"Up! Up!" The toddler cried.
"Can you hold Liza for a moment? Halverad should return soon." Young Analise was now a harried Mother with a jealous toddler clinging to her leg. Their daughter was somewhat of a shock, and Selina had scolded her to be more careful this time, for it was not fitting to wean a child as early as she had needed to.
"It is not a problem." Elros smiled as he took the crying newborn from her hands. The perfect little fingers were balled up into fists. Elros rose and swayed gently as he crossed to the window. The snow had melted, though it was still bitterly cold that night. A lullaby, long thought forgotten, flowed from his lips as he recalled a dark-haired woman whose eyes spoke of love. The baby quieted and snuggled contentedly against his neck. Outside, the moon caressed the shapes of the village with its silver light. A family made their way towards the house. He recognized Mikeal and shook with quiet laughter at how his two sons pushed and punched each other whenever they thought their father was not looking. They wisely remained several steps behind their parents and Halverad. The boys were now nine and eleven, he recalled, then shivered with cold as the memory of his own tenth year hovered darkly. "The war was won. This is time to rejoice." He looked down at Liza's peaceful visage. The babe was beautiful even with her wisps of hair. A tear slipped down his cheek. A door closed. Another tear followed in a gentle cascade. Soon, he would be in Númenor with only memories of his family to cling to. He heard voices in the background but stared resolutely out the window. It was not fit that a man soon to be King should cry.
"Analise, how are you?" Erzsi, Mikeal's wife, asked as the family entered. But Analise did not reply. Had Elros turned, he would have seen her put her fingers to her lips.
"Ah, your legs are unencumbered. Our son must be sleeping." Halverad kissed her.
"Drowsing but not yet sleeping," Analise sighed. Mikeal led his sons into the kitchen, where the door's opening spread the succulent smells of burgundy stew.
"Selina, it smells heavenly," Erzsi praised. "Please let me prepare the table while you take a well-earned break from the hearth." Analise walked over to Elros, who surprisingly had been successful with the babe despite his lack of experience.
"Thank you, Elros." Analise motioned for the babe. Elros wordlessly relinquished the sleeping child to her arms.
"My treasure." Analise breathed softly as she cradled her little girl. She settled on the couch, oblivious to everything but the small delight in her arms.
"You will have a family of your own to treasure someday." Selina hugged Elros from behind.
"I lost mine. What if." He turned into the comforting hug.
"You have not lost Elrond. You will never lose him." Selina whispered. Beleford was suddenly there to embrace them both. He and his wife both worried about their friend.
"And when you meet the right woman, you will know, and you will build a life and family together in joy." Beleford predicted.
"Oh, my dear husband, I have made a romantic out of you after all." Selina kissed him.
"Come, the natives are clamoring for dinner." They led Elros into the kitchen. "Surely, next month, you could escape to Mithlond to visit Elrond for a time. You wanted to consult with King Gil-Galad anyway, a good excuse that would satisfy the council."
"I will pack him some food! Your brother does not look after himself."
Xxxxxxxx Mithlond xxxxxxxX
They were posing for a portrait, although, as he understood, it was rare even for a married couple to sit so close for an official rendering. The glow emanated from her being, wrapping her in a translucent aura. Her eyes were brighter too, though they still held a reticence that spoke of her recent ordeal. She turned to him as if she sensed his thoughts and kissed him gently.
"That is not a proper pose, my Lord and Lady."
"You hardly harped on etiquette in Nargothrond, Maengwen." Galadriel fixed her with an accusing glare.
"Ah, but here we have a young king and a new court. Perhaps it is best to set a shining example."
"Careful what you imply." Galadriel's toneless voice held an unexpected edge. But it was Celeborn who laughed unable to keep up the serious facade.
"Your brother, Elbereth bless his soul, could never sit still either." Maengwen shrugged unimpressed with her subject's ire. The Master artist had never been awed by one's position or heritage. In her opinion, one made their own way in the world regardless of their heritage. Celeborn's hand disappeared from Maengwen's view but the painter noted how the Lady shivered. "That is quite enough my Lord. Surely, such royalty can hold a simple pose for thirty more minutes."
Xxxxxxxx
Preparations were already underway to carefully transport precious artwork and books west. Those lives lived with such courage and tenacity should not be forgotten, not if he had anything to say about it. Scribes were busy copying and translating some of the histories and accounts of this age as gifts for the royal library at Tirion. None of these preparations mattered at the moment. He traced the beloved face with his eyes. His fingers dared not touch the painting that had somehow survived the fall.
