"Lord Oropher and his sons." The Herald announced.
"We are honored by the request to participate in the Council." Oropher bowed low with his hand extended over his heart. "Hantanye Herutaurë." The Avari King and his council nodded their acceptance of the greeting. Then Oropher led his family from the center of the natural amphitheater to the seats prepared for them. Slowly, a score of other Sindar houses were announced, and similarly they stepped forward to thank the ancient forest lord for the honor of attending the council. Their similar lilting melodic accents, more similar to the Avari than the faster more clipped tones of the Noldor's Sindarin, were poignant reminders of their mutual connections. Thranduil and his brother were seated behind Oropher, the head of their house. Thranduil made note of those present. The refugees from the lands of Doriath and Sirion that were represented here all had disputes with Amdir, another of the Lords of Doriath. Oropher's cousin Celeborn had a much smaller following, given the contention that had surrounded his choice of a bride from the house of Finwë. Galadriel was a singularly polarizing figure for the survivors of Doriath, though none could deny that her sway over the kinslayers had helped to save lives. Thranduil surveyed those present. Many hailed from Doriath and its surrounding farmlands. He believed that Taurangol had been one of the diplomats from Thingol's court while Maluithil was often a messenger between Doriath and the Silvan tribes.
"Lord Alagnen and Lady Celliel!" The herald announced what Thranduil thought was the final house of invited Sindar. The couple made their obeisance to the Herutaurë and took their places.
"There is an open seat next to Queen." Orodiun whispered to his older brother. Thranduil nodded his acknowledgement of the empty seat between Queen Hwelanlai and Princess Lillanlai. Then looked with interest at the lone and slightly bewildered looking elf entered the clearing. "Elrond," Orodiun gasped. The herald pointed the new comer to the center of the amphitheatre then announced in a clear, loud voice.
"Lord Elrond Eärendilion." Elrond made his way to the center to address the Lord of the Forest as was customary. All were surprised when the Herutaurë rose as Elrond made his way through the gathered crowd.
"We thank the Valar for the blessing that one of Elu's line will remain among us. In remembrance of my dear brother from the shores of Cuiviénen, we adopt thee Elrond Peredhel into our family and bid our people and our friends treat him accordingly." The forest lord announced. The word 'Peredhel' was accented with some reverence. Thranduil and his brother exchanged looks of happy surprise. This was the second claim on their friend and would further serve to help keep him safe. Both were flabbergasted when Elrond's reply came in the sweetly accented Sindarin of Doriath for Elrond had always adopted Noldor accents in his speech. Elrond bowed with his hand over his heart and promised to serve and be of service to the Herutaurë and the Avari. The simple words of the ancient oath clearly conveyed that this descendant of Elu sought not to rule.
"We welcome your gift of service and invite you to sit among us as family." The Herutaurë was obviously pleased by the young elf's words. The Queen motioned to Elrond to sit beside them. Thranduil blinked and focused on his friend, seated next to the royal couple, but the Peredhel seemed to fade into the background. Then all present were debating which groups would explore the new lands now made safe by the ending of the war and the force that Eonwë led into the bowls of the earth to find the remnants of Morgoth's minions.
Xxxxxxxxx Approaching the shores of Aman xxxxxxxxX
They had sailed west past a smoking island that the Valar had erected from beneath the sea. Finarfin wondered if some of the mass might have been salvaged from Beleriand, a land that had been swept beneath the sea or perhaps this was fashioned from lava from deep under the crust. His lore masters had postulated that mass could not be created or destroyed only changed in form. His head ached, and he shook it slowly. Some things were beyond his comprehension. From the look of things, it would be yen before the land cooled and trees grew, although he had heard that the Valar had ways to accelerate the process. It was hard to fathom that this uninviting smoldering mass would be transformed in less than twenty years to a lush oasis for the second born. One thing was certain. This new land of the Edain was much closer to the Undying lands. Something in his heart twisted in worry. For all the turmoil in his homeland, they had never had the second born so near. What this might bode for the future? He wondered. Those that he had left behind in the east thought of the undying lands as 'free from evil'. Yet he knew this meant from 'evil' other than what might be found in an elven heart.
