Oh….hello there. Ah….here you go, enjoy!
Chapter 66 - What Else Can I Do
Five years later
"Nelly, you put your clothes on this instant!"
Cerena's voice rang out through the stately hall, before the shrieking laugh of a toddler sounded after it, along with the patter of bare feet against stone. Erestor swung himself back against the wall just as a youngster came around the corner, a yellow shirt clutched in her hand and naked as the day she was born. Cerena was a moment behind, waddling as quickly as she could fully pregnant, clutching another article of clothing in one hand and a clean white diaper in the other. Erestor could only watch in amusement as Cerena finally caught the laughing toddler mid-stride, scooping her up and unceremoniously putting her over her shoulder. Cerena then turned and stalked back the way she came. Nelly looked at the seneschal as she passed by with her mother, cheerfully waving her shirt at the courtly elf. He coughed lightly to try and hide a smile, before returning her wave.
Cerena walked back into Elrond's office where Ava was still sitting on the plush blanket, happily chewing on a piece of untreated leather while also patting her palm against a tiny drum. Elrond did not look up from his paper, but Cerena knew he was smothering a grin.
"So you found her safely, then?" he asked lightly. He heard the soft growl of his wife's voice.
"Your daughter is such a menace," Cerena complained mildly, before unceremoniously tossing her daughter onto the changing pad she'd spread on the sofa. She then neatly tied the cloth diaper onto her daughter, who was still laughing and kicking. Next came her shirt, then the little jumper dress that had been neatly shed before the little one had made a run for it.
"Oh, when she misbehaves she's only mine?" Elrond laughed, finally looking up from his report. Cerena pinned him with a look, which he held for several moments before they both snorted and looked away from each other.
"Are we still up for a picnic?" Cerena asked. Elrond set the ink on his report, before putting it aside and standing. His robes swished around his feet as he approached Avalaer, who looked up at her father with bright gray eyes. The girls had his eyes, gray as a thundercloud, and their mother's lovely brown skin, slightly muted. Their hair was tightly coiled and Cerena often complained about it as she oiled and cared for it. He wondered what the newest little one would look like. He'd had no visions concerning this one, so he did not know what gender the babe would be, although the little spirit had a rather masculine aura.
Avalaer reached up her hands, opening them and closing them a few times as a sign for her father to pick her up. He did so and she snuggled quietly into his embrace, still chewing on her leather strip. Elrond carefully reached up and brushed a flaky bit away from Ava's eye.
"Of course. Too many people would be disappointed if we did not go," he said softly. Avalaer pulled the leather out of her mouth and offered it to her father. "No thank you lo-hgk," Elrond coughed as the drool-laden leather was pushed into his mouth. He turned his head away from his daughter and coughed, one hand coming to his mouth. "No thank you!" he repeated, a little more forcefully. He turned to glare at Cerena, who was snickering.
Cerena sat with the girls in the wagon, drawn by the two sturdy horses from Gondor. Elrond sat on the bench, reins in hand. Mîrlen sat astride a medium-sized wolf with a large brown crest, a purchase Cerena and Elrond had made from the Black Valley for him. The beast was good for a growing lad, sturdy but even-tempered. He had a soft face with white brows and a single white sock that had been the reason Mîrlen named him Nimtellen, or White Sole. The wolf trotted obediently beside Lily, who went without rider. Lily was round with pup but not due for several weeks. She still enjoyed a light hike to keep her strength up, and the wolfmaster that was training a few of the elves interested had told them she seemed perfectly healthy so far. Lily had been inordinately pleased to be with pup at the same time her Master was.
It took an hour to get to Makaläure's farm. As they approached they could hear the bark of Maka's dog, Huovarnë, and the soft cluck of chickens as they meandered around the yard. Oropher emerged from the house, turning back to alert the other inhabitants. Cerena gathered the girls up from the wagon, setting them on their own feet as Maglor walked out onto the rustic porch. His face lit up at the sight of the girls and he made a jubilant noise, rushing down to greet them as they took off towards him, both squealing exuberantly. He scooped them up under each arm and spun, throwing his head back and laughing. Elrond had grown to love the unreserved look on the elf's face when he interacted with the younglings.
Maglor put the girls down and they immediately wrapped themselves around his legs, sitting on his shoes. He made a grand show of walking awkwardly back up the stairs, walking into the house with his little shadows while Elrond gathered their picnic basket off of the wagon.
"How goes business in the Valley?" Oropher asked as they walked in behind Maglor.
"The training from the wolfmaster will be completed in a few months, and then we will buy our first set of wolves. It will be a few generations before we have enough to start breeding them ourselves, but there were enough elves interested that I think we can keep them in the Valley indefinitely. Durbûrz has agreed to trade the wolves for livestock. They are wanting to get sheep to make wool, and goats for milk and cheese. He said they have combined with the orcs from the Ice Bay and are going to try and extend their farmland and housing above ground, and slowly abandon the lower levels of the mountain," Elrond said.
"Bilbo has taken to sitting on the hill overlooking the wolf paddock and watching them play. He has added a few chapters on orcs to his book," Cerena said, smiling. Gil-Galad and Oropher both grinned at the mention of the Hobbit. He would practically chase them down whenever they came into Imladris proper, grilling them about different historical facts and asking for clarification. He was often in the gardens and had gotten Elrond to set him up a little canopy to sit under and watch the wolves so he was not in the direct sun. Elrond did not mind indulging the old hobbit.
The inside of the house was a statement of simplicity. A simple wooden sofa sat against the wall, with two matching chairs making a semi-circle in front of the fireplace. There was a stack of soft cushions to place on the hard surfaces if one was so inclined. A small sofa table sat in front, strewn with a deck of playing cards and some hand-carved dice. There was a small sewing basket and a shirt in the middle of repairs draped across the arm rest of one of the chairs, and a recently abandoned cup of wine sitting next to the foot of the sofa. Cerena bent down with a grunt and picked up the cup, so that the girls would not be tempted by it, before they walked through the rustic kitchen and out the back door. Cerena neatly placed the glass in the washing basin as they passed by.
The back garden was clearly where these elves spent most of their time. There was a handmade set of patio furniture already set with fine wooden plates and cups. A caraffe of water from a chill box was sitting on the table, a snug cover over its mouth to keep it from collecting dust and bugs. The condensation looked quite inviting on a warm day. There was already two large blankets spread out under the shade of a large oak, whose branches were decorated with colorful bits of fabric and wind chimes made from clay that tinkled gently in the wind. The entire space was a testament to comfort and soothing meditation.
Maglor gently disentangled the girls from his feet, putting them onto one of the blankets. Nelly frowned at being removed from her perch, before her lip turned up to show the white point of a fang.
"No!" she intoned firmly. Maglor tilted his head at her as he then placed her sister next to her. Aranell then stood with all of the aplomb of a toddler, and reattached herself to Makaläure's leg. He stood, looking down at her with mismatched eyes. He reached down, grasping her under the arms to pick her up again. "No!" she growled. Cerena did not miss the way Maglor's hands hesitated, nor the look of doubt that creased his face for a moment.
"Aranell!" Cerena said, her voice sharp but not loud. The impetuous gray eyes cut towards her mother, who stood with her hands on her hips. "Let go of Maka or he won't let you ride on his boots again!"
For a moment there seemed to be a standoff between Nelly and Cerena, before the toddler released her death hold on Maka's leg and allowed him to seat her next to her sister. Then the plump little chin began to quiver. But Maglor had already recovered from his moment of uncertainty.
"Be not sad," Maka said softly in Quenyan, before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a little hand-sized doll. The face was made of exquisitely carved wood, its likeness very similar to the girls. Its body was made of soft cotton and filled with sheep's wool fluff, and covered in a soft cotton dress of sky blue. He handed the little doll to Nelly, whose expression changed from near-tears to jubilation in a moment. Avalaer looked at her sister's doll with quiet jealousy. The envy lasted until Maka pulled another doll like it from his other pocket, with its own lavender colored dress, and handed it to her. She gave him a blinding smile and clutched her new dolly, patting its bald wooden head and giving it a sloppy kiss on the round wooden cheeks.
"Thank you, Maka," Cerena said. He stood straight, puffing with pride.
"I make them," he said, practically glowing. It was one thing he had not regained over the years. No matter how well he seemed to be doing physically, his skin refused to take on the soft glow of elves again, as though the light of the eldar had left him. Cerena reached forward and touched his elbow, pleased when he did not jump. She knew from Oropher and Gil-Galad that there were still nights that he had debilitating nightmares, where he sobbed so hard he vomited, and that there had even been a few leftover times he had tried to present himself to them when he felt he had done something very bad.
The girls settled on their large blanket and Cerena circled a few times, before lowering herself like a dog, and removed two small containers for them. She had packed them their own boxed lunches, since they were starting to be interested in feeding themselves. Their boxes contained little fish cakes that were small enough for them to pick up with their fingers and eat, as well as little apple cubes and several long sticks of carrot. They enjoyed gnawing on the crunchy carrots, and the stiff vegetable acted like a teether for sharp little orcling teeth. Occasionally, and under strict supervision, they were allowed to gnaw on fresh, raw bones. Their little mouths were particularly fond of a mostly clean chicken thigh.
The adults enjoyed a basket filled with a variety of sandwiches, plus several types of side dish. Cerena had perfected homemade pickled cucumbers, having missed the crunchy, sour pickles from her own time. They were sour and crisp, with a pungent garlic and dill taste that Elrond was not fond of.
"My god, those smell terrible," Oropher wrinkled his nose when she opened the crock.
"It's pickled cucumbers. Do you not like pickled food?" Cerena asked, using wooden serving sticks, not unlike chopsticks, to serve herself a several of the small preserved veggies. Then she withdrew a small container of whipped cream that had been made for her, and began dipping the crunchy veggies into the sweetened cream. She saw Oropher swallow a gag.
"I like them," Mîrlen said, and Maka did a double take at the sound of his voice. It was just starting to pitch lower as his body entered a physical puberty. Mîrlen did not miss the look, and his cheeks flushed slightly.
Cerena was comfortable sitting around, listening to the elves talk as she ate her food, watching her daughters to make sure they didn't choke on any of their food. Ava was trying to feed her new doll bits of apple, but most of it was making it into her own mouth. Nelly was chewing thoughtfully on one of her carrot sticks, while plucking at a loose string on the blanket with a shiny black nail. Cerena kept their claws filed down for the time being. Both of them were a bit rowdy to be trusted with sharp nails, as the damage the curious poking of toddler fingers caused to friend and furniture alike would be too much.
