A Far Distant Shore
Chapter One

Rating: PG-13
Category: Humour, Drama, AU
Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit, Orophin/Elladan, Elrond/Rumil, Legolas/Gimli, Elrohir/Frost, Mauburz/Rhimlan, Amaris/Ilinuil, and others
Warnings: Slash (means: two male Elves in love), Mpreg, Attempted rape, soundly thwarted
Summary: The Valar consider Elrond’s House, Narvi is declared a garden gnome, Erestor goes to the beach, Legolas gets mad, Elrond has a question and Frost gets a shock
Notes: Meadbunny Rating: 3

Here it is, hep katz and kittens, the first chapter of the new series, ‘A Far Distant Shore.’ My canon is rusty at best and hasn’t been fired in years, so it’s likely it will be used little if at all throughout the entire series. This is all just for fun, so sit back and smile while I set up the Tablero board.

Beta’d by Maeglin the Traitor. Special guest appearance by Maeglin the Traitor.
A Maeglin the Traitor production, directed by Maeglin the Traitor.

“Oh come gather all around me, there is something you should know.
There is no place quite like this place when we get it on the go.
So pile your boots up in the corner, hang your jacket from the door.
There’s thirty people in the kitchen, and there’s always room for more.”
- Great Big Sea

The Valar looked down over Valinor from their home atop the mountain, watching as the eclectic group that was Elrond’s House began the slow process of clearing a small patch of land on which to build their new home. Elves who were great lords and advisors worked cheerfully alongside Mortals and Dwarfs and one lone but truly impressive Uruk-Hai. It was an amusing sight. But their attention was focused for the most part on one amongst them. One so fair he had been given the name of the Silmaril of Imladris.

“He is lovely,” said Lórien. “Breathtakingly so.”

Yavanna came to stand beside him, her eyes wise and deep. “I have not seen his like.”

Tulkas grinned. “That is not to be wondered at, my lady.”

She smiled. “I daresay you are right.” She sighed wistfully. “Such a pretty gem to adorn our home.” She looked towards Manwë, who stared silently down upon Ilinuil as well, watching as the sea wind blew through his long silver hair.

“Is there no other way, my lord?” she asked. “Amaris shall fade of heartbreak. It hardly seems a fitting reward for one who served Gil-galad so faithfully.”

Manwë slowly shook his head. “Nay, it is not a fitting reward. Nor is it kind to Ilinuil. Such beauty should not be cast into darkness lightly. So I say this. Should Ilinuil remain as fair within as without, then he may live here. But should the stain cast upon him by his father rise to the surface, then we have no choice but to seek his destruction. He has a little bird, does he not? And a young wolf for companions? They shall be my eyes and ears in this matter. If Ilinuil turns to evil, they shall tell me.”

“And of the Orc, my lord?’ asked Lórien.

Manwë shook his head. “There is no evil in Mauburz, there never was. She is Orc in body only.” He smiled slightly. “The House of Elrond shall prove most entertaining, I think. Let us hope we shall not be forced to pluck the Silmaril from their crown.”

***---***

“Did we not just do this?” Glorfindel howled. “Do I not recall returning from Mirkwood to find Imladris in the river? Why am I once more living in a tent? I have had so many damn houses collapse on me I may as well just dress myself up as one of the Three Little Pigs and be done with it.”

In a fit of sympathy, Glóin shoved an axe into his hand. “Go clear out that old stump.”

“Oh, thank you most kindly, Lord Dwarf!”

Erestor lounged on a broad embroidered couch with Estorel and Silivren, as well as Rabbit’s new child Rivil, his crows arranged about them in a protective trio. Glorfindel noticed him smiling at him, and raised one eyebrow.

“Have you something to say, my dearest dull Erestor?”

“No,” said Erestor, reaching down to lightly tug Silivren’s blanket up a bit higher over her tiny sleeping form. “Only that I sometimes feel a mild revulsion to your cumbersome frame when I see you shirtless and gleaming with sweat.”

“Oh, do you?” Glorfindel set down the axe and removed his shirt, then tossed it over the arm of Erestor’s couch. He picked up the axe once more, watching as Erestor’s eyes flickered over him.

