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

Title: Flame of Gondolin, novella: A Christmas Carol (#4523)
Author: Malinwen
Chapters: 12

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Femme Fatale
Description: Glorfindel sets out to honour his promise - in an ingenious way. Note: as far as I can tell, twelve days is celebrated from Christmas until around January 6th/7th, but I chose to start uploading so that I can finish around Christmas Eve.
Published: 12 Dec 2014
Updated: 23 Dec 2014
Warnings: Christmas fluff
Type: Romance
Characters: Glorfindel, OFC, the usual suspects


Chapter 1 - A Christmas Carol, part I

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn …


FLAME OF GONDOLIN
part 3.5:

A CHRISTMAS CAROL\r\n\r\n


Author: Ami
Type: Romance/Festive
Fandom: LOTR – Alternate Universe – Femme Fatale
Pairing: Glorfindel/OFC, Elrond/Celebrían, a bunch of others
Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Just a lot of Christmas fluff!

Disclaimer:
I do not own the Silmarillion, the Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters of J. R. R. Tolkien, but I do hold credit over Anárië as she is my creation entirely. The story was inspired by many traditional (and a little less traditional) Christmas songs, but is in no way affiliated with them. They will be listed at the end.

This is a short story out of the main six parts of the series, set in the beginning of the Third Age after the end of the Last Alliance. The world as our heroine (and her entourage) used to know has ended; it is the first winter celebration without many of their loved ones, but still a time to count their blessings and thank Erú Ilúvatar and the Valar for all they have been given.

Feedback: always appreciated!

Elvish: will be translated at the end of each chapter, though I promise no perfection.


***


Away in a manger, no crib for His bed\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

Anárië slowly crouched, feeling the muscles in her legs respond to her command, her eyes trained ahead. On the pasture, covered a full foot deep with snow, a handful of horses were busily pawning away and searching for whatever grass was left under the cover of white fluff.

She was only half-interested in the lead stallion, who kept slightly apart and seemed mighty pleased with himself; she only noted him enough to make sure she was not downwind to him, so he could not spot her.

Also, she wasn’t really interested in the mares he had gathered to himself; only some of the stallions roaming free on the pastures of Imladris became leaders like this, and some preferred to run free until they were called upon, or had to be caught. It really did not surprise her that Glorfindel’s current mount would be one of the exceptions, and thus a leader. He had been a show-off right from the very beginning.

No, what she was interested in was one of the foals that were standing close to their mothers. Her eyes assessed the one whose legs appeared longest out of the lot, a dusky gray in colour with a white mane and tail.

He was the result of careful breeding she and Glorfindel had been practicing ever since their reunion in the court of Lindon, and was to be her next choice for training once he grew.

The wind was steady in its course, and the elleth didn’t have to worry for a little longer, continuing her observations and noting the way the colt moved, his attitude with the rest of the young ones, the deference he paid his father – who ignored him, naturally. Anárië rolled her eyes. Men.

She sensed another presence beside her, but didn’t move, mindful of the herd in front.

"Lively, is he not?"

Glorfindel’s voice rose barely above a whisper, not enough for the horses to hear or be alarmed.

Anárië felt her lips slowly turn up at the sides: "He’s perfect, from what I can see."

"Training him will probably be a handful, though," her husband mused thoughtfully.

She turned her head slowly to look at him: "If I survived the black brute, I’ll survive anything else, trust me."

The herd suddenly sensed something, or else was aggravated by another presence; the stallion snorted, and the mares bolted, thundering away along the paths further in to one of the hidden side-valleys.

The golden-haired couple rose, and Glorfindel dusted off a fine coat of snow: "That black horse should have been named Brute, for all he was worth. D’you know he nearly bit my hand off one time?"

"You probably had it too close to his food," Anárië replied nonchalantly with a shrug of her shoulders, but there was light amusement in her voice now, "or one of his mares."

"Do I look like someone who would dare steal a woman of his?"

Anárië chuckled, shaking her head and turning back in the direction of the Last Homely House: "Incorrigible."

Glorfindel gave her a cheeky smile: "Seems to be my middle name where you’re concerned."

He caught up with her and they slowly walked over the snow together, leaving the pasture behind. They continued in comfortable silence, Anárië leaving no markings upon the snow since she had chosen light footwear that morning, and Glorfindel just the lightest of imprints of his heavier winter boots.

"The kitchens seem to finally be up proper," the husband commented as they reached the last high ridge before their descent. They both paused to observe the view.

Below them, the many turrets and rooftops of the Last Homely House peeked from under the cover of snow which had befallen them overnight, and smoke rose out of the chimneys of the southern wing. Since the wind was to them, they could actually detect light aromas filling the air. In the courtyards, many Elves were about, hurrying this way and that to their destinations as the Sun rose overhead. Even with its rays, however, the cold and frost did little to abate; winter had nature firmly by its neck now.

Anárië stirred: "Is that the lady Celebrían I see down there?"

Glorfindel stepped closer to her, ignoring the way her shoulders automatically stiffened at the closeness, to see better. Besides, he had long-since gotten used to the way his estranged wife reacted whenever he chose to appear in her presence, and truth be told he sometimes had the very same reactions himself.

They both watched the princess of Lothlórien carefully pick her way down a flight of steps, apparently on her way down to the banks of Bruinen since that was the only destination truly available in the direction she had chosen.

Anárië was musing over a lot of things as she watched her progress, only one among them being Glorfindel’s closeness. They had certainly grown more intimate during the Last Alliance, but it was still a long jump from being able to sleep side by side to actually sharing a bed in full, and both of them seemed to realize as much.

The touch to her arm was unexpected, and she flinched, turning sharply, part of her reflexes still lost somewhere on the plateau of Gorgoroth and the horrors they had seen there.

Her husband’s fingers gently closed around her arm, his blue eyes watching her with an unreadable expression.

She relaxed immediately: "I’m sorry. I knew it was you, it’s just -"

"I know," he responded softly, keeping his hold where it was; they remained immobile for a couple of moments as the activity below them slowly increased.

"I made you a promise, Anárië," he said in a low voice after a time, and she turned her face to his again, a quizzical expression on hers now.

Glorfindel smiled a hint of a sad smile: "I promised I would make life simple again for you, remember?"

That she did. Even though she had pretty much fainted after Ereinion’s funeral was finished, she remembered those particular words through the fog of her memories, along with the gentle light in the sapphire blue eyes that had accompanied them.

She nodded, quiet.

The smile intensified ever so slightly as Glorfindel took a step forward: "Won’t you come with me, then? I have something to show you."

Curious, and certainly unwilling to part ways with him just yet, Anárië followed him down the ridge. They slid down the last slope and landed lightly even as Celebrían passed that way.

Her countenance brightened immediately: "My lord Glorfindel, lady Anárië! I was just asking for you earlier, but no one seemed to be able to tell me where you’d disappeared to."

"We took a little tour up to the pastures," Glorfindel replied amicably, smiling, "I hope you did not need us for anything important?"

The elleth smiled and shook her silvery hair: "No, no, I simply wanted to inquire whether you would want to accompany me down to the Bruinen, that is all."

Glorfindel turned to Anárië, who had been silent through this exchange; indeed, she was mostly silent when others spoke these days, still mourning in her own quiet way, and slowly making her way past all the painful memories. She raised a brow at him in question.

"A little detour from our destination?" he prompted, the hint of a smile he seemed to reserve just for her breaking across his face.

She was curious as to what he had to show her, but she had long-since learned to curb any sign of impatience, and she shrugged: "I am open to suggestions."

Celebrían clapped her hands in delight: "Oh, this is too perfect! Thank you, both of you!"

And that being said, she slipped her hand through Anárië’s arm and all three of them turned in the proper direction.

Anárië smiled as she listened to the light-hearted banter that passed between Glorfindel and the princess, offering a comment here and there, but mostly remaining silent while making sure Celebrían had her arm for support down the slippery path.

Many other Elves were already about as they followed a path of carved steps that led directly to the banks, and it seemed they were all enjoying a nice day out.

Celebrían seemed to spot something or someone that attracted her interest, and hastened forward, her heavy winter cloak billowing out around her slender form. Anárië watched her go with an indulgent smile on her face. She hoped Elrond would stop dawdling soon and procure the silver rings he needed.

A soft, whizzing sound was her only warning, but even so she was unprepared for a deft, wet hit to the side of her neck, resulting in a lot of wetness sliding down behind her collar.

With an undignified yelp, she whirled around to find the culprit, also realising there was a whole lot of laughter suddenly ringing through the open air.

Glorfindel was looking at her with an impish smile on his face.

"I learned of a rather interesting custom while speaking to Elendil," he commented nonchalantly; she noticed he was shifting snow in his hands, almost absent-mindedly. "The Númenoreans practice, as they call it, ‘twelve days of awakening’. During these, they usually exchange gifts, numbered according to the day it is."

Anárië was slowly beginning to put two and two together: "Let me guess – this would be the first day?"

The impish smile intensified: "But of course. And your gift has just presented itself."

She avoided the second snowball he hurled at her only because she had seen him move.

"Those are two snowballs!"

Glorfindel grinned: "But one snowball fight."

She was hit to the back with a squelching sound, and only barely avoided collision with another of the balls flying her way. Twisting her neck to make sure, she saw Celebrían laughingly run in the opposite direction. Every Elf on the bank seemed to have a snowball in his or her hand by this point.

She had to give Glorfindel credit for ingenuity.

Ducking low and thus saving her head again, Anárië decided she might as well save her own skin if nothing else; scooping up a handful of snow, she didn’t even bother fashioning a snowball as she sent the spray backwards in Glorfindel’s general direction.

This halted his approach some as it hit him square in the face and he waved his arms about to free his vision again. By the time he managed, another snowball hit him between his shoulders, deftly aimed by a certain princess, who squealed in delight and ran away to hide behind a couple of other Elves.

Anárië was suddenly aware that Elrond was standing by her side.

He grinned, flipping a snowball in his hand: "Partners?"

"If you get Celebrían, I’ll take care of Glorfindel," she replied, feeling her own smile growing on her face.

He laughed and deftly tossed the ball of snow among a group of ellith, scattering them and revealing the grey cloak of Lothlórien’s princess. He set off, speeding across the ground, while Anárië turned and launched herself into the game with all her heart now.

Within moments, the banks of Bruinen were full of laughter, squeals and yelps, snowballs criss-crossing through the air and landing more at random than anything else. Glorfindel’s scheme was a great success.

He seemed to realize it as well when he heard his wife’s laugh ring through the glade, as she turned rapidly on one foot while sending a snowball flying in the direction Erestor suddenly disappeared to. He hadn’t heard her truly laugh in a long, long time, and he felt his heart swell inside his chest, kicking up a faster rhythm.

She sensed him coming, somehow, and evaded his grasp, dancing away on merry feet. For this moment, she reminded him of the care-free Elf-maid he had pursued along the banks of the lake on Tumladen.

Anárië, remembering the same thing, coincidently, brazenly stuck her tongue out at him in momentary inspiration.

It had been a long time since she had had this much fun, indeed, any fun at all, and for a moment snatched in freedom, she forgot all about the long Siege in Mordor, the losses they had suffered, the pain that seemed a constant companion no matter how she turned or what she did. Her only goal right now was to evade Glorfindel at all costs.

Laughing, she sped up the bank, knowing he was in pursuit, but also having a rather giddy sensation that she was in for a full rub-down if he did catch her.

A hidden branch was her undoing, covered with snow which made her overlook it in her haste to round a corner towards some low-growing willow trees. Her balance lost, Anárië yelped, twisting so she would land on her side at least, and not her face, a fall which would undoubtedly prove painful regardless of the snowy coverings.

It never came.

A strong hand caught one of her outstretched arms, yanking her upright and changing the momentum of her body’s journey. Instead of making a closer inspection of the ground, she collided with a firm chest which finally steadied her; she threw her other hand out to stop herself, anchored by her husband’s shoulder.

They stopped moving, their breaths mingling in front of their faces.

Anárië let her heated cheek rest against Glorfindel’s damp shoulder for a moment to still her raging heart. Her husband’s arm was around her waist to hold her; a gentle wind that picked up pressed their soaked cloaks around their bodies. Glorfindel smoothed some of her wet hair from her face slowly, gauging her reaction as he did so.

It took him a moment to realize that she was shaking with laughter.

Anárië had felt the mirth bubbling up inside her all through their little chase, and she let it loose, turning her face and hiding it against him as she laughed, clinging to her husband as she did so.

Glorfindel joined in, his hold on her becoming firmer when he realized she had little to no intention of moving away just yet.

"Alright?" he asked after a couple of moments when she brought her hand up to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"I’m fine, really," she assured him, lifting her head. Considering her height, she still had to tilt her head upwards slightly to meet his gaze, but she presented her flushed, smiling face for his inspection.

He thought she was astonishingly beautiful then, her cares forgotten; and when she looked up, she saw the stern face of a firm commander and general melt away to the care-free, compassionate Elf she had first fallen in love with ages ago.

Who knew what would have happened if Elrond hadn’t chosen that very moment to call out for her: "Anná! Where are you two?"

Glorfindel’s fingers tightened briefly: "Don’t answer that."

She laughed a low laugh: "And have him and his whole entourage come looking for us? You have got to be joking."

The smile he gave her this time was rueful, his eyes betraying his thoughts. Anárië surprised the both of them when she cupped his cheek and lightly placed a kiss there, smoothing her fingers along his skin before she slipped out of his grasp to answer her charge. Glorfindel took a moment longer, basking in the warmth that had suddenly flared inside those usually hard pools of green light.

They remained equally warm when they were back in their chambers later that evening.

"So, tomorrow I get two gifts, if I understood you correctly?" she asked him, sitting cross-legged on the bed while he added another log to the fire.

He turned his head, his profile outlined sharply against the flames, but she could see his smile well enough: "If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were greedy."

Anárië giggled, a sound she hadn’t made in at least a full millennia: "If I am, you have only yourself to blame, you know."

"Now who’s incorrigible?" Glorfindel laughed with her, thoroughly satisfied with the day’s events and its results as he stretched out on his side of the bed. He had given her the option of sleeping apart after they had settled in Imladris, but the first night he had woken when she slipped in beside him. Neither had said a word, but both took solace in each other’s company which kept the nightmares under control.

Besides, old habits died hard.

Anárië blew out the candle on her nightstand and stretched out beside him with a content sigh. Glorfindel watched her with a smile while she rolled onto her side and surprised him with a smile of her own.

"Thank you, Glorfindel. Today was a really good day."

She leaned in, and his breath caught as he watched the heavy veil of her hair spill over her shoulder; her lips were butterfly-gentle as she kissed his cheek.

It took him a moment to find his voice again: "You’re welcome, Anárië."

He wasn’t sure whether he imagined it or not, but the soft sound of her laugh was the last conscious thing he was aware of before he fell asleep.

Had she just turned the tables on him?