Cerena looked over where Lily was resting in the shade of a tree. The wolf seemed as comfortable as she could be, resting on her side with her body stretched out as much as possible, her round furry belly resting comfortably on the ground. Nimtellen was sitting next to her, keeping guard over his owner's friend. The brown wolf saw Cerena staring and gave her a lupine grin, his tongue lolling slightly to cool himself during the warm spring day.
The girls began to fuss with each other, which Cerena ignored for several moments. However, the sound of Ava screaming at the top of her lungs could not be ignored. Cerena's head snapped down to see Nelly clamped onto her sister's arm full force. Aranell's fangs, though small, were sharp enough to pierce her sister's flesh. Cerena could already see red blood smeared on Nelly's lips.
"Let go!" she said firmly, grabbing Nelly's arm.
"Valar preserve us!" Elrond gasped. The girls had scuffled before, over toys or food, but this was the first time one had bitten the other. Cerena kept their claws short so any attempt at scratching was ineffective….but this…
Cerena reached forward and pinched Nelly's leg. She did not respond at first, so Cerena had to pinch harder until the girl finally pulled back with a yelp. Elrond scooped up Avalaer, who was now wailing at the pain. Cerena grabbed Nelly and stood up with her, stalking angrily away from the scene of the fight. She was angry at her daughter, and supremely unsure of what to do. It was natural for orcs to bite. It was an instinct. It was also natural for children to bite, period. They used their teeth and hands to express what their words could not or would not.
"We do not bite!" Cerena said. She sat Nelly on her own two feet, and looked her in the face. There was still red smudged on her lips, and her gray eyes shone darkly out from beneath her dark brows, which were drawn down in an angry toddler pout. Cerena reached up and wiped the blood from the girl's mouth, before putting her hands on either side of her daughter's face. "We do not bite!" she repeated. Nelly tried to wiggle out of her mother's grasp, and growled like an angry puppy. Cerena herself drew her lips off of her teeth and growled low. Nelly stilled in her mother's grasp, still angry and pouting. She held her mother's gaze for several long moments, before she looked away. Cerena had won this fight, but knew it would not be the end."We do not bite," she said once more, before releasing her hold on Nelly's face. She grabbed the girl's hand and turned. Only Gil-Galad and Mîrlen were still there.
"Elrond took Avalaer into the house to clean and bandage her arm. It wasn't so bad but it was bleeding. Oropher had to take Maka into the house. He saw the blood and went to his knees," Gil-Galad said solemnly. Cerena growled out a curse.
"I'm not sure how to handle this. Now that it's started…I doubt this is going to be a one time thing. Orcs are not strangers to using their teeth," Cerena said, looking down at Avalaer, who was pouting quietly in her hold. Mîrlen hummed.
"I don't suppose you want to file their fangs?" he asked. Cerena gave him a sharp look that made him put up his hands placatingly. "Only a suggestion!"
"I know…that you are trying to avoid it at all costs, but perhaps a swat on the bottom would dissuade?" Gil-Galad suggested tentatively. Cerena sighed. They were trying to avoid that. Spanking seemed so ineffective for little orcs. 'Don't hit or you'll get hit.' However, she could not deny that she herself had been spanked. She'd never felt unloved, or threatened, and it had not bred resentment between her and her parents. She hadn't really meant to pinch Nelly so hard, but it had been the only way, short of sticking her fingers in the child's mouth and prying, that she could think of to make her release.
"I'll discuss it with Elrond. I don't really want to make her feel threatened. I feel that would likely only exacerbate her orcish nature…but she cannot do that. Not to her sister, not to anyone," Cerena said, looking down at the petulant child in her grasp.
With their picnic ruined, Elrond gathered up his entourage and they returned to Imladris proper. The mood was somber for the return, with Nelly pouting because she was in trouble, Ava pouting because she was hurt, and their parents both thinking on how to fix this new problem. They did not discuss it until they were by themselves, after leaving the girls with their nanny.
"What are we going to do about this?" Cerena asked, flopping down in one of Elrond's office chairs unceremoniously. Elrond himself sighed and leaned forward, bracing himself on his elbows against his desk.
"I do not know. I don't like the idea of spanking either of them. But biting…the boys bit and scratched, but they did not have fangs that pierced skin. Celebrían was able to get them to stop by threatening to take their favorite toys. She did take them a few times, before it stopped. But we do not have the luxury of trial and error with this," Elrond replied. No, there wasn't the luxury of allowing those sharp little orc teeth to pierce too much flesh before it was a problem. Not only that…what would the taste of blood do to Aranell? She was part orc, and it was said that orcs very much liked the taste of elf blood, that it was as sweet to them as a treat. If a little mouth got the taste for elf-blood, it would be scandalous.
"Let's just take it one day at a time," Cerena replied, to which her husband agreed.
But they did not have to wait another day. Their nanny, Carinwen, brought Nelly to them after a few hours, the girl yowling angrily and Carinwen with a bandage across the top of her hand. Carinwen seemed a little miffed at being bitten, but forgiving since Nelly was so young.
The next few days Cerena kept Aranell with her as she worked, making sure the girl did not leave her sight. Nelly cried for her sister, and Cerena knew that Ava was likely also crying to be with her sister, but until they solved the biting problem she couldn't leave them together. The solution presented itself on the fourth day of isolating the twins, when Cerena caught Nelly with a skein of her yarn, gnawing on it as little ones tend to do. Cerena took back the yarn and Nelly, taking offense, latched onto her mother's hand. Cerena yelped and started to pinch Nelly to get her to release,when the little orcling did it on her own, spitting and sputtering as though she had something foul in her mouth.
Cerena gasped softly in realization, before she spared her daughter a little snarl.
"Orc blood doesn't taste as sweet as elf blood, does it now?" she asked. The girls had never actually drawn blood on her while breastfeeding, so they had never tasted her blood.
She presented the idea to Elrond after supper, when the girls were asleep. It was the only time they had been together for the last several days.
"You want to…smear blood on her lips when she bites?" Elrond asked, lowering his comb.
"My blood, specifically. Orc blood is bitter. I think she's biting because one, it's a way to express herself, and two, and this is important, it tastes good to her. So if we interrupt the sweet taste with something bitter, it should, in theory, stop her from wanting to do it," Cerena said. "It's either that or a swat right now. Taking toys isn't going to work with an orc," Cerena added, exasperated.
"It seems unsanitary….but I suppose it's worth a try. We knew there would be many unconventional parenting techniques we would need to employ…but purposely smearing our daughter's mouth with blood never crossed my mind…" Elrond cringed. Cerena sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry," she said. Elrond crossed the room to her, sitting beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him and resting his chin on the crown of her head.
"Our adventure is different, but I would not trade it for the world. You are mine, and the girls are mine, and the little one who has not come yet is mine. We will do what we have to in order to get them to adulthood in one piece. If that means a few strange practices, then so be it. It's a little like soaping one's mouth, is it not? An…oral deterrent," he said. Cerena gave a watery laugh.
"Oral deterrent sounds dirty," she snickered.
Elrond gave a fond, but exasperated sigh.
Avalaer awoke with a start, looking around her room frantically. Her sister slept peacefully in the next bed, curled around her dolly that Maka had given her. Her own doll lay on the floor at the side of her bed, having fallen there while she slept. Her dream had been so frightening, and seemed so overwhelming in the dead of night that she began to cry. For a few minutes she was too scared to move, before she finally drew up enough courage to slip from her bed. She briefly contemplated crawling into bed with her sister as she had done before. Sleeping in the bed with Nelly was often enough to calm her back to sleep. But the dream tonight….
She reached up and opened her door as quietly as she could. She did not want to wake anyone on her way to Ada and Nana's room. Her bare feet made no sound but also began to get cold on the stone floor of the hallway. She made it to her destination without meeting any of the grown-ups who walked the hallways. They would take her back to her bed and she would be scared all night!
She carefully opened the door to Ada and Nana's room, slipping inside quietly. The doorway to the balcony was open on a cool spring night, with only a sheer curtain across it to keep out the bugs. She could see the moonlight making the light stone of the balcony glow silver, streaked only with the dark shadows of a tree's branches.
She approached Nana's side of the bed, stalling when she saw her mother's sleeping face. Nana could sometimes be very grumpy in the middle of the night, but her arms were strong and her rumbles could soothe away any nightmare, and Ava needed it tonight.
"Nana…" she whispered. Nana did not move, her breathing still soft and deep. "Nana," Nelly said, just a little louder.
"Hn..?" Nana made a soft noise, but did not wake. Nelly felt the tears come again, remembering her nightmare.
"Nana…" she sobbed. Nana's yellow eyes popped open and she raised her head. She looked at her for several long moments, sniffing twice.
"Avalaer, what are you doing, melui?" Nana asked softly. But Ava could not answer, only cry and reach for her Nana. Nana moved forward and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her up onto the bed. She rolled, and Ava was suddenly between Ada and Nana. Nana's soft sleeping dress was pale yellow, like the moon, and Ava could feel the soft fabric under her fingers as she clung to her Nana and cried. Nana's round belly was warm and stiff underneath her.
"What is the matter?" Ada said, his voice rumbly like gravel, because he was sleepy.
"Ava is crying. I think she had a bad dream," Nana said. Nana wrapped her arms around Ava, and soon she could feel and hear the soft sound of Nana's chest rumbling. It was like a call she could not ignore, and the tension bled out of her, her tears eventually stopping. Ada's hand stroked her back, and she could feel the prickle of Nana's claws as she gently stroked her head. It was enough to soothe her into sleep. She did not dream the rest of the night.
When she woke again she was still in Nana and Ada's room, but she was alone in the big bed. She sat up with a gasp, but noticed Nana was sitting in her rocking chair, fabric in her hands as she sewed.
"Good morning, dewdrop," Nana said cheerfully. Ava allowed herself to be calm again, reaching up to wipe the sleepy dust from her eyes. "Come now, it's time for breakfast. Ada woke up ages ago and you know how grumpy he gets when he doesn't get his buttered toast," Nana laughed. Ava gave a mild smile and crawled down from the big bed. Nana put away her sewing and held out her hand. Her black claws were shiny in the morning light, and Ava did not hesitate to take her mother's hand. They walked back to her room, where Nana helped her and Nelly get dressed for the day. Ava was in her favorite blue dress, while Nana had to practically stuff Nelly into a dress the color of the grass outside.