“Repellent,” Erestor said, and sighed.

Glorfindel bent and kissed him. “You used to be better at this game, my love.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Erestor craned his neck to see a small group consisting of three Elves and one Dwarf approaching. “Oh goody, here come the neighbours. Let’s pretend to be normal.”

Glorfindel glanced over at Rabbit, lounging in the deep, flower-strewn grass, Bramble using his rangy frame as a desk while she coloured. Not far from them, Gimli lay on his back, snoring, Legolas resting with his head on his chest. The young Elf-Prince was in his formal robes, his circlet still on his head from attending a brief meeting with the Lords of the West earlier with his father. Mauburz and Anna were making lunch, while five baby green dragons followed them, cheeping insistently for scraps of fish. Completing the scene was Faramir, still in his Elf disguise, having a heated discussion with Rhimlan about battle tactics.

“I doubt they would believe us, my fair one.”

There was a great cheer from those in the encampment as Gaelemir and Thranduil arrived just then, bearing something large and flat as though it was a relic of great value. It was covered in the standard of Elrond’s House, and as they came to the top of the low cliff that would be the location of the new house, they removed the banner. Glorfindel and Glóin went to help set the thing up, and soon the old flood sign stood proud and tall, proclaiming its message for all to see: ‘Welcome to Fair Imladris.’ Beneath this, in a different hand, was written; ‘Beware of Orcs and Rabbits.’ Again, beneath this, in yet another hand, read; ‘Closed for Renovations.’

Elrond walked up, and accepted the small pot of paint and a brush that Rúmil passed him with the formality of a subject bringing his King a sword. Elrond pushed up the sleeves of his robe, then took the paintbrush. He dipped the brush into the paint, and proceeded to write in a neat hand: ‘Moving sale, 40% off all thimbles. Come see us at our new locale in fair Valinor.’

Gaelemir raised a small keg of King Thranduil’s best ale. “A toast!” he called. “To New Imladris, home of the barking mad Elves!”

He pulled out the cork, and there came forth a froth of white foam. Mugs were filled, and they were just about to drink when the Elves and Dwarf arrived. Celebrimbor accepted a mug from his cousin Ithilian, as did Narvi. The other two Elves lurked a short distance away.

“I love a timely arrival,” said Celebrimbor, “What are we drinking to?” He squinted at Mauburz. “Forgive me, but is that an Orc?”

“Me no Orc!” roared Mauburz. “How many times Mauburz got say that? Me have it tattooed backwards on forehead so people can read.”

Narvi stomped up to the huge Uruk-Hai and looked her up and down. “If you’re no an Orc, then what be ye?”

Mauburz looked down at him. “Me Elf, have bad accident.”

Narvi sputtered. “That’s a load of horse droppings! If you’re an Elf, then I’m a garden gnome!”

“Fine!” Mauburz abruptly picked him up and carried him to a pile of boulders set into the earth, wildflowers growing around them, and placed Narvi on one. She then handed him a hoe. “Be good and tomorrow me get you a rake too.”

Narvi raised the hoe in a threatening manner, but Celebrimbor quickly took it from him and distracted him with a pint of ale. Mauburz, meanwhile, had made her way over to the other two Elves, standing silent in their flowing robes.

“Me Mauburz the Straggler of House of Nice Lord Elrond,” she said. “Who you?”

One of the Elves eyed her nervously, while the other glanced over at said ‘Nice Lord Elrond’, who currently had beer foam on the end of his nose from the pint he was sampling. The Elf smiled shyly.

“Me Maeglin,” he said softly, then indicated his companion. “Him Maglor.”

“Maeglin?” said Mauburz. She studied him with a curious expression on her face. “You Elf they call Maeglin the Traitor?”

Elrond suddenly began choking on his beer. Silence abruptly fell as Elf and Orc faced each other.

“Well this is shaping up to be a very short stay,” said Ecthelion quietly to Glorfindel, waiting for a riot to ensue.

Maeglin considered his response, eyes large, mouth hanging. Slowly it dawned on him that the Orc meant no malice, and that being called ‘The Traitor’ may not seem like a bad thing to her. He smiled slightly. “I used to be. Now I am Maeglin the Highly Resilient to Being Thrown From High Things.”