Chapter 2 - A Christmas Carol, part II

The little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

She wasn’t entirely sure why she had woken up, but she was certain it wasn’t because it was time to start whatever morning chores were waiting for her. Actually, Anárië couldn’t, at that very moment, recall any kind of pressing arrangement in need of her presence, but she did know she was awake. And something had caused her to leave the land of dreams, too.

Shifting slightly, in a hesitant manner since she was unsure whether or not her husband was still asleep or whether he had already left, she worked some feeling into her legs and stifled a yawn while poking her head out from under the covers.

The chamber was empty, save for the bed, which on closer inspection revealed a mountain of an Elf huddled under the furs, apparently still asleep.

Careful, trying not to wake him, Anárië sat up slowly, listening.

There were no actual sounds for her to make any sense out of, but considering the fact that she knew something had woken her, she supposed she would have to go and investigate at some point.

Blessing her own foresight for laying out the carpets the previous evening, she padded on bare feet into the bathing chamber where she wrapped herself in the first warm item of clothing she could find, before slipping out into the hallway.

Left and right there seemed to be nothing moving, but her instincts had rarely been wrong, which meant she was probably going to have to search a little bit longer.

Her slippered feet made no sound as she walked down the length of the inner hallway and passed out into one of the open ones, still in search.

The first thing she noticed was a bright, white light, which seemed intent on blinding her.

The elleth hissed and narrowed her field of vision so that she wouldn’t have to worry about any damage to her eyes. As she adjusted to the sight before her, she stifled a gasp.

They had received another snow-fall during the night, and the land looked like nothing would ever be familiar again.

The second thing she noticed when she finally moved again was Erestor’s rueful face.

"Did I wake you? I’m sorry. I was in a bit of a hurry and managed to slam my foot against a loose slab."

Anárië lifted her shoulders: "I’m not entirely sure what woke me, however, if you were cursing the way you normally do when you’re in pain, then it was probably you, but don’t worry. There is no harm done."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head: "Lucky me. But, if I may ask – did you skin a bear for this coat of yours?"

Glancing down at the warm outer garment, Anárië realized that it was Glorfindel’s winter coat she had taken, not her own, and it dwarfed her frame, dragging slightly. She probably looked more than a little comical.

"Actually, I think the unfortunate bear in question ran into Glorfindel at some point."

They both laughed at that; the cloak didn’t seem to be of bear fur, but its size certainly didn’t speak in its favour.

"He’s still asleep, I take it?" Erestor continued their conversation, "As any sensible Elf would be on a morning like this. The Sun hasn’t even risen yet."

"He was when I left," she confirmed, then shuddered despite the cloak and the fact that Elves were fairly good when dealing with the cold, "and I think I might go back and join him. Just looking out is making my limbs freeze."

"I’ll see you at breakfast," Erestor agreed, lifting a hand as he turned and walked away in the opposite direction, while Anárië retraced her steps quietly.

She needn’t have bothered; Glorfindel poked his head out from under the covers as soon as she was back in their bedchamber.

"At some point you’ll have to explain to me what I do overnight that makes you run off as soon as there’s any kind of light outside," he commented, his voice muffled, but the humour in it obvious, "Is that my cloak?"

"It was the first one I could find," she replied, shrugging it off and quickly climbing back into bed, sighing in content as she snuggled against her pillow.

"Something woke me and I went to investigate. Turns out Erestor is prowling the hallways but isn’t as careful as he should be. If he complains of a painful toe tell him he should watch where he’s going next time."

The bed shook with Glorfindel’s silent laugh: "The adventures you get yourself into while I sleep blissfully away."

Anárië rubbed a spot behind her ear: "I think you get the smarter and better part of this bargain, you know."

He chuckled, rolling over and lying on his back, his face relaxed and open.

But since they were both awake now, going back to bed didn’t seem like the smartest idea anymore.

Within a couple of moments, Glorfindel rose and stoked the fire a little bit, coaxing it to give more warmth. Anárië sat up and crossed her legs, watching him.

"Today is number two, right?" she asked him after he was finished, and he turned with a smile.

"Correct. But you’ll have to be patient with me. I have to fetch the gift."

"Gifts, you mean?" she corrected him, amused, which elicited another laugh.

"Gifts, yes. It shouldn’t take me too long, though. You can probably go back to sleep and I’ll wake you when I return."

The elleth watched him move around the room, gathering items he would need or something he wanted, wondering how it would have been had they been able to actually spend some time together as husband and wife before Gondolin fell. Had they been granted such, she probably wouldn’t have hesitated in reaching for him as he passed her.

As it happened, however, her hands stayed still, and she lowered her gaze.

A gentle finger under her chin forced her face up again.

Glorfindel was smiling.

"I would ask you what you were thinking just now, but I think I can guess."

His voice was gentle; Anárië felt heat infuse her cheeks slowly.

Her husband lightly caressed her cheek: "We have nothing to rush towards, Anárië; and all the time in the world, now. Think of this as a kind of courtship. ‘Tis a warped idea, I’ll grant you that, but I think it’s fairly apt, don’t you?"

He leaned in and kissed her nose before she could answer, and then he was gone with a swish of the heavy cloak, leaving her bewildered and flushed.

Men!

She did take his advice, however, and buried herself under the covers again to snatch some more sleep. It was slow in coming, but once she did catch it by the tail, she didn’t stir again until the door of the bedchamber closed.

Blinking like an owl, she lifted her head to see a smiling Glorfindel shaking off some snow from his broad shoulders.

"Is it snowing again?"

"It’s a blizzard," he informed her cheerfully, "which means I was lucky to get to these when I did. Otherwise, things might have been a bit different."

Eyeing him, trying to figure out what he was talking about, Anárië couldn’t see anything different, or close to resembling any kind of gift. Maybe that was a greedy thought, but her curiosity was certainly getting the better of her.

"What did you go out to get?" she asked, kicking away the covers and standing.

Glorfindel smiled a rather enigmatic smile, before shrugging his cloak open and reaching inside. There was a muffled sound she couldn’t make heads or tails of, and then two squirming, wet, yelping balls of fluff were deposited before the fire.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as they unrolled, wriggling and trying to find their footing, yipping and kicking out with their little paws.

"The mother was killed by an old elk," Glorfindel explained, draping his cloak over a chair to dry, "She had more, but only these two were alive when I found the den. They were a pitiful sight, but I’ve managed to fatten them up a little."

The two wolf pups managed to patch up their indignation and wounded pride at being transported as they had been, and were currently busily sniffing and licking each other out.

"They’re adorable," Anárië commented, lowering herself down beside them while Glorfindel sat on the chair. The two pups noticed her for the first time and sniffed, before tripping over each other to reach her. The elleth laughed, holding out her hands and allowing the two little ones to sniff and lick to their heart’s content, before letting them try and climb over her legs and into her lap in their exploration.

"They’re going to be an even bigger handful than the colt, though," she wondered out loud, looking up to her husband, who was watching the trio with a rather satisfied expression on his face.

"I doubt it. They accepted me readily enough; my guess is they’ll transfer their attentions to you gladly. After all, you’re a female, with a maternal instinct."

He had to duck fast as Anárië reached for one of the spare pillows and hurled it across at him.

The two pups decided they would want to join the fun, and happily yipped after the flying pillow, which ended in Glorfindel having to grab each of them by the scruff on their necks to stop them from tearing it apart.

"You were saying?" his wife commented, laughter obvious in her voice while he deposited their newest charges back in front of the fireplace.

"That I should listen to you more," Glorfindel replied, sending her a grin, "but in all effect, they’re yours."

Anárië looked at the two little things, happily pawing at each other now, and reached out to rub along their backs and bellies as they rolled.

"I can’t honestly have them both," she finally argued, shaking her head, "I appreciate the gesture, however. We should share; it’ll be easier, and I have a feeling they’ll turn out to be very good hunting companions."

"It is your gift, to do with as you wish," Glorfindel responded, "if you want this, then I’m glad; and I want the female."

Anárië laughed: "You planned this!"

Glorfindel tried looking innocent: "Maybe a little."

She rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder, smiling as she looked down at the wolf pups.

"Did you think of their names too?"

He shook his head: "I thought I’d leave the honour to you."

She continued stroking their glossy pelts for a moment.

"Alana, for the girl; and Akela for the male."

Glorfindel smiled: "That sounds perfect."

The two pups christened the moment by attacking the carpet they were on.


Chapter 3 - A Christmas Carol, part III

The stars in the sky looked down where He lay\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

Elrond was more than a little dubious about the two wolf pups, and he didn’t hesitate in telling his protector so on the first occasion he got, which was the next day when he came to find her over a personal matter. One of the pups decided his shoe was the perfect place to sharpen its teeth on.

"There’s a fairly good reason we don’t keep wolves as pets," he commented, somewhere between amused and annoyed as he shook the indignant little thing off his foot, "they’ll probably chew through the house."

Anárië calmly picked the animal up and took her back to her brother, "They’ll be fine, Elrond; besides, both me and Glorfindel are watching after them. We’ll mix them with the hounds once they’re old enough, and the next litter won’t be fully wolf, then."

He still didn’t look convinced: "They might just decide to eat you for dinner before that happens."

She had to chuckle at the look on his face, closing the door of the wooden bed Glorfindel had contrived for the pups so they would be able to close them in while they were still growing, and rose.

"You wanted to see me for something?"

His head went up and down enthusiastically, and she followed him out into the hallway. The Sun was probably shining somewhere far above the clouds, but right about now, the only thing the Elves in the Hidden Valley got were thick, dense clouds, and a whole lot of snow.

"What is it, then?"

His fidgeting was amusing to watch to someone who had known him all his life, though she supposed that anyone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t have seen much of a difference. He did have a reputation to keep, after all.

"Celebrían is leaving for Lothlórien after the Yule celebrations," he finally said, like someone was wringing it out of him. His face held a fairly comical expression.

Anárië was beginning to see light in this tunnel, but still: "Yes? I know this, I will be accompanying her across the Misty Mountains and then returning with a shipment of bows from the Golden Wood. It is not exactly news for me, penneth."

Elrond shifted his weight to his other foot with a sigh: "I know it isn’t, to you. It’s just …"

He trailed off, and Anárië had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep as much of a straight face as possible. The dilemma he currently faced was obviously a tough one, and she had more than a vague feeling about his current predicament.

Finally, she placed a hand on his arm: "Let’s walk a little."

He seemed happy to do so, and she led the way down the first flight of steps she found taking them to the lower levels, and then passing towards the back of the Last Homely House, seeking one of the inner courtyards she knew wouldn’t be as populated right now, as opposed to the main one.

"You are going to miss her," she observed as she ducked under an archway and glanced back at her charge, a faint smile on her lips.

Elrond’s shoulders slumped: "Yes."

He looked so dejected that she took pity on him, and cut their little walk short, turning a sharp left and emerging into one of the private little alcoves that seemed to spring up all over Imladris if you only knew where to look for them.

"I fail to see most of your problem, Elrond; have the smith forge silver rings and be done with it."

He looked at her with an expression mirroring the one a deer might give when meeting a hunter.

Anárië sighed: "In all honesty, Elrond, you’ve been mooning over the princess ever since you’ve first met her. What seems to be the issue now?"

He blinked like an owl: "How – how do you know this?"

She gave him a look: "I may be more or less estranged from my husband, little one, but that doesn’t mean we don’t look after you all the same. He was as good of a spy for me as any. Not to mention Erestor."

Elrond shook his head: "I’m surrounded by mercenaries of information."

She laughed: "No, just people who want to see you happy."

She watched him fondly as he paced through the small space, keeping quiet while he seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

"What if she says no?" he finally asked, looking at her as if she had the answer to every question he could pose to her. Then again, she mused, that had usually been the case as he had been growing up.

"That is something you have to face, but I highly doubt it," she replied, "Celebrían likes you just as much as you like her. And don’t ask me how I know; I may be a warrior, but I am a woman still. Some things just happen to fall into my notice."

This brought out a small laugh from him, and she leaned back against a pillar while he continued some private rumination.

"Just ask her, Elrond," she finally said, "there is no harm in asking. Remember what Maglor told you?"

She could see the name sending him into a whirlwind of memories, but most of all the lessons that had been learned there: "There are no stupid questions."

Anárië arched an eyebrow over that revelation: "Well?"

His shoulders sagged again: "I don’t know. I’m just … nervous, I guess."

"Believe me, if you are, she probably is too," she commented, "but if it will make you feel any better, you can speak to Glorfindel about this. He might have some insights to share since I’m fairly sure he went through the same process you are right now."

Elrond clearly had doubts imagining one of his best friends as being nervous: "I don’t think he was like me in this aspect."

She lifted her hands: "Don’t ask me! I never talked to him about it."

The Lord of Imladris smiled ruefully, then reached out and quickly gave her a hug: "Thank you, Anná; it means a lot, to know I can come to you."

She smoothed his collar back into place: "And you know I’ll always be here. But truthfully? I’ll breathe easier once you have a wife to go to, as well."

And she sent him off with a tell-tale blush on his cheeks, while she shook her head and chuckled into her hand for a couple of moments, watching the snow swirling to the ground from her vantage point.

"I WAS nervous, you know."

Glorfindel’s voice startled her and she jumped, turning on the spot, to find her husband leaning against the entrance to the alcove with arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face.

"You need to stop sneaking up on me," she told him, "I might have just sent a knife through you."

"I believe I have some experience with that from you already," he replied, amused.

Anárië rolled her eyes at him, and returned to the topic at hand: "You were saying something about nerves?"

"I was saying that I was nervous about asking you to bind with me. Oh, I was fairly confident you would say yes, after all that time, but it didn’t really help me that much in the end."

She blinked: "I don’t remember you being nervous at all."

He smiled some more: "That’s because I never let it show, Anárië."

She mulled over this piece of information before asking another question: "How could you be so sure? I know Celebrían probably likes Elrond, but even I’m not certain. How could you be about me?"

His blue eyes left her face to look at the falling snow: "Your father told me."

Anárië sat back, watching her husband with an incredulous expression: "I beg your pardon?"

Glorfindel looked back at her: "Your father and I had more than one conversation about you back in the day; suffice to say he told me about your feelings and what he thought about them once."

Taken aback, she nodded, and let the subject drop while she pondered this bit of information.

She had always known her father probably favoured Glorfindel over any other suitor, but this candid admission was a little bit much even for her to chew through.

"In any event," her husband spoke after a while, "it didn’t really help me. Nothing honestly helps until the woman you love agrees to bind with you."

Her attention came back to the matter at hand: "You will speak with Elrond, won’t you?"

"I will endeavour to make him stop dancing around the topic," Glorfindel admitted, "I’m fairly certain Celebrían will be thoroughly disappointed if she has to leave without a ring. Her mother even more so."

Trying to imagine the formidable Artanis as a match-maker made Anárië giggle softly, shaking her head with a smile.

