"Welcome to Lórien." A tall Ellon garbed in muted grays of Lórien greeted them as they walked down the gangplank. Other attendants moved to gather the belongings from the ship. "I am Furirril, one of the healers here. Did my colleague Mistress Idhrendes accompany you?"
"Nay, she remained in Alqualondë to tutor some healers there." Elwing supplied as she helped the elderly hobbit down the steps. Frodo steadied his Uncle from the opposite side.
"Be welcome, Masters Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. My Lord Irmo and Lady Estë will greet you soon. But first, I am charged with leading you to your accommodations. Once you have refreshed yourselves, we shall gather for a meal under the East Pavilion."
"These people understand hobbits," Bilbo said amiably, obviously rejoicing to stand again on solid land.
"Many cultures believe that sharing a meal together is akin to offering and accepting each other in friendship." Finrod smiled as he stepped up beside Frodo. Then he turned and exchanged soft words with Furirril.
"Did we land in the lake of Lórellin? Is that allowed?" Frodo whispered to Bilbo, but the older hobbit did not hear him. Furirril bowed to Finrod and departed.
"Fear not; he will be back shortly," Finrod assured them. I will lead you to your rooms. I know Lórien well, as I was here often in my first life. Then, I stayed here when I was first re-embodied. Finally, I came again to train further in healing."
"I did not know you were a healer," Bilbo exclaimed.
"Tis surprising what we can turn our hands and hearts to, given abundant time." Finrod offered his sister his arm. Eärwen and Arafinwë walked behind them. Elwing waited alone on the shore while Arafinwë and his family walked ahead with the hobbits. Above on the Vingilot, Eärendil and his crew focused on securing the ship.
"You are free to visit Lórien." Eärendil finally gave his approval to depart the vessel.
"When shall we return to Gwaelindë?" Ecthelion approached. "Our people are anxious to meet your son."
"I do not know if he will travel with us. He, too, needs to spend time here in Lórien."
"But he did not come now. Why?" Ecthelion was also curious to meet this descendent of Elu Thingol. For ages, Elwing walked as Elu's lone descendant among the reborn from Doriath. Eärendil did not answer but looked down on the shore to where Elwing stood alone with her hands raised palms. She seemed to be communing with nature.
"Elwing, what are you doing?" Eärendil muttered under his breath, startled when someone replied to his question.
"She speaks to Maiar nearby – to those cloaked from our senses." Ecthelion supplied.
"How do you know?" Eärendil could not hide the shock from his voice.
"There are dark forces that sometimes threaten from deep in the northern forests. The Maiar guard Gwaelindë at these times." Ecthelion was startled in return at Eärendil's lack of knowledge. "Did not Elwing tell you?"
"Nay, she never told me. But I was ever sailing and had little time for Gwaelindë." Eärendil looked at his wife. His expression was unreadable, although Ecthelion interpreted otherwise.
"Strange that after millennia together, you still do not know each other." He teased, delighting in the annoyance that blossomed in Eärendil's eyes.
"There is no danger here, though." Eärendil scanned the shore.
"Maiar visited us often in Gwaelindë, even apart from the time of danger. Sometimes they come clothed in hröar, sometimes not." Ecthelion's eyes lit up in amusement as if there was much more to the story, but he would not share it.
"How could you know they were there when they came as spirits?" Eärendil was not amused by his friend's game. Silence blossomed between them until Ecthelion gave a wry smile.
"Elwing always spoke to them. In those cases, she stood much as she does now." Eärendil shrugged. "The council was always aware when that happened. Usually, Elwing would keep us informed as to who visited and what they wanted."
Xxxxxxxx Shell Cottage xxxxxxxxX
"Do you wish to go back up to the palace?" Idril asked. Neither she nor Tuor had brought any of their belongings when they came to check on Elrond. Then, Celebrian had been distraught to find Elrond in a drugged sleep. They had spoken long to her of the day's events, trying to assuage her fears.
"Nay, our son will be back tomorrow." Tuor's eyes glowed with a purpose that Idril had not witnessed in many years. It was hard for one of the Edain to live so long. Indeed, it had been a difficult transition. But he had eventually found new interests in Lore and Mathematics. He was looking forward to sharing these with his grandson. But first, they needed to help their son and grandson adjust to new lives. "I think we can go up to the house once they return to change," Tuor noted the glint in his wife's eyes. "You do not wish to leave them alone either. Why?"
