Once again, my apologies for being late. I went on a road trip yesterday and this morning the internet was out for a while. But I'm back! Thank you for all of your reviews; they really do make my day. Please, enjoy, and review!
For all of those who read Sauron is the Cutest a thing Ever! I will not be putting up the sequel for a while because I'm trying to concentrate on a few other things at this time. But don't worry, the sequel will come!
Chapter 12
Eruanna came back to to see the man's face above her, looking a little apologetic. "Forgive me. I should have expected that." He helped her up slowly, and her head cleared.
She suddenly blushed in embarrassment. *I'm sorry, I usually don't-* she started to apologize, but he only raised a hand and she paused.
"Nay, it is I who should apologize. I should have warned you. This is another plane of existence, and being here has that effect on all who come. I was surprised you had held out for that long, but it seems as though the shock of hearing my name perhaps sent you over the edge." He gave her a kindly smile and patted her hand gently.
"Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Back to the sigil e-hered. Yes, it is true that I asked for lord Finrod to make it. And put some- extra- qualities in it as well." He said in a dry tone of voice that made Eruanna giggle at its drollness.
"And that was so that I can be here now. I will not attempt to explain all its workings, although I am quite sure that if you asked lord Aulë he would be more than happy to tell you." He added with a snort, making Eruanna smile in understanding. Glorfindel had told her- much, to say the least- of the Valar. Especially a certain one.
"But I digress. I was the one who first created the guild of the Sereg'wethrin, although I originally created it for use against the enemy." He scowled. "I regret what it has become now. However, I do approve greatly of Ciaran." He nodded, and Eruanna smiled in agreement.
"The knife. Ciaran was correct, it is used as a key. That was also created during my time. Now, as for the knife itself as an object, it has never actually been used as a blood knife for ceremonies-" he gave her an ironic look to which she stifled a smile. She could tell why Finrod had taken a liking to the mortal. "But I did make it with a significance in design. For one thing, ivory is rare and coveted, as I am sure you know." She nodded.
"Another thing, the jewels each have a meaning. Ruby represents power and great strength. Onyx represents deep mystery and safety in the shadows. Obsidian represents obscurity and stands for mind shielding. The blade is a blade. So you see the morals and skills of the guild represented in the blade." He pointed out, and she nodded in understanding.
"Now, as for the properties of the knife. As I said, it allows me to be here. As it gets passed down to each new person who is deemed worthy, they are given a choice by me. And so far, none of them have accepted. You have this same choice before you." His eyes pierced her to her very core, locking with her eyes. She stared back unflinchingly, curiously wondering what she would see in those deep blue-grey depths. She saw wisdom. Age. Knowledge. And many, many shields.
Then he smiled. "I can see why Ciaran has chosen you. Now tell me, what have you learned?" He asked, folding his hands.
So she told him all. From the very beginning of her training to the very end, embellishing nothing and leaving out nothing. When she had finished, he sat in silence for a moment, contemplating.
"Hmm. Very good." He said absently. "You are certainly an anomaly. And now I do believe..." He shook himself and turned back to her.
"Yes, yes, well, now you have a choice. You have a choice to accept the power that this sigil e-hered can bestow upon you, or you can choose to deny it." He said.
"If you accept, know that you can never go back. The power I speak of is indeed great. You shall be endowed with the experience of all those who have carried this knife. You shall have their knowledge, their skills, their experience, their competence. But you must also see that with this power comes responsibility." He pointed out, studying her under hooded eyelashes.
Eruanna had frozen. All that-? Such knowledge-! It was dangerous, she admitted freely. She weighed the pros and cons in her mind, biting her lip.
Should she accept she would truly become the greatest of the guild that would ever be. She could have such power and strength, with all of that experience. And yet, it was so dangerous.
For if she accepted, with that would come great responsibility. She would have to always be on guard, never live a normal life. She could never live without thinking as one of her guild is in the habit of doing, accessing all dangers and escapes possible.
She would have to control herself and keep herself on a tight leash. She would have to remember to keep the darker aspects of her in check, the ones that would most assuredly appear in response to her membership of the guild. There were so many benefits, and yet so many things to consider...
A fierce need suddenly arose in her, so strong it shocked even herself. She wanted that knowledge. Or rather, she didn't really want it, but she needed it. She should accept, something in her urged. This was her fate. She was meant to accept. It was meant to come to her, nothing was coincidence.
Slowly the burning need faded away and she blinked, coming back to. Eruanna wondered if that meant that she was being inspired by a certain someone to accept. The very possibility made her shiver in awe. If He willed it, then who was she to deny?
She looked up at the man, who was patiently awaiting her answer. There was a moment of tense silence.
*I accept.* But her voice was quiet, fraught with pain and weary resignation. She knew that her life would never quite be what she wanted. Glorfindel would forever be a warrior and a Reborn. She would forever be a member of the Sereg'wethrin, and forever carry the burdens of one.
And at the same time, she felt a frisson of excitement course through her- for she knew that what she was about to undertake was something that she knew she would take joy in. Something that could give her a purpose. Something that she could have adventures with.
