No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man,
To be the sad man behind blue eyes.
No one know what it’s like to be hated,
To be fated to telling only lies.
But my dreams, they aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be.
I have hours, only lonely.
My love is vengeance that’s never free.
No one knows what it’s like to feel these feelings
Like I do ~ and I blame you.
No one bites back as hard on their anger.
None of my pain and woe can show through.
But my dreams, they aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be.
~ The Who, ‘Behind Blue Eyes’.
The evening had begun, and Elrond stood with Gil-galad, watching the little lamps floating upon the pond. It had been many years since Elrond had a birthday party, and now as he stood in the gold and purple light of sunset, listening to the music and laughter about him, he wondered why he had denied himself the pleasure. Certainly it was a welcome respite from all the grief he had endured.
“I cannot wait to see Rúmil in his fine robes,” he said, as he and Gil watched Mauburz tend the great fire pit, where the haunches of venison roasted. Bilbo had made himself her personal assistant, and now the two were arguing whether the meat was ready.
“Yes, where is our little Rúmil?” asked Gil.
“I am sure he will be here any moment. Look! There is Ilinuil!”
Gil and Elrond watched as Ilinuil arrived with Amaris. He was clad in silver and white, and walked in his own light, his silver hair falling loose. He had recovered from the disfiguring blow dealt to him by Glorfindel, and all that remained of the scar was a faint white line on one cheek.
“Such beauty,” said Gil-galad softly, watching Ilinuil move passed in perfect grace. A look of concern crossed his face. “Beauty of that nature is both a blessing and a curse.”
“Indeed,” said Elrond. “Our Lindir has taken a deep dislike to Ilinuil’s beauty, because the object of his own desire cannot resist looking.”
“I hope fair Ilinuil has a suitable guardian.”
“Fair Ilinuil is quite capable of looking after himself. Besides, he has Amaris to care for him.”
“I hear tell that Amaris is not as close to Ilinuil as he would like.”
“Gil you are such a gossip.”
“I am dreadful, am I not?” Gil glanced about to see if he was being watched, then chanced a quick kiss with Elrond. Then something attracted his attention, and he squinted at it. “Is that Orophin?”
Elrond looked, but before he could say anything, Orophin ran up. He was panting, and as he reached them, he doubled over, gasping. Finally he drew in a breath and uttered one word:
“Rúmil!”
Elrond felt fear clutch his heart. “Where?”
Orophin gasped again, then coughed. “His private chambers.”
“Go,” said Gil, “I will tend to things here.”
Elrond nodded, then ran towards the house, Orophin chasing after him.
***---***
“So that is Fëanor,” said Rhimlan to Haldir.
Haldir nodded, and sipped his wine. Both were watching the cloaked figure, standing aloof and alone, one black-gloved hand holding a glass of red wine. He surveyed the party with cold eyes, and Rhimlan shivered.
“It frightens me to have him here, why was he invited, anyway?”
“Because,” said Haldir, “young Lord Elrohir is fond of him. Besides, he has been decent enough.”
“Aye until he goes mad again,” said Rhimlan. “It’s the eyes that disturb me, the look in them. He could burn holes into a mountain with those eyes.”
The wind picked up, blowing through Fëanor’s long hair and making his black cape flutter. He shook his hair, then gazed with frozen authority at those surrounding him. The eyes rested on Rhimlan briefly, and he flinched, bringing his hand up to his throat nervously. Then Fëanor looked away, staring down someone else. Rhimlan nearly collapsed.
“I wish he would leave.”
“He will,” said Haldir, “he just came to see Elrohir. Besides, Mauburz will save you.”
Rhimlan smiled, and looked towards his beloved wife. She stood head and shoulders above those around her, broad shouldered and strong, the firelight making her black skin glow. Haldir rolled his eyes as he watched Rhimlan turn to goo.
“You’re hopeless,” he teased.