Then they all walked to breakfast, and for a little while Ava forgot about her nightmare. Nana made them a bowl of yummy porridge and even put some honey on it, and several little smoked fishes. Nelly liked to eat them whole, crunching the bones quite cheerfully, but Ava liked for Nana to pull most of the bones out of hers. If she got one here or there it wasn't so bad, but she didn't like her fish to be crunchy like Nelly did.
After breakfast Nana walked them to Carinwen's room, where they had started identifying colors and shapes.
"Okay, Carinwen. If you need me I'm going to be helping down in the lower barns. They're moving in some of the wolves today and one has a young pup. They do better when I have Lily down there," Nana said.
Ava felt like she had been dropped into cold water. This was how her nightmare had started! She jerked her hand from Carinwen's grasp and ran to Nana, grabbing on to her skirt.
"No, no!" Ava cried, tugging on her Nana's long dress.
"Ava, darling, it's all right. Lily loves to show off her pup to the other wolves, and it helps them socialize," Nana explained gently, trying to disengage her fingers from the fabric of her skirt.
"No, Nana! No, please!" Ava cried. Nana frowned.
"Avalaer, you will be fine," Nana said in her grumpy voice. Ava almost let her go at the sound of the voice. But then her nightmare came rushing back to her and she dissolved into wailing sobs.
If Nana went down to the barn she would get hurt! And if Nana got hurt then her little brother in Nana's tummy would go away!
Cerena stared down at her daughter, confused at the inconsolable behavior. This was not the mild tantrum of one of her daughters wanting to spend more time with her. Avalaer was…well, to be honest she looked quite terrified of something.
"Ava, darling, what is the matter?" Cerena asked, slowly coming to her knees. Ava was shaking her head and crying loudly, her face red with the effort of her own sobs. She was gripping her mother's skirt so tightly that Cerena would likely have cut her skin trying to pry her loose.
"No, Nana! No, no!" Ava sobbed.
"You do not want me to go help the wolves?" Cerena asked. Ava shook her head, pressing her face against Cerena's dress. "Why ever not?" Cerena prompted. But Ava could not answer. Cerena hummed. As important as socializing the young wolves were, she could not in good conscience leave her daughter this distraught. "Would you feel better if I stayed today?" Cerena asked.
"My Lady, if you are needed elsewhere, we can simply distract her until you can slip away," Carinwen suggested. They had done so for tantrums before, distracting the girls with a toy or game while Cerena disappeared to take care of business around the Homely House.
"No, it's alright. This doesn't just feel like a tantrum. Mîrlen has been helping us anyway, he will be alright by himself. Lily listens to him well enough, and Nimtellen has the beginnings of a good Alpha," Cerena commented idly. "Alright then, my little monsters. I guess you're stuck with me today," Cerena said, leaning forward and looping her arm under Ava's bottom and standing up with her, the effort making her grunt. Ava released her mother's skirts and instead wrapped her arms around her neck, her tears turning from terrified to relieved.
Nelly was a little disappointed not to be spending time with Carinwen, as she liked their nanny, but she followed along as her mother carried Ava along with her. Nana carried Ava all the way to the library, where she spoke briefly to Erestor. She knew he had been needing some supplies restocked in the library, so now was as good a time as any to get his lists to send off. Nana set Ava down as she bent over the lists, arguing with the tall elf over something he had written. Ava looked tired, but more calm now that Nana wasn't going down to see the wolves. Nelly approached her sister, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a little teardrop glass shard that seemed to glow with its own light. Mîrlen had given it to her one day, and it was comforting and warm. She held out the little trinket for her sister. She needed it more.
But Ava did not take the trinket. She just stood and stared at Nana, who was telling Erestor that he didn't need fourteen pots of ink. They spoke on this topic for many minutes, neither one really gaining ground with the other. There was suddenly a commotion at the door, and another elf rushed in, his face smeared with blood from a cut on his temple.
"Lady Cerena!" he called. Cerena whirled from her conversation with Erestor.
"Eru above, Heledh! What has happened?" she cried.
"Lady, there was a rotten support in the lower barn, and the loft collapsed. The new wolf and her pup were injured, and young Master Mîrlen nearly got his head caved in. They've gone for Lord Elrond to patch him," Heledh said. Cerena blinked rapidly for a few moments, before looking straight at Ava.
"Erestor, we will pick this up later," Cerena said, her voice brooking no room for disagreement. Erestor did not argue. "Erestor, take the girls back to Carinwen-," Ava wailed. "Avalaer!" Cerena barked. "I am not going to the barns, do you understand? I am going to see Mîrlen." Cerena said firmly. "Lord Erestor is going to take you to Carinwen. I will come back when I make sure Mîrlen is alright," she added. This seemed alright with Ava, who allowed her hand to be taken up by the stately elf. His other hand gathered Nelly, and he was off.
Cerena ran for the Hall of Healing, going as fast as her pregnant little body would take her.
Mîrlen was out cold, his head wrapped in clean white bandages and his arm splinted and draped across his chest. One of the big supports had come down nearly on top of him, and he'd thrown up his hand to protect himself. The beam had shattered his wrist and nearly split his skull open. The new wolf had a wrenched leg and her cub had been scratched up as they pulled him from the debris, but they were both expected to recover fully.
Cerena approached the bed slowly, wincing at the deep scratches across Mîrlen's face.
"He came very close to losing his eye," Elrond said, looking at the deep scratch that started in his eyebrow, nicking his eyelid and digging in deeply to his cheek.
"God above," Cerena murmured. She reached forward, carefully touching an undamaged part of his cheek. "I was supposed to be down there with him," she added.
"Cerena…" Elrond murmured, thinking she was feeling guilty. And she was, but that wasn't the whole of what was bothering her.
"Elrond…I think Avalaer knew something bad was going to happen," she said, looking up at him. Elrond tilted his head slightly.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Between her nightmare last night, and her strange behavior today…I think she saw the accident, and desperately wanted to keep me from going down there….I can't be one hundred percent sure, though, unless we could ask her, but of course they're too young to speak well…" Cerena said.
"You think she had a vision?" Elrond asked. Foresight was not a gift to a child. He remembered his own fractured first visions, and the terror they had brought him.
"Maybe. I think we should consider it, based on her behavior," she mentioned. Elrond gave his wife a tender look.
"Of course, my love. We will keep an eye on the situation," Elrond agreed. There was a low groan from the bed, and Cerena moved aside as Elrond glided to Mîrlen's bedside.
"Can you hear me, Mîrlen?" Elrond asked.
"My head…I feel like it's splitting open," he groaned.
"I can give you something for the pain in just a little bit, but I need to know if there was any damage to your brain. Does my voice sound distorted?" Elrond asked.
"No…" Mîrlen grunted.
"Can you open your eyes?" Elrond asked. Mîrlen's eyelids fluttered slightly, before both eyes opened. The eye that had almost been damaged did not open quite as wide, but there was no visible damage to the eye itself. Elrond leaned down, looking into his eyes and studying the movements of them.
"I think you're concussed, but I don't think you knocked your brain loose," Elrond said gently. Mîrlen gave him a weak thumb's up. "Cerena is going to keep you company while I go mix your medicine,"
"Oh Mîrlen, I'm so sorry I wasn't down there," Cerena murmured, gently running her fingers over his hair.
"I'm rather glad you weren't, all things considered," Mîrlen spoke, wincing slightly.
"Well, the good news is you're being tended by the best healer this side of the Sundering Seas," Cerena added. The corner of Mîrlen's mouth twitched up.
"Lucky me," he purred. It was not long before Elrond returned with a cup of medicine, which he put in Cerena's hand while he very gently got Mîrlen into a sitting position. Mîrlen heaved slightly from the nausea of a head wound, but did not empty the contents of his stomach. Elrond then received the cup of medicine and held it to Mîrlen's mouth. He drank the medicine dutifully, only making a face when he was done. "I wasn't aware that vomit could taste minty,"
"There's peppermint to help with the nausea," Elrond explained mildly. Then, from a pocket in his healer's smock he produced a length of cloth. "If your eyes become sensitive to light, you can lay this across your face," he added, putting the cloth on the table beside his bed.
"Thanks," Mîrlen murmured. The medicine was already making him tired. He welcomed the blessed embrace of Irmo and slept. If he dreamed he did not remember it, and did not wake for many hours.
Cerena, content that Mîrlen was not in immediate danger, went to retrieve her daughters.
The newest little Lord of Imladris came in a much more subtle way than his sisters had. He was not breach, nor did his mother have to be ushered back into the circles of the living by magic deeper and older than the elves. The birth was almost easy, if something so traumatic could be called that. Since he came into the world as one day gave way to another, in the deepest part of the night, Cerena and Elrond named him Elindaw, or Star of Twilight.
Only a few weeks after the birth, Elrond awoke in the night, looking around for a moment as he tried to make sense of what had woken him. Cerena was asleep, cocooned in her blanket and revealing only her closed eyes and eyebrows to the world. He could not help the soft smile that curled his lips. He slipped gently from the bed, making sure that he did not stir her. She deserved every moment of sleep she could get, especially with the new baby.
He looked guiltily over at the bassinet that sat in a moonbeam. He heard his littlest son grunt in his sleep. His entrance into the world had been so much less traumatizing than the girls…some days it was hard to remember that such a thing had happened. Then the agony of feeling Cerena's aura flee her would come back to him, and he would feel a deep, resounding ache in his chest. He had felt something similar when Elros had passed beyond the circles of the world.
He had been in the room with him, in those final moments. His brother's face, which he always remembered in bright youth, had been wan and gray. Wrinkled with age that was foreign to him. His hair, which had once been black as a raven's wing, was steel gray and white. Those hands, which had been strong and sure, trembled in his brother's grasp, covered in spots from age. He had felt his brother's spirit flee his body. He had not been able to break completely, holding himself together for the sake of his nephews.
But once he had gotten a moment alone he had shattered. He had never known a moment without his brother until that day. Their parents' departure, their time with the Fëanorian brothers…all of it had been experienced with his brother. Oh, of course he had gone off and had his adventures, his Kingship and his rule…but he had been alive. And then suddenly he wasn't there. And he had felt that grief and agony when Cerena had died in his arms. And he knew, in far too short of a time for an Eldar, he would feel it again as Aragorn and Arwen ceased to be.
