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A Far Distant Shore Rating:R Master Erestor gave me an adorable, charming little plotbunny with the cutest floppy ears. However the moment she closed her IM window it got completely out of control and would not do what I told it. The result is this chapter. |
It was spring in Valinor, and the weather was willful as a young stallion. Currently the sky was black and boiling, and the rain pounded on the new grass like the hooves of the horses of Rohan. All the encampment was silent, as the folk who made up the community of Imladris were huddled within their tents and pavilions, awaiting the sun, each in their own way. Elrond and Rúmil snuggled together in bed, while Haldir stood in the doorway of his tent, holding Rivil and watching Bramble and Fang play in the ponds forming in the grass, getting soaked and covered in debris. Estorel had decided to put on his Ada ’s formal silk garb, and was currently playing in the mud with his sister, Silivren, all under the watchful gaze of Orophin , while Erestor and Glorfindel spent some precious time together, swimming in the rolling grey surf. Ilinuil slept, feeling Amaris’ strong arm about him, while Lindir grumbled about fixing breakfast for the beautiful silver Elf. It his tent, Gimli puffed his pipe, listening to the pounding rain. Legolas was a tangle of blankets and blond hair on the bed, unwilling to face such a cold and wet day. Gimli smiled, and mused on other times, watching his beautiful lover sleep. His mind took him back to the day of Aragorn’s coronation, or rather the evening that followed it. The day had been fair, but the evening brought a warm rain. It was enough to discourage some of the revelers, but most stayed in the courtyards and gardens, breathing the fragrance of the wet gardens. The Elves especially had enjoyed it, and were shedding their cool exteriors to play in the shallow puddles. Gimli had found himself huddling under a stone arch, watching Legolas, and realizing he had become more fond of him than he had permitted himself to believe. He was watching him talking to some of the Lords of the realm: tall Men, handsome, brave and strong. The others were merely curious, but one was plainly enchanted, and Legolas was playing back. As the night fell, and the mist and rain closed in, Gimli finally made his way back to his quarters, still hearing Legolas laughing with his new friend, and wondering why every bone in his Dwarven body was shouting at him to go pummel the rogue. But then, Legolas was free to go spend time with whomever he so chose. Part of Gimli said he should not be jealous and upset, and he could not think why he would be. Perhaps, he told himself, it was simply because they had spent so much time together for so long. Yes, that was it. There could be no other reason. For the better part of the year, he had Legolas’ company and friendship all to himself, and now he had to share it. Unhappy but resigned, Gimli went to his room. It was a wonderful room, fit for the friend of the King. It was a grand chamber, cut of white stone, with great vaulted ceilings, draped with tapestries. The vast bed with its four high posts supported regal draperies of velvet and fur, and the fire within the huge fireplace of carven stone gave the chamber a warm, cozy glow. It was a fine chamber, just off the courtyard, but far too large for one Dwarf. Gimli removed his wet garb, changed into a dry robe, and sat down to smoke a pipe and cast a critical eye over some gems he had found here and there over the course of his adventures. He firmly resolved not to think about the Elf, or where he was, or what he was doing, and whom he was doing it with. The rain exploded, changing from a light sprinkling to a torrent. Outside in the courtyard, Gimli heard folk departing in all directions, laughing. He listened hard for the sound of an Elven voice, but did not hear one. He grumbled under his breath and forced himself to inspect a sapphire for flaws. He heard a tap at the door, and looked up, surprised. He set aside the stone and his gem cutter’s glass, and went to answer it. He swung the huge door open, and paused at the sight before him. It was Legolas, drenched to the skin, shivering. The fine grey silk clung to him, and his gold hair ran with rivulets of water. Thin trails also made their way down his face, and slid down his fair white throat. Elf and Dwarf studied each other uncomfortably. “My bed is too large,” said Legolas softly. “Is it?” said Gimli. He swallowed, then said, “Oh. Well, yes, I can see your point. Mine is far too large for me as well.” “Perhaps it would seem less of a waste if we….shared one?” Gimli nodded. “Aye, you have a point. Come in.” Legolas entered, trailing drops of water. He shed the grey tunic, and accepted the towel Gimli handed him from beside the washbasin. Gimli put his glass away, and pulled back the covers, getting into bed. Legolas dried himself, then hung up his garments. Finally he slid into bed beside the Dwarf, rolling against him and putting his head on his chest, shivering. Gimli chuckled. Nothing better than a Dwarf for warming the bones, Legolas had always said during their travels. Saying nothing, they fell into a contented sleep. Gimli shook his head, rousing himself from thoughts of the past, and smiled at the sight of Legolas, curled tightly under the covers. Deciding that there were worse ways to wait out the rain, he undressed and got into bed beside him. Legolas rolled towards Gimli, putting his head on his chest. There they dozed away the wet morning. ***---*** Rúmil quietly entered the pavilion and peered inside. It took a m oment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness within, and there, on the bed, was the great lean form of Rabbit. He was not surviving Frost’s loss well, nor easily. He hardly left the tent, and had grown thin and wasted. His black hair was dry, and matted with dirt and debris. He did not look up as Rúmil came to sit on the bed, nor did he react as he felt him touch his hair. Rúmil found himself half wishing Rabbit would snap at his face, they way he used to, but no. Rabbit was barely alive, and only the presence of Rivil, Bramble and Haldir kept him from fading. Rúmil picked up a comb and began carefully sorting the mats, a job he was not likely to finish. He cleared his throat quietly, then said “We have much to discuss, thee and I.” “About what? You are my child.” “I know. But I have questions I need answered. Did you know about me?” “No,” said Rabbit softly. “Had I known, I would have come to see you, to teach you who you were.” “How did you and mother meet? How long were you lovers? She has told me nothing of you.” Rabbit slowly sat up, unwell but still regal, despite his present condition. He gave Rúmil an odd look. “Lovers? We were never lovers, child.” “Well surely you must have been for me to be here.” “I am not saying I never coupled with her. But there is a difference between being lovers and what we did.” “I’m not sure I understand.” Rabbit looked into Rúmil’s wide eyes, not enjoying what he was about to tell him about his Nana. “I was in the stream, fishing, catching small things to eat. It was a beautiful day, warm, and sunny. I was being careless, but one cannot be cautious all the time. It was spring, and new life and growth was all around. Perhaps I had made my mind up to be less of a ghost, I do not remember now. But she walked into the stream, and I did not flee. We gazed at one another, I as strange to her as she to me. I had never seen a woman close up before. She was different, her scent was different. But I did not approach.” “What happened?” asked Rúmil softly. “We stared at each other. I suppose she was waiting for me to flee, but I was not in a mood for taking flight. Besides, I was hungry, and the plants and crayfish were plentiful there. I shoved my head under water and resumed eating, like some two-legged moose.” Rúmil giggled. Rabbit almost smiled. “When I surfaced, she was nude. I confess she had my full attention, though it was not lust I felt. More like mild revulsion. As I said, I had never seen a woman before, and certainly not a naked one. I was by now thinking it was indeed time I left, for though I knew little of the Glaur-Iyre, I knew enough to understand that any lover she had would not be amused at our situation. But she was beckoning me, though I did not understand what she wanted. Fish I assumed. After all I am a Thrayre-Iy, and we are rather basic in our assumptions. But hunting for some strange naked Elf woman I had just met was out of the question, that sort of thing can get you married when you’re not expecting it.” Rúmil smiled. “So you will not fish for strangers.” “Our ways may seem bizarre to you, but we have a carefully structured society, and very formal rules for courting. Acting the part of the provider implies one is prepared for a much deeper commitment. But I soon realized she did not want fish. Especially when she went down on all fours and showed me her backside.” Rúmil’s jaw dropped. “My MOTHER?! MY MOTHER DID THAT?! NANA?! And what did you do?” “What do you think I did?” “MY MOTHER! Oh by the Valar I can NOT believe this. Did you know she got with child? No you already said you did not. How did Ada find out?” “I suppose someone must have seen us and told him. We were just considering our third performance when he showed up with four other warriors. I fled, never to see her again, until that day in Lord Elrond’s house.” Rúmil just shook his head. “How could she? I am the youngest! That means she already had Haldir and Orophin , and had been bound to my father for many years! How could she just give herself to a stranger whose name she did not even know!” “I am sorry, Rúmil. Often we do not wish to know what our parents get up to. I wish I had a more fair tale to tell you.” “Well it is my own fault for asking, but it makes me wonder who sired my brothers!” “That I cannot say, but plainly I fathered you. And had I known, you would have seen me long before I bound to your brother.” “Such a m ess,” grumbled Rúmil. “And I have so much to learn.” He looked at Rabbit with sea-green eyes. “Rabbit I do not with to become a m other. I fear it, more than I have words to say.” “It is easily enough avoided, child. There are herbs that stop the fertility cycle, as well as herbs for ending a pregnancy. Not the cruel way that my… Frost… endured, but safer, easier ways. And there are ways to induce fertility. All this I can teach you.” Rabbit looked at Rúmil, his eyes dull, and his faced haggard. He reached out one scarred hand to touch his child’s golden hair. “Here