Beör, after a moment of studying her, smiled. "Good." He nodded. "Yes, very good. So be it. You shall accept." He bowed briefly to her, and she returned it hastily.
"Keep the sigil e-hered with you at all times. In due time you shall find what it unlocks, and that shall be your next step." He smiled knowingly, and then looked up.
"Our time is up." He raised a hand as she opened her mouth. "No, questions are not to be answered now." Then he smiled. "But hold on to them, I might answer them later." He winked. "We shall meet again- Nàmiel." He gave her a secretive, smug smile as winds began to whirl, spinning and congealing everything into masses of grey.
And it didn't even hit her until just before it all went black, that she had never once gotten a single wisp of his aura.
LOTRLOTRLOTR
Eruanna thought carefully, all that day, about the evening encounter with Beör. Or was it even him? As far as she knew he could just be a spirit. She hadn't caught one wisp of his aura, which was virtually impossible. Even the tightest furling will give off one tiny wisp to show that there was life there.
And if it was possible, she was even more confused than she had been before she received the knife. She understood that there was choice to accept or deny much useful and dangerous knowledge, but other than that it was all muddled.
Light had been shed, but it had cast what she didn't know in an even deeper shadow.
So all that day she had wandered about almost in a sort of daze, answering questions when needed but otherwise drawing up a mental list of questions, mulling them over and discarding some of them.
She wondered if she would see Beör again that night or not. But just in case, she wrote down her questions in her journal, so that she wouldn't forget.
I wonder if it was a dream after all. It was rather vivid for a mere dream. But what can I say? This world holds so many mysteries that I cannot even begin to imagine. The Valar and Eru are in control, that I know. I'm afraid of what I will learn with this knowledge, afraid of what I could become, afraid of all of it.
Will I see him again tonight? Will I ever understand what I'm supposed to do or be? Will I ever get answers to any of my questions? I wish this war would end. I long to go to the sea, to sail to Aman, and to be brutally honest with myself, go to Mandos.
Glorfindel makes it sound so wonderful, to be able to heal so fully. But it is for his sake I am holding on... What are we holding on to, really? Hope? Grasping at straws?
Yes; I believe I hold on to hope- and love. Love for my dear family, concern for their health. Hope for a better life, for a legacy of fell and mighty deeds to leave behind for those who come after. But most importantly, for a land of peace for a new generation.
I will keep holding on. I will be brave. I will try my best, no matter how hard the sea calls for me and no matter how strongly I hear the call of Mandos at times. For my family. For Glorfindel. All for Muindor.
And Eruanna lay her head down and sighed wearily. Ai Valar, but it could be so hard.
LOTRLOTRLOTR
Glorfindel wondered if he should be worried about the state of his sister. Ever since she had woken up that morning after they had arrived in Lothlòrien, Eruanna had been withdrawn and thoughtful.
Not rude, but rather she wouldn't speak unless spoken to and even then as though she had much on her mind. She smiled, she spoke, she ate, she was responsive, and yet she was so very far away.
It was true that she had had fits of silence and melancholy before, but never with symptoms like these. But he said nothing, respecting his sister's privacy and knowing that if she needed to she would come to him.
As much as he hated to admit it, she was more than capable of being her age, despite her childish frame. Who could ever tell what sort of thoughts went through her mind? She was a child, always would be, but also she was mature when needed. He snorted. She had put it aptly when she said that that particular trait seemed to be 'hereditary.'
Something he didn't regret, as he admitted to himself slyly whenever he thought of the Valar in Aman. And every time he saw an eagle he would make sure to wave. In fact, Eruanna had taken to smiling involuntarily whenever he did so, asking him what he would say if the eagle could take messages.
And he would laugh and shout into the air for anyone to hear: "I promise that I have been good, lord Manwë, and tell lord Nàmo that I have taken him at his word!" And of course, those who knew him and his story would laugh themselves silly as Eruanna giggled.
A small smile curled his lips as it always did when she thought of his little sister. Every memory she had, she would make sure to share with him, and they would either cry or laugh about it together, often both at the same time. And sometimes he would show her a memory of his own.
As he walked through the forest city to join the soldiers at the borders, he wondered how Eruanna was faring under the care of lady Celébrian and Galadriel.
Although, probably, more like under the care of lady Celébrian and under the scrutiny and concealed interrogation of lady Galadriel. She had never gotten over the fact that she could not read the elfling's mind.
Now that had been a sight, he recalled with a grin to himself. He had been grinning like a loon when it had taken place, as those who were there were submitted to the interesting sight of an elfling making the lady Galadriel look appalled and chagrined.
They had been sitting in the gathering room. He was there, as was Celeborn, Galadriel, Celébrian, and Eruanna. They were all sitting in their own places.
Eruanna had been sitting on the floor, silently sketching onto a slate and discreetly listening to conversation around her. They had turned to the topic of her, to her obvious amusement as they forgot that she was there.
They had even gotten so far as into her past, to which Eruanna had raised an eyebrow, when her head suddenly jerked up and her eyes had held something that was obviously in fierce check.