It was getting harder and harder to ignore the memory of it. Every day that passed…every day behind him was a day closer to Arwen's death. And each of those days was as a fresh wound, slowly consuming his soul. He was not sure how long he would be able to stand it. He wanted…he wanted to make sure the children reached their majority before he sailed. Because he knew when he left these shores he wanted Cerena with him, she had earned a place in Valinor and he would not leave her behind. But his children…they deserved their own choice as well and he did not want to force any of the youngest to sail because of his own weakness.
Suddenly the room was too small, the air too warm. He walked out onto his balcony, looking up at his father's star. Would he be there to greet him when they took the Straight Path into Valinor? Would his mother come to see him? He wasn't sure if he was comforted by either of those thoughts. Those people had not been there for him growing up. Makalaurë had been more of a father to him than Ëarendil, and he had learned to live without his mother's love.
A flash of light caught his eye, and he looked down to see Mîrlen practicing his unarmed stances in one of the gardens. As he moved fire twirled along his body. It looked frightening, watching him nearly consumed by flames. But he knew by the spirit's testimony that those flames did not harm him. The fire he produced felt to him like a breath on his skin. And at his full power that fire would not hurt anything that he did not want it to. Meaning that the flowers, the grass and his clothing would not suffer burns from him unless he willed it. It was frightening and exhilarating to think of what he might be capable of in a few years' time.
All too soon his mind sank again, back into the mire of mortality. Perhaps if the Valar were kind he would be able to make it to Elindaw's majority comfortably. And if they were not he would wait stubbornly. He had existed on these shores many years beyond what he had thought was possible, he would exist a few more.
Mîrlen opened his eyes from meditation, looking at the large eyes of the toddler poking him in the face.
"You sleep?" Nelly asked. Mîrlen smiled at her.
"No, darling, I'm not asleep," he said, opening his arms. She grinned in return, flashing sharp little teeth, and crawled into his lap.
"Don't let her bully you," he heard Cerena say.
"Such a rare gem could never be a bully," Mîrlen said indulgently. "Will you meditate with me, little princess?" he added, looking down at the squirming child in his grasp. Nelly looked up, tilting her head.
"Med-ate?" Nelly asked.
"Yes, meditate. You must sit quietly and think about the world around you. Connect with its energy, and feel the magic of Eru's power in everything around you," he explained gently.
"Good luck," Cerena snickered, setting up the picnic blanket. Ava helped her mother smooth out the thick lawn blanket, watching Nelly and Mîrlen interact.
"Come now, my sweet. Close your eyes and be still," Mîrlen said. Nelly, curious, closed her eyes and tried to sit still in brother Mîrlen's grasp. He wrapped his arms around her, taking her little hands in his as his own eyes closed.
Immediately he could feel the Ainulandalë humming beneath him, its Discord more apparent in Arda than it was in Valinor. In the Land of the Valar, where the Fourteen resided, their own Song mostly drowned out the sound of Melkor's Discord. But here, where he had sewn much darkness and terror, the disharmony was much more obvious. He concentrated on the things he could immediately feel. The grass beneath him, swirling with Yavanna's voice, and the wind, with Manwë's deep timbre.
"Can you feel it, princess?" Mîrlen asked.
Nelly did not really feel anything other than her brother's grasp of her hands. It was peaceful in his grasp, and she felt safe, but if there was something else she was supposed to feel then she did not know it.
"She's probably not old enough to feel anything," Cerena said, watching their interaction with interest. Mîrlen had done this with her, as well, holding her hand to try and let her feel the Ainulandalë through him. She had felt a deep humming that made her bones ache, but she could not feel the individual Notes like he could.
Mîrlen opened his eyes again.
"Perhaps. But they are a unique mix of Discord and Harmony. I should like to continue to try, so long as their parents are amenable," he said, looking up at Cerena.
"As long as it doesn't hurt them," Cerena shrugged.
"No, the Song will not hurt them," Mîrlen said. Nelly wriggled from his grasp, running to where her nana was setting out fresh, cubed melon. Ava stood straight, toddling to where Mîrlen sat. She stood patiently in front of him, and he tilted his head at her.
"Do you want to try, little one?" he asked, holding out his hands. With a toothy grin she clambered into his embrace, sitting like he had told Nelly to. She shut her eyes as he instructed, putting her hands into her lap. His warm hands rested on her shoulders, comforting in his grasp. She could hear nana's dress rustling, the fine fabric like a whisper. She could hear Nelly already chewing on melon, her exuberant chomping drawing Nana's attention and getting her sister scolded. She could hear her brother nearby, grunting and squirming in his covered cot.
"It's not the sounds around you that you need to listen for," she heard her brother murmur softly.
One time Ava had leaned against a banister that had a cloth draped over it, a large curtain that was being aired out. Not being able to see the spindles of the banister, she had slipped right between them, the cloth giving her no support. She felt a sensation similar to that fall, and then she heard other things. It was like singing, but the song was not like what they sang in the Hall of Fire. The air was deep and low, and beneath them was soft and sweet. There was another sound, though, and it was…bad. It made her think of the time Nelly had thrown a fit during one of the songs in the Hall. Her voice had been so shrill, nearly overtaking the sound of the singers. It was a little scary to hear it, and it made her open her eyes with a gasp.
"Did you…did you hear something?" Mîrlen asked. Ava frowned.
"Sing good. Then bad," she said, and stuck out her tongue. His eyes, bright like the honey nana put on their oatmeal, seemed to glow for several moments.
"I expect to see great things from you," he said, before a grin shattered the serious look on his face and he gave her a tickle. She shrieked with laughter.
"Come, eat with us," Cerena called, unaware of the moment her daughter had just experienced. Mîrlen set aside the inhabitant of his lap, who pouted mildly at having lost her seat, but her mother calling her for food cheered her immediately. Their lunch was a basket full of small sandwiches of many kinds, and sweet juice from the kitchens.
"How is your training coming?" Cerena asked. Mîrlen made a face as he chewed his cucumber sandwich.
"Lord Glorfindel is a demon," he commented mildly. Cerena snickered.
"Believe me, I know," she countered. "Nelly, do not take your sister's food," Cerena growled lightly. Nelly reluctantly handed back the sandwich she had snatched. Ava proceeded to shove the rest of it in her mouth so that it could not be taken again. Cerena clicked her tongue in disapproval, but watched her daughter closely to make sure she didn't choke on the mouthful. When the danger was passed she went back to her own food.
"However, this shell is slowly getting stronger under his tutelage, so I endure it," Mîrlen added, his own golden gaze having been watching the little girl lest she choke. He was pretty sure Glorfindel was using this training as a blanket revenge for everything he had been guilty of, and the knowledge was both annoying and humbling. He did not complain. Not when the Balrog Slayer knocked him on his arse in the dirt, not when his muscles screamed for mercy, and not when he went to bed covered in bruises from the training swords and staves. He simply did as he had always done: he endured.
"Did you finish your mirror talkers?" Cerena asked. Mîrlen perked up, grinning broadly.
"Not quite. I've heard a few sounds through them, so I think we are making headway, but it's difficult to talk long enough with Arin on the Path of Dreams to get it tweaked just right," Mîrlen said. He had come up with the rune array, and hoped he would be able to use it to contact her, using mirrors and gems to cast an image of her face on his end, as well as an image of him to her, as well as allowing them to hear each other's voice.
"Well I believe you can do it," Cerena said with a smile. Mîrlen beamed at her, looking every bit like a plucky teenage boy and not an Ageless spirit.
She was very eager to see him succeed, because even something as innocuous as that could be a great benefit to the world.
"My Lord, the King's entourage approaches," Erestor said, bowing slightly. Elrond smiled widely.
"Very good, double check that the guest quarters have been prepared, and send word to the servants," Elrond said, standing from his desk. Erestor could not suppress a smile at his Lord's exuberance. He had found out several months ago that the King Elessar himself was coming through to check on an expedition that had been set to re-establish Fornost so that he could reunite the Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor. The plans were for Boromir to head the Stewardship of Arnor, to restore the long-lost gem to its rightful beauty again, while Faramir took up Stewardship of Gondor. Boromir had specifically asked for this responsibility, equal parts eager to make his mark by helping to renew the Lost Kingdom and eager to give his brother the status and power he deserved as well. Elessar allowed him this, and Boromir had come through the Homely House nearly two years ago, with a few foremen of Gondor and a few of the Dwarven Kingdoms, and they would hire hands as they passed through the other human places.
Elessar was coming through to check on the progress, but Elrond was fairly certain the King of Gondor also wanted a break. He had received word of Aragorn's first-born son, Eldarion, being born, and knew how excited courts could be for the birth of a son. Elessar was probably pressed to give another son soon, one for each Kingdom.
He met Cerena in the hallway, a daughter under each arm and Elin in a sling tied in front of her. The girls were in their play clothes, and Cerena was on her way to make them presentable to the King, as well as hand off Elin to Carinwen.
"You know Estel will not stand on such pomp," Elrond said gently. Cerena gave him a look.
"Let it never be said the Lady of Imladris was slack in her duties as a warm hostess," Cerena sniffed, and Elrond suppressed a grin as she continued on her way. He made a short stop by the guest quarters to make his own check that the King had adequate lodging, even though he would likely only stay a little while to refresh before continuing to the site Boromir was setting up.
"Are we late?"
He looked up to see Elladan and Elrohir rushing through, both smeared with dirt and sweat from the wilds.
"You will both go straight to the showers, do not delay anywhere and do not touch anything until you are clean!" Elrond barked. The brothers scattered like roaches in the light, and Elrond huffed slightly. He was unsure how Eldar ended up so filthy, but he also had enough self-preservation not to ask. Satisfied that the rooms were adequate, he set out for the courtyard. He was actually startled to see Cerena already there, resplendent in a gown fitting her station. It was a lovely thing of sky blue, one of her favorite colors. The girls were in dresses as well, Ava in yellow and Nelly in green. Their hair was in double tails, with white bows standing out starkly against their black curls. Cerena's hair was cascading over her back and shoulders like a dark mane, pulled away from her face with a few artful braids. Her crescent circlet sparkled against her forehead. He reached up in a moment of panic, thinking he had forgotten his own circlet, and was relieved to feel the metal beneath his fingers.
"How did you get here first?" Elrond asked her. Cerena raised a dark brow elegantly.
"Women's secrets," she said, and winked. Mîrlen came up to stand beside her, himself looking smart in formal robes in the elven style. They were the color of rust, which matched very well with his dark hair and vibrant amber eyes.