"Have you broken your fast, Sire?" His Seneschal joined him at the rail. They stared silently contemplating the lands of Aman that were rising on the horizon. The ship was entering the great bay of Eldamar.
"We should be docking today." Finarfin said absently.
"By this evening at the latest, but surely some food before then would be in order? Besides, I expect we will need to meet with Aran Olwë before setting out for Tirion. They might not recognize the lean warriors who now return." Manveru looked at him expectantly.
"I thank you for your concern. But I have little appetite. Perhaps it will return once we are sipping wine at Olwë's table." Weeks ago he had bid his last remaining child goodbye before stepping onto this ship. Time seemed somehow suspended. "Galadriel!" He smiled at his daughter's chosen name. The war had been hard on them all, but the outcome was to be celebrated. At least Morgoth had been overthrown, and many trapped elven souls were released from their bondage. Those who remained in the outer lands were now free to chart their own destinies instead of existing in constant peril.
The spires of Avallónë rose in front of them as they approached the bustling harbor of Tol Eressëa. However, it was a small harbor compared to the bay of Eldamar, where the isle sat. Several of their ships turned to dock in Tol Eressëa's port, but Finarfin's captain charted a direct course towards the Swan Harbor. Finarfin desperately wished to find his beloved Eärwen waiting for him. He had left his Queen in Tirion to rule the council in his absence. But surely, she would have received word and journeyed to her parents' home in anticipation of his return? Time slowed as the ship broached the entrance of the great harbor. He heard the crew shouting as they relayed orders to the elf high on the mast, who translated the words into flags to signal the harbormaster. His eyes climbed upwards to watch the row of flags, the pictorial language sailors used to communicate ship to ship. His device was on the top, flapping in the wind. The ship drew ever nearer to the royal dock.
He spotted Eärwen's jewel-like, silver hair from quite a distance. Soon, he would sweep his beloved Swan-maiden into his arms and kiss her soundly. Sorrowfully, all he had to offer her was himself, his love. He had no children or grandchildren to bring her, only pictures and stories. It would have to suffice. As they drew closer, he noted that many guards were surrounding her. This puzzled him. Eärwen was also beloved Princess of Alqualondë and was surely safe among her people. She stood close to two others. An elleth with shimmering dark hair that floated like a mist around her and one with golden hair who stood so close that it could only be her spouse. The Ellon looked up as if he sensed the far-off scrutiny. A blinding sparkle momentarily obscured Finarfin's view. "A Silmaril." He realized then that this couple was Elwing and Eärendil. Little wonder that guards hovered nearby! He had only met the Peredhil twice and had not divulged the furious debates that swirled about Idril and Tuor's arrival. None knew Eärendil's parents' current whereabouts, but he suspected Idril Celebrindal and her husband resided at an estate close to Lorien. Elwing and Eärendil retreated far to the north, where it was rumored they were establishing a settlement for the survivors of Gondolin and Sirion. Perhaps they, even as he, prayed for the day when their loved ones were released from Mandos' halls.
"If only our Findaráto were to be restored to us." Finarfin prayed. "Or as Finrod Felagund come into his own. Learning to know him again after all his deeds in the east would be a blessing." Something stirred in his heart. He felt strength and love flow from Eärwen, and looking up, he could see her smile. There was something else - a thin thread. "It will not be long until we see our Findaráto again."
"It is strange to answer too many names, Aran Arafinwë." Finarfin startled at his Seneschal's voice. Of course, his steadfast supporter had not left his side.
"Finarfin has a pleasing ring to it." He smiled slightly. Somehow, he knew that his son would always prefer Finrod to Findaráto. He had found the Sindarin version of his own name somewhat liberating, as few people in the east knew his Atar. Here, he would return to his existence as Arafinwë, King of the Noldor in Aman. The Noldor had debts to pay because of their guilt in the kinslaying. In the outer lands, he was Finarfin, a King whom the people of the east equated with his great-grandson Gil-Galad. He smiled at the thought. The young King had an impressive flair for diplomacy, perhaps due to the necessity of dealing with such disparate factions.
"Though I believe that Lady Indis prefers Ingalaurë." Manveru's lips curled in mirth. Arafinwë laughed.
"Yes, she alone calls me that. I would be surprised to be called anything other than Arafinwë ….. to my face." He lifted an eyebrow, and Manveru kept his face carefully blank. But his voice held sarcasm.
