Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: An Heroic Love (#2180)
Author: Ennorwen
Chapters: 8

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Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: An arc that celebrates Elrond's great love for Arda as told through tales, letters, & gifts from Celeborn, Elladan, Elrohir & Arwen. Celebrian, Galadriel and many others help. Can be considered an Elladan/OFC, Elrohir/OFC in some parts some of which may be posted separately under different ratings. Part Eight: In his letter, Elladan tells of the reasons for his choice.
Published: 23 Aug 2005
Updated: 04 Oct 2005
Warnings: None
Type: Drama
Characters: Elrond, Celeborn, Celebrian, Galadriel, Twins, Arw


Chapter 1 - Celeborn Arrives in Aman

AN HEROIC LOVE

Author: Ennorwen
Time Period: Fourth Age, Year 127: Aman
Primary Characters: Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond, Celebrian,
Summary: An arc that celebrates Elrond’s great love for Arda through tales/gifts from Celeborn, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen, help from Celebrian and Galadriel, and with back stories and offshoots of the twins, well-known Silvan, Sindar and Valinorean elves, and the Valar
Beta’d by: Becketeer, with much encouragement and inspiration from Rozzan. I thank them both.

Author’s Notes: This is a story of Elrond, about how he came into his contentment after so many years of self-sacrifice. It includes much that takes place in Valinor after Celeborn arrives, and contains the stories of Elladan, Elrohir, some of Arwen, and others as told in journals and letters. It could be considered an Elladan/OFC, Elrohir/OFC romance in some parts. Chapter notes will advise when some entries become more highly rated or are posted elsewhere.


Chapter One

Celeborn Arrives in Aman



The quays of Alqualondë were busy with the coming and going of small skiffs and larger trading vessels. On a normal day, many sails could be seen through the swan-topped archway tacking back and forth – taken by the wind and then not, languidly plying the waters off the eastern shore of The Blessed Realm.

The Teleri oversaw the harbor and were charged with welcoming the ships of Cirdan which sailed from Mithlond and brought the Firstborn to Eldamar.

The last great migration had taken place soon after the return of Olórin and Galadriel to the Undying lands. That ship had also borne Elrond Peredhil, his seneschal, Glorfindel and Chief Advisor, Erestor, the meara; Shadowfax and the two hobbits, Bilbo and Frodo, the last, save one, of the Ring-Bearers. Many elves had made the journey over the next hundred years and there was a great influx of the few remaining Sindar and many Silvan elves among the new arrivals. Some sixty years later, Samwise Gamgee had made the journey, the last of the Ring-Bearers. Since the arrival of Legolas and Gimli seven years earlier, few ships had come, and then only sporadically.

It came to pass that in the year 127 of the Fourth Age, a great white ship, intricately carved with graceful swans and with billowing white sails was spotted on the horizon. It had been recognized as a ship of Cirdan’s making and the harbor master quickly cleared a place for it to dock. Many elves of Alqualondëhad gathered in welcome.

The ship slowly passed through the archway and smoothly slipped into the berth that had been prepared.

Cirdan laid down the gangway as the travelers prepared to disembark. Nearly all were Silvan elves formerly of Eryn Lasgalen or Lothlorien and some few were those who had lived with Cirdan at Mithlond. Haldir and his brothers, Rúmil and Orophin were among the former and to the surprise of many, off strode the Elven-King, Thranduil, of Eryn Lasgalen. A tall, silver-haired ellon remained on the prow, hands firmly affixed to the gunwale, looking back through the archway to the great sea beyond. Cirdan went to him, spoke a few quiet words and after some time, Celeborn turned slowly and made his way down to the quay.

There was much excitement among the elves of Alqualondë for they now knew that these were probably the last that would come to Elvenhome. The harbor master had quickly sent word to Olwë, King of the Teleri and so it was the King himself who made his way to the harbor to welcome them. It was Olwë then who sent messengers bearing word to the newcomers’ closest kin.

One he sent inland to the Woods of Oromë, where most Silvan elves had chosen to make their homes. There lived Laegelin, Thranduil’s wife, their son Legolas and nearby, Gimli the dwarf. Another he sent to the House of Finarfin, King of the Noldor, in Tirion. There it was that Galadriel dwelt, in the house of her father. And a third he dispatched to Elrond Peredhil.

Now reunited with a fully restored Celebrían, the former Lord of Imladris had established his house slightly west of Tirion, hard by The Calacirya. It was situated in a valley, though neither as deep nor as hidden as had been Rivendell. Like The Last Homely House though, the home of Elrond Peredhil was known far and wide as a welcoming refuge and indeed many that wended their way through The Pass of Light on journeys elsewhere enjoyed his hospitality.

The Lord and the Lady had named their home Imlothien – flowering valley – an homage to both Imladris and Lothlorien, the land of Celebrían’s birth. Ever the lore master, Elrond had established the most comprehensive library of the histories of Middle-earth to be found in the Blessed Realm. Some books and scrolls he brought with him and many more he received in shipments over the past hundred years. Some came from Imladris, and many, copied from the archives at Minas Tirith were sent by his daughter, Queen Arwen and Elessar, the King. A few were brought by the hobbit Samwise – a copy of the Red Book and Merry’s tomes on herblore and language.

Erestor, having little family in Aman, had chosen to remain at Elrond’s side and was given charge of overseeing the library. And though Glorfindel had many friends and family eager to house him, he too had decided to make his home there. Residing with them were necessary helpmates – cooks and scribes, musicians and household staff – and many were the temporary residents, either studying or visiting.

It was to Imlothien’s gates the messenger came and once refreshed, shown to Elrond’s study. The Elf-lord welcomed him and was told of the arrival of Celeborn and Thranduil. He waited to hear more, hoping beyond hope that the messenger would tell of the arrival of his sons, but this he did not hear. Masking his disappointment, Elrond thanked the messenger, saw to his comfort, and went to find Celebrían who was at work in the garden.

Walking without his usual confident stride, Elrond approached and then hesitated. She looked especially beautiful – sunlight played in her silver hair and she was singing to herself a song of Lothlorien, all the while her hands were busy – plucking a flower here, pruning there. Sensing her husband’s presence, she turned to greet him but when she beheld his expression, halted.

“What is it, El-nin – my star?” she inquired as she walked toward him.

“A messenger has arrived,” replied the Elf-lord, and said no more but looked into her eyes briefly and then let them drop away.

She stood before him and took his hands into her own, plying light pressure in reassurance.

“Well?” she asked.

“Cirdan has come to Alqualondë. He will not be returning to The Havens. The last ship has arrived, meleth-nin – my love.”

“And?” she asked expectantly.

Moving to enfold her in his arms, he replied, “Your father has come. He will join your mother in Tirion and both will travel here five days hence. There was no word of Elladan or Elrohir.”

It is said that the elves do not cry. That is Nienna, the Weeper, who lets tears fall unceasing, and who does the keening the Firstborn cannot. What is said it not true. For there stood Elrond and Celebrían his wife, their tears streaming down like quicksilver through glass.

Finally, Celebrían breathed deeply, took her head from Elrond’s shoulder and gently placed her hands on his cheeks.

“It was not unexpected, melamin – my love,” she said, voice breaking. “Once Sam and then Legolas had delivered their accounts, we knew the chance of their coming was improbably small. Still, it was not without hope that we waited.”

Heart overflowing with gratitude for her strength, Elrond tenderly kissed her and turning slowly and in silence, led his wife back to the house.








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1


Chapter 2 - A Reunion in Tirion

AN HEROIC LOVE

Chapter Two

A Reunion in Tirion



In Tirion, city of the crystal stairs, the House of Finarfin prepared to greet the Sindar Prince. Galadriel his wife harbored a smile which told one and all that she had been expecting him and was mirthful at the news of his coming.

One hundred twenty seven years past, the High King Finarfin of the Noldor and his wife, Earwen had welcomed their daughter home. She alone of their children remained and the reunion of parents with daughter after millennia was filled with great joy. Altáriel she was to her parents and it was with pride and shame and much gratitude that she had finally thrown off the ban of her return and sailed home.

It is said of the elves that they are never-changing, that the world shifts around them and it is their lot to remain constant. What is said is not true. For Altáriel had changed. Relieved of the burden of Nenya and the rule and defense of her realm, repentant and forgiven, reunited with her parents and daughter, the Lady of the Galadhrim had become as a re-born elf. Joyful and full of mirth, she had cast off the forbidding disposition she had maintained for so long and traveled throughout Eldamar, her starlit eyes and graceful countenance welcomed by all.

So it was she bided her time, and with her parents expectantly awaited the coming of her husband.

Celeborn sat astride the sinewy white meara which had been provided and pondered the events of the past few days.

Once they had disembarked and the Teleri King had welcomed them, Cirdan had taken them to a guest house where they were fed and provided a comfortable, if unadorned, room for the night. He had been slightly taken aback by his first meeting with his distant kin at Alqualondë. He had somehow conjured in his mind that they would be different than he and was surprised to find they were more alike than not. Surely, he loved the forest and they loved the sea, but in appearance and wisdom and general character it pleased him to discover that he so easily felt such a strong feeling of kinship.

Celeborn hardly had time to fathom the changes wrought in his circumstance. While he felt welcome in Alqualondë, he had lived in Endor all of the years of his long life, and while glad of his choice to sail, was at once strangely uncertain of his place in this new world. Ever patient, wise and abiding, this was a strange feeling for him.

He was, of course, anxious to see his wife. Though their bond had been strong, in later years she had been burdened and full of sorrow and yearning. He knew not what to expect and this disconcerted him. He knew also that his visit to his daughter would be bittersweet, but for this he was prepared.

The Sindar Prince had been glad to leave Alqualondë for he was ever of the woodland and reveled in the lush greenery that lined the path westward through the Pass of Light. He tried to envision the light of the two trees as it spread through the pass outward and found his imagination bereft. As many times as Galadriel had told him of the beauty of Laurelin and Telperion and their bright light shining, he could only see what was before him and for that he was glad. One less thing to lament amongst the rest.

Thranduil, Haldir and his brothers and most of the Silvan newcomers had ridden with Celeborn thus far, and now they reached the crossroad where their paths would diverge. Thranduil and the Silvan folk took the road southwest which led to the Woods of Oromë while Celeborn and his escort rode due west ever nearer to the Noldor capital of Tirion.

They rode a few leagues more and then up a narrow pathway and over a rise. Nothing he had ever seen had prepared him for the sight now before his eyes. The fair city gleamed incandescent as it rose over the hillside. Made of shimmering pearl, the towers and domes, porticos and canopies sprang from the cliff sides while all below them was green grass and moss.

