Chapter Eighteen: In the High Chamber
Elladan sealed the binding on an arrow and added it to the pile. He took another shaft and held it up lengthwise to his eye, rotating it slowly with his breath held in. He marked a small bulge and selected a curious tool from the chest open before him, which his brother had just now put down.
"We should have another of these," he said to Elrohir.
"Indeed," answered his brother. "We shall make one with Master Aülean this winter, for I believe he has gathered the required bits of mithril."
"More and more I love to watch him working it," said Elladan. "Such a strange and beautiful stuff, and so difficult to drive from ice to water to ice again." He turned the tool and found the alignment marks. It seemed to be a bit of metal pipe, but upon closer scrutiny there could be seen tiny blades of the mythical dwarf-silver around the inside of the tool, amazingly sharp, arranged in a slightly spiraling order. Into the hollow of the tube went the slim rod that would be an arrow, and the skillful stroking of the tool over the wood sliced away the bulge that Elladan had noticed. Minutes later, a perfect shaft emerged.
"When we take the little eagle up into the forest, we must gather a sackful of great kaia thorns," Elrohir mused, "and he can learn to whittle them into sharp arrowheads of the second rank."
"Would you set him to tasks of weaponry, so soon?" Elladan wrinkled his brow. "He is still so very small, barely discovering wonder. There will be time enough for blades and shafts…"
"Perhaps," said Elrohir, "but have you not seen him teasing the Lord Arathorn to let him handle his great knife? Like a fox at a rabbit-hole, relentless, that boy." He smiled, nevertheless, for the child's mettle pleased him to no end.
"And where is the knife now? It was surely brought away from the burial," queried Elladan, "for it is to be an heirloom for the Lord Aragorn, who will be."
"I believe Master Glorfindel has it in his keeping. Perhaps Ada will bid him hold it for this time, while memory would be jolted by the sight of it, and distress for the father." Elrohir fell silent. However wisely the boy may be guided, the loss would never heal, he knew. He looked up and caught his brother's eye, watching him.
"I, too, think of her each morning, each evening. I see her wondrous eyes in the river, her voice drifts on the garden breeze. Always, my brother. As do you." Elladan turned back to the task at hand, binding the sharp pointed head to the feathered shaft with a strong silken thread, finally sealing it with a drop of resin that would harden and hold for many months.
"Ada believes that she will be well again, in Blessed Aman. He will cross over sea and be with her for the ages to come, and perhaps his pain will also be forgotten: the long years have cooled his anger and he is content to bide his time, even relieved that she is removed from danger. From the hard choices to come," Elrohir trailed off, and took up again the metal arrowhead he was sharpening.
"And ourselves?" asked Elladan. "Will we take the ship to Valinor and forsake Middle Earth forever, or watch Ada's sail slip away and send only greetings to our elena?"
"Perhaps the choice will be lifted from us, and the war against Sauron will gain us swift passage to the halls of Mandos," Elrohir grinned and punched his brother's arm. "For now," his eyes were suddenly serious, "our thoughts and intent must flow to one cause only: bring the boy to the Chieftainship, and then ride with him to recover one and both kingdoms."
"Arathorn was nurturing this plan himself," mused Elladan. "Before many summers faded, he would have taken the road to Gondor and laid his claim. Or at least, sought an alliance."
"The Enemy has gained respite and precious hours, while little Aragorn grows his feathers," Elrohir muttered. "The accursed one may not know clearly why, but he will perceive a silence in his favor. And he will move."
"The beast is never idle, my brother. But you say true: he has won a round without knowing." Elladan brightened. "And that may be our gain. He will have lost the thread, even think that the line is ended. When the Dúnadan confronts him, it will be again the stature of Elendil; I foresee it."
"Ada comes." Elrohir rose and stood in the doorway, gazing down the long stairway at his father climbing jauntily. "His step is lively on this fine morning."
Elladan leaned over the window sill and whistled a piercing little tune in greeting. A visit from Elrond to their high chamber was a precious event, coming perhaps only once in a full season. He reached the narrow terrace and took in the twins at a glance before turning to behold the most magnificent of all views of Rivendell.
"Yes," he said. "I will come up here even once in each round of Isil. So much beauty, such peace for the mind and the heart."
"Peace until you cross our threshold," teased his son from the window. "Once inside, you will gaze upon no less than a thousand arrows… spears and blades and bows on every side. Shields, coats of mail, helms and gauntlets. Boots, shin-guards, armor for our brave steeds…"
"Enough, enough," laughed Elrond. "But I believed you kept the metal weapons in store at the smithies, with Aülean. What labor to carry all such to this great height, only to take it down again when its time comes."
"Elladan is joking, Ada," Elrohir laid an arm around his father's shoulders and ushered him in through the door. "Here we have only the thousand arrows and the lot of longbows. The room is small enough."
"A love-nest, once upon a time. No need for great halls, then."
"Ada!" the twins exclaimed in unison.
Elrond laughed at the shocked look on his sons' faces. "I am teasing, mellon… perhaps!" He chuckled and took a seat across from the tool chest. He could not refrain from inspecting this artifact and that, exchanging glances of understanding with the two tall peredhil warriors, his progeny. "Who will be Beleg this year? How goes the tally?" His attention now seemed taken by a beautiful bow of dark red wood, heavily veined.
"We shall say on the winter long-night, when the last shot is reckoned," Elladan said happily. "As we stand, my score is clearly ahead."
"The winter hunting will even us out, braggart," his twin frowned horribly. "I miss not a shot against the bright snow, when others must squint their eye and waver."