I spent centuries thinking I was alone, when I had wee ones all over the map. You are over five hundred, are you not, child?” “I am. Why?” Rabbit reached for the small case he kept his needles and ink in. “You are the descendant of a long and proud lineage. We must name you.” “Name me?!” Rúmil eyed the needles with trepidation. “Name me what? I have a name, I’m Rúmil.” Rabbit looked towards the Elf who sat beside him on the bed; this child who held his blood, but had the long golden hair and fine features of the Glaur-Iy. “You are an Elf of two worlds. You have the appearance of the Golden Elf who was your mother, but inside…” Rabbit placed his hand on Rúmil’s stomach. “You are like your Aie. So we will call you Glaur-Lar. Golden Spirit.” ***---*** “They are so beautiful,” said Fëanor. “I watch them every chance I get.” Elrohir stood next to the tall Elf, gazing out the window of his great black cathedral of a h ome, down to the jewel-strewn beach. There, they could see a small group of Plains Elves roaming the shoals, seeking fish in the falling rain. They were wet, and as wild as the horses of Rohan, and equally as shaggy. These were the Plains Elves of the Faery Realm, come through the door Melkor had caused with his discord. Their hair was wild and uncombed, tangled, black and heavy. They were thin as greyhounds, clad only in lengths of dark grey fabric wrapped about their waists, with simple tassels hanging from the hem, decorated with shell and polished stone beads. The five children with the eight adults were naked. The Elves were alert, pausing every so often to scent the wind. At the first sign of danger, they would be back through the hidden gate and into their own realm. “They know only gentleness,” said Fëanor softly. “I never see them fight, or disagree, or harm one another.” He smiled, a gesture that never failed to make him look crafty and plotting. “I have tried to approach them, but they flee. I suppose they must sense what I was.” Elrohir took the drink out of Fëanor’s hand and had a sip. He had never known an Elf who could drink so, not even Glorfindel, who had been known to consume astonishing quantities of wine and spirits before he bound to Erestor. Fëanor and Elrohir had made an unlikely pair of companions, but there was no denying the two had become friends. It was a pairing that gave each other comfort. Elrohir found he relied on Fëanor’s vast experience for coping with his chaotic life, and Fëanor was pleased to have the company. There was no underlying tension, no hidden desire. Just an affection and delight in one another’s presence, despite their many and varied differences. Elrohir was a frequent visitor to Fëanor’s house, and Fëanor seemed pleased to have Elrohir’s two children crashing up and down his halls. The twins could certainly run; they seemed to take a pure delight in it the way fawns and colts did, though they did not yet have the grace of their elders. More than once Elrohir cringed as some priceless object that had survived the millennia smashed to the floor and shattered. Fëanor would just raise an eyebrow and pour himself another drink. Something hit the floor with a loud ‘BONK!’ and Fëanor sighed. Elrohir shook his head, then took Fëanor’s leather-gloved hand. “Shall I introduce you to them?” “I’ve met your children, penneth,” he said as something metal clanged end over end down the hall, accompanied by giggles. Fëanor grabbed for the wine. Elrohir laughed. “I meant the Plains Elves on your beach. I know their tongue. I should like my children to meet their kin who have dwelled in the Realms.” The metal object ‘ponged’ down the stairs. Fëanor drained his glass and laughed. “Anything to convince them to stop wrecking my house!” Elrohir laughed, then called his children. Soon he saw them, black as night, gold eyes burning. They ran up to their Ada and leapt on him. They were already roughly half his size, and very long of limb. “Let us go meet your kin,” he said, “lest poor Fëanor grow weary of your shenanigans!” Nocturne showed his Ada a severely dented silver statue of Yavanna. Fëanor poured himself a drink and began walking towards the door. Elrohir took the statue and set it aside, then, with Moonshadow trailing after, followed Fëanor. They walked down a winding stone path cut into the cliff, Fëanor leading the way. His long black hair and black cloak fluttered about him, making him look like some strange crow. He was always dressed like a lord, and usually in black. He was beautiful in a fell sort of way, and there was something just a bit frightening about accompanying an Elf who had once slaughtered his own, and burned the White Ships of Túna. The rain had stopped by the time they reached the beach, and there, not far away, was the small clan of Plains Elves. They did not appear to notice the group, but Elrohir knew they were aware of their presence. He watched as his children raced past him, and the huge Clan Warrior raised his head to look at them. Completely undaunted, they leapt up to take his lobster, even daring to pull the meat right out of his mouth. The enormous Elf growled, but Elrohir recognized the tone. He was not angry. The Shaman stepped out, his face tattooed with the stylized mask of the horse. Frost had taught Elrohir that every clan had its own shaman animal; their own was the Fox. Judging by the markings on this group, theirs was the Horse. The entire clan stopped what it was doing and looked as Fëanor approached, wreathed in fluttering black silk. The Clan Warrior snorted at him. Elrohir smiled. “I think I have found why they are wary of you.” “What would that be? My charm? My dashing good looks? The reek of alcohol?” “That black cape.” “The cape stays, darling,” said Fëanor, sipping from his glass. “I’m far too handsome to be seen without it. There could be an incident.” Elrohir rolled his eyes, then approached the Shaman, using the silent tongue of the Plains Elves to communicate. They greeted each other, then Elrohir was forced to stand and be thoroughly snooped by the Warrior, who plainly didn’t know how he felt about this Glaur-Iy in their midst. Finally deciding that Elrohir was not a threat, he went back to the shore to meet up with his heavily pregnant therlu. Nocturne and Moonshadow had already found someone to play with, and for once their games did not involve smashing Fëanor’s furniture. Fëanor himself seemed happy just to watch these beautiful beings. He seated himself elegantly on a rock and allowed himself to be cautiously explored by a couple of youngsters. Elrohir was looking for something to feed his twins, when he caught sight of a reflection in the water. It was a Plains Elf, a BIG one, walking past, heading towards Fëanor. Elrohir had seen Plains Elves before, and he certainly seen a few of truly inspiring size, but nothing like this fellow. He was broad chested and long limbed, more like the Noldo warriors of old than a Plains Elf. His hair was wet, and hung down his back, wild and shaggy. His legs were covered in bits of sand and debris, and he was dressed in the same long wrap, this one dyed indigo. He may well have been unremarkable save for one thing. He was blond. The wild hair was a dark gold, as was the tanned skin. When he paused to look at Fëanor, his eyes were not yellow-green, but a golden amber. He had a tattoo in the pit of his throat – a h ummingbird, which meant he had once been the therlu of a Warrior, possibly the fellow who had preceded the current one. Warriors often died, as their duties were frequently dangerous. Elrohir watched the great golden Elf pass him, heading towards Fëanor, his movements cautious. He paused, and sniffed the air, looking uncertain, as though he was not quite sure of what he smelled. The he turned from Fëanor to Elrohir, and the young Elf cringed as this massive being towered over him. The golden Elf sniffed him, then moved closer, as though something about Elrohir sparked a m emory. He moved closer, sniffing, then growled and wrapped his jaws around the back of his neck. Fëanor’s heart almost failed him, but Elrohir was undaunted. He elbowed the big guy in the diaphragm. “Stop that you silly nit! I don’t care what you smell, you don’t know me.” The Elf barked at him, then uttered a sharp yip-yap. Elrohir stood in confusion, staring back at him. “I don’t know you.” The Elf plainly disagreed, filling his lungs and offering up a skin-peeling scream that cleared the beach of waterfowl. The rest of the Clan plainly thought their golden friend had lost his mind: they began quietly but steadily moving away from him. “Elrohir what is that oh-so-lovely idiot doing to you?” Fëanor asked dryly as the large Elf began shoving Elrohir around. “He thinks he knows me!” “Ah. And this is a customary greeting, is it? I do not have to run for my sword?” “No he’s just playing. OOF! STOP IT!” The Elf wrapped his jaws around Elrohir’s face, a playful gesture, and one far too informal for new acquaintances. The Elf was convinced he knew Elrohir, and the gesture proved once and for all this was no Plains Elf. His teeth did not have the flesh-rending cutting ridges at the back of the jaw. “I’m so glad we don’t greet each other that way,” said Fëanor. Elrohir decided not to mention the antics of his father’s archers, who frequently impersonated the Plains Elves. “Eyech. Fish. Look I have no idea who you are. So stop breathing caviar on me.” The huge golden Elf growled softly, then nipped him. Fëanor raised an eyebrow. “He’s not going to try to mate with you at this point, is he?” Elrohir scowled at Fëanor. “NO! He’s just happy.” “When my dog gets that happy I have to look to the virtue of my leg.” “Fëanor! You’re not helping.” “And unless he draws blood I have no intention of it. Are you quite certain you do not know him? He seems quite convinced that he knows you.” Elrohir managed to get free of the Elf’s embrace and stood back, looking at him. Then finally he said in the silent tongue; “I do not know you.” “But I know you, Yaehei. Or rather, I knew your Aie, and knew him well. Tell me, where is he?” “The far side of the island, but…” Elrohir watched him turn and bolt, moving down the beach at a great rate, wondering when and where his father could have met this Elf. ***---*** The golden Elf made his way down the beach at a rapid rate, his heart full of joy. At last he understood so much, all the pieces of his life fit into place. All was becoming clear to him. He made his way to a place on the beach, moving with the quick, alert actions of a Plains Elf. He found a spot, then got down to his knees and began pawing at the sand. He dug deep, and reached a small sack. He pulled it