Intricately carved into its buildings were scrolling frescoes and the archways and pathways were made of crystal. Here and there a tall tree or copse was placed and the whole sight was of green and gold, white, and silver glass.

Ethereal singing could be heard rising up from the valley and winding its way through the city. His eyes rose to the topmost tower. Here he saw the Mindon Eldaliéva and its great silver lamp and in the small courtyard below it rose Galathilion, the sacred White Tree and of a sudden, his cares washed away. This was the tree from which Celeborn, his namesake was sprung and then Nimloth of Numenor and from Nimloth, The White Tree of Gondor. He at once saw the long life of Arda and beheld it origins, thought of his granddaughter and traced backward to Celebrían then to Galadriel his wife. He also thought of Elrond for a moment, his admiration for the Peredhil burgeoning.

He scanned the tall buildings and felt his breath catch and heart quicken at the sight of the tall elleth clad all in silver on the topmost balcony. He felt her mind brush his.

“Welcome home, amaelamin – my beloved.” She said and he felt warmth wash over him, the sweet sound of her voice beckoning him ever closer.

He urged the meara to a trot and when he reached the arched fishes that encircled the front gate, he stopped. As Celeborn alit, a few stable hands appeared and took charge of the horses.

Unhindered by formal robes for he had worn only a white tunic and grey breeches, he began winding his way through the crystal paths and when he reached the glassine stairs, began taking them two at a time. Undignified, he thought with wry smile, but it did not worry him. His mind was set on the reunion with his wife and that was all. “Amaelamin,” she had called him and his mind he answered her, “Meleth-nin – my love.”

He reached the top of the stairs and entered the courtyard and was speechless at the sight before him. There stood Galathilion, the White Tree and Galadriel his wife beside it, and he had never in all his days seen a sight more beautiful. Her smile was as radiant as all of Varda’s stars and then she stepped forward, and opened her mouth to speak.

“So,” she said archly, “You have come.”

“I have,” said he.

Coolly waiting a few beats as if taking his measure, she then launched herself forth and fell into his arms.

It is said of the elves that they are a reserved people, who run neither hot nor cold. That they withhold much of themselves so as to last an eternity without expending their life’s energy. This is not true.

For in that moment, Celeborn and Galadriel unleashed all of the unspent feeling and yearning of nearly five thousand years and clung and clutched and tears fell and then there was laughter. Bright and sparkling, their unmitigated joy resounded through the courtyard to the palace beyond.

Finarfin and Earwen had obliged their daughter’s wish to meet her husband alone, but compelled by their happiness, joined them and watched as husband and wife were reunited. Seeing them over Galadriel’s shoulder, Celeborn hesitated and drew himself up to his full height, regaining his dignity. Stepping forward while retaining his wife’s right hand in his left, he bowed to the King, touching hand to head and then heart.

The King smiled, looked briefly at Galathilion and then at Celeborn and said,

“You are well named, Lord Celeborn. And with your coming you complete our house and bring great joy to Altáriel and so to us. How find you fair Tirion?”

“It is well,” replied the Sindar Prince, “Nay, more than well. It is beautiful beyond my reckoning. But in truth, I am more enchanted still by the sight of my Lady. For it is with her that all is enhanced, and the city shines all the brighter for her presence in it.”

“To a father and mother, no words are more well spoke and received.” said the King, and added,

“Have you yet had the pleasure of drinking the wine of Yavanna’s gifts?”

Celeborn thought for a moment and then replied,

“My answer is both yes and no, for are not Yavanna’s gifts manifest in Middle-earth as well? But no, I have not as yet tasted the wine of Aman, for I did wait to indulge until I could share it with my beloved.”

“Come then,” said the King, “Let us drink to your coming and the completion of our house.”

And so to a canopied garden they went and shared the fruits of Yavanna’s vines and Galadriel’s laughter flowed through the air enveloping Celeborn and for the moment, he was content.

Earwen had not been silent throughout the conversation and here and there her words had sounded as flowing water to Celeborn’s ears. Ah, he remembered. Of course. For she was the daughter of Olwë, Teleri King of the sea-elves, and his distant kin. It was then he recognized the likeness between her and his daughter, Celebrían. It was not all from him the silver hair came, and eyes grey-blue like the sea. He glanced at Finarfin and then at Earwen before resting his eyes on his wife. It astonished him that in all his years he had considered her Noldo, though he knew of her heritage. In truth, was not her father the King of that kindred? But in the King he saw the golden hair and ageless eyes of the Vanyar and in Galadriel the wealth of all three – Vanya, Noldo and Teleri. He had begun to see things more clearly of late and wondered if the magic of Aman had begun its work on him, but decided to put such thoughts out of his mind and let the bliss of Valinor and his wife’s presence wash over him.

Finarfin’s voice interrupted his thoughts,

“Tell me, Lord Celeborn. Will you stay?”

Galadriel answered, “Father, he has only just arrived. We have much to discuss ere that decision is made. But we will three days hence make the journey to Imlothien. Celebrían has longed to see her father. And, I deem, her father yearns to see her.”

“Yes, and to see Elrond Half-Elven, also. I bear letters and gifts from his sons and his grandchildren. Also, I bear witness to their lives and their passing.”

Galadriel turned and with understanding, replied,

“So it is as I foresaw. All is well, herven-nin – my husband. We will together impart this news and stay some days after, for they will know sorrow and perhaps we may offer some comfort.”

“I have much to esteem in our Peredhil son-in-law,” said Celeborn. “I would have him know it and much more besides.”

“Well,” said the King. “You have many things to consider and we shall take counsel again ere you leave. Come, heldinya – my Lady, let us walk and leave our daughter and her husband to their reunion. Lord Celeborn, we rejoice in your presence amongst us. To see Altáriel shine all the brighter gladdens our hearts and for this we are grateful. We have prepared a feast of welcome for this evening, and until then, will take our leave.”

Galadriel stepped forward and gently took her father’s arm.

“Father, ere you would go, I would ask your assent on a matter of great importance to me.”

“I can deny you nothing, meldanya – my dear. What is it?”

Though addressing her father, she looked straight at Celeborn.

“Altáriel I was and shall always be to you and to mother. But henceforth I would be Galadriel in our lands as that is my husband-name, and I wish for no other.”

“Like Olórin become Mithrandir, my fair daughter?” he replied with a laugh. “So shall it be.” And then turning to Celeborn, said,

“Elrond Peredhil will surely be glad of it. Our grandson by marriage has begun the task of teaching Sindarin to our Quenya speakers and also the reverse. A grand undertaking to be sure, but has been met with much success. In the end, are we not all the Quendi – speakers? Now dear Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, we will take our leave. Until later.”

As the King and Queen left the garden, Galadriel beckoned to Celeborn,

“Come herven-nin – my husband, let me show you to our chambers, for I wish to welcome you most personally.”

“How fortunate,” answered the Elf-lord with a chuckle, “For that is my inclination as well.”

Laughing, the Lady of Light led the Silver Tree inside and no more is said of their reunion, but that it was blissful.

For the next several days, Galadriel delighted in escorting her husband on forays throughout the city. The gifts of the Noldor were strongly evident in the abundance of establishments housing craftsman and scholars and as the midway point between woods and sea, north and south, Tirion was also Aman’s center of trade.

The pair spent much time in conversation. Galadriel recounted her journeys in Eldamar, from the Vanyar city of Valimar, south to the Woods of Oromë and west to the Gardens of Lórien. For many years she had lingered in Lórien and had been succored by the soothing waters and healing dreams of Irmo and Estë. It was there that she was cleansed of her sorrow and purged of her shame. And it was from there she emerged as the contented elf she now was.

She had also witnessed such healing for others, including Frodo, the hobbit. She had been heartbroken to see such a noble hero so shattered and she exalted at his mending. Samwise and Bilbo had also experienced the garden’s enchantment for all that came to Lórien in Eldamar were soothed and restored according to need.

Celeborn told her of Endor, of Eryn Lasgalen and the establishment of East Lorien. He told her of Ithilien and the reclamation of Khazad-dûm and the restoration of Annúminas in the north. He told her of their granddaughter, Arwen the Queen and of Elessar’s success in rebuilding the kingdom. He told her of Elladan and Elrohir and of their ultimate choice. And he told her of their great-grandchildren, nine in all.

Galadriel told Celeborn that while she abided in Lórien, Irmo had graced her with visions of her family across the distant sea. She had been granted brief glimpses of the twins and their sister and she had even fleetingly seen Celeborn in East Lorien and then Imladris. Of these visions she told no one, but this is how she had known he would sail and of the news he would bring.

Together they planned for the journey to Imlothien and then south. Celeborn was anxious to see his daughter and eager to visit the vast woodlands of Eldamar. They would make no decisions on their ultimate dwelling place until they returned and they informed Finarfin of their plans.


Chapter 3 - Visit To Imlothien

AN HEROIC LOVE


Chapter Three

Visit to Imlothien


So it was that four days after Celeborn’s arrival, he and Galadriel set out on their trek. Each rode an ivory meara that were gifts of the King and they were accompanied by an escort of two and a wagon which carried their belongings. The small caravan then wended its way through the foothills of the Pelóri on the one day journey to Imlothien.

The ride was tranquil and little did Galadriel and Celeborn speak. Not for the last time did Celeborn marvel at the ability to travel unwary of orcs of other foul beasts. His mind turned to Haldir and Legolas and the other warriors who had come to this land and wondered how they would adjust to their more serene existence.

As they rounded a cliff face, Galadriel’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Look, herven-nin – my husband, for there lays Imlothien.”

Gesturing in a wide arc, she drew his eyes to the great valley that lay just beyond. Trees and flowers abounded and just like Imladris waterfalls flowed here and there, making beautiful music to his ears. There were a few structures scattered throughout, but they were so well-built into the landscape even his elven eyesight could not see them all.

As they neared the gate they dismounted. Holding hands in shared encouragement, they led the horses the few remaining strides and were welcomed by Glorfindel.

“Mae Govannen – well met,” hailed the golden-haired ellon. “It is good to see you again, mellon-nin – my friend,” he said to Celeborn. And then, eyebrow raised, he added, “And in the company of an elleth of such incomparable beauty and wit, elegance and grace. Welcome, my Lady.” He bowed low.

“Please Glorfindel, do get up. You have not changed, my fair cousin,” she laughed.


“How are my daughter and Elrond?”


“They are subdued, but Celebrían has anxiously awaited your coming. Even the tidings she anticipates could not dull the shine in her eyes. It is true, then?”

