"Are you warm enough?" Celeborn whispered as he fixed the blankets around his beloved and pulled her securely in his arms. Indiriel had arranged comfortable seats for them with a spectacular view of the festival of lights. She pivoted slightly on his lap and kissed the junction where his neck met his shoulder.
"I am well, Melleth." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Well enough to desire an early departure from the festivities."
"That well?" He leaned forward to kiss her full on the lips. The crowd was too enthralled by the torch-lighting ceremony to notice anything, but he nearly gasped when she opened her lips and ardently returned his kiss, for it was rare that they indulged in a public place. The ancient chant swelled around them before he released her breathlessly.
"Indeed," Galadriel whispered.
Xxxxxxxx
Once his ceremonial duties were over, Elrond was swept up by the crowd. He could feel palpable fear and confusion from strangers who suddenly realized his identity, but no one addressed him. It was strange to feel alone in such a crowd. Thus, it was disconcerting when he was accosted by a dark-haired elf. Elrond hesitated to answer the peculiar elf. But, surely, he was safe here among those who had gathered for the solstice festival. And yet - he sensed waves of anguish, anger, and other unidentifiable emotions emanating from the dark eyes.
"I am Elrond Earendilion."
"I know who you are." The words were bitted off, edgy, and deliberately provoking.
"I am sorry, but I do not recall meeting you. Have I wronged you in some way?"
"Yes … and no." The elf turned away from the too-silver eyes to hide his desire to inflict some of the pain he felt on this Ellon, who looked too much like his beloved. The eyes mocked him, for they were as mithril, sparkling and full of life, life that his love had thrown away. Her words echoed in his head. "How have I wronged you? I am sorry, but I do not think of you that way." The dagger in his tunic inched closer to his aching hand. His dark self-conscious mocked. "They were true and noble elves. But they are all dead now. Here is my chance to wipe the pity and sympathy off Lúthien'svisage. Those eyes had flashed at him in anger at his betrayal. Twice you betrayed her." No, Lúthien's eyes only held confusion. Those cheekbones sported some harder lines that spoke of the second born. He had chosen this one as the easier target. This twin appeared weaker than his brother. His hand stroked the hilt of the knife inside his cloak. This one he could dispatch. He had the element of surprise. Had not a small dwarf sent his great King to Mandos' Hall? "This one is innocent, but he is a mockery of her flesh and blood. "
"I would rethink your actions, Sindar." A strong hand halted his movement as it grasped his arm. Cirulian held on silently as Glorfindel simultaneously moved to distract the Peredhel.
"Elrond, I found them. Come this way."
"What?" Had the situation been different, Cirulian might have laughed at the youth's confusion.
"Who?" Glorfindel smiled and employed the gentle art of distraction. His stance was calm and his mood joyous. "Erestor and his family are waiting. We shall need to make our way to him through this crowd, for he is still in no state to walk such distances."
"Still?" Elrond's concern was instant and displaced all thought of the odd encounter. Cirulian waited until he was sure they were out of earshot before addressing the suspicious elf.
"A Teleri guarding that mongrel!" The elf's derogatory title was bitten off into a cry of pain as Cirulian wrenched the dagger from his hand.
"It is with great pride that I guard our Prince. You will come with us." Cirulian and Durgin led the elf discreetly away, not wishing to draw attention away from the festivities.
Xxxxxxxxx
"Here we are," Glorfindel announced joyously as unceremoniously maneuvered Elrond through the crowd. The youth seemed to grimace at times. "Was he sensing other people's thoughts?" Glorfindel mused. He had not heard anything said aloud that was either derogatory or complimentary towards the peredhel. No, people did not know what to think and therefore held their tongues.
"Erestor! There's no need to stand up. How are you feeling?" The healer was immediately concerned at his friend's weary demeanor. Erestor was cocooned in a warm quilt, his feet elevated on a neighboring chair, but his eyes lit up upon seeing his friend.
"Elrond, you look like a Prince now!" Erestor smiled, but Elrond reacted uncharacteristically, grimacing and turning away. Erestor caught the softly muttered phrase.