out of the sand, then began making his way down to a small village, seeking out a particular shop. The shop keep was appalled at the shaggy, ratty being who entered his establishment, but rose to politely greet him. “May I assist you, sir?” The Golden Elf spoke with a thick accent, his deep voice soft and unsure. It had been so long since he had spoken the tongue of his own kin, the Glaur-Iy. “I require good garb. I am going to see a friend I have long missed.” He smiled wryly. “I do not wish our first meeting after so long to be marked by me smelling of the beach and looking like an unsuccessful pirate.” The Elf laughed, then bowed. “I have all you require, my Lord.” ***---*** Erestor leaned over the desk, and sighed as his sleeve tipped over the silver ink well. He muttered to himself as he began dabbing at the mess with a cloth, hoping that the grand, antique writing desk was not too badly stained. He righted the well, and looked about for another cloth. Glorfindel stepped into the pavilion, and paused at the sight of his husband bent over the desk. He cocked an eyebrow, and ran an appreciative eye over Erestor’s body. It suddenly occurred to him that, with pregnancy, birth and travel, there had been sad little opportunity to enjoy the delights that the slim, strong body promised. He cast a quick glance out the door, and grinned as he saw Elrond, along with Maedhros and Fingon, take a detour to go look at the beautiful tapestries being woven in anticipation of the new house. Grinning, he closed the flap and slipped up behind his husband, gently placing his hands on his hips. Erestor glanced over his shoulder to see who was there, then turned his attention back to the ink once more. “Fin would you find me something to clean this up with?” Glorfindel didn’t answer, though Erestor felt the hands move, and heard the rustling of fabric, so he assumed that his husband had gone to find cleaning rags. He uttered a quick gasp of surprise as he felt his robes hiked up, and a h ard penis slip into him. “Fin! Here?! NOW?! What if Lord Elrond walks in?” Glorfindel grinned at him. “Then we had best be quick and quiet, hadn’t we?” “Fin…” “Hush, darling.” “Fin I will get you for this.” “Oh good idea. You can have me in the healer’s tent.” Erestor rolled his eyes, but was quickly giving into the sensation of Glorfindel moving inside of him, as well as the naughtiness of the situation. He leaned forward, closing his eyes and making a soft sound of pleasure. “We could be in a lot of trouble for this….” That seemed to be what was exciting Glorfindel. He pulled Erestor closer to him, moaning softly, his thrusts slow as he savoured the sensation. His strong hands tightened on Erestor’s hips, and suddenly he made a strangled sound, clutching him hard and shuddering as he tried to remain quiet, gasping once, then thrusting forcefully as he came inside of him, his semen forming cooling wet trails between Erestor’s thighs. Then, before Glorfindel could react, Erestor turned and grabbed him, surprisingly strong for one who was not a warrior, and pushed him down to all fours on the floor. “Darling what are you…. ACK!” “If you can then I can,” said Erestor, grinning as he shoved into Glorfindel. “Yes but do you have to do it so hard?” “No oil.” “I noticed,” said Glorfindel, teeth grinding together in discomfort. “You started it.” “I should know better than to start anything with a Noldo.” Erestor wasn’t quite certain what came over him, and he was rather rough on Glorfindel. In fact later he was rather surprised his husband put up with it. But right now all he could think about was how incredibly good it felt just to engage in a little dangerous sex in Elrond’s temporary office. Even as the almost violently intense rush of pleasure of his climax overwhelmed him, he could not forget the sheer absurdity of what they were doing. He spent himself inside of Glorfindel, and the two collapsed to the rugs on the floor, giggling at each other as they embraced, kissing. Their formal robes were rumpled and wrinkled, their hair coming loose from their braids, and Glorfindel’s circlet was tilted sideways. Erestor was about to straighten it, when they suddenly heard Elrond approaching. They leapt to their feet and tried to look dignified as the Lord of Imladris entered, accompanied by Maedhros and Fingon, and of course Rúmil. Elrond stopped and looked at the pair. “What on Ard a h appened to you two?” he asked. Erestor cleared his throat, attempting to steady his breathing. “Ink spilled,” he said. Elrond looked the pair up and down. “What spilled it, a Balrog?” “Actually it happened while we were fucking on your desk,” said Glorfindel. Erestor’s eyes grew huge, and he thought he would surely die as his face grew hot. Elrond, Maedhros and Fingon just stared at the Balrog-Slayer and his mortified husband, then Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Glorfindel, do not make up such absurd and, dare I say, obscene tales. If you have no concern for your own dignity, please think of your husband.” “I agree,” said Erestor tersely, kicking Fin’s ankle. Glorfindel took his hand and planted a chaste kiss on one fine cheekbone. “Sorry darling.” “Not nearly as sorry as you are going to be.” The flap of the pavilion was thrown back, and in stepped a large, impressive Elf. He was dressed as a Lord, in robes of dark blue and silver. He wore a circlet, which held back his heavy mane of gold hair. He was tanned and strong and tall, and the great pavilion seemed too small to hold him. He walked straight up to Elrond, put his arms around him and kissed him. Erestor looked towards Rúmil, who was speechless with outrage. Then he grabbed for his sword and pulled it, bristling with wrath. “You! Unhand Lord Elrond, and TAKE YOUR LIPS OFF MY HUSBAND!” The tall Elf kissed Elrond slowly, passionately, then, at last, released him. The two stared at each other. “Mae govannen, my dearest friend and herald.” Rúmil gasped in disbelief, then dropped to one knee, as did Glorfindel. Erestor still had no idea who he was looking at, but did not fight when Glorfindel pulled him down as well. Elrond simply stared at the beautiful Elf before him. At last he spoke. “Gil?” he said, his tone uncertain. “None other, dear one. It has been far too long.” ***---*** Glóin was drunk. It was barely mid-day, and the old Dwarf was roaring plastered, though in a very good mood. His son was back, and he had Berhin’s clan to keep him company, so he was no longer one of only two Dwarfs on an island full of Elves. Good enough reason to celebrate. Currently Clan Glóin and Clan Berhin were having a picnic on a cliff over looking the sea. However, an ide a h ad recently occurred to him, and he was braying it to the crystal blue sky above. “It’s not fair!” he slurred, waving a tankard of ale. “Gimli has an Elf, Berhin has an Elf, an’ all I have is me left hand!” Legolas howled with laughter, while Gimli turned flaming red. “Da’!” Pearl rolled her eyes, then gathered up her skirts as she stood. “I think I’ll go pick wildflowers,” she said. “Good idea,” said her father, keeping an amused eye on his drunken friend. Berhin turned to Glóin. “Now why would you want an Elf?” “I deserve one! I’m handsome, funny, intelli-burrrrrrp-gent.” “Well mannered,” added Legolas. “I’m a bloody good catch. Some Elf would be lucky to have me.” The old Dwarf looked around with bleary eyes. “There’s one!” Fade raised his head, and, chewing, eyed the old Dwarf running towards him. He crunched chitin and flesh, bits of debris clinging to his wet body as he stood in the wide, shallow pond, crafted by the Elves to hold fish and clean water. He glanced towards Mari-Ton, raising an eyebrow. “He MUST be joking.” “Mad,” said Mari-Ton. “Oh there’s the crayfish calling the lobster ugly.” Mari-Ton stuck his tongue out. “Well we had best decide on evasive maneuvers, the old fart is closing…. relatively quickly.” “You go left.” As Glóin closed in, the two Plains Elves parted and moved in opposite directions, hardly faster than a lazy walk. Glóin paused, debating what to do, then chased after Mari-Ton. The tall Elf glanced over his shoulder, then, with absolutely no effort, lowered his head and shifted to a run, leaving the old Dwarf standing alone with his jaw hanging. “Bloody hell! By the hairy nuts of Tulkas would ye look at that thing move!” Legolas fell over laughing. “DA’!” yelled Gimli. Brenin glanced at his father. “I think I’ll go help Pearl pick flowers.” Berhin chuckled. “Off you go, boy. Here, take your bow, see if you can land us a rabbit or two.” “Yes, Da’.” Glóin watched Mari-Ton run, awe-struck at the grace and power of him. He was joined up by two of the youngsters, and they began chasing each other playfully, accelerating to speeds Glóin would have never thought a two-legged creature capable of. “By Aulë!” he said, admiration in his tone. “Fancy a Plains Elf?” asked Legolas. “Oh nay, no, not at all. Even I know when I’m too short and slow. But a few more heirs would nae sit so ill wi’ me. But what Plains Elf or young lassie would have me at my age?” Legolas flinched at the word ‘heirs’, and Gimli put a comforting hand on his back. Glóin looked up at the fair sky, breathing in the cool wind. He was far too drunk for this early in the day. “Well, no more for me. I’m going for walk and sober up. I’ll see you children at dinner.” They watched him go, walking away towards the path that led to the beach. Berhin reached out to stroke Lossenaur’s long, red-black hair. “I like your Da’,” he said to Gimli. “There’s not another like him, that’s for sure,” said Gimli. “Though it wouldna’ do him harm to recall he is in the home of the Valar.” “I doubt Tulkas is offended,” said Berhin, “but you’re right. He’s an irreverent old cuss and no mistake.” Gimli smiled, then looked to Legolas. The Elf had a look of concern on his pretty features. Gimli leaned forward and whispered to him “Da’ and I both told you to forget about this ‘heirs’ nonsense. We’re nay going to produce any anyway, so stop fretting.” “But it would mean so much to your father. All he has is us.” “And we’re immortal so that’s enough.” Legolas glanced up as he saw Haldir stroll by with Rivil in his arms, Bramble running ahead with some sort of spotted animal. They reached the pond, and the beast paused for a drink. Bramble turned to wave to the four lounging on the cliff. “See my puppy?” she yelled. They stared back. “Puppy?” said Berhin doubtfully. “That’s not a puppy! It’s a starved cat!” yelled Meril from behind a ridge. “IT’S A PUPPY!” screamed Bramble at a pitch and volume that made small birds and animals flee. “I’m cured,” said Legolas, “no more