“Aye, it is true, mellon-nin.” replied Celeborn, “But it is not solely a tale of sorrow. In truth, it is the reverse and I hope that Celebrían and Elrond come to see it. Ah, but I tell too much. The story is for their ears, Glorfindel, and I am loathe to reveal more.”

“Come then, I will take you to the house,” said Glorfindel.

The horses were released to the stable hands and three walked the short pathway which lead to the main house.

Through the trees, Celeborn caught the first sight of his daughter. He could see her step up on her toes and back down, and stretch out her neck to get her first glimpse of him. Amused by her anticipation, Elrond stood near, and when the three came into sight, slipped his hand behind her waist.

Seeing her father, Celebrían broke the embrace, ran down the five steps and danced toward him, crying,

“Adar, Adar.”

Then she was weeping and Celeborn took her in his arms for the first time in over 600 years. Overcome by his love, he sighed out his affection for her.

“Celeb-loth-nin – my silver flower.”

Celeborn, wanting to show his esteem for his son-in-law, released Celebrían to her mother and climbed the steps to Elrond. Rather than the expected bow or salute, Celeborn gripped Elrond firmly and drew the Elf-lord close. Elrond, though slightly startled, returned the embrace, gratefully accepting his father-in-law’s affection.

“Suilad – greetings. And welcome to Imlothien. We are glad you are here and hope you may stay a while.”

‘We will,” replied Celeborn. “It has been too long that we have been apart.”

‘Come, Adar and Naneth,” called Celebrían. “I will show you to your rooms where you can freshen and then we will drink the cup of welcome. Your trunks have already been taken there.”

Celeborn and Galadriel entered the house and saw before them a long hallway and a great staircase made of marble. It was Gimli the dwarf, Elrond explained, who had overseen the granite and marble improvements in the house. Galadriel’s eyes twinkled as she pictured the dwarf, issuing orders and directing the elves who had done the work.

The first floor contained many of the public rooms of the house – the communal dining area, the hall of meeting, the kitchens, the main library and Elrond’s formal study.

Of a sudden, a tall raven-haired ellon, arms piled with books, crossed the main hallway. He nearly ran into Celeborn who stepped back to avoid the collision.

“Erestor.” said Elrond. “Can you not put the books down for a moment and welcome our kin?”

Two dark eyes peered from between the stacked tomes. Then laughing, the elf placed the books on the stair steps and turned to welcome the pair.

“Mae Govannen, Celeborn. Galadriel. It seems I am ever immersed in my work.”

“It was ever so, my dear scholar,” replied Celeborn, “It is good to see you once more.”

Erestor answered, “I have much I wish to ask you about of events in Arda. I have histories to update.”

Elrond then interjected, “First, they must refresh themselves and see to their things. We all will share the evening meal, Erestor. Perhaps even then you can begin your inquires.”

Erestor gathered the books and moved off to the library. As the four made their way up the stairs, Elrond told Celeborn of the school he had established, supervised by Erestor, for the learning of language and study of history.

Celebrían let her parents to their rooms – a suite consisting of a sitting room, bed chambers, a private bathing area, and best of all to Celeborn’s sight, a large balcony overlooking the surrounding forest.

“Oh Ada,” Celebrían said, her voice breaking. “I have been both elated and fearful at your coming. Forgive me. I know that news you bear and will not relish its hearing, but I am so glad you are here now and will be the one to tell me of the fate of our sons.”

Celeborn took her into his arms and said, “Sell-nin – my daughter, I will tell you all, but please know first that your sons, as well as your daughter, were very happy ere the end. Truly, this news is hard for you to hear, but for them all it was a choice well-made and they were content.”

Then, gesturing to a nearby trunk, he added, “And I bear letters and gifts from all three of your children and from some of your nine grandchildren as well.”

“Nine grandchildren!” she exclaimed. “Elrond, we have nine grandchildren!”

Elrond smiled slightly and said, “Aye. We have nine grandchildren, Cel-nin, but alas we shall never see them.”

Taking Elrond’s head between her hands, Galadriel replied,

“That is true, Elrond, at least for a long while, but what we have brought and Celeborn’s telling of their story may offer some comfort.”

Celebrían composed herself and said to her parents,

“We have all of the time in Aman to hear your telling adar-nin - my father. And I look forward to hearing of our grandchildren. Come, Elrond, let us leave them to refresh themselves. We will see you in one hour on the south portico, naneth – mother.”

“Very well, sell-nin – my daughter.” answered Galadriel, and then the Lord and Lady of Imlothien left their parents to unpack.

Celeborn moved to the trunk he brought over sea and carefully sorted through the items therein. He had thought first to bring out the letters, but came to believe Elrohir’s package should come first. He laid it on the bed, along with a missive from Elladan. Both then washed and changed from their traveling clothes.

Some time after, Galadriel led the way to the south portico where Elrond and Celebrían sat, and on the table before them was an open bottle of wine and four glasses. Celeborn placed what he had brought on the table as Celebrían eyed it anxiously.

Elrond poured each a glass of wine as Celeborn spoke.

“I thought to bring the whole trunk and show you all I have brought, but your mother convinced me that these should come first.”

He carefully opened the package and laid its contents in three separate piles.

On the top of each stack was a portrait of one of their children. Celebrían drew a long breath which turned into a sigh. She had not seen her children for 638 long years, but she had known right away which was Elladan and which was Elrohir. She gently took up the likeness of Arwen and held it to her heart.

“Undomiel-nin – my Evenstar.” She said.

“Aye, she was beautiful, was she not hervess-nin – my wife?” said her husband.

Celeborn answered, “Elrohir is quite talented, sell-nin – my daughter, for it is he who did most of these portraits. He has captured Arwen’s beauty surely, but he has also portrayed her happiness. Look at her eyes, my daughter and be comforted. For many years she knew joy.”

“And, this is Elessar,” she spoke as she marked the next portrait.

“It is, meleth-nin – my love,” replied Elrond, as he considered his foster-son.


“Of all of my brother’s heirs, Elros’ blood ran most truly in him. He was a skilled warrior and a great leader of men, but he was also wise, kind and most learned. Though I blamed him for taking Arwen from us, I cannot think of any mortal more worthy. And yes, Celeborn, Elrohir has indeed captured her in her bliss.”

Celebrían placed the two portraits side-by-side and gathered the next four in her hands. She laid them out under those of Elessar and Arwen as Celeborn spoke.

“And these are children of the King and Queen – your grandchildren. Eldarion is their son, who reigns even now as a fair and just King. And these are their three daughters. All are bound now and have between them eleven children.”

Elrond chose the next group and held up the portrait.

“This is Elladan, is it not El-nin?” Celebrían asked. “I can tell by the intensity in his eyes. He was ever the more gregarious of the two. His natural exuberance is well-portrayed. His brother knew him well.”

“Aye it is so,” answered Celeborn, “and this is his wife, Gilwen of the Northern Dunedain and their children, Elbaranor his son, and his daughter, Giliath. They too are both bound and have given you five great- grandchildren.

“So, I have 16 great-grandchildren? And we have not yet heard of Elrohir’s family.”

As she laid down the pictures of Elbaranor and Giliath under their parents, Galadriel reached for the top portrait on the remaining stack. She handed it to her daughter and Celebrían drew a deep breath.

“And this is Elrohir. He was more contemplative than his brother and I can see that here. For in his eyes the light shines inwardly, but they sparkle in happiness nonetheless. Is this a self-portrait?”

“Nay,” answered Celeborn, as he reached for the pictures from Elrohir’s pile. “This is Elrohir’s wife, Morfael of the Rohirrim, and his children.” His eyes twinkled as he laid out the next two portraits.

“These are Elrohir’s twin sons, Elfalawe and Elfadre. It was Elfalawe who created the picture of his adar. And this is their daughter Elveyen. They too are bound and have between them eight children – a pair of twins among them.”

“So my fair daughter,” added Galadriel, “You have 24 great-grandchildren.”

Celebrían laughed and then paused and she and Elrond both lingered over the portraits.

“This is a magnificent gift, my dear father and I thank you most heartily. To know that Elrohir touched these parchments…” and her voice trailed off as she fingered them lightly.

“And this is for when you are alone together later, “said Celeborn handing Elrond a large envelope. “I have others to give you, but this should come first.”

Elrond took the packet and recognized Elladan’s handwriting on the outside of the folio.

“For Adar and Naneth.”

Setting it aside, Elrond refilled their glasses and the four lapsed into companionable conversation.

An hour or so later, they were called to dinner. Elrond and Celeborn led the way and before she left, Celebrían gathered the portraits and carried them with her to the dining area.

As the four came into the room they found Glorfindel and Erestor already there. Greetings were exchanged and hardly a minute more had passed when Celebrían held out the packet she carried.

“Look, Erestor and Glorfindel. Look at what father has brought.”

She handed the folio to Erestor who opened it carefully, looked at each portrait, and then passed it to Glorfindel. Celeborn named the ones the Elf-lords did not know and Celebrían broke in excitedly.

“We have 24 great-grandchildren! And a pair of them twins! That makes four generations of twins in our family.”

Elrond sat quietly. While not uninterested in the proceedings and while adding a polite comment here and there, his thoughts were elsewhere. He absently fingered the package he held on his lap. “For Adar and Naneth.”

Dinner was served and the six chatted amiably. Celeborn talked of the happenings in Endor and Glorfindel and Erestor told of Valinorean events. The pair spoke of their travels and the work they had done since their arrival. The hour grew late and after small glasses of Murivor, which outdid even the Imladrian vintage, the six retired for the night.

Galadriel and Celeborn were pleased at Celebrían’s acceptance of her children’s fate. They were concerned about Elrond, for he was overly quiet throughout the evening, but both were convinced that he would eventually come to terms with the twins’ choice. Tired from their journey and drained by the day’s events, the pair easily slipped into reverie.

Celebrían had taken the portraits with her to their rooms and once there spread them out, this time across the bed. She considered them again, slowly moving her hands from one of her children to their spouse to their children, tracing the families as if to better know them. After placing Elladan’s package on the side table, Elrond watched from across the room. He had poured himself a glass of fortified wine, which tended to calm him in turbulent times.

Finally, he walked toward the bed and took Celebrían’s hands in his own.

“They will still be here on the morrow, meleth-nin – my love. Please get some rest.”

“You are right, herven-nin – my husband. It is just…”

“I know, amaelamin – my beloved.” And with her, looked one more time and then helped her to gather them up and put them in the portfolio. He placed it on the table next to his wife and drew down the covers to help her get in.

He covered her gently and bent down to kiss her.

“Amin mela lle – I love you. Sleep well.” He said.

“Amin mela lle – I love you, El-nin.” She responded in kind. Elrond sat with her a while, stroking her head.

