Rivendell
Third Age 2941
June

We arrived in Rivendell on June 4 and departed 28 days later, on Midsummer's Day. It seems an insignificant timespan, but this sojourn altered me in ways that I am still discovering. I can't imagine what would have become of me if our brief visits had not overlapped. Some might say that one does not simply fall in love within such a short stretch. Maybe they would find it impossible, but love burned within me even as we tramped out of that hidden sanctuary and on into the Misty Mountains.

Bilbo once said that Rivendell was perfect whether you liked food, work, singing, or sleep. All of this is true. I would also say that it is a perfect place to stand on a balcony at midday, drinking an ale and watching the world go by. That is where I found myself on June 7. It was a third floor balcony, attached to the common living space that the company shared for the duration of our stay. We each had private bed chambers set off of it, but every waking moment when we weren't out roaming the gardens, tending to the ponies, tinkering in the forge, or lazing in the bathhouse was spent here. We shared meals, mended clothes, mucked around with various pet projects, made and revised plans, and pored over Thorin's map.

Most of us slept heavily that morning; we were still recovering from being roughed up and nearly squashed into jelly by trolls, mind you. So, we were just rolling out of our beds and shaking the cobwebs out of our heads as the sun slid toward the middle of the sky. We decided to start our day off right with fried eggs, hash browns, meat pies, fruit tarts, cheese, bread, and brunch ales, of course. The room was a bit steamy from the summer weather, the cookfire, and all of our bodies, so I padded around the dim room shirtless and barefoot - until I stubbed my toe on Dori's hammer. That's when I decided to throw open the balcony doors to let in some light. A chorus of groans rang out as the sun poured in.

"You all sound like trolls back there," I taunted, then stepped out onto the balcony, raised my mug to my lips, and took a satisfying swig. "It's just a little sun, it won't turn you to stone."

"That's too bright!" cried Fili, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Halfway would be plenty."

"Leave it open!" Kili, called, sneaking up on his brother and initiating an impromptu wrestling match by tickling his undefended armpit. "It smells too much of unwashed dwarves in here."

I turned away from the ruckus behind me to take in the view: the valley's steep basalt walls soaring above the tall spires of the great house, waterfalls spilling and frothing all around. I wondered at the cataclysmic flooding that must have carved out this place. In the bailey below, a tiny slip of an elf maid with waist-length platinum white hair stood talking to Elrond and Imladan, Rivendell's head smith. Her high, silvery voice rang out, echoing throughout the vale. I couldn't understand a word she spoke, but I could listen to her all day. Then came a rumble behind me as the two lads fell over a table and tumbled to the floor.

"That's enough!" shouted an exasperated Thorin, who had been tucking into his plate before they upended it into his lap. The wrestling stopped abruptly, but the rumbling continued. I thought for a moment that I was hearing another echo until I realized that this was a new sound: hoofbeats from up the road, growing louder as the unseen horses grew near.

I leaned casually against the balcony railing, sipping my ale, as a group of riders in glittering mail came into view. I counted seven of them, and by their tall, graceful forms they could only be elves. They all wore helmets and bore bows, a couple carried spears or swords. They laughed and sang merrily as they reined in their steeds and dismounted.

"Hey, you might want to see this," I said, waving to the others still inside. As cheery as the riders seemed, their weapons and mail made me nervous. We had met Elrond barely three days before and - while he was a gracious host - he made it no secret that he was not overly fond of us.

The shining-haired elf maid ran forward to greet the warriors just as Bifur, Glóin, and Nori emerged, shirtless like me and bearing frothy mugs. Thorin followed slightly behind, wary eyes taking in the weapons.

"Who do you think they are ... soldiers of Elrond's?" he asked.

"They're all wearing different heraldry," Glóin pointed out. And indeed they all wore different round emblems on their shoulders; flowers, trees, leaves, stars, birds, a ship, a river.

The lead rider pulled off her helmet, loosing a cascade of flowing copper hair. As if on cue, the others followed suit, freeing tresses of pale gold and onyx black, with varying shades of amber and carnelian in between.