Glorfindel returned the gesture and offered his hand: "Day number three?"

She took his hand and stood, smoothing off some snow from her clothes: "You know, I feel beyond spoiled. This is ridiculous."

"Maybe, but you have to admit it’s fun," he countered as he led the way. Anárië followed him without comment, simply keeping up with his stride and enjoying his company, something she didn’t allow herself often.

It was only after he stopped that she realized they were at the aviary.

"I sincerely hope you didn’t give me pigeons," she commented dryly as he unlatched the door.

Glorfindel gave her a dry look: "Even I don’t have that kind of sense of humour."

She smiled and ducked in after him, following as he led the way through to where hunting birds were kept.

She immediately noticed three new falcons in the group.

"You really are ridiculous," she murmured, stepping forward slightly and gently stroking the birds’ feathers while they nibbled on her fingers.

"Why? You use them as messengers more often than not," came his answer, "and I know for a fact you lost two recently. So these should do rather nicely as replacements."

"They are trained?" Anárië asked, extending one arm and smiling in appreciation as one of the birds hopped off its perch to it.

Glorfindel inclined his head: "Yes; they will carry messages or hunt for you, depending what you need them for. And they have distinct markings on their tails as well, if you look closely."

She did, and found an intriguing pattern of black and silver.

"This way, you’ll be able to tell them apart from the others easily," her husband finished with satisfaction.

Anárië let the falcon back onto its perch and smiled as she turned: "Thank you; you really have thought of everything. They’re magnificent."

His answering smile was warm: "You’re very welcome."

The intensity of his gaze wasn’t something she bore for long, instead ducking back out into the main area of the tower and then heading into fresh air again.

She was just in time to intercept Celebrían who nearly collided with her head-on.

"My lady! What’s the matter?"

The princess, breathless, took a moment to compose herself, while Glorfindel looked around them to see what could have caused her flight.

"Lord Elrond sent me," the princess finally gasped, "It’s – the cubs have escaped!"

Anárië frowned for a moment, then groaned: "Oh, Valar."

"What are they doing?" Glorfindel asked, the sound of his voice indicating he was somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

Celebrían suddenly dissolved into giggles: "They – they’re chasing after Erestor, trying to bite his ankles!"

Anárië tried holding a dignified expression; she tried, valiantly. But when Glorfindel guffawed with laughter, she followed easily, and all three of them took a while to settle down again at the thought of the slightly-arrogant Elf on the run from two little pups.

Eventually, Glorfindel managed to calm himself. Mostly.

"I think we should go and relieve poor Erestor’s ankles. He might never forgive us otherwise."

Celebrían was still giggling as she led the way down the stairs again, and soon enough they could hear the commotion themselves. Rounding a corner they could see it too, and a pretty sight it was: Alana seemed to be hell-bent on Erestor’s left foot, while Akela was going for the right.

Anárië and Glorfindel exchanged a look, before diving into the fray to catch their wayward little charges.

Needless to say, the habit of going after the Chief Counsellor’s ankles remained deeply ingrained in that particular canine bloodline no matter what their masters did to dissuade it.


penneth - young one, little one


Chapter 4 - A Christmas Carol, part IV

The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

"Will you stop fidgeting already?"

Anárië’s exasperated voice was directed towards Akela, who had somehow managed to get himself caught in one of the rose bushes which grew in the winter under Elrond’s careful supervision, and she was currently trying to pluck out the remaining thorns from his fur.

Of course, the little wolf couldn’t sit still, and tried more than once to wiggle free of her grasp.

His owner, however, was having none of it.

Her grasp on the scruff of his neck was firm as she pushed him down, just as his mother would have done to ensure his obedience, and proceeded with her ministrations. Akela growled as though there would be no tomorrow, but it didn’t honestly help him.

"If you wouldn’t fight me so much, this would have already been over," she told him while she continued plucking as quickly as she could, understanding it was a nuisance.

The pup growled and tried to turn so that he could catch her wrist between his teeth.

Anárië applied more pressure and was satisfied when he rumbled something and then went still, the only indication of his current annoyance that of his slowly-swishing tail.

"Serves you right," the elleth admonished, "I told you not to go down into the hot garden, but you just had to explore, of course. At least your sister had enough sense not to fall head-first into the roses."

Alana was looking mighty pleased with herself where she was seated behind the wooden gate, her expression almost smug for a wolf pup while she licked her shoulder.

Anárië chuckled softly and then bent over Akela with the pincers again just to make certain she hadn’t missed any thorns; she had already worked over his paws and snout and ears, and his back seemed to be thorn-free. Now all she had to do was turn him over and finish with the tail, but she had a feeling it would be easier said than done.

As she had predicted, once she adjusted her grip Akela started fighting her again and snarling, trying to get free and at the same time understanding, in a way, that he would be in pain when he got to his corner again.

His mistress plonked him down unceremoniously, however, and simply continued with what she was doing.

The wolf pup snarled, his dignity ruined completely, while Anárië promptly inspected his stomach to see whether she had missed any wayward thorns, and then allowed him to roll himself upright again so that she could get a better grip on his tail.

That proved to be one lengthy kind of battle, however, because Akela was having none of it; eventually, after two nipped fingers and a cuff across his snout, however, the pup was subdued enough for the elleth to check over the bushy fur, and it was just as well, because it looked like a hedgehog had been nesting there.

"And you would want to impress the ladies this way," she admonished him, shaking her head and stroking along the length of his back as she spoke. Akela seemed to have given up on trying to escape, and simply whined a little.

The procedure was almost finished when Anárië heard steps coming along the hallway towards them, but she didn’t move, recognizing her husband’s step immediately, and also because both the pups seemed suddenly to be incredibly too happy for words, their tails wagging and tongues lolling out of whining mouths.

Glorfindel opened the door and slipped through, smiling at the picture of his wife grasping one of the cubs by its tail while she looked up to greet him.

"Akela got himself into mischief again?"

"More like getting himself into the rosebush," she responded with a small smile, shaking her head before she looked back down at what she was doing, only to frown as Glorfindel stepped across the room to take off his cloak.

"Your walk is wrong; what happened?"

Her husband seemed chagrined as he glanced in her direction, but he couldn’t hide the light sheen of perspiration on his forehead when he turned to finish what he was doing.

Anárië immediately let go of Akela (who made a dash for Glorfindel and then generally got in the way underfoot all around) and went to her husband’s side.

"Glorfindel?"

"It’s nothing," he sighed, but judging by the look on his face, she didn’t believe him.

"Do you honestly think I believe that?"

He chuckled, and sighed again, letting the cloak fall; Anárië pressed her lips together when she saw the torn sleeve on his left side. She was sure further inspection would prove that the body of the tunic was mauled as well.

"What happened?"

"It’s embarrassing," he admitted, reaching down to rub Akela’s head before seating himself with a wince, "and I don’t know if I want to talk about it."

Anárië gave him a dry look while she went around to his side and gently pulled the torn edges apart further to see the extent of the damage.

Glorfindel held his breath for a short moment while her fingers danced across his skin, closing his eyes.

"This looks aggravated," she commented, peering closer, "and like you brushed against something. Did you get slammed into a tree?"

"Close, but not quite."

She tore through the remainder of the sleeve and let it drop so that she could see his arm better. There was angry, red skin all along the outer arm, and it definitely looked like he had managed to have a meeting with some strong tree bark.

"What was it then?"

Glorfindel decided he might as well get it over with: "The path from the aviary down to the house has frozen over again tonight, and apparently there hasn’t been enough time to properly salt it yet."

Anárië groaned when she realized what she was looking at: "Valar, you slipped on the ice and fell."

"And while we’re at it, I also slid down a couple of steps," he added in an undertone, his voice dry.

His wife shook her head and took her hands away: "I’m going to get some water heated and clean this. It’s going to sting, but we’ll be able to apply that cooling salve Elrond made a while back after I’m finished."

Glorfindel didn’t move, realizing the futility of arguing with her, while she went to get what she needed.

"Is it just the arm?" she called from the bathing chamber.

"Judging by the amount of pain I would say it’s my whole left side, and I’m lucky I didn’t break anything," he commented in reply as she returned. Akela got in the way, and she sighed before promptly dumping him in with his sister.

Glorfindel’s amusement showed: "The men in your life aren’t giving you an easy time today, are we?"

"No," she replied tartly, before shaking her head as she knelt down to stoke the fire. Within moments, she had the bowl of water on and happily burbling away while she went in search of clean linen.

Glorfindel hissed when the first wet strip touched his skin, and Anárië winced.

"Maybe I had better get Elrond."

"I’d never hear the end of it!" her husband replied, turning his head to look at her, "The discomfort will pass. It is simply painful."

She bit her lip and nodded, before resuming her work and trying to be as fast as she could.

It didn’t go entirely smoothly, however.

"Sit still!"

Glorfindel grit his teeth together, forcing his muscles to lock into place so he wouldn’t accidentally move again, and Anárië was able to finish with his arm and move to his side. Luckily, however, it seemed like his arm and hip had taken the brunt of the fall.

"In all honesty, you really did get lucky," she commented while she applied the sticky paste to ensure the skin would cool down and heal faster.

Glorfindel sighed: "I know. I could have broken an arm at least. Or banged my head."

"That would have been unfortunate," she agreed, making him roll his eyes, but stay still while she wrapped his arm up, "I think your side should be alright without any bandage, it doesn’t look too bad."

Once she was finished, he stretched the offending limb to see whether or not he would be hindered by the wrap, but to his satisfaction, it responded well.

"Thank you."

Anárië tossed the water away and cleaned up after herself while her husband went in search of clean clothes. The two cubs whined in their enclosure, and she reached in to rub their soft heads, murmuring gently.

Glorfindel came back to see her cuddling with Alana in front of the fire.

"You’re going to spoil them both," he commented, smiling.

His wife lifted her eyes: "I’m fairly sure I spoil you too, but I never hear you complain."

She had him there; as short as their time together seemed to be between all their duties, she did try to help him with whatever he was doing whenever she could, if nothing else.

"You win."

Her smile was serene as she let Alana go to greet her proper master, who reached down only after tossing a wrapped package at his wife: "Day four."

Anárië caught the soft item and shook it, feeling a grin come to her face while she went for the wrapping: "If you choose to throw it like this, I’m guessing it isn’t alive anymore."

"No," Glorfindel laughed, shaking his head.

Once she was done unwrapping the package, Anárië smiled when she saw four pairs of gloves, two tougher, made of leather for everyday use, and two as soft as gossamer.

"I doubt I’ll ever wear these," she commented.

Glorfindel shrugged: "It is your gift."

He would have said more, but a knock to the door interrupted them, and they both looked up to see Berien’s head peek into the room: "I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a cranky Elf who slipped on his way to the aviary. Anná, I could use your help."

Exchanging an amused look with her husband, the elleth stood and nodded: "Let’s go see if we can make Lachuí drop his long face."

Berien chuckled and withdrew. Anárië gently touched Glorfindel’s cheek as she passed him, and leaned in to kiss his forehead when he turned his head.

"Thank you," she murmured, smiling.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers, then watched her go. Sighing, he turned to see two pairs of lupine eyes staring at him.

"What?"

Akela yawned, and Alana stretched lazily in his hold, but Glorfindel couldn’t shake the thought that they knew exactly how he was feeling.


Chapter 5 - A Christmas Carol, part V

The cattle are lowing, the poor baby wakes\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

The two wolf cubs made such a racket the next morning that Anárië woke with a start, sitting up at the same time as Glorfindel did. They exchanged a look, and then her husband threw off the covers and went to see what all the noise was about in the next room.

Anárië was half-expecting to see a troop of Orcs come marching in when she heard murmured voices; a sharp retort from her husband silenced the cubs, and then all was quiet.

Glorfindel returned to find her sitting and looking at the entrance wit mistrust.

"Just Erestor," he whispered as he rested a knee on the edge of the bed to be able to slip in better.

She groaned and fell back against the pillow: "You cannot be serious – does he have an honest problem staying in his own bed until respectable hours in the morning?"

"I believe the proper term you’re looking for is insomnia," her husband commented, amusement evident in his voice.

Anárië rolled onto her stomach and burrowed in under the covers: "I don’t care about the term, I care about the fact that we’ll never get any sleep with him walking around like he’s prone on doing."

"It’s not my fault the little ones love his ankles!"

She buried her head into the pillow to stop herself from laughing outright, especially considering the fact that it was honestly true. Her shoulders still shook with it, however.

Glorfindel watched with an indulgent smile while Anárië pulled herself together again and turned so that she was facing him, lying on her side.

"What do you have to do today?"

He thought for a moment: "Elrond asked me to ride with him to the outer ridges and inspect some of the outposts, but if I know him it might just be an excuse to ask me about my proposal scheme."

Anárië had almost forgotten all about that, but now her eyes shone lightly: "Things are finally moving ahead!"

"They may," Glorfindel agreed, "or they might just be coming to another impasse."

She huffed, sighing and shaking her head: "Men."

Her husband’s low chuckle brought a smile to her lips while she tried to figure out whether or not she would be catching some wayward sleep still. It didn’t look like it since she was fully awake now, but who knew?

His fingers were gentle against her cheek and Anárië could feel her lips turning upwards ever so slightly, even though her shoulders still pulled back involuntarily. It seemed to be a sort of inherent reaction where he was concerned.

"You spoke in your sleep tonight."

Her eyes flew open and she regarded him quizzically: "I beg your pardon?"

Glorfindel had also rolled over so that they now lay facing each other, and his hand continued its gentle stroking of her cheek: "I couldn’t sleep and went to make sure the fire wouldn’t burn out completely when you called out."

She blinked, trying to imagine the scene, but failed more than miserably: "What did I say?"

His voice turned even gentler than it already was: "You called Ereinion."

Her heart felt like someone had just stabbed it, but not with a sharp knife; the knife turning slowly in the old wound was rusty and blunt, causing all the more pain while it revolved.

Anárië closed her eyes again and turned her head slightly more into the pillow: "I don’t remember having any nightmares tonight."

Glorfindel’s touch became firmer, offering support: "Most of us don’t have many memories of any kind of dream in the morning; but I know what I heard, and saw."

Her eyes flew open again: "Saw?"

"You were fighting a very heavy battle with the sheets by the time I returned to bed."

Her lips pressed together and she felt her face become slightly hotter, but at the same time she knew nothing could really be done to help all in all.

Her husband gently moved his hand down the length of her arm in a soothing gesture, staying quiet for the time being.

Finally, she sighed: "I’m sorry; I didn’t want to wake you or cause you any kind of discomfort."

"You didn’t wake me, Anárië," he chided gently, "I was already awake by the time the nightmare began."

She could see he was having a hard time believing that she didn’t remember it, and so she bit her lip. He continued waiting, and rubbing her arm.

"I was back on Orodruin."

Glorfindel sighed: "I thought as much."

She looked at him: "Did I say anything else?"