Elrond got up from the bed. He noticed Elladan’s packet on the table and turned to share it with Celebrían, but she was deep into reverie. He took his glass and moved out to the balcony where Ithil shone brightly that night. Eärendil also watched over his son and between them gave off enough light to illuminate the package Elrond held in his hands.

“To Adar and Naneth.”

He smoothed over the writing with his hands and with trembling fingers began to unwind the string that held it together. Laying the folio open, he found a letter in his son’s hand and a small book.

Taking another sip from his glass, he placed the package on the nearby table and took the letter into his hands. He began to read…

To Adar and Naneth does Elladan of Imladris send greetings:


Chapter 4 - Elladan's Tale: Part One

AN HEROIC LOVE




Chapter Four

Elladan’s Tale




To Adar and Naneth does Elladan of Imladris send greetings:

By now, you are aware of the choice that Elrohir and I made. Please know that for both of us, it was neither a painless nor ill-considered decision. Also know before anything else that but for your inevitable sorrow, we were both happy and content with the choice that we made. The reasons are many, and you will read them all in due course, but for my part, it was the love of a woman that at last sealed my fate.

Adar, you knew her, or knew of her, for it was Gilwen of the Dunedain who captured my heart. At one time she and her kin found refuge in Imladris when their settlement was besieged by orcs. And I had seen her at times when Elrohir and I rode with her father, Gilbarad and the Rangers of the North. Apparently, she had noticed me and liked what she saw.

Soon after you departed, we met again. I was about Elessar’s business helping to rebuild Arnor and I had permitted Imladris to be used as a place of meeting for the Councilors of the North Kingdom. Gilwen’s father was one of those who rode with us to Rohan and upon his return, and ours, set to work along with many of his kin in the reestablishment of Annúminas as capital of the northern realm.

Many were the times Gilwen accompanied her father to Imladris and she was a great help to us. She was by nature and talent a scholar and organizer and she did much with her quill and her mind to help keep all of our endeavors in good order. Our friendship grew and in a matter of time it deepened and turned into something more. I came to love her and she loved me. For a long time she had loved me and bided her time, a strange thing for a mortal, I thought.

But I will let her tell it. The small book that I have sent is her journal. She wrote in it periodically and I have marked the pages that relate to our relationship. This is the best way, I think, for you to come to know her as best you can and have no doubt that her love for me was as strong as mine for her. Not as Elrond’s son did she love me, and not as Lord of Imladris, nor as orc-killer or as brother of Elrohir or even of the King. You will come to see as she saw through her writings.

She had given me permission to send this to you even though it does contain some most personal accounts. Those I have clearly marked and though I have no objection to you or mother’s reading of them for they show the height of our love, I will leave it to your discretion.

With that, I ask that you read her words before returning to mine. I have noted under an entry or two the things on which I have comment and you can return to this letter then…


Elrond placed the letter on the table before him and sipped at his wine while he thought of his son. Silently getting up from his chair, he made his way to Celebrían’s bedside table and took hold of the portfolio of portraits she had laid there. Moving back to the balcony, he slipped the likenesses of Elladan and Gilwen out of the folder and placed them on the table while he considered them. He then took up the small black book and noted the date of the first marked entry. Four years before the great war. His mind returned to that time as he read…


GILWEN’S JOURNAL
First Entry
TA 3015, The Angle

Perhaps it is a gift of Eru or the Valar – a gift to the remnant of the Faithful of Numenor, that in the face of all else, a glimmer of hope still underlies the sober practicality of our lives. Today I was blessed by the reawakening of that hope and I reel expectant, buoyant, enlivened by the possibility that we will see the end of these dark days. I saw it myself in the fiery eyes of an elf.

He rode into our settlement with father and several other Rangers and at first I thought he was one of them. All had dismounted and his back was turned to me. When he removed the hood of his cloak and I saw his dark hair, albeit longer than most, he looked as any other. Even when he removed the cloak fully it was hard to discern his race. He was clad all in black; tunic, legging and boots, and though slightly taller and lither, seemed no different than many others of our kindred.

And then he turned around, and I took a long breath. He was so like but so unlike any Ranger I have seen. His clothes bespoke a Ranger, and his weaponry. His form was full in the shoulders and tapered to a slim waist and powerful legs. A warrior’s body.

But his face. His face was as fair as a child’s and as hairless. His nose was long, but fine and the philtrum was prominent as if steering my sight to his beautiful mouth. His lips are as full and as bowed as a babe’s. Slightly parted, and I saw his breath as he exhaled.

But oh Eru, it is his eyes that rivet me. Gray, like ours, but then dark and they shine with such fire. I do not know whether it is battle lust or the hard ride or maybe even starlight which fuels such a flame, but I have never seen a being of such vitality.

He moved with practice and confidence. I saw him lay down his pack and his weapons and let out a long sigh. How much he must relish the relative safety of our camp! He bantered lightly with another, so like to him it confused me, but then as he turned slightly, his long hair parted and I saw the small point on his ear.

As I looked from one to the other, I realized then who I looked upon. The tales of the twin sons of Elrond were oft spoke among our people. Their fierceness in battle, their loyalty to the Dunedain, and their protection or our Chieftains over many generations, Lord Aragorn just the latest of these.

These two were Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris; but which was the twin who held fire in his eyes?

I have seen elves before – those messengers from Rivendell or Mithlond or the wanderers in traveling companies that traverse our lands. They are tall and thin and reserved.

But this elf was not like to them. He is formidable – in body, in spirit. He holds fire in his being and I am captivated.

Later I learn that it was Elladan who had captured my attention. His brother is beautiful also and I can tell, gentle and kind, but there is a vivacity about the elder twin that animates my thoughts this night and makes it hard for me to sleep.

I give thanks to Eru for bestowing on me, on us, this glimmer of hope, of life, of a possible end to this darkness…


Elrond sat back in his chair and tried to picture his son as Gilwen did. It was true that of the two, Elladan possessed a certain vitality, a sureness of purpose, the need to know and enjoy all of the gifts of Endor. He was a natural leader with a comity that his more introspective brother lacked. Elladan was also practical by nature and well-organized, traits Elrond recognized as like to Elros as to himself. He thought it no wonder that a girl of the Dunedain would be taken with him. He took up the book and read more…


GILWEN’S JOURNAL
Second Entry
TA 3017, Imladris

Our settlement was beset by orcs this day and hurriedly we made our escape to this refuge. The scouts had given us plenty of warning, but there were too many of the foul creatures for us to fend off, so we took flight, deserting our home and coming to the only place of sure safety in the northlands: Rivendell.

The way into the elven realm was all but hidden, and perilous. The steep descent was laden with switchbacks and the trail was narrow. We came through the trees at the head of the path and The Last Homely House came into my sight. I was awe-struck, it was so beautiful and at one with its surroundings – I have never seen its like before.

The buildings seemed to emanate from the very land itself. Carved pillars and balconies, open porches and gazeboes, all but unseen within the rocks and trees, grasses and gardens. And scattered throughout were waterfalls and small streams, which winded their way through the valley and its structures.

The vista before me and the endless soothing sounds of flowing water was as a balm to my soul and for the first time in days uncounted, I feel as if I can truly breathe.

We were welcomed by Lord Elrond, who is an elf of such majesty that it is difficult to look upon him. A world shown in his eyes, the ages made manifest in such a short glance. He is a serious elf, as well he should be under such circumstance, but he evinced such a kindness it made feel utterly safe and welcome in this realm.

Standing beside the great lord were the brethren Elrondion. It has been two years since I last saw them. They were both dressed alike, in ranger black but for their jerkins which were the deepest of midnight blue. Their obsidian hair was plaited in one large braid which was knotted in back and hung down to their waists. With the hair held back this way, their facial features were enhanced. Their skin was pulled taut over cheeks and jaw, the latter set firmly in the image of their sire.

Their lips were drawn in a tight line, neither frowning nor smiling, but it could not conceal the fullness of the bottom or the perfect bow of the top. And their noses were faultless in length and in broadness and I could picture the brothers in battle, nostrils flaring.

I then beheld their eyes, the silver gray of the Peredhil, made all the more prominent by the surrounding ebon hair and dark clothing. It was a magnificent combination and though our people too have gray eyes and dark hair, ours is neither so dark nor are our eyes so mithril.

My own eyes darted back and forth between them trying to discern the elder and then I saw the small flicker which told me indeed who was Elladan. He was casting his sight throughout our small assembly when his eyes alighted on mine. For a moment, the small flicker sharpened and passed into my being with naught but a glance. He cocked his head for a moment, brow furrowing and then his eyes moved away and through the rest of our midst.

We were made comfortable in a small set of cottages near the eastern border of Rivendell and the next few days were spent in the very living of it – bathing and clothes cleaning, eating, caring for the younger ones all the while planning for our return to our home. The twins paid one visit, wherein formal introductions were made. Father was the one who escorted them around our cottages and they came upon me as I was recording our exile and keeping the ledgers of our meager stores.

Here I recreate the ensuing conversation as best as I recall it.

“Ah, there you are,” said father as he turned to the brethren. “She is ever found with her nose in a book or with a quill in her hand.”

“Elladan, Elrohir, this is my daughter, Gilwen. She was seven and ten years of age when first you visited our settlement and now counts nineteen years of the sun.”

The twins regarded me, Elrohir looking over my shoulder at what I had written.

“So you are a scholar, then?” he asked.

“Not necessarily, though I do love books and tales, my Lord,” I replied. “I do what I can at need for our people. Today, this is my task.”

“You are writing of your people’s plight, my Lady?”

“Yes, I chronicle our people’s history, keep ledgers and sometimes I even write for myself. I enjoy the feel of the quill against my fingers and flow of ink across the page. I thank you for your inquiry, Lord Elrohir.”

“How did you know my brother’s name?” asked the elder twin, turning his attention to me. “How did you know that he is Elrohir?”

“Because I know that you are Lord Elladan.” was my reply. I sought the flame in his eyes and having seen the small spark, I let them drop to the scroll I was working on.

Slightly taken aback, Elladan responded, “So you have insight as well, my Lady, for few even among our own household can tell us apart.”

I smiled up at him and shrugged my shoulders, “It is not so hard a thing, my Lord, if one just watch for a while.”

“So, you have been watching me…us?”

Before he could finish the thought, father drew him away to meet with some others, but as he walked away, Elladan glanced back over his shoulder, a quizzical smile on his face.