She clapped him on the shoulder. “That good. Come sit. Meet household. Watch out for Rabbit, him bite. Nice Lord Fin taking bets on how long it be before him bite all Valinor.”

Haldir looked abruptly over at Glorfindel. “Are you?”

“It was ‘Thel’s idea,” said Glorfindel.

Ecthelion gave him a whack on the shoulder. Haldir gazed angrily at the both of them. “My husband is a creature of much gentility, when not provoked.”

“Of course he is, Haldir, we know that,” said Ecthelion, while Glorfindel nodded emphatically.

“Cretins,” Haldir muttered, then noticed Maeglin making his way over to the large, prone form, lounging wolf-like in the grass. The colour drained from his face, for Rabbit had not endured the trip over the ocean well, and his humour was completely out of sorts. Bramble meanwhile had taken her drawing board to a place that did less breathing and shifting, and there was nothing stopping her formidable mother from rearing up and rending flesh if he felt the urge.

“Lord Maeglin…” said Haldir nervously. “I fear now may not be…”

Haldir felt his stomach clench as Rabbit lunged straight up, eyes rolling back like a shark’s, jaw gaping open, and he suddenly had the upper portion of Maeglin’s face in his teeth. Haldir awaited the ghastly shaking and shredding, but they did not come. However bad Rabbit’s temper, he would not injure without cause. This was a warning, nothing more.

Noldo and Plains-Elf froze, while Maglor sat down abruptly, his legs refusing to hold him at the sight of his lover’s head in the jaws of this wild creature. Each held his ground, Rabbit daring Maeglin to move, Maeglin considering his options. After a moment he raised one hand and slowly inserted a long finger into Rabbit’s mouth, touching something.

“You know,” he said, “the front teeth are like those of any Elf, but these back ones…” He touched something else, while Rabbit’s expression slowly changed from wrath to confusion. “They are quite high and sharp, and considering how far he can open his mouth when he wants to, I’m not surprised he can remove limbs.” Maeglin fell silent for a moment, then said “Fish breath.” Pause. “Ewwwwww…”

Rabbit backed off, giving Maeglin a sidelong look before prowling to another spot on the grass. He flopped down heavily into the warmth of the sun. Maeglin dried his face on his velvet sleeve, then looked over at Maglor. “Are you well?’

“I just saw the Halls of Waiting,” said Maglor, looking pale.

“Say hi to Námo for me,” said Glorfindel.

“That’s two in just two days, Fingon and Maeglin,” said Ecthelion.

Maeglin smiled slightly. “I fear you are mistaken, Lord Ecthelion. ‘T was not a biting but a drooling. The score still stands at one.”

“He’s right,” said Ecthelion, “we made no considerations for slobberings.”

“Cretins, both of you,” said Haldir. “He is not well.”

“All of the Plains Elves are greatly out of sorts,” said Elladan, “even Frost. I hope we will not have to send them back.”

“We have been here but a day,” said Elrond. “Leave them to rest, I am sure they will recover.” He turned and gave Glorfindel and Ecthelion The Eyebrow. “And you two will not provoke them, am I understood? Nor will you ask anyone else to do it for you.”

“He knows us too well,” said Ecthelion.

Rabbit growled irritably and rose to move to yet another place. Mauburz watched him move, then looked towards a great mountain far in the distance, reaching higher than any others she had ever seen. “What that?” she asked.

“That is the mountain Oiolossë,” said Maeglin, “where the Valar dwell. From that lofty perch they watch over us.”

“Great Valar live there?”

“Yes.”

The Orc looked thoughtful. Maeglin was rather impressed with the depth of intelligence in her greenish eyes, having long considered Orcs stupid. “Mountain forbidden?” she asked.

He blinked in surprise. “Well, no, not strictly speaking. But it is their home, and we do not intrude.”

Mauburz kept staring at the mountain, as though fascinated by the hugeness and might of it. Suddenly, without saying a word, she began loping towards it, moving with the easy and tireless long strides of her kind. Astounded, the group watched her go.