"I thought you were my friend." Elrond failed to hide his unease. Erestor reacted quickly to catch Elrond's hand.
"Counting you as a dear friend is my honor and good fortune." Erestor met the uncertain silver eyes with a warm smile. "Please come sit by me and tell me about your stay in the forest. It seems that Calimdriel and Orodiun have their hearts set on having their wedding ceremony there. You will come, won't you? You must tell us what to expect! Was their culture much different?"
"Orodiun and his brothers are much liked among the Avari. I expect you will all be warmly welcomed." Erestor did not catch what was omitted, but Glorfindel did. The Vanya's heart ached at the unspoken loneliness.
"Best wishes for a joyous New Year." Niphendriel's light touch startled him from his thoughts. He turned to raise her hand to his lips.
"The coming year will bring joy as we celebrate the uniting of your house with Oropher's. Where is the betrothed pair?" Glorfindel looked around curiously.
"They are dancing and have yet to sit out a song." Niphendriel laughed. Glorfindel considered his charge, who was deep in conversation with Erestor. He signaled the guards assigned to the Peredhel to keep a close watch.
"Perhaps we could join them?"
"Is that your way to invite a Lady to dance?" Niphendriel smiled.
"I would be delighted if you chose to join me for a dance." Glorfindel bowed and extended his arm to her.
"It is my pleasure."
Xxxxxxxxx
The festival continued through the night and well into the next day. Cirdan had thought of checking on Elrond sooner. When he finally located Glorfindel, the Vanya informed him that their young friend was safely ensconced in his rooms. The Mariner meandered there once the crowd dispersed. It was quiet in the royal living area. Receiving no response to his knock, Cirdan slowly opened the door. The sight before him touched his heart. There at the desk, fingering books, sat Elrond. Tears streamed down his cheek.
"Elrond?" The youth bowed his head in response to Cirdan's greeting. Although his unbound hair now hid his face, the Mariner could feel the despair that radiated from the figure.
"So little…perhaps if I had done more…"
"Shhh, young one." Cirdan pulled the trembling figure into his arms. "You fought bravely and helped save many lives."
"Not enough." Grief, weariness, and self-recrimination were present in those few words.
"The war is over, but the healing remains." The Mariner's voice was soft and sympathetic. The adjustments for the coming years were not going to be easy. "You are of the elves. This is your home."
"What am I that so many despise me?" The quiet voice betrayed turmoil and self-loathing. Cirdan realized that the youth, barely of age, would have to first learn to accept and love himself before he could truly deal with the consequences of his choice.
"You must explore who you are and what you are becoming, young prince. If you respect and love yourself, others will also respect you."
"Many will never accept."
"Not everyone will be a friend. No matter who you are. Some accept me. Some dislike me. But they respect and honor my role as leader of the Teleri. So it will be with you." A poignant silence led Cirdan to broach upon his reason for seeking out the youth. "I spoke to Glorfindel and Gildor. It would be my honor to teach you further about these mental gifts from the One. You should not have to suffer hearing the unguarded thoughts of others." The most appropriate lessons based on a shared gift should have passed from Dior to Elwing to Elrond. Alas, fates conspired to deprive even Elwing of such teachings.
Xxxxxxxxx
"Elrond performed admirably for one who typically shuns the spotlight." Ereinion reclined in their comfortable, though still spartan suite.
"He did it out of love for us. He would never dream of disappointing you." Indiriel preempted her husband softly. "But I fear these years of transition will be fraught with danger, and we may lose him."
"Lose him?"
"I fear he will flee, preferring to hide himself away from the many who hold him in contempt for things beyond his control."
"Do not fear. We will care for him. I will check on him tomorrow." Ereinion promised as he guided his wife their bed. The rest of their evening would be spent reveling in each other's company.
Xxxxxxxxxx Early the next morning xxxxxxxxxX
"Cirdan?" Gil-Galad was astonished to see the old Mariner reading books by candlelight in Elrond's room. The young Peredhel seemed to be sleeping soundly. Cirdan had tucked the blankets securely around him. The Mariner looked up from his studies and motioned for silence. Rising, he selected several books from the shelf before leading Gil-Galad from the room.