"Oh," Bifur breathed.

"They're all elf maids," I said, my voice rising a full octave as my throat constricted. I watched with a different sort of interest now, as the tall copper-haired elf strode forward and swung the platinum-haired maid into her arms. Then they all converged, laughing and embracing.

"They're no threat to us at any rate," said Nori. "Armed or no."

"Except to Bofur's honor," Glóin said with a laugh, elbowing me in the ribs.

Thorin sighed and rolled his eyes, retreating back into the common room. "Kindly refrain from any actions which may draw our host's ire," he growled, glaring pointedly at me before returning to what remained of his meal. "As much as I hate to admit it, we cannot leave until the map's runes are translated for us. Do you understand me?"

"I would never do anything to jeopardize our quest," I said innocently. "I wouldn't even know what to do with an elf maid." This was a bald-faced lie, as a very pleasurable scenario involving all eight of them in a fountain was already playing out in my mind. I had never had much to do with elves up to that point, but always possessed a vivid imagination.

"They're all so spindly," Nori said with disgust, "They've such oddly long legs."

"Legs like theirs could wrap 'round your whole body," I mused, leaning against the railing and raising my mug again, just as the whole group of them sauntered past, hips and arms and hair swinging loosely. I marveled at how their armor made no sound as they walked.

"Thank you for adding fuel to my nightmares," spat Nori, retreating inside with a shudder.

I was about to take another drink when an elf with hair like onyx chanced to look up, her fierce gaze lifting straight to the balcony and catching me looking back. She had sharp features, bronzed skin, and fathomless eyes. A long, slender sword hung high around her waist. Meeting those eyes was like being caught in a surprise mountain storm. The sensible thing would be to seek shelter, but I chose to stay and tempt the lightning. Awed, I raised my mug in tribute and smiled with what I hoped she would take for charm.

Her top lip curled in amusement, and she turned to her friends, saying something in a low voice that I could not catch. The others all looked up and laughed as they continued on up the wide marble steps, before disappearing into the main courtyard.

Silence fell over the three of us on the balcony. Bifur broke it by clapping me on the shoulder and saying, "Your beard is full of crumbs and ale foam."

Glóin laughed and headed back inside, but Bifur remained behind to finish his ale with me. We drank on, continuing the conversation with glances and gestures.

I'm watching out for you, said his eyes.

I don't need you to, said mine.

That encounter on the balcony might have been the end of it, had curiosity not gotten the better of me. I thought to ask Gandalf whether he knew the elf maids in question, but we didn't see him all that day or evening. The next morning I decided to take a walk about the gardens to see if I might bump into any of them. I had no specific goal in mind other than to ask after their names, specifically that onyx-haired enchantress who I was certain could end me with a single thrust of her blade.

I had no intention of seeking a tryst - and not just to avoid angering Thorin or Elrond. Wooing a lady so fierce was clearly beyond my skill. No doubt she would sooner slice my neck clean through then suffer a fool like me to make an advance. Still, I felt myself compelled to make her acquaintance during our stay.

I arose early, early for me, anyway, and by mid-morning was dressed in clean clothing; my beard oiled, combed out to a gloss, and tied in a loose braid with my mother's favorite yellow jasper beads.

"Who's up for a walk through the gardens?" I asked, thinking that perambulating as part of a group would make me less suspicious - or at least harder to bury should the morning go wildly astray.

"I'll could do with a stroll," said Bilbo.

"We could use the fresh air," Kili said, Fili already running to grab their boots from the pile by the door.

Ori decided to join us as well, which meant that Dori tagged along. Bifur and Bombur were still in the bath, which meant I avoided their scrutiny altogether.

Within ten minutes the six of us were wandering through a seemingly endless maze of gardens, past little waterfalls and over footbridges. Fili and Kili balanced on the handrails, seeing how fast they could run across. We stopped many times to discuss the masonry and architecture, and follow the little rivulets flowing out from the Bruinen to see where they connected with the plumbing. I'm sure these side treks and diversions bored poor Bilbo to tears.