"Nothing gets by you, Sire." Manveru knew the heated discussions that sometimes raged over the Arafinwë's decisions.
"We have fought battles for Kin in the outer land, but our own political battles lie ahead." He was weary of battle, yet perhaps even greater trials lay ahead. For they escorted refugees west, refuges that included brave but injured warriors, lost souls, freed thralls, and even the errant criminal. He cringed at the thought of explaining the presence of the schizophrenic singer to the Peredhil. Tarwatirno, his chief healer, was aboard one of the ships transporting the injured. All those ships should now be docking in Tol Eressëa. This influx of refugees would ultimately push the governments of Aman to finally discuss unpleasant issues long left unspoken. Absently, he remembered the joy and anticipation of his dearest daughter and her husband. They looked forward to forging their own future in a land purged of Morgoth. "Aman also faces change." He realized, "as well a new future."
"Do we not deserve time to recover before delving into those hot-button issues?"
"It is not a question of what we deserve."
Xxxxxxxxx Harlond on the Gulf of Lhûn xxxxxxxX
"This village seems to be an amalgam of cultures," Elros noted as they approached the longhouse at the center. Beleford and he were surveying the people who had settled in and around the Gulf of Lhûn. Accompanying them were Elros' guards. Their group of twenty warriors would look daunting to most village dwellers.
"Halt here while Beleford, Riand, and I call on the village leaders." Elros dismounted. His two adopted brothers took their places by his side. Riand had come to terms with his disability, and though he would never be able to use his one hand, he had a new purpose as one of Elros' advisors. "We do not want to appear too intimidating." They greeted people as they made their way to the longhouse. In front, two muscular men regarded them seriously. The first had shoulder-length black hair and hard grey solemn eyes. They stood nearly as tall as Elros and appeared to be irritated.
"What business have you here?" The first barked gruffly. The ending of each word was bitten off slightly.
"We only seek to establish contact and trade with all the people of the gulf." Elros extended his hand in a traditional greeting. "I am Elros and this is Beleford and Riand. We are all survivors and have much in common."
"Not leaders in common." The second stated angrily. But his companion admonished him.
"We must talk to find out their motives. I am Bransdin, leader of this village, and this is Elphir." They paused to shake hands. "If your warriors do not seek to overthrow us, you may enter our house for negotiations."
"We do not seek to take your freedom or to rule your people," Elros responded.
"Do you promise our safety and release if we accept and accompany you inside," Beleford questioned. He was responsible for Elros' safety.
"You have my word of honor." Bransdin moved his hand over his heart and muttered something that Elros could not understand, though assumed was an oath. They entered together to partake of a traditional shared drink, signifying peace between them.
Xxxxxxxxx Guest suite in the Royal wing of Olwë's palace xxxxxxxxX
"With your permission, Aran Arafinwë." The healer paused but did not wait for his patient to agree. Then he proceeded to unbutton the tunic and mumbled other instructions. The shirt was a soft sea green that Olwë's family favored.
Finarfin tried to concentrate on the healer's words. "Arafinwë," he considered his father name numbly. "When would he feel like himself again?" The healer was looking at him expectantly. "Had he missed some question?" He returned the gaze stoically but only had eyes for his wife, who was currently beyond the open door sipping wine with her father. It was an interminable hour of being poked and prodded by the healer. Once in a while, he saw a flash of her silver hair and bright smile.
"Breath in and hold." The healer ordered. He obeyed numbly.
"Did he not think that Tarwatirno, his chief healer, was competent?" Arafinwë thought, but he hid his annoyance and wisely held his tongue. "No, it was assumed that everyone who had traveled to the outer lands was tainted unless proven otherwise." He let his thoughts slide outwards to catch the ebb and flow of the tide. Anger, annoyance, and impatience flowed away from him, replaced by an inner peace.
"Breath out." The healer made some notes. "I think that is enough."
"Is he well?" Eärwen suddenly appeared at his side, helping him into his shirt. He could not hold back his joyous smile and the warmth that flowed into him at her touch. "I have never seen you so thin," she whispered as she kissed his cheek.
"Apart from being besotted." Olwë teased, though he took much comfort in this unguarded glimpse of the depth of the love between his daughter and son-in-law.