"So true!" cried Elrond. "I do believe that the count will not be decided until the very last afternoon. Or evening, with you archers shooting in the dying light of day… if not by Tintallë's candle-sparks…"
"Beleg Cuthalion is with us always, Ada," said Elladan softly. "Can it be that he went not to Mandos, but lay in the earth until the wave broke mighty Sirion from mouth to wellsprings? And drifting in love for these lands, never wishing another, strayed over wide plains and high mountains in search of the children of Thingol?"
"Eru alone knows all, my son," Elrond answered slowly. "Great hearts are not bound to roads travelled by the many."
"Also, his passing was in grief and horror, a ghastly mistake entwined in the curse of Morgoth on Hurin and his house," reflected Elrohir, "and as such it may be that his spirit was inclined to seek redress of sorts, perhaps."
"Your thoughts give him substance, my sons. His name embodies the drive of you in your search for greater and greater deeds. This is very powerful, and would best be kept between you alone."
The twins nodded, and each of the three drifted into their own reveries. After a while, Elrond spoke again. "There is, also, in the fate of Beleg, a warning for those of the Eldar that give their love and friendship to mortals, who with their brief life-spans burn so fiercely… Has it not many times passed that one of the First-born lays down the life of the body for love of a Mortal? Finrod Felagund, even, and above all Luthien the Beloved. And Beleg, at the sad hand of Turin who was like unto his brother."
"And yet at this very time we have among us a little mortal eaglet, who has taken our hearts without a struggle. Yours, Ada, foremost," Elladan smiled and patted his father's knee.
"Ours have been in his small grasp for a time, now," added Elrohir. "Ever since the Lord Arathorn first galloped up to a forest camp with this tot bound to his body." He sighed. "That man loved his son so ardently… as if he knew, somewhere, that he had little time with him."
"And now the boy is with us, and we must shorten our days as we shorten our strides to let him keep up." The elf-lord rose and went to the window.
"How so, Ada, shorten our days?" Elladan inquired.
"The Eldar may ponder an issue during the entire growth of a great oak, and yet leave the final word for another time," Elrond gazed intently for a moment at a spot far below, then continued. "Estel has not the endless flow of seasons. He must learn quickly, and arrange his growing knowledge daily. So much is pending on his arrival at manhood, so many in such need of him. His years for growing and learning are all too brief: a score, at most. Once his name and lineage are revealed to him, he will not have a life of his own… a traveler, a warrior, a green-and-brown shadow in the forest, a gray wisp on a rocky hillside… a horseman, a swordsman…"
"A poet, maker of music; a healer. A leader of men. A king, such as your own brother chose to be." Elrohir sighed. "I would we had seen him, walked with him. Elros."
"Yes, a king he shall be," Elrond reflected. "But a secret king of a secret people."
"It may be, we were saying just now," Elladan looked from one to the other, "that this Chieftain may rise to make his claim in the face of the Enemy. Unite the scattered line of Númenor. We had perceived such intent in the Lord Arathorn."
"There are signs, verily," said Elrond, spreading his arms wide, "from the night he came to life and even before, such did Lynael tell in those days. But nothing I found to warn us of this passing."
"As you say, some things only Eru knows," said Elladan.
"So we will take him up to the forest, Ada, on the morrow. Would you come with us, for one night?" Elrohir seemed to entrap his father, applying his subtle skill.
"I am no fish to come to your songs and lures, my son," laughed the elf-lord, "but I can hardly wish for greater joy than walking in the forest with you. And with Estel, now. I will come, and thank you for counting me into your plan."
"It is done, then!" cried Elladan. "We will make a day of it, and dazzle the boy."
"Where is he now, do we know?" asked Elrohir.
"He is up the mountain with the growers," said Elrond. "He has been delving in the wonders of eating, baking, kneading, milling, harvesting, growing… unraveling the entire story. Vaneta is so taken with him."
"You are right about the shortness of his days, Ada. For this beloved boy, innocence will pass in the flutter of an eyelid," Elrohir sighed. "A score of years … I have spent longer in choosing the cut and color of a tunic!"
"And yet, that is what we have," said Elladan with a sad smile. "We must be a little mortal in our ways, now, so he learns the seasons and pulses of Men."
The three were silent for a while, then Elrond spoke again. "I would know your thoughts on the Lady Gilraen, my sons. How did you find her, yestereve?"
"Fragile, and yet strong," Elladan volunteered. "It seems promising that she stayed the hours with us in the Hall of Fire, and I believe she was comforted."
"I marked what she said, of her dreams of Nienna," Elrohir straightened up suddenly. "That the Lady of Tears has come to her in the hours of sleep, whispering enlightment on the hidden nature of sorrow."
"These would be precious words, indeed," said Elrond. "All the more needful that she take up her inks and stylus, and build into the knowledge gathered here." He rose to go, stopping first to take in once again the wonderful view. "We must have story and song this evening, at the Fire. I believe Milia has something new for us, inspired by this mother and son placed in our charge. Bring you a fine tale, fit for them both." He took the downward path spryly, sure-footed as a mountain ram, whistling up a scrap of melody.
"Ada is lighter today than I have seen in many moons," Elladan settled back into his deep chair and picked up another wooden rod. "The child has broken into his heart."
"And we must bring a tale to the Fire, he says," his brother said, wrinkling his brow in deliberation. "Could it be the Two Trees of Valinor? I believe Estel will see them easily, and they will stay with him forever."
"They shall, and their mingled radiance will give him sight into any darkness the Enemy may send," Elladan said firmly. "You have chosen well, my brother, as is your wont. Let us prepare, then, and assign ourselves parts, speeches and songs. We will make a show of it, Elrohir, for Estel to keep with him always."