I hate school. I love you all. Thank you for your reviews you all! Here's another chapter... In fact, to make my late updates up to you all, I'll even give you a chapter tomorrow. Deal? Oh, and YAY! MUSIC PIECE! Please tell me how you like it? It's one of my personal favorites.
Warning: ANGST. life seems to throw it at you quite a bit, doesn't it?
Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own,you don't sue. According to Glorfindel, I don't even own Eruanna! *mutters murderously* Although, there is one Maia that will come in later that I like to think I own...
Chapter 13
It had been a week. A whole week since she had had the dream, since they had arrived in Lothlòrien. She didn't mind the absence of the dreams, since she was still coming to terms with what was going on, but something else was bothering her.
Her nerves were becoming extremely frayed from all that was going on. Everyday when Glorfindel got back, he immediately sought her out first thing, normally bright sapphire eyes pitch blue and his face terrible to see. The 'wrath of Mandos' look, as Elladan and Elrohir had dubbed it. And everyone knew to immediately evacuate the room where Eruanna was as soon as Glorfindel found her.
He would sweep her into his arms, sitting down and burying his face into her hair, calming his harsh breathing. Eruanna would say nothing, just allowing him to do whatever he needed, smiling contentedly and giving him a kiss to his cheek. And he would relax, and smile at her lovingly.
No one questioned the ritual, least of all those who knew Glorfindel well enough; for they knew that without Eruanna by now the elf lord would be a disaster just waiting to happen. No, they were more than relieved that she was there to calm him down to a reasonable point.
The growing tensions and war had taken a toll on everyone in different ways. Glorfindel had become a machine of war, going out to the borders with every intention of killing some kind of filth as an outlet for the tension.
Eruanna had become the worry string of everyone. She was passed around from Glorfindel, to Celébrian, to Galadriel, sometimes to Celeborn, and even on the rare occasion Haldir would discreetly seek her out to relax somewhat. She was the only elfling in all three elven kingdoms- a joy to all those who saw her: a sign of hope for the future.
But it was taking a toll on her as well. Comforting Glorfindel was nothing. Being passed around from elf to elf wasn't too bad, all she had to do was be herself. But keeping a cheerful front was something else. She had her own problems. Every day, the ache in her arm increased slightly. It was so tiny that it was barely noticeable, but with every passing day that Sauron grew in power, it grew.
Plus there was the fact that she had to cope with what was going on as far as her training. She was on edge every night, hoping against hope for there to be no dream, and yet at the same time fiercely wishing it would come. It hadn't, as of yet.
Her nerves were already fraying from that, and then add to it the strain of fighting off the sea longing and the now-faint call of Mandos. And another thing: she was constantly fretting about the Fellowship- and Thranduil. She was worried that the temperamental Elvenking might do something rash once he had heard that Legolas was off on a 'fools quest,' as she knew he would see it.
On top of all of that, she worried about Ciaran- and the icing on the cake: she missed Elladan and Elrohir and Erestor so badly that pain would lance through her heart whenever she thought about them.
So put altogether, Eruanna had become rather strained lately, and it was showing. Her appetite diminished, her skin became pasty, and her eyes held a weariness that only grew with the days. Glorfindel was becoming worried for her, as was lady Celébrian. But whenever asked, Eruanna would merely sigh and shake her head, giving them a painfully grateful smile that would leave them in more doubt than when they had first asked.
But then came the day when Glorfindel finally cracked. It was during one of their sessions after he came back from border duty.
"Eruanna, seler, please, tell me what's wrong." Glorfindel begged, clutching her to himself. "You're going to fade at this rate and I- I can't take that!" His voice had wound up higher and higher and faster and faster until it cracked as he shuddered and let out a muffled sob.
Eruanna sighed and shook her head, hugging him as he clutched her, rocking and vainly trying to stem the wave of tears that rose to his eyes.
*Don't cry, Muindor. I promised you I wouldn't fade. I'm okay.* She said softly, grasping a lock of his hair as he grasped her to himself tightly. Then she sighed.
*I'm sorry Muindor. Didn't mean to make you cry.* Eruanna sounded mournfully sheepish. Glorfindel shook his head.
"No seler. I'm just so worried about you in all of this... And I see that you're not faring well..." He sighed, aggravated.
*I just... I worry about them.* Eruanna said, absently twisting his hair in her small fingers. He knew who she meant. *And Ada, I worry about him...* She murmured.
*And Ciaran... And I have to try to look cheerful for all of us, and it hurts more, Glorfy.* She added in a strained tone, unconsciously rubbing her arm.