"I can not shake the feeling that we are needed here." Idril sighed and moved to sit on the couch near her husband. The soft glow of the hearth lit the small room. Tuor wrapped his arm around her. His steadfast nature and solid form were always a comfort to her, even now when his hröar was more like that of an elf than of a man. For the body of an Edain could not endure the ages.
"It has been so long since we had a family to care for." Tuor kissed his wife's head. He knew she had longed for a large family. But they were gifted only one son from Eru during their lives in Endor. Tuor had been old when they had sailed. Though the Valar did grant him a special existence, the changes that were wroth made it impossible for them to have more children.
"Let us keep watch over them this night."
"Perhaps, in the future, we shall be welcoming more of our descendants to these lands."
XxxxxxxX
In the depths of the night, Celebrian shivered. She could not sleep. At first, she had been unnerved by Idril's account of what had transpired between Elrond and his parents. Elrond's levelheaded grandmother had likely left out parts. She was concerned about finding Elrond sleeping deeply due to the potent draught that Idril had administered. It had been taken in a moment of distraction. She smiled at that thought, for her husband would not have hesitated to do the same for a patient who had been through as much. As the night wore on, Elrond's sleep grew restless. At times, he mumbled and raised his hand as if to ward off a blow. Celebrian could not calm his sleep. Since this morning, she could not reach him through their bond, when by accounts, he had some disagreement with his parents. Idril had assured her they had worked through their 'difference of opinion' and that all would be fine once Elrond rested. But Celebrian knew from experience that such migraines only plagued him under great stress. So she could not help but worry. She was startled by these thoughts when Elrond groaned and slid off the bed, his knees thumping hard on the floor.
"Meleth-nin!" She rose quickly and crossed to his side of the bed.
"Danger!" He panted and trembled momentarily. "Something ill draws closer." He rose and quickly pulled on clothes. The swiftness with which he moved startled her. "Celebrian, are we alone here?" He moved toward the trunk of his belongings. She assumed these were mainly clothing, but heedless of any mess he was making, he dug down. She stood still in surprise. Only leaning over to light a candle. "Celebrian!" He pulled out his sword, Hadhafang, and two precious daggers that had been gifts from Gil-Galad. "Quickly get dressed. My parents are in Lórien. Are we alone in the cottage?" She sprang into action, pulling on clothing.
"Nay, Tuor and Idril are here." As if in answer, Idril's voice rang in the hallway. "Are you well? Elrond? Celebrian?" Elrond opened the door and motioned to his grandmother.
"Something approaches." Elrond shivered. "Can you sense it? I feel it's ill-intent. Is Tuor awake?" Idril paused in concentration.
"I am here, Elrond." His grandsire was fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. "What is it?"
"I sense something – it is distant," Idril confirmed.
"Not so distant." Elrond handed Celebrian a dagger. "Do you have a sword?"
"Is such a thing necessary in Valinor?" Tuor turned in surprise as a light flickered to life in the sitting room. Elrond moved in front of them with his sword drawn. When they stepped into the room, they could see the light emanating from an ancient sword that hung over the mantle. Tuor reached up to pry the ancient weapon down from where it had been secured on the mantel for who knows how many ages. Dust swirled around them. The leather-wrapped pommel crumbled in his hand, leaving the crossbar attached to a grip that was now merely a thin metal bar. The light of the blade grew more intense.
"Can it still be used?" Elrond inquired urgently.
"The blade is ancient." Idril assessed it. "I would hazard to guess that it originated before the migration to Valinor. Perhaps Aulë himself forged it.
"That it glows is an ill sign indeed," Tuor said, remembering well the blades of Gondolin. He was fastening a makeshift holder for the end.
"Take Hadhafang." Elrond handed Tuor the pommel of his sheathed sword. "It is intact, and you are the stronger of us."
"At least at the moment while you are still recovering." Tuor graciously accepted the sword. Idril, in turn, handed Elrond the ancient sword.
"Do we stay here?" Celebrian's voice wavered as she handed Idril the second dagger. "I will not be left behind."
"It is better to remain together." Idril ventured. "Is there a bell or place to signal to the main house?"
"Over near the oak tree," Tuor recalled. He noted Elrond draw in too deep a breath. "It comes closer?" The Peredhel nodded, his features carefully blank. Tuor knew that the Peredhil had seen countless more battles than he had.
"None of the Maiar is nearby." Elrond reached out to squeeze his wife's hand.
"Can you call Uinen?" Celebrian's voice wavered. Idril saw a slight glow pass from Elrond's hand into his wife. Celebrian shook her head at him in admonishment as if to say "save your strength."