We will soon leave the sanctuary of Rivendell, I think. Our home in the Angle is now as secure as it ever was, but it is even clearer to me now that these unsettled times will not last. I saw it for myself in the purposeful eyes of an Elf-lord and no less in the tenacious eyes of his son…


Elrond rubbed the bridge of his nose, looked at Gilwen’s portrait, and tried to remember her sojourn in Imladris. Try as he might, he could not recall her specifically, though he did recall her father as one who rode with Aragorn often. There were so many who were sheltered at The Last Homely House. He squinted again, then decided that he as a very old elf and tired. He put down the book and took himself to bed, laying at Celebrían’s side. Though his mind reeled, the Elf-lord fell into reverie more quickly and soundly than he had in many days.


Chapter 5 - Elladan's Tale: Part Two

AN HEROIC LOVE


Chapter Five

Elladan’s Tale Part Two



The next morning, Elrond wanted nothing more than to read Elladan’s missive and Gilwen’s journal, but he had promised Celeborn that he would show him Imlothien, so he roused himself fully, stretched his arms and rose from the bed.

Waking Celebrían, he told her of what he had read and pressing the letter and journal into her hands, made for the bathing chamber to ready himself for the day. Celebrían held them and with a mysterious smile reminiscent of her mother’s placed them on the bed. As anxious as she was to look at them, she knew that this was for Elrond to do first. She held her hand over her heart for a moment, then touched the small book and whispered a prayer for her husband, “May you find peace, herven-nin.”

Already awake, Celeborn and Galadriel made their way down the long marble stairs to the private dining room where they would break their fast. Celebrían met them, eyes shining still at the sight of her father, and excitedly spoke of the plans for the day. She was eager to show her mother a tapestry she was working on and the new growth in the gardens. She also wanted to take Elrohir’s portraits to the woodworkers to arrange for their proper framing.

Elrond spoke to his father-in-law of Imlothien’s grounds and Celeborn was pleased to note that Elrond seemed well-rested and there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he spoke of his Valinorean home.

Soon after the meal, Celebrían and her mother took themselves to the gardens, while Elrond led Celeborn to the library. Elrond was proud to show his father-in-law this part of the house for here Elrond had amassed the most all-encompassing collection of history and general tomes to be found in the whole of Ea. It was even grander than the library of Imladris, with books and shelves reaching the tall ceilings and set-in to every wall. Various elves moved between them, removing books that were needed, re-shelving those which were returned, and amidst them all stood Erestor.

Tall and implacable, the dark haired scholar watched over the proceedings, instructing a student here and directing an assistant there. Celeborn smiled at the sight.

“Erestor, I think you have found your bliss. A vast library, as many quills and as much parchment as you would like, and students to teach. What more could an elf of your talents require?”

“Very little,” answered the advisor, a secretive smile crossing his lips. “Mae govannen, Celeborn. Are you ready to talk with me now? I have much to ask you of the days since our crossing.”

“You are so anxious, my friend. Truly, we will have time to talk, but Elrond is familiarizing me with this flowering valley and I cannot stop now. Later, Erestor. You have my promise.”

With that, the Lord of Imlothien and his father-in-law moved off, finishing the tour of the first floor; its classrooms and dining areas, great halls and kitchens. They found themselves outside of the house, Elrond leading the way through the convoluted pathways and glades that circumscribed the land of Imlothien.

Soon they came upon a small cottage, nestled hard by a hill and even somewhat built into it. Elrond opened the door and beckoned Celeborn to follow, warning the tall ellon to watch his head as the ceilings were low. Inside, Celeborn noted the small tables and chairs, the low built hearths and clothes hooks and it dawned on him then that he stood in the residence of the perianneth.

“Yes,” said Elrond. “This is where Bilbo and Frodo dwelt, and later Sam when he came to join his friend.”

“Galadriel has told me their healing, Elrond.” replied Celeborn. “I am glad they found peace.”

“Aye, that they did.” answered Elrond. “It was most satisfying to see Bilbo’s eyes all alight as they were when I first saw him so many years ago. He was ever the adventurer and I think he quite enjoyed his few years amongst our kind in this land. For Sam’s part, the minute he saw Frodo his healing was near to complete. As for Frodo, it took many years to come into his contentment. He visited Lórien frequently and partook of Estë’s healing waters. Celebrían and I did what we could and it came to be that he was eventually free of his yearning and physical pains. Ere he passed, he found happiness. Galadriel and Mithrandir helped, and eventually all of us came to terms with loss of the rings. Do you not see the change in your wife?”

“Aye, that I do and gladly,” answered Celeborn. “You say the perianneth have now left this place. Show me.”

Elrond ushered Celeborn outside and closed the door carefully. He led the silver-haired ellon down a short path and into a small copse of trees. There he stopped and pointed to three small stones. On one, a pipe and a book and a traveling cloak had been carved and bore witness to Bilbo’s life and the things that he loved. On another were carved flowers and leaves and in the center a tall mallorn, that was for Sam. And on the third no motives were struck, but a few simple words, “Frodo Baggins, Ring-Bearer and Hero of The Third Age.” On all, the final line simply read, “Elvellon.”

Celeborn was much moved and stood silent for a while. Elrond found himself touched by Celeborn’s reverence and offered up words.

“It was not so sad, at their end, Celeborn. Bilbo was old and tired, and ready to rest. Twelve years after his arrival, he slipped contentedly into his long sleep, and though we all mourned, we keep him in memory and speak of him often. He was so proud that he had lived quite a bit longer than any other perian and made sure we all knew it, even if the Shire folk never would.” Elrond ended with a small chuckle.

“What of Frodo and Sam?” asked Celeborn.

“Frodo abided for many years after and between his sojourns to Lórien and Tirion, busied himself by helping Erestor and me as well as writing for himself. He believed strongly that Sam would come and when he did arrive, their reunion was joyful and Frodo’s healing complete. They lived here happily for 27 years more before they accepted the Gift.”

“They passed together?” asked Celeborn.

“Yes.” answered Elrond. “I came upon them one morning, laying side-by-side in their silence. They had laid themselves down on that hill over there and upon the sunrise took leave of this world. Their smiles, even in death, were so innocent and so bereft of pain, that I wept for the sheer beauty of them.”

Elrond’s eyes briefly watered at recalling that day and Celeborn moved closer. Reaching out to place an arm about Elrond’s shoulder, he replied,

“Aye, it is so.”

A knowing look passed between them and Elrond understood the information that Celeborn had shared with his comment. He would not ask now, but soon enough he would hear the tale of the passing of his sons. He wondered how it was, but Celeborn’s assurance comforted him for the time being.

The pair left the copse in amiable silence and went back to the house where Galadriel and Celebrian met them and together they shared the mid-day meal. They parted after and Elrond went to his chambers, there to retrieve the letter and journal. He took them up and bore them to his small private study and sitting himself down, began to read Gilwen’s journal once more…







GILWEN’S JOURNAL
Third Entry
FA 1 (May), The Angle

What a joyful day this has been! Father has returned after nearly five months away, bearing news of The Great Enemy’s defeat and the coronation of Lord Aragorn. What rejoicing has taken place amongst our people! And I am so happy.

These past years have been so harsh, so unsettled. The remnant of our people have never had a home to call our own and our continuous movement and watchfulness had worn on us all. The men were away so often that there was never a sense of order and we lived day-to-day as if our only purpose on Arda was simply to stay alive.

Five months previous, Elladan and Elrohir had once more ridden into our settlement. They had been charged with recruiting what Rangers they could to ride with them to war. Father stood forth and offered his sword, but I was loathe to see him go. He is all I have – no brothers or sisters and mother long deceased, and I saw the fey look in the eyes of the twins and I knew the gravity of what they had asked. I pled with him not to go, but then Elladan quieted me with a hand to my arm.

I spun around to face him and I am sure he saw the fear and determination in my eyes. He held on to my wrist firmly and was still for a moment. My glare was met with an equally resolute visage as he tried to calm me with words.

“Lady Gilwen, Aragorn has need of his kin. You know how important this is. We are nearing the culmination of this long war and we must all play our part. My brother and I ride willingly and we ask no more of others than we do of ourselves. If it is any comfort to you, know that your father rides under Halbarad’s banner and not that of elves.”

“It is not that,” I retorted. “We have ever trusted you and your kin. It is just…”

“Hush,” answered Elladan, gently. “It will be well. I know not what doom is before us, but if it is within my power, your father will return to you. This I promise and the will of Elladan of Imladris is not to be gainsayed, with all due respect, My Lady.”

At his he bowed low to me and I could not help but let out a small giggle; imagine – an Elf-prince – bowing to me!

As he straightened, the gleam shone in his eyes as they rose to meet mine and then he said,

“And you will see me again, Gilwen of the Dunedain, for your spirit and talents intrigue me and I would know you better.”

He took his hand from my wrist and lifted my chin, as he spoke,

“Do you know the name we called Aragorn when he was young? It was Estel, and you know what that means because you can speak in our tongue. Hope, Gilwen. And Hope he still is. We are. As long as we fight and trust to the Valar, there is hope. Fear not. Make ready for our return and the work that will then be before us.”

Now becalmed, I remained momentarily in his thrall and the glint in his eyes flashed into mine.

“I believe you.” I answered. “And in return I promise this, Elladan of Imladris – we will be ready upon your return. Now I deem both of you should go, ere I change my mind.”

He gave me a reassuring smile and briefly grasped both of my arms in affirmation.

“I promise,” he whispered and then turned to join his brother. Father then made ready to join them and it was the last I saw of him for these long five months.

Now father has returned and tells me that though many have perished, Halbarad among them, the twin sons of Elrond still live but would linger with the King for a while.

The King, now called Elessar, has appointed my father in Halbarad’s stead as Captain of the Dunedain in the north. I am so proud of him. He tells me that soon we shall remove to Annúminas there to begin its rebuilding. It will take much work and I will do my part, but for now my heart rejoices.

And there is some small part of me that remembers Elladan’s words and his fiery spirit, that is grateful for promises kept and looks forward to his return also. I made a vow to the Elf-prince and I intend to keep it. I was ready for father’s return and the work to be done and I will be ready for the the elf’s return also. Estel, indeed…

Here Elladan appended several comments…

It is true, Adar and Naneth. Gilwen had made an impression on me. Her life was so austere and even small comforts hard to come by, but still she displayed such a strength and determination that it was easy to admire her. The foresight of the Dunedain ran strongly in her and as you have already noted, she was learned. Despite the lack of a library of Imladris’ caliber, she had somehow managed to learn and understand the history of her people and some of the elves and she spoke Sindarin as well as any of our kind, albeit with Adûniac inflection.