"Nothing that rest and a balanced diet will not slowly restore." Olwë's chief healer pronounced. "I would also suggest a draught to promote the clearing of your lungs and some breathing exercises. Have all those who are now returning been exposed to smoke and soot?"
"Morgoth sent his Dragons during our siege of Thangorodrim," Arafinwë replied.
"Dragons?" Eärwen was unfamiliar with the term, but Olwë had been briefed on the war.
"Eonwë and his host met the first ones on the ground. Some were massive, easily the size of the small schooners, but walked on the ground and spewed fire from their mouths. The most terrible were the winged behemoths that sent fire down from above us. Eärendil fought them from the Vingilot with the Eagles as his allies. The air battle led to many injuries on the ground. But one could not help but stare at the might of Ancalagon the Black who was finally slain by Eärendil."
"Did many suffer from smoke inhalation?" The healer questioned.
"We treated those with burns and life-threatening injuries first. Of smoke inhalation, I do not know." Arafinwë admitted. His wife looked concerned, and he decided not to mention that their daughter's husband was one of many to suffer burns from the fires from above. After all, Celeborn had healed and been reunited with their daughter.
"Your case is mild, with difficulty breathing deeply. More serious symptoms could include shortness of breath, chronic coughing, headaches."
"I can send a message to Master Tarwatirno." Arafinwë began.
"I will send it once you have eaten and taken some rest." Eärwen's voice filled with concern.
"I will assume many returnees have such symptoms and widely distribute the draught and directions to my healers."
"Let it be so." Olwë nodded. The healer bowed in acknowledgment. Olwë took a moment to study the tall figure before him. The slimmer, more muscular physique told him that his son-in-law had indeed participated in arduous battles. While he sensed weariness, he could feel the steel and determination that marked Arafinwë as the leader of the Noldor. Eärwen would soon need to brief her husband on the state of Tirion, and the needs of his people would push concerns over his own recovery far from his mind. "Surely, you can rest at least a fortnight here and recover your strength before undertaking the journey home."
"Mirwë and Amme await us. Not to mention Nénu and Falmar." Eärwen smiled. Her brother and sister would instinctively know to keep the conversation light and entertaining. Her husband needed rest. For she and Arafinwë were still alone in tending to the needs and rule of the Noldor. These years had given her a new appreciation for the pressures of leadership. She vowed not to leave the burden to Arafinwë alone.
Xxxxxxx The Avari Camp xxxxxxX
Thranduil waited until Elrond finished his warm-up. The Peredhel seemed completely engrossed in his forms and likely did not notice who was near.
"Elrond, would you like a partner to spar?" He offered a blunt training sword to his friend.
"Thranduil! It is nice to see you." Elrond sheathed the glimmering Hadhafang and exchanged his sword for Thranduil's offering.
"I have not seen you train since we arrived here," Thranduil commented, belatedly realizing that he had not spent time with his friend since their journey here.
"I was under strict orders to rest," Elrond grinned. Perhaps you believe that gives you the advantage." Thranduil laughed and then dove forward in an attempt to catch the Peredhel off guard. Elrond parried the blow easily. They battled back and forth in the morning light. They were well-matched in skill. Elrond was a hair quicker, but Thranduil was slightly stronger.
"I thought your chosen field was healing," Thranduil called using the accented Sindarin of his long-departed Grandfather as they bowed to one another.
"Few of us may choose what to do." Elrond returned in the matching accent.
"I did not know you spoke as one descended from Doriath."
"It was our tongue in our first life. I do not remember meeting you at Sirion."
"I met you and your brother, but you were little tikes barely as tall as my knee. It would have been easier for you to continue to use your mother tongue." Thranduil thought that Elrond's momentary hesitation spoke volumes.
"We were … strongly encouraged not to draw further attention to ourselves."
Elrond shrug was not as nonchalant as he intended. "Mimicking the cadence and accent of those in Himring was important to our survival." It was as close to speaking of Himring that Thranduil had ever heard.
"They say love grew between you and the kinslayers." Thranduil repeated the oft-shared gossip.
"And Maglor." Elrond corrected and then admitted. "I would not have survived without his care."
"They butchered our people at Sirion."
