Might I Behold the Weaver Loom and Needle
Summary:
Elrond, his sons, and Erestor speak to Minastauriel in the healing wards. Minastauriel begins to learn how to use her Foresight. The Lord of the Valley is charmed whilst his chief counsellor remains highly suspicious.
Notes:
Minastauriel: Ahh - I'm slowly coming to terms with my circumstances, but I need more time. It would be unrealistic for me to be hurrying about doing anything so soon. Heehee
Me: But it's been more than 40,000 words! How much more do you need?
Minastauriel :3 : Heehee, more 3 Distract them Glorfindel or something; I'm chilling in the healing wards re-learnng how to speak.
Me: Sobs
Minastauriel: A princess goes at her own pace, my plot will be ready when I am ready
Me: Sobs harder.
3 Story has a slow start as you will have guessed, but next few chapters will move quicker. You'll also be seeing a few familair characters in ~ 6 chapters? Depends how I cut up my master copy whilst editting/proof reading.
Glossary at the end
Please DO NOT add to any private collections
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
A piercingly bright light shone out of the woman's eyes in a manner very, very different to how the Light of the Trees had once, many years ago, shined in Erestor's own eyes. The lilac-tinged light cast an ethereal glow over the healing wards private chamber. The pale furnishing and cream sheets reflected the light in scattered directions, making the room appear dazzling and otherworldly.
Lurlosel struggled to restrain the woman's hands, away from where they were trying to reach her face where several angry scratches marred her skin, crossing over some existing scabs. Tatharon immediately jumped into action, immobilising the woman's arms, as firm as he could be without bruising her.
Some of the scratched were perilously close to the edges of the woman's eyelids. As if she had been pulled away just in time to prevent her from… clawing her eyes out. Lurlosel must have acted very fast.
"No, no. It hurts – no! Pleasenonono" A sudden screeched mixture of Sindarin and Quenya left the woman's mouth as she shook her head and curled into herself. The other members of the room frantically looked between themselves. Elrond – wary of using his own voice to send her to sleep – began opening the window, wondering how fast Lindir could get to the room if he called for him out across the courtyard, whilst Erestor took a more straightforward approach. He had taken no more than a handful of steps towards the cabinet where they stored sleeping agents –of the mind that dealing with a drugged woman would be easier than one intent of maiming herself - when suddenly there was a tense pause, a held breath and without further warning or prompt, the woman stopped screaming, and moving, entirely.
The light faded to a less piercing intensity but remained as a glowing film over the woman's eyes for several long moments, until it abruptly disappeared as if it had never been there at all. The woman panted with an edge of a pained whine, eyes welling up as she shook and shivered.
Surely not? That was her Foresight? Erestor had no such Sight himself, but he had never heard of foreknowledge being conveyed in such dramatic manner. Foresight never appeared so violently, he was sure of that, whether it came in Eldar or Edain.
Some of the twisted shrieks Erestor had heard urks made when they were... questioned, in millennia past, had been less horrific than her final cry. His eyes shut as he recalled the pain her screech had echoed, checking for any falsehood or thespianism in her cries. Perhaps such a callous line of thinking left a bitter taste in his mouth. Perhaps many other elves in his position and of his history would have done the same.
His Lord did no such thing, remaining the pillar of compassion as he had ever done, despite the lack of compassion history had shown him in turn. He sat gently on the edge of the woman's bed, offering his hand for her to take. She grabbed it like a lifeline, gulping as she visibly held back tears, for which Erestor was grateful.
"Your Foresight pains you?" Elrond asked, cutting through the tense silence, voice measured and gentle whilst expertly avoiding of any hint of condescension. The woman drew a shuddering breath, in and out, quickly wiping away a few stray tears when they escaped.
She was indeed small; delicate looking, though not quite as much as Elrond had described her. As the room fell into a calm hush, while the woman collected herself. Lurlosel soothing her with a calm hand, palming gentle circles on her back. The gentle glow of sunlight on pale wood bathed the scene in a tranquil ambiance, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had just unfolded.
"Pains? Please what word is pains?" Her voice croaked, slow with exhaustion and confusion.
In a manner well practised, Lurlosel made a show of pinching herself so the girl could see. "Ow, that hurt. You know the word hurt, from yesterday? My arm hurts now; it is in pain. My arm pains me."
Nodding in understanding, the mortal looked to the side in consideration. "I do not remember Foresight before-before." She struggled to articulate, frowning as the words she wanted to say staggered awkwardly from her lips. "I do not remember if Foresight hurt before-before. Today Foresight hurt then not hurt. If I not look at Foresight; it hurt. When I look; Foresight not hurt." She glanced between the various elves around her bedside. "Yes I speak words, am I understand, are you understand?"
"Am I understood? Do you understand?" Lurlosel corrected on reflex, the woman with similar immediacy repeating back the corrections.
Elrond patted the woman's hand gently whilst offering a reassuring nod, as he replied soon after. "Yes, we understand. Your Foresight only hurts when you do not look. If you do look, your Foresight does not hurt."
She curved her lips in response into a small, weary smile that didn't quite succeed in conveying any happiness. Erestor watched a bead of blood well up and ooze out from a scratch barely a fly's width from the edge of the woman's waterline on her right eye. A twitch more in the wrong direction and that scratch – deep enough to draw blood – could have blinded her.
'Though I imagine that was indeed her intention. What a price to pay! What did she see – or resist seeing – that this would be the cost?'
Erestor was still not convinced of her suggested heritage, nor he would grant her status as a Seer as no-one present had bothered to ask her what she had seen yet; but after that light show no one could deny there was a magic about this mortal woman. Not Elvish magic either.
"Hm... young Miss Minastauriel?" He addressed her for the first time.
She looked away from where she had been watching Elrond and Lurlosel deal with her scratches and the blood under her fingernails and sniffled a little before meeting his gaze with a new, trembling smile. Now that he had her attention – Elrond watching closely – Erestor was at a loss at what to ask her first. Where to begin? Perhaps there really was something more than the blood of edain about her; he felt all sorts of questions arising in his mind as he met her gaze. Why did she think she was here? What had she seen? Did she know anything, had seen anything to explain the darkening shadows? Or had she seen the past? Had she seen any of the terrible history that stained Arda and Aman enough to sink continents. Had she seen him before? When he was young, head full of the wrathful speeches of Fëanor, Lord of Light and Dark? Or had she seen nothing, or nonsense, and all this Foresight would be discounted?