He shook his head: "Just bits and pieces, enough for me to realize what was happening. You quieted some once I got a good enough hold on you."

This time, there was no mistaking the blush creeping up into her cheeks.

Glorfindel’s smile was very gentle: "It would seem that my presence soothes you, if nothing else; you burrowed against me like I was some sort of nest for you to hide into."

He didn’t tell her how his heart broke seeing her like that, nor that she had been crying when she finally calmed down enough to allow both of them rest for the remainder of the night. If she knew about these details, she gave no indication.

"You know it does," her voice was low and muffled into the pillow. His smile grew as he gently cupped her cheek, smoothing his thumb across it.

"By the way, you already got your present today."

She looked at him questioningly.

Glorfindel’s smile was slightly impish: "It took five kisses to calm you."

Anárië was saved from continuing that conversation by a soft knock on the door that meant they were needed in the real world again. Glorfindel’s face betrayed his annoyance at the disruption, but she quickly turned to press a kiss against his open palm before slipping out of bed to go see what this intrusion was all about.

Her husband groaned as he rolled onto his back, but he had enough on his hands within moments as there was a pattering of paws and both cubs jumped onto the bed in greeting, since their mistress had let them loose.

She followed them within moments: "Elrond wants to know whether or not you’ll be ready to ride within the hour."

"Valar have mercy, can’t he sleep either?" came the answering grumble, making her smother a laugh.

"Time to get up, I’m afraid."

Glorfindel made a sound, but did as she suggested, stretching and letting his joints pop lightly as he did so. Anárië busied herself with prying the covers out of Alana’s mouth.

"What will you be doing?" he asked her.

"I promised Erestor I would help with the finishing touches to that centre-hall he’s been working on," she replied, "and then I think tonight the fire will be lit for the first time."

"That," Glorfindel said, "is very good news. I’ll see you tonight then."

"Don’t slip on ice!" she called after him cheekily, earning herself a laugh, and she smiled as she listened to him move about before he left their chambers.

As she said, she spent most of her day down in the hall helping to clear out the last bits of tools and waste, but managed to excuse herself with time to spare, quickly making her way to the rooms allotted the healers. She found Berien rolling up bandages.

"Anná!" the other elleth greeted her with a smile.

"I need your help," she admitted, which brought a quizzical expression onto Berien’s face.

"Of course; what is it?"

Explaining the situation, and her predicament, brought the smile back to her friend’s face.

"Just like old times in Lindon. Come with me."

Elrond and Glorfindel were late in returning and only had moments in which they had to change clothes and join the others in the lighting of the fire, so Glorfindel knew he wouldn’t find Anárië in their chambers. But when he came into the hall where most of the others were already gathered, he was confused when he couldn’t see her.

"Have you seen Anárië?" he asked Erestor, who frowned and glanced about.

"I did, but not for a little while now. I’m sure she’ll come."

He went his own way, leaving Glorfindel to his own devices, which mostly consisted of frowning.

A gentle touch to his arm brought him out of his own thoughts.

Anárië was certain she would never forget the expression on his face when he looked at her, and she had to admit to herself that it was a very good kind of feeling. She gave a hesitant smile.

Glorfindel forced words past the sudden lump in his throat: "I was beginning to worry you weren’t here."

She chuckled, and shook her head; he watched the loose waves of her hair shift and fall freely down her back, some spilling across her shoulders. The raiment she wore was plain, a simple grey with loose sleeves, but he was fairly sure he hadn’t seen her in a dress since Gondolin. And she had been a girl then; not so now, with the surety of a proven warrior and counsellor.

Anárië shifted her attention from the look in his eyes to where Elrond had stepped up to the fireplace. They all hushed as he brought the flames to light and thus lit the whole hall.

"Behold, the Hall of Fire!"

The call was met with cheers and applause, and voices rose into song to thank the Valar for this blessing.

Anárië found herself beaming when Elrond came to where they were standing, and they embraced.

"I came to ask you if you would sing for us," he said, which immediately erased the smile from her face.

Glorfindel spoke before she could: "She’d love to."

There was no time to argue since both men seemed to be in agreement, but she promised murder with her eyes as Elrond made the announcement. Berien’s amusement told her a story as well, but as silence fell, Anárië found herself the centre of attention. She swallowed thickly.

A hand slowly wrapped itself around hers, and applied gentle pressure.

She took a breath:

"Said the night wind to the little lamb – do you see what I see? Way up in the sky, little lamb? Do you see what I see? A star, a star, dancing in the night, with a tail as big as a kite; with a tail as big as a kite …"

***

Note: the song at the end is, of course, Do You Hear What I Hear?, written in 1962 by Noël Regney and Gloria Shayne Baker. I enclose the rest of the lyrics below; obviously, they do not really mesh well with the Elven-world, but the beginning which Anárië sings could quite easily have been Eärendil, high in the sky.

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy – do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky shepherd boy – do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song, high above the trees, with a voice as a big as the sea,
With a voice as big as the sea
Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king – do you know what I know?
In your palace wall mighty king – do you know what I know?
A child, a child, shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold,
Let us bring him silver and gold
Said the king to the people everywhere – listen to what I say!
Pray for peace people everywhere – listen to what I say!
The child, the child, sleeping in the night, he will bring us goodness and light,
He will bring us goodness and light;
He will bring us goodness and light …\r\n\r\n


Chapter 6 - A Christmas Carol, part VI

But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

"Oh I wish I had a river so long, I would teach my feet to fly … I wish I had a river I could skate away on …"

Anárië let her voice fade into a hum while she continued slowly running the cloth over the blade of her sword, but hum she still did, and both the cubs – currently in her care while papa was away – were listening on the rug in front of the fireplace.

She smiled when she looked at them, letting her humming grow louder and seeing the way they stretched in quiet content, obviously forgetting about the trauma they had undergone before Glorfindel had found them. They were also becoming very well acquainted with the both of them and seemed generally happy to do as they were told, obeying their new masters. Anárië was especially pleased with the way Akela was responding to the commands she’d slowly begun teaching them. He would certainly make a fine companion once he was fully grown.

Her attention went from the Flame of Gondolin to Alana who suddenly whined and thumped her tiny tail against the carpet.

"What is it? Is the song too sad for you?" the elleth teased the two little wolves.

They huffed and made chuffing noses, oblivious to the pretty picture they presented.

Anárië chuckled: "You, my little friends, are getting pickier by the moment."

Alana whined some more, and Akela joined her in her endeavours, which resulted in the elleth sighing while she put the cloth away and reached for the scabbard.

"Let’s see if I can find something that you won’t complain over."

The pups rolled over and happily started wrestling, which made her roll her eyes, but she did think for a moment, remembering years back in the days of Himring when it had seemed that Morgoth Bauglir was keeping pelting them with more snow than they could stomach, to serve some of his purposes.

The cubs stopped and looked at her again as she started humming the melody, Alana halfway on her brother, their attention caught once more.

Anárië smiled, never forming words, thinking back to times when she had done this same exercise with Elrond and Elros.

Akela tried to follow along with something between a bark and a howl, but Alana bit his ear, resulting in a yelp, and a quick intervention from their mistress.

"Honestly, you two are worse than a couple of brawling Orcs sometimes," she complained, "No more songs for you today, you’ve had quite enough excitement as it is."

She wrestled them apart and set them down again after making sure they wouldn’t immediately go at each other’s throats once more. Then she put her sword away and paused to look through the window at the flurry of white flakes being pelted down.

No trouble with no snow here: Imladris had been getting more than enough for the past couple of days, and if the weather were to hold, she was fairly sure they would be cut-off from the world for a little bit, though of course not too many would complain, seeing as it would keep them from the wearisome task of trudging in and out of the Valley on errands.

But her thoughts weren’t really on those unfortunates, because that morning, Glorfindel had been bidden to ride out and meet with a small group coming from Lothlórien for the escort of their princess. Anárië knew Rímallen, Celebrían’s twin and also a good friend of Elrond’s was with the group, so it was imperative that they bring her here as soon as possible, and safely.

But it did not mean she didn’t worry about her husband either.

A knock to the door woke her from her ruminations and she rose to answer it.

Berien’s smiling face met her once she opened: "I thought I’d find you in here. Erestor seems to think you’re in need of company while your lord husband is delivering the package entrusted into his care."

Anárië arched an eyebrow and let her friend in, amused: "The Lady Rímallen is considered a package?"

"She is when Erestor is speaking," Berien replied with a light shake of her head, greeting the two cubs and then taking a seat, "You would think that everyone here spoke his jargon."

"I think he still has a hard time remembering we’re not at war anymore, just like the rest of us," Anárië replied with a sigh, lowering herself down as well.

Berien said nothing to that and watched the flames for a little while in silence.

Her friend broke it first: "How is Lachuí holding up?"

The raven-haired elleth sighed: "As is to be expected. He fights me every single day, whenever he can, on whatever topic meets his fancy."

Anárië bit her lip slightly; she felt more than a little responsible for her friend’s situation, given she had been the one to cut off Lachuí’s leg in Mordor, and she sympathized with Berien over what she must be going through.

Berien seemed to read her thoughts, for she smiled: "Don’t even start down that road of thought, Anná; we are both alive and well, and the quarrels keep things interesting."

"No offense, but I don’t really believe you on that last bit," she countered.

Berien shook her head: "Alright, maybe not, but at the very least there is never a dull moment."

Anárië decided not to press the subject and instead changed it for something she considered far more pleasant: "Have you decided on a date yet?"

The wedding, which in her opinion would probably be the one of a millennia since it had taken her two friends almost that long, if not longer, to get to this point at all, was a topic which frequently popped up in conversations.

Berien propped her chin with her hand: "He’s being stubborn, and more than a little gloomy about the ‘predicament’. I can’t seem to make him understand it doesn’t matter."

Anárië felt like strangling Lachuí, but then she also understood him, more than a lot of others, she supposed.

"Do you want me to speak to him?"

Her friend smiled, and shook her head: "No, thank you, but I will tell you should this change, I promise."

They left it at that and spoke of other things afterwards, right until a bell suddenly tolled out in the courtyard, making them both glance up, startled.

Anárië counted the pealing sound; she was on her feet and on the way to the door as soon as they stopped at number two, the agreed signal that Glorfindel had been spotted and was returning.

She momentarily forgot all about Berien, and the two cubs, and didn’t see the amused, knowing expression on her friend’s face, since she hastened off.

She reached the main courtyard just as the horses of the riding party could be seen through the snow, snorting, steaming, their riders hooded and cloaked to keep some of nature’s elements at bay.

Glorfindel had had the foresight to bring his stallion as close to the archways as possible, and dismounted in haste, making his way under actual cover. He was shaking himself off when Anárië reached him.

Thankful beyond words, unable to express or even understand her own fear, she smiled when he acknowledged her presence, and gave his hand a squeeze when he reached for her.

"We came back just in the nick of the time," he said before she could ask, "The paths are completely closed behind us now. I think the party from Lórien will have to wait these storms out here."

"Like it as not," came another voice by his side from under the heavy fold of a long cloak, and princess Rímallen tossed the hood back, shaking her hair out and smiling, "But you won’t hear us complaining while we have a roof over our heads and good food to go with it."

"And what about good company?" Elrond spoke from the side, eliciting a happy squeal from the elleth and then a lot of random commentary and half-finished sentences.

Glorfindel and Anárië exchanged a look and withdrew, leaving Erestor to deal with the newcomers (since he would honestly have an apoplectic attack if anyone else tried to meddle with a system he was currently establishing, or trying to establish). By the time they reached their own quarters, Glorfindel was already dripping.

"Stay right here," Anárië ordered him, slipping into the room quickly and throwing down one of the bigger rugs before his feet, along with a basket to put his wet clothes in.

"Any other orders?" he asked, chuckling at the look she sent him before she disappeared to let the cubs out while he wriggled out of the wet garments and switched them for the dry ones she had also prepared.

By the time he detached himself from the clothes – and the wolves – Anárië had water boiling and the tea leaves in, ready to pour him out a warm cup when he took a seat. Akela and Alana contented themselves with lying at the foot of the bed.

Glorfindel sighed softly and held the cup in his hands for a moment without any other thought save this basic comfort. Anárië watched him, noting the exhaustion in his face.

"You should go to bed early tonight, if you want to be of any use tomorrow," she commented after a moment.

He opened his eyes again and glanced at her: "You may be on to something there, considering I might just have to spend some time in the snow with Rímallen and Celebrían. Unless you care to join us?"

Anárië pulled a face: "Would that I could, but I’ve already promised to help Erestor with some of the rotations for the soldiers."

Glorfindel whistled: "Not my choice of past-time, I’ll grant you that."

She rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder: "I’m not doing it for fun!"

He laughed, which elicited the same response from her, and then he seemed to remember something: "Where did I put it?"

"Put what?"

"Half a moment," he told her, getting up and leaving the warm room, taking Alana with him as he did so, because the cub seemed bent on following at his heels wherever he chose to go at home.

Anárië was content to wait, but she never expected what he brought with him: six niphrendil flowers.

Her breath caught as he carefully transferred them onto the palm of her hand, the white blossoms unfurling their petal-leaves as they dried off.

She swallowed and looked up, her eyes swimming with tears and memories: "Do you remember, Glorfindel?"

He shifted closer, his hand resting just behind her so that when she sat back, his arm was there for her to lean on: "I remember. They seemed happiest in your mother’s garden."

"And under the willows, down by the lake," she murmured, carefully caressing the petals with one finger, "I never thought I’d see them again in my lifetime."

"They grow in abundance in Lothlórien now," her husband said, "it seems the passing of the Shadow lifted the oppression from that fair land as well, enriching its number."

She sniffed softly, reminiscing.

Glorfindel dared to lean in, pressing a kiss to her cheek: "Day six."

She gave a weak laugh: "A good day; a good number. Did you ask one of the Wardens to pick them?"

Her husband watched her as she took a small bowl of water and let the niphrendil float on the surface: "No, actually, it was the lady Rímallen who helped me, bringing the flowers safely across the mountains."

Anárië put the bowl down a safe distance from the fire and then sat back by Glorfindel’s side.

"Will you sing?" he asked her softly after a couple of moments.

Her eyes met his: "What would you like me to sing?"

But she knew the answer to her own question, knew what he wanted; and his eyes told her that he knew she knew it, too.

"Please."

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Edelweiss, edelweiss, every morning you greet me; small and white, clear and bright, you look happy to meet me …"

The flames continued to crackle softly before them, the niphrendils swirling gently in their bowl, and the wolf pups listening in content while Glorfindel leaned back against the bed and let his wife’s voice take him back in time to a place where everything seemed easier, when the Elves were still considered young, and where niphrendil grew in splendour.

He gently drew the singer to him, letting her rest against his chest; and when she did not pull away, he considered the day a great success.

