you dumb?"

"Are you deaf?"

"Are you both idiots?"

The twins looked up into the smirking countenance of Morwen.

Elladan turned to her, "Are you joining our game?"

Elrohir asked, "Are you trying to distract us?"

Morwen asked, "Why would I do that?"

"Repetition, point!" Both twins responded.

"I have not even joined your game." Morwen said.

"Statement, point." Both twins exclaimed.

Morwen stepped passed the two, shaking her head, "You're each as bad as the other."

Elladan jumped out following his closest friend, besides his twin, "Oh, dear Morwen, do not act so injured. You won the last five games. Mor? Wenny? Morwen. Ah, come on!" Elladan went running after her.

An amused Elrohir watched his twin, smiling at their interaction. One of the few true comforts in his world was watching Elladan grovel at Morwen's feet. Some things never change, thank the Valar.

"If they keep that up, people will suspect them of having more than a friendship." Rian's voice rang out above Elrohir's head.

Elrohir studied her. Once Rian had been a close friend, a disputed enemy, and a rumored lover. Now she was just another companion. Their acquaintance had waned over the years, each going after pursuits completely opposite to the other. Since Arwen's majority all those years ago, they had not had another full gathering under the stars. Rian, she was almost a stranger to him.

"Those who know them most dearly, Rian, know that will never be an option and that is all that matters. Let others have their gossip and their speculation, they can keep it all as long as Morwen and Elladan still have each other for balance and for their friendly love. We all need someone to talk to, to know they will love us unconditionally."

"Your twin has you, does he not?" Rian questioned.

"Of course he does, Rian, and he always will. But there are still things my brother can not or will not speak to me about, and that is where he has Morwen. Do not let your own jealousy cloud the purity of their relationship. Do not go searching for what is not there."

Rian lowered her gaze to Elrohir, "I do not know of what you speak."

Elrohir tilted his head, "Do you not, young Rian? I may not spend hours studying scrolls but I do have eyes and I have lived among people. You care for my brother not as a friend, not as an adopted sibling, but as a possible lover. More so than you ever cared for me."

Rian inhaled sharply at Elrohir's words.

"Do not seem so stunned, Rian. I knew of that long ago. We both know it would never have worked."

Rian nodded, "Because we are far too different."

Elrohir stood up, "No, Rian, because we are far too similar."

Rian looked shocked, "El-Elrohir, you do not mean to say that…"

Elrohir smiled, "I could never desire Morwen as more than a friend or a sister. I know her too well, there is no mystery there. Besides, we all know who Morwen belongs to, whether he is willing to make that claim or not. No elf in their right mind would ever sincerely peruse Morwen, simply knowing she would never agree and further knowing Glorfindel, or even Erestor, would put a stop to it."

"Have they done such a thing before?" Rian asked.

"Yes, many times. You see, it is essential for Morwen not to be with anyone but Glorfindel. It is, for lack of a better term, fate. Her lifetime is a lifetime of waiting, thank the Valar she has the strength to endure. Now, let us try to catch up with my fool brother before Morwen dumps him in the pond again. Last time the fish had such a terrible fright.

Think "The Princess Bride" in regards to Elladan's scheme.

The Game of Questions is shamelessly stolen from "Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead" by Tom Stoppard