He grasped her hand gently and pulled it away, pulling up her sleeve. The mark burned red, fiery and black at the edges. He sighed as she yanked it back down.
*I- I miss them, Glorfy.* She choked, her turn to cry. He blinked. *I- I want 'D-Dan a-and 'Ro, and 'R-Restor.* She sobbed, breaking down. Glorfindel's face grew concerned. *I know they're- they're a-away, but I w-want them.*
He held her gently, rocking and smoothing her hair comfortingly, pressing his lips against her temple. "Don't cry, dear sister." He murmured. "You will see them again." He reassured.
*I know.* She whimpered. *I know. But I want them...* She said forlornly. Glorfindel kissed her tear-stained cheek.
"Why? What about them makes you want them?" He asked gently, coaxing her to talk. She sniffled.
*Dan and 'Ro love me.* She said confidently. *They- they're fun. And I like sandwiches.* She added wistfully, making him smile gently. *And 'Restor is kind. I like to hug him, because he's soft.* Eruanna confided, looking up at him with her eyes as innocent as they could get.
He raised an eyebrow. "Soft?" A smile graced his lips. Her lips twitched as she attempted to put her thoughts into words.
*He's- he's gentle. His heart is soft. He- he is so wise and he was from Doriath too, but- even though he saw much, he's still... Soft.* She looked up at him helplessly. He nodded.
"I see, Eruanna. Yes, I understand. He is soft, no matter how frightening he may seem sometimes." Glorfindel said gravely, although his eyes sparkled at the last words. Eruanna gave him a raised eyebrow.
He nodded solemnly. "Oh yes, he can scare me sometimes too." He said. Eruanna stared. "By lecturing me on the properties of grammar." He said with a straight face.
Eruanna's mouth opened, and she smacked his arm even as she began to laugh genuinely, her face alight with unforced joy. Glorfindel joined her, the sound echoing through the tree-tops, Eruanna's laughter faintly laced in the tones of his voice. And whoever heard it felt their hearts lighten for a moment, a smile brought to their lips.
LOTRLOTRLOTR
Eruanna had her flute in her hands, the silver carefully polished and her hands carefully dried as she cradled it in her palms.
It was raining outside, said Glorfindel. It never rained in Lothlòrien. Lady Galadriel's powers made sure of that. But Eruanna liked the rain. She had liked it in Imladris too.
"I wish I could see the rain." Lady Celébrian murmured softly from her chair. "It's so soothing."
The flute was smooth. It was cool under her itching fingers, the silver sliding under her flesh like water. The etchings pressed copies of themselves into her soft fingers, pleading with her to play.
She liked rain too. It made her feel calm, the 'shh' sound of it and the pitter patter of drops like the feet of tiny pixies dancing with Lady Nessa in fields of green. Glorfindel had told her about the tiny helpers of the Valar who lived in the groves of Lòrien and danced about in tiny flashes of light at night.
She didn't even realize that she was playing until she suddenly registered that the creak of wood from the rocking chairs in the room had ceased. The tune was dreamy and light, like the sound of tiny chittering and musically mischievous laughter.
An acknowledgement of the joy that rain brings to young and old alike.
It slowly morphed into the sound of tiny plinking drops, bursts of staccato rain splashing against a windowpane. It came down in whirling patterns of sound, the notes scattering across the floors and melting into the cracks of wood to drop down to the ground below. The keys of the flute were flower petals, dropping tiny drops of dew to the ground, bending under the weight and popping back up.
A calming sonata dedicated to the rain.
And then the flute began to weep with emotion. The notes rose and fell, breaking off and changing here and there, its breath hitching and taking in gasps of air. The keys made slight clicking sounds as they were pressed. There were musical wails of mingled sorrow and yet joy. The glad cries of mothers and the embittered ones of bereft infants.
A tribute to the weeping of the heavens.
The tears on the floor slowly began to flow together as the ground tilted, running down to become a stream, one that gathered into a creek, and then into a river that roared loudly in the joy of its freedom. The drops danced their way across stones, rippled over each other, gurgled merrily as they caressed the reeds and grass that grew along their banks.
A rising song of how evening weeping turns to morning joy.
Until the river reached the sea. The flute swished off into breathy notes of mingling, fading into each other until they all became one. A slightly bitter tinge entered the tune, indicating the salt of tears and the sea. The song rose to a crescendo of power, growing louder and louder, higher and higher until it all crashed down, only to go over the whole process again.