"And nearly us as well," Elrond admitted. "But it is not in our power to change the past only to endeavor to forge a better future."
"That future starts soon. There is word that a party from Mithlond is approaching. Could it be Cirulian and Durgin coming to escort you back? I hear you will be the youngest ever appointed to a Noldor King's council."
"I would appreciate it if you told them I had been practicing and sparring periodically," Elrond said, pointedly ignoring the last comment.
"Periodically is a stretch." Thranduil laughed. "You did wait until the very last minute."
"The healers forbid me from doing anything remotely strenuous." Elrond retorted cheekily.
Xxxxxxxxx Olwë's palace xxxxxxxxX
The shell room was originally a children's playroom positioned in the middle of the royal wing of the palace. But the children had since grown, and now it was fitted with comfortable chairs and game tables.
"They have grown into fine young," Arafinwë paused to grasp the correct word and ultimately borrowed a Sindarin word, "people. Elros will make an excellent King of Men. He is confident, compassionate, and wise beyond his years." Elwing's silver eyes were brimming with tears, and Eärendil was staring at the picture with pride tempered by sadness. He would wait until after dinner to give them the letters their sons had written.
"The Valar banned us from returning." Tears leaked down the Lady's porcelain cheek. Arafinwë knew that happiness to see this image of their grown sons warred with sadness at being parted from them.
"He is preparing his people to sail for a new land much closer to ours. I know not if the powers will allow elves to visit those new lands, but perhaps they would relent and allow you time with one of your sons. Ulmo is a friend of your family. So at the very least, perhaps you could meet on the open ocean."
"We can only hope." Eärendil grasped his wife's shoulders.
"These Peredhil were far too young." He reflected as he carefully gauged their reactions. They had had children when they were only thirty. Perhaps Eärendil had been an adult then, but as he looked at Elwing, he recognized the unusual currents that swirled about her. Yes, Eärendil was part elf and part man, but Elwing had the heritage of the fays - of the Maiar. "Had she suffered like the young twins? Did she keep this side of herself secret, fearing others' reactions?" He wondered but asked less dangerous questions aloud. "How many elves have joined your settlement in the North? Is its location secure?"
"We have settled on the name Gwaelindë, for the wind carries tunes from the north," Elwing whispered as she brushed the tears from her cheek. Eärendil cleared his throat and continued for her.
"We number less than a hundred, but together, we are establishing a caring community."
"Only elves or do Maiar visit?" He looked at Elwing expectantly. When she did not comment, he confided. "Your sons' unusual heritage was woken by the presence of the Maiar."
"Are they suffering?" Elwing worried. Eärendil appeared perplexed.
"Did you suffer?" Eärendil and Arafinwë spoke simultaneously. Impossibly bright silver eyes glisten with tears, but Elwing remained silent.
"I am told that Uinen and Ossë aided Elros. He will travel to Númenor with Eonwë, so Maiar will be near. I understand that the Maiar communicate with songs beyond our hearing that their spirits thrive on their connections to others of their kind." Elwing sat seemingly impassive, but her eyes told a different story. They were filled with emotion. Eärendil's surprised expression gave Arafinwë pause and moved to sit directly across from Elwing. "Your heritage started to awake in Sirion. My guess is this happened after your husband set sail." Her head nodded slightly in acknowledgment. He took it as a signal to continue. "Perhaps Uinen and Ossë's songs combined with those of the gulls stirred your spirit in the lonely time that your spouse was far away. It is said that Lúthien could cloak or shift her shape. When did you know that you could do so as well?"
"Caring for energetic twins was tiring," Elwing admitted quietly. When they were asleep and I was alone in my room, I used to reach out to him in my thoughts. I longed to see my husband. The birds spoke to me about his progress and invited me to join them. At first, I thought I only did this in my thoughts, but later…." She trailed off as if she felt this trait was shameful. Eärendil bent to kiss her brow.
"It is a part of you. I love all of you." He whispered, but his wife sat still. The entrance of Eärwen, her Amme, and her sister Mirwë interrupted them.
"Your sons?" Eärwen exclaimed as she saw the painting. "What handsome ellon!" The ellyth gently displaced Arafinwë and Eärendil from beside the noticeably unsettled Elwing. Eärwen took Elwing's hand as she sat down next to her. Soon, they had Elwing sharing memories of the twins' antics as toddlers.