fretting over lack of children for me.” ***---*** “Darling?” Erestor paused as he heard the sugary, slightly pleading sound of his husband’s voice. He turned to look at him. Fin was standing in the doorway with the hopeful expression of an Elfling clutching some newly found animal. Behind him were Gaelemir and Ecthelion. Erestor had found himself referring to this particular group as Melkor’s Little Angels. “What is it, Fin?” “Well I was wondering if you minded if ‘Thel and Gael and I went into Túna for a few drinks and looked up some friends.” Erestor studied the trio, each grinning in a h opefully placating manner. They were up to something, but Erestor didn’t see any reason to tell the group of friends they couldn’t go play. He only hoped Túna survived it. “Sure, love,” said Erestor. Glorfindel positively skipped over to his husband and kissed him. “See you soon, darling.” Then he, Ecthelion, and Gaelemir were gone. Erestor listened as they got onto their horses and rode away. He narrowed his eyes, then looked at his two children. “Your Ada is up to something,” he said. ***---*** Evening fell, and the tension in the tent of Elrond and Rúmil was palpable. Erenion Gil-galad was back from the Halls of Waiting, and Rúmil thought he would be ill with the implications. He knew how much Elrond had loved him, and how through the centuries he had mourned him. They sat together, picking at their evening meal, the air about them leaden. Rúmil drew a breath, and forced himself to say; “I heard he asked you to go for a walk with him this evening.” Elrond nodded, picking at his dinner. “Yes. He and I have much to discuss.” “Are you going back to him?” Elrond glanced up, watching Rúmil with a steady gaze. “No. I love you, Rúmil. Gil was very precious to me, in all likelihood he always will be. But you are no less precious. You have nothing to fear from old lovers.” “It’s just…it has been such a h ard time for you lately.” “It has been difficult for both of us. But I bonded to you, and it is you I love.” He smiled. “I do not turn my back on a Silmaril simply because I recall the beauty of a diamond.” Rúmil gave him a jaundiced stare. “Need I remind you that the Silmarils were lost or destroyed?” “Rúmil you are being difficult.” Elrond rose and walked to his lover, taking his hand and kneeling before him. “Do all the times I stayed by your side in the past mean so little? True we have not been together long, but we have been through much.” “It was different. This is someone you love so dearly.” “And I love you no less. And if I did leave you for him, what honour would be in that? A faithless lover is no lover at all, Rúmil. And I assure you, I am nothing if not faithful.” “I am afraid none the less. I do not question your loyalty, but demands of the heart make cheaters of us all.” Elrond smiled, then softly kissed him. “I do not swear I will not watch him walk, or think on past delights. But I do swear this. I love you.” He felt relief as he saw a faint smile on Rúmil’s face. “I will not be long. Should you need me, I will be on the beach under the cliff. All right?” Rúmil nodded. “All right.” Rúmil watched Elrond rise and leave the tent, but his heart was no lighter. He sat and picked at his dinner, then finally put it on the floor for one of Thranduil’s hounds to eat. Rúmil watched the great brindle beast wolf down the meal, then looked up as he heard someone calling for Elrond. “Lord Elrond is not at home,” said Rúmil. “Tell me what the problem is.” An archer pulled back the tent flap and peered inside. “Lord Rúmil. One of the lady archers was injured during practice. The injury is not grave, but she could use some assistance.” “Could she,” said Rúmil. “Very well, I am not without experience in such matters. Take me to her, that I may be of assistance. Tell her I shall be but a m oment.” The archer bowed and departed. Rúmil sighed, and rose to his feet. He collected a few things and put them into a small leather satchel, then he went to tend to the archer. ***---*** The moon turned the beach to silver fire, causing the bejeweled white sand to glitter as the two walked along. Elrond had been a bit shocked to see Gil standing on the sand in only the long wrap the Plains Elves wore, his heavy golden hair falling past his broad, golden shoulders. He was intrigued also to see the hummingbird tattoo in the pit of his throat, and he asked him about it as they walked. “I was raised by the Thrayre-Iyre. My father was a shipwright, and was killed in an accident. My mother died of grief not long afterwards. Sia found me, and took me in. I have dwelled with him ever since.” He smiled. “It was not easy. I had a crying fit when they told me I would never bear children. I was bound for a time to the Clan Warrior, Fire Horse. But he was killed when we were crossing a frozen lake. The ice was too thin, and he went through.” “I am sorry for your loss.” “It took me a long time to recover from it. He was very dear to me, as I am sure Rúmil is to you. But I am alone now, and I think it is time I left the Clan. I am not unwelcome, but I am not one of them, either. Sia will still come visit, and he is the only one I will truly miss. You would like him, I think. His name is River laughing. He was crippled in the same incident that killed Fire, and my Aie, but he is cheerful and spirited. He lets none look after him; he is as strong as ever. I cared for him until he mended.” Elrond smiled. “That must have been hard for you, to lose both your husband and adopted father. Where are we going?” “It was harder I think for Sia. I had no time to grieve. But I am fortunate that I had no children with Fire, I do not think I could have cared for them alone. Here we are,” said Gil. “This is my home.” He led Elrond into a small cave, worn into the cliff wall centuries ago. Inside, the sand floor was covered with woven rugs featuring stylized horse motifs. The simple wall tapestries bore similar patterns, as did the blankets on the distinctly Elven bed. The furniture was also Elven, and combined to create a room reflecting both sides of Gil-galad’s present life. “You are not that far from my encampment,” said Elrond. “It seems odd I have not seen you before now.” “I do not spend much time here,” said Gil. “Though that may change now.” He closed the door, then lit a coloured glass lamp, and poured them each some wine. He passed a glass to Elrond, his fingers touching his hand as he took the glass. Elrond lowered his eyes, but did not move his hand. “Gil, I am bound, and I love Rúmil dearly.” Gil’s amber eyes glittered in the soft golden light of the lamp. “And if you did not?” “I would be with you now.” “You are with me.” “Gil you know what I mean.” “I know what you mean. And I know you love Rúmil. He is a loyal and most worthy love for you.” Gil drained his glass, then carefully took Elrond into his arms. “But why can we not have one night together?” “You know the answer to that,” said Elrond. “We can not even have an hour.” “How about two?” “Gil…” Gil kissed him, and, despite himself, Elrond relaxed against Gil, relishing the kiss, sliding his arms around the large body before him. The kiss ended, and Elrond rest his head against Gil’s shoulder. “You are not playing fair,” he said, as the broad hands stroked over his back. “I have no intention of playing fair.” He kissed Elrond again, artfully slipping the long outer robe off his shoulders. Elrond gasped, and felt his entire body respond with wanton desire. It would be so easy, just to lay back and let him have him… Elrond gently pushed Gil away. “No you never did, you rogue. But I love my husband.” “Well what he doesn’t know….” The broad hands carefully drew him close once more, explored him. Gil lowered his head and kissed him deeply. Somehow Elrond found himself on his back on the bed, and his robes were pushed high over his thighs. He gasped as he felt something nudge his belly, and suddenly he reacted in a way that surprised even himself. “NO!” he screamed, and shoved Gil back, spilling him onto the floor. Elrond sat up and drew his clothing about himself, covering himself once more. “I cannot do this, I cannot go home and face my husband afterwards. I will NOT betray one who has stood beside me without complaint, who has asked only love of me.” Ereinion Gil-galad picked himself up off the floor, and for one unreasoning moment, Elrond thought he was going to strike him. Instead he sat on the bed beside him and gently held him. “I am sorry. I was thinking only of my own wants, and not yours. I have missed you so desperately, and now…. I am bullying you with my own selfishness.” “Were I not married you could ‘bully’ all you liked. But I love my husband.” “I do not think your husband loves me.” “Well if he knew what you just tried, your testicles would be warming some dog’s belly. He is not to be trifled with. He has not your distinguished past or bloodline, but he is a warrior, and proud.” “You will introduce him to me properly some time.” Gil gently kissed Elrond’s brow, then stroked his long black hair. “How are you, Rondy?” “I am well enough. It has been a trying time. My son’s husband has died recently.” “Was that the child I met on the beach with the pair of little black mischief makers? That was how I found you. I smelled your scent on him.” “That would be him. There are… other issues as well, but my concern is mostly for Elrohir. And Rúmil. But I don’t suppose he would like for me to discuss his personal matters with my ex-husband.” “Ex! You wound me. I died, I didn’t divorce you. We’re still married.” “Then you owe me an explanation for where you have been all this time.” “Bored out of my mind in the Halls of Mandos, then roaming the beaches with a pack of Plains Elves, wondering why I didn’t look like them. They are good folk, even if they do nip. I have learned much from them, secrets I am sure no Elf of this land ever learned. You see, I have seen the Faery Realm, Elrond. I have seen where they live, where they come and go to. The forests are so dark, and so ancient. Yet you do not feel grief, for you do not feel the past is gone utterly. It has gone, but it will be again, all the great tales and deeds of story and song. I have stood in the crystal waters and eaten the salmon and crayfish, run with the wild horses, and spoken with the great ravens that dwell on the sea cliffs. The ocean there is silver grey and rough, and the skies are silver and blue. You smell the rain and the thunderstorm, and can sit for a thousand years just to attend to the song of dragonfly and cricket. Ilúvatar could close the doors between this land and theirs if he so desired, but does not, for he