Chapter 11

"What are you reading?" Gault asked loudly peering over Hylin's shoulder.

Startled, she pulled back as his sudden appearance. It was late morning when the junior warden arrived at Hylin's flet. Roswyth was busy about some tasks in the next room, and all the windows of the flet had been thrown open to allow the fresh air to fumigate away the staleness of winter from every corner of the dwelling. Stealth had not been his goal, but when he had reached the top step, Gault had seen her pouring over the large volume with intense interest. She was clearly reading in elvish, the words slipping carefully from her lips until she stumbled upon a word she was unsure of.

"Sweet heavens you've scared the years out of me," Hylin burst out protectively holding the book close to her, "What were you thinking?"

Roswyth appeared at the chamber door only long enough to see Gault standing there with a sheepish look on his face and seeing nothing was amiss, she shook her head and returned to her folding as Gault held out his hands in apology.

"Pardon me, my lady," he said, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Perhaps next time announce your arrival," she said primly.

"Aye Lady," he bowed his head slightly and then inquire again, "What are you reading?

Hylin, possibly aware of the ridiculousness of her questioning the standards of an elf centuries her senor, softened her words as she replied, "The chronicles involving Lord Elrond of Imladris."

"Ah yes, the great master of the Last Homely home." He nodded.

"The last what?" she asked.

"The last Homely home, Gault repeated. He could see from her expression the title meant nothing to her so after requesting permission, Gault sat nearby and explained.

"Imladris, or Rivendell as the Edain often call it is-a refuge of sorts. Lord Elrond is an elf of uncommon temperament and character. He is a physician and scholar. And Rivendell is not like Lothlorien and Caras Galadhon, it is open to visitors and travelers alike. All are welcome within its walls though it is heavily guarded."

"By Lord Elrond's magic?" Hylin breathed. At this Gault smiled.

"By elves, skilled and fearless," Gault elaborated, "They would even rival our company if they could."

"I see," she glanced down at the pages before her, "I had never heard those tales of Rivendell among my people. There are only vague murmurs about how dangerous it is and how fearsome the ruler is with his enchantments."

"Those are more than rumors, Gault admitted ruefully, "Powerful magic guards the sanctuary as well. I have never seen it myself, but I can say that as one nears the borders of Imladris less and less of the evil holds sway on the land."

"It sounds quite wonderful," Hylin said, "I wonder how I've never heard the truth of it."

"That I cannot say, my lady," he rejoined, "The March Warden said you may require my company to continue your lessons in elvish. Is there anything I may help you with now?"

"Aye this," she gestured him close to her and tapped the page under a small word, "It repeats often in the stories of Lord Elrond, but I cannot understand it."

Peredhel

"It means, Half-elven, my lady, "Gault explained tightly, "It is an uncommon word amongst our people."

Hylin stared at him in shock.

"Do you mean to say that Lord Elrond of Rivendell is half Edain?"

He nodded.

Hylin tried to quell her surprise at this revelation. Gault had an expression of reluctance on his face about the topic. It clearly made him uncomfortable, but she could not tell why. Was this the reason Haldir had wanted her to read Elrond's story? To let her know that their love was not unprecedented. That their peoples had joined in love in the distant past and even included children. Hylin felt a rush of happiness in her heart at this. Haldir had known. He knew she may have questions and while he was away and could not answer them, he had wanted her to be able to find her own answers.

"I—I am surprised beyond all words," she managed awkwardly remembering her visitor, "I have never head of it."

"As far as I know," Gault explained, "The union of Elwing and Eärendil, his famed parents, was the last of its kind all ages since."

Hylin inclined her head to show she had heard him, but her mind was racing. How she wished Gault away now! She wanted to return to her book and greedily drink in all the details of Elrond's life. To understand how a beautiful immortal creature and an Edain could come together and produce a family—a lineage. Lord Elrond was one of the greatest of elves and that only half-elven. He was not suspected or despised by his people either. A vision of her future with Haldir was coalescing as her mind considered all the possibilities.

"Lady?"

Gault's gentle prompt brought Hylin back to the moment. He looked at her with curious green eyes.

"Forgive me, I was lost in thought," she said wryly, "If it pleases you, we can continue on with the lesson set out in my books."

They moved to her table and spent the next few hours studying together. It was difficult at first going through the process with someone new, but before the end of the day the two had found a comfortable rhythm to their speech. Gault was a fine teacher. He seemed younger in his manners than Haldir and slightly more reserved, nonetheless they got along quite easily through the lesson. More than once, he brought in the humor of mispronunciation and even hinted at teaching her a few elvish curse words.

"Well," Hylin eased back from her lesson book, "I don't know how suitable my elvish will be when the Warden returns, but it will certainly be well-rounded."

"I am sure my Lord Haldir will find nothing amiss on his return," Gault grinned with a twinkle in his eye. He stood and bowed slightly, "I must away now, my lady. Shall I come again tomorrow?"

"I should be glad to see you," Hylin stood and gestured toward her pile of books, "I have no doubt there are more secrets to learn, and I shall need a guide."

He inclined his redhead once more and was gone.

Hylin heaved a sigh. Finally, alone!

In the rosy rush of hours following Haldir's confession of love, Hylin had barely had a moment to think. Now, the gilded light of afternoon, Hylin wrapped her arms around herself and recalled all the madness of that happy time in the glade. The feel of his hands on her arms, her back, pressing her to him, the velvet softness of his lips on hers. Her heart raced at the memory of his body, careful held above her, while she longed to feel the weight of him pressing into her. There would never be enough of him. Not for her.

Heat rose in her face at the thought and Hylin covered her cheeks with cool hands. She drew in a deep breath to steady herself. She never thought she would feel this way about a man. But Haldir was not a man—he was elven kind.