“Now what does she think she’s up to?” asked Rhimlan.

Narvi scowled in the direction of the harbour far below. “Dodging work it seems. The corsairs have just arrived with trade goods. Let’s go help them unload.”

***---***

The two men sat on the deck of the corsair and watched the fair beings on the shore. They were there to trade goods with the Elves of Valinor, and were presently taking a break, sitting on a crate of silks, drinking rum, and watching the Elves.

“I love Elves,” said Brenen with a dreamy smile on his ugly face.

“They’re all right,” muttered Marrick, his companion.

“They’re gorgeous!” said Brenen with drunken enthusiasm. “So… fair, and graceful, and pretty, and…”

“And bloody arrogant,” said Marrick with a belch.

“Yeah, they are a bit.” Brenen took the rum from Marrick and had a swig. “I wants one.”

“What’s an ugly bugger like you want with an Elf?”

Brenen smiled nastily. Marrick read his expression and grinned. “All right then, so we’ll get an Elf.” He looked at the delicate pretty creatures all around. “How do you tell the birds from the blokes?”

“That’s a good question,” said Brenen, looking around. “The males got hair down to their arses and the women got no bloody tits.”

“That big fellow is male,” said Marrick, pointing out a very large male Elf with no shirt and long white hair. He was being followed by five baby green dragons.

“That one!” said Brenen, standing up and pointing out an Elf. “Her. We want her.”

Marrick looked at the Elf his friend indicated. She was slender and elegant, golden hair held back by a little tiara of sorts, and wearing robes of silver and dark grey silk. She was standing beside a Dwarf perched on a box, their arms linked, and they were kissing and flirting with one another.

“Well she’s got no bloody taste,” said Marrick. “That or her eyesight is gone. How do we get her on the ship?”

Brenen stood up and called to the pair. “Master Dwarf! We’ve a crate of silks here, it’s quite heavy. Care to help us move it?”

The Dwarf hopped off of his box and came towards the ship. Brenen took a last swig of rum, and spoke quietly to his friend. “You distract the Dwarf, I’ll grab her and get her below deck before he knows what’s up.”

The Dwarf came onto the ship, followed by the beautiful Elf, who was looking about the corsair with interest. The Men stood up and bowed, then Marrick indicated the large crate. “I can’t move it meself.”

***---***

Brenen had seized the Elf and dragged her below before she had any idea that she was in danger. That was for the best; they were not strong folk but they were too fast for him to catch. He threw her into a small cabin, then went in after her, slamming the door and snapped the lock into place. Then he turned and grinned at her.

“You and me are going to have a bit of fun now. If you’re nice to me, things will go better for you.”

The Elf stared back at him, and it was plain that she was not afraid. Her lack of fear angered him, and he grabbed the front of her robe and tore it open, then dragged her against his chest and kissed her hard. The Elf pulled back, but was not strong enough to break free from Brenen’s grasp. The ugly man felt her lips part, and thought smugly upon how free Elven women were with their charms. Then her teeth clamped down on his lower lip and she shook her head like an animal, tearing off a piece of his flesh.

He screamed with pain and shoved her back, then aimed a blow at her that she easily dodged. The torn robes fell open, and Brenen suddenly realized he did not have a female Elf. What he did not know was that the Elf he did have had slain forty-one Orcs at Helm’s Deep. As Brenen considered raping the pretty creature anyway, Legolas leapt straight up and kicked Brenen square in the teeth.

Brenen staggered back, holding his bleeding face. Realizing he was locked in a very small room with a suitably outraged Elf, he groped for a weapon, and was kicked twice more in the head, the blows so fast he did not see them coming. He tried to roll away and escape the Elf, who, with the rags of his robe blowing with motion as he leapt up to kick Brenen yet again, looked like nothing less than a huge silver gamecock.

Brenen found a large hook on a pole, used for hauling in fish, and swiped at the Elf, missing him as the pretty being ducked, then came up to mash the heel of his hand down onto the Man’s already broken and bleeding nose. The Man screamed.

“You filthy son of a whore’s dog! I’ll have you, then throw the bits left after the crew gets done with you to the sharks!”