can hear his own melody more purely played, with less discord, and it pleases him. I will take you there someday, Elrond. It would lighten your heart to see it.” Elrond smiled. “I should love to see it, it must be beautiful indeed.” He looked down to his wine glass, then said softly, “But one thing troubles me…” “Not tonight,” said Gil. “Tonight is not for old woes and troubles. Tonight is for us.” They talked and drank, and the night was growing old as Elrond returned to his tent. He pushed the flap back and staggered in, then tried to undo the sash on his robe with little success. “Drunk, dear?” asked Rúmil dryly from the bed. “Not in the least,” said Elrond, wondering when the ground had become so unsteady. Rúmil grinned in the darkness. “I see. And how was your evening? Need I go avenge your honour?” Elrond sat down hard and proceeded to wrestle with a boot. “Rúmil if you must know, he did indeed try. Frankly I would have been surprised had he not. I said no. Repeatedly. And, if you want the harsh truth, it was no easy thing for me to refuse him, but I did.” He yanked the boot off and somehow ended up on the floor. He stared up at the ceiling of the pavilion. “We really must do something about that hole up there.” “Come to bed,” said Rúmil softly. “Such fidelity must be richly rewarded.” There was a flurry of fabric and footwear in all directions, then Elrond was there, his naked body before Rúmil’s, hot with desire and frustration and unspent need. Rúmil felt the knot in his stomach relax as the overflowing passion of his husband told him that he really had been faithful, albeit reluctantly. Rúmil thought about a few of his past loves and wondered if he would have held up as well should they come back into his life. Elrond kissed Rúmil passionately, his fingers tangled in his long hair. “I have missed having you so very much. I feared I would never touch you in this manner again.” “I am sorry. I had much to consider. I was afraid. I am still afraid.” “There is no need for fear, my beautiful beloved. No harm shall come to you, not even should I have to give my own life to save you.” They were both on their knees on the bed, facing each other, gold hair mixing with dark as they touched each other, kissing. Elrond’s strong hands slid down Rúmil’s long back, down onto his buttocks, caressing them, his fingers carefully parting them and finding the warmth between them. Rúmil pulled Elrond against him, then allowed himself to fall back to the bed, gasping as he felt his husband suddenly inside of him. He flinched and winced, then cried out. “Rúmil? Are you all right? Am I too rough?” “No, I’m… just… I’m fine.” Elrond pushed into him, and Rúmil flinched again, but did not cry out, trying to disguise the pain as passion. He had never been taken in this manner before, and Elrond was filled with enough wine and passion that he did not seem to notice which harbour his ship had sailed into. That was fine, Rúmil did not wish for him to. This was something he needed to do, without Elrond being aware. ***---*** Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and Gaelemir were gone three days. Erestor, Thranduil and Ithilian were beside themselves, and Elrond sent forth Orophin and Elladan to see if any news could be found of the trio of truants. The two were gone for the better part of the day, and returned about sunset. They made their way to Erestor’s tent, where a rather large group had gathered, all deeply worried about their missing friends. Elrond rose to his feet as the pair entered. “What have you learned?” Orophin stood in a m ilitary manner and cleared his throat, trying to be officious, but was unable to hide a grin, He glanced at Elladan, who had his head lowered and was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand, but was unable to stop his shoulders from shaking. “I take it the news is not grave?” asked Ithilian dryly. “Well where are they?” demanded Erestor, in no mood for humour. “In jail,” said Orophin . Ilinuil gasped. “What? Whatever for?” Elladan’s shoulders began shaking harder, and Orophin cleared his throat. “Drunk and disorderly conduct.” “WHAT?!” said Erestor. “What happened?” “Well we’re not really sure,” said Orophin . “Glorfindel was still passed out face down in the middle of the cell floor when we saw them, Gaelemir was in the infirmary, and Ecthelion was only partly coherent. It seems the first tavern they went to was having something of a scavenger hunt, and one of they things they had to get was proof of having had a drink in every pub they could find. Apparently they collected twenty-one receipts.” “Twenty-one?!” exclaimed Elrond. “Each,” said Orophin . “Oh good grief,” said Ithilian, sinking down onto a chair. “Well as you can imagine, they were…a little drunk after that. It seems to have taken up the better part of the night. After that, apparently they took a small detour to the Houses of Parliament, where they were found in the high court singing ‘Anárion’s Restaurant’ in the nude.” Elrond said nothing, but sighed heavily, lowering his head and pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “And that was when they were arrested?” “No, Lord,” said Orophin . “They escaped the House Guards, and fled to the Gardens of Yavanna on the outskirts of the city, where they were briefly seen screaming ‘hedgehog’, and carrying a live duck and a sheep. Somehow they made their way from there to the City Barracks, where they located a few of their old friends, declared themselves an independent nation and began demanding a virgin to sacrifice. Since no one was willing to be the virgin, they launched an assault on the chambers of the knight Mirelendil the Pure and stole a pair of his undergarments, then made their way to the parade ground to run them up the flag pole. After that they striped naked again and sang the Buckland national anthem before finally being apprehended. Currently they are awaiting sentencing for their antics, each of them clad only in a jail house blanket.” “Wait!” said Thranduil, “How did Gaelemir come to be injured?” “I am not entirely certain, but I believe it happened when they walked into a pub full of Dwarven warriors, and he announced that he smelled shrimp.” “Ai, by the Valar,” sighed Ithilian. “How is Ecthelion? Is he unscathed?” “He appeared to be,” said Orophin . “It was a little hard to tell at the time, he was vomiting out his cell window onto the guards below. We are free to collect them, as long as we…” he cleared his throat, “pay for the damages.” “WHAT damages?” asked Elrond, still pinching his nose. “Well Lady Yavandil is demanding the return or replacement of her pet albino hedgehog, and the door to Mirelendil’s quarters have to be mended. The pub where they started the brawl is demanding compensation, and… apparently they decided to re-enact the Battle of Túna at some point with three fishing dories and a can of lamp oil. The fishermen would like new dories and their dock repaired.” Erestor was absolutely astounded by what he was hearing. “And you say MY Fin was in on this? MY Fin?” Orophin nodded. “Yes, Master Erestor.” “I cannot believe it! I mean I knew he had a m ad streak but this is beyond anything I ever experienced!” “Oh come,” said Thranduil. “You dwelled in Gondolin, who do you think was responsible for that incident when someone stole the statue of Gil-galad, and put it in the middle of the red light district wearing a pink nightie and a sign reading ‘Will thee kiss me in the dark, baby’?” “Oh I heard about that. I thought it was Ecthelion and Gaelemir…” Erestor’s words slowed as he realized what he was saying. “And Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower,” finished Thranduil. “Oh my,” said Erestor, looking distressed. “I married a nut job.” “Just now, he realizes,” said Ithilian. “Well I married one as well. The question is; what do we do with them?” The two looked towards Thranduil, who stood, lean and tall, near the back of the tent. A crafty look crossed his face. Then he grinned. “I fail to see why we should have to pay anything. It seems to me the proper thing to do would be to have the drunken miscreants who caused the destruction pay, as well as perform the repairs. Preferably while nursing hangovers the size of an Oliphant.” Thranduil smiled icily and straighten his robe, then muttered; “Leave ME to wait and worry for three days, will you?” Orophin bowed. “Shall I deliver the message, your majesty?” Thranduil looked towards Erestor and Ithilian. “Yes,” they said in unison. ***---*** Days passed, turning to weeks, turning to months. The spring became the summer, and was now turning to fall, a beautiful and blessed season in Valinor. The new house, nicknamed The Latest Homely House, was well under way, though it would be some time before it could be called complete. There were some rooms finished, including Orophin and Elladan’s, Elrond and Rúmil’s, and Elrohir’s, which he shared with his leggy, spirited, and mute offspring. Rabbit still grieved for Frost, though he was no longer so desperately distraught that his family feared for his health. Elrohir remained friends with Fëanor, and it was not uncommon to see the pair strolling together, all the while accompanied by Elrohir’s children. They were growing fast, still black as a starless sky, still with huge golden disks for eyes. They were almost phantom-like in their grace and silence. But, as Rabbit and Fadai had both said, these were not ordinary Plains Elves. These were a gift from the Faery Queen, whose reason for being had not yet been revealed. Gil-galad continued to be a pain in Rúmil’s neck, though he was hardly aware of it, nor was it his intention. However his mere presence was enough to have the young warrior frothing at the jaws, and if Gil was blissfully unaware, Elrond was not. The two were currently strolling in the warm autumn afternoon, discussing the issue. “Rúmil you are going to have to stop salivating acid every time you see him pass.” “Well why must he live so close?” Elrond smiled. “My love, need I remind you that he lived there before you and I ever met?” “Valinor is a large island, he can move.” Elrond smiled, and took his seething lover into his arms. He whispered into his ear. “You are cute when you are outraged.” Gil-galad stepped into view, some distance away and unaware of the pair. Rúmil actually growled. “Rúmil…” “He wants you, I know it. He will not rest until you are his again.” “Then he will wait a very, very long time.” Elrond gently kissed him, tasting tea. He was not fond of the herbal drinks Rúmil took to control his fertility cycles, but at least they could make love now. Elrond still shuddered when he thought about the morning after their drunken coupling, awaking to blood-soaked sheets. He recalled the ensuing interaction. “Rúmil! What happened, are you all right?” “I am fine,” he said, yanking the covers back over the stains. “But what…?” Rúmil blushed to the points of his ears. “I let you have me last night.” “What did I use, a knife?” “Your penis. I think it was just because I… I mean we never…did it… that way before…” It did not take Elrond long to process what had happened. He gazed at Rúmil, concern in his dark eyes. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine, really…” “What made you decide to do it?” “Well I spoke with Rabbit, and he gave me herbs to prevent my becoming pregnant. So, I do not have to be afraid now.” Elrond smiled, touching his face and kissing him. “You’re staying in bed today. I’ll look after you.” “Oh really now, isn’t a day in bed a bit extreme? I lost my virginity, I didn’t have an aneurysm.” Elrond gave him both Eyebrows and the Finger of Doom. “In bed.” Rúmil dutifully snuggled beneath the covers. There were worse things in life than a fretful husband. In the distance, Gil-Galad removed his shirt. He was big boned, broad shouldered and golden, his heavy hair falling down his muscled back. Rúmil stared daggers of ice at him and growled. “All right, enough,” said Elrond. “This Elf is my friend, and your feelings towards him are downright irrational. Come along, my pretty love. We are going to go make nicey-nice.” “You MUST be joking,” said Rúmil. “I’d rather spit in his eye.” “He has done nothing to warrant your loathing.” “He wants my husband.” “And the husband has said that shall not happen! I do not know what angers me more, Rúmil, your anger towards one of my dearest friends or the fact that you refuse to believe me. GIL!” Gil-galad turned and watched with curiosity as Elrond marched his young husband up the hill towards him. “Yes?” Elrond was quite plainly angry. “Gil I would like you and Rúmil to have a chat. I fear he does not care much for you and I should like it to stop.” Gil looked at Rúmil, seeing the angry gleam in his eyes. “I shall do my best.” “Good. My tent is over there. The two of you are to go there and talk this over like adults, until Rúmil understands that he has nothing to fear.” “Of course,” said Gil. He offered Rúmil his arm, but the young Elf gave him a look that would have crippled a troll. He gathered his robes about himself, and stalked off towards the tent that had, until recently, been his home. Gil and Elrond watched him go. “I am sorry,” said Gil. “My intent in seeking you out was not to cause strife in your household.” “Of course it was,” said Elrond fondly. “Though you still have not told me why you did come. Surely you did not return from the Halls of Mandos just to help me build a house.” Gil grinned at him, cocking an eyebrow. “You never know, do you?” He made his way down the hill, heading towards the pavilion and entering it. He closed the flap, then paused as he heard the sound of weeping. Concern crossed his handsome features, and he walked across the sitting area to a canvas wall, stepping through the narrow door into the sleeping area. There he found Rúmil curled on the bed, crying. Gil walked over to him, seating himself on the bed and gently picked Rúmil up, cradling him against his chest. “Now why the tears, child? What fears eat at your heart, Rúmil?” Rúmil by now was so upset he was very nearly inarticulate. “You’re going to take my husband, and there is nothing I can do about it. I know he still loves you, and do not tell me you do not desire him, I know you do.” Gil gently brushed the tears from Rúmil’s face, his hand nearly larger than his head. “Yes, I love him. Yes, I desire him. But Rúmil one thing seems to have escaped you. You see, Elrond is very precious to me, and you are very precious to him. That means that you are also very, very special to me. I could no more hurt you than I could him.” Rúmil’s breath hitched, but his weeping seemed to slow. “I… do not understand…” Gil looked deep into Rúmil’s green eyes, and stroked his long hair. “Rúmil I want you and I to be friends, because a great deal depends on you and I getting along. Do you know why I am back from the Halls of Waiting? I assure you, it is not to build Elrond a h ouse.” “Then why are you here? We have all been wondering that, and I know you know.” Ereinion Gil-galad rose to his full height. He had always been rumored to be of great stature, but to Rúmil he seemed a veritable giant. He poured them each a glass of miruvor, then sat once more on the bed, which creaked ominously. “Rúmil I am going to ask that you keep what I am to say a secret, because there is naught we can do about it anyway, and Elrond will just fret.” He looked into Rúmil’s eyes. “Promise?” Rúmil nodded, still visibly upset, but calmer. Gil reached for a blue silk sash to dry his eyes as he resumed speaking. “The Valar see much, but not all. When they called the Elves home, they meant for it to be forever. Then, of course, out popped the proverbial Rabbit out of a h at, and all that changed, because he bonded to a Glaur-Iy, a Golden Elf, which meant we had to retain some attachment to Arda. It is just as well, for had he not, Manwë would not have seen what he did. You see, in time, all Elves will return to Arda, and there will be a great kingdom, greater than any Elven realm ever seen, a place of beauty and song, where the House of Elrond will reign, and the sons of that house will be tall and proud, great warriors and poets and weaponsmiths, who will save Arda from a new doom. For so works the world, Rúmil. There can be no good without evil. For a thousand years there will be peace and beauty, and then there will begin rumours of a shadow, and a nameless fear. For as Sauron survived the fall of his Master, so did one survive the fall of Sauron.” Rúmil sniffed. “You mean The Buyer, do you not? But Rabbit slew him!” “Rabbit did indeed! But so did Isildur take up his father’s sword and slay Sauron. But what happened there?” Rúmil thought. “The Ring. He had his spirit tied to the Ring, and it survived.” Gil nodded. “Did Elrond ever told you the riddle I gave him, when my spirit inhabited the body of the boy Meril?” “Yes, you said ‘As Sauron did, so too did the Buyer...’” Rúmil’s green eyes grew huge. “The Book! That evil book that the demon came out of, that took me over and made me kill Ithilian! The Buyer bound his spirit to that book! We must return and destroy it!” “We cannot, child,” said Gil softly. “For it is already gone, stolen away by goblins from its hiding place, and hidden deep.” Rúmil shook his head, looking distraught. “This is most foul news.” Then he fixed Gil with an angry glare. “But it does not explain why I must like you.” Gil chuckled. “No, it does not. I have no great reason for you to like me, Rúmil. Other than wanting you to understand that I wish you no harm at all. I wish to help you build your kingdom, to see your children born. I wish to be by your side when the time comes to throw down the Buyer.” He stroked the back of one hand gently over Rúmil’s cheek. “Do you not see, Rúmil? I do not wish to destroy your family. I wish to join it.” Rúmil flinched, then pulled away, thrusting his hands nervously between his knees. “I do not think that is wise. There is much potential for hurt.” “There is also much potential for love and safety. Do not think I make this suggestion lightly, Rúmil. There is much of the future that I know, that I cannot speak of. There will come a time when we three will have need of each other.” “If you wish for me to agree to this, then you must answer my questions. Do we have a child?” “There are children in your future, but who fathers them is not known to me.” “So it could be either of you. How do I know you are not merely causing strife and uncertainty in my mind, so better to gain a h old on my husband?” Gil laughed. “Such a suspicious little thing you are! But it is a just question. So to you I make this vow. If ever you find that anything I have ever said you on this eve is a lie, I shall end my own life, and from the Halls of Mandos trouble you no more. I swear this by my own blood, Rúmil.” And as Rúmil watched, Gil took a dagger from his belt and slashed his own palm. Rúmil cried out and took the blue sash, wrapping it about Gil’s hand, but the gesture moved him, and he nodded. “I believe you, Gil. I do not believe one such as you would break such an oath. And I am sorry for my suspicions. But long have I felt that I loved one far above me, and so been all the more fearful of losing him.” Gil-galad stroked Rúmil’s hair. “You are not beneath Elrond, nor are you beneath me,” he whispered, then inclined his head forward, and touched his lips to Rúmil’s. Rúmil froze, uncertain what he felt, but he did not push Gil away. Cautiously, almost shyly, he put his arms around his powerful neck and kissed him back. After a m oment, the kiss ended. “Hmm… herbs,” said Gil-galad, and smiled. “Onions,” said Rúmil dryly. “Perfect,” said Gil, “let’s make soup.” Rúmil squeaked in surprise as Gil gently pushed him back to the bed. “Have you always been like this?” “I’m King, I can be as naughty as I like.” “FORMER king!” “Shhh… don’t frighten my delusions.” He gently kissed Rúmil, and held him against his huge chest, trailing one finger over his lips. “See? I knew we could be friends if we tried.” Rúmil rolled his eyes, then smiled. “So I survive bearing children.” Gil-galad smiled. His golden eyes were warm, and sincere. There was no cruel intent in them that Rúmil could see. “Do you wish for me to tell you how many?” “No. I do not wish to know such things. It is enough for me that I live. I wish to know no more. I do not wish to be burdened by the future, and by knowing which ones may die, and which ones will not come forth easily, or indeed when I first shall bear.” He looked into Gil-galad’s eyes, and realized that he felt safe with him. “Are you sure you do not know if you father any?” Gil-galad laughed. “I do not, and if I did I would tell you, for so I vowed. You have me in a terrible spot, young Rúmil. You made me vow to tell you the truth all this eve.” “Good!” Rúmil rolled on top of Gil-galad and sat on his midriff, pinning him to the bed by his massive shoulders. Gil permitted him to do so, though in truth he could toss Rúmil about like a doll if he wished. “You have been a shadow on my heart since I first fell for Elrond, and I assure I that I shall take great delight in tormenting you for a change. Now. Do you think I am fair?” “Yes I do. Most fair.” “And you vow to do nothing intentionally to break my