The sea calmed from its stormy, temperamental roaring, to the soft lapping of waves against a sandy shore, or catspaws gently batting the side of an elven ship gliding across the glassy waters of music. A cloak of rippling, whispering water washed them gently, muting noises and making everything seem blurred and hazy, the only sense of time the here and now. A rumble of deep laughter, like stones grating against each other at the bottom of the ocean. And they left the sea as it flung parting droplets of sparkling notes into their faces as a final farewell and yet call.
A powerful piece to honor Lord Ulmo of the Waters, who cares for the elves of Arda and sends them hope through his fingers that branch across the map.
The flute was thoughtfully set on Eruanna's lap as she stared out the window into the deepening shadows of night. For a moment, Ciaran was there, smiling at her from underneath his grey cloak hood as he peered up at her from the shadows. She reached a hand out the window to wave, but he disappeared.
She stared wistfully at the empty spot, the flute rolling off of her lap with a slight clang. There were sudden gasps as the spell she had woven was broken with the noise. Glorfindel drew her into his lap, his fingers raking through her hair.
Lady Celébrian picked up her dropped embroidery hoop with shaking fingers, her dress and fingers spattered with tears that sparkled like diamonds. Lady Galadriel looked reminiscent. Lord Celeborn's eyes were vacant, seeing some other time and place. Eruanna stared at the tears that streaked lady Celébrian's face, and a wistful hunger grew in her eyes.
She could just taste the salt in her mouth, feel the warmth of the bitter liquid. How many times had she drank her own tears before? She remembered the time that Elladan cried when she had been brought back from Dol Guldur.
The salt. The bitterness. The warmth. They were familiar and yet foreign. The feeling was familiar, but the taste was foreign. They were different from how her tears tasted. Elladan's tears had been decidedly more salty than hers. Hers were more bitter.
She absently wondered how lady Celébrian's tears would taste. Most likely like melted frost off of a window pane. Slightly briny, but more biting and crisp than rainwater.
The wind chimes didn't make any sound. There was no noise but that of contented breathing that mingled in the air like a thick fog. No words were spoken, everyone drawn inside themselves in thought.
And Eruanna wished desperately that she could taste Elladan's tears again. Or at least see him again. Him and Elrohir. Elladan, her stout defender. Elrohir, her sweet and loving carer.
Glorfindel continued to comb her hair with his fingers. The creaking of the wooden chair ticked away the seconds as they sat. The silver bark of the mallorn glowed faintly. The lamps flickered as flames danced hypnotically in their confines.
The night wore on, and the sea longing was quelled, for a while.
LOTRLOTRLOTR
It has been two weeks. Glorfindel is still on patrol. No dreams so far, not one, and no memories. I'm getting a little scared, to be honest. I have so many questions that are not answered!
Why do I miss them so much? Why me with the sigil e-hered? Why do I have to be the one that was chosen? Why do I have to love the people I do in the middle of this war? Why do I feel sometimes as though Eru has forsaken us- or me?
I wish Mithrandir would be here, to explain things to me. I yearn for some understanding, some light to be shed on what is going on. I hate being in this shadow.
If only I could just forget everything until the war is over. But alas, that is wistful, and I will admit, foolish thinking. No, instead, I wish to be in Aman. I long to see the blessed shores and just to live in peace. Is that too much to ask for?
But I still have hope. In fact, it grows in me, because otherwise what would keep me from going completely insane? What do we hold on to in dark times? We hold on to hope. Hope for a future.
Even when I was down in the depths of Angband, I still had hope. Hope that one day I would see the sky again, to hear nature as they really are, not deviated and twisted. To hear real fire, to hear the wind, to feel everything, to taste cool, fresh water, to feel the fresh grass under my fingers. To hear the purity of their songs in praise to the Valar and Eru.
And even in time as memories of such things faded, I still clung to that hope. Hope for something better, even if I forgot what they were.
And this is why, I think, I came to love Estel. Not only because of who he is, a loving, caring, wise, exceptional, loyal Edain, but also because of all that he represents.
He represents hope for his people, the same hope that I have clung to for so many millennia. The very same hope we fight for in this world. I chose to use the light gifted to me by the Valar to write on Andúril because the light of the Valar is a sign of hope. And power comes with hope.
Such a fitting name for him. I knew from the moment I met him that he was a royal, meant for high places. I only hope that I will be able to see the day that he achieves his place. He is the Estel of his people, just as lord Eärendil is for mine.
The jeweled cover shut, the gems sparkling in the waning daylight as Eruanna put it away in her personal chest. She didn't know why she wrote in the book, for she never expected anyone but herself to ever read it; but for some reason she took comfort in writing out her frustrations, her thoughts, and her concerns of each day.