The knife cuts came so fast that Brenen did not feel them. He saw a blur of motion, then felt hot fluid. Looking down, he saw he had been slashed and stabbed. Suddenly Brenen realized that the Elf was not the one in serious trouble. He spun around and beat his fist on the door, screaming for Marrick, then began frantically searching for the key.

Suddenly he spied it in the Elf’s hand, and he froze at the gleam in the being’s eye, and the white light that began to blaze around him. Brenen began to scream louder as the Elf came at him again.

***---***

Gimli helped the Man to drag the crate off of the ship. It was an exceptionally heavy box, and he figured it likely held brocades and velvets rather than bolts of silk.

“Damned Elves,” he grumbled, “never happy with good cotton. Always got to be fluffed up in their best.”

He expected to hear Legolas make some remark, but he heard nothing. Gimli straightened up and looked around.

“Legolas?”

There was no sign of the Elf. The Dwarf became worried. “Legolas?”

There was a sudden commotion in a nearby cabin, the sounds of a man beating against the door and yelling for help, and a lot of angry Elvish accompanied by the sound of a body hitting wood. Gimli grabbed up a large club used for killing fish and headed towards the cabin.

The door crashed open, and Brenen fell out, scrambling to get away from the Elf he had meant to violate and keep for his own. He was slashed badly in several different places, and screaming for help. Elves and crewmen converged on the scene, and Gimli caught hold of Legolas just as the ship’s captain arrived on the scene.

“Are you hurt?” Gimli asked, “Did that bastard lay a hand on you?”

Legolas was well beyond being able to speak he was so outraged, and Gimli wisely got out of his way as Legolas went for the Man again. However, the Captain put his hands up, stopping the wrathful Elf.

“He’ll be punished, Lord,” said the Man quietly. “Have no fear of that. I’ll have none of his sort on my vessel.”

Legolas screamed something in Elvish, of which Gimli only caught part: something about having the Man’s balls for fish-bait.

“There, there,” said Gimli softly, “it’s all right, I have you now.” He carefully got hold of his husband, who was well nigh smoldering with rage.

Gimli led Legolas off the ship; taking him to the pavilion they shared on the low cliff above the shore. Once safely inside, Legolas decided to go for the ‘fragile and frightened forest creature’ routine. He collapsed against his stocky husband.

“He was going to…”

“I know. There there, no need to speak about it. You just get settled on the bed, I’ll take care of you.”

Legolas seated himself on the bed, letting Gimli remove the remains of the torn robes. His long hair hung in wild disarray from under his circlet as he threw his arms around Gimli’s neck. Then the flap of the pavilion was thrown open, and in stalked Glorfindel and Ecthelion. Thranduil and Gaelemir were right behind them.

“Are you all right?” Thranduil asked. “He did not harm you, did he? What did he do?”

Legolas threw the covers over himself. “ADA! KNOCK, WILL YOU!”

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “Pardon my manners. Were you harmed?”

Legolas sniffed and shook his head. “No, Ada, he did not even lay a hand on me. He tried to steal me away and violate me, but I kicked his teeth down his throat and carved my initials onto his breast for good measure.”

“There’s a good boy,” said Thranduil, “I am proud of you. Now you rest here with Gimli, and I shall go have a word with this man’s captain. None shall abuse my child while I still draw breath.”

Legolas watched the group go, thinking that it was unlikely that this particular ship would ever pull into their port again. He lay down on the bed, and smiled as he felt Gimli lie down beside him, pulling him into his arms. He carefully stroked back the Elf’s long silky hair, then kissed his brow.

“Far too exciting for a first day, and it is only the afternoon.” Gimli held Legolas a little more tightly, and the two lay together in the peace and safety of their pavilion.

***---***

Erestor walked along the beach slowly, Silivren in his arms, Estorel racing about unsteadily on his chubby legs. Already he could tell the child more resembled his Sia than his Ada. He had Erestor’s light frame, not Fin’s broad shoulders and large hands. Whether it was his Noldo blood or his very distant Plains Elf heritage making itself known, he was not sure.