"Nice," Cerena said, carefully smoothing down one of Mîrlen's curls. Elrond watched him preen under Cerena's ministrations. The boy was absolutely smitten with Cerena and he was not sure if he should find comfort or concern in it. He determined that for the moment it was a problem for the future.
They did not have to wait long for the entourage to enter the main courtyard. Elessar was astride a large white horse, its mane glittering with a few ribbons of Gondorian blue. It was wearing full barding of shining silver armor, with a blue and white caparison underneath. The knights with him had similar dressings for their horses, but their caparisons were of dove gray.
"Behold, the King of Gondor!" called his herald.
"Hail, the King of Gondor, long may he reign!" Elrond called in greeting. "Come, visitors, and experience the welcome of the Last Homely House. The Lady of Imladris will lead you to your lodging," he said, gesturing at Cerena.
"Is that an orc?" one of the Knights asked, not quite as quietly as he thought. There was a clank as one of the other knights elbowed him. But Elessar dismounted, turning slightly to his knights.
"Frid," he said, his voice stern but not unkind. Frid was glad he was wearing a helmet, because he was flushing in embarrassment.
"My apologies, my king," he stammered. But the King merely gave him a mild smile.
"Do not be sorry, be better," he said, and the others took that as their cue to dismount. There was movement as stable hands moved forward to start to receive the horses, and Elessar moved forward to meet Cerena as she approached them.
"Greetings to you, Lady of Imladris," Aragorn said cheerfully.
"My my, don't you look handsome in the regalia of Gondor," Cerena practically purred, curtseying politely to the King.
"None can compare to the Queen in beauty, but the star of Imladris looks quite striking on you," he complemented. Cerena had added the six-pointed star and six rays onto the blouse of this dress in silver thread. It was very much a statement piece. "And here! The littlest ladies of Imladris," Aragorn commented, dropping to a knee in front of the two girls. Nelly looked up at him curiously, and Ava hid behind Mîrlen, peering out to watch her sister. Nelly approached the King, looking up into his whiskered face. She had never seen anyone grow hair from their face before. She reached up, shiny black nails twinkling in the light, and touched Aragorn's face lightly. "I reckon you have not seen a furry chin before, being around all these elves," he said. Nelly grinned, showing pointed white teeth. Aragorn stood then, getting a good look at Mîrlen. "And young Mîrlen, right? Goodness, you have grown. A few more years and you might be as tall as I!" Aragorn said jovially. Mîrlen smiled lightly and bowed.
"It would be an honor, Lord King, to come even close to your stature," he said diplomatically.
"Oho! You'll be a charmer," Aragorn winked. Mîrlen ducked his head, looking quite shy. "And where is the littlest Lord of Rivendell?" Aragorn asked politely.
"Elindaw is asleep, as infants tend to do. Not much fun for the first few years," Cerena laughed. "Come, I know you are all tired from travel. You have rooms prepared for you, and we will feast to friendships from afar," she added. Mîrlen took the girls' hands, and began to lead them away even as Cerena motioned for the King and his knights to follow her. She smiled as they walked, watching as these Men tried to resist the urge to look around like children in wonder. She saw a few of them eyeing her curiously under their helmets. Just because they may have been informed she was an orc did not mean they had ever seen anything like her. She did not have the stature of the high orcs that sometimes traded with Minas Tirith, nor the stature of elves. She was the size of an average woman, meaning that among the stately elves and men of stature she was easily overlooked. But her personality and the air of her authority revealed its own regality.
"King Elessar, your room is your old quarters. We rearranged some of the sitting area to account for your nightguard, and the others are right next to you," Cerena explained.
"You are gracious, Lady," Aragorn commented.
"You are welcome to the baths, and a servant will attend you there, and provide clothes while yours are laundered. We will have a smith check your armor if you wish, and any clothing or armor that needs to be repaired will be done so at no expense," Cerena said, more for the benefit of the Knights than for Aragorn. He knew the drill. "A servant will come to you and fetch you for supper. Is there anything that I can do for you in the meantime, my Lords?"
"You have honored us with your generosity, and we will be respectable guests," Aragorn said. Cerena curtsied lightly, before gliding away from them. Then Aragorn gathered his knights up like his own train of ducklings, ushering them into the rooms they would inhabit for the next few days.
Aragorn glided quietly along the hallway, the borrowed elf-slippers allowing him to make no sound. He had shaken his guard already. They had no hope of following him through these hallways, which he knew intimately. The moon was bright this night, and the hallways were mostly abandoned, save an elf here or there finishing their evening chores. He stole into the gardens, inhaling the fragrance deeply as he walked.
He came suddenly on Mîrlen, who was sitting beneath a tree, fidgeting with what looked like a hand mirror.
"What have you, young man?" Aragorn asked. Mîrlen nearly dropped the mirror, instead setting it aside, reflective side down.
"A project, my Lord. I am a tinkerer," he answered, standing to his feet and bowing to the King.
"May I see?" Aragorn asked mildly. It wasn't that he did not believe him, but it was an odd thing to tinker with. It was far more likely that a young man might have been getting up to some sort of mischief.
"I…er…of-of course," Mîrlen stammered, leaning down to pick up the mirror. He held it out towards Aragorn, who took it lightly and began to look it over.
It was a normal looking mirror of polished silver. Its face was smooth and unblemished, showing him a reflection of himself. He flipped it over, noticing scratches in the other side, as well as a clear faceted gem in the center. He looked closer, noticing that it was like something was written in swirling patterns along the back, but he did not recognize the letters.
"What is written here?" Aragorn asked.
"It is just designs, my lord. I did not forge this mirror, but I was practicing engraving in the material," Mîrlen responded. It was a half-truth, and from the slight pursing of the King's mouth, he knew it too. Mîrlen felt his stomach bottom out when a soft chime sounded, and several of the letters lit up softly. Aragorn's eyebrows drew upwards, and he turned the mirror over. This time, instead of his own face in the mirror, the face of a young woman stared back at him.
Her eyes were the color of a clear summer sky, nearly glowing in intensity. Her skin was pale, her cheeks pink like someone who had been sick and was recovering. Her hair was the color of fresh snow and was cut short. Her pale brows drew down, marring the lovely face slightly.
"Who are you? Where is Mairon?" she asked.
He heard the boy suck in a breath. Aragorn looked up from the mirror, taking a good long look at 'Mîrlen.' Suddenly several things made sense, in a horrible way. His first instinct should have been to use the mirror as a weapon and attempt to cave the skull of this...creature in, but he stayed his hand. Instead he looked back down into the face projected in the mirror.
"Mairon?" he asked softly. The look on her face was almost comical. She seemed to realize she'd said something she shouldn't, and suddenly the mirror's face flashed, and his reflection stared back up at him. He lowered the mirror to look at the boy. "Does Lord Elrond know what you are?" he simply asked. Mîrlen nodded jerkily. "And Cerena?" Again he nodded. Aragorn held out the mirror, and Mîrlen reached forward with a shaky hand, retrieving the small item. "I am assuming that you stood in judgement for your sins," Aragorn continued.
"I stood before the Valar, who took me before Father himself," Mîrlen said, his voice barely above a whisper. Aragorn did not envy him that meeting, but it did little to explain what was happening.
"So I am to understand you are here by permission?" he asked. Mîrlen nodded, feeling as though he was going to pass out. It was as though he stood before the Valar again, the weight of his sins making his shoulders bow slightly.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Are you here for mischief?" Aragorn asked, his voice a little harder. Mîrlen shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. "Why send you back? And why in such a form?" he continued.
"They wanted me to...to learn to be dependant on the power of another, one who did not mean me ill, like a parent or guardian. Cerena filled that role, and Lord Elrond as well. I knew the love of brothers and sisters, and the love of Father, but I had not experienced the love of a mother before," Mîrlen replied.
Aragorn regarded the being before him. The threat of Sauron had been what kept him focused. But it was the power of the Dark Lord that had killed his father, and his father's father, and all the way back to Elendil himself. Isildur had died from his own foolishness in taking the Ring.
"Do you control the orcs?" Aragorn asked. The boy- spirit-, shook his head.
"They are autonomous now. Those who could not deal without leadership have found themselves in Rohan, under the command of Captain Hugi and Cerena's city of orcs and men. Those who would still fight have mostly been wiped out," he responded.
"So I ask again: why are you here?" Aragorn's voice was sharp but not unkind.
"I ruined everything in my blasted pride and my desire for order. I toppled empires, cities, and the wills of Men. I destroyed kingdoms and families, made war and spread fire and discord in the name of my Master, whose power I sought to achieve my goals," he said, unconsciously looking toward the east, where the ruins of Mordor were. He looked back at the King of Gondor, who looked so much like Isildur that it almost startled him. "Morgoth was not a kind master, and that is an understatement. Even I, his greatest captain, did not escape his wrath or punishment. He broke me," he said, and Aragorn saw a shadow pass over his eyes. He had seen that look before, in the eyes of men who had been tortured. Those who had experienced pain so great that even the memory of it was enough to make them afraid. He remembered Cerena speaking of how broken Sauron had been, lashing out in pain and desperation. "He broke me into dust and remade me how he wanted. I had no choice but to obey. My will was forfeit the moment I left the side of the Valar."
"So why leave?" Aragorn asked, trying to understand. How many times had he heard the story? How many times had he cursed this creature for this decision? Who could stand to leave the side of the just Valar in service of Morgoth? How could he have been so fooled?
"Power. Morgoth had power and I needed it. I wanted to show this world the power of my father, that he was not some distant figure to be ridiculed and forgotten. I wanted order and neat utility. I rather thought it was a mistake to give you lot free will, seeing what you had done with it, and I wanted to wipe away the chaos of your choice," he answered honestly. Aragorn felt himself bristle a little, but was quiet. "Have you ever prayed for death, Elfstone?" Mîrlen asked.
"No. I have felt the gnawing of starvation, and the icy grip of cold so deep that to fall asleep would be death. I have felt the burning sands of the south, where water is as precious as gold and the sun can steal a life in hours. I have been bitten by the steel of a sword, struck deep by a spear, slapped, spat upon as a ragged ranger, threatened by orcs and men alike…but nothing ever bowed me low enough to wish that my life was over," Aragorn answered.