"Not here. Perhaps outside, closer to the sea."
"It is better to make for the palace. There, we would not face whatever this is alone." Idril looked at the others. Wordlessly, they all agreed.
"You will stay behind me, Penneth," Tuor stated unequivocally to Elrond, who raised his eyebrow in surprise at Tuor's reference to him as a child. "You are enough of a target holding a glowing sword. If you can sense what is coming, do you think it can sense you too?"
"There is a high probability," Elrond said. He did not wish to draw evil to them. He did not want any harm to come to his loved ones.
"We are not leaving you." Celebrian squeezed his arm, reading his thoughts. Idril and Tuor were quick to agree. They stepped out of the cottage. Only the stars directly above or over Alqualondë glittered in the sky. Over the sea, it was pitch black. Not even the moon was visible from where it usually perched at this time over towards Tol Eressëa.
"Kill the others, but bring me the spawn of Eärendil." The hiss carried to them in the wind. Or perhaps they imagined it.
"I feel it, too. It is an ancient foe." Idril whispered as they hurried forward. Tuor looked at her grimly. They both remembered the desperate escape from Gondolin. Idril shivered suddenly, recognizing the evil behind their foe.
"Quickly, this can not be defeated by the few weapons we carry." Idril cried.
"Run!" Tuor commanded. A momentary glance exchanged Idril's wordless promise to alert the palace. Then she dashed away across the beach. Tuor's soul recognized the danger, which now approached. "Do not look at what comes lest you become enspelled." A moment later, a bell sounded.
"We will not make it." Elrond turned to his wife. "Go now!" Tuor was about to push his grandson forward but hesitated at the power that suddenly radiated from Elrond. Celebrian had also disregarded the order to run and stood behind her husband. Her hand touched his shoulder as if to add her power to his. He could not make out the words of the faint chant that passed Elrond's lips. But the wind answered, whistling and swirling around Elrond and Celebrian. Then, furiously, the wind underwent a jarring transformation, generating a gale force that leaped toward the sea. The abrupt change caused the couple to stumble. Tuor wrenched Celebrian up as Elrond staggered to his feet. Their hair nearly blinded them as it blew in the wind. The three of them turned and stumbled up the beach after Idril. They fled past the oak tree, which waved in stunned silence at the unnatural tempest.
"Will it be enough?" Celebrian yelled. Elrond was a step behind, and Tuor guarded their retreat. They felt heat at their backs and dared not turn around.
"It buys us time." Elrond panted. Then, all were momentarily suspended in midstride at the barrier. The strange and supernatural phenomenon wavered like a dream and gave way, allowing their passage. They stumbled forward out of the cyclone and into a deceptive calm. "At the very least, it has caused our foe to pause. If we are lucky, perhaps they will retreat wherever they came from." A terrible shriek sounded, followed by deep, unintelligible speech. The barrier in front of them glowed suddenly red up to a great height of nearly thirty feet. Trees cried in pain.
"Meleth-nin, come away." Celebrian pulled Elrond's left arm. Tuor realized that his grandson was staring at the barrier as if frozen.
"Come Penneth!" Tuor urgently pulled him away. "Elbereth, protect us and keep whatever follows us out of Alqualondë." They stumbled up towards the gardens, where they were met by Prince Falmatar and the palace guards. The Lindar were all staring at them. The wind wailed in the background. Yet, here, not even a gentle zephyr rustled the leaves. Falmatar paled as he recognized the sword that Elrond carried. The ancient blade was glowing even as the world was oddly bathed in the red light that seeped through the barrier.
"What happened? What is that shriek? Where does the red light come from?" Falmatar's eyes narrowed as he demanded answers. Tuor stepped up to him.
"We sensed some evil approaching and left the cottage, for it was too exposed."
"Evil? You did not see it?" The four shook their heads. "We should investigate." Falmatar turned to signal to his guard as the barrier lit up in gold and red. The sword in Elrond's hand was bright.
"Nay, do not risk your guards. Whatever hunts us is more powerful than elves." Elrond's voice was soft. Gaps of disbelief met his statement. "Help is coming."
"How do you know?" Falmatar demanded.
"I called for aid." Elrond divulged softly as he gazed not at the Lindarin's Prince but back at the barrier. Moments later, all went dark. Falmatar's guards pulled their prince and the four dignitaries behind them as they unsheathed swords that had never seen a real battle. But as their eyes adjusted to the simple glow of the stars, they relaxed. Tuor turned to Elrond, who grimaced and rubbed his head.