"Yes, my Lord... ah I do not know – oh!" She squinted at Elrond's chief advisor, forgetting her scratched lids. Lurlosel tutted over her patient whilst Elrond motioned for Erestor to draw closer.
"Poor eyesight." He was reminded in Elrond's calm manner. The woman's grey eyes swept over him then peered closer at his face before a smile infinitely more genuine than the last appeared on her still blotchy face. "I see you before! Before-before. I know this."
"My name?" Erestor prompted, his curiosity piqued.
After a moment of consideration, she abruptly beamed. "You... talk when Lord Elrond question ask, um, when Lord Elrond ask question. You look books and you talk." The summary of his role in the valley ended with a decisive nod, her proud smile not fading even when someone behind him, probably Elrohir, snorted.
Elrond's dignified façade remained intact, though the corners of his lips kept twitching in amusement. "Hm – a rather compelling description, would not you say?"
Sending a withered look at one of his oldest friends, who was still as much a brat as he had been in the first age, he replied to Elrond first, "Yes quite – next time Thrandruil questions my presence in your staff, we now have the perfect reply."
Elrond was too respectable to snort. Apparently Tatharon was not.
"Ah hah!" The woman all but yelped, before quelling her excitement with whimpered sniffles and the reopening of a couple scratches that had Lurlosel fussing again and dabbing away a few slow bloodied tears. Because Elbereth forbid an Adan from not expressing every emotion they feel with vibrant intensity. Elrond glanced his way like he knew Erestor was judging the Atani again.
Elrond's ability to use ósanwë notwithstanding, Erestor had never quite figured out whether or not Elrond really did have some sort of mind-reading ability. Truthfully, he felt it better that it stays that way.
"My Lord Erestor." His attention was summoned... by the woman. Her confidence; a bright grin on her face, assured in her triumph.
"Hmm." He bowed his head to a polite but not deferential angle. "Well met."
Happily, she responded in kind, as much as she was able to whilst still being mostly curled up on her bed, Lurlosel watching like a hawk in case the girl tried to stand. The woman glanced behind him and murmured a greeting to the twins with a shy smile before turning to Lord Elrond.
Smiling brightly, she greeted him. "My Lord Elrond. I saw you yesterday, now I see you today. I am sorry for the-" she gestured to her scratches as Elrond quickly waved off her apologies.
As Elrond assured her – in terms the woman apparently already had managed to learn in a single day – that she was not to blame and so on and so forth, Erestor heard one of the twins, probably Elrohir, whisper to the other. "What do you think Lady Minastauriel saw?"
At the sound of her name – or title, as Lord Elrond and Lurlosel insisted – her attention was caught again by the twins, their figures tall and imposing. The cut of their tunics over dark underrobes gave them striking silhouettes, and stars twinkled like distant constellations on their collars and in the circlets adorning their near-raven hair. She was fairly certain they must be Elladan and Elrohir, although she couldn't recall ever seeing them before even in visions. Their gazes, though intense, were less fierce that that of Erestor, and she was grateful for the respite.
In the face of Erestor, the grumpy elf who clearly had a problem with either her or Edain in general – she could only politely smile. Erestor's fair features bore the same timeless youth of the Eldar, but his severe expression masked it well. His dark grey and red robes draped elegantly over his frame; shoulders broader than she expected of someone she knew to be a scholar. The dark brown of his hair had little adornment, and instead the long tips of his elven ears, unlike the short points possessed by Elrond Peredhel and his sons, bore several glittering jewels set in silver, or perhaps even mithril. Unlike Lurlosel's and Tatharon's ears, which grew close to their heads to the point of blending into their pale hair, Erestor's ears curved out slightly at the tips, allowing them to poke out from his hair and reveal the gems. To Minastauriel, this had the unintended effect of appearing rather charming… and a little cute.
Her smile brightened a little, Erestor no long appearing quite so intimidating when she concentrated on how handsome the elf was, rather than the penetrating glower of his eyes.
Minastauriel was sure she must have appeared obscene; smiling with her face all scratched up. Lurlosel had done her best to hide the blood stains on the handkerchief from her sight, but she knew she was bleeding and looked horribly dishevelled, nothing like the effortless grace the other occupants of the room portrayed. Unlike Erestor's almost-glare, the twins were looking at her in a far less worrisome manner, a mixture of curiosity and amusement, though lacking the reassuring warmth she had already come to expect from their father. A warmth she couldn't help but smile at in return. But whatever anger the two held – and they held plenty, sharpened like a knife – the reason for it she knew did not lie with her. So, taking the chance granted to her, she bowed her head again.
As Minastauriel spoke, her voice wavered slightly, betraying her nerves that fluttered in her chest. "Well met Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir. Thank you for delivering me from the Rhudaur." She could do this. She had rehearsed the next part, the apogo – ahem – apology, with Lurlosel countless times before her Foresight had suddenly cut that off. But now, sat haphazardly in front of the imposingly attractive twin sons of Elrond, her confidence faltered. Naturally, this meant she immediately trailed off and messed it up. "I am sorry for the teeth, ah, bite… attacks? Ahem – I am very sorry for that. Lord Elrond said – well never mind. I am sorry." She finished abruptly, cheeks turning red from her verbal stumbling.
One twin gave a short but genuine laugh, more a chuckle than anything that still momentarily lifted the tension in the room. Minastauriel saw Elrond's expression from the corner of her eye; him sat close enough to make out his features clearly; he seemed both amused and relieved, like he hadn't seen his son laugh in centuries.
Meanwhile, Elladan and Elrohir their heads tilting in unison as mirrored reflections whilst they considered the mortal. They shared a conspiring glance and a smirk.
"We'll accept your apology, though we must say such words are unnecessary," one began, his tone light and playful.