I might have become impatient too, if I wasn't as fascinated with building as the others. Asking them to hurry would be fruitless, anyway. Fresh green scents filled the air and a light breeze tempered the heat of the sun, so it was a pleasant walk with cheerful company. Eventually we circled back and found ourselves on a different path than where we'd started. Suddenly a high melodic trill pierced the air.

At first we took it for some exotic bird. As the song played on, sliding up and down a B flat scale in glissando after glissando with no bird in sight - no matter how many trees Fili and Kili climbed in search of it - we concluded that it must be some strange Elvish instrument, and decided to track down the musician.

"Kili, run back and grab our fiddles!" Fili cried out.

"Brilliant," Kili answered. "If we join in maybe they'll reveal themself!"

"Ori, go grab our flutes," Dori said. "We'll stay here and keep looking," he continued, gesturing to Fili.

"Can you fetch my clarinet, as well?" I asked. I didn't want to risk leaving, only to return to find that the music had ceased.

Bilbo walked back with the two of them while the three of us struck off down a shaded side path. We stopped outside a high walled garden where the music seemed to originate. It sounded a little like a harp, and also breathy like a flute. I could almost mistake it for a woman singing, but for an unearthly quality to the voice. I imagined one of the Ainur themselves had come to sing for us. Voices murmured in Elvish below the high-pitched lilt of the mysterious instrument. Occasionally we heard ringing metal. Someone striking a triangle I thought.

"If only we could find a way in," Fili said, trying to jump up to see over the solid stone wall. This was no use, as it towered far above our heads.

"Do you suppose there's a hidden gate?" asked Dori.

I was too preoccupied with trying to identify the voices to answer. I'd only heard her speak a single sentence the other day, but I wanted to believe that one of the voices I caught snatches of was hers. I heard at least two distinct voices, one definitely a woman. She could very well be talking to a lover right now, I chastised myself.

Before I could talk myself into leaving well enough alone and returning to our quarters, a young human boy jumped down from one of the trees overhanging the path, landing beside Dori and me. He was a lanky, serious-faced lad with clear gray eyes. The boy peered curiously at us from beneath a dark mop of overgrown hair.

"There is a hidden gate," he said, "I have been looking for it myself."

"Hello," I said, startled by his unexpected entrance. "Do you know who's making the music?"

Before he could respond, Kili and Ori ran up the path with our instruments in tow.

"Where's Bilbo?" I asked.

"He said, 'It's almost time for elevenses'," said Kili.

Fili took his fiddle from his brother and the two lads set about tuning the strings. Ori handed me my clarinet, and as he and Dori lifted their flutes to their lips it occurred to me how ridiculous we must appear.

"I'd heard there was a group of dwarves staying here. Are you a troupe of traveling musicians?" the boy asked, knitting his brow.

We dwarves all looked at each other. Thorin had given us strict orders not to divulge where we were going, nor our reasons for going there. Elrond knew, of course, but no one else.

"Yes," Kili said, beaming. "We are musicians and would be honored to play for you."

Before I could regret this predicament, he launched into a bawdy tavern ballad that clashed with whatever the elves were playing on the other side of the garden wall. I could do nothing by this point to avoid humiliation, so I joined in with abandon, feeling a desperate giddiness welling up from my belly. My shoulders shook with barely contained laughter at the absurdity of the situation. The strange elvish music abruptly cut off. A hidden door midway down the garden wall creaked open and a head of copper peered out.

"Man si?" asked the copper-haired elf maid from the day before.

"We heard music," Kili said, still fiddling, "and decided to join in!"

The elf scanned the lot of us, unsettling aquamarine eyes pausing for a moment on me in particular before moving on to the boy.

"Estel, what's going on out here?" she said with a scowl.

"They're traveling musicians. They want to play for you," Estel said, eyes darting about.

I lowered my clarinet, grinned, and laughed, no longer able to hold it in.