"Ossë and Uinen have arrived?" The elder statesman guessed.
"Only Ossë; he is surveying the beach," Elrond informed him. Tuor nodded and slipped Hadhafang back into the sheath as Celebrian unobtrusively slid her arm around her husband.
Xxxxxxxxx Lórien, deep in the night xxxxxxX
"Elwing, beloved, you should stay here and spend time with Melian." Eärendil traced the lovely curve of his wife's back with his hand. She turned and gifted him an awkward kiss. So many years apart, where all they had were stolen kisses and stilted conversations. These last two years were a new beginning. They slowly learned to care for each other as they recovered from the Silmaril's loss and adjusted to what seemed, at first, to be a world devoid of color. Now, they needed to trust enough to confide their secrets to each other honestly. Eärendil brushed the enticing silken black hair behind her beautiful ear. "Elwing, can you share your heritage from the Maiar with me? Can you help me understand what you need from the others who share this kinship?"
"You will not understand." She whispered.
"I have no chance of understanding unless you tell me." Eärendil sighed at her silence. "If I can understand, I think we can help our son together." An image from his first interaction with his son sprang to mind. His heart twisted at the thought that they had left him alone.
"I know you have kept much from me about the trials and tribulations you endured over the many years you protected Gwaelindë."
"Who told you?" She paused and then read his mind. "Ecthelion."
"Ecthelion was right. I should have seen past my work. I should have acknowledged the work you and others accomplished there. I could not see past my daily flights."
"The Silmaril is all-consuming, and you had to focus on your appointed task."
"But not at your expense." He rested his head against hers. It was true that the Silmaril was a jealous mistress. "You could have told me."
"I tried at first. But then I accepted the way it was."
"The future will be different."
"Who is to say how it will be." Elwing eyes clouded. Eärendil made his decision.
"I will travel back tomorrow morning to Alqualondë. My heart says our son needs at least one of us. But you should linger for a few days. Walk with Melian and gain strength from the songs here. You can travel back when you are ready."
"I thought you did not approve of me traveling that way."
"Your gifts make you unique." Eärendil sent his love through their bond. "I love you. I do wish to learn all about you."
Xxxxxxxx Throne room of the Lindaran xxxxxxxxX
"The trees would have burned if it had been a Balrog." Olwë turned to the scout.
"All the trees near the passage are dead, Sire." Lutawë, Olwë's Seneschal, reported on the ongoing investigation. "But they are not burned. I know not how to describe it." There were many gasps, including from Celebrian and Elrond. Cévëalë noted earlier how pale the two children were. She sent word for the healers to attend them shortly.
"I doubt it was a Balrog." Falmatar paused as he waited for their full attention. "There were only seven Maiar who turned to Morgoth. Two were slain in Gondolin. Four fell in the War of Wrath. By all accounts, Mithrandir slew the last."
"I have felt that fear before. It is not a thing ever forgotten." Idril added quietly. "This was similar."
"If it was not a Balrog, it could have been a descendent of one." Tuor proposed. A long discussion followed as Olwë, Falmatar, and the Lindaran council considered the possible explanations.
"Sire, may I point out that you have not asked Lord Elrond Peredhel." Lord Mapata spoke up. "Certainly, he may have insight into what stalked our guests in the cottage this night." All eyes turned to the foreign elf Lord, who straightened under the scrutiny.
"Elrond, please come forward," Olwë commanded. Elrond squeezed Celebrian's hand and rose to walk up to the dais. He bowed and moved closer when Olwë motioned to him. "Do you have insight into what we are dealing with?"
"Its song," Elrond paused momentarily, "held darkness and was focused on us. It was not a song that spoke of elven fëar. It did hold some notes of the Maiar songs."
"It was a Maia?" Lutawë clarified.
"We can not protect against Maiar!" Others voiced the same fear.
"Nay, I say its song resonates with undertones of a Maiar yet subtly. I know not what it is exactly, yet it is part Maia."
"Like you, Peredhel." Others were affronted by Lord Mapata's implication. Elrond gave no sign of being offended.
"I have little of the bloodline." Elrond turned to Olwë. "I can hear some of the Maiar songs. During the War of Wrath, they were deafening. The shrieks of the enemy were as shocking as the war strands of our allies. Balrogs were also there and were Maiar in origin, though twisted from their original form. Dragons have some of that song in them, and so do the descendants of Ungoliath."
