Chapter Four

SUMMARY: As he prepares to see his niece Melui, Vildan reflects upon his friend Elladan, and realizes a few things.

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"True love stories never have endings."

– Richard Bach

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Rivendell, 6th of September 2945 T.A.

Last night wasn't the first time since Vildan learned of his sister's death that he slept with the aid of a Losta-luith, but it was the only time he'd truly welcomed its oblivion. After the shock of seeing Melui and the affliction which kept her separate from the world she was in, after hours of weeping at his sister's grave, he was weary beyond words.

Vildan lay in his bed, eyes still closed, and he wondered how he was going to face this day, when some of the wisdom his friend had tried to pound into his head came to mind…

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South of the Gladden Fields, 15th of August 2945 T.A.

On their trip home, Elladan had been openly concerned for Vildan, which at the beginning of their journey was greatly appreciated, but after a week of constant attention, it was becoming annoying. Three days before they met up with Glorfindel's party, they had made camp in a small clearing surrounded by birch trees.

"Stop fussing!" he snapped, shaking off Elladan's hand. "I am not some delicate flower!"

"Indeed, you are not," Elladan said pleasantly. "Nor will I allow you to become one, lest my father blame me for neglecting you. I've no wish to face his wrath, so please shut up and eat your dinner. Then I will help you sleep."

"'Shut up?'" Vildan's lips pursed downward in irritation. "You have been hanging around Men far too long."

"'Hanging around?'" One corner of Elladan's mouth hooked upward. "Is this 'the pot calling the kettle black?'"

Vildan groaned and struggled to come up with a clever retort. "I am not hungry," was hardly clever, but it was the best he could manage. "And I can sleep well enough on my own."

Elladan's face was patient, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes. "If you believe you are as intimidating to me as my Adar when he becomes angry, you are either arrogant or foolish. Most likely both. Either way, I will do what I deem necessary to make sure you are rested and well-fed, even if I have to wrestle you into submission."

"Elladan," Vildan pleaded, "I know you mean well, but—"

"Mellon nîn." This time, Elladan's tone turned serious. "You call out in the night, even with the sleeping spells! I expected thus when we made camp in Mirkwood, but it continues! You are pale, and your hair is growing dull and your eyes are starting to turn grey. Not that pretty shade of grey, I might add."

Vildan growled and jumped to his feet. "Well, what would you expect?"

"Sit down, Vildan; these histrionics do not help."

"Stop treating me like a child!" His hands clenched at his sides, the fingernails biting into his palms so hard they bled. "Two weeks ago, my entire life was turned upside down!" he waved his fists outward. "I had to leave all my friends—"

"Not all your friends," Elladan reminded him evenly. "But you did leave your horse, and for that I am truly sorry."

"She…" Vildan's words were shakier than he liked, "Mistanâr was all I had left of my Ada, you know that."

For just a moment, Vildan allowed himself to picture Mistanâr in his mind, her belly heavy with the filly she was carrying. And, unbidden, the memory came to him of a tall, fiery red-haired daughter of the King, laughing as she ran her fingers through the mare's dark mane, and tracing the black line down the middle of her back…

Vildan's throat tightened so painfully words weren't possible. His fists loosened and he stared at the fire. Eventually he managed to say in a thin, faraway voice, "In one fell swoop, everything I ever expected my life to be is gone. I have lost those I care about most in this world, and I do not know what to do in the next moment, let alone the next weeks, or months." He met his companion's dark eyes. "I feel so lost, Elladan." With a sigh, he slowly lowered himself back to the ground and hugged his knees.

"My sister and her husband are dead, and I have no idea how I am going to make that up to the child they left behind! How could I possibly replace Meássë and Narseg enough so that Melui does not spend the rest of her life in pain, wishing for something she could never have! Do you have any idea how frightened I am?"

"I could not begin to guess," Elladan said gently. "But I know you will give her everything you are, everything you have. It is the best you can do."

"What if my best is not enough?" he asked. "Melui could grow up to be bitter and lonely, and it would be my fault!"

"Vildan, you do not have to carry this burden alone, and if you stop and think for a moment, you will see that. But if you do not use this time to muster your strength, you will fail before you have even arrived home!