She was quite comely also. Like most of her kin, she had pewter gray eyes that sometimes showed blue, sometimes darker and her hair was so dark a brown as to look almost black. I had not yet seen it unbound for it was her wont to wear it in one long dark braid, a practical measure as I later learned. And while she was not elven beautiful – as Arwen was and you, Naneth or grandmother – she was lovely just the same. Her body just slightly more robust than that of our sister. She reminded me of none so much as Aragorn, as well she would, but in female form.

I was intrigued, as I had not been with any female, elleth or mortal in the whole of my life and as you will see, kept my promise to her…


Chapter 6 - Elladan's Tale: Part Three

AN HEROIC LOVE


Chapter Six

Elladan’s Tale Part Three



GILWEN’S JOURNAL
Fourth Entry
FA 2 Annúminas


For nearly a year and half we have lived in Annúminas and the city is emerging from all its long years of abandonment and neglect. Most of our people have converged here and we have enjoyed the task of setting things to rights. I hear tell the Shire folk have called the past year or so The Great Year of Plenty and it is true. Never in my life have the farmed crops grown so well or yielded so much and new or restored buildings arise with regularity.

The men rarely ride out anymore, only to scout or contest the small pockets of orcs that remain, and we are slowly making the transition from small distinct bands of scattered folk to a larger society. It is interesting to meet so many of our distant kin and slowly but surely we are all finding our places in this new world.

I have been assisting my father in any way possible in this great work. My primary task in the last year was to keep a census of our people. As each small group arrived I would meet them, take down their names and help them to find suitable, if perhaps temporary living quarters and see that they were employed in some livelihood that would support their own families and contribute to the well being of the city.

Many nights I have toiled in ordering these records and in keeping ledgers of food stores and updating maps of the city as new buildings arose. I have had almost no time for myself but what little I do I have put to use in creating the beginnings of a small library for the use of our people.





Some nights I walk the shore of Lake Evendim, enjoying the rippling of the waves and the clear starry sky. It is at these times that I think about my future and wonder if marriage and children are in the offing for me. As it is, there are many more women than men of marriageable age and my duties keep me from getting to know most of them.

Oft times my thoughts return to the elder son of Elrond. I look for the same fire in the eyes of our men, or the same sense of possibility or excitement and I see it not. They all seem to be intimidated by me – whether it is because of my stubborn strength of mind or my father’s position I know not, but my thoughts often stray toward the elf.

He said he would return and he wished to know me better. He had kept part of his promise with the safe return of my father and I did not doubt the other, but nearly two years have past and perhaps it may seem as a blink of an eye to an elf, but it felt a long time to me. Despite my outward display of determined concentration, I was fitful inside.

I was coming to believe even more that Elladan was my match – in both strength and wit, but I held back much of my thought – was he not an elf? Then I would hearken back into history – Beren and Luthien, Tuor and Idril – and the history made even now. Was not the King wed to Elladan’s sister? My own mind warred within itself between the seeming impossibility of such a match and the glimmer of hope that my heart could not cast loose.

It was one of these nights, whilst I was strolling the quiet shore, that I espied a lone rider off in the distance. At first, I was frightened, and started to run, but as the rider came closer I saw his right hand raised and heard him call out,

“Daro! Dartha! – Stop! Wait!”

He soon came upon me and then I recognized the horse and its rider. It was Elladan. He had kept his promise and I felt hope rise in my chest and I was glad it was dark and he could not see my blush.

He brought his horse up next to me and gracefully dismounted, bringing his right leg up and over and then sliding off. Breathlessly and with a slight incline of his head, he said my name.

“Lady Gilwen.”

“Lord Elladan.” I smiled back.

He was dark as the night, but the light of his grand-sire glinted off of his eyes and his skin shone fair as he smiled back.

“I am just come from Imladris with news for your father; welcome news, I think, and I would make good the promise I made these two years past. May I walk with you?”

“Oh, yes.” I answered much too quickly, but then saw his shoulders relax as he matched his pace with mine.

“Tell me, what news for my father?”

“My brother…I mean, the King has appointed him a Councillor of the North Kingdom and even more than that, Prince and Lord of Arnor, if he will accept it.”

“Oh,” I replied with a sharp intake of breath, my thoughts racing. It was wonderful news for father of course; a just reward for all his long years of service and loyalty, but still I wondered what this required of me. Would my work change? Would even more be expected of me?

I think Elladan read my thoughts for he reached his hand out to mine, and taking it said,

“You need not fret. Your life is still your own is it not? Yes, it will be different for you but I have learned that change is inevitable and not all unwelcome. Should we have lived under the Shadow for ever? You will see Imladris again, for the council has been called there two months hence and I bid your father to bring you with him. We have need of your skills, fair Lady. And, I would make good also on the second part of my promise. I would know you better, if you would allow it.”

“Yes, I would allow it.” I answered but I dared not let my eyes meet his. “And I will look forward to seeing Lord Elrond’s fine house again, for there I felt content as I have nowhere else. How fare you, Lord Elladan?”

“It has been both bitter and sweet for me, my Lady. My father has departed these lands and sailed west, along with many from our household. The management of Imladris is now left to me and I find it more difficult than I ever imagined.”

“But what of Elrohir?” I inquired.

Laughing, Elladan responded,

“He has found love, my fair Lady, with a woman of the Rohirrim, and has removed therefore to the land of the horse lords. I have never seen him so light of spirit and content. He has belayed his fey countenance in favor of that of a healer, scholar and artist. I do miss him though.”

My heart soared at this news. I was happy for Elladan’s brother, of course, but if Elrohir would wed a mortal woman…

“Will you sail also?” I asked.

“I have not yet made that decision. I still have some time to think on it. And now, fair Lady, nay, fair Princess, shall I escort you back to your father’s house?

“Thank you Lord Elladan, but please do not call me Princess. I am simply Gilwen of the Dunedain and daughter of Gilbarad and proud enough of that.”

“And I would wish you forswear my title as well Gilwen, and call me Elladan, if it would please you.”

“Of course. Elladan,” I replied and then I noticed that in all of our conversation, Elladan had not dropped my hand. He then took it away and beckoned me to ride with him. He helped me onto his horse and then jumped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Nestling into his warm embrace and the safety of his arms, we rode together back to the house.

He stayed two days more, most of it enmeshed in meetings with father, but the day before he left he asked me to dine with him and then ride out on the shores of Lake Evendim. I was pleased by the invitation and quickly accepted.

I learned much more about him that night, and I learned also more about father, for we spoke of the Ring-Quest and of the deeds of the Grey Company. Elladan told me of Rohan and Umbar, of the Pelannor Fields and the Morannon.

But what I saw most as we spoke together that night was the kindness and gentility that he possessed. As eager as I was to know all of the tale, I can tell he was selective in all that he told. And although I wished to disprove this impression that I was some fair flower to be spared such dark detail, I found I enjoyed, even reveled, in his kind regard for me.

We laughed often and many times I saw the glimmer in those deep eyes grow to the flame that had so first enchanted me. Upon our return to the house, he took leave of me, but not before he had taken both of my hands in his and spoke.

“Gilwen, I wish you to know what this evening has meant to me. I have not felt so light-hearted in many a day and for that, I thank you. I very much look forward to your visit to Imladris and I hope you will deign to spend time with me there.”

“Uma, – yes.” I answered in his own tongue, “I would very much like that, Elladan, and to see more of Imladris as well. When I was there three years ago, I found it the most tranquil place I had ever seen and have longed to return. Yes, I look forward to that, and to seeing you again.”

I smiled up at him as he moved his hands to my shoulders. He sighed out a long breath and drew me closer and I moved into his warm embrace.

Yes, I thought, Yes. This is where I belong, where I feel safe, where I feel untouched by my burdens and long years of toil. I knew at that moment that I was his, if the Valar should bless it, and as we said our goodnights, I found myself floating…
As Elrond sat reading, Celeborn finally spoke with Erestor, and Celebrían and her mother walked the many gardens of Imlothien. They talked of many things, but none so much as the twins and Arwen. Galadriel had been somewhat surprised by the equanimity with which her daughter had taken the news, and was curious.

“Tell me, Celebrían,” she began, “How is it with you? Truly, I had anticipated that you would grieve mightily, and though I see some sorrow in your eyes, it is remembrance that I see even more. Do you not mourn?”

“Oh Naneth, of course I do, but you already know how it is with me. I have lived in the bliss of Valinor a long time now and like you, visited Lórien often. Where once I was broken, after many long years of reflection and acceptance, now I am whole. When I first made the decision to sail west, I grieved. And grieved mightily, as you say. Elladan and Elrohir had already embarked on their missions of vengeance and Elrond only stayed to finish what he had begun. Any of them could reside even now in the Halls of Mandos and I would not see them again or at least not for a long while. I suppose that my grief crested then and now I simply seek to maintain my hard fought contentment. Besides, Elrond has enough sadness for both of us and I would help to assuage it, if he would let me.”

“Even more than that mother, beyond his sorrow, he takes all of the blame on himself. He laments his Peredhil heritage and the choice that it forced on our children. I do not think he ever considered that they would choose the Gift of Men.”

“Did you?” asked Galadriel.

“No, not really.” answered Celebrían. “But I knew when we married that any children we had would face this choice. And their lives could have taken any direction – what with where they lived and with whom they fought.

“Ah yes,” said Galadriel. “We all see things through our own prisms, do we not? His choice of elf-kind was made easily and even now he does not understand his brother’s choice, or his children’s. I hope that through the letters we brought he may begin to see more clearly. And perhaps Celeborn and I could persuade both of you to accompany us on our journey south. Elrond should go to Lórien, Cel-nin.”

“Perhaps we will, Naneth, if we can get Elrond to leave his work here.”

Galadriel laughed at this, finding humor in Elrond’s ever present commitment to duty and work.






“Here we are in Aman, with an eternity before us and all Elrond can think of is work that needs to be done. My daughter, Elrond chose elf-kind but he has not yet found full expression in elvendom. Maybe it is time he learned to live as an elf in Valinor, joyful in all that surrounds us. Yes. I think it is time that Elrond learned what his own choice meant – as well as that of his children. I will ponder this more and speak with your father. We will help him find his contentment, Cel-nin. ”

“Mother,” Celebrían answered, “I do think it is true that part of our task involves this, but also a true appreciation for all of Illuvatar’s gifts – including the Secondborn. Did you not teach me that we are both the creation of Eru’s own mind and hence find equal merit? We must endeavor to have Elrond come to this on his own. Your know this. He is a most strong-willed elf, mother.”

At this, both mother and daughter smiled knowingly, and with hope in their hearts proceeded along their walk.

Meanwhile, Elrond pondered all he had read thus far. He had not considered that Elrohir would be the first to choose. His younger son seemed to him more contemplative and more cautious than his elder brother. And his instincts were good, which generally tempered his brother’s more audacious ventures. Elrohir smoldered while Elladan blazed. And yet, the younger twin held also a certain spark of spontaneity within him, a creativity that found its expression in the healing arts and his painting.