"Could you discern prints on the beach?"
"Nay, even the footprints had been scoured away, yet that could have been by the wind."
"Tuor implied that was your doing." Olwë was intrigued.
"Yes, Elrond called the wind to us in our flight as I already described," Tuor spoke.
"How did he call the wind?" Lord Mapata's question held some animosity and not a little fear. Many sailors feared such power with good reason.
"He has a name." Olwë rebuked the noble. "I expect you to treat Lord Elrond with the respect he deserves as a Prince of many lines."
"I have a connection with the wind forged through years of using a Ring of Power to protect the Haven of Imladris," Elrond confirmed.
"Have not the power of the rings diminished?" Falmatar had spoken long to Galadriel and Finrod about the rings of power. Elrond reached to draw a chain from around his neck. It held a gold ring with an exquisite blue stone and a golden flower pendant. Others murmured in astonishment as Elrond unhooked the clap and drew Vilya from the chain. He handed the ring to Olwë and respectfully stepped several steps backward but did not withdraw. Olwë turned the ring over in his palm, studying it as Elrond spoke.
"Such things were only possible through Vilya." Elrond paused and bowed his head as if in prayer. "Yet, if power is left in it, I can not sense it. I know not how this was possible. Perhaps we were blessed by Elbereth in our time of need." Queen Cévëalë stepped beside Elrond. Her hand glowed slightly as she touched his shoulder. Olwë rose from his seat and approached them. Wordless communication passed between the King and Queen.
"Penneth?" Olwë raised his hand in question. Elrond nodded his agreement before the King placed his hand on the Peredhel's cheek as he assessed his spirit.
"Penneth, it gladdens us greatly to have you here." Olwë kissed Elrond's forehead. "We rejoice that you are recovering. You and many others have bravely faced danger, showing great fortitude and courage in the outer lands and now here. Go rest, child." Elrond bowed and followed Olwë's command poignantly, leaving Vilya in the Lindarin's possession. Celebrian and Queen Cévëalë accompanied him, leaving Tuor, Idril and the council to continue the discussion. Although silence followed their footsteps, the council bowed as their Queen, Lord Elrond, and Lady Celebrian passed. As the doors closed behind them, Olwë turned and gazed out the large window that faced the bay. A far-off look was in his eyes. Arien gifted the morning sky a faint blush, signaling the dawn of a new day.
"I am glad Lord Aulë's gift was in the cottage at their time of need, for it certainly led credence to Elrond's forewarning of danger." Falmatar rose and moved next to his Adar. Olwë was fingering the ring in his hand.
"Yes," Olwë paused as he turned to Lutawë. "It would be prudent to refit the hilt with a leather grip. It has not lost the ability to warn us of danger, just as Oromë promised when he delivered it to me."
"You carried it on the Great Journey?" Falmatar asked quietly.
"Yes, Ion-nin, I did. There are few here who remember the journey or the time before when we lived near Cuiviénen. Our language has changed much since those days."
"That ring, does it also have such power?" Lutawë was concerned for their safety.
"Nay, power no longer resides in it," Olwë confirmed as he looked upon Idril and Tuor. Perhaps Elbereth was with you last night, or your grandson has been blessed with a stronger connection to the wind. Deadly danger took the two trees without warning. Yet, here we have further warnings that not all is safe in our lands."
"What were the other warnings?" One of the councilors ventured.
"Elwing spoke of danger in the forests north of Gwaelindë. At times, the Maiar would stand as protectors of their lands."
"There have also been incursions of dark creatures in the Pelori." Falmatar cautioned. "We have heard Oromë's horns several times this yen when his hunts brought them close to Alqualondë." Idril gasped at that. Tuor squeezed her hand.
"Never that close." Olwë gave her a sympathetic look. "Three times were we sent messages that warned of Oromë's hunts in the Pelori. I do not think such things are widespread. Perhaps they were emboldened by having such prized guests secluded in the cottage. It was common knowledge that Eärendil and Elwing sailed to Lórien. All ventured outside to watch the famed vessel pass overhead."
"They did fly over the Pelori to shorten their journey," Tuor observed. "Many eyes would have followed their journey, not all good."
"If these are descendants of foes bested by the Mariner in the Vingilot, then the enticement of gaining revenge on the Mariner's son might have drawn them here." Falmatar ventured.
"Sire, might I suggest that we send word to Ulmo and Manwë to apprise them of what has occurred." Lutawë rose as Olwë nodded.
"Perhaps they may deem to speak with us on this issue."