"The loss of Meássë and Narseg is a terrible thing, and of course you are in pain, but do not make things worse for yourself. What you see as permanent now, might not be so. You know Mistanâr will be cared for, as well as her foal; they will be safe and comfortable for the rest of their lives. How do you know you will never see them again?

"As to the friends you have made in the North, our comrades will be returning in a month, and they will undoubtedly bring letters from those who did not get a chance to say farewell." Elladan's eyes softened. "The whole purpose of the Exchange Program is to help build lifelong friendships, and though they might be far away, are they truly lost to you forever?"

Vildan's eyes were drawn to the fire, mesmerized by the yellow and orange flames licking the underside of the log Elladan had just tossed onto it. "You are right, of course. I apologize for yelling." He winced, embarrassed. "I feel so…"

"You are miserable and terrified," his friend said, "and I would feel the same if it were me."

"I would rather be angry; it is easier to endure than despair." He ran his hands through his hair with a groan. "How do I get through this, Elladan?"

"How does anyone?" Elladan shrugged with a small smile. "By concentrating only on what is before you and taking things a step at a time. And, by allowing others to help you," he gave Vildan a pointed look. "Ae, mellon vuin nîn, I know you feel like you have lost everything now, but that is just the shock and fear. It seems impossible to see your way past these sorrows, now, but if you look to your left and to your right, you will see friends willing to walk this journey with you."

After a moment, Elladan cautiously approached another subject. "I know Tauriel has come to mean more to you than you expected, and things were developing between you two, but there is nothing to say it has to end—"

"Please!" Vildan's eyes shut and he held up his hand. "I cannot bear to think of that, just now."

"But why do you behave as if all hope is gone, Mellon?" Elladan moved a little closer to him.

"I do not have it in me to hope," he heaved a sigh.

"Do you love Tauriel?" Elladan asked.

"I… think I started to."

A quizzical eyebrow arched over Elladan's right eye.

"All right; yes, I do," he scowled. "Are you happy now?"

"Spoken like Lord Percy himself," the Elf smirked. "Do you think she grew to love you?"

"I am not sure. It seemed best to take things slow," he laughed wryly. "I thought we had plenty of time." He moved around to sit cross-legged, taking comfort in the warmth from the fire. "Is it cowardly to say I was glad I did not have to tell her goodbye personally?"

"Not at all. I saw how distraught you were to leave Mistanâr behind. How much more to say farewell to the possibility of a life you had just begun to envision?"

"I wrote to Meássë in June," Vildan's eyes burned, and he waved his hand in front of his face, pretending it was from the smoke. "I told her about Tauriel," he licked his lips. "I wanted to ask her for advice."

Elladan said nothing but tilted his head and waited.

"I planned to ask Lord Thranduil for permission to court Tauriel, but I could not consider such a thing without Meássë's blessing." His voice grew rough. "I do not know if she received it, and now…I will never know what her answer would have been."

"I am sure Meássë was pleased," a comforting hand settled on Vildan's forearm. "All she ever wanted for you was love and happiness."

"She always looked out for me," his eyes filled. "She was as a second Naneth to me, and after my parents sailed, it was just the two of us. Then she married Narseg and Melui was born, but she never let go of me. Oh, the arguments we had!" Vildan huffed a small laugh as he swiped his cheeks. "I did not like to be bossed by her, especially after I was promoted to the Vanguard. Now, I think that is what I will miss the most."

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Rivendell, 6th of September 2945 T.A.

The leaves on the trees outside Vildan's window were still green, though their blooms were long past. He slowly rose to the surface of wakefulness, instinctively turning his face toward the light as his eyes fluttered open. The air was crisp and fresh like Lothlórien, but the ever-present rushing of the Brunien River reminded him of where he was.

He was home, and for the briefest of moments his heart lifted at the familiar sight of the intricately carved beams, dark against the white plaster of the high vaulted ceiling. For a brief moment, he was at peace and was anxious to get up and see his family—

Memories all he had lost slammed into him, crushing the air out of his lungs. The idea of getting out of bed to face the day, even the next hour, seemed impossible. He lifted a hand to his chest and massaged it, hoping to ease the physical pain.

A soft tap on the door interrupted his musings. Still clutching his chest, he sat up.

"Neledâf," he called, smoothing back the hair that stuck to his face.

"Aur galu," Lindir entered the room carrying a tray with a pleasant smile. "Lord Elladan has sent you some breakfast."