Silivren squirmed, and Erestor set her down. Not much more than two months old, she was already on her feet and could say a few basic words. Not to mention that she could already run, and her hunting instincts were positively lethal. She still lacked the speed and coordination of her Plains Elf kin, but there was no doubt about her ancestry. The white fluffy hair marked her as Fin’s child. Everything else was pure Plains Elf.

The sun shone warmly on them, and Erestor enjoyed the peace and serenity. The children ran in the sand, Silivren pouncing on small scuttling things, Estorel wading in the shallows. It was a perfect day, and as much as he loved Fin, and as fond as he was of everyone else, he was glad to have a bit of time away from them after having been locked up with them all on a ship for over a month.

He glanced about, seeing no one, and shed his boots and tunic, then his under shirt. Wearing only his breeches, he waded into the water up to his waist, then flopped backwards into the sea. He arose drenched, his back hair clinging to his throat and shoulder, and the sound of Estorel and Silivren laughing at him.

“Wet!” yelled Estorel. The kid yelled a lot. Erestor was already seeing about training him as a Herald.

Erestor played in the waves, keeping a close eye on his two children. They had found a large sea turtle to annoy. As the huge reptile slowly dug a hole with her back flippers, Estorel sat on her shell, while Silivren patted her head. Mortal children perhaps would not have been so tolerated, but the huge old turtle was not bothered by the Elflings. She scraped at the sand, oblivious to the shower of gemstones she kicked up, caring nothing for the past work of Erestor’s Noldor ancestors. Silivren pounced on a shining blue stone, a sapphire the size of her fist, and examined it closely. She then held it up and showed it to her Sia.

“Sapphire,” said Erestor.

Silivren looked at the gem, then dropped it in favour of another stone to hold up. Erestor stared at it, trying to determine its nature.

“Ruby, I think. Or garnet.”

Silivren nodded again, then gently crowned the old turtle with the sapphire and kept the ruby. Then she grabbed up a glittering white stone.

“Diamond,” said Erestor. “Give that one to Uncle Thranny, he can put it in his sword pommel. He likes the white stones.”

Silivren shook her head. “Uh-uh. Ada.”

“You want to give that one to Ada?”

“Yeah.”

“All right, give the pretty white one to Ada.”

Silivren smiled and dropped the diamond onto Erestor’s cloak, then put her ruby beside it. Erestor plunged into the waves again, and dove down to the cool green depths, moving easily through the water. He briefly followed the course of a small shark, but with a flick of its tail the creature left him far behind. Erestor surfaced just in time to see a lone figure approaching them. He swam closer to shore and stood up, dripping wet. He stepped out of the water, then smiled as he recognized his Lord. He bowed to Elrond, unaware of the bits of kelp in his hair.

Elrond smiled broadly at his advisor. “I am glad to see you enjoying yourself.”

Erestor spread his arms, indicating the beauty of the day and his surroundings. “Who could not? A swim would do you no harm either, my Lord.”

Elrond seemed to think about that, then shook his head. “Nay not today. Another time.”

Erestor raised an eyebrow. “Oh come, my Lord, afraid you will look silly?”

“Erestor you have a crab in your hair.”

Erestor reached up, his fingers touching the tiny irate sea creature. He carefully untangled it from his hair and released it, then sat down in the warm shallow water. “’T is rather a long walk from here to the encampment just to tell me I am trapping small helpless animals in my hair.”

“Rather, yes.” Elrond seated himself on the soft sand, looking over at Erestor’s two children. “You are my advisor, and you have always advised me well. Now I find I must come to you for wisdom yet again.”

“Rúmil,” said Erestor.

Elrond nodded. “Aye, my Rúmil. And another matter, that for now disturbs me more.”

Erestor sat in the water, and Elrond gazed back at him. Half-clad and soaked, his hair hanging wild and loose, it was not so hard to picture Erestor as the descendant of Rabbit’s people.

“What matter would that be?” asked Erestor.

Elrond lowered his gaze to the sand. “Elladan and Elrohir wish to see their Nana.”

Erestor looked puzzled. “As well they should, she is their Nana. Do you not wish for them to see her?”