Arafinwë coaxed Eärendil out onto the terrace. The breathtaking view of the ocean also advantageously provided concealing music of the waves.
"My sons have inherited some of these traits?"
"They hear the Maiar songs," Arafinwë confirmed and added. "They both have healing talents, but Elrond has been training and is already a gifted healer."
"Shape-shifting?" Eärendil found this new information unsettling. It was much easier to think of Elwing's ability as having been bestowed by the Valar in her time of need.
"No, Ereinion has seen no signs of that, although your sons share a special bond and can speak mind-to-mind over great distances."
"Ereinion will take care of them?"
"For as long as they are in his care. Elros will sail with his people in but a score of years. But I think Elrond will choose to remain with Ereinion. They are the only Peredhil left, and unfortunately, there are those that look upon them with disdain."
"They are Turgon's as well as Elu's heirs!" Eärendil horror was evident.
"Few are left from those kingdoms." Arafinwë reminded him gently. "You are establishing a fortified stronghold in the north to keep your people safe."
"Yes, although we do not emphasize it as a stronghold."
"I think the Maiar have been helping you keep your settlement deliberately hidden from the rest of Aman. I fear we have likely brought some who do not hold your two houses so dear." Arafinwë drew a deep breath and plunged into the story of the deranged singer from Doriath who had tried to harm Elrond. "He is mentally ill, but…"
"My son? He was not harmed?"
"Ereinion's guards intercepted Daeron before anything happened. It was decided to send him west for healing and judgment."
"He is here?"
"On Tol Eressëa," Arafinwë confirmed. "He is well guarded, but our healers have never treated such a condition. Thus, we will request that he be sent to Lorien. There are a handful of survivors from Himring there as well. All are under guard. I believe they should be remitted to Tirion, but these issues must be raised with the Teleri first."
"There are those in Aman who are adamantly against the presence of Peredhil. Our settlement is limited to elves loyal to us." Eärendil paused. "But given my duties to the Valar, I travel often."
"You have assigned guards to Elwing."
"They must be discrete. She suffered through not one but two attacks that destroyed her homes and decimated her people. I would do everything in my power to keep her safe."
"Time will bring acceptance of your presence and ease the need for extra security measures."
"Time will also bring back more of our old friends, and maybe one day, at least Elrond will join us."
"One day, when you and Elwing finally feel safe and secure, you could contemplate enlarging your family."
"It will take some time before that happens." Eärendil scoffed.
"But time is something we have."
Xxxxxxx Mithlond xxxxxxxX
"Surely, I can find my way from the stables to the house unaccompanied," Elrond complained. His guard had given him little privacy over their trip home.
"Of course, my Lord." Durgin held the overprotective Cirulian by the arm then gave a sweeping bow.
"I am in your dept Durgin." Elrond smiled.
"I will remember that." The guard shouted cheerfully. Elrond had barely left the stables when one of Gil-Galad's councilors intercepted him.
"Welcome back Elrond. You look better." Merwen carried several large tomes and looked to be in a hurry.
"Thank you, Merwen. You look well yourself. Has it been an eventful summer?"
"Busy, but it is to be expected. We are building a city." Merwen paused. "It will be nice to have your energy and input. The King plans to call on you later. I would clean up if I were you."
"Thank you for your advice." Elrond shook hands with his old mentor, then lifted his pack and walked to the palace.
"Lord Elrond." The guards on duty saluted him. Elrond returned their greeting but was somewhat bemused by the formal address. "With any luck, the title would be forgotten soon." He hoped. He was happy to find his bathing room had been completed during his absence. The sunken tub reminded him of his original room in old Mithlond. Someone must have relayed news of his arrival because the tub was already filled with warm water. He wasted no time peeling off his grubby travel clothes and slipping into the welcome bath. The water grew cold before he could drag himself from that comfortable setting. He pulled on clean underclothes and leggings and then further worked at towel-drying his hair. He would need at least a formal tunic to go to dinner. He moved to the bedroom to check for something suitable in the wardrobe.
"Ereinion!" Elrond gasped in surprise and moved to adjust the towel. His face flamed with embarrassment.