"Maengwen painted it at the Havens." A gruff voice interrupted. Finarfin turned to see the Mariner observing him.
"Lord Cirdan, welcome." Finarfin greeted in a low voice.
"She has truly captured your son's character. She was commissioned to make a copy as a gift for your daughter." Cirdan waited, but Finarfin remained silent. Cirdan switched to antiquated, accented Quenya. "You would have been proud of his diplomacy and tolerance, Arafinwë. I was honored to call him a friend."
"Nowë, my father called you, ancient one. Findaráto was a grandson of your brother at the Awakening."
"We had no idea of kin or family then. All called each other brother and sister around the waters of Cuiviénen. So many of the first ones are now lost. Yet Eru willing, they will find life again on the sweet shores of the West. Ever did we celebrate the gift of new life. Adding a new babe to our midst meant a new heart to be treasured and nurtured until they evolved into an adult who led and governed with integrity and love like your son."
"My father, brother, and sister were lost to Melkor and his demons. My half-brother and his family were taken in madness to a meaningless oath. But even all that grief and loss cannot compare to the pain of losing my sons. Now, I can only bring back stories and paintings to help ease our aching hearts."
"Hold them in your heart. Mine tells me that neither you nor Arda will long be deprived of a light like Findaráto. Your other sons will be released someday as well. Live in the present and hope for the future."
"Is that how you endure?"
"It is the recipe for hope amidst adversity."
"Is there to be adversity in the West?"
"It is the naïve child who dreams that the West is free of trials and tribulations. Perhaps the Valar shield elves in the west from the likes of Morgoth and his evils. Yet free will and choice mean our enemies are often found within ourselves. Perhaps the obvious struggle of good and evil is more clear-cut in these lands, yet the gray overlap, though tricky to discern, is no less threatening." Cirdan's eyes pierced him. "Perhaps it took more courage to return to Tirion than to cross the ice."
Xxxxxxxx
"Come in." Elrond did not take his eyes off the moon, for few people outside of Ereinion or Glorfindel would call upon him this late in the evening.
"Elrond, is this the greeting I get?" Elros smiled wryly at the slight figure of his brother, who appeared ready to retire. Elrond wore a sleeping tunic and leggings, obviously crafted by Selina, for no elf should require such warmth indoors. His hair hung unbound nearly to his waist like a dark silk curtain.
"Elros!" Joy spread quickly over the pale face as Elrond raced to embrace his brother. "I thought – you said you were too busy in your letter."
"I thought to deliver you some treats for Yule. I am sorry I could not join you last month for the celebration." Elros stepped back to assess his brother for a moment. He was pleased that Elrond's eyes seemed brighter. But he could not help but frown at how the collarbone protruded. He hugged him close and whispered. "It looks like they are starving you, Brother! "
"Is food still in short supply?" Bergil deposited several bags at the door.
"Bergil! Does your father know you are off on your own!" Elrond teased and hugged Beleford's son, now full grown, although Elrond remembered the mischievous little boy who always wanted to trick him.
"I am an adult!" Bergil announced. "I have the honor of accompanying our King." Bergil straightened with false indignation that only served as further humorous fodder. The brothers roared with laughter.
"Your father trusts Elros!" Elrond laughed heartily as Bergil punched his arm.
"No, Father trusts you." Bergil pointed at Elrond.
"What! I think I have just been insulted." Elros laughed harder.
"But seriously, should my Mother send you provisions? She will be most displeased to find out how thin you are." Bergil studied the half-elf, who had been an object of fascination for Bergil and his sister Analise. They had claimed him as "their elf" when they were young children, but now Elrond seemed the younger one by appearance.
"It can be arranged." Elros pulled his brother's hair, which earned him a dark glare. "There must be some benefit to being the brother of a King." Elros exchanged a glance with Bergil, who nodded in unspoken agreement. The capable young Man had become a fast friend and advisor to Elros. It would not be long before he took over Beleford's position as one of Elros' top advisors. The fact made Elros both proud and incredibly sad.
"I assure you, there are ample lembas." Elrond sighed.
"But you are not eating them." Elros held his gaze until Elrond looked away. "Guilty as charged! But why?"
"They smell and taste -" Elrond shrugged, slightly perplexed at how to explain. "Bad memories."