"It will not happen without difficulty." He had said.

Suddenly a different emotion flamed through her. Shame.

Haldir did not know exactly how difficult their union may prove to be. He had hinted that he knew she lied about her origin and name, yet he never pressed her to reveal the truth to him. Could he have guessed her secret? Did he know who she was? No. If he thought she were betrothed to another, he would never have spoken. Decorum and regulation ruled his life as a solider. He was too honorable for such tactics. No, Haldir believed her to be free.

'But in my heart, I am free,' she told herself. 'I do not love Arathorn.'

Arathorn. She had not even thought of the man in months except in passing. She had removed the ring he gave her and kept it tied to the corner of a silk scarf so not to lose it, but Hylin could not longer bear the sight of it. For a moment, Hylin tried to remember his face, but the memory was blurred and obscured by time and the briefness of their meeting. He was the tallest man Hylin had ever seen, she recalled that much. His face was stern, weathered by long hours in the wilderness and his eyes had been a distant grey when she had dared to meet them. He was the perfect embodiment of all the Grey Rangers had been declared to be down to the hair as black as pitch.

Yet, he had attempted to be kind to her. Arathorn's touch had been gentle even if his hands were callused and rough. His attentions had been thoughtful though brief and he had not forced himself on her at all. The memory of him became stronger as she thought of Arathorn as if he had been waiting for consideration all these months. He was not a bad man. He might even be a good man. But somehow, that only made her feel worse

Hylin dropped her arms to her sides and defiantly shook her shoulders back. She was not going to think this way. Not now. Haldir loved her and she loved him. No vows made in the past could change the way they felt about each other.

The book, she thought, and turned to retrieve it from her study table.

Moving to her favorite seat near the fire, Hylin opened the volume to a page that depicted to identical elves. They stood shoulder to shoulder; one held an open book in hand, the banner proclaiming him Elrond, and the other drawing a sword from its sheath at his waist, was Elros. Both were beautiful, their skin fair as new milk with jet black hair and sharp grey eyes. Elrond's gaze looked out toward the reader while Elros looked away in the distance. The words above their heads read, The Fate of the Peredhil Elrond and Elros Eärendil.

'As directed by the birth of children from parents of mortal and immortal stock, the choice of the Elves and Men were given to the sons of Eärendil the Marnier and his wife Elwing daughter of Idril Silverfoot; Elrond and Elros. The choice to embrace the immortal ages of Elves and the hope of Valinor or to chose the fate of mortal men and embrace the sorrows of a brief life.'

Hylin read the words with shock. Children of elves and men could decide which path they chose? Her children could choose to be elves and live lives far beyond her own or live as men and women of Middle Earth to grow, live and die as Edain. She read on.

'From a young age, the Peredhil lived among their kin until the departure of their father and death of their mother. While the fame of their parents spread across Middle Earth, the twins were fostered in the house of the Sons of Feanor. In the enemy house of Feanor, the Peredhil grew in cunning and stealth to avoid rousing the fearsome anger of the Feanorians and their kith. Years passed and the heart of Maglor Feanorian grew kindly toward them and he loved them as his own, and wished them to chose to follow the Elven ways.'

'Graced in wisdom and strength of mind, Elrond grew under the tutelage of his captors until the time when his captivity ended and Maglor released his fosterlings to freedom to choose what fate they would. This was the beginning of the Second Age of Middle Earth. But Elros, fiery of heart and fierce in battle, turned his eyes away from the gift of immortality and choose instead the Fate of Men.'

'Given the long life of Elf kind, Elros became the ruler of the kingdom of Men called Numenor before his days were ended and he was laid to rest among the Edain dead of old. The sons and daughter of his body were blessed with long life and their kingdom grew in grace and power.'

Hylin allowed the book to slid from her hands as she mulled over this new information. She had never heard of this twin of Elrond, this Peredhel who found greater value in the Edain than the elves. Of course, she knew of Numenor from ages past. Everyone had been told the story of their great doom and destruction, yet never had the lineage of her kind come into the tale. Was it concealed? Or simply forgotten?

Hylin examined the page once more and bright illuminations on the page draw her eye. Detailed along the page were depictions of banners, and heraldry from Numenor, small pictures of famous weapons and crowns. Surely there was an elvish make to all of the designs, but as she turned the page, they grew more and more solid and heavy more Edain in fashion. There was something about them that stirred unease in Hylin's heart as she studied them. They seemed, familiar somehow.

She slammed the book shut suddenly.

Hylin pushed it away and stood swiftly going to her chamber to pull on a cloak. Before she reached it, Hylin caught her reflection in the mirror. She saw a hot, angry face. Her eyes were bright, almost tearful. Despite the cunning braids and beautiful elven style dress, she still saw herself as human.

"I am human," she whispered roughly.

"Did you say something mellon?" Roswyth asked swishing into the room. No doubt she had heard the girl's outburst perfectly. Hylin looked into her kind eyes and wished she could tell the elleth everything.

Instead, Hylin drew her cloak on and said, "I'm just going for a walk."

"Then I shall come with you." Roswyth nodded.

"No, I—I don't want company." Hylin did not meet her friend's gaze.

"I shall be silent as a stone," Roswyth promised, "But you cannot walk the wood alone. Haldir would never forgive me if something happened to you."

A gasp broke from Hylin's lips as she glanced at the elleth. Roswyth smiled shrewdly back, "Did you think your love a secret?"

"It is strange to hear you speak of it. I thought you –you made not approve of it." Hylin said.

"Do you love my friend Haldir?" Roswyth asked.

"Yes."

Roswyth shrugged, "That is all I ask."

The two women embraced each other tightly and arm in arm walked the paths of Lorien.