"I did send word that I would call on you." Gil-Galad merely laughed and watched in amusement as Elrond hurried to pull on a shirt. "You do look much better. Herutaurë sent us a note about your progress in the middle of the summer."
"Am I to always be under such scrutiny?" Elrond complained.
"I pushed you into accepting too much responsibility at a tender age. At least allow me to remedy that, however, slightly."
"It was out of necessity. The war took too many choices from us."
"That may be true. But I would not have conscripted an elf your age into service."
"But I am a Peredhel."
"Ah, but the powers that be have declared you of elven kind. I realize that I have always thought of you as such." Gil-Galad paused but was not surprised when Elrond did not add anything to the statement. He pushed a basket containing some papers toward Elrond. "You have letters. Why not see who has been writing you?" He watched Elrond flinch, then draw a deep breath to take the basket. Elros' seal was clearly recognizable, but some of the others without clear, identifiable seals had been opened.
"Why?" Elrond held up one of those letters.
"Why did you not tell us that you were receiving threatening letters? Surely, it is important for your security to let the guards and my Seneschal know." Gil-Galad watched Elrond's reactions closely. Then he stood to pull Elrond into his arms.
"Elrond, your safety is very important to many people, not the least of which include Elros and myself." Ereinion was having none of Elrond's self-deprecating responses. "I want you to promise me that you will immediately alert the guards should threats in any form surface. Elros is well protected, and so am I. We can only protect you if you are an active part of this process. That means you will not be slipping away from your personal guard, especially in the coming years as we struggle to rebuild our culture and our city." Elrond blinked, too astonished to respond immediately.
"I am making this an order as your King." Ereinion stepped back. His voice carried all the authority of his position.
"I promise my King." Elrond bowed with his hand over his heart.
"That is better. I do not want anything to happen to my youngest but most trusted councilor. In the coming months, you and Merwen will be very busy organizing our houses of learning. I also promised Elros that you would spend next summer with him. Does that sound appealing?"
"Yes, my King." Elrond smiled at being assigned tasks he would have readily volunteered to do.
"I have had enough of King duties today." Ereinion laughed and clapped Elrond on the back. "Indiriel awaits us for the evening meal, and you could stand to eat some extra meals."
Xxxxxxxxx Harlond on the Gulf of Lhûn xxxxxxxX
"Will all our people be required to sail?" Elphir asked Elros.
"Eonwë says we are invited to sail soon for lush lands that the Valar are preparing for us. But their definition of soon is nearly twenty years from now." Elros paused. "Do you think that many will prefer to remain here?"
"Twenty years is a whole generation of our people. We will have established new lives here." Bransdin reasoned.
"Why should we be forced from our lands!" Elphir exclaimed, his strange accent again noticeable.
"It is your choice. Already, there are eight new villages lining the Gulf Coast. I think many will choose to sail. But others will remain." Elros was hard-pressed to keep a calm voice and an amiable demeanor during the meal. It seemed as if these people sought to antagonize them. He had recognized some of their language and saw an opening to voice his curiosity. "Are some of your people from the House of Haladin?"
"What difference does that make to you?" Bransdin nearly growled.
"I learned some of the Haladin tongue when I was young. It is a rich and expressive language."
"And sadly, a dying tongue." Elphir lamented.
"The peoples of men share a common heritage, though language has held us apart in the past. It may be that more of your people adopt our tongue or that our languages are beginning to merge and evolve. I know many stems that come from Haladin words." The irate leader seemed mollified by Elros' comments.
"Still, why should beings other than men decide who will rule us?"
"I will be the last to hoard my will over your people. However, those who choose to sail with us will need to accept our government. But if you choose to remain in these lands, you are free to develop your own leadership. It will be necessary for you to live peacefully and trade with the elves."
"And trade with your people?"
"Once we know how far away these new lands are, we can evaluate the possibility and logistics of such trade routes."
"Our people would feel more at ease trading with men versus those mystifying elves." Elphir shivered, his fear belied an untold story.
"One must take advantage of opportunities wherever they lie. We now have a future to forge for ourselves." Riand raised his glass in toast. Elros was heartened that his dear friend had found a purpose even as he realized that the people of this village noted and honored his war injury, accepting it as a badge of bravery.
"Truer words were never spoken." Elros raised his own glass in toast. "To the future!"