"Lembas do not smell!" Elros threw up his hands.
"They do." Elrond interjected seriously, then added as an aside. "Or at least they do now."
"Some changes are harder to deal with than others." Elros squeezed his brother's shoulder comfortingly.
"An elf who can not stomach lembas!" Bergil threw up his hands in exasperation. "Well, Mother packed you some goodies – hard cheeses, butter, and cured sausage. The things in the box should keep out on your balcony in this cold."
"I brought you a sack of toasted barley – you should at least have enough for porridge for a couple of weeks. And do not let me hear of you sharing."
"You need to take better care of yourself!" Bergil interjected. "You look like a stick."
"So says wise old Bergil!"
"Can I help it if you require so much more time to mature!"
Xxxxxxxxxx
"You spoke to the prisoner today?" Gil-Galad asked as he sipped his wine.
"Yes, I found it very disconcerting. He is definitely not in his right mind. Master Noenri's diagnosis of disorder of the mind, called schizophrenia, was confirmed by Tarwatirno, although we also know no effective treatment."
"He was a respected singer from Doriath who saw the unthinkable and, as a result, wandered alone for years. It is a wonder he is not already in Mandos. It is not clear if he was ever captured by the enemy. I would not risk him escaping, given the death threats he has voiced against the sons of Earendil."
"He muttered repeats of those statements in my presence. Any court would find him guilty." Finarfin paused and raised his glass but did not drink. "Elrond is yet unaware of what transpired?"
"As far as I know."
"He is well guarded?" Finarfin watched as Gil-Galad exchanged a glance with his seneschal Tarest.
"Yes, for now." Gil-Galad sighed and rubbed his temples. "Although only because he is distracted and has not yet noticed the trailing guards."
"Ah, yes, I heard the Avari guard speak of the youth's apparent affinity for nature and his talent for slipping away unobserved. 'A wind sprite,' he called him." Finarfin laughed. "My children had the same knack for escaping their guard. But we should not place him at risk. It is clear that some elves do not know how to react to him. We can at least easily remove the threat from this ill elf. The prisoner needs medical care beyond what we are capable of. I suggest we send him west on the first set of ships. I will see to it that he is transported under guard to Lorien. Then will be no danger of him ever threatening Earendil's sons, and neither will he ever be able to threaten their parents."
"That is most gracious."
"Until then, Tarwatirno recommends a secure facility that does not resemble a prison cell as the week of solitary confinement appears to have exasperated his illness."
"From what my guards tell me, the singer was belligerent when they first incarcerated him, and they had genuine fears for any cellmate. He spent much time carefully planning the incident and was irate that it was thwarted. The full report was not released to Tarwatirno." His attention was drawn to a tall man, who was visibly searching for someone. Gil-Galad waved him over, much to Finarfin's surprise.
"Mikeal!" The King raised his glass in greeting.
"Good evening, King Gil-Galad." Mikeal bowed politely. Then he greeted King Finarfin with similar decorum.
"Elros is here?" Gil-Galad pressed Elros' most trusted advisor.
"We arrived this evening, Sire. Forgive me, I assumed he would come here." Mikeal looked around in confusion.
"Perhaps he went to greet his brother first." Aran Finarfin suggested amiably. The crowd had dwindled in the great hall where musicians still entertained. "Shall we convene a joint council tomorrow?"
"We have some requests but nothing that would require a council, my Lords."
"Oh?" Gil-Galad was intrigued as he studied the man.
"Mostly judicial issues and inquiries about how you have crafted laws to protect the rights of your most vulnerable."
"Ah, you are considering how to craft judicial precedent and set it down in writing." Finarfin smiled, understanding.
"Certainly not something to be taken without due consideration. We would be happy to provide you access to our laws and libraries. Might I also suggest a meeting with some of our top scholars – Master Pengolodh, in particular, is an expert on comparative history and law and can elucidate the laws of several eleven kingdoms. Some were more successful than others at protecting the rights of the people." Gil-Galad said.
"Have difficult issues arisen among your people?" Finarfin questioned.
"The stresses and pressures of war pushed all but the most pressing civil cases aside. Now, as we head towards more normal times," Mikeal hesitated, considering what was wise to discuss openly.
"These cases now come forward."
"Beleford's father often dealt with such issues, and many looked to him for council and guidance."
"This is the first time you and Elros have dealt with such issues." Gil-Galad realized.