"I have. My body twisted and broken, my shoulders bowed with torture, kneeling at my Master's feet. I begged Námo to come drag me home," Mîrlen said. He blinked, and there were tears on his cheek. "But I was alone. After the fall of Morgoth I almost….I was afraid. I was a coward, and I was afraid they would bind me up in those same chains and throw me outside of reality with him and the thought of it was so deeply terrifying that I fled, and brooded, and schemed. I became Annatar. Do you know that Galadriel never liked me then?" Mîrlen laughed mirthlessly. "She could not see everything about me, I knew she had been trained by Melian and hid most of my intent…but she knew I was hiding something. I remember her speaking against me, that bright wisp of an elleth, trying to make a name for herself," he said, grinning wryly. Aragorn could not help but shiver a bit at the sort of creature who could call Lady Galadriel a 'wisp of an elleth.' "She wouldn't take a thing from me, no gift, no offering, nothing! There was nothing I could make that she would accept…but shortly after I was reborn as Mîrlen…during the time of your crowning and Cerena's wedding, when she was in the city, I made her a bracelet of twisted leather and wire," he shook his head, as if in disbelief. "The things I've made over the years, creations of Power. Weapons, jewelry….and she accepted braided leather cord! And do you know what she said to me?" he said, looking up to catch the gray Númenorian eyes. " 'This gift you give in earnest will I take,'" he said.
"It is said the Lady Galadriel can see into the hearts of the living, and see their intent. If your previous intent was not true, it is no wonder she would not accept anything from you. It heartens me to hear that she took a gift from you," Aragorn answered.
"They sent me back to help where I had hurt, to build up what I had broken down. I cannot restore the lives I took, but in this coming age I wish to help. I have great knowledge of craft and lore, and I promise you, on my life renewed, and on the faith Cerena has put on me, that I will help you and your people to succeed," Mîrlen said.
"I cannot say that I truly understand what is happening, and I remember well the history you have with my people, and the last time you tried to help those of Númenorian blood. Quite the unexpected swim you took," Aragorn stated. He almost felt guilty at the sight of Mîrlen's face going white.
"But I remember Cerena's words, her sorrow at your brokenness, and the way she was one of the only people in all of Arda who mourned your death. I asked her once how she could mourn you, who had caused so much trouble. Do you know what she said?" Aragorn asked. Mîrlen simply waited patiently. "She said she mourned the loss of potential. The things she had seen in your tower were amazing, and the things that you could have done if you had not been caught up in darkness were amazing. I also know that Gandalf must have known of you, being in the city right under his nose. So in trust of Gandalf, and in trust of Cerena, and in honor of your friend Arinrossë, who loved you enough to chase you to Arda Marred, even though it cost her everything, I will give you a chance to prove yourself," Elessar stated. He saw a physical movement of relief from the teenage body of what had once been the Lord of Mordor.
"I will not fail, Lord King. I will help your people, and all the people of Arda," he said, and bowed at the waist. There were several moments of silence, before Aragorn cleared his throat, seeming a little embarrassed.
"I have one last question for you, for now," he said. Mîrlen looked up, thinking he may be curious about some of his people's history. But the King of Gondor and Arnor looked rather flustered.
"Is it true that you created enchanted chamber pots?"
Elrond sighed as he shifted a few papers on his desk. Three of his reports had inky fingerprints on them, and there were smears and small fingerprints on the wood of his desk. His quill was mangled and broken, and the stopper of his ink bottle had teeth marks on it. He opened the drawer of his desk, and they could have heard his curse on the other side of the Homely House.
Decades of paperwork, ruined by several pieces of sandwich jammed into the drawer. He pulled out the sandwich, which appeared to have once been turkey and jam. Then he began to pull out the paperwork, groaning to himself at the amount of work it was going to be to fix this. The gods above, the jam had gotten everywhere. He pulled out a handful of parchment, and almost did not notice when a small leather pouch fell from between the pages. He set the ruined parchment aside and reached down, lifting up the little satchel that was the size of his palm. He could not remember what was in this little thing.
He opened the tie, tilting the satchel into his hand, but nothing came into his palm. There was nothing in the satchel. He frowned, trying to remember what had been in-
He did curse aloud, slamming his knee into his desk as he pushed back so quickly that he nearly toppled his chair. That had been a Ring of Power, which was now gone. Gone at the same time there was evidence of sticky little fingers in his possessions. He walked quickly towards the gardens, where Cerena spent her free time with the children.
Cerena was leaned against the base of a tree, feeding Elindaw. He was covered with a light blanket for privacy. Ava was in a light dress, playing in the little splash pond that had been made for her and her sister. It was only a few inches of water, but placed as it was in the shade it was a nice cool place to play in the summer.
"Where is Aranell?" Elrond asked. Cerena startled slightly, having been almost dozing as her son fed.
"She wanted to follow Mîrlen down to brush Nimtellen," Cerena said. "What's wrong?" she asked, immediately picking up on his agitation.
"Nothing is wrong," Elrond said, trying to reassure his wife. "But I believe our daughter may have gotten into something she should not have," he added.
"Do you need me?" Cerena asked.
"It is not life-threatening," Elrond soothed. Probably,he thought to himself. Cerena pinned him with a look, her yellow eyes seeming to pierce directly into his soul.
"I'll stay with Ava and Elin, then," she said, though she sounded slightly regretful.
Elrond rushed towards the field where the wolves were being kept and trained. Mîrlen had Aranell sitting on the saddle of his wolf, walking him leisurely around as Nelly cheered loudly. The wolf was obedient and steady, pausing a few times here and there as the boisterous toddler rocked on his back.
"Nelly!" Elrond called. Nelly looked up, hearing the sharp tone of her father's voice. That was his grumpy voice!
"What's wrong?" Mîrlen asked, pausing Nimtellen in his stride.
Elrond made it to the side of the wolf, reaching up and picking Nelly up, putting her on her own two feet. He grasped her hands, turning them over, before frisking the outfit she was wearing and coming up empty.
"Ada?" Nelly asked curiously.
"Where is the ring, Aranell?" he asked her. But Nelly's brows simply furrowed slightly.
"Ring?" she asked.
"What ring?" Mîrlen asked. Elrond looked up at him, weighing the options of telling him about it. Sauron had never touched the Elven rings, nor had he apparently touched the Orcish rings. And he knew Elrond carried a Ring of Power, as well as Galadriel, and he knew that Gandalf carried the last Elf Ring. But those rings were claimed, bound to their wielder and not really a temptation. Would he be tempted by one that was floating about freely?
"The High Orcs had elemental rings that matched the elven ones. Ice for Fire, Stone for Air, and Lightning for Water," he replied. "I was in possession of the Ice ring, but it has gone missing, and there was evidence of a certain menace left behind in my desk drawer," he finished, looking back down at Nelly. She was looking up at her father, her lips turned down into a frown. She didn't know what he was talking about.
"Nelly, what did you do with the ring?" Elrond asked again.
"I've been relatively alone with her all day and I haven't felt-," and Mîrlen paused. Nelly hadn't shown any advanced magical signatures….but Ava had. "You're asking the wrong daughter,"
"What?" Elrond asked, looking back to the creature who had once been the Lord of Mordor.
"I think Avalaer has had the ring for a little while, in fact. It would explain several things. But here, if the Ring has accepted her as its wielder, and they were created by orcs, high or otherwise, you would likely have to do battle with her and claim it by conquest to change its owner," Mîrlen said softly. Elrond felt his chest squeeze uncomfortably.
"Ada?" Aranell asked, and Elrond looked at his daughter. She looked unsure, a look not normally associated with the more boisterous of his twin daughters. He reached forward and took her face in his hands. She relaxed in his grasp, even smiling as he ran his thumbs over her cheeks.
"I'm sorry I have accused you, Aranell. Can you forgive me?" But since Nelly really didn't know the severity of what her father had done, she gave him a bright smile and moved forward, out of his grasp, to wrap her arms around his neck. Then she gave him a sloppy toddler kiss on his cheek. He returned her embrace for several moments, glad of the small warm body as it acted like a balm against a raw soul. "Would you like to go back and ride Nimtellen?" Elrond asked, looking back to where Mîrlen stood. Nelly turned back to her brother, and he gave her a warm smile and reached out his hands to her. She hooted happily and broke from her father's arms, not aware of the sudden agony he felt, before launching herself into Mîrlen's grasp. He put her back on the wolf's saddle, before turning back to Elrond.
"Good luck," he said genuinely. Elrond nodded, before standing and going back to the garden.
"What does this mean?" Cerena asked, pacing along their bedroom floor. Elrond sat on the edge of the bed, looking rather lost. He actually had no idea what this would mean for their daughter. He had not received any foresight on the matter before, and he was not receiving any foresight on the matter at this moment.
"I do not know," he simply replied.
"Will it hurt her?" Cerena asked, grasping onto the skirt of her dress just to have something to do with her hands. Elrond, once aware of the Ring of Ice being with his daughter, had been able to see the trinket on her finger, but not interact with it. Touching it had given him a sense of dread and had made Ava yank her hand out of his grasp, but other than a deep seated anxiety he felt nothing else from the Ring. Mîrlen surmised that the Ring, after recognizing her as its Master, had sensed its user's inexperience and had made itself dormant until she could properly wield it.
"I…I do not know," Elrond answered again.
"Will anyone else be able to see that she has it? What about the Ring of Fire? Gandalf has delayed his sailing by a few years, but eventually he will sail," Cerena worried.
"I cannot see anything, I do not know," Elrond answered dully.
"What do you know then, hmm?" Cerena snapped, whirling on him. But she came up short when she caught sight of him. He looked….defeated. His normally pristine posture was bowed with stress, his head tilted downward and his hair hanging like curtains around his face. His hands were in his lap, worrying at one of the buttons on his robe. Anxiety was eating at him. Cerena sighed softly and approached him. "Elrond…what's wrong?" she asked. He did not answer, simply shaking his head slightly. "I can tell something is wrong, you silly elf. What is it?" she tried again. But again he shook his head.
She sat on the bed next to him, her skirted legs touching his, and offered her hand to him, palm up. For several moments he did not move, but eventually his hand found hers.
"I cannot lose another daughter," he whispered. Cerena felt as though she had been dipped in cold water. Of course…he already felt as though Arwen was lost to him. If something happened to Avalaer…
"Ava is not lost to us," Cerena said, with much more boldness than she felt. There was silence between them. "Do…do you want to sail?" Cerena asked softly.