Elrond wondered, and not for the first or last time, whether he had really known his children at all. How could he have not foreseen their final choice? Did he not do everything he could to prevent it? Thoughts started to unravel in his mind, back to his own parents, whom he had barely known and then Maglor, whose place in his life was still not a settled thing in his mind.

He shook his head then, clearing his mind from such circling thoughts and once more took up Gilwen’s journal…




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Chapter 7 - Elladan's Tale: Part Four

AN HEROIC LOVE



Chapter Seven

Elladan’s Tale Part Four





GILWEN’S JOURNAL
Fifth Entry
FA 2 Imladris

How different this visit to Imladris is from my first. Where once we came in stealth and fear, this time we rode openly and were met on the path by Elladan himself. He strode forth, welcoming father and me, and grasped the reins of my horse as he walked with us to the gates of the house.

I will never forget my first glimpse of him. His boots and leggings were black, but this time he wore a white tunic, cuffed at the wrists, but with billowing sleeves and two ties at the neck. His hair flowed down his back, and was held at the sides by two small braids that were held together by a mithril clip in the form of an owl.

He led us to the house, a wide smile upon his face and spoke excitedly about the events that would occur over the next few days. He told us that hobbits would be in attendance, as well as some dwarves and laughed when my eyes widened at the prospect of meeting such folk.

When we arrived at the front steps I hesitated for a moment. When last we were here I had only seen the house at arm’s length and this time I wanted to be still for a time and look more closely. I think Elladan understood my brief pause and allowed me the time to orient myself.

Finally though, he offered me his arm and he drew us inside, and while walking the long entranceway pointed out the rooms as we passed. I saw the Hall of Fire, which he explained was a central meeting place where tales were told and music was played. He showed us the dining area and a few smaller alcoves but stopped at the last door. This, he explained was the way to the library, but he asked father’s leave to take me there later. They both knew that the library was the place I most wanted to see and I sensed a small conspiracy in making me wait.


At last, Elladan led us to the grand stairway and took us upstairs to show us to our rooms. First, he took father into a room with a large bed and wardrobe, and a small table and chairs. Off the room was a balcony and at the back a door, which led, Elladan explained, to a private bathing area. The colors were rich, dark blues and here and there were carved flowers of gold. Elladan explained that this had been the room of Lord Glorfindel, who he spoke of with reverence. He promised to later tell me more of the Elf-lord. Though the room itself was lovely and the furniture beautifully wrought, it was the bathing chamber that truly astonished me.

A private bathing area? While we had perhaps one bathing area in our homes at Annúminas, a private one for a single person was unheard of. When Elladan noticed my wonderment, he explained that my rooms also contained one such as this. He was amused, I think, by my delight at what to him must seem such a small thing.

His smile widened as he led us to the room that would be mine for our stay. These, he explained, were rooms fit for a Princess – my eyes narrowed at the title, but he held up a finger bidding me to hold my tongue. Then winking at me, added,

“Or for a Queen, for these were my sister’s rooms when she abided here.”

Like father’s, this room was large and held a fireplace and a canopy bed. There was also a small writing desk, a wardrobe and a small dressing table with a mirror. This room too had a balcony and the door at the back which led to the bathing chamber.

But it was the rich fabrics and colors that held my eyes. Surrounding the bed were curtains of burgundy velvet and on the bed a coverlet of various patches – brocades of light pink and gold, celery green silk and the same burgundy velvet as the curtains.

There were pillows of the same fabrics and on the walls tapestries, finely woven. The whole feel of the room was of warmth and comfort and I laughed inwardly at the thought that once I took to the bed that evening I might not want to leave it.

He showed me the bathing area and taught me how to use the levers to obtain both hot and cold water. Again, this was something I had not seen. Any hot water that was used in our baths had to be brought in by buckets. I made a note to myself to learn how this was done for I wanted to share this with the people in Annúminas.

Elladan left us to unpack and refresh ourselves and gave us leave to explore the Last Homely House on our own. Of course, father had been here many times and was familiar with the public rooms and the grounds, so he offered to walk with me. Elladan did make one further request – he wished that he himself be the one to show me the library and that he would do after the evening meal.


Once they had left and I found myself alone, I crept onto the bed and lay down for a while. I fingered the rich fabrics and held on to the pillows and I marveled at how things had changed in just a short time. I once slept where I could, on beds made of straw, and now lay on the bed of a Queen.

Once we had rested, father escorted me through the gardens and I felt again the contentment that was so part of my last visit here.

Things had changed of course. No longer did Lord Elrond or other high elves walk these halls and I felt a small pang of sorrow at that, but their presence was felt in the things they had built and left here and there still remained a certain ethereal quality to it all. But unlike my first sojourn where all was serious and still, this time I heard sounds of laughter and conversation in many different tongues and the courtyards and hallways teemed with all races of free folk.

It seemed to me to reflect Elladan himself – full of life and vitality and the promise of a future where hope and peace and renewal abounded.

About an hour before dinner, father deposited me at my door there to ready myself for the evening meal. I grinned widely, remembering that I had brought two new dresses and I knew which one I would wear. I brought it out of the wardrobe and laid it out on the bed. Next to it I placed my clean undergarments and shoes, and finally laid on top the only piece of jewelry I would wear.

Satisfied with the array, I went to the bath and began running the hot water, remembering what Elladan had taught me. He had also invited me to make use of any of the bathing lotions and oils and powders there were lined up on the shelf. I chose one of the more subtle scents, vaguely crisp and refreshing – the smell of athelas. It immediately awakened my senses and I felt invigorated as I sunk down into the warm water.

I found myself giggling and then laughing as I moved through the water, dipping my head into it and swirling my hair – infusing each strand with its strengthening aroma. I then straightened up, wide-eyed at my own lapse of seriousness. I wondered what had come over me, but found I was unable to erase the satisfied grin from my face. Hugging myself and stepping out of the bath, I knew what had come over me and took a deep breath. I stood stock still for a moment while I considered what my heart just admitted.

I found myself blushing and in that moment everything changed for me. I shook my head soundly and tried to come to the present, but I felt as if I were a different person altogether. Slowly I brought the brush to my hair and with long stokes drew it through the dark tresses. It calmed me and as I looked in the mirror and saw my face emerge through the curtain of hair, I could not help but grin wider. My eyes fairly sparkled and I liked what I saw, where I was, what I anticipated.

Hair dry, I got up from the dressing table and donned the undergarments I had laid out. Then came the dress and I laced the sides tightly, cinching the waist. It was made of black silk, which my father had obtained from Mithlond and the bodice scooped just to my cleavage and the long sleeves were slightly flared at the ends. The trim at the neck and the sleeves was of silver thread and here and there a small rayed star was embroidered among the filigree scrollwork. The skirt flared out at the bottom and the hem was slightly longer in back creating a small train. I slipped on the black shoes and finished dressing my hair.

This night I wore it unbound and the brown strands looked even darker than usual. It framed my face nicely; I thought and felt full, clean as it was. The scent of the athelas was released with every stroke of the brush and I was enveloped by its bracing aroma.

At last I slipped the small fillet of silver over the crown of my head and centered the many pointed star that it held in the back. It had been a gift from father and was like to that worn by the Dúnedain Rangers of the North. Satisfied with how it looked, I smoothed the hair under it and got up from the table. A small pot of glimmering silver powder which sat on the table caught my eye and on a whim, I swiped some of it over my eye lids.

I twirled around twice, laughing mirthfully at this new found feeling of girlishness, but was stilled by a knock on the door. My father’s voice boomed from beyond it,

“Are you ready, daughter?”

“I think so, father. Please, come in.”

He opened the door and the look on his face stopped me. I smiled wryly letting my father know that I knew what he saw and with a flourish I took his arm. He too never looked more handsome to me. Dressed in his best Dúnedain black, the star pinned to his shoulder, I thought he looked every inch a Prince of the realm and told him so.

He laughed then and holding me at arm’s length, took a good look. He pronounced me fine, and never did I feel so highly complimented. I laughed as we walked arm in arm to the dining area.

Once we came to the threshold of that great room, I took hold of myself and tried to present a serene face as we entered. Grasping my father’s arm tightly, I drew a long breath and we walked into the room.

For a moment I was taken aback by the gaiety and loudness of the folk there gathered, but then my eyes danced at the sight laid before me. All sorts of free folk talked together; hobbit to dwarf, dwarf to man, elf to hobbit. But then as my eyes drifted left, the noise and all others fell away from my senses as I watched the Lord of Imladris approach us.


Oh Valar. I thought I might drop to my knees, but father’s strong arm and Elladan’s mithril eyes held me fast and as he approached, I felt myself gulp. He held my eyes as he walked and I saw in them a soft recognition. Then he was before us, welcoming father and then stepping back, appraising me mildly. He leaned in then, whispering as he took my arm,

“You are beautiful, Gilwen.”

“And you are handsome, dark Prince.”

And, oh my, he was. Again he wore black, but this time the boots were of soft suede as were his leggings. The tunic was made of black silk and under it he wore an iridescent silver shirt, the tall banded collar framing his face and the fall of obsidian hair. Two small braids held it back and a circlet of mithril rested lightly on his crown. A similar interlinked mithril belt cinched his waist which tightened the fabric around his muscled frame, emphasizing the fine planes and long sinews of his warrior’s body.

He led us to the table, seating father on his right and me on his left. At once, the kitchen doors opened and platters upon platters of foodstuffs were laid before us. I laughed as I heard the small whoops from the hobbit’s table and Elladan explained that there was little that hobbits appreciated more than a fine meal. He pointed out Merry and then Pippin and at last Sam and he assured me that he would make introductions later. He then started naming the dwarves and the elves and the men who were in attendance from Gondor.

I finally bade him to stop as I knew I could not remember them all and he laughed as he poured some more wine in my glass.

The men stood then, leaving their seats to face west and we all silently recited the prayer that had been known to me since childhood.

“Toward Numenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be.”

Once again seated, the platters were passed and the noise rose again, the din of the voices of all free folk rising up through the rafters. It was so joyous to be here, all well met and with a purpose and future in mind.

I was suddenly stilled when under the table I felt a soft hand brushing mine. I turned to its source and looked questioningly into silver gray eyes.

“The meal is nearly over and soon most will retire to the Hall of Fire for music and tales, and while I would not have you miss it, there are other nights that you will be here. Tonight, if you wish it, I would show you the library.”