"Musicians?" The elf said, her strong voice now loaded with sarcasm. "Have you come here to entertain us?"

"We live to entertain," I said with a bow.

The elf snorted, throwing the door wide, then turned toward someone inside the garden and called out, "Fevelien, the entertainers you hired are here."

"The shirtless dwarves from the balcony?" Fevelien answered, and I recognized her low melodious voice at once. "Send them in!"

FIli and Kili both turned on me with wicked grins as they marched through the door. Dori and Ori followed next while I, face burning, brought up the rear.

"Not you," The copper-haired elf said, and I turned to see her stop Estel with a finger pointed at his chest. It was then that I noticed she held a longsword in her other hand.

The boy deflated in disappointment, "Can't I at least watch?" he asked.

"You need permission, first," she said.

"Oh, as our personal attendant for this stop on our musical tour, Estel's presence is not only permitted, but required at every rehearsal and performance," I said, grinning nervously as the elf's unnervingly placid eyes rounded on me. The boy's mouth turned upward at one corner.

"Let him in Calearphen," Fevelien said.

"Didn't Elrond warn us?" Calearphen, the copper-haired elf, sighed, waving the boy forward. We entered a long, narrow courtyard. It appeared to be set up as a training facility, with weapons racks stationed at either end and a pair of stone benches on each long side. There were no instruments to be seen, other that the ones we carried.

Calearphen glared at her, Fevelien.

"Elrond forgets how quickly boys grow into men," Fevelien said. "It's about time our little Estel learned to properly wield a sword," she added, tousling the boy's hair.

He pulled away from her touch, pretending to be too old for such affection even as a smile flickered over his face.

Fevelien held her longsword loosely, her pose relaxed, a stormy glint in her eyes. Close up I could see they were a deep violet. She stood only about a foot taller than me; nearly six inches shorter than her friend. She'd traded her armor for a loose green tunic, slim grey pants, and soft leather shoes. She'd pulled her hair back in a sloppy bun tied off with a strip of sinew.

"So, you do wear shirts," Fevelien said coolly, eyeing us all in a manner that suggested she was determining the best places on each of us to stick her sword. "Between the fur on your chest and the fur on your chin, I wasn't entirely sure you required them."

"Not for warmth or protection from the sun," I said slyly, "Dwarvish skin is naturally rugged. No, we only don shirts to keep away all the young maidens. They'd be fawning all over us wherever we go, otherwise."

Calearphen grunted, saying, "I must be immune to your spell."

Fevelien pointed to a broadly beaming Estel, and said, "No word of this to Elrond - or your mother."

She strode towards where we huddled in the middle of the yard, her eyes roving over each of us for a moment more before nodding to Calearphen, who had moved silently behind us. "Should we all introduce ourselves properly, then?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing.

"I'm Fevelien of the Woodland Realm, though Rivendell has long been a second home to me." she said, then gestured to the boy.

"I am Estel. I live here with my mother, Gilraen," The boy said, standing up straight and tall as he spoke.

"And I'm Calearphen," said the taller, copper-haired elf. "I also hail from the Woodland Realm. Rivendell has served as a respite to me in difficult times, and is home to my betrothed."

"Oh!" I said, remembering her entrance the day before. "The platinum-haired maid?"

Calearphen nodded stiffly, "Her name is Gliriel."

"Dayamu khuzan ai-menu," Fili said, "That's, 'Blessings of the ancestors upon you'. When's the big day?"

"Next Midsummer," Calearphen answered tersely, "We've just come here now for the betrothal feast. And your names?"

An awkward silence fell as our eyes darted from one to another, debating who should go first - oldest or highest ranking?

"Fili and Kili at your service!" the young princes said in unison, bowing low and bobbing back up again with such vigor that their beards brushed the paving stones.

"We come to you from the Blue Mountains," said Fili.

"And we are expert fiddlers," said Kili.

Dori and Ori looked terrified, so I stepped forward slightly and, adding a little extra growl to my already rumbling bass, dipped at the waist and said, "Bofur at your service, along with Dori and Ori, also of the Blue Mountains."