She did not expect him to let out a hysterical sob. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and pulling his hand away to put it on his head, as though protecting himself from a blow. Cerena knew there were no words she could say to him, so she simply sank to the floor, leaning against his knees while he sobbed.
After a few minutes he raised his head, wiping his eyes.
"I will sail when the children have reached their majority, and can make the decision to sail or stay on their own," he said.
"That's…that's quite a while," Cerena murmured softly.
"It is half an ennin. This is not so long to an elf," Elrond said stubbornly. Cerena rolled her eyes at him.
"Elves are immortal but you still feel the passing of time. And to pass so many years in what is clearly an upset state…are you sure?" Cerena asked.
"I will not take this choice from them. They were born here, in Arda. It is in Arda they should stay if they wish," Elrond said. Cerena sighed softly.
"Always do you put others above yourself. They would not be prisoners in Valinor…should they wish I am sure they can sail back," she said reasonably. She was not so sure what the original view of passing so freely between Arda and Amman had been, but it seemed like since her arrival there was much less of a stigma, even if it was still impossible to get there other than by the magical boats, or by a very direct means through the Lord of Waters, as Mîrlen had done.
"It's fine, darling. This has just been…a hard day is all. I will write to Durbûrz, and seek his council on this ring debacle. Perhaps I can see what Mîrlen thinks as well…seeing as he is indirectly responsible for the forging of the Elf Rings, and Celebrimbor himself is not here to consult with," he said. She looked up at him, into his grey eyes which still swam with tears. She had a bad feeling that he was not going to have much peace for the next five or six decades, but it was his choice as well, and she could only provide him with support. So she gave him a wan smile.
"Of course," she said. And that was that.
She sighed tiredly. The children were finally in the bed and the valley was finally starting to wind down for the day. There were usually no late night emergencies. Last time they had gotten any excitement after sundown was a small fire in the kitchen. But the kitchen elves were quick with the proper reaction, and there was only one pot and two kitchen towels to be replaced after that.
She rubbed her knees together restlessly. Elrond was busy as the Lord of Imladris. His duties were much more numeric than hers, even though she had her own fair share of burdens. Especially with three little children it was very difficult to find time to jump her husband's bones at the end of a long day. But she was determined to at least try tonight. The girls were in bed and she had Carinwen watching Elin for a few hours (the elleth had given her a knowing smile) and she was ready to nibble on her delectable husband.
She had already bathed, her hair mostly dry and the only thing around her a thin silk robe of sky blue. Elrond loved the color on her, and loved even more peeling the color off of her. She had called up servants earlier and had a bath brought. The water had been practically boiling when they brought it, but by now would simply be pleasantly hot. She also had a fresh container of water sitting by the fire to refresh the bath should he take longer than usual to complete his evening chores.
Luck was with her and she did not have to wait long before she heard him enter. Always he stopped at the door, removing his outer robe and boots almost symbolically before he turned into the main part of the room. He pulled up short at the sight. Cerena stood at the tub, looking mischievous as a kitten in a birdhouse, wrapped in his most favorite robe of hers, the blue one with delightful white ruffles that made her look like a decadently frosted sweet.
"Would you allow me to attend you, my Lord?" she asked. The tired look on his face faded, replaced by a genuine smile. He said nothing, simply holding out his arms for her. She sprang from her spot at the bathing tub, approaching him with an excited air. She began removing the buttons that fixed his under tunic in place, slipping it carefully from his shoulders. Each piece of his clothing was lovingly and carefully removed, gently brushing the newly revealed flesh with the tips of her claws. But Elrond was older and more patient than her -usually-, and did not allow her to bring him to a frothing desperation, at least not on this night. Make no mistake, his approval was obvious when he was fully revealed to her, but he simply did not make his enthusiasm as obvious as hers.
She pulled his hand gently and led him to the tub. There was a handful of herbs thrown into the water, making it spiced and relaxing. He stepped over the edge and lowered himself into the water. It was hot enough to be comforting after a long day, but not so intense as to be uncomfortable. Cerena played well the part of a bath maid, using a soft cloth to spread his favorite fragrant soap over his body. She washed his shoulders and arms, his hair and neck, before rinsing and washing his feet and legs.
He watched her through his lashes as she washed and massaged his legs. She knew he loved it dearly, and it was soothing that despite her ulterior motives that she took the time to help him relax, as he had done for her many times.
"You are attentive tonight," he commented idly. She flashed him a grin full of fangs that should have terrified him, yet it simply made the member that had began to relax with him jump back to attention. He saw her nostrils flare at the bob of his flesh, and saw her dark tongue wet her lips slightly. What exhilaration it was to fuck that mouth, filled with teeth that could do him such harm, yet she was always so careful not to. Not that those teeth were completely harmless….he had a few little scars on his shoulder from her getting a little too excited, but goodness the intoxicating completion from the both of them when it happened!
"You have something I want," she answered honestly, submerging his leg back into the water.
"Oh?" he inquired cheekily. She sniffed haughtily and dropped the cleaning cloth onto his chest with a plop, before walking to their vanity and retrieving his comb. He relaxed even more as she combed his hair. It was a sign of deep trust and a very intimate act to touch an elf's hair. He enjoyed her touching his hair as much as she enjoyed doing it. She was always so jealous of the texture, like strands of thick satin.
"Yes. I have been recovered from Elin's birth for a few months now, and yet I remain untouched by my husband," Cerena stated.
"We have both been very busy," Elrond replied. The comb stilled and he was aware of her face near his ear.
"Yes, the duties of the Lord and Lady. But what the rest of Imladris doesn't know is that the Lady quite enjoys when her Lord twists her like Dwarven steel and pounds her like a blank sword," she growled. The vibration of her voice on his ear made him shiver slightly.
"You sound a little frustrated," Elrond teased carefully. He rather liked her rabid. He liked the fight of it, wrestling her into the sheets and conquering her like a victorious captain over his enemy.
Her growl was deep and resounded in his ear. It made his elf-senses go haywire. Such a sound should have been a warning and a terror, but knowing it came from her made him hard as steel and nearly rabid himself. He stood from the bath, water sparkling and cascading over smooth skin, dripping from the tips of his hair and fingers.
"You will dry me," he said, his voice firm but not rough. He saw her shiver bodily and retrieve the length of soft, brushed fabric he used to dry his skin. She patted his hair and over his shoulders, drying his arms and then over his chest and back. She dropped to her knees as he stepped out onto the thick mat under the tub and she began drying his thighs and legs. She dried over his buttocks and started to run the fabric over his stiff erection, but he leaned forward, grabbing the towel and pulling it from her grasp. He tossed it aside unceremoniously and grasped her wrist, pulling her to her feet. She was looking up into his face, yellow eyes bright and twinkling in the candlelight of the room. Her hair was unbound, snarled and kinky and coiling like silky black serpents. He reached forward, tangling a hand in the hair at the base of her skull, grasping it firmly and tilting her head up. She gasped softly, plump lips parting and the white tips of her fangs peeking out.
He pressed their mouths together quite suddenly and she gasped again, struggling against him for a moment before his grip on her hair tightened and he gave her a short but sharp shake. He felt her lip curl up, and could feel the soft vibration of a growl in her throat. He broke their kiss with a grunt from him, before he used his grip on her hair to tilt her head to the side, revealing her shapely brown throat to him.
She had explained to him once the intimacy and trust of orcs showing or allowing access to their throats. He took great pride in being allowed access to her in this way.
He pressed a kiss to the junction of her neck and shoulder, before parting his lips and grazing his teeth over the flesh. She gave a full body shudder and he saw her fingers crook into claws. He pulled back from her neck for a moment.
"Hands behind your back. Those claws are dangerous," he stated. He saw her hands shiver slightly as she had to fight her own instincts to pull them behind her. She wanted to bury those claws in him as much as he wanted to bury himself in her. His other hand grasped both of her slender wrists, holding them firmly even as her fingers tried to flex. Then his attention was on her throat again. He nipped and licked at the flesh, until she finally began to make soft, desperate noises.
"Please," she gasped, trying to pull her hands from his grip.
"Please what?" he growled against her throat. He released his hold on her hair and reached between them, pulling the bow on her robe and allowing the belt to fall open. Then his hand was between her legs, testing the edges of her lips and finding them slick and drenched in anticipation.
"Please fuck me," Cerena growled, her stance widening to give him access to her almost subconsciously.
"Such language," he murmured softly, exploring the very edges of her opening, never giving her the satisfaction of a deeper contact no matter how she twisted her hips. She was practically dancing in his grasp as he teased her, every so often dragging his finger along the sopping seam of her apex. She mewled and squirmed, and he quite enjoyed watching her breasts bob softly as she shifted. They were heavy with milk and quite lovely to look at, but he would not tease them because she was breastfeeding, and her nipples were sore and tender.
She was getting desperate and frustrated, and began pulling harder at the grip he had on her hands. Her fingertips nearly ached as much as her privates and wanted desperately to bite into the flesh of his hips and drive him deep. Finally he withdrew his hand, pulling his fingers to his mouth to taste the slick residue on his fingertips. It was such a mild taste but incredibly sexual, and he had never thought of such a thing before being with Cerena.
"I am going to release your hands, but you are not going to dig those pretty little claws into me, or I will send you to bed wanting," he said firmly. Cerena gave a low hiss at him, but it petered off into a low growl and she nodded. He relinquished his hold on her hands and she stepped back, flexing her fingers in an attempt to keep from engaging him.
"On the bed," he ordered her. She practically leapt onto the bed like a predator pouncing its prey, before rolling to her back and pulling up her knees. She held out her hands.
"Come, lover, claim me," she purred. It was a request he could not deny. He stepped to the bed, crawling up onto the soft mattress with her and still managing to look elegant and dangerous as he crawled up and over her, settling between her knees and pinning her with his weight. She was purring, now, that soft vibration of her chest that seemed to work its way deep into his bones.
"Show me your throat," he growled. She gave a soft sigh of contentment and turned her head to the side. He resumed the teasing of her flesh, kissing at her throat and grazing his teeth over the junction of her neck and shoulder. Eventually she began to squirm beneath him. When she made a slightly impatient sound he closed his mouth more fully over her throat, biting at her with enough force to pinch her skin.
Her legs wrapped around his waist and those unchecked claws were suddenly on his buttocks, the tips piercing his flesh and making him jump in surprise. He reared up, reaching and grabbing her hands before pushing them up above her head to press her wrists together and pin them to the mattress with one hand. With the other hand he guided himself to her entrance.