"Not the first time, but charges of child abuse shocked all, especially Elros. He has been on edge for weeks since. Finally we suggested that a visit here might be in order. Beleford was worried but would not divulge anything." Mikeal paused poignantly. "Is there something I should know to better help my Lord and friend?" Gil-Galad bent forward and whispered, though he knew Finarfin would hear too.
"Neither of Earendil's sons would speak of it. But they did not have an easy time in Himring. Perhaps Elrond bore the brunt of the ill will, but there was little Elros could have done."
"Among elves?" Finarfin gasped.
"There is the rare documented case. My wife position is that no one wishes to believe such things." Gil-Galad looked across the room where his wife had somehow sensed that she was being spoken about. A small smile graced her face before she turned back to converse with Galadriel. "She has campaigned to raise the healers awareness so they may be watchful of suspicious injuries."
"Elros was not hurt!" Mikeal gasped.
"Fear not, both he and his brother escaped permanent harm and fortuitously landed in loving families."
"The elder Belegarous and his wife Ríanna." Mikeal breathed out at the realization. Gil-Galad nodded.
"They were noble, gentle-hearted folk who loved them like sons. Eru, surely, has blessed them wherever it is your people go after death."
"And they are blessed by you and Lady Indiriel."
"Is it not by our love for our family and friends that we are blessed?" Gil-Galad replied honestly. Finarfin raised his glass to that sentiment, the ancient elf humbled by the generous spirit of this young relative.
Xxxxxxxxx
"Did Elros arrive?" Gil-Galad asked the guards at the entrance to the royal wing.
"He arrived early this evening with a young squire – no," the guard paused and looked down at his sheet. "A young Edain called Bergil. The youth departed an hour ago to seek a room in the guest wing."
"Elros is still there?"
"I believe he planned to stay for the night," the guard said as he turned the page for his Lord to read more easily. It was a list that documented the comings and goings of everyone who entered the royal wing. Indiriel laid her hand on her husband's arm. He thanked the guard, and they continued on until they came to the hallway outside of Elrond's chambers.
"I will catch up with you." Gil-Galad squeezed his wife's hand.
"They are fine." She smiled and shook her head. Of course, Ereinion still worried.
He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Silently, he entered. The fire had burned low in the hearth. The room smelled distinctly of sausage, barley, and beer. Used cups and bowls were piled precariously on the corner table, although the fire burned low in the hearth. Across the room, two figures were sprawled across the large bed, each wrapped in separate woolen blankets whose color and weave suggested Edain origins. Their faces were peaceful in sleep. Gil-Galad smiled at the sight then moved to stoke the fire with some of the extra logs stacked nearby. The room had cooled off already. There was a basket of kindling, mostly leaves mixed with a crumpled assortment of parchment. The paper caught his eyes, as it was one of many things currently in short supply. He picked up one of the crudely made sheets. It was unlike the parchment that Elrond typically made. Unfolding it, he realized it was covered with unfamiliar script. Had Tarest been standing beside his King, the Seneschal would have taken a step back at the anger that exploded across Gil-Galad's face. Scrawled on the sheet was a death threat accompanied by numerous slurs about his mixed ancestry. Of course, any leader occasionally received these types of poisonous letters – a hazard of being in such prominent positions. He and Indiriel had attendants and secretaries who screened these away from normal correspondences. But the young peredhel was not a leader nor yet in any position of power.
"He should not have to deal with such things!" Thought Gil-Galad as he picked out the crumpled papers from among the leaves and tossed them into an empty basket nearby. He resolved to bring the matter to the attention of Tarest and his security advisors. He contemplated the sleeping figures for some time. Their peaceful faces catalyzed the release of his anger. Yes, he would continue to do all within his power to keep them safe. For tonight, at least there was no worry or danger.
Xxxxxxxxx Days later at the Orphanage xxxxxxxxxX
"Greetings Laeste!"
"Silsi! It is good to see you! You healers are remarkably quick. You must have barely received our request!"
"I came as soon as I got word that some of your elflings were suffering. The little ones have been through so much. Anything we can do to ease their transition is worth it. Where are they?"
"I will take you too them, but first you should change out of your healers uniform. They did not trust me enough to tell me of their injuries." Laeste led the healer to a small closet. "You can borrow something of mine. You are just a little taller than me."
"Then how did you find out? Surely, a healer had to see them to diagnose such problems."