“Yes, I would like that, Elladan. Very much,” I replied, but my affirmative answer belied the nervousness that I held deep inside. We would be alone together, not for the first time, but with a difference. And it was the difference that so daunted me.

Asking father’s leave, Elladan then offered me his arm. Taking it with a confidence I did not feel, he led me out of the room.

We walked down the hallway, light glimmering from the wall sconces and when we reached the entranceway to the library, Elladan stopped. Stepping behind me, he placed his hands over my eyes and bade me move forward two steps. I shivered at his touch and did as he asked.

“Now, I will remove my hands, but keep your eyes closed. I will light a few candles and then bid you to open them. Are you alright, Gilwen?”

I shook my head yes and felt him move away and heard the small snick of flint meeting flint. I heard him move across the room and I followed the sounds with my head. He bade me to open my eyes but when I did, it was not the books or the statuary or the room itself that I saw. It was Elladan. Framed by two lighted sconces, he looked like nothing but one of the Valar to me.

I shrunk back for a moment, suddenly shaken, but saw his grin widen as he arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. I laughed then and was grateful for his method of diffusing the tension between us.

He chuckled as he explained that such was a trait of his father’s also and many were the times that he and his brother were the recipients of one sternly raised brow.

Finally looking at the room about me, I marveled at all of the alcoves and niches that were filled with books and scrolls. Elladan was sorry he said, that I had not seen the library in its true splendor, for many of the most ancient and rare of the tomes had gone with his father to the West. Still, I loved the look of it and the feel – so much history here - and the welcome smell of old paper and ink.

We moved here and there while Elladan explained the room’s contents and then beckoning me closer, said,

“And I have saved the best for last, Dúnedain Princess, for not only the history of the elves resides here. Allow me to show you some of your own.”

He led me into a hallway, the walls of which were covered by murals. They depicted scenes from the Last Battle of Elves and Men, he explained, and showed me the one of the meeting of Elendil and Gil-Galad at Amon Sûl.


“Ever have our peoples worked together against the Dark Enemy. Even through the years of estrangement, my house and yours have kept the Alliance. And now your Chieftain and my sworn brother is King and we are all reunited once more. Aragorn saw done what Isildur could not and the strength of men has been renewed.”

He showed me the mural of Isildur and the Dark Lord and then turned me around to face a statue holding an empty tray.

“And here lay Narsil Elendil’s sword, broken and untouched for these many years until it was remade and Aragorn took it up and renamed it Andúril. He bears it still and with it opened the pathway for the hobbit’s success and the Great Enemy’s final defeat.”

For a moment I saw a strange resolve pass through Elladan, but it fled quickly as we moved to the courtyard beyond.

Seated now, Elladan held my gaze as he took my hand into his. Ithil-lit eyes bored into mine and I found myself trembling.

We both knew what would come next, but I had never done this before – well, not since I was a child and played innocent games with my friends. I closed my eyes against the feeling that assailed me and then heard his voice, gently calling,

“Gilwen. Gilwen, will you not look at me?”

“I am not sure I can.” I heard myself answer, one eye opening, “I have never, I mean, I do not know…”

“Ah,” he sighed out. “I understand. Please do not fear me, fair Gilwen. I would not hurt you nor ask of you anything you do not want. I merely wish to steal a kiss. Please look at me.”

I opened my eyes and saw the gentleness in his kind regard of me. Taking both of my hands now and holding them lightly, he asked,

“May I?”

“Yes”

And then I felt his lips softly brush mine. A chaste kiss he gave me, so gentle and so light that I barely felt it.

I closed my eyes, expecting more, but then he moved slightly back and I heard his voice at my ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin there,

“Oh no, my fair Gilwen. Your lips are soft and you taste sweet and the way Ithil shines on your hair and your face are most enticing, but I dare no more at this time.”
He rested his cheek against mine for a moment as I sighed a long slow exhalation of breath.

He rose then and held his hand out to me,

“Come my fair Dúnadan, the hour is late and I would not have your father worry for you. We have many days yet to walk and talk together.”

Taking his hand, I got up from the bench and took one last long look at the murals around me.

Elladan gently reminded me that they would still be here on the morrow and also gave me leave to wander the library at my will and to make use of all that I found there.

He walked with me down the long hallway and up the stairs to my room. Here he paused for a moment and I again found my voice,

“This has been wonderful evening for me, Elladan. Already I have seen and experienced more new things than I ever have and well…”

I brought my fingers to his lips and touched them softly as I finished my thought,

“I shall not soon forget what happened this night, and though I am tired, I fear I will find little sleep…”

“Rest well, Gilwen. Think of this as you close your eyes…”

He leaned forward and with mirth in his eyes, again touched my lips with the perfect bow of his own.

He opened the door and gently pushed me inside, saying,

“Now will you sleep?”

“I strongly doubt it,” was my answer.

“Nor will I,” he replied as he walked down the hall…


Chapter 8 - Elladan's Tale: Part Five

AN HEROIC LOVE



Chapter Eight

Elladan’s Tale Part Five



…And I did not sleep much that night, but only partly for the reason that I led Gilwen to believe. For it was that night that I finally came to the decision to be counted among the Secondborn.

I know you would have me choose differently. You have taught me rightly and well to hold elvendom high and I revere the part of me that is an elf. I am proud of my heritage, but as I walked the halls of Imladris that night, I was also proud of the part of me that is a man.

Elrohir and I have lived nearly 3000 years, much of it fighting the long wars with enemies of Light. Grandmother has even called it, “fighting the long defeat.” But that is not what I saw in Imladris that day.

It was not a defeat for the free folk, but a victory. Hard won over many years, but in the end, purchased not solely by the elves, but by a hobbit and the blood and toil of the atani. They – we - rightly celebrated this victory over the shadow and we rejoiced in the renewal that abounds. I wished to be a part of this rebirth and peace, if only for a while.

You have taught me well, father. You taught me of Eru and the Valar and of their great love for all of their children. You told me that Illúvatar gave great gifts to both of the erusen. The gift of limited immortality to the elves and of the gift of the Doom of Men. You told me of your brother and his faith and how it was that men came to fear their gift and through it their eventual loss of nobility.

You also taught me that a remnant of your brother’s folk remained – the faithful of Númenor and that you saw it for yourself in the countenance of Elendil. And I have seen it in the long line of Chieftains we have succored, most especially in our brother, the King. He was not afraid of death, as he proved by his acceptance of the Gift when it was his time.


As I looked into the face of fair Gilwen that night, I understood that while immortality in elvendom may rest in one being, the immortality of men rested in their children and the children’s children. I saw the immortality of Elros and Elendil and all that came before in Gilwen’s eyes and those of her, now my, kin.

I also heard it in the prayer of the Dúnedain. Even the elves do not live truly forever, father. It may be many ages before the world is remade, but you taught me that it would be – at the end. And the elves last only as long as Arda.

“To Númenor that was, to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and ever shall be.”

Ever shall be, father. Ever shall be. We know not what lies beyond the circles of this world, but we do know that it ever shall be. And that Illúvatar gathers the Secondborn to Himself into that great eternity.

It is death to this world truly. But it is but a passage to another, is it not? This you taught me and this I believe.

I have often wondered why you lingered so long in Ennor. Especially after mother’s attack, why did you not gather us all for the voyage West? You knew, as grandmother did, that it was a “long defeat” for the elves, and eventually it would be for men to renew and rebuild, yet you stayed. Why? To fight the Great Enemy? Why not leave men to determine their own fate?

I think I now know why. Your words may have told one tale, but your actions told another. You stayed for the love of Arda – for its peoples – yes, some of them elves, but also for your brother’s heirs, and hobbits and even the dwarves. The whole of the free peoples needed your guidance, your wisdom. Was it not your counsel that ensured the Great Enemy’s final defeat? And for whom? For the heirs of Middle-earth – the Secondborn. For Aragorn. For Arwen. For Elrohir and Gilwen. For me.

I love it also, father. And its peoples. I believe that I have now come into my true inheritance and now I see my children and their children along with those of Elrohir and Arwen strengthening the nobility and the one once proud tradition of the Men of Westernesse.


Did Elrohir’s choice affect my own? How could it not? But it was only one of the considerations in my thought, as you see. And also yes, there was Gilwen. She was my match, father, and my long-awaited fae-mate. For those 3000 years I had not found what you found in our mother. I believe now that she was a gift to me and I wished to spare her the guilt and agony that plagued Aragorn for those many years. I wished to make my choice before even I asked permission to court her.

So it was that night, I took up the Star of the Dúnedain for my own, the one which I wore on the fields of Pelannor, and declared my choice before Eru and the Valar. They have blessed it, I think, for I have lived contentedly for these many years, and I have not had cause to regret it.

After it was done, I went to your rooms for the first time since your departure. I touched the things you touched and as I sat on the bed I pled for your understanding and forgiveness. The Valar know you have suffered enough and I can only hope that being with Mother and in Valinor have assuaged your pain.

Rest well Adar – and Naneth, for I am content and happy with the life I have chosen and I believe that I will see you again…



So engrossed was he in reading Elladan’s account that Elrond had not realized that he had been weeping until teardrops fell on the letter. Quickly brushing them aside, Elrond re-read Elladan’s letter, trying to find a flaw, something that would put to the lie Elladan’s thoughts, but he found he could not. In actuality, Elrond admitted he was proud of the son he had raised.

Elladan’s letter did bring to the fore many of Elrond’s thoughts over the past many years. Especially those of his own choice and that of his brother. He discovered deep within himself many questions that he had yet to answer and felt somehow honored by Elladan’s decisiveness and faith. Elrond was counted among the wisest of elves and many sought his counsel, but at this moment, all he could do was admire the wisdom and bravery of his son and wonder whether all that he had taught him was the truth that resided in his own heart.

Out of his roiling thoughts, Elrond grasped one small thread – he did not wish to live an eternity in doubt and pain. He could do nothing now to alter his children’s choice, but the one thing he could do was begin to take the small steps necessary for his own healing and peace of mind.

Once this thought entered his mind, he found a new resolve and he vowed himself to a certain selfishness, at least for a while. He would find the answers he sought, both for himself and for the sake of Celebrían’s happiness also.




Author’s Note: Sorry for the short chapter. Elladan’s Tale, to the extent it affects Elrond for the purpose of this story is now finished. Many readers/reviewers seem to like Elladan and Gilwen’s story however and I have grown to like them a great deal as well. I am neither a proflific nor quick writer, but I have decided to continue Elladan and Gilwen’s story after this one is finished. It will probably be more highly rated. I will let you know in a future author’s note. Thank you to all that have read and reviewed, especially Rozzan and redhered who have made marvelous comments and suggestions.
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