***

Note: the song Anárië sings in the beginning is River, written by Joni Mitchell in 1971. And the ending is, of course, Edelweiss, from the 1959 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical 'The Sound of Music'. From the beginning of this saga, I have associated the song (and flower) with niphrendil, and it is a sort of hymn to the Exiles. The first time I use it is back in chapter eight of book one.


Chapter 7 - A Christmas Carol, part VII

I love thee Lord Jesus, look down from the sky\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

Anárië lifted her head with exaggerated slowness, careful not to aggravate the neck, but she still winced slightly at the stiff feeling which followed the simple movement. Her shoulders, rolled ever so slowly and carefully, screamed a complaint, too.

She’d been stuck inside the Last Homely House for most of the day, helping Erestor with the rotations, and certainly making sure he didn’t accidentally assign Elves together who honestly couldn’t abide each other’s company, for one.

For another, it was simply better if she was near when he did this. Not that he couldn’t do it on his own, but sometimes … sometimes Anárië had a feeling he liked having her near when dealing with these kind of formalities.

The end result, however, wasn’t the prettiest when she considered herself and the way she felt entirely broken.

"Had enough for one day?"

Turning her head, and wincing at the sudden movement, Anárië rubbed her neck while glancing in Erestor’s direction: "I’m slowly getting there. Do we have many more to sort out?"

His black hair fanned out across his shoulders as he shook his head: "No, just a score more, and I only need you to give me pointers on these. They’re the last of the veterans and I have a feeling they might be the more ornery."

The elleth pulled a face, but bent her head over the parchment he unrolled before her, pointing out names.

He was right; they were going to be difficult to work with.

"Him, him and him," she pointed out, "and then the rest together. That’s the best option I can think of right now if we don’t want to have to deal with them too much."

Erestor quickly jotted down lines beside the names she gave him, and then rolled the parchment up again: "I’ll finish these after the evening meal. Thank you, Anná; I think you won’t need to help me again soon, but I really am thankful."

The elleth laughed softly and stretched, reaching out with her arms: "You’re welcome, and you also might be on to something there."

He patted her shoulder with a chuckle, then looked by her to one of the high windows through which they could see the snow, still falling.

"If I were you, I’d head out for a little bit. Preferably with those two monsters you keep hiding in your rooms."

Anárië gave a cheeky grin: "Are you having problems with my cubs, Erestor?"

"Just my ankles," he replied dryly, and she smiled brightly while passing him by.

Most of the Elves who were residents of Imladris were coming in after a day spent trudging through snow, if nothing else than by throwing it aside in the courtyards. The air was crisp, but the feeling of coldness wasn’t as strong as it could be when there was no snow. She inhaled deeply, feeling her body relax, and then made her way to her own chambers, greeting those she knew as she went.

Alana and Akela practically brought down their confided space when she appeared in the rooms, and she barely saved the construction in time.

"Here, you two, slow down!"

The cubs yipped and snuffled around her ankles, licking at her boots and climbing up her legs to reach her hands and try and nip her fingers in affection.

Anárië smiled and rubbed their ears, whistling softly: "I know, I know, you’ve been closed-off all day today, but we’re headed out right now. Let’s go find Glorfindel, shall we? He should be around here somewhere."

At the mention of his name, the little wolves ran in circles, and the elleth laughed when she let them out after grabbing her heavy cloak.

Normally, she would have considered the idea of two pups running around wild as not the smartest, but they were still so young that they had easily transferred their affections from their dead mother to herself and Glorfindel, and seemed perfectly content with following them around and whining when they weren’t near. Even now, Alana plunged ahead, but stopped at the first stairs to look back and beckon with a wagging tail, while her brother kept close to her heels.

"I’m coming, I’m coming," Anárië told them with a bright smile, watching them fondly as they careened down the stairs, slipping at the end and rolling over each other. She was going to have to thank Glorfindel for them again when she managed to find him.

It turned out she didn’t have to go far at all, and her wolfish companions were very good hunters already; they suddenly gave out little yips of excitement and barrelled over towards where three Elves could be seen in the falling snow just coming in from the main courtyard.

Glorfindel ducked quickly to grab one pup with each hand, just as a safety precaution, laughing as they wrapped themselves wildly around his arms, licking and nipping.

"Are these the cubs?" Anárië heard Rímallen’s voice from under one of the hoods, and Celebrían’s laughing confirmation from under another.

"Have you had a good day, your highnesses?" she asked, smiling as she stepped out, pulling the hood of her cloak up to cover her hair and then bending to take at least one of the pups off Glorfindel’s hands.

"Oh, it was splendid!" the youngest princess gushed, "We’re only sorry it’s over … what about yourself? Did you and lord Erestor finish the rotations?"

"At the price of my shoulders and fingers, yes," Anárië replied with a shake of her head, "If I have to look at one of those parchments again soon, I might want to burn it to cinder."

Her husband laughed right along with the two princesses, who passed under the archway so they could take off their hoods.

"Are you coming, lord Glorfindel?" Celebrían asked, turning back.

Glorfindel turned to Anárië: "What were your plans right now?"

"Apart from finding you? Simply taking these two out for a little bit," she answered, shrugging her shoulders.

Rímallen waved a hand: "You should go with her, Glorfindel, those two are a handful, I can see it already and I’ve only just met them."

Maybe it was her imagination, but Anárië would have sworn that the golden-haired princess nudged her silver-haired sister from saying something. Instead, Celebrían seemed to be in agreement all of a sudden: "We promised lord Elrond to dine with him tonight, and we should get ready, but he didn’t say anything about any other company."

"Then we will see you tomorrow at the morning meal, ladies," Glorfindel excused both himself and his wife, and turned his back on the house again.

The two pups, bored with talk, had already romped through a snow drift, and Anárië eyed them with an arched eyebrow: "They will be a menace to dry off."

Glorfindel chuckled, reaching for her arm to guide her around an icy patch: "We’ll manage. We can always hand them over to Erestor."

The elleth smothered a laugh at the imagined expression on their friend’s face, and shook her head lightly: "I fear that might turn out to be the end of our friendship with him, my lord."

Akela suddenly sniffed something and bounded ahead, which cut the dialogue short as both Elves hastened after their charges so they wouldn’t lose sight of them.

"Did you have a good day?" Anárië transferred her earlier question to her husband, who had just bent over to grab Alana by the scruff of her neck.

"It has been a long one, I will admit, but it was pleasant," he answered after shaking the pup out and dropping her again before straightening out, "Still, I would have offered to help you and Erestor, otherwise."

She eyed him from under the hood of her cloak: "You hate paperwork even more than I do, and that isn’t an exaggeration."

Glorfindel shrugged, some from simple gesture, and something to shake off the snow from his shoulders: "I would have been in your company, wouldn’t I? That would have made it good."

She was thankful for the darkness except for the few lanterns that were still glowing here, because she was sure her cheeks were burning by this point.

Everything was so confusing to her, except for the fact that she knew she wanted to spend more time with her husband, to reacquaint herself with him, and to hear him talk, and laugh. She missed him when he was gone, and worried when he had a dangerous errand to do.

What could she comment on that?

"I think I would have liked that," she finally said in a murmur, watching the two wolf cubs rolling around in front of their feet, after dashing all around in circles for a couple of moments.

His gloved hand found hers and gave it a squeeze, which brought a smile to her lips.

"You’re not planning any more snowball fights, are you?" she asked after a moment, suddenly suspicious.

Glorfindel threw his head back and laughed, the sound muffled in the snow, but still making the wolves lift their heads to look at him curiously.

"No, I admit I have no such plans," he answered her, still chuckling.

She was relieved: "Good. I’m not in the mood for one tonight."

They rounded a corner, and she stopped, eyeing the sight that opened before her.

There were seven snowmen spread out in front of them.

"Seven?" she asked, turning her head with a smile as she looked at her husband.

Glorfindel’s smile was absurdly pleased: "The princesses were more than happy to help me build these."

"And your little wolves are more than happy to ruin them," she commented, making him turn his head around rapidly to where Alana had just attacked one of the snowmen, toppling its head over and becoming buried in the snow.

Anárië burst out laughing at the expression on his face, and wrapped her arms around one of his: "It’s the thought that counts. Besides … this is the most fun they’ve had all day."

He turned to look at her with a rueful smile, and she briefly brushed her cheek against his shoulder.

They were interrupted by an indignant yelp, coming from one huge pile of snow.

"I think it’s time we came to the rescue," Glorfindel sighed, shaking his head.

Anárië laughed again, and then went to see if she could at least do some damage control, if she couldn’t save the dignity of two wet and bedraggled wolf-cubs.


Chapter 8 - A Christmas Carol, part VIII

And stay by my cradle, ‘til morning is nigh\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

All things considered, the day could have gone a lot worse.

Anárië groaned as she finally passed from under the endlessly-falling snow and into one of the large hallways of the Last Homely House. All around her were similar sounds, coming from under hoods and caps.

Earlier that day, just after the morning meal to be exact, one of the sentries up in the high tower had reported that something had been seen, in a sort of a signal, up east. Considering the fact that he couldn’t give them much more than the ‘wink of what looked like flame on metal’, no one really gave it much thought, and it was decided that it couldn’t honestly be any kind of threat, what with the snow falling as it was, and the passes being completely closed.

They had pretty much forgotten all about the warning – for warning it had been, as they would later look back on the situation and reflect – and went about their usual chores. Glorfindel and Erestor helped Elrond with some of the more mundane tasks of a lord, while Anárië had gone to cheer Lachuí up as much as she could at the time being.

None of them were honestly ready for what came next.

The first they heard was a sound like a deep, low roar coming down from up east; the ground shook.

And then a snow-slide hit the Last Homely House with the strength and speed of stampeding Annabon.

They had been incredibly lucky by the fact that the construction itself was stone, which withstood the assault nature threw against it, but the eastern side was completely closed-off and buried under, which had resulted in most of the Elves not on duty anywhere else digging through the banks and trying to free themselves – and the poor House – from this predicament.

Anárië and the team she had been with had just finished for the day, managing to relieve less than what they had hoped for, and she was beyond tired. Exhaustion would be the proper word for her current state of mind and body; shovelling snow was hard work even on a sunny day.

Her boots made squelching sounds as she walked slowly up towards the rooms she shared with her husband, fighting fatigue and wondering if she would even have enough strength to eat anything.

She was waylaid by Elrond himself.

"How are things going, Anná?"

The elleth stifled a yawn and fought with the feeling that if she didn’t hear that question again in her life, it would be too soon: "Slow, but we’ve managed to chip off some from the top. Hopefully the temperatures won’t freeze overnight, otherwise we might just have to live with snow in our backyard until spring."

The Lord of Imladris looked worried: "I’ve ordered the other teams to continue working through the night, by the light of lanterns."

"Hopefully we started well enough for them to continue," she agreed, "Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that the ground floor would be flooded, it would have been easiest to light fires all around the bottom of this catastrophe and have them melt the snow."

Elrond shook his head: "Not a good idea at all, as you yourself have figured already. And the amount of snow is enormous anyway. But, I’m keeping you – go and change, and then join us for the evening meal in my chambers."

Anárië didn’t think she would be very good company tonight, but she gave in: "Very well, I will see you in a quarter of an hour."

He touched her shoulder briefly and turned on his heel to retrace his steps, while the elleth continued her wet trek for a little while longer.

The wolf cubs weren’t in, having been taken by Glorfindel to keep him company and generally to keep them out of mischief; they would have enough work with each other in the snow drift that he had been assigned to.

The rooms were thus empty and only semi-warm, since a serving Elf had probably not been here all afternoon, and the fire had almost died out before she stoked it back to life. Working as quickly as she could, with her numb fingers and generally stiff muscles, Anárië took off her wet clothes and spread them out to dry before towelling herself off and then dressing again, in a couple of layers to ward off a feeling of chill she seemed to be entertaining.

She was just braiding her hair when she heard the door open and Glorfindel’s voice come in through the ante chamber: "Anárië?"

The cubs were his answer, since they had been able to smell her long before, and came to greet her voraciously, followed by the form of her husband, who looked just like she felt.

"Looks like you had as much trouble as we did," she commented after greeting the two pups and straightening out again.

He grimaced: "Don’t even start. I don’t know how I’ll climb back up there tomorrow with everyone else. It’s a nightmare."

"Still better than being caught under it, though," she mused while he spread his own clothes out beside hers.

"That’s true, but it isn’t any less troublesome," came the answer as he wrapped a warm tunic around his torso, sighing, "I take it Elrond invited the both of us to his little dinner party?"

Anárië nodded wearily: "We’ll excuse ourselves early. I can barely stand on my feet as it is."

He took her hand and let his thumb caress her knuckles, then bade the wolves stay where they were and led the way out.

Elrond had assembled most of the Elves who helped him run Imladris on a daily basis for this dinner, along with some old friends, which meant Anárië found herself seated between Lachuí and Erestor, with Berien opposite her beside Glorfindel.

"You two look awful," the latter commented gently among the general discussion that arose about the snowdrift, "Anná, put your hand down before you fall asleep with the spoon halfway to your mouth."

Her friend gave a rueful smile and did as she was told, hiding a yawn behind her other raised hand while trying to listen to Elrond working out a way through their current predicament with Erestor. The Lord himself had not been with the teams, but Erestor had helped out wherever he was needed, though he looked none the worse for wear. Sometimes, she wondered whether he was harnessing some hidden energy stores somewhere no one knew about.

"Anná?"

She blinked and came back to herself, turning her head to look at Lachuí with a bashful expression: "I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?"

Her long-time friend and brother-figure shook his head: "I simply asked whether you wanted some more of this dessert, or whether you’ll be leaving soon. I got the answer to my question, however."

Anárië rubbed the heel of her hand into her eyes: "Forgive me, Lachuí, I didn’t mean to be such a dull dinner companion."

He smiled gently: "You’re fine; trust me, I’ve been chafing at the bit today, wishing I could be out there with you."

The elleth patted his hand silently, then looked across to her husband, who was listening to something Berien was just explaining. Elrond and Erestor were still arguing over methods, while the two princesses of Lórien added commentary here and there where they thought it was prudent.

"No one will notice if you slip away, you know," Lachuí murmured softly, "at least, none of these."

Anárië chuckled: "Trust me, Glorfindel would."

As if on cue, her husband suddenly turned his head, probably upon hearing his name spoken, and their eyes met.

Lachuí choked back a laugh: "Point for you; he seems a veritable bloodhound."

The former Lord of the Golden Flower arched an eyebrow: "I’ve been likened to a lot of beasts, commander, but never a dog before."

"Consider this then: there’s a first time for everything," Lachuí commented back, making both the ellith around them giggle lightly.

Berien smiled: "I think you two should leave, either way; this debate will take some time to finish, and you probably have plans to be up on the snow again early tomorrow."

There was no arguing about that detail, and Glorfindel excused both himself and his wife when he caught Elrond’s eye for a short moment.

"Yes, I’m sorry," the Peredhil apologized, rising and going with them as far as the exit of the West Wing, "I should have let you eat in your own rooms and rest, but your opinion was something I wanted to hear, Glorfindel."