"Dawn already?" The Mariner stretched slightly as he closed the door behind them.
"Is Elrond well?"
"He is tired, for I worked long with him last night and gave him a sleeping draught. Hopefully, he will rest until this afternoon. But, let us talk further in your study so as not to be disturbed." Gil-Galad nodded, and they walked back along the corridor. Indiriel and he had agreed to have Elrond's rooms located in the family section of the palace, in a small alcove that jutted away from their wing.
"Gwathloth, would you please send breakfast to my study."
"Gladly, my King." The maid curtsied and hurried off.
"The youth performed well at the ceremony."
"Yes," laughed Gil-Galad. "I expected no less, little though he liked the scrutiny. He actually complained at my insistence that he be addressed as Lord."
"What does he have against the title?"
"I believe he would state that it is unearned." Gil-Galad smiled wryly. "Although his actions during the war have more than proven him worthy of the title."
"It is good that he was born here and not in Aman, where society is rigidly tiered by rank," Cirdan exclaimed.
"Yet in Aman, he would be one of many younger Princes surrounded by a loving family. Here, he will soon be the sole survivor of many houses. He has lost much already and stands to lose yet more."
"You have claimed him for your House."
"The Sindar were not pleased. But we love him dearly, and he needs a home. Indiriel worries we may still lose him."
"He loves you both too much to stay away for long. His spirit recovers slowly, though he faces a difficult adjustment. He will need to come to terms with who he is. We both know the brothers thought their days on Arda would be numbered in mere centuries."
"So many nights have I chastised him that he pushes himself too hard, trying to catch up to his elven peers so many years his senior."
"I am guessing he muttered something about it being his obligation to use the talents that Eru has given him to the fullest in the short time gifted to him." Cirdan fingered the top book in the pile.
"Yes, his 'duty' as he put it to do all he could for others in the time allotted to him." Gil-Galad scrutinized his friend as the maid arrived with their breakfast and poured the tea. "I doubt Elrond gave you leave to peruse his manuscripts."
"We talked a long while."
"You mean you talked and attempted to cajole him into revealing his thoughts."
"He keeps his feeling hidden more so than most." Sighing, Cirdan handed Gil-Galad one of the texts. "You should read these poems. They were not at all what I expected from our serious friend. They date from before our last campaign. I think they would bring hope and purpose to many, were you able to convince him to allow them to be copied. Perhaps they could be published under a pseudonym so none could directly attribute them to him."
"Poetry?" Gil-Galad repeated in a stunned voice. "Elrond? I would have never guessed."
"If I were not so familiar with his script, I might not have believed; however, it is clearly written by one who has known much trauma and strives to create a better world. Grief is powerful and closely held but juxtaposed with a hope for the future and a deep need to seek out good. Elves might guess the author to be of this generation - one who has known constant war and strife in their childhood. But it has a unique view and ingenuity that is hard to describe. Read it. It will bring solace to your heart." Cirdan watched as Gil-Galad fingered the book's cover.
"His actions and altruism inspire those around him. I would expect no less of his manuscripts. I have lost count of their number."
"Close to twenty, shockingly enough. But my perception of his attitude towards himself makes me uneasy."
"He has always disregarded his own well-being." Gil-Galad paused momentarily. "Does he keep a journal?"
"None that I could find, and I looked carefully. There are four books not fully completed that date from the final campaign. We will be hard-pressed to convince him to eschew duties and take time to explore his own interests."
"None tell his feelings?"
"No, and that concerns me. Three texts are medically oriented. They describe surgeries and contagious illnesses of the Edain. One documents the medicinal plants used by the Avari, while another describes caves and caverns in that area."
"An elf exploring underground caves?"
"Yes, the text is quite engaging and well illustrated. However, if you read between the lines, his stay in the forest was a lonely one. Luckily, the connections to nature facilitated the healing process."
"I thought I would send him with Niphendriel and her family in the summer. Oropher wants his son's wedding to take place in the forest."