"Indeed." The other chimed, mischievous glint in his eyes and amusement thick in his voice. "Your little blunt teeth left no mark whatsoever. You could have put more effort into it, you know."
Minastauriel spared a glance at Erestor and saw him rolling his eyes in exasperation at whatever the twins had said. She had only known about half the words spoken but their teasing tones put her at ease. It was good they didn't appear to hold any hard feelings against her.
One twin, Minastauriel thought it might be Elladan, continued, "We will accept your apology, however, if-"
"Elladan." Elrond injected, voice firm.
His son brushed off the warning with hands held up in a show of innocence. "Ada, ada – we just want the Lady Minastauriel to tell us what she saw in her vision."
Keeping a careful straight face, she decided to have a little jest of her own. Straightening her posture, Minastauriel met the twin's gaze squarely. "I see Lord Elrond," she stated bluntly, leaning slightly into her heavily accent Sindarin.
The twins stared at her. Several eyebrows twitched whilst Tatharon and Elrond both tried very hard to keep their faces straight. One couldn't quite suppress a snort.
"My lady... no, we are asking what you saw in your Foresight; not what you see in front of you now."
"Our guest nearly lost an eye and only woke a day ago. Is this really an appropriate time for such enquiries?" asked Elrond, fingers massaging his brow, already exhausted from his sons' antics. Nice as it was to see them displaying an interest in anything other than vengeance and hunting, the girl they were ... teasing? ... still had blood on her face. Minastauriel took a sip of water to prevent herself from smiling and giving the game away. The liquid was a welcome balm on her sore throat.
"Surely you are curious too Adar? You've been talking and asking her questions since she awoke yesterday."
Finally, Minastauriel could keep a straight face no longer. She let a laugh bubble out freely, before offering the rough explanation. "Your faces when I said I see Lord Elrond." Still chuckling, she went on. "My Foresight showed me a vision of Lord Elrond."
"Your Foresight was a vision of myself?"
The attention of the room's occupants was hers. Minastauriel felt a sense of belonging wash over her. This felt natural, comfortable, despite the chaos that surrounded her.
"Yes." She confirmed, meeting Elrond's eyes steadily. "I can tell you?"
"I would be grateful to hear such details, please." Elrond answer, his tone gentle but eyes showing his interest. "Although it can wait, however, if you need further time to recover."
Minastauriel shook her head slightly, dismissing any concerns. "I have no hurts," she assured them, her voice holding a hint of resolve, "I mean, I feel no pain".
Minastauriel offered them a shrug, before looking to the side as she recalled her vision. As she delved into the memory, Minastauriel felt the weight of the recent agony slowly dissipate. The images danced vividly in her mind, having etched themselves into her memory with surprising clarity. Even though she hadn't consciously tried to remember them, the scenes lingered, their details sharp and defined.
Eyes unfocused, gaze drifting slightly to the left of Erestor, she began she describe what she had seen. "I saw words, on paper." Her voice was soft, but steady. "You – Lord Elrond – looking at words in a... paper… I know the word; it is a book. With Aragorn. Little Aragorn. Lord Elrond look to words in the book. Words are song. Um – Elrond look to words and sing. Aragorn then asleep."
That had been it. For all that she had fought the sudden vision – which had been entirely unexpected and rather terrifying to have occur – the vision itself had been short and sweet, of a pleasant evening yet to be.
As she finished speaking, Minastauriel noticed Erestor's highly unimpressed expression, and desperate to please she wracked her brain for anything further to add. Then inexplicably a new scrap of knowledge made itself known within her mind. So suddenly and quietly did the knowledge appear, Minastauriel found herself humming a curiously familiar, comforting tune without fully realise she was doing so.
At Elrond's sudden gasp, she stopped her humming, brow furrowed in confusion. She noticed the mild surprise on the faces of Elladan and Elrohir and Erestor's frowned puzzlement and realised she had done something odd again. "Lord Elrond?"
Her gracious and still slightly startled host gave one long, reaffirming blink, before waving off any concern. "Apologises, Lady Minastauriel. The tune surprised me; please could you repeat it?"
"Repeat? Lord Elrond wants me to repeat the... song sound?"
"The tune. The sound of the song is the tune. Please repeat the tune."
"Yes, but I only repeat the tune. I do not remember words – and I only know a few words." Slightly abashed from such focus being put on her humming – rough as it was from her croaky voice - Minastauriel's voice grew much quieter than before. Thankfully, her soft tone meant nothing to the elvish ears surrounding beside her. Elrond listened intently as Minastauriel hummed the tune a couple times before he glanced at Erestor.
"My friend, would you not agree that tune is from a Fëanorian lullaby."
Erestor glanced between his Lord and the mortal with a twist on his lips. Sardonic though the smile was, the tone in his next words was not harsh and he did make some attempt to speak slowly and use words the mortal would probably already know. "Yes, I remember it myself – it is a very old lullaby. The same lullaby you have sang to generations upon generations of Dúnedain toddlers. Who no doubt taught many others in turn."
Eager to use her developing language skills, Minastauriel offered a question. "Fëanorian? Fëanorian lullaby? What is lullaby?"
"Lullaby is sleep-song. It – the tune – is from a Fëanorian sleep song, a lullaby."
Nodding inexplicably excited about this, she continued. "Elrond hear the lullaby – when Maglor sing?"
A pause, breaths held. Minastauriel bit her lip, finally realising this entire conversation regarding the Fëanorians was making her appear rather shameless and blunt in the face of Elrond's – now evident – discomfort.
'Oops.' About to make amends as best she could and thanking Eru that she already had been taught how to apologise, she had just opened her mouth when Elrond carefully smiled.
Elrond's smile was flawlessly polite and benign; a familiar gesture that appeared whenever Maglor, his atya in all but blood, was mentioned in his presence. Despite knowing the mortal harboured no ill intentions in mentioning him, years spent in Gil-Galad's court had ingrained a conditioned response. Those years had taught him to grit his teeth and face their judgement silently.
Initially it had not been so. When he was freshly furious at both being abandoned by Maglor and Maedhros and by his own brother's choice, for all that he and his twin's sundering had not yet taken place. At that time, such comments made by Gil-Galad's court had felt like vindication.