"No harm done," came the answer, "And we will see you tomorrow."

They bid him goodnight, and then Anárië groaned: "Please tell me you spoke to him about Celebrían. The sooner he has a wife to brush out the tangles of war still left in him, the better."

Glorfindel laughed: "I did, but we’ll have to wait and see if the end result will be to our satisfaction."

She grumbled something, trudging along on heavy feet. Both of them were exhausted when they reached their own chambers, and couldn’t even summon enough energy to properly greet the two wolf-pups.

Anárië fell into bed with a sigh: "I need a change. No, that’s not the right word I’m looking for."

Rolling onto her side, she looked at her husband, who had just taken off his shoes: "What’s that word Anárion told us about, when the workers who built the temples on Númenor ceased their jobs for a week or so?"

"A holiday," he answered, lying down, "You’re looking for the word ‘holiday’."

"That’s it," she agreed, "I need a holiday after this. Tossing snow around isn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to bring me to Imladris."

Chuckling softly, Glorfindel rolled and smiled at her: "Then how about this: I will give you a week and a day away from everything and everyone else. It will be just the two of us; we’ll even give the cubs to Erestor for safe-keeping."

Anárië eyed him to see whether or not he was joking: "You mean this? With no interruptions, no Erestor trying to get us to help with something, no Elrond who needs you for advice?"

"He comes to you for it more often than to me," Glorfindel pointed out, "But yes, that is essentially it."

"A week and a day," she mused, "I suppose that’s your gift for the eight day?"

His smile was all the answer she needed, and she beamed, suddenly excited: "I really, really like this idea."

"I’m glad," came the answer, along with a prodigious yawn, "But could we discuss details tomorrow morning? I feel like I’m barely awake as it is. I’m walking along the banks of Tumladen lake with one foot already."

Anárië smiled sadly and didn’t say anything else, allowing him to drift off to sleep, following herself soon after. No nightmare assailed her that night, but she did snuggle up to Glorfindel sometime around midnight and slept soundly in his arms until morning, with his cheek resting against her hair and her back tucked against his chest.

***

Annabon - Sindarin name for Oliphaunt


Chapter 9 - A Christmas Carol, part IX

Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

"… was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay; in fields where they lay keeping their sheep, on a cold winter’s night that was so deep …"

Glorfindel paused mid-step through the door to the library, and smiled when he heard the voice of his wife softly singing to herself. She had developed the habit in the last year of the Great Siege, mostly to keep her mind otherwise occupied from the constant thundering of siege weapons, or those were at least his thoughts. In any event, she still kept it up, singing when she was working on something alone.

Anárië was sitting behind one of the high tables in the library, carefully rolling up some spare parchment she hadn’t used up so that she wouldn’t have anybody behind her neck for it. The act of singing had come to her without her truly realizing it.

"… They looked up and saw a star, shining in the East beyond them far; and to the earth it gave great light, and so it continued both day and night …"

Suddenly, her concentration was interrupted when she sensed another’s presence, and her head came up with a sharp motion, one hand already reaching to her side with the speed of a flying arrow.

Glorfindel lifted his hands in surrender.

Her eyes flashed: "AGAIN?"

His smile was apologetic: "I’m sorry, it was never my intention to fall upon you like this; I honestly thought you would have heard me sooner."

And she probably would have, had she not been signing, and her mind on other things besides the obvious fact of her husband looking for her.

Her hands dropped, her fingers returning from where they had reached for the hilt of a dagger that was protruding out of a sheath strapped to her boot. Glorfindel recognized the workmanship of one of the smiths in Gondolin, but the sign upon it was that of the House of the Wing.

"Is that the knife Tuor gave you?" he asked her quietly as he took a seat opposite her in the alcove she had picked.

Her fingers returned to trace the House pattern absent-mindedly: "Yes; I’ve carried it with me ever since."

His thoughts took a turn in a random direction: "Even while Ereinion was entertaining guests in Lindon? At a banquet?"

She lifted her eyes to his face again: "Of course; I always wore boots under the dresses."

The image itself shouldn’t have been funny at all, but for some reason it made him chuckle, and Anárië finished rolling up the last piece of parchment with a snap.

"Need I remind you I was sworn to protect the High King at all times and at all cost?"

"I know, and it’s not that which I’m laughing at," he apologized, "But, if you think about it, it is a little funny, isn’t it? Boots and a knife and a dress."

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips were being tugged upwards involuntarily, so she busied herself with replacing the cap on the ink bottle and cleaning the quills she had used.

Glorfindel decided to change the subject: "What have you been doing?"

"Copying some of the maps our scouts have made," she answered him, "I wanted to have them in our rooms, and they would be needed here, too."

His attention turned to the items he could see strewn about the table, and he turned one of the before-mentioned towards him, going through the names he knew and over the ridge of the northern border of Imladris, among others.

"These are very detailed, who were the scouts?"

"Erestor was with the ones heading to the North," she confirmed his inner guesses, "But other than him, I would have to check in the reports to name others for you."

"No need, I was simply curious."

She inclined her head and finished up her work, ready to push away from the table: "Did you have a purpose in coming here, or was it purely for selfish reasons?"

Her eyes danced slightly despite her words, and Glorfindel smiled in return: "I was actually sent to find you by princess Celebrían. She wanted to ask you to join her in her rooms, if you had the time."

Anárië arched an eyebrow over that piece of information, but stood anyway: "In that case, I should probably make haste. I won’t eat in the main hall tonight, by the way; I’ll have them send something up to our rooms."

"I’ll see you there, then," her husband agreed, and they parted ways, though she had the distinct feeling that he had wanted to say something else, but refrained.

Her steps took her through the Last Homely House and the sound of shovels followed. They were still getting rid of the snow which had managed to surprise them and was now icing up behind their dwellings, and in the lower levels. She had been excused of the labour today simply because she had been too exhausted to rejoin the efforts, but tomorrow she knew she would be going back to work.

Knocking on the door to the princess’ rooms, she heard a cheerful ‘Enter’ and slipped through.

Celebrían smiled when she saw her: "I’m so happy you could take the time to come, my lady; I know how busy you are with everything here."

"Please, call me Anárië," the other elleth murmured, "I am but a humble servant to Your Highness."

Celebrían waved a hand and indicated she should sit: "Biggest piece of nonsense I’ve ever heard; I know of your deeds and exploits during the Last Alliance, and I stand in awe with you, I will tell you this honestly. I only wish I could have half your courage."

Anárië shifted in the chair she had been given: "Not all of it came from courage."

Celebrían’s face showed honest compassion: "I know, and I do understand that. My life, and the lives of the other women who remained behind, was spent in prayer while the war lasted."

They both fell silent as they contemplated what they had gone through, each of their own accord and on her side, before the princess shook her head: "But, forgive me, I did not call you here to speak of such things, at least not that I would consciously know about it."

Anárië smiled slightly: "What was it that you wished to speak to me about, then?"

The elleth opposite her flicked away an imaginary speck of dust from one of her sleeves, and she suddenly knew exactly what the situation was all about.

"Is this about Elrond?"

The tell-tale blush on Celebrían’s cheeks was all the answer she needed, and so she smiled, waiting in quiet content.

The princess sighed: "I know this is awkward for you, but … lord Glorfindel assured me you would not mind my questions, and I know you have known the Lord of the Vale the longest …"

"Ever since his birth, yes," Anárië nodded, "so all his life. But tell me, what is it that you wish to know? What troubles you?"

Celebrían nipped at her bottom lip with her teeth, and Anárië held back a sigh, wishing she could give her charge a little nudge – or a not-so-subtle kick – in the right direction.

The princess of Lothlórien finally glanced at the tray on the table between them: "I was simply hoping that you would know …"

She trailed off, hesitating, and Anárië reminded herself that Rímallen, who had originally been meant for Elrond, would have probably shared her own views and thoughts already, but it seemed her sister needed further convincing.

"If I know whether or not he cares for you more than he lets show?"

Celebrían, blushing furiously, couldn’t meet her eyes.

Anárië took pity on her: "My princess, trust your heart in this; it will guide you where you need to go. I do not know every thought the Lord harbours, but I do know he holds you in the highest esteem."

No need to mention he was as nervous as a colt before this personal trial, or that he was obviously dawdling.

The blue eyes lifted to her own were shining with unveiled hope now: "Oh, I truly wish this were so. I dearly, truly wish it."

Anárië heartily agreed with her, seeing the way her emotions were written on her face, expressive like an open book, and smiled, touching her hand: "I’m sure he will speak soon, before you have to leave. Which in this case, will probably take a couple of days more, but as the old saying goes: patience is a virtue."

Celebrían smiled ruefully: "I’ve never really learned how to not be impatient."

With someone as mincing about as Elrond, Anárië thought as she made her way to her own chambers again some time later, it was probably difficult to be even a little patient. She was going to have to do something soon if things didn’t evolve naturally.

Glorfindel had his feet stretched out to the fire, with supper waiting on the table, when she arrived with an exasperated expression on her face.

His amusement spiked immediately: "Allow me to hazard a guess – the situation is still at an impasse."

"I am this close to asking you to push him in the right direction," Anárië replied, showing him the amount with her thumb and forefinger, and it didn’t cover an inch, "Celebrían has been asking me whether I can tell her anything about his feelings."

Glorfindel whistled a low whistle: "That is serious."

"And tiresome," she admitted, lowering herself into her chair with a sigh, "the sooner it gets resolved, the better, in my opinion."

He poured her out a large cup of hot chocolate: "It will resolve itself in due time; trust in the Valar on this. Their design is everywhere."

"I find it hard to believe anyone finds any kind of amusement with Elrond’s current dawdling," the elleth quipped dryly, and Glorfindel had to laugh at that.

"True that, but then, the ways of the Valar are not the ways of the Eldar, after all."

She decided to drop the spiritual aspect of their current conversation, and reached to help herself to some warm soup, dipping salty bread into it and munching on the mouthful with quiet content.

They ate the rest of their meal through in silence, and even the wolf cubs seemed satisfied with the peace, eating their own dinners.

Eventually, Anárië copied her husband’s pose and stretched her long legs out to warm her feet against the flames in the fireplace: "That was a good meal. How far are we with the snow?"

"We progress, but it will still take some time," he answered her, "They are focusing now on the southern side so the stables can get easier access to the main courtyard."

"It will be a long day tomorrow," she mused out loud, shaking her head and sighing, but making no move to relocate herself.

Glorfindel did that momentarily to check on the wolves, and when he came back he was carrying a small box with him.

Anárië perked up when she remembered his little game: "Are there any more of these? Perhaps eight more?"

He laughed, shaking his head: "Just one, but you will find the numbered items inside, I promise you."

She gave him a quick smile and then carefully examined the workmanship on the box itself before attempting to open it; the lid was beautifully carved with a single flower, and she didn’t have to look far to understand the meaning.

"You saved this," she said, caressing the sigil of the Golden Flower with her fingertips as she looked up.

Glorfindel nodded, smiling: "It held a few keepsakes that I managed to grab through the confusion; but I think you will like what’s inside it."

She turned her attention back to the box and lifted the lid carefully. Inside, she saw silk wrappings, and she gently took the small package out, laying the box aside and unravelling the material in her lap.

She gave a small laugh.

"Light cavalry."

Glorfindel relaxed into his seat and watched in satisfaction as his wife spread out the nine cards before her on the table, her fingers dancing across their surface fondly. He had had them made a while back, keeping them close, and each one represented some stage of the games she had played with little Eärendil back in the day.

"I didn’t know you could add to the original display," she commented, drawing him back to the present.

"Not usually, no, but I don’t think there’s one game in the whole of Imladris," he replied, "so I think we’ll have to build it from the start."

She looked back at the cards in front of her, smiling at the basics she could see: "Then this is a very good start."

It was the game of her maidenhood, the game of their home, a past time straight out of a previous life, and her heart swelled slightly as she thought about how much insight her husband had into what she missed, and what she had cherished.

Carefully putting the cards back into the silk and then into the box again, Anárië stood and crossed over to Glorfindel, placing a hand against his shoulder; he hesitated for a moment, then slipped an arm around her waist.

She smiled: "Thank you, Glorfindel. You truly know what will mean most to me. I appreciate every gift you give me."

His smile was warm in return, his hand lightly running in small circles against her back: "That is all the praise I could ever ask for. I’m glad."

She leaned against him lightly, and he tightened his hold on her, both of them content.

***

Note: the song is, obviously, The First Noel, originating from somewhere around the 18th century, though in its current form it was arranged by John Stainer in 1871. The lyrics I chose could easily describe Eärendil.


Chapter 10 - A Christmas Carol, part X

Close-by me forever, and love me I pray\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

"Watch out below!"

The shout lifted the heads of the Elves, and they scrambled for cover as a heap of snow slid down from above, just narrowly missing a few of them.

Anárië wiped her forehead and looked up, screening her face from the pure whiteness, but she couldn’t really make out much from the top, only that the voice had sounded remarkably like Erestor. And she actually wouldn’t put it past him to be right where he shouldn’t be to begin with.

Someone touched her arm, and she turned to see Berien, standing in the relative safety of one of the archways.

"I’ve brought some warm tea; you could use it, I think."

Gratefully, her friend placed her shovel against the pillar and stepped into shelter to take the offered cup; all around her, the others of her team were doing the same.

Berien watched her with worry on her face: "You work too much, Anná."

Anárië shook her head: "I don’t. If I wouldn’t be helping here I would be doing something else – it’s the way I am. You know I’ve always been on the move, even in Lindon."

"Never as much as now," her friend pointed out, "and even Lachuí is worried about you."

This didn’t sound like anything she hadn’t heard before so she smiled: "I am touched, truly; no one could ask for better friends than I have. But I’m fine. If I had to sit still and do nothing, I would probably go crazy within the hour."

Berien laughed outright at that: "Truer words were never spoken. How are things between you and Glorfindel?"

Anárië, remembering the times when Berien had lied for her, and the confidences they shared, sighed: "They are … going."

The grey eyes of the other elleth were amused: "Yes?"

She frowned furiously: "Yes nothing. There is nothing much to say."

Berien laughed: "You are as stubborn as a mule, but I forgive you; is it true, though, that he is giving you gifts as the days go by? Some Númenorean custom?"

This brought a blush to Anárië’s cheeks, but thankfully she was already warmed up from shovelling snow anyway, so she could attribute it to that: "He is; ‘twelve days’, I’m told it’s called."

"How many are left?"

Anárië didn’t need to think, answering without taking a moment to catch her breath: "Three, counting today. Today numbers as the tenth."

Berien was grinning from ear to ear when her friend looked at her again, and this made her frown: "What?"

Her friend laughed, shaking her head and placing a hand against her arm: "Nothing, nothing. I am simply glad you two are working it out, that’s all."