"That would be fitting. It would be good for Elrond to be in the company of friends." Cirdan watched Gil-Galad's face brighten. "You have an idea."
"We need to reestablish a center for learning. Before the war, we had only small schools for learning, and many of those teachers are now scattered across refugee camps or dead. We could assign Elrond to aid Pengolodh and Merwen in the planning process.
"Pengolodh?"
"They are aware of Elrond's talents and promise as a scholar. In fact, Elrond served as an apprentice to Merwen and wrote many of Merwen's briefings. Merwen is a consummate teacher. He will discreetly adjust Elrond's duties according to his talents and interests. Besides, the earned title of Master of Lore or Master of Healing would hold far greater appeal for Elrond. Although I find it hard to reconcile such talents with his deadly skill with the sword."
"A brilliant solution! He is distracted by the ongoing changes resulting from his choice. He will unlikely realize that he is being subtly manipulated into taking time to discover his own interests. Schedule regular trips to see Elros under the auspicious title of "ambassador," and we can satisfy his insatiable desire to help while making sure he spends precious time with his brother."
"I should be thankful that he is so diligent and hard-working." Gil-Galad laughed. "I do not doubt that he will become my most trusted councilor."
Xxxxxxxxx
Indiriel risked resting her hand on the elder King's arm in comfort. Tears streaked unabashedly down Finarfin's noble cheeks, his heartbreaking anew as his eyes took in the paintings.
"Maengwen is a master. She painted portraits of your sons in Nargothrond. I thought you and Lady Eärwen would enjoy having the originals. I've commissioned reproductions for the planned galleries of Mithlond and a personal copy for Galadriel."
Finarfin whispered reply was inaudible as he moved closer to study the depiction of his firstborn. The engraving on the frame declared 'Finrod, King of Nargothrond' and held neither his father's nor his birth name.
"Findaráto, my little son no longer but a King in his own right," Finarfin sighed. Many had greeted Finarfin with reverence, not due to his own status but simply out of respect for him as the Father of the legendary King of Nargothrond. Men spun impossible tales of their beloved 'Nom' (Wise). The artist had captured the generous yet bold spirit of his son. The clothing had the elaborate decorations of the Noldor but tempered with Sindarin influences. He was surprised to see the telltale beads that marked warrior braids and knew this was not the same elf who left Aman. No, this was a leader tempered by much trial who cared greatly for his people.
"My heart tells me that I will see him soon. I pray he will be released from Lorien after my return to Eldamar."
"It would give your daughter much solace to know at least one of her beloved brothers was among the living. Do you have word of this?"
"The Valar will not divulge such information. Yet Glorfindel's reaction when we met gives me reason to hope. He could not stop staring at me as if he had known me well before, yet I had never met the elf." As Indiriel compared the portrait of the son with the father, a smile crept across her face.
"You do look much alike. I pray that Findaráto now awaits you in the Gardens of Lorien."
"That is my hope as well." Finarfin covered Indiriel's hand with his own. "Thank you, dear child. These portraits will be treasured. They will help us understand the people my children became. That knowledge will be invaluable if we are blessed enough for the Valar to return them. Perhaps we could also commission a reproduction of Orodreth's family with Finduilas and a young Ereinion. Eärwen would also enjoy seeing a picture of the young King and Queen of the Noldor in Endor." Indiriel blushed at Finarfin's gaze. "Is this Maengwen still to be found?"
"I have already sent word to her to join us in Mithlond."
"Perhaps she could also paint a portrait of my daughter and her husband. She may also know of other artists who could render portraits of Earendil's sons. When I next greet Elwing and Earendil, I would like to gift them portraits to accompany my stories about their sons. The Valar may have forbidden them from stepping ashore on this land, but it is my hope that we may yet convince them to allow a visit to the Isle of Númenor."
Xxxxxxxxx Sewing and healing xxxxxxxxX
"Never would I have thought guards would stand alert over a sewing circle." Niphendriel hands shook slightly as she set her sewing bag down and gathered the luxurious fabric to make a tunic for her son. Her daughter's wedding gown would require one more fitting in the spring. Raising her eyes, she realized that the Queen was regarding her steadily. But before either could say anything, there was a knock at the door.