heart?” “Rúmil, should I ever do anything to cause you grief, there will be no end to the trials I shall endure to make you smile again. Even if I must baby-sit Meril.” “Ah, you have met the Demon-Elfling.” “Well I wished to see the boy who loaned me his body. Normally I do not believe in spanking a child, but he is a fair candidate for it.” “And what do you see in his future?” “He shall become a fair warrior, and wed a fat mortal woman, and have fat babies. Then, at the age of two thousand three hundred and four, while showing off for his great grand-daughter at her wedding, he’ll dance his silly drunken ass off a parapet and break his neck.” “That’s terrible! Yet oddly fitting.” “He’ll return as his own great-great grandson.” Rúmil laughed. “You are telling stories!” “No, I am not! I vowed to be truthful, at least for tonight. I am at your mercy.” Rúmil’s eyes gleamed. “And I have no mercy, for you must do one last thing.” “And what is that, my pretty child?” “You must bind with me, ere I let you anywhere near the one whom I hold more dear than life. Bind with me, as Elves did in your time, so that I might hold your oath fulfilled, and know you shall not merely use me as a tool to take Elrond from me.” Gil-galad narrowed his eyes. “Now indeed do I understand why Elrond loves you so utterly. Ever did he favour a keen mind.” “A keen mind has nothing to do with it,” said Rúmil. “I survived the War of the Ring by knowing the hand I had been dealt. Now I am merely stacking the deck in my favour.” Gil-galad gently rolled over, placing himself on top of Rúmil. “Then let me take you,” he said softly. “And I will bind with you, as I bound with Elrond on that ill-fated night.” ***---*** Elrond was in sitting bed in his new room inside the half-built house, and he was getting nervous. It had been hours since he had sent Rúmil off to have a conversation with Gil, and he was getting worried. He was just about to get up and go looking for the body parts when the door flew open, and in came a pack and a few other belongings, including a rug, small writing desk, and a chest. Then Gil-galad stepped in. “Rondy! My love!” He fell on top of him and kissed him. Elrond made several odd noises as he tried to shove the huge Elf off of himself. “What is the meaning of this!? Where’s my Rúmil?” Rúmil entered the room just then, carrying a small leather satchel. He righted the desk, and put the satchel on it, then closed and locked the door. “Gil and I made friends,” he said, then opened the satchel and pulled out several bottles of wine, a small brass pipe fashioned into the likeness of an eagle, and a leather pouch of dried green weed. “So we came over here to celebrate with you.” Elrond yelped as Gil pulled off his nightshirt, then began kissing and caressing his body. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you? You corrupted my Rúmil!” “Mmmm…twice. Now I’ve come to do it to you.” Rúmil lit a small lamp with a coloured glass shade, then filled the pipe. Finally, he removed his clothes, lit the pipe, and slid into bed with Gil and Elrond. He leaned forward to gently kiss his husband, then passed him the pipe. Elrond sat up, hair askew. “Look I demand an explanation for this! Not more than a few hours ago you hated him so badly I had to practically chain you down! Now I find you have LAIN with him?!” Rúmil flinched, wondering if he had made a grave error. “I just wanted to please you,” he said softly. “PLEASE me?! How in the name of all Arda did you think this would PLEASE me?!” “Do not be angry with Rúmil,” said Gil softly. “He loves you to an extent you will never understand. We both do.” “I do not understand this!” said Elrond. He looked towards Rúmil, pain in his eyes. “I do not understand,” he repeated softly. Rúmil moved closer, putting his arms around Elrond and holding him tightly. “We will try to explain,” he said softly. ***---*** They talked long into the night, and well into the next day. They had food sent in, and continued the discussion, but by then Elrond had decided there were worse arrangements in the world. Presently he was lying on his back, Rúmil curled against him on his left, Gil-galad lying beside him on his right. “I will have you know I am still not certain about this,” he said. Rúmil snuggled closer. “Well, then, we must agree that if this does not work, we shall end it, and like gentlemen. “ “Agreed,” said Gil-galad.” “And that this little unorthodox arrangement does NOT become general knowledge!” said Elrond. “Agreed,” said Rúmil. Gil took a drink of miruvor. “Rubbish, all Valinor crawls with unorthodox loves. Look at Legolas and Gimli, Berhin and Lossenaur. Maedhros and Fingon.” Elrond looked up. “Maedhros and Fingon? But they are cousins!” “Doesn’t stop them from impersonating rabbits every chance they get.” Elrond laughed. “Big Red and Fingie? I never would have thought!” “But that is against the law, is it not?” said Rúmil. “Damn straight it is,” said Gil. “That’s why we all pretend not to know. So here’s to pretending we don’t know Red is shagging his cousin.” The trio raised their glasses. “Agreed.” “I have a little stipulation I would like tossed into the marriage contract,” said Elrond. “I should like to be the sire of the first child born to our fair Rúmil.” “Agreed,” said Rúmil, knowing full well why Elrond should request such a thing. Gil shrugged. “Agreed.” They drained their glasses again. By now all three were exhausted, not to mention well under the influence of wine and weed. Rúmil sat up to refill the pipe, and Elrond watched his fair young body in the golden light of the lamp. “My dear Rúmil,” he said softly. “You are a delight and a comfort to me.”
“I am a childish nuisance,” said Rúmil, “who feared he may have made a very large mistake. In fact I am not that certain I did not. But we will see how things go.” “I think things will go well,” said Elrond. He reached up and touched Rúmil’s face. “I am happy if you are.” Rúmil looked towards Gil-galad, and narrowed his eyes. “I vote his former royal kingship has to go find dinner.” “Agreed,” said Elrond, raising his glass. “Such a diplomatic crew we are!” said Gil-galad. “Very well, what shall we have?” “Fish,’ said Rúmil. “Mutton,” said Elrond. “Right,” said Gil-galad, “a seafaring sheep it is.” He got out of bed and dressed, then kissed each of them before departing. Once he was gone, Elrond gently took Rúmil into his arms. “You did not have to do this,” he said softly. “I would never have abandoned you for him.” Rúmil nodded. “I know,” he said softly. “And I still am not sure why I agreed to it, other than my heart tells me it is right. I know it is awkward right now, but in time we shall become as family, rather than merely three to a bed.” He lit the pipe and drew the smoke into his lungs, holding it in as he passed the pipe to Elrond. Finally he slowly exhaled, and said “You have the gift of foresight. What things are revealed to you about this matter?” Elrond drew thoughtfully at the pipe. Exhaling smoke, he said: “That it is not merely right, but necessary. We will have much need of each other in the future, and I see Gil returned to the throne of a great kingdom of Elves , and you and I stand beside him. But much is veiled, and I sense you know more of this than I do. Still, I see no evil as a result of this arrangement. Indeed I think things would go ill were we not together.” “Gil said we would have need of each other,” said Rúmil. Elrond nodded. “I believe Gil is right.” Out in the hall they heard Lindir’s voice. “Mr. Gil-galad you shouldn’t be carrying trays because you used to be King.” “Used to be, Lindir. And even when I was, I carried trays.” “I have to carry trays too because I sorta accidentally nearly killed Ilinuil.” “Ilinuil! Ah he is a fair creature indeed. Why would you do such a thing?” “He’s not that pretty,” grumbled Lindir. “Ah. Methinks me understands. Lindir, let me tell you something important that I learned a very long time ago.” “Yes?’ “Never fuck with things that can blow you across a valley and into a m ountainside. Be a good boy and get the door, would you?” There was a long pause, then; “MR. GIL YOU SAID A NAUGHTY WORD!” “I’m king, I can get away with it.” The door opened, and Gil stepped into the room with the tray. He nudged the door closed with his foot, and came over to the bed. He paused beside it, and smiled lovingly at the two Elves seated together, arms around one another in a fey pose. “And what ever did I do to deserve such beauty?” Rúmil fluttered his eyelashes. Elrond crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “No mustard?” “Ah. Going for mustard, dear.” “Coarse ground, not that garbage they serve in the kitchen.” “Yes dear.” “And tartar sauce?” said Rúmil. “Yes dear.” Rúmil looked at Elrond as Gil left the room in search of condiments. “I like this already.” ***---*** The seasons changed. Fall turned to a gentle, snowy winter, then to a spring of green and flowers. Elrond’s little clan did indeed become a family, and as he watched Rúmil and Gil-galad stroll through the gardens, he could not imagine things as they had been. Though they did keep their vow not to let their relationship become widely known, Erestor was in on the secret, as he was with all the secrets of Imladris. Glorfindel knew as well, but aside from them, none knew, not even Rúmil’s brothers. Spring gave way to early summer, and Gil-galad had Mauburz and Erestor organize a party for Elrond’s birthday. Mauburz had not been told anything about the fact that Elrond’s marriage now included a third, but she was much smarter than many gave her credit for. She was stirring cake batter when she pointed the wooden spoon, dripping with white goo, at Erestor, who was arranging the guest list. “Me not know what up with them, but me think it in Gil-galad’s pants.” Erestor nearly spewed his tea across the room. “My dear Mauburz whatever are you talking about?” “Me not sure. Something funny with those three. Something funny with Rúmil too. Me think he got belly full of Elflings.” Erestor shook his head. “No, I think you are mistaken. You know how afraid he is of getting with child. He’s taking herbs and who knows what other precautions. If he is pregnant then I can’t think how, he’s not even had a fertility cycle.” Rúmil came into the kitchen just then, wearing his forest gear and carrying a dressed buck over his shoulders. He was a little heavier than he had been, true, but Elrond and Gil-galad had been spoiling him rotten. Besides, if Rúmil were with child, Elrond would know it. Erestor checked over the party list, and settled backing his chair, telling himself that Rúmil was not pregnant. Rúmil was