It was later, when his rage had waned and exhausted itself, when he realised no parent of his would ever return for either he or his brother, that it then began a challenge to bear witness to the judgement of elves who had never met either of the Sons of Fëanor. Elves who believed every slanderous rumour; believed the Maedhros Peredh-orc slurs and insinuated how Maglor must have beaten he and his brother when teaching them music; as how else could a Peredhel Sindar have such power of Song, enough to meet Ñoldorin standards?
But this was not Gil-Galad's court. This was not even Gil-Galad himself, who had always at least tried to understand his friend. Gil-Galad who had declared Elrond his herald with complete confidence in his decision; never doubting his choice. Gil-Galad who had listened when he could spare time to do so.
So, smiling with a relaxed jaw, he finally nodded.
Minastauriel returned the smile in equal measures of softness and understanding, genuinely and bright-eyed, with new forming scabs doing nothing to diminish her expression. Cooing, she added, "Pitya Elrond hear Maglor sing... See music of Makalaure?" Her voice had stayed soft, almost hushed as she treaded carefully now further into the conversation. There were a few beats of silence as a hundred questions arose in the minds of her elvish audience – though many could be answered with a 'At this point, why are you even surprised?'.
Indeed, Elladan and Elrohir had not so much as blinked. Even with her memory dismantled and her language that of a toddler, she had retained her talent at saying precisely the most shocking thing one could say at any given moment. Surprised as he was, Elrond took a moment to understand her reference to Maglor's legendary skill in Song, known as Gold-Cleaver, capable of shaping the very fabric of the world's music. It was not a skill he had demonstrated in Arda marred except when wielded like a sharpened weapon. Celebrimbor had told him, centuries later, that in the days before the Oath, when Celebrimbor was young and all Sons of Fëanor whole and hale; his Uncle Kano had sung joy and love and peace in golden visions before his audiences.
Elrond had never seen this true manifestation of Maglor's power, for all that Maglor did sing for he and his brother, and even Maedhros. Yet, here was Minastauriel, effortlessly referencing a piece of lore she had no apparent reason to know yet spoke of with confidence.
She was watching his reaction carefully, tilting her head like a curious bird, and in turn he was watching hers. Even after six thousand years, Elrond still felt so conflicted towards Maglor. Adding to this, Elrond did not think he had ever had anyone coo at the thought of Maglor. From his experience, the reactions had been a range of pity to scorn. Celebrían was the exception to that, she was the exception to many things; but even she hadn't cooed.
The hush broke Erestor first. Sighing with his hand tugging his earlobe, he groused. "Lady Minastauriel, I implore you, please-"
Without intending to, Elrond interrupted before Erestor was able to tell the woman whatever it was that he implored. "Yes. I fell asleep to Maglor's singing many times, but I never saw the cleaving of gold."
"My Lord, if we do not tell her otherwise; she will just keep mentioning them."
"She means no harm. Long has it been since I've had a pleasant conversation regarding my… regarding Maglor. It is good to reminisce on what good there was, after all this time." From the look on Erestor's face, he clearly disagreed.
But with even Erestor – who had followed Fëanor across the Sundering Sea – his chief counsellor could not offer a warm memory like this. Erestor could barely endure being witness to this moment as it was: a gentle reminder of when Maglor had at least pretend to care he and Elros; singing to them until they fell asleep with a guarantee of sweet dreams.
Erestor was unapologetic in his history, but his feelings for the Sons of Fëanor were even more twisted and confused than his own were.
Elrond was smiling but his eyes looked so sad. Minastauriel delicately placed her hand on his wrist in what she hoped was a gesture of solidarity.
'He misses him." she thought, observing Elrond's wistful expression, "despite everything, even after six millennia since Maglor's reported death. And who is alive now to share such fond memories with him? To let Elrond speak of his childhood without censure? Does Elrond even have a single thing left to remember his family by, a single tangible memento to anchor him to his family? Could anything survive for so long?"
Time seemed to exist in a bubble, moving slow as molasses. The sprinkling of as sudden springtime shower finally burst the moment, and the hush that had enveloped the room.
Lord Elrond drifted away to confer with Erestor, whilst Elladan and Elrohir were whispering together in the corner. From the few words she understood, they were already planning another orc hunt soon. Lurlosel finished checking her scratches again before leaving her with instructions to briefly rest whilst the healer went to join Elrond and Erestor. Tatharon left shortly as well, mentioning the herb garden and Minastauriel was able to lay in peace for the first moment since her vision.
Erestor spoke animatedly with Elrond and Lurlosel; frustrated frown firmly in place as they discussed what they had just witnessed. At one point, Lurlosel made a comment that had the other two looking at her with heavy consideration. She couldn't hear what they were saying but she could guess she had caused quite a few polarised discussions. Elrond seemed to be ready to believe, whilst Erestor played his part well as his counsellor. Minastauriel felt rather useless, she couldn't answer any questions on how she arrived here or where she was from, couldn't explain why she had powers or how they worked. She wished she could, but at least she would like to give something back. She had what felt like half a world of knowledge in her head.
Elrond had lost so, so much – it weighed heavily of her mind, as did the mystery surrounding Maglor's fate.
No-one knew what had happened to Maglor; only that he was rumoured to be dead. Reported to be dead by some, perhaps eager to say goodbye to a legend and terror of the first age; but his body was never found.
With his brother gone, there was no one left who Elrond could have an honest conversation with about Maglor.
Minastauriel tried to recall anything else of Maglor and Elrond. Perhaps she could give him another memory at least. In her mind, she found a spark in the space left after her previous vision had faded, hard to grasp like when you tilt your head to help your memory, only for it to dissipate like smoke through fingers. Mentally, she strained to catch the flicking light.
'Nearly there. Nearly there. Come on – Maglor and Elrond, Maglor and Elrond. Pull, pull, PULL!'
Wincing a little at the pain that came with her instinctive mental flinch from the start of the vision, Minastauriel held on tight to the spark like a fleeting memory. Allowing it – pulling it, forcing it – to overcome her; her view of the room in the private ward had already faded to white, before a new room came into sight.