“And proud of it,” said Rhimlan. He glanced back at Fëanor, and started slightly as he noted that, once again, the deathly cold eyes were upon him.
“Haldir, he is staring at me.”
“No he’s not,” said a voice from behind them.
Rhimlan and Haldir both turned sharply, and found themselves standing before Maedhros. Both bowed respectfully, then Rhimlan asked tentatively “How can you be certain?”
Maedhros sipped his wine. “Because he’s blind as the proverbial bat, that’s why. That’s why he has that impressive, merciless gaze. He’s trying to figure out what he’s looking at.”
Rhimlan snapped his attention to Fëanor. “Blind?! No, no, you must be mistaken, I have seen him ride horses with Elrohir, and walk from one place to another. He can see!”
“He can see well enough to put one foot in front of the other, granted. And if you walked up and slapped him, he would certainly know who did it. But his long labour on the Silmarils strained his eyes badly, and his sight is not that of other Elves. From this distance you could drop your pants and show him your backside, he’d never know.”
“Thank you, I don’t think I will try,” said Rhimlan. He looked to Fëanor once more. “You’re certain he cannot see me?”
“No but he can bloody well hear you,” said Fëanor.
Rhimlan fled, darting over to Mauburz and hiding behind her. Haldir went cold, but Maedhros was undaunted.
“Having a lovely evening, Ada?”
“Apart from hearing myself being discussed like a rabid animal, I am.”
“Well if the description fits.”
Haldir gasped quietly. Fëanor sipped his wine, then said calmly; “Maedhros, do not force me to come over there and kill you. Besides, did I not just hear your…cousin… calling you?”
The muscles of Maedhros’ jaw worked, but he said nothing. Finally he bowed formally and departed. Fëanor grinned nastily.
“Well that shut him up. You are Haldir, are you not? Come closer, my sight is limited, and I do not care to shout.”
Haldir approached, and felt his guts turn to ice water as Fëanor gazed at him with those cold blue eyes. He reached him, and bowed. He almost died of anxiety as the kinslayer took his arm.
“Walk me to the musicians, I have a request. And do not worry so, I have not killed anyone for hours.”
Haldir swallowed. “Your humour is distasteful.”
“My life is distasteful, and if I must walk in the blood of my past then so be it. The Valar have seen fit to forgive me, and to them alone I pay my penance. The Elves around me care little enough for it. Only Elrohir has been good enough to let me show him that I am not what I was. If others refuse to see it, then let them fear.”
Haldir thought about that. “You remind me of Rabbit. He too refuses to beg forgiveness for what he is.”
“Ah, yes, your husband. That indeed must be a heavy weight to bear, to have spawned Orcs, however unwillingly. Some day perhaps I shall have the pleasure of meeting him.”
Haldir did not want Fëanor anywhere near his family, but did not wish to offend him by saying so. “That is not an easy thing to arrange.”
“Well if it happens, then well and good.” Fëanor paused. “I smell crab.”
“Left.”
“Ah.” Fëanor turned left, taking Haldir with him.
“My Lord,” said Haldir, “If I may be so bold, why have you not had lenses crafted to improve your vision?”
Fëanor spun sharply, coming nose to nose with Haldir and impaling him on his ice-blue eyes. He stared at him, and Haldir wondered if he dared scream. Finally, Fëanor spoke.
“One of the First Born with glasses? Bite your tongue, child.”
Haldir narrowed his own green eyes, and spoke very softly; “If you frighten me one more time, then I shall walk you over to a dozen of my kinsmen and shout loudly that you just called the Lady of Light a fat trollop.”
Fëanor grinned, and Haldir noticed he had very white teeth, two of which almost looked like fangs. “I like you.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Irrelevant. You may baby-sit me until I find Elrohir. Let us get some crab.”
“Such an honour, I have been given.”
“Yes makes you sick with joy, does it not?” Fëanor took a glass from a server’s tray and downed the contents. He set the glass down on a table, then looked at Haldir once more.