"There is a volunteer who has healing knowledge." Laeste teased. "He has been coming in the afternoons and is working hard to make the elflings smile and play. He did not want to risk scaring them by donning the persona of a healer."
"Who?" Silsi was intrigued.
"You must play along." She handed the healer a colorful tunic.
"A bit garish? No?" Silsi rolled her eyes.
"Nonsense, it makes the little ones smile. Ask them which color they like best. You can have them point to their choice." Laeste advised as she led the healer towards the courtyard. Soft laughter tinkled in the dusk. The dinner bell would ring soon but a group of small elflings gathered around a dark, crouching figure. Silsi drew in a deep breath in surprise as the dim light glistened on the bubbles in the air on on the ground surrounding the group. Some of the elflings blew through short tubes – dried bamboo she hazard to guess. Others waved sticks with circular figures on the end. All were cheering, overjoyed at the bubbles that glide off their implements like magic. Screeches and shrieks of delight accompanied a wild frenzy of hands attempting to clap away the bubbles.
"There," Laeste pointed out a seated elfling who was tapping bubbles nearby with his toes. The elfling's pale lips curved slightly, but the arm wrapped gingerly around his torso suggested he was in pain. She slipped a wrapped toffee into the healer's hand as she warned her to "tread carefully for he has yet to trust enough to tell anyone his name." Silsi nodded and crossed over to the group. The flashing silver eyes of the adult elf in the center caught her off guard, and the young musical voice announced her.
"Look, my friend Silsi has joined us. Catch Silsi." The teasing voice accompanied the whoosh of the small thrown object. She caught the tube. "Blow on the dry end."
She sat near the quiet elfling but did not look at him directly. Instead, she pretended to puzzle over the object in her hand. Her inaction drew his attention.
"Do you know how?" She whispered. The elfling nodded but did not speak. She curled her hand around the tube to hide it from view and passed it to the child as she shook his hand. "Can you show me?" Slowly, the timid elfling took the reed and blew. A cascade of bubbles emerged from the end. A small smile erupted from the thin lips as the others cheered. A little girl carefully carried a shallow plate filled with a clear liquid.
"Opps!" She cried as some trickled off the edge as she squatted to place the plate before them. The elfling dipped the end of the reed into the plate and blew again. Silsi laughed with the others and gently stroked the youth's arm. He flinched away at first but gradually allowed the contact. Bubbles floated like snow around them. The dinner bell broke the spell. The elflings cheered and threw their bubble wands to the center. No one wanted to miss a bite of the precious meal. Her young patient stood with a groan.
"What is your name Penneth?" She asked as she rose. The azure eyes spoke volumes but not a peep came from the dry lips. "I can see you are in pain. I am a healer. May I treat you?" The elfling gasped in fear.
"Penneth, would you like a new name? We often have more than one." Elrond sat low so that he looked upward at the frightened boy. A nod came in response. "Well, then I have to hear the song of your spirit." Elrond held his hands up and closed his eyes.
"A song?" The elfling stuttered breathlessly but took his hands. Silsi watched in silence.
"I name you Celulach." The elfling's eyes grew wide. "For your spirit never gave up even against adversity. Do you approve?" Again, the little head nodded.
"My friend Silsi is a healer. She can help you. She helped me." Elrond crossed his hand over his heart. Frightened eyes grew wide again, and the boy darted off to join the others in line for dinner.
"I sensed weak bones and several fractures." Silsilalda divulged.
"That is what I sensed, too. I think it is from malnutrition and lack of sunlight. His friend says he was found alone in the woods."
"Malnutrition? Rickets is common among the Edain but rarely observed among the Eldar."
"Come, you will have to win his trust in order to examine him more thoroughly. Perhaps it would be easier won by treating some of the other ill elflings."
"There are more?"
"They have lost too much." Elrond paused, remembering situations where he had also hidden his injuries. "They are unwilling to risk what little they now have by drawing attention to themselves."
"Well, come then, I have little ones to meet. Perhaps I should bring kittens with me next time."
"Are they descendants of Selig?" He had fond memories of Laeste's regal white cat.
"Why yes, they are, though Selig's descendants are no one's pets. Perhaps if you are good, one of the kittens might choose you as a pet." She teased as she grasped Elrond's arm. "This way, my dear."
Notes:
Finarfin's full siblings were Fingolfin, Findis, and Irimë. Their older half-brother Fëanor likely needs no introduction.