The vision was far shorter than the previous; this one requiring energy to force into occurring, leaving her even more exhausted in a way the early vision had not, particularly when she strained to hear into the vision as well.
'Little bit more, little bit more!'
"-riel! Minastauriel!"
Gasping as her recovery room suddenly came back into her field of vision, eye lights fading to nothingness quick without delay. Shrugging off her fatigue, she turned in Lurlosel's grip to face Lord Elrond, whose hands were currently placed on either side of her temple. He was leaning right over her, elvishly panicked whilst Elladan, Elrohir and Erestor stood close by her bedside.
She hadn't meant to worry anyone. 'I guess I just thought it was the pain and my reaction to it that caused such concern earlier. I know Foresight exists here; strange prophetic dreams, magic mirrors, Arwen had a vision whilst she was awake, or she will have. Why the panic?'
"Ah, sorry sorry. I looked and I see. I am sorry for make you... um?" She mimicked a caricaturist panic as she trailed off. The elves gave various huffs, puffs and splutters at this, and Minastauriel wondered if they had taken offence at the notion of them panicking, until Erestor asked, "Lady Minastauriel, did you make yourself look with the Sight?"
'Awh Erestor, you used such nice simple words! Thank you!'
Thinking it best she did not coo directly at an elf thousands of years older than her, she instead nodded with a smile. When the general reaction to this was a shocked silence, with more than one elvish jaw ever-so-slightly dropping, her smile faded.
"What? I do not understo – understand. Foresight is known. Lord Elrond has Foresight. Lady Galadriel has Foresight. You know I have Foresight. Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel make visions to see. Is known. Is not-" she gestured openly at the semi-circle of elves around her bedside, feeling a bit annoyed at their reaction now that she thought about it. She had only wanted to look for something to share with...
"I looked and I See. Maglor and Elrond and... In room. Maglor has a... and the room is... um... Ah Lord Elrond – please clean paper? And draw tool, um drawing stick?"
"I'll get it," offered Elladan, before fetching the items from next to the neatly organised collection of papers Minastauriel had already gained from her tutoring. Awake for a day and she already had used enough paper to cover a table, as if such material was cheap.
Whilst Minastauriel began busying herself with paper and charcoal, Elrond, Erestor and Lurlosel shared a look. Minastauriel barely noticed them leave her side again to speak to each other in hushed tones just outside the door, leaving the Minastauriel with the twins.
It did not take long before Elladan tired of the tense atmosphere, his twin following suit in both fidelity and agreement in temperament.
"Ah Lady Minastauriel,"
"Hmm?"
"Please forgive our earlier reactions – our surprise I mean. Our surprised reactions, yes you understand? We were not expecting a mortal woman to have such power over Gifts of Foresight."
"Powerful enough compare with two of the most powerful Elves in Arda of this Age." Elrohir chimed in, grinning.
Minastauriel paused from where she was sketching out an outline of a window and a pair of beds, to look up at the twins in curiousity.
"Belaith? What is belaith?"
"The word has the same meaning as beleg if you know that word. The word can refer to physical strength." Elladan offered, patting his bicep. At Elrohir's chuckle and good-natured eye roll, Minastauriel couldn't hold back a laugh.
"But can be other things, like describing the Foresight of our father, Lord Elrond, and our grandmother, Lady Galadriel." Finished Elrohir.
The mortal nodded along in understanding before falling into thought. Staining her lips black as she tapped her mouth with her charcoal stick, Erestor - as he and the others re-joined the group at her bedside - could almost see her putting together Elladan and Elrohir's comments.
"Hmm – what is comparable?"
Sighing, Erestor took over the vocabulary lesson when Elrond did not, instead focused on what the mortal was now drawing. She wasn't even looking at the page, her focus instead now on Erestor.
"They mean your powers in Foresight are similar to those of Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel. Few among the Edain have any gift in Foresight, fewer still to look and see on demand so effortlessly. Edain can have Foresight, but you have Foresight powerful enough to compare with Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel. We are surprised at this." At these words, the mortal stuttered, eyes widening and cheeks blushing again.
Shaking her head, embarrassed, she tried to explain with what words she could. "Ah no, no. No compare. I see only a little vision. I only looked and I see Maglor, Elrond and Elros," Elrond's head shot up, causing the mortal to start flailing her hands, flapping panicked. "Ah I only see Maglor has a... and the room is ... um. Words, I can not. I do not. I make picture – then you see?"
She turned back to her paper, Elrond watching her closely for a moment before returning his gaze to her drawing. Gentle strokes formed arches of narrow windows, two small beds and a shelf – no, she added more strokes – a bookcase in between them. Bolder streaks were thereafter smudged carefully, slowly forming three figures. Two small, no, tiny children with long dark hair. Petite smudges alluding to the presence of braids; one child wearing their hair to the left, the other to their right. The picture was no work of artistic marvel, but the careful manner even the smallest smudge was placed gave a dream-like quality to the image when viewed.
The two children were sat on the beds, covers pooling around their skinny hips as they gazed up; two pairs of eyes lightly placed in a thin layer of coal, the woman taking particular care to ensure their eyes were lively with light. These in contrast to the lone adult figure standing before the two children, whose eyes were dark and tired, two coal black holes, as his fingers were roughly sketched mid-pluck of the lyre's string. Slowly she added details.
A rough attempt at the already rough carving Elrond had made of a finch when he was eight, proudly displayed on his side of the uppermost shelf of the bookcase. A small, smudged piece of paper on his brother's side of the shelf – too small for the girl to include the details Elrond could remember even now. The drawing Elros had made of he and his brother, the left and right of the page torn off after Elros had tried to draw their parents. He couldn't recall their faces, had ended up drawing two faces aggravatingly similar to their captors instead. Elrond could see the paper in his memories as clear as if Minastauriel had included the details herself.
Accounting for… skill issues… the addition of decoration on Maglor's lyre was exactly as Elrond remembered it. Erestor's memory did not disagree either.
Something slowly was added beneath Elrond's bed, Minastauriel frowning as she adjusted it. Drew a line too quickly then tried to correct it, once, twice, before crossing out the smudged attempt with a line and drawing an arrow from it to the corner of the page. There she drew, unhindered by the rest of her picture.
