Flame of Gondolin, novella: A Christmas Carol

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.


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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?