I gestured with my not insignificant eyebrows for them to bow as well. Dori bowed stiffly, while Ori did a sort of graceless curtsy, eyes round and white as full moons.

"At yours and your family's," Fevelien said in return, exchanging a glance with Calearphen before adding, "And you're also musicians?"

"Yes," said Dori, holding up his flute.

Ori did the same. "Where are your instruments?" he asked.

The two elves shared another glance and laughed.

"We were out for a walk," I said, smiling nervously, "when we heard your music and came looking for its source."

I continued smiling, though I suspected that we'd made a grave mistake. The two elves laughed again.

"We can return to the song that you interrupted earlier," Fevelien said, eyes flashing.

We nodded, eying the swords they still held in their hands. Maybe Bilbo had had the right idea. But surely they wouldn't murder us in front of the boy, would they?

"We'll need you to take a seat," Calearphen said, gesturing to the bench behind us. We backed up and sat down, the boy with us, as the elves took up positions in the center of the courtyard, swords in hand.

"Follow my lead," Fevelien said to her companion. She raised her sword, holding it up straight before her as she ran her left hand deftly along it's edge, chanting, "Linno annin!."

The blade began to hum softly. She dropped her left arm and raised the sword to the level of her eyes, the blade's hum growing louder. Caleraphen raised her own sword with both hands and lunged forward, swinging the blade out at Fevelien with all her weight. The hum swelled into a full-bodied song as Fevelien caught her blade and turned it aside, her movements fluid and dance-like. The two of them lunged and feinted in synchrony, telling a story with their movements.

Any one of Calearphen's blows could have eviscerated, dismembered, or shattered Fervelien if they'd landed, but the smaller elf evaded them all, either by dodging or diverting them with her own blade. She moved so quickly that her hands and feet blurred. I gaped at them, we all did, Ori with an open mouth and Fili and Kili bouncing in their seats, eager to jump up and join in.

"'Uzghukamthuna," I whispered, the only word I had to adequately describe what we were witnessing. Battlesinging. We had had similar warriors once, though few had survived the Battle of Azanulbizar. The last of them had gone to dwell with Mahal in the intervening years.

At last they fought each other to a draw, Fevelien's blade tip pressed to Calearphen's chest while Calearphen's blade edge lay against Fevelien's neck. They lowered their swords, gripped hands, then turned toward us on the bench.

"Amazing!" Fili said.

"Brilliant!" said Kili, "Can you teach us?"

Calearphen snorted with derision. "Why would a troupe of traveling musicians want to learn sword fighting?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It would add something to our performances that no other musicians have," I said, grasping for something, anything that would allow us to stay. "Plus, there are many dangers out on the road, as I'm sure you know. We were accosted by trolls a short time before stopping here."

"Huge trolls!" said Kili. "They planned to eat us."

"We barely escaped," said Fili.

Fevelien watched us silently during this whole exchange. I felt her eyes cut into me.

"We could teach you a few verses, if you wish," she said. "Though, learning them will not be easy."

"We'll work hard!" Fili insisted, Kili nodding enthusiastically.

"What have you gotten us into, Fevelien," Calearphen muttered.

"Grab the practice swords over there, and join us," Fevelien said. "Or you could stay there on the bench and play your clarinet."

The others had already run to grab the blunted swords, while I remained seated. I sheepishly got up, selected a falchion from the rack, and took up position in the center that the lads had left open for me. Fili winked at me as I passed him, and I felt tempted to thump him hard on the chest for it.

I flexed my sword arm, acclimating myself to the falchion's balance. Truth be told, I'd only ever wielded axes and hammers. I liked that this blade was thicker and heavier at the end, at least. It would be good for heavy chopping and hacking blows. Fevelien, studying us in turn, nodded her approval at my weapon choice.

"You're not ready for a full verse," she said, once again raising her blade to eye level. "First you need to learn the seven notes. Follow my lead."