"Pitya Elros has... not-plant food grow under Pitya Elrond bed, sing for to it – no – sing to make it grow, when Maglor not in the room. Tadaa~ My vision." She finished off her drawing and turned it so the others could see her last addition; a small box (intended to be drawn hidden under one of the beds) with few tiny round ovals peeping over the short wooden side. Elrond smiled at the memory, and further abashed when Erestor sighed.
"I suppose that is completely true, you and your brother cultivated - mushrooms, was it? - under your beds as children?"
"It was his idea. They were Elros' mushrooms, but my bed was less in sight of the door. I had forgotten about those..." Elrond's eyes were warm as ever as they traced the picture in front of him. "Early on in our... residence at Amon Ereb, he used a farmer's crop song to encourage the cultivation of mushrooms under our bed in a small wooden box with some soil we had acquired." Now Elrond's voice turned hushed, "we were worried that they may not feed us if we displeased them." There was a pregnant pause, but Elrond soon continued, voice bright with bittersweet joy, "Maglor and Maedhros didn't find out until they were big enough to harvest... The kitchens made them into a pie, just for the two of us." Elrond reminisced, mind millennia ago, lips finding themselves turning up in another smile. Which of course, had been Minastauriel's intention all along.
Erestor watched the satisfaction in the woman's eyes grow and gleam. "Why are you here?" he interjected, breaking the cosy feeling the room had gained like a stone breaking the surface of a pond. "How did you get here? How did you travel through time?" He pressed, his tone sharp and direct.
Startled by the sudden shift in conversation and tone, Minastauriel leant back, her motion quick enough to release a burst of lemon scent from the pillows she hastily squashed behind herself. The fragrance mingled with the subtle aroma of herbs and tonics of the ward, creating a clean scent that brightened the room.
"I don't... what is?" Minastauriel stammered, taken aback by Erestor's barrage of questions.
Erestor didn't let up for a moment, his words probing and relentless. The adaneth had gifts indeed; such as knowing exactly the right words to endear herself to others. "If you did travel to this point in time, why do you think you would have done so? What about if you had gone to a different time, a different age? What would you do if you instead went to the First age?"
"Erestor – calm yourself." Elrond intervened, "she can't understand what you are saying."
"I understand little words." Minastauriel said, over her startle, her now determined eyes meeting Erestor's without hesitance. "If I am at First Age, I go Lord Elrond or Lord Elrond great-grandfather, Turgon. I talk."
"Why?" The counsellor pressed.
The question made Minastauriel falter, mouth opening soundlessly. She narrowed her eyes and repeated back. "Why?"
"Why means..."
"Sorry, I understand word why. I do not understand why Lord Erestor say 'Why'. If I am instead in First Age, I would talk. I would See and talk to Elrond or Turgon." As she spoke, her voice grew more impassioned, her hand unconsciously moving to rest over her heart. "Why? Because First Age is sad. Very sad. Many good people sad, hurt, die. Good people, like Lord Elrond and you, but also many people who are not, what is the word, not lordly. Not noble. I have Foresight; why have Foresight and not Look? I am Eruhini like you; if Eru give me Foresight, I will use it. I talk of my visions. I hope my words are understand and instead... maybe less sad good people. Less hurt good people. Less die, death? Less death of good people. I try to help." Minastauriel slowly lowered her hand, when had that gotten there?
Hurriedly she continued, embarrassed as she was by her enthusiastic speech. "I am not in First Age. I am in Third age. I will Look and See and talk. Talk to try and make good for good people."
Catching the implication of the words before even their speakers had finished saying them, Erestor pressed. "Third Age? This Third age – you have seen, or you will see?"
"I will See and I have Seen." She replied, earnestly. "I don't remember all visions from before-before, but I will. I know Third age is, will be important. Sad and Happy. I hope my visions and words are... help. I will See and talk, and make good things for good people, even if only little more." She nodded at her own words. Erestor could see Elrond was charmed despite the near unintelligibility of the woman's rambling explanation.
Erestor kept his opinion to himself for now. 'We shall see, mortal, we shall see. And I will be watching.' The adaneth had a silver tongue or a heart of gold; until he knew which it was, he wouldn't trust her.
The group sat in a stunned silence, absorbing the woman's heavy implications and declarations. Slowly, the conversation picked up again, if stilted, courtesy of Elladan who wanted Minastauriel to explain how she triggered a vision deliberately.
When it was clear Elrond would be staying deep in thought, hand on his chin as he mulled over her words, eyes repeatedly returning to the woman's drawing, Erestor decided to make the most of his distraction.
"Why do you think you are here, Lady Minastauriel?" He tried to keep his voice pleasant.
"Why am I here? Lord Elrond talk to Elladan and Elrohir and they go to me in Rhudaur, then bri- bring? me to Imladris. Before I am not well..."
"No. Why do you think you are here in Third Age?" Erestor pressed, noting Elrond's slightly chastising frown. He smiled back at Elrond in saccharine manner. He wasn't being rude. He didn't have the flowery manners of Glorfindel, hadn't since the Years of the Trees, but with the adaneth's language skills as they were, that was probably for the best.
"I understand Erestor words..." Minastauriel trailed off, the question leaving her truly stumped. She did not know of any amongst Adan or Eldar, Maiar or Ainur who possessed power over time. Not to this extent. Melian enchanted herself and Elwë for two centuries. Celebrimbor's rings could pause time, or was it extend? And was it all three, or just Lady Galadriel's ring, Nenya?
"I... I do not know how I am here in Third Age. I do not know Age is my before-before. If we know who make me to Third Age, we know why?" Offered Minastauriel. "But... why send me? I am adaneth. I know," tilting her head to catch Elrond's attention, she continued, voice hushing as she conveyed what she thought was a secret "-Valar sent Glorfindel in Second Age, then the Istari during this Third to help..."
It was a secret, but not to anyone in the room expect for Lurlosel, who could be trusted to keep such revelations to herself. Not that most of Imladris hadn't already assumed as much regarding Glorfindel's presence when he had first arrived.