"Yess!" she hissed as he slid into place. She had so missed this. She understood allowing her body to heal after the ordeal of birth, but dammit did she miss the intimacy of being filled thoroughly by him.
Twice he brought her to completion before he found his own. Afterwards, he laughed breathily as she rubbed herself against him like a cat.
"You're rather affectionate tonight," he pointed out, sputtering a bit as he got a mouth full of fluffy, fragrant hair. She found a comfortable spot in his side and reached out, running her thumb over the tip of his ear. A full body shudder went through him and he gave her a half-hearted glare. "You're also a menace," he added.
"Menace I may be, but I'm a satisfied one," she said, her voice so full of smug energy that he laughed outright.
"My apologies for leaving you unsatisfied for so long," he apologized.
"Forgiven. My body needed to heal," she purred. Then she gave a snicker.
"What?" he asked, feeling as if he had missed a joke.
"Elin makes six for you. One more and you're tied with old Fëanor," she laughed.
"A prayer to our father Eru himself that I don't drive our children to cause half as much trouble," Elrond replied. Cerena laughed.
"Hey, but two more and you beat him out," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him. He gave her a haughty look.
"Is that your nefarious plan? To repopulate Valinor with half-orcs?" he asked. She feigned an innocent look.
"They are the ones who invited an orc in their midst. Tamed I may be but they themselves gave me the instincts of my people, which is to fight, feed and fu-" he cut her off with a kiss, which she broke after a moment, laughing again. "Stop that!" she said, before settling into his side once more. They lay together for a few minutes before Cerena finally stirred.
"Going to get Elin?" Elrond asked. Cerena made a noise of assent. She gave her thighs a quick wash with the cooling bathwater, before redoing her clothes. She knew Elrond would be dressed and the servants would have the tub gone by the time she returned.
The walk to retrieve her youngest was not long, but Cerena found herself thinking of the future. She was watching Elrond like a hawk watched a mouse for signs of him being overwhelmed on this side of the Sea. She was not so sure he didn't know that she would pack all of their children up in a heartbeat if it meant saving him from himself.
He was not going to sacrifice himself again. Not for her, or their children, or anyone.
Gandalf sighed softly as Imladris finally came into view. The cover was closing on a long adventure, and as much as he loved Arda, he yearned to be at home. He missed the soft grass of Yavanna's gardens, and the sound of his sisters singing as they tended herbs. He missed the sound of Aulë's hammer as he worked on commissions in the forge. He missed the smell of the air, which was crisper and cleaner.
A soft grunt drew him from his reverie, and he turned back slightly to see Frodo curled up under his blanket, sleeping fitfully in the corner of the wagon. He would be allowed to sail due to his carrying of the burden of the Ring. Even though Cerena had saved him from the agony of a Morgul wound, his soul was still raw and injured from being exposed to that horrid thing for so long. Sam had not chosen to come yet, but he had a feeling that this would not be the last boat for Valinor. He had a feeling that there might be a closer relationship to Arda and Amman than there had been in many millenia, though how that may work he had no idea.
The entire world had been thrown for a loop by the arrival of one she-orc. He remembered her as she was before, the soft spoken girl with brown eyes and a kind smile. She was still that, even if she now had yellow eyes. Her kindness had literally changed the fabric of time. She had brought hope to the hopeless, peace to the warring, and love to the hated. She had forged allies where there should have been none, and made friends where there should have only been enemies. Although he was certain that there had been a little divine influence in her actions, it was all her own bravery and strength that had accomplished these goals. And although she had suffered greatly, faced great physical and emotional agony, she had also been rewarded far beyond anything he had ever imagined. Having her soul transfigured into an Everlasting one, and being allowed to follow her husband into Valinor were two things that even on their own would have been amazing as gifts, but together were a rich reward for her toil.
As he crested the hill he was surprised to see a figure astride a large wolf, before recognizing it as his brother. He was going to be handsome in this new shell, he almost always was. A smile stretched across the young face, transforming it into something much warmer. That genuine smile also wouldn't have existed without Cerena. Oh, she downplayed her part in it by saying that she had only reminded him of a hope to see Arinrossë again, but she didn't realize just how difficult a task that had been. Nearly everyone had counted Mairon as lost. Even he was expecting him to have been bound up in chains upon his defeat and thrown to his master to await the Dagor Dagorath. For her to have found her way under his thick facade of anger and hatred, and reminded him of love and forgiveness…that was a monumental task that deserved much praise. And from what he heard, Mairon was a grateful son and an eager student among the elves. And. He had a feeling that even if she did not find welcome among the elves of Valinor, she would practically have a celebrity status among the Maiar.
"Are we there?"
The sleepy voice made him turn again.
"We are passing into the city now. A friend has come to meet us," Gandalf said. Frodo wiped at his eyes and sat up, looking at the figure astride the large brown wolf. Mîrlen turned his head and looked at him, his smile faltering slightly as he recognized the little hobbit. For several moments there was silence as the two looked at each other, before Frodo gasped.
"Gandalf, it's him! The one from the mountain!" Frodo gasped. Gandalf was looking around to see if there were any elves close enough to hear this. They appeared to be far enough away that this conversation would be safe.
"What are you talking about?" Mîrlen asked, though Gandalf saw his shoulders stiffen.
"Those eyes….those eyes…I'd recognize them anywhere," Frodo whispered, cringing against the far corner of the wagon.
"Please…do not be afraid, Frodo. The creature you saw in the mouth of the mountain is no more. This one is reborn," Gandalf assured him. Frodo, who had great trust in Gandalf, took another look at the being. While it was true the golden eyes were the same, the expression in them was not. When he had arrived in the mouth of mount doom swathed in fire, the look in his eyes had been one of crazed desperation. He had taken the Ring from Gollum and put it on. Frodo remembered the feeling of that creature warring with itself. It had been terrifying. But then, he had won. He had healed the place that Gollum had injured, healed Cerena, and then succeeded where Frodo had failed by casting the Ring, and himself, into the fires of Mount Doom. Frodo looked at his hand, where the stump of his finger was.
"Why did you heal me?" Frodo asked. Mîrlen tilted his head slightly as he looked upon the Hobbit that had once borne his Ring.
"I could not do anything for the suffering you had faced in your spirit, but I could ease your physical agony somewhat. It brought me peace to do so, as well as healing Cerena, who had been injured on my command," he said. "But now Cerena is my mother, and Lord Elrond an earthly father to me, and I am primed to step out into the world soon to begin to help them," Mîrlen said. Frodo stared at him quietly.
"So it's alright?" he asked, more to Gandalf than to Mîrlen.
"It's alright, Frodo. I would not leave him here unattended if I feared for the land any longer," Gandalf assured the hobbit. And Frodo, whose trust in Gandalf was great indeed, simply nodded.
"Okay, then. Good luck," he said. Gandalf dismounted the wagon for a moment, and Mîrlen swung himself off of Nimtellen.
"We will not tarry long in Rivendell, and I feel there will not be much time for us to speak. So good luck, brother, and Father be with you," Gandalf said, reaching his hand forward. Mîrlen reached forward and grasped his brother's hand. The grasp lasted a few moments longer than he had expected, and Mîrlen's dark eyebrows raised up. Gandalf smiled at him, a genuine thing that wrinkled the sides of his eyes and showed his teeth. When their hands separated Mîrlen closed his fist and brought it to his chest, watching his brother carefully. But Gandalf merely nodded his head, before turning and swinging himself back up into the bench of the wagon. He set the horse to motion again, before whistling cheerfully as they rumbled away. Mîrlen saw Frodo's bright blue eyes watching him until they descended down into Imladris proper, and disappeared behind the hill.
He pulled his fist away from his chest and opened his palm, drawing in a breath at the sight of a simple gold band, twinkling with a cut ruby. Narya, the thing whispered.
Oh, but the Fourth Age was going to be an interesting one!
Okay. So Cerena popped out another one. If Elrond keeps at it he will outpace old Feanor for most kids. And I don't think Cerena will argue too hard. Hopefully their kids wouldn't cause quite as much havoc. Besides, can you imagine old Boat-Stealer himself watching from the Halls of Mandos as someone finally breaks his record? Especially one who was spared and raised by one of his own sons, like an adopted grandson. (Again, Elrond has a really complicated past and it's kinda funny)
Elrond is heartsick. He has faced a lot of trauma in his life, and I think many of those events individually would have made lesser elves either fade or sail. But he has persisted simply because he had to. And now, he can feel the end of it approaching and it's making him incredibly weak, and he will likely get weaker still.
The Ring of Ice has found its owner, and it's the bodily equivalent of a three year old. I did not want to give Cerena Akulnazg. I knew that she would be sailing with Elrond, who likely will not take his Ring with him. Originally the elven Rings, depleted of power and authority, sailed with their owners into the West. The LotR series was a tale about the fading of splendor through the passage of time, and how societies grew and faded through the Ages reflected that. The splendor of elves peaked hard and then fizzled out, with few remaining after the Fourth Age.
But my take is a renewal of hope, and the hope of coexistence. So why should the elves completely fade? Sure, perhaps they will not be quite as magnificent as they once were, but it is a dark thing indeed to completely remove the light of the eldar from Arda. Besides, I always thought it was supremely unfair for the elves to be forced to leave the only home most of them had ever known for some sort of unknown 'peace.' Now, elves who had faced tragedy or injury is another story. I feel like that is seeking therapy for their trauma. But elves like Legolas who were stricken with the Sea Longing, who would go crazy if they did not eventually answer the call of the sea, such a thing always ate at me. (Not to say that Legolas won't sail in this story, but just airing some grievances with certain details.)
Gandalf giving up Narya to Mîrlen: Who better? This creature knows the workings of Rings of Power. It was his tutelage that prompted Celebrimbor to craft them. He knows how to wield it. And to them who say it might be unnecessary temptation: perhaps. But Gandalf likely would not have made any decision like that if it was not suggested to him by The Ones in Charge. So take that how you will. Now, how all of this will affect Arda has yet to be seen, but remember the prophecy of the Orc Rings mentioned bringing them all together, so how can they be together if they have been yeeted across the ocean and into basically a pocket dimension? Who knows what Galadriel and Elrond will end up doing with their rings? :)
If there is anything else that bothers you, feel free to leave it in a review, or even send me a pm if you like. I am trying my bestest to get the next chapters done. We are really drawing close to the end and I'm excited and sad at the same time.