fat. “Where shall I put this?” he asked, “Hang by pantry door, me get to it in a m oment.” Rúmil did, then departed. Mauburz and Erestor made eye contact. “Pregnant,” she said. “Fat,” said Erestor. “Fat and pregnant.” “I’ll bet you a pot of Fin’s famous spiced fish he’s fat.” “Woohoo! Me looking forward to collecting that bet! If you right me make you my lemon cake.” “Now that is a bet I shall be willing to take. But really dear Mauburz, if he were pregnant, would Elrond let him out hunting?” She shrugged. “Maybe nice Lord Elrond not know yet. Nice Rúmil might just be little ways along.” “Well he can only be a couple weeks along, there’s certainly nothing there to show, other than a large backside.” Mauburz chuckled and kept stirring, then sighed. She looked around the kitchen and sniffed. “Party no fun without Hobbits.” “Oh, poor Mauburz.” Erestor stood up and went to hug her. “But we have Dwarfs, they’re a little like Hobbits.” “Too hairy.” She glanced at Erestor. “Pregnant.” “Fat.” “Who’s fat and pregnant?” asked Bilbo Baggins as he came in through the door. Mauburz dropped her spoon. “BILBO! ME MISS YOU!!” Bilbo was scooped up into a pair of muscular arms and kissed repeatedly. The old Hobbit dangled, uncertain who had him. “My dear lady I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance.” “Me Mauburz! Me pretty now!” “MAUBURZ! My word you most certainly are! How are you my dear friend? Baking? Oh let me help!” Outside the kitchen there was the sound of running feet, and a collision, then the sound of a body hitting the ground. Someone laughed. Erestor went out to see what was happening, and saw Legolas sitting on a Mortal he did not know. Beside them stood Frodo, laughing. Moments later Gimli arrived and picked the slender Elf up. “Now see here, don’t be tackling my Elf!” “YOUR Elf? Since when? Last I saw you two, you were barely on speaking terms.” Legolas hugged the Man. “It is good to see you my friend. And it is good to see you well.” Then he turned and pounced on Frodo. Erestor continued to watch, still uncertain to whom Legolas and Gimli were speaking. He was clad, as were the two Hobbits, in traveling gear, and was carrying what appeared to be the lion’s share of the gear. Just then a familiar figure stepped into view. It was Faramir, and he moved slowly, as one who believes he is dreaming. He stared at the dusty Man, his eyes wide. Finally he managed to speak. “Boromir?” “Faramir! Little brother, how are you!” “Boromir!” He ran to his brother and embraced him. “I thought you were dead!” “I am. That’s how I ended up here. This is what happens to you when you try to steal a ring of power off a Hobbit. You end up traveling all over Valinor with two of them, making maps. But we heard there was to be a party in Lord Elrond’s honour and we could not miss it. I did not know you were here, or I would have come sooner!” Faramir embraced his brother hard and cried on him. Boromir held him tightly, smiling. ***---*** Rúmil dropped off the deer, then went to have a leisurely soak in the bath. He washed his long hair, and cleaned his body of the dirt and debris of the hunt. He lounged in the hot water until the remains of the day faded to the soft beginnings of dusk, then got out and dried himself. He spent another hour fixing his hair and makeup. Rúmil, husband of Elrond and Gil-galad, did not make a h abit of showing up at parties for his husband looking like five miles of bad road. Once he had painted, primped and done his hair, he put his circlet in place, then threw a bathing rode on and headed for Orophin ’s room. He pushed open the door, which had a tendency to stick on its hinges. “Are you in, brother dear?” “No,” said Orophin . “I am a h allucination. Please leave a m essage and piss off.” Rúmil seated himself in a chair, then glanced out the window. “It’s going to be a smashing party. I can’t wait! It has been so long since we’ve had one. I’m going to eat, and I’m going to get roaring drunk, and I’m going to dance until I throw up.” “Charming! I am so glad that being bound to Lord Elrond has improved your manners. Shall I help you get into the ridiculously lavish robe he had made for you?” “Oh yes, I was not going to ask but I could appreciate the help.” Rúmil stood up, and he and Orophin went in the direction of his quarters. The House was more or less completed. Certainly it was now inhabited, though there was still some finishing to do. A few walls lacked panels, floors required finishing, railings were not quite done: however it was a definite improvement on living in tents and pavilions. The two entered Rúmil’s private chamber, and Orophin began looking over the items on the vanity. He picked up a silver compact. “Still play the catamite at times, do you?” “When it suits me, yes.” Rúmil opened the wardrobe and pulled out a spectacular garment of crimson and indigo velvet, lined with cream coloured silk. He laid it on the bed and positively gloated over it. “Isn’t it just beautiful? The seamstress Naergilian said she nearly went mad on it.” “I can see why! This is beautiful. Are you sure it’s really for you?” Rúmil stuck his tongue out at his brother. “Yes it’s for me.” He dropped the bathing robe, then went to the dresser get his under things. Orophin raised an eyebrow as his brother crossed the room. “Your backside is huge.” Rúmil spun and glared at Orophin . “It is not!” “Is. In fact you’re getting to be what Rosie would call ‘chunky’.” “I am NOT chunky and my backside is not huge! Is it?” Rúmil began trying to look at his butt in the mirror. “Well it is to be expected, all the running around you used to do as a warrior has now been replaced by lounging, snoring, eating, and rolling over to eat again. Pretty soon we shall have to start calling you Celeborn.” “No! Don’t you dare! I’m only a little fat, I can work it off. Starting tomorrow. I’ll go for a long ride, then come with you on patrol.” “Whatever you say, Haldir.” “OROPHIN!” “Sorry, what did you say? Your mouth was full.” Rúmil bounced his compact off his brother’s head, then went to get into his under things. He returned a few moments later clad in a simple white silk undergarment. As he crossed the floor, Orophin made crashing noises. “Stop that or I’ll tell Elladan it was you who blew your nose on his scroll.” “It needed to be done, it was that or blow a big greenie in front of Maedhros, and you know how those old Elves react to that sort of thing. He’d have flogged me.” Rúmil slid into the pale cream robe that went under the great velvet one, then passed Orophin the band that went over it. “Pull it tight, would you? I don’t want to show up looking like a cow.” Orophin took the band, and smiled. “Rúmil, I was teasing. You are a little bigger than you were, but so what, it’s scarcely noticeable. “Well you noticed!” “Yes, because you were naked.” “Just cinch it up good, would you?” “If you like.” Rúmil raised his arms, and let Orophin wrap the band around him. Then he began lacing it up. At first all was fine, but then as the band began to constrict, a sharp pain went through him, and he doubled over. Orophin stopped what he was doing. “Rúmil?” “It’s nothing, probably just something I ate. Keep cinching.” Orophin shrugged. He waited for Rúmil to straighten up, then adjusted the band and gave it a good yank. Once more the pain shot through Rúmil, and he cried out. “Rúmil this is more than you having eaten something that was a little off. I am going for Elladan.” “No! Stay here with me, I…” Rúmil was cut off in mid sentence by another pain, this one worse than the first two. He gasped as he suddenly felt a great wash of fluid from between his thighs. He and Orophin stared at each other, wide-eyed. “FUCKING HELL YOU’RE HAVING A BABY!” cried Orophin . “Well don’t just stand there, get me a bucket!” “WHY?” yelled Orophin , plainly hysterical. “ARE YOU GOING TO HAVE IT IN A BUCKET?” “Oh never mind the bucket, save the robe, it cost a bloody fortune.” Orophin scooped the robe off of the bed just as Rúmil sank down onto it. “Oro go get…” “Elladan,” finished Orophin . “I’ll get Elladan.” “No not Elladan he’s bloody useless, get Rabbit!” Orophin stuck his head out a nearby window. “RABBIT! RABBIT! RABBIT GET YOUR BLOODY ASS OVER HERE NOW!” Rúmil rolled his eyes. “Nice to know Orophin ’s so useful in a crisis,” he muttered. He cried out as a pain wracked him. Wherever Rabbit had been, it could not have been far, and the sheer terror in Orophin ’s voice brought him in moments, with Elladan and Elrohir hot on his tail. Orophin was tossed into the hallway and the door bolted after him. Rabbit hopped onto the bed, taking Rúmil’s hand. “What is it, what is the matter?” “I’m having a baby.” “You can’t be having a baby, you’re not pregnant.” He lowered his head and listened to Rúmil’s belly, then raised his head. “You’re having a baby.” Rúmil grabbed a h andful of Rabbit’s black hair and pulled his face down close to his own. “Rabbit, your birth control methods SUCK!” “They do not, you plainly just did not take them properly. You were supposed to take them during your cycle.” “I NEVER HAD A CYCLE!” “I disagree, you did and you missed it.” “Well Ada seems to have found it,” muttered Elrohir. He took Rúmil’s free hand. “You’ll be all right, you’re not alone.” “I WISH I WAS! THIS IS NOT A POSITION I WISH TO BE SEEN IN BY OTHER PEOPLE!” “It’s here!” said Elladan. “It’s here, here he is. Look, you have a son.” Rúmil raised is head. “What? What do you mean he’s here? What happened to days and days of agony followed by me dying?” “It doesn’t work that way for everyone,” said Elrohir, as Elladan placed something wet and wiggling on his stomach. Rúmil just stared at the tiny being, unable to grasp what had just occurred. He looked towards Rabbit, confused, and felt the great Plains Elf nuzzle at him, purring reassuringly. There was a m oment of calm and quiet, then Rúmil felt another pain clutch him. “I think there’s another,” he said. The second did not come so swiftly, nor so easily. Elrohir took the first infant and cleaned him up, then performed the simple blessing. He put the child on a padded chair before coming back over to the bed. An hour later, the second baby came forth. Elrohir picked the child up and scrutinized it. The first baby had been small, with black hair, and features that were distinctly reminiscent of Elrond. This baby however was huge – big boned, chubby, with large fists and fuzzy blond hair and large golden eyes. Elrohir looked from the baby to Rúmil, but Rúmil’s eyes were grey-green. He looked back at the baby. “Why does this kid look like Ereinion Gil-galad?” |
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