"Galadriel! How wonderful for you to join us!" Indiriel rose to embrace her husband's great-aunt. "Are you well?"
"I am recovering." Galadriel smiled and returned the hug. "And I am happy to announce other visitors to the group. Oropher's Ladies are gracing our group this afternoon." She drew out the small golden elleth who clung to her. "I have the pleasure of introducing Lady Aurmîr." The young elleth curtsied politely to the Queen while the Lady of Light glided across the room in a glamour of silk and elegance, without a hint of weakness to those who did not know her well, though she took a seat very quickly.
"Lady Aurmîr, seeing you are whole and well is such a pleasure. You are a brave elleth." Indiriel kissed Oropher's daughter's head. "Is your Naneth here?"
"And Daernaneth (Grandmother)." The elfling softly responded. Moments later, Lady Gellir and her sister entered, followed by Lady Arvethil, Oropher's Mother.
"What a wonderful surprise!" Indiriel rose to greet them. These were some of the few remaining Ladies of Elu Thingol's court. There had been some animosity at first when Gil-Galad originally sought to ally all remaining free people against Morgoth, for the survivors of Doriath and Sirion eschewed the Noldor, even though the Noldor directly responsible for the kinslaying were the Feanorians of Himring and not those who eventually pledged their loyalty to Gil-Galad in Balar and later in Mithlond. "I heard you will depart in the spring for the forests."
"The forest is our home not a Noldor city of stone." Lady Arvethil returned sharply.
"As it should be." Indiriel returned warmly without any hint of offense as she moved her hand over her heart. "And Eru willing, it will be a safe and lovely home for ages untold. Yet you are always welcome here." Lady Arvethil was taken aback by the unpretentious nature of Gil-Galad's Queen, and Gellir stepped up quickly to greet her friend.
"It is good to see you."
"Were you as troubled by dark dreams as I?" Indiriel admitted softly.
"I was as were many." Gellir still thanked Oropher for being her strength and support against the dark dreams.
"Master Noenri suggests we find a way to help the many who are struggling with the aftermath of the war, especially those who suffer from battle fatigue. They face similar difficulties, whether they settle here, on the coast or in the forest. Perhaps, together, we can develop strategies to help ease the transition and protect our people. Lucid dreams and hallucinations, as well as machinations of the enemy, the likes of which we experienced, could lead to injuries if we are not vigilant."
Xxxxxxxxx Council xxxxxxxxX
"Gildor estimates that we would need twice as many buildings to house the war orphans." Merwen reported.
"How are the buildings progressing?" Gil-Galad inquired.
"The first building should be completed by mid-spring, my Lord. I have sent Queen Indiriel's invitations to those most in need. Glirthon has begun to gather them in the tents we vacated." Tarest paused and consulted his notes. "We are still waiting to hear from the outter camps to get a firm count of orphans."
"Merwen, is there space between the current housing and the planned institutes for learning?"
"Possibly, my King. Masters Pengolodh and Noenri are drawing up plans for their specific schools. We should have their concrete suggestions by the next council meeting."
"It would seem wise to defer this discussion until that time." Gil-Galad motioned to his Senschal to continue.
"Next on the agenda is the appointment of new council members to fill the positions vacated by Celongar and Sadron." Tarest turned to his King. "Aran Gil-Galad favors the appointment of Lord Elrond Earendilion as ambassador to the Edain and as an alternate member of this council."
"The child is barely of age!" Lord Ferchíl, one of the eldest of the council members, objected heatedly. Others were also opposed.
"Lord Elrond fought bravely and has more than proven his worth as a healer."
"He has no experience, my Lord."
"We would argue that he does," Tarest interjected. "He lived and fought with the Edain contingent. They hold him in high esteem as a strategist, organizer, and Master Healer."
"How can you be sure his loyalties lie with the elves?" Ferchíl queried.
"Of that, there is no question." Gil-Galad's tone halted any arguments. "Now we would hear nominations for the other vacancies."