Anárië was very quick to retaliate: "What about you and Lachuí? How stubborn is that mule still?"

Berien threw her a withering look: "I suppose I should be thankful your counter-attack is as mild as it is, imp."

"You haven’t answered my question yet."

The raven-haired elleth threw her head back and laughed lightly: "Stubborn, that’s what you are. And if you must know, I’m making progress. We might be talking about springtime now."

Anárië blinked: "This coming year?"

Berien’s beaming smile told her everything she needed to know, and she couldn’t hold back a completely undignified squeal as she embraced her friend, and both of them laughed.

Glorfindel, who had spied Berien among those dolling out warm beverages, had the honour of walking to them at that moment.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked, amused.

Berien shook her head and grinned: "No, no, all is well, I’m taking the empty cups so you can get back to work."

He made way for her, and watched her straight back for a moment before he turned to Anárië: "What was that all about?"

His wife looked as happy as the cat that got the cream, a double portion: "She and Lachuí will bind soon. FINALLY."

This brought an answering smile onto her husband’s face: "Now THAT is the best news I’ve heard in while. What’s taken him so long? I was beginning to think he has the case of Elrond syndrome."

Anárië laughed at that, elbowing him as she turned to pick her spade up again: "You’re being downright mean. Lachuí is simply troubled."

"And stubborn," Glorfindel added, "Though I know of more than a couple who would call him pig-headed, but let’s not go into details."

His wife responded by tossing some snow his way with the shovel.

They worked side by side for the remaining part of their shift, and by the end of it things were actually looking a lot better than they had ever thought they would.

"This doesn’t look so bad anymore," Erestor summed up their entire thought process as he joined them once they were finished, "I think a few days more should do it, and the rest can be left to melt once spring starts showing itself."

Anárië agreed with him: "Besides, any more work like this, and we might just bury you under all this snow, Erestor; what in the name of Varda were you doing up the slides anyway?"

Glorfindel watched the exchange with arched eyebrows, amusement written all over his face, but he made no comment and didn’t do anything to help his friend, who fidgeted.

"Nobody was supposed to know I was there."

"A little advice, then," Anárië commented dryly, "Don’t shout at the top of your lungs like that anymore. I spent at least a decade listening to you hollering orders left, right and centre. I’ll always be able to pinpoint your location."

This made both the Elves laugh, and Erestor looked a little less rueful: "Point taken, but I couldn’t stay away. It was an experiment; I wasn’t sure if it would work."

She didn’t have to feign incredulity: "You weren’t WHAT?"

Glorfindel decided it was probably a good idea to intervene just then: "I think what Erestor meant to say is that we needed all the help we could get. And besides, it WAS easier to shovel away all the loose snow afterwards, remember?"

She couldn’t help but keep on glaring at Erestor, who looked thankfully in Glorfindel’s direction because he had practically just saved him.

"In any case, we’ve made a lot of progress," was the finish line from their dark-haired friend, before he excused himself to go see whether or not Elrond would have any orders for him for the coming days.

It was just as well that he took his leave then, since Anárië was two seconds away from throttling him.

"He very nearly swept us all away with his little avalanche!"

"He was only trying to help, and it DID work," Glorfindel countered, "Besides, no one was wounded, only showered with snow as far as I can see, and he DID give a warning shout."

She glared: "Whose side are you on?"

Her husband smiled: "The side of reason, of course."

Anárië huffed, turning on her heel and stalking off, despite the fact that she was trying hard not to smile. For some reason, Glorfindel’s sometimes-absurd explanations and injections always made her feel better about any given situation, even a dire one.

He caught up with her just as she entered the hallway where their private chambers were.

"Who are you mad with? Me or Erestor?" he asked in good humour, which finally cracked the last of her resolve and she dissolved into soft chuckles.

"Both of you, and let’s pretend I’m not laughing," she managed somehow, which brought an answering smile to his lips as he opened the door and held it for her to pass through first.

"I haven’t heard you laugh today at all, I promise."

She elbowed him again, leaving her cloak behind to dry off, and going to greet the two cubs next.

Her intentions were good, but they were side-tracked when her eyes fell on the centre-table in the living area.

"Oh!"

There was a vase standing in the middle of it, but that was a side-thought; the vase was full of flowers.

"Winter roses," Glorfindel commented, coming up from behind her, "I’ve always loved their colour. This batch grew wild just above the Last Homely House."

Anárië reached out and carefully touched one of the blossoms, cupping it in her hand and leaning in to smell them: "They’re beautiful, Glorfindel."

His hand touched the small of her back momentarily before he went in search of dry clothes for himself. She couldn’t stop smiling as she went to bend over the two impatient little animals.

"Your papa is very good to me," she whispered to them as she rubbed their ears.

And Glorfindel, hearing the whisper by accident as he entered the room behind her, hid his smile and pretended he didn’t know a thing.


Chapter 11 - A Christmas Carol, part XI

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

They were finally making head-way with the snow, which was a small blessing. But the weather had stopped throwing large amounts of it down into the valley, which enabled the workers to finish what they’d started, although for the most part, it looked as though the back courtyards of the Last Homely House would have to wait until the thawing process began.

Still, it was a far better sight that met the eye than the one at the beginning, and Anárië paused, leaning against her shovel while she lifted her face up to the feeling of the Sun, who walked high above the clouds, but still graced them with her presence.

She inhaled deeply, and rolled her shoulders, feeling that the end of this mission couldn’t come too soon; the last thing she needed was to be completely stiff when she escorted the Lórien Elves back across the Misty Mountains.

"Enjoying the view?"

Her husband’s voice brought only one eye to open a crack from her vantage point, otherwise Anárië remained as she was: "No, but I wish I had that excuse."

He chuckled and leaned against his own shovel beside her, looking at the space they’d managed to clear that day already. They would be relieved momentarily by another team, and that meant some relaxation at last.

"I went to check on the two little ones briefly," Glorfindel spoke next, "I think we need to take them out after we’re done here."

Anárië stifled a groan: "I’ve been thinking the same thing, only if Alana tries attacking me again, I’m going to send her your way. I can’t handle her today."

Glorfindel rubbed the back of his neck: "Neither can I, to be honest, but I’m hoping she will take pity on two broken Elves."

His wife snorted: "Of course she will. Has she ever done so in the short time she’s been with us?"

She had a point, and Glorfindel chuckled again, lifting his face just as she was doing even as the gong rang out, which called the current team to a stop and into the warmth of the House again, and sent a fresh one out into the snow.

"Come," he said, "It’s time we found something to eat, and maybe we have some mulled wine somewhere."

At that, Anárië perked up: "I don’t think I’ve had that yet this season. But it would feel good today, I’ll admit as much."

Glorfindel smiled: "Then we will go and harass Erestor for some; I think I remember him having a special kind of fondness for the beverage … and very fine recipes of his own."

The elleth laughed at that and handed her shovel over happily, following after her husband and sighing in content once she was out of the cold and in the inner hallways of their home. The Last Homely House was bustling with activity, and she wouldn’t change her location for the world anymore. She was falling in love with the valley, perhaps because she had been born and reared in a hidden kingdom prior to situating herself in Lindon.

She knew Glorfindel felt the same way; he revelled in the prospect of living together with all his friends again, as close to him as family members, and she understood that thirst. For the exiles of Gondolin, or any kind of haven which had fallen, keeping close contact with those still remaining and living with them was something they all strived for. The perpetual fear that you could end up alone was always present in the corners of their minds.

Because the weather had been dry that day, they didn’t have to change their clothes before going on the hunt for their friend.

Erestor was just closing a book when they found him.

"To what do I owe this honour?" he asked, smiling from ear to ear, but then given that he knew exactly what went on in the premises of Imladris, he probably knew at least the gist of why they were here.

"Mulled wine," Glorfindel answered, returning the grin, "As we recall, you have a special talent for it."

"And we are in dire need," Anárië supplied, smiling herself, "We’ve been in the snow all morning."

Erestor laughed: "One would think it was the worst torture imaginable! But lucky for you, I’ve actually been down to the kitchens today already, with a special order."

Anárië’s eyes sparkled: "Is it of a drinkable variety?"

Her friend grinned broadly and stood: "Let’s go and you’ll find out."

They followed after him, in friendly banter, enjoying in the feeling of freedom and the knowledge that they wouldn’t have to go back out into the snow until tomorrow.

As predicted, the kitchens were busy when they arrived, but as soon as they stepped into the low hall, Anárië lifted her nose slightly: "I smell cinnamon."

Erestor exchanged an amused look with Glorfindel, then led the way over to where a couple of large cauldrons were simmering over an open flame.

"Three cups," the dark-haired Elf asked of one of the cooks, and once they received them, he poured out the steaming drink and handed them over. Both Anárië and Glorfindel wrapped their hands around the warm items carefully, but with reverence, and blew on the aromatic liquid to be able to sip it slowly.

"You two look like someone has just handed you some sort of award," Erestor commented with a chuckle as he watched them huddle close to the cauldrons and sip the mulled wine slowly.

"You would be too, if you’d been out with us today," Glorfindel countered, "There was no snow falling on our heads, but the cold is worse than it was yesterday, more felt."

Anárië shuddered lightly: "And the floors are icy when we do manage to free them. It is tiring work."

Erestor sympathized with them: "I understand, and I really do hope we can clear enough of it soon so no one else need worry about it for this season."

They fell silent at that pleasant thought, and once they finished with the wine, both Anárië and Glorfindel excused themselves, saying they had a couple of cubs who needed stretching their legs.

Erestor backed off at that piece of information: "I’ll be in the West Wing if anyone looks for me."

They watched him take off with all possible haste, and Anárië laughed in amusement: "I think he’s worried about his ankles."

"Wouldn’t you be too?" her husband asked her, then shook his head as she giggled, and made his way back out of the kitchens with her beside him.

Alana and Akela were both beside themselves when they saw their masters.

"I always get such a bad feeling when we come back inside," the elleth commented once they were out romping through the snow, and the Elves followed at a more sedate pace, "They always look so starved for attention."

"They probably fear we won’t come back, like their mother didn’t," Glorfindel ventured an opinion, "or they simply don’t think at all and are just happy to see us whenever we appear. Who knows?"

She shook her head and watched as Akela attacked a large icicle, while his sister kept her distance until the opportune moment when she latched on and started a tug-o-war.

Something landed on her nose, and Anárië looked up in dismay.

Glorfindel followed her gaze and grimaced: "So much for a break in the weather."

With a whistle to the wolves, they made their way back to the Last Homely House, and passed the grumbling teams with shrugs and sympathetic glances.

"It’s going to be a nightmare again," Anárië commented.

Glorfindel agreed with her in silence, simply shaking his head while giving the two wolves their meal and then working the fire to a brighter flame again.

"How much wood do we have left?" she asked him as she came over to warm her hands against the heat.

"I’ll have to check later, but I think I’ll be heading out with the wood-cutters tomorrow again," came the answer, "I know the kitchens are running low already."

Anárië hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with an extremely long winter, especially since she understood well that a house such as this, made primarily of stone, needed fire to keep it warm during the cold nights.

"Just be careful," she said softly, "we have that dinner tomorrow with Elrond, and I actually want to attend it without you all wrapped up in bandages."

Glolrfindel smiled: "I’ll be fine; wood won’t bring me down, believe me."

"Ice already did once this season," she reminded him in a dry voice, shaking her head, "Just don’t be too zealous."

He agreed to that much, at least, then straightened out after having rolled Alana over a couple of times on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

Anárië watched him fondly: "They both adore you."

"I give them food; they’re smart to like me," he replied with a grin, then followed her with his eyes as she went to take a brush and untangle her long hair.

"What day is it today?"

He knew what she was asking, and rolled his eyes in good humour: "Eleven, if you must know, but something tells me you’re counting."

She looked over her shoulder with a smile of her own and an amused sparkle in her eyes: "Well, considering the fact that I have a feeling you’ll be needed elsewhere this afternoon, you might as well give me the gift now, don’t you think?"

Glorfindel groaned: "I almost forgot; Elrond."

"I pity you," his wife added in an after-thought, but he wasn’t fooled for a moment.

"No you don’t, you’re just glad it’s me and not you."

Anárië tried to hide her expression, but failed, and simply grinned: "One of us has to catch a break somewhere."

Her husband laughed, shaking his head as he stepped over to his wardrobe, opening it and pulling out one of the drawers.

She frowned: "Please tell me you’re not giving me eleven scarves."

Glorfindel snorted: "Of course not, but hiding presents from you takes ingenuity."

The elleth burst out laughing, but said nothing more since he produced a flat box at that moment and came around the bed to where she was sitting. Anárië rose, forgetting about the brush and the wild mane her hair always became when exposed to any kind of liquid, and peered at it curiously.

"What is it?"

"Open it and see," Glorfindel suggested, holding it out for her to take.

She did so, smoothing a hand over the lid, her fingers following the pattern of a star engraved into the top.

"This one has eight rays," she observed in a muted voice.

"Yes; it came out of Lindon."

The star of the High King. Anárië’s fingers trembled lightly, but she forced herself to forget the pain and focus on what was in front of her.

Carefully, she slipped her fingers to the front and lifted the lid.

At first glance, words deserted her; the gold inside, carefully laid against a cushion of blue velvet, caught the light of flames and glowed almost orange, flickering. It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at.

It was a necklace. The chain she could see was so delicate that she had a feeling it would slip through her fingers like water. The gold turned into shapes as it travelled to the centre, and she caught her breath, turning the box a bit so that she could see better.

She would have recognized celandine blossoms anywhere.

"I never did give you a wedding present," her husband’s voice came to her ear, soft and gentle, "I thought the gardens I had planted for you would have sufficed, but after our flight … I had to find something else."

"When did you have this made?" she asked, breathless.

Glorfindel shifted so that he could look into the box as well: "When I was chasing you in Lindon."

The centre of each blossom flashed with the light of flames, and Anárië looked closer.

"Are those … ?"

"The ten surrounding ones have crystals," he confirmed, "And the centre -"

"A sapphire," she finished for him, her fingers touching the large stone, cut to perfection and laid carefully among the folds of a blossom that needed only the breath of wind to become alive.

"Glorfindel …"

His hands came to rest on her shoulders: "It is a gift. A gift I should have given you long ago, as a token of respect, and my devotion."

Her throat closed off while he carefully lifted the necklace: "May I?"

Anárië turned, slowly reaching to push her hair aside, undoing the clasp of the medallion she always wore around her neck and putting it down onto the dressing table.

The gold was cool against her skin, an unfamiliar feeling since the medallion carried the warmth of her body with it; the blossoms came to rest in a wide arc going up to her collarbones, the centre-stone lying heavy and low when she touched it.

Glorfindel’s fingers were warm against the nape of her neck: "I don’t know if you noticed, but the clasp is silver."

In all the splendour of gold, she really hadn’t, but something in his voice caught her attention, and she turned around again.