A thought occured to the seneschal. Erestor shared a look with Lord Elrond, ósanwë allowing them a private conversation as the woman mused aloud. "And why send me? But Valar... No people in Valinor has gifts over time, yes? So... not them, but maybe..."
"Could she be… no, she is clearly a child of Man. Though… do not the Istari disguise themselves as Edain..." Erestor thought, amidst questioning glances at the woman in question.
"I am quite flattered by friend, but whilst I am skilled, I do not think for a moment I could put any enhancement, accidental or otherwise, on an Istari. Not to this point, nor to erase memories." Elrond returned in thought, able to give at least one clean-cut answer this day.
Lurlosel propped her patient up more comfortably with an additional pillow whilst Minastauriel returned Erestor's occasional distrustful looks with bland smiles, that turned cheekier each time she noticed the tips of his ears poking through his hair. She had been a little slow on the uptake but she had figured it out: the more Lord Elrond trusted her, the more – twice over – Erestor would feel the need to distrust her. And that was just fine, she comforted herself as she gave her arms and shoulders a light stretch, because she no bad intentions towards anyone in Valley at all. So she would never give him a reason to act on his distrust. Just as well too - Erestor looked more than willing to end her should that not be the case.
The woman's stomach announced to the room's occupants that she had skipped lunch, and Lurlosel came back into the room as if on cue. "My Lords... perhaps you and Lady Minastauriel may break for luncheon?" Lurlosel's words were as polite and firm as the healer herself was as she began ushering Lord Erestor out. Before he started interrogating her patient again.
"See you later Lord Elrond. Goodbye Lord Erestor. It was nice to meet you, Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir," chimed the woman.
Elrond and his sons smiled and returned the sentiment. Erestor turned from where Lurlosel was all but pushing him out the room. "Yes, Lady Minastauriel. Thank you for answering so many questions. It was enlightening. We will speak again soon, I am sure."
Minastauriel nodded in agreement, pretending not to notice Lurlosel's expression who clearly disagreed with any further plans of Lord Erestor to disturb her patient.
The woman merely smiled, scabs wrinkling.
As soon as Glorfindel had reached word that there had been an incident with the woman in the wards – from Ambalan Pînaew, of course – he was out of his chambers, heart fluttering uneasily in his chest whilst he catastrophised what could have happened. Ambalan had trailed after him, commenting that Glorfindel could find Erestor in the library if he was interested in further details; tactfully giving the captain a direction for his agitated energy without addressing its existence.
As he entered the understated splendour of the library of Imladris, several elf-maids sent each other significant glances before giggling to themselves – his tall figure striking against the backdrop of the dark green and bronze walls of the library, and the polished oak of the many, many bookcases.
Erestor looked up when the door opened. A few of the maids almost swooned as the captain's golden hair took on a luminous glow in the afternoon light as it filtered in through the high arched windows. Despite the grace with which he moved, Erestor could see a subtle tension in his stance, hints of anxiety flickering again in the depths of his indigo-blue eyes. It had been a decade since his friend had appeared in such unease, the last instance being a yule celebration when a swaying chandelier candle had dripped molten wax onto Glorfindel's face.
"Greeting, Erestor, any news from this morning?" Glorfindel called with a bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His melodious voice carried a weight that contradicted his forced joviality, just as it had when he had made his excuses to leave that yule festival early. Erestor didn't need to decipher the cause; Glorfindel's feigned casual manner inquiring about any morning news revealed his underlying concern.
The scholar gestured to a spare chair across his oak table, strewn with scrolls and tomes. The warrior settled into the chair, the rich velvet cushions plush against his amber robes and the light armour of the shoulder guards he had flung back on as he left his chambers. Their gazes met, each silently assessing the other for signs of worry. Dropping the parchment he had been studying, Erestor gave his friend a knowing look. "Nothing worthy of concern, though there have been some intriguing developments regarding our home's newest mortal guest."
Glorfindel absorbed the information, his shoulder gradually relaxing. "That is good to hear. Please, indulge me – what has intrigued our venerable librarian?"
Erestor gave his account with little in the manner of frivolous details, whilst Glorfindel settled his nerves with each phrase spoken. His eyes glanced around the library, admiring the ancient tomes lining the shelves and the illuminated manuscripts encased in glass frames.
Hearing the lack of urgency in Erestor's voice, Glorfindel was able to take deeper breaths, and notice the scents of aged leather and parchment hanging heavy in the air, occasionally displaced by the aroma of blossoms wafting in through a slightly opened window.
"You are aware Lord Elrond held counsel with me and his sons this morning – we were interrupted by Tatharon." Erestor continued, catching Glorfindel's eyes. "Tatharon was positively frantic."
Glorfindel's eyebrows shot up, "Tatharon of Eregion? The one who saved Telepet's leg?"
Scoffing, Erestor asked if Glorfindel knew of any other Tatharon.
Glorfindel's eyes narrowed, "Tatharon who reached into the stab wound on Telepet's thigh to tie his ligament in knot, whilst on horseback, as said horse was cantering along winding hill-path? The elf who did his own sutures when he got gauged by that boar? He's unflinchable! What did the woman do that made him panic?"
"Yes - that Tatharon, Elbereth spare me, there is no other Tatharon living in Imladris." Erestor exasperated, and then quirked an eyebrow, realising what had concerned Glorfindel. "'What did the woman do' - an interesting choice of words. The woman had a vision during our meeting; if her ability in it is to be believed, then her Foresight is equal only to Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel. Such power comes with a price, however, and causes her great pain if she should try to resist Seeing. It was quite an… enlightening show." His lips twitched in amusement at his pun.
"The situation cannot be dire if you are trying to make a joke – though I haven't the foggiest idea what is so funny about the word 'enlightening' in this context."
Rolling his eyes, Erestor retorted, "I'll take that into consideration before my next scheduled bout of humour. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural light. It took the actions of Lurlosel and Tatharon to prevent her from clawing an eye out. The mortal now has the scratches to attest how close she came to succeeding."
His voice had quietened the longer he spoke, aware of the callous manner he was discussing such morbid details.