Glorfindel's breath had hitched in his throat. And as time crept on, the look had finally come to full light. That look he knew well. It was what the elves of Aman called the 'wrath of Valar look.' He and Finrod could pull it off rather well, he knew. And obviously so could his sister, to his mingled alarm and pleasure.
Galadriel had suddenly started in her chair and then turned pale, as every head went to her. Her gaze riveted to the elfling who was on her feet, eyes blazing, although her face was altogether blank. Celébrian had turned pale and gasped. Celeborn had raised an eyebrow, although he was also obviously startled.
And the elfling's words were clearly said in all of their minds for all to hear. *It is better if you keep meddling intents to yourself where it concerns me, my lady. There are things that I have seen that I do not wish upon any, and hence why I keep them in my mind where no one can see them. Do not tempt me by trying to find out what should never be known to any bar myself. My mind labyrinths are made from my memories.* Her eyes had glittered, and then for a moment, a smile had crossed her lips, as icy as the Helcaraxë.
In fact, Glorfindel had felt a brief pang of nostalgia for a moment. That smile was unnervingly similar to a certain Judge of the Dead's. To put it simply, very, very unnerving. Terrifying, in fact. Celébrian had nearly fallen out of her chair with a tiny cry at the smile.
But when they had finished tending to her, they saw that the elfling was sitting on the floor, contentedly smiling and drawing on her slate, no sign of anything else ever happening. And Glorfindel had laughed.
And when everyone had demanded what he meant by that, his answer had been simple. "I do believe that I have only ever seen one other who can smile like that, and only two others who can come close, being Findárato and I." He smirked, and left it at that.
Although, it had been true, Galadriel and the rest had been rather careful in their speech and actions where Eruanna was concerned after that...
And if any elf wondered why lord Glorfindel was smiling and humming to himself as he arrived to report for border patrol, they were wise enough not to ask.
LOTRLOTRLOTR
"Hmmph. Nàmiel indeed. Who does he think he is?" Nàmo sniffed, but everyone could see the pleased glint in his eye. No one was foolish enough to point it out, thankfully.
"Wait wait, what? Did I miss something?" Aulë demanded.
Manwë rolled his eyes. "Only that Beör appeared to her in a dream, offered her the choice, and then dubbed her Nàmiel." Was his wry answer.
Aulë blinked. "Oh."
"I do believe that's the shortest statement he's ever made when it comes to anything smith-related." Tulkas whispered not-so-discreetly to Nessa, who slapped his arm as he smirked.
"What? It's true. Usually he'll go on and on about the properties of ivory and all it's uses and blah blah blah until my eyes glaze over." Tulkas remarked petulantly. The Valar snorted in amusement as Aulë glared half-heartedly.
"I do not." He protested.
"I do understand it and my eyes glaze over." Manwë muttered, and was cooly smacked by Varda.
Aulë sighed long-sufferingly. "Back to main point... What does he mean?"
"What it means is that something is going to happen, and I'm not too sure what it is." Nàmo replied, his fair visage dark.
"Hmm. I believe it is called something like a genetic memory." Irmo suggested off-handedly, trailing off significantly.
"You mean the knife is for-?" Manwë trailed off as the Valar suddenly grasped the full import of that statement. Irmo nodded.
"Which makes sense." Estë suddenly spoke up. "Look at this." She pointed out.
She drew in the air, mapping out the shape of a body. She then pointed to a section on the body of the blood stream. The image zoomed in, focusing on the blood stream. Estë dragged her finger downwards, until they reached the bone marrow.
"Say this is her blood. And the knife has 'special properties,' to borrow a phrase from Beör." She said dryly. "With what the knife can do, according to Aulë... Now look." She said, and a new substance began to seep into the red blood that already occupied the marrow. It was new blood, a slightly darker shade to distinguish between new and old.
The new, foreign blood began to make its way through the marrow, mingling until it became a part of the old blood. Then it panned out until they could see the pathway of the blood, following its trail to the brain.
"Look. After passing through the marrow, the blood has integrated and mixed, and then traveled to the brain." Estë said, pointing to the brain. The image focused on the section of the brain where memories were stored.
"The DNA in the blood has all gathered here." She said, and indeed it was so.
The Valar sat back, pondering the meaning of the strange occurrence.
"That means that the genetical traits and memories contained in whatever blood that that knife has touched can be passed on." Irmo muttered thoughtfully, looking at the floating diagram.
"That is indeed ingenious." Aulë spoke up with professional interest. "All Finrod needed to do was mingle into the making of the knife a congealing spell, along with a few other minor spells." He murmured. "And then it would work."
"Beör always had a shrewd mind." Nàmo muttered.
"Well, there is naught we can do now. It is the will of Atar and he will take care that all is as it should be. It will happen." Manwë said decisively, and the image disappeared.
"I still don't see exactly what this means for Aman, but I trust Atar. He has a plan for all things." Irmo conceded with a sigh.
The rest of the Valar sat in silence for a moment, until Manwë gave them all a droll smile. "Have I told you the message Glorfindel sent to us through Gwaihir, by the way?"