The Aide and Counselor was not nearly as old as Lord Elrond, nor Lord Erestor. Lindir began his career under the Archivist and Librarian, and the staff of the House of Elrond were impressed with his sharp eye for detail, his quick thinking, and his ability to organize and anticipate his master's needs.

When Lord Rimion, who had previously served as Elrond's assistant, decided to sail, Erestor was approached with an offer to take his place. The Archivist, however, had just been wed to Commander Glorfindel and wanted to place his energies on the job he had loved for five millennia, and the husband he had loved for two.

"Nay, My Lord," Erestor said with regret. "I would do you a disservice. The better choice would be young Lindir, who has done remarkably well with the work I give him, yet I can see he grows increasingly bored and needs more of a challenge. In short, the work I give him is far beneath his abilities, and he can be easily replaced.

So, the assistant was summoned to meet with the Lord of Imladris, and after a long interview, it was done, and neither the Elrond nor Lindir has regretted it since.

"I appreciate the gesture," Vildan threw the covers back and crawled out of bed, "but I can go to the Dining Hall—"

"And you will, starting tomorrow morning," "But today, you are to eat everything on this tray."

"I will try," Vildan said, "though where I am supposed to find any sort of appetite is beyond me, at the moment."

"That is what we are here for," Lindir's tone was firm as he placed the tray on the table, poured out a hot cup of tea and handed it to him. "Now, drink up, while I butter your sweetbread." He picked up the bread and gathered some butter with the knife."

"And if I do not cannot eat it?"

"What do you think?" Elrond's Aide smiled impishly as he handed him the bread and a napkin.

Vildan took the bread gestured to the other chair. "Since you are staying, would you care to join me?"

"I have eaten, but I will sit." Lindir pulled out the chair and sat. "You look a bit more rested than you did yesterday. Which is not saying much."

"Another fact you will report to Lord Elrond?"

"Are my motives that transparent?" Lindir grinned. "My Lord tells me you will move to your permanent quarters today."

"I hope it will be with my niece," Vildan took a long drink and another bite. "I hardly remember where Elladan brought me last night." He stopped, worried. "I was not close enough for her to hear me, was I?"

"Worry not: your weeping did not disturb Tithen Melui in the slightest. You are sitting in the East Wing, near Elladan's rooms, so he could keep watch over you." Lindir told him. "You were in quite a state when they brought you back from the graves last evening, and he wanted to give you some privacy. "

He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank you."

"Trust me, Mellon," Lindir's smile was encouraging. "We all understand."

As Vildan finished his bread and sliced up his fruit, he noticed the Aide was giving him an expectant look. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all. I was not just sent here to give you breakfast, although from the looks of you I should have brought twice as much," his lips curved into a sad smile.

"Lindir," he pushed away his plate. "Of everyone in Imladris, no one observes more than you, and no one is more discreet. Is there anything you can tell me?"

"If it will help, though Laniër would know much more." the Elf crossed his legs and settled his hands in his lap. "You know she comes to stay at your sister's home when Meássë and Narseg must travel for work."

"The Ellyth have always been friends," Vildan said. "They both used to boss me around when I was young."

"You needed 'bossing," if memory serves," Lindir said. "Laniër was a spirited, adventurous child herself, and was highly skilled in weaponry. I was always surprised she did not join Lord Elrond's military, but when Meássë entered the service of the Lady Celebrian, Laniër joined her."

"All the better to protect the Lady, I suppose." Vildan said. "They did everything together, or so my parents always told me. Laniër had a sister, yes? Who wore her hair up, instead of down?"

"You are referring to Laniër's cousin, Lusiël? The three of them were friends as children. They all served as handmaidens to Lady Celebrian, you know."

"I remember."

"After the Lady sailed, Laniër and Meássë remained close, as their occupations complimented each other. Lusiël works with the tapestries in Lord Erestor's libraries, so they do not see as much of each other as I am sure they would like."

"The library is one place I would never visit unless I had to," he made a face.

"A fact of which your parents despaired, during your schooling," the Aide said.

Vildan bit his lip and mustered the courage to ask the question: "What happened to my niece, Lindir?"

"Melui spent most of the summer playing in the gardens and was perfectly fine, as many will attest to, both before her parents left, and for most of the time while they were gone."