"Foresight you say? That is a rare gift – and to be this strong? Then what of her origins?"
With a frustrated sigh, Erestor explained how Elrond was already convinced she must be closely related kin. "The most likely identity, according to our liege, is the Princess Tindómiel, his niece. As I am sure you have now guessed, her arrival here will have long reaching consequences."
Glorfindel began tapping the armrest of his chair. "I was told earlier of Lord Elrond's suspicions but was not aware that it had become so… accepted. Has she remembered anything – your little bird told me she has severe memory loss."
Biting his tongue at Glorfindel's annoying habits, the scholar explained what he knew so far; that she did not know how she had arrived to the Rhudaur, nor how she may have travelled through time if that were the case. "She certainly gave an impassioned speech when I asked her why she was here. I imagine it was what you were like as a child. Sickeningly righteous," he lightly teased, sardonic smirk twisting his lips.
Taking no offence, Glorfindel ignored the comparison in favour of making his tapping off-beat, and enjoying the sight of Erestor's fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to smack him.
As Erestor added, "she did imply the Third Age would have tragedy still to come," Glorfindel's tapping abruptly stopped.
"We already knew that."
The two sat in silence for a moment, hearing the rush of the Bruinen mingle with the songs of swallows and starlings. "Do you believe her? Her identity, her ability?" Glorfindel finally broke the hush.
Lips pursed, Erestor chose his words carefully. "The glow of her eyes I saw myself, and it is definitely no magic of elves or man. She was able to force a vision in front of us and drew Elrond a picture of him, his brother and Maglor, including details that Elrond confirmed as factual. Elrond believes it and is thoroughly charmed by her behaviour. He has already set Nantuil the task of choosing an appropriate set of chambers in the lower level of the Main house."
The lower level was reversed solely for Elrond and his family. Even Erestor dwelled on the floor above.
Glorfindel listened intently, his gaze turning inward as he processed the information. "We must tread carefully then and remain ever more vigilant," he concluded, a subtle tension returning to his shoulders.
Erestor gave Glorfindel with a knowing look. He silently acknowledged his friend's determination to guard the valley but thought his friend did himself no favours in considering it so solely his own responsibility. Despite finding Glorfindel's attempt to mask his anxiety somewhat transparent, he kept his tone light, "Yes, I would say that is the logical conclusion. I will check in with her frequently whilst she stays in the healing wards to see how she is faring with her recovery and her memory. When she is moved into her own, I intended to do the same. Politely, of course." Erestor spoke whilst nonchalantly pushing back his cuticles, as if this were a casual catch up and not a debriefing between two of the most senior members of a stronghold.
"If she is to stay here, she will need mentors I suppose. If she is declared Lord Elrond's niece, she will likely expect the responsibility that comes with being the current highest rank Lady in the valley." Glorfindel kept his tone even lighter as he said without saying that the woman needed to be monitored until she proved trustworthy.
Erestor smiled in complete agreement, "I will be offering my time as a tutor, to get a better read of this woman's heart. I shall wait a little longer to see if any other skills present themselves but potentially, I may take her on as an apprentice. I'll have to meet with her often if that was the case."
Glorfindel nodded slowly, "I'll introduce myself to her at some point too. I could offer to teach her to dance. I imagine she will likely be happy if I offered to show her around the valley and take luncheon with her at times."
Erestor gave a short bark of laughter. "If the maidens of the world only knew how vain you were – what would become of you?"
Glorfindel smiled enough to dimple his cheeks and denied nothing, tossing his golden hair over his shoulders as if to say, 'Your point?'
After both unofficially agreed to keep a close eye on the woman and her potential threat to their home, they sat in contemplative silence. They would have to navigate the challenges ahead delicately, balancing their work to safeguard Imladris and its inhabitants with a carefully arranged front to not risk offending their liege with the suspicion they held this woman in.
Notes:
Context:
Why does her foresight make her eyes glow?
Because she arrived in Arda with poor eyesight but 'now' is too closely related to Eldar to have poor vision from genetics (genes which were edited as a result of Elrond's binding). So the universe of Eä reasoned: her poor eyesight is the result of her powers of Foresight being too much for her puny mortal frame to withstand. Each time she uses her Foresight, her eyes reveal ~Da Powa~ hiding in her Fëa, which is mostly fine but does slightly hurt. Akin to walking outside on a bright day but not the pain when looking directly at a bright light. It is more like a discomfit so she describes it as not hurting when Elrond asks.
However, if she fights a vision, because her foresight is too powerful to deny a vision, the light then becomes piercingly bright and gives significant pain, more the longer she resists. This piercing light overtime damages her eyesight. There'll be clues later on of what, retrospectively, Minastauriel as Tindómiel, fought so hard to resist seeing that made her eyesight so poor.
I hope that makes sense.
More context:
Thrandruil respects Elrond but does not like that his seneschal is a Fëanorian. A Fëanorian that only swapped sides a short while before Maglor and Maedhros' reported deaths.
Also, I'm trying hard not to let Elladan and Elrohir turn either into Fred and George, or into interchangeable clones of each other. _ is difficult.
Oh – and again, more context: Minastauriel fought the vision at the start of this chapter because she had no idea what was happening, and naturally when her eyes started to slightly hurt she instinctively shied away, which lead to the Foresight being all ~You will not resist Da Powa~ and hurting her.
Finally, however well you are picturing the drawing, lower your expectations. Her sketch is horribly ill-proportioned; the elves – even Erestor – are all being very polite XD
Glossary: I think the only terms I haven't introduced already are these, but let me know in a comment if you want anything else clarified:
Ambalan Pînaew - A young-ish elf who works for Erestor as a messenger ¬u¬ Pînaew means little bird; like when you say 'Oh little bird told me this'
Atani: Mankind, including the Edain
Eruhini - Children of Eru; Elves are the first born, Man are the second (hence Atani). I'm not sure where the hobbits fit exactly; I think as a subset of humanity? Ents are children of Yavanna, Dwarves of Aule.
Istari - The 5 Wizards. A select group of Maia, same 'rank' as Sauron, Melian, Balrogs and Huan