His lips were curved in a slight smile as he took her in, although she knew that such a necklace called for more sophisticated attire than the tunic and leggings she was currently standing in; but he seemed content.

"It suits you more than I ever hoped it would."

Her cheeks felt warm, and she swallowed: "The clasp?"

Her attention was faltering as his fingertips danced along the length of the necklace, just brushing along her skin, like flames licking along a path already-prepared for them.

Finally, Glorfindel lifted his eyes to hers again: "I had our rings melted and re-forged."

Anárië felt like her heart finally did come to a sudden and complete stop. For a long moment, she could only look at him, mute and deaf to everything else.

"Is this the way you treat the woman you would wish to bind with you? Perhaps I should reconsider and choose Duinhir after all. At least HE has some manners! I will have you thrown from my father's property!"

"Yes, and how will that look I wonder, given we are wearing identical rings? Will you allow me to place this ring on your finger, or must I restrain you, woman?"

Glorfindel’s smile was very, very gentle as he reached up to cup her cheek with his hand: "I never had the chance to throw them into the forges after the ceremony."

She struggled: "But how – you passed away …"

"And the rings were one of the few items returned to me."

The clasp seemed to brand her in a certain way, and the ring on her right hand responded in kind. Anárië felt the meaning of the gift with each beat of her heart, even as her eyes welled with tears.

"Oh, Glorfindel," she murmured, reaching for him as he pulled her close, allowing his lips to kiss her tears away, before burying her face into the crook of his neck, holding on for what seemed like dear life. And for the first time in a long time, she felt again the steady strength that flowed through him, the assurance that he was there for her, that he would protect her. It was a feeling she had thought lost, and her heart bled with the knowledge that it was always there, waiting just around the corner.

"Thank you."


Chapter 12 - A Christmas Carol, part XII

And take us to Heaven to live with Thee there …\r\n\r\n

Winter, 1 TA
Imladris

Anárië glanced in the direction where, normally, the two cubs would have been housed, but for tonight they were taken off her hands and being babied by someone else; who, she could not say since Glorfindel had failed to share the knowledge with her. It was amusing to see how much she had already gotten used to their presence, if their absence disquieted her this much.

It was to be a night of celebration in Imladris, and Elrond had announced feasting that evening to take place all around the Last Homely House, and indeed she had herself just come in from one such revelry. But her Lord and protégé had also asked for her company at a private dinner, so that was what she had left early to prepare for.

As once before during these interesting and emotionally-expressive twelve days, she had sought Berien’s help, sensing that a certain attire was needed.

Her friend had taken to the task with delight: "No one will be able to take their eyes off you when I’m done, this I promise you."

"All I want is to look good enough to be able to wear the necklace," she’d argued in return, but she had to admit, even to herself, that Berien had surpassed even her wildest imagination with what she’d conjured out of someone who was more warrior than lady, and who had spent the better part of the last hundred or so years in armour.

The material of the dress was soft, pliable, and clung to her in all the appropriate places; she would have complained over it if she would have thought it would work, but that conversation had already come and gone once. Besides, looking into the mirror now, Anárië thought she actually looked AND felt like the woman she could see gazing back out of the mirror at her. Even in Gondolin, when a warrior’s attire had been only a passing dream, she had never felt this at home in any kind of dress.

Or maybe it was just the nerves speaking through her.

She shook her head and turned rapidly away, the light inside the room catching in the soft gold and white of the fabric. Berien had wanted to go dramatic, to enhance her eyes or play on her position with purple again, but Anárië had adamantly refused.

Anyone seeing her from Gondolin would have no trouble discerning just who she was:

the daughter of Ecthelion and Cealea, but the wife of the Lord of the Golden Flower.

The ring on her right hand felt right for the first time, too, and she pondered it for a moment when she caught sight of it while reaching for the necklace of celandines. It had been millennia since Glorfindel had placed it on her finger, yet it, too, she had had to grow into.

Securing the clasp and making certain the central celandine was resting in the right place, Anárië took one last look at herself, then with baited breath left the room.

For the first time since Gondolin, she was wearing soft slippers on her feet instead of her usual boots, and she did not carry her dagger with her. She felt horribly naked and exposed, but straightened her back and shook herself inwardly: no enemy was alive that could take the Hidden Valley without them knowing about it, and Sauron was vanquished.

The bells rang the hour, and startled her from her thoughts; taking a hold of the skirt, she hastened forward, knowing she would probably be the last to arrive.

She knew there would be no serving Elves present tonight, so she opened the doors to the West Wing herself, and caught her breath before she swiftly made her way to the private hall where Elrond usually entertained his guests.

Berien was the first one she ran into, and it seemed that it was good luck.

Her friend’s grey eyes shone warmly: "Valar, you are a vision, Anná; wait until Glorfindel sees you. I might even have to blindfold Lachuí for tonight."

Anárië scoffed: "’Tis not like some miracle has occurred, I am simply wearing a fine dress. Am I very late?"

"No, just in time," her friend replied, "But wait here, I was asked to alert someone of your arrival."

The golden-haired elleth decided not to ask, since she had a good feeling who it might be.

True to her own thoughts, Glorfindel’s familiar step made its presence known.

He paused as he rounded the corner, his breath leaving him in a short gasp; he never noticed Berien withdrawing with a small smile on her lips. His eyes were only for his wife.

Anárië felt like fidgeting under that close scrutiny, but she reminded herself that she had not gone through fire and loss simply to be cowed by one look, even if it was that of her husband. The sapphires of his eyes burned like molten pools as he appraised her, and her chin lifted a fraction in response.

He remembered to step further into the hallway then, and she could see him fully now, his attire revealed in the light of candles; it was her turn to inhale sharply.

The last time she had seen him dressed for the occasion and appropriate to his status had been in Gondolin, for their wedding; it had been a long time indeed since he had had need to stand on ceremony, and even though the gold filigree of his vambraces cast swirling shapes on the surrounding walls, it was a detail that enhanced, and did not take away.

Belatedly, she also realized they matched, the gold and white complimenting each other.

His fingers slipped through hers, and the grasp was secure on both sides.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

His voice was only a murmur in the stillness of the corridor, but Anárië heard him. And even though this was supposed to be a rhetorical question, the answer presented itself: "No … no, I don’t think you ever have."

Glorfindel could feel a growing smile on his face: "I have been remiss, then; Lady of the Fountain and the Flower, you are beautiful. And if any of our old friends and kin could see us now, they would never believe the sight."

This time, the blush was evident on her cheeks, a dusking colour that crept into her otherwise pale skin; Glorfindel’s thumb caressed the skin of her hand, still smiling.

"A little colour was all you needed; but come. They’re waiting for us."

He turned and let go of her hand, only to offer it in the traditional manner reminiscent of the High Court, a gesture she had been instructed and taught to expect, but outside the court of Ereinion Gil-galad, no one seemed to remember the old ways anymore.

It was the proper way a husband might escort his wife into the presence of royalty.

Anárië was almost painfully aware of the sudden hush that fell among the small number of gathered when she and Glorfindel entered the hall; but, as before, taking a step back or lowering her head was not in her nature, and she simply lifted her head in casual acceptance of the fact.

It was the first time the couple had entered any kind of function as husband and wife, and Elrond, especially, took note of it.

"Well, this is a sight I’ll not soon forget," he said, stepping forward and extending his arms to embrace his protector, whispering in her ear, "You’re beautiful, Anná."

She fought a blush this time around and quickly turned to greet the others who were here: Lachuí and Berien, both content, both smiling broadly; Erestor, looking like the cat who got the proverbial cream; Celebrían and Rímallen, smiling gently, amused.

Glorfindel touched her arm as Rímallen took hold of a tray which had been prepared before, bearing cups for them all; Anárië turned to look at him.

"The final present," he murmured gently, "Twelve companions, for the last, twelfth day."

She blinked, frowning, as she glanced around at the gathered, making a quick head-count.

Excluding herself, she could only count seven, no matter how hard she tried.

Letting her puzzle over this for a moment or two, her husband gently placed his hands on her waist and turned her to the other side of the hall, where she had previously noticed most of the candles were placed.

It was not only candles, she noted then: there were pictures.

Portraits.

There was the sweet-faced Wilvarin, Berien’s sister whom they had lost during one of the first wolf-raids on Lindon; Anárion of the house of Elendil, brave and unharmed; Gomil, the cousin of Durin Longbeard, a twinkle in his eye; Uindor with his quick wit and rakish smile; and the centre-piece was the most magnificent of all, a portrait of Ereinion Gil-galad in the days of his splendour, replesent in the livery of a High King, but with the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile which she remembered, and knew well.

All those dear to them who had passed away, the losses they could not count spreading out behind them, but these at the forefront of their mind, ever and always.

Now she could see the number twelve, and understand tonight’s private gathering.

The cups now passed around, Elrond lifted his: "To those who have come before us, and are even now, so we hope and believe, watching this very moment. We hope that they have found peace, and happiness."

They murmured assent, and drank from the cups.

The gathering became less solemn afterwards, as the food was passed around and talk turned away from the deep shadows of their loss, even though those in the portraits remained ever with them; but it seemed to Anárië that everyone in the room could now speak of them with greater ease, and less pain showing in their eyes.

"You have outdone yourself," she told Glorfindel as he brought her a fresh cup of wine after dinner, "I would have never thought to make the number twelve the way you have. It was ingenious."

He smiled touching the rim of his cup to hers, and they drank in silence.

Erestor’s voice suddenly rose above the general hum of conversation: "Are we all just going to stand here, or will there be dancing, as my lord has promised?"

Anárië caught the look in Glorfindel’s eyes, and both of them turned to their friend in almost-horror.

Elrond laughed: "As my impatient friend here has pointed out, we will, in fact, be dancing. And I have it on good authority that we may see something out of the old courts tonight, as well."

Celebrían, beaming, crossed the room towards where Anárië and Glorfindel stood: "I’ve never seen the traditional steps to the ‘Winds of Manwë’, but Elrond tells me you know them. Won’t you show us?"

"Please," her sister added her voice, but Anárië was preoccupied with the way the princess had omitted Elrond’s title – something which she had never done before.

"Won’t you, Anná?" Lachuí spoke suddenly, and she blinked.

He smiled a rueful smile: "I’ve never seen it done the traditional way either; Ereinion danced it seldom, and when he did it was a shortened version."

She looked at Glorfindel, wordlessly, and he seemed just as much at a loss as she was.

Erestor decided for them as he propelled them to the middle of the hall to a make-shift dance floor; there would be musicians playing soon, and they had only moments to spare.

Glorfindel looked across to his wife: "I suppose it is useless to try and resist now?"

"You are a trifle late," she commented, smiling nervously.

Her husband returned the gesture, reassuring: "I’ve never failed you before, have I?"

No; not in this dance he hadn’t. But Anárië couldn’t explain to him, in these brief moments, just what she was nervous about.

Glorfindel executed a bow: "May I have the honour, my lady?"

Anárië remembered the proper response just in time, sinking into a curtsy: "The honour is mine, my lord."

Those same words echoed through her thoughts, words she had spoken long ago, during this very same dance, with the same person, under entirely different circumstances. The music flowed through the hall, the gentle swirl of a flute, and her feet left the spot she felt rooted to, her body finding the harmony she’d always had with Glorfindel, even at the very beginning.

The dance was intricate in its simplicity, movements of the hands just as important as the way your partner led you; and when Glorfindel turned her under his hand, Anárië wasn’t in the hall in Imladris anymore.

Their hands a breath apart, they slowly circled one another in her father’s house, surrounded by friends and family, under the warm gaze of Turgon, their King.

Anárië’s heart thudded as Glorfindel turned her one last time, and she was glad of the hold of his hand as she sank into a curtsy again; she didn’t think her legs would have held her otherwise.

The applause of her gathered friends sounded from far-off, a great distance, and looking up into Glorfindel’s eyes, she saw her expression mirrored back: a look of mingled pain and deep longing.

She didn’t know how she managed to right herself into a standing position again, had no idea what she said in response to some questions.

All she knew was that, as soon as Berien turned away to speak to Rímallen, she was free: "Excuse me."

She fled the hall, half-blind, stumbling into the corridor and not really knowing where she was headed. She stopped only when her palms landed against something firm, possibly one of the carved statues in the hallway, pressing her cheek against the cool stone.

She wasn’t aware of the tears running down her face until gentle hands pried her away from her current anchor, and turned her around.

Anárië closed her eyes and dug her fingers deep into the folds of Glorfindel’s tunic, inhaling deeply and allowing his scent to envelop her entirely, focusing on his presence instead of the memories of loss which seemed close to overwhelming her then and there.

"I know," he whispered, and she heard the emotion in his voice, "I know."

And he did; whether it was because of some destiny they did not themselves understand, and he could feel her turmoil and share it, or whether it was simply that their shared memories were equally painful to them both, he understood.

"I don’t think I can go back there," she mumbled, hidden against him.

Glorfindel pressed his lips to the top of her head: "I can’t either."

Anárië lifted her head at this admission; he had never admitted to any weakness of his own before. He had always been a rock for her to lean on, never faltering.

The knowledge that there was something he couldn’t endure only endeared him more to her.

Taking her hand, he kissed it, letting his lips rest there longer than was necessary, but she appreciated the gesture, and allowed him to lead her away.

"I should have excused us from the dance," he said finally, in their rooms, "I’m sorry. I wasn’t prepared for what happened."

"I wasn’t either," she admitted with a weary sigh, reaching with her hand and rubbing her temple, "But it is as it is. We can do nothing about it now."

She felt him step up behind her more than heard; his arms were welcome as they wrapped around her middle, and his chin came to her shoulder with a soft sigh.

Anárië stayed like this for a moment, before she gently detached herself: "I have something for you."

Glorfindel arched an eyebrow quizzically as she knelt in front of the dressing table and opened one of the drawers there. She presented him with a plain black box, fitting neatly onto his palm.

Inside, he found a pair of spurs.

"They were my father’s." Her voice was quiet. "I found them in my chest, when Berien returned it to me from Mithlond. I think … I think uncle Egalmoth somehow put them in, saved them, although I don’t understand how."

Glorfindel watched the light play over the intricate metal-work, feeling Ecthelion’s presence for the first time in years.

Gently, he drew her to him: "It is the best gift you could have given me, Anárië. Thank you."

She tipped her head slightly, her green eyes soft and impossibly deep, an effect that usually happened after she’d been crying. His lips touched hers of their own accord, but she didn’t pull back, instead responding in a way he would have never even hoped for anytime before.

Anárië tucked her face under his chin, melding to his frame as he held her, and listened to the steady beat of his heart under her hand.

Outside the warmth they created for themselves, the snow continued to fall.

***

Note: the titles for each part came from Away in a Manger from the late 19th century, to the most popular music variations by William J. Kirkpatrick, James R. Murray and Jonathan E. Spilman.

Happy holidays!
------------------------------------------------------------------

Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sun Nov 15, 2026 12:14 am