"She always loved the flowers."

"She and I were friends, you know. Her mother used to help her pick flowers to bring to me. Her little fists would often crush the petals, and her bouquets were as likely to be made up of weeds, as not," his eyes lowered with a fond smile, "but that did not matter. She liked to help me select the perfect vase to put next to my desk… Oh!" His eyes lifted and met Vildan's. "Melui finally managed to climb up to Estel's tree house just before her parents left."

"She did?" Vildan's face lit up. "But her legs are not long enough!"

"They are still too short, but she somehow managed to stretch her arms up and reach the steps on the ladder and pull herself up, but alas, she did not know how to get down. Melui had been missing for over an hour; no one thought to look up there except Estel, who climbed up and found her sleeping."

"Meássë must have been frantic."

She was, but Narseg was thrilled. Melui was a bold, curious child," Lindir told him, "and I have to believe she will be so again."

"What happened to her?" he asked again.

"Melui was perfectly fine the day of the thirty-first of July. We saw her and Laniër in the Dining Hall, and after, Estel sat down with her and some of the other Elflings and read to them during the evening music. Several hours later, Laniër ran to Lord Elrond's rooms carrying the child, saying she woke up screaming, and then… she is in the state you have seen. It is as if…" he shrugged, "a light inside her just... went out."

Vildan ignored the lump of fear in his breast. "Could it be some sort of spell?"

"If Lord Elrond suspects that, he has not spoken of it to me," Lindir said carefully. "I caution you not to speculate as to the cause, unless it is in the confines of his study."

"Go on."

"Melui spent the next few days in our infirmary, and we kept her under careful watch. She did not speak, nor will she even look anyone in the eye." Lindir then asked, "You have seen Laniër?"

"Just for a moment. I hope to speak to her at length today. How is she taking all this?"

"Not well, but her focus on the child distracts her. There is something you need to know," Lindir leaned forward. "We have noticed that Melui grows a bit agitated if Laniër is not with her."

"That seems natural. I was gone, and she had no one else," Vildan said sadly. He threw down his napkin and rose. "I cannot eat any more. Thank you for breakfast, but I need to get ready."

"Of course." Lindir stood and gathered the dishes back onto the tray. "Elladan will meet you here in a half-hour and will accompany you to see Tithen Melui."

"Is that necessary?"

"Lord Elrond wants the child examined daily, and Elladan will be taking over temporarily as Melui's Healer. He also wants to make sure you are well."

"I do not need looking after," Vildan snorted impatiently. "I simply need to help my niece get well."

"Yes, you do," Lindir's response was firm, "because yes; you do."

In his bathing room, remnants of the lavender and Athelas from last evening's bath still hung in the air. Vildan closed his eyes and allowed the fragrances to seep into his skin, his hair, and his lungs, but it did little to soothe the swirl of butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in his stomach. After washing his face, cleaning his teeth and tying his hair into his customary knot at the back of his head, he glanced at himself in the small looking glass. "Stop stalling," he said to the nervous face that stared back at him. "You are as ready as you will ever be."

Vildan dressed in a plain burgundy tunic, brown leggings and black boots that came almost to his knees. He was just closing the door to his temporary quarters when Elladan stuck his head around the corner at the end of the hall.

"Are you ready, Mellon?"

"No," Vildan ran his damp hands down the front of his tunic, "but I am here." He averted his eyes to avoid Elladan's scrutiny. "Stop worrying," he grunted.

"I did not say anything."

"You do not need to," Vildan said.

"You still look tired."

"I have had plenty of sleep."

"Those circles under your eyes tell a different tale."

"I am just nervous," he waved dismissively, then changed the subject. "Do you think Melui knew I was there, yesterday?"

"We will soon find out." Elladan said. "Come on."

Their soft boots made little sound on the smooth floors of Elrond's halls, causing the son of Elrond to remark, "Would you believe Imladris seems almost too quiet after a year in the North?"

"Dale was noisy."

"Even Lord Thranduil's palace was full of chatter, thanks to all the foster-children. I liked it. Though no one could miss Estel when he is in the area."

"Have you seen him yet?"

"No, but I plan to, later today."

"I know what you are doing," Vildan said.

"I know you know," Elladan nudged him with his shoulder. "Is it working?"