And perhaps because she wanted to always remember the dwarf that gave it to her and keep his memory alive for as long as she had it. And all the dwarves that she had encountered, including the two princes, Thorin Oakenshield, and everyone else in the company. She had been most pleased to see Glòin's son, Gimli, despite that she cringed whenever he and Legolas came into contact. Everyone did.
With a sigh, she stirred from her musings and went to the talan window, standing on tiptoes to look outside past the sill. She was sitting in the main talan of lord Celeborn and lady Galadriel as usual, since Glorfindel was away most of the day.
She missed him, but she knew that he had to be busy to keep them all safe, and did not begrudge the time he was away from her. She could not be that selfish in good conscience, although she readily admitted that she did want him at times. Speaking of Eru's natural, inborn, aggravating, nutty, absolutely infuriating advocate...
*You know, why don't you go visit the trees? You might be able to talk with them about something interesting since you're bored.* The voice piped up.
As always, Eruanna regarded the words carefully. Her conscience never gave her such advice unless it was meant to mean something deeper. Oh it bantered with her, annoyed the Mordor out of her, and on one occasion made her hurl a shoe in the startled presence of several high-ranking elves of Imladris, but still. She couldn't deny the wisdom of its advice.
If everyone's conscience was like hers, it was no wonder elves never gave advice so easily. It couldn't be immediately trusted at face value.
There was a snort. *Oh please. Since when have I had a face anyway? The pool doesn't count.*
Eruanna couldn't help but laugh heartily at the snide jest. *Good point. But it was a figure of speech.* She couldn't help but retort.
*You think I don't know that, you dimwit? Wherever would you be without me?* It sniffed.
*Would you like me to answer that? Because I'm pretty sure you know where, and I wouldn't mind too much being there, if not for Glorfindel.* Eruanna replied amusedly.
*Excuse me!? And get rid of yours truly? Literally? I'm hurt!* It wailed.
*Aha aha aha. If you couldn't catch the sarcasm in there, try harder next time.* Eruanna snarked in reply, sniffing.
*Humph. I'd like to know exactly where you're trying to go with this conversation. I see no use in it whatsoever.* Was the reply.
*Oh don't you talk! You're the one started it!* Eruanna shot back, moving towards the mallorn in the middle of the room and crawling into the cradle.
*You're the one made me defend our sanity!* Was the defensive cry.
*I really hate you, you know that?* Eruanna sighed.
*If you didn't, I'd be seriously worried, self.* It laughed. And Eruanna had to laugh in agreement.
She reached out and placed a hand on the bark of the tree, reaching out and gently brushing its consciousness with hers. The tree stirred mentally, arousing from its drowsy slumber.
*Forgive me, Mellon nîn, I didn't mean to wake you.* Eruanna offered apologetically, but the tree reached out and touched her mind in welcome.
*It is a pleasure to talk with one of the Noldo, child. Come, pray tell, what is it you wish of us?* The mallorn asked sluggishly, slowly growing more alert as the other trees also began to listen in. Eruanna waited a moment out of courtesy for the others until speaking.
*Well... I was wishing of news from Greenwood. Pray, tell, can you give me any news?* She asked hopefully. She suddenly frowned. Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? Well, her conscience certainly had helped her out this time. A wave of smugness made her nearly roll her eyes. Oh my Valar, she hoped she wasn't as outwardly arrogant as that.
*Hush up.* Was the sour reply, and she stuck out her tongue in retaliation. The grumblings faded away as the tree finally answered.
*Many orcs have been waylaid by our more shadowed kin in Mirkwood, and the fair ones in their city are safe.* Was the slow reply.
*And what of the Elvenking? Are there any tidings of him?* Eruanna asked almost fearfully, wondering if she really wanted to know.
Another, eternal moment of silence passed before the Mellyrn answered. *He seemed to be angry, which makes our shadowed kin exited and worries the others nearby his glade.* Was the answer. *He rants and raves about some sort of letter from Imladris and young Greenleaf.*
Eruanna cringed and sighed. She ought to send him a letter. Or something of the sort. Something. Anything. The poor elves in Greenwood were probably creeping about like mice around their irascible King. Eruanna had to stifle an improper smile at the thought.
*Thank you, Mellyn nîn. I have been worried lately, and you have brought me some semblance of comfort.* She thanked them gratefully, and in pleased reply, the tree began to allow some golden flowers to fall on her through the windows as she giggled.
She gathered them up and tucked them in her hair, wishing she could somehow keep one of them forever frozen in such a perfect state of blooming beauty. The trees hummed gently, a creaking song that reminded her painfully of ships rocking and sails snapping in the crisp sea breeze.
A pained smiled crept onto her lips as she went to write a letter to the Elvenking whom she loved so well.