"Let's see if you can keep up," Calearphen said with a smirk.

They ran us through all seven movements in sequence again and again, until Fevelien was satisfied that we could perform them well enough to move on. Finally she nodded.

"We're going to run through the first phrase, now. I'll call out each note as we go," she said.

What followed was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, as we dwarves stomped and slashed our way around the courtyard, all too cognizant of the loud offbeat drumming of our feet on the stones as we attempted to mirror the elves perfectly synchronized movements. Fili and Kili snickered and shoved each other playfully after we'd stumbled to a halt.

"That wasn't quite as terrible as I'd expected," Calearphen said with a laugh.

"Again," Fevelien commanded, and we began stomping once more.

"Again," Fevelien repeated.

"Again."

"Again."

Something shifted during our fifth attempt, as the group of us started to settle into the rhythm. Our thudding feet began to sound less like cacophony and more like drumbeats emphasizing each measure. On our sixth attempt, the elves kept going, leading us into the next section. We somehow managed to stay on beat, and so we continued on like this for over an hour. I barely noticed the sweat trickling down between my shoulder blades or catching in my eyebrows, until at last Calearphen announced that it was lunch time, and that they had to return Estel to his mother before she grew suspicious and came looking for him.

We hung our weapons on the racks, and as I wiped the sweat from my face I noticed that neither elf had a bead of sweat on her. Fevelien's hair had fallen half out of her bun, but otherwise you'd never have guessed at the exertion they'd just subjected us all to.

Estel turned back to us as Calearphen shooed him away through a second hidden gate. "You'll train with us tomorrow then?" he asked, looking toward me. FIli and Kili's grins spread almost as wide as mine felt, and even Ori nodded.

"Yes, we'll meet you here again tomorrow, at..." I looked toward Fevelien, who had loosed her hair completely from it's tie, and looked as irresistible as an untouched mountain peak. If she would have invited me to back to her bed chamber I would have followed with no hesitation.

"10 o'clock," she said, ignoring Calearphen's stormy glare. She nodded toward the gate that Estel disappeared through now. "Come this way, I'll show you the short way around from your rooms."

"The long way was quite picturesque," I said, following her through the gate onto a path lined with plum trees.

"I'm sure it is, but if you were to say, sleep in and enjoy an ale or two before heading over, you'll find this way is much quicker," she said, twisting her hair back into its bun.

Indeed it was. Just a short way along the lane we turned a corner and discovered the wider path that led toward our wing of the grand house. Bifur, Bombur, Nori, Óin, and Glóin all sat on the shaded marble steps leading up to the back entrance, playing a game of cards.

"I appreciate it," I said with a wink, "but I don't know where you could have gotten the idea that we're the sort to drink ale first thing upon waking."

"So yesterday, that was some other frothy liquid coating your beard?" she asked.

"Umm-milk," I stammered, gesturing toward the others. My mind had gone in a more vulgar direction, but her sharp gaze - combined with the sword in her hand - kept my mouth clean. "We all enjoy frothy mugs of milk each morning."

"Milk, yes," they all chimed in.

"Our mothers filled our mugs each morning," Bombur said, "and we've been drinking it the same ever since." The others all nodded agreement.

"Right, I'll see you after your morning mugs of milk, then," she said, long legs pivoting and walking her back whence she'd come.

"Did you find the musician?" Nori asked, and I heard her snort.

"You should come tomorrow, and hear for yourself!" Kili exclaimed.

"Oh! Can our other friends come too?" Fili called after her.

She shrugged. "Why not? Come along, all of you. Even professional musicians need to be prepared to fight trolls," she called back, disappearing around the corner.

What have you gone and done?, said Bombur's disapproving sigh.

"I'm ready for lunch," I said, heading up the stairs. Fili and Kili dashed up after me, and no more was said on the matter until the next day. By then it was too late.

Notes:

Man si? = Who is there? (Sindarin)

Linno annin! = Sing to me! (Sindarin)

'Uzghukamthuna = Battle-songwoman (Khuzdul)