"No," he admitted. "I am still nervous."

"Oh. What would you like to talk about?"

Vildan didn't respond, but continued walking, his head spinning with thoughts and ideas and fears and memories. When Elladan began to hum, he could take no more, and stopped in his tracks. "Would you please have some consideration?" he snapped, jabbing his elbow into Elladan's side. "I need to figure out how to get Melui through all this, and I have no idea where to start! If you must make noise, at least let it be something constructive!"

"Mellon nîn," Elladan turned to him and grasped both of his shoulders. "Do you really want to walk into that room with that look on your face?"

Vildan's mouth fell open, ready to throw out a crushing reply, when it dawned on him what his friend was doing, and his cheeks warmed with shame. Elladan wasn't refusing to take the situation seriously at all. He was one of the very few who completely understood not only what Vildan was feeling, not only how painful this was, but he was one of the few Elves who knew how to help.

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Just four centuries ago, Elladan's mother had been captured and tortured by a band of Orcs. This son of Elrond, along with his brother, had found Lady Celebrian chained to the wall of a cave, naked, cold, and nearly insane with grief at the humiliations forced upon her. 1

After weeks of waiting, of constantly beseeching the Valar for help, the silver bells Imladris announced the rescue party's arrival. With relief and optimism springing into the hearts of every Elf in the vicinity, they dropped what they were doing, picked up the hems of their robes and ran to the Courtyard to greet their beloved Lady and welcome her home.

But there were no cries of triumph. The thin, frail Elleth, wrapped in thick wool blankets up to her chin was barely recognizable. The long, shiny hair that would glisten in near-white waves under Arien's Sun, that would reflect the silver of Tilion's Moon at night, was now dirty and dull, as was her once-glowing complexion, both as grey as Elladan's horse.

And no one in that Courtyard could forget Lady Celebrian's murky eyes that looked longingly to the West. No one could forget Lord Elrond's strangled scream when he rushed down from the dais to his wife, took her from their son's arms and nestled her face into his neck as he carried her to the Healing Halls, his shoulders shaking with sobs. No one could forget the despondency in the faces of the Sons of Elrond as they followed, tears streaming down their faces, their bodies stooped with guilt.

Jubilation was instantly transformed into horror, and those that had gathered were unwelcome intruders in an intimate tragedy. They slinked away, eyes lowered, knowing what even Lord Elrond was not ready to accept just then: Celebrian, the Lady of Imladris, was lost to them forever, and was not long for this world.

After Celebrian sailed, many speculated whether Elrond might also be forced to sail, and perhaps he would have, if not for his children. Arwen didn't leave his side for many years and was his support and solace, while he struggled to regain his strength. During that time, the twins eased Elrond's burdens by taking over the running of the Last Homely House and all the surrounding lands of Imladris.

When the danger had passed, Elladan and Elrohir made it their mission to keep Elrond from falling into melancholy. They poked and prodded at their careworn Adar until his lips curved upward into a small smile. They refused to allow Elrond to become blind and deaf to the beauty of the flowers and the birds that sang in his garden. They told funny stories, played childish pranks on poor Lindir, Erestor, and even Lady Arwen until at last a laugh erupted from Elrond's chest.

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Few remembered the twins' private struggle, but Vildan did. Elladan and Elrohir mostly confided in each other, bonded as only twins can be, but occasionally he would come upon one or both of them wiping away surreptitious tears, or murmuring consolations to each other in rough voices.

And on this morning, Vildan recalled all those things, and understood that Elladan was right. He needed to set aside his own anxiety, to project nothing but strength and hope to Melui, or she might not feel safe enough to see past her prison.

Elladan's brows drew together. "Are you well?"

"I think I will be," Vildan gave his friend a tremulous smile.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Aur galu – Good morning

Neledâf – Come in

Tithen Melui – Little Melui (Little Sweet)

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NOTES:

[1] "In T.A. 2509, on a trip to Lórien to visit her parents, she was waylaid by Orcs of the Misty Mountains in the Redhorn Pass of the Misty Mountains. She was captured and tormented, receiving a poisoned wound. Her sons rescued her, and she was physically healed by Elrond, but she never fully recovered in mind or spirit, and no longer wished to stay in Middle-earth. She left for the Grey Havens and passed over the Great Sea the following year." /wiki/Celebrian

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