“Quite the contrary, I do wish for them to see her. I would like to see her myself. But Celebrían has renounced us, Erestor. She does not wish to see either myself, or the children. She will have her first grandchild in a week, and Arwen sent me word that she shall be a mother herself by Yule Fest.”

“Ladies bearing children,” said Erestor dryly, “Such a novel concept.”

Elrond gave Erestor The Eyebrow, and the advisor bowed his head in apology. “My Lord, I do not understand, why will she not see you and the children? Elladan and Elrohir have grown to be fine young Elves, and Elrohir himself has achieved so much, being both a Healer and the Shaman and Liaison for Frost’s people. Even if they were simply layabouts, they are still her children.”

As he spoke, Erestor glanced over at his own babies, still wrapped up in the doings of the great sea turtle. He could not imagine turning them away for any reason. Elrond too looked at the small Elflings.

“Erestor, she has forsaken her family utterly, she wishes only to fade and to look upon us no more. I had hoped, when we last were in Valinor, that her time here would have healed her heart and mind, but she seems no better to me. I would rather take my own life than say this to my children, but I feel in my heart that she blames Elladan and Elrohir for getting captured by the Orcs.”

Erestor’s jaw dropped in horror. “They were but babes, what blame could they hold?”

“That is <i>why</i> she blames them, but for them she could have escaped.”

“That is cold as it is cruel, and I do not blame you for not telling them. I take it they likewise do not know she has forsaken them, as well as you and her own life?”

“They know she has forsaken me, indeed that was something we had to discuss before I could bind to Rúmil. But the rest… I did not know how to tell them. And now I must, for I do not wish for them to go to her and learn this the hard way.” He looked at Erestor. “I need you to help me speak to them.”

Erestor nodded. “This I will do. I do not see why you should have to do this alone. Fin will help, he loves those two as though they are his own.”

Elrond smiled. “I am glad. Ai, in this matter I am a coward, Erestor.”

Erestor smiled at him fondly. “There are some things that take the heart out of the boldest of us, my Lord.”

From down the beach came a loud clear call. “ADA!!! ADA WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Elrond and Erestor stood up, looking in the direction of the call. It was none other than Elrohir, and there was a note of pure panic in his voice.

“I am here, child, what is it?” Elrond called back.

Elrohir was clad in very little, wearing only the leather kilt that the Shaman wore and carrying his spear. As soon as he heard his father’s voice he came running, his long hair blowing.

“ADADADADADADADADADADADADADADADADADADADA!!!!!”

He ran up to his father and pounced on him, eyes large with fear. Elrond was knocked onto his backside, Elrohir on his chest, clutching onto the front of his father’s robe. “ADAYAHAFTACOMEQUICK!”

Elrond was not amused. “Child give me one good reason why I should not turn you over my knee.”

“FROSTISHAVINGABABYRIGHTFREAKINGNOW!”

Elrond sighed heavily. “Lovely. Your mate is bearing your first child, and you come looking for me. Very well, show me where he is, providing you can find him.”

Elrohir got off his father and helped him to his feet. “I know where he is, Ada, he is on your bed. Now hurry, please!”

“<i>MY</i> bed!”

“Yes well Rúmil wanted to speak to him about child birth, so…”

“So he thought he would give him a demonstration. How admirable. Erestor, you and I must finish this conversation later.”

Erestor watched the pair depart quickly, then rose to his feet and walked to where his children sat with the large turtle. Together the three of them watched her lay her eggs in the sand, while Erestor vowed that no matter what evils may befall him in his life, he would not use them as an excuse to abandon his children.

***---***

Elrohir went with his father, walking quickly down the beach back to the encampment.

“He is early,” remarked Elrond.

Elrohir nodded. “Yes he is, and the labour came on suddenly. I do not understand what happened. An Elf and his Nana came to the encampment to greet us, and welcome our house to Valinor. I was speaking with them, when Gaelemir came up and became very hostile with them. I was shocked. Then Frost came out of the tent and saw them, and…” The young Elf shook his head. “Ada, there is much going on here I do not understand.”

“What was the name of the Elf?” asked Elrond.

Elrohir had to think a moment before he recalled. “Hannilgil,” he said.