“You need not fear me, Haldir of Lothlórien, no matter what you have heard of me. My days of causing grief are well passed. Indeed were you to throw me from the highest cliff, it would do you no good; for I have no graces granted me. I cannot even die. I must repay the Valar for every drop of blood I spilled ere I have that right, and once I have earned it, I shall depart.”
Haldir had no fondness for Fëanor, but was still saddened to hear this. “Elrohir would miss you,” he said.
Fëanor took another drink from the tray. “Elrohir, like all Valinor, would be better off without me.”
“But he has grown fond of you, do you not love him back?”
“Love is a grace, Haldir. I cannot love any more than I can die. But my heart is lighter with his friendship. In as much as I can, yes, I do love the child, and his little home wreckers. Ai, none weep for Fëanor, but history weeps for his house!”
Haldir laughed, despite himself. “Perhaps once you have regained the grace of love, you will feel differently.”
“Perhaps goats will mate with my horses to create unicorns, but I doubt it.”
“All I am saying is consider it, for Elrohir’s sake.”
Fëanor smiled sadly. “Haldir you misunderstand me. All that I now do is for Elrohir’s sake. He alone befriended me, and he alone listens to me. I, who fathered seven sons, and crafted great gems and led armies, sit now in a hall of stone and hear no music but that I can recall from parties long ago, and hear no laughter but the mocking sound of my own loneliness echoed through the corridors. And there are none to blame for it but myself. Love and joy are faded shades to me, and the sound of his footstep upon my threshold is the only thing that tints the dried and crumpled leaves of those memories with colour. His friendship gives me the heart to dream of things that may be.” Fëanor looked at Haldir, and the blue eyes were not mad and cold as they had been but a short time ago. They were soft lakes of desperate hope. “My dreams,” he whispered, “are not as empty as my conscience seems to be.”
***---***
Elrond arrived outside the door to Rúmil’s chambers just in time to be met by Elladan. His son’s eyes were large and frightened.
“Ada, maybe you should not go in there…”
Elrond snapped his formidable gaze to his son, causing him to hop backwards. “What do you mean? He’s all right, isn’t he? Rúmil!”
“Ada!”
Elrond barged into the bedroom, and paused, confused by the mess he saw. The sheets were soaked and bloody, and there was a huge pool of fluid on the floor. Elrohir was dragging the sheets off the bed.
“What is going on? Where is Rúmil?”
Elrohir swallowed, and glanced to his twin for direction. Elladan shrugged, eyes large. Elrohir looked back at his father, and said, “He is in your chambers, Ada, with Rabbit.”
Elrond ran to the room he shared with Rúmil and Gil, flinging the door open and stepping in. Rabbit raised his head and made a heavy warning sound, somewhere between a snort and a growl. Ignoring him, Elrond walked over to the bed, carefully seating himself on the edge, looking down at the Elf snuggled beneath the covers. The blond hair was wild and damp, and the face pale. It took Elrond a moment to realize that it was Rúmil. Then the green eyes opened, and Rúmil made a small sound that may have been either a greeting or a noise of acknowledgment. Elrond smiled, despite his concern.
“Well hello. I feared you were dead from the way Elladan and Elrohir are acting.”
Rúmil squeaked, tired and pleasantly high from the pain medication Elrohir had given him. “They’s jus’ worried.”
“About what?” asked Elrond, grinning. He had no idea what was the matter with his young husband, but it did not seem to be dire.
Rúmil waved one hand limply in the direction of something across the room, then yawned. “About your reaction when you notice one’s brunette an’ one’s blon’.”
Elrond looked at Rabbit. “Why is my Rúmil doped to the gills and making no sense?”
Rabbit also looked nervous. He was mangy from his long grief, but he sat up, proud and strong. His yellow-green eyes were deep and wise, and held Elrond firmly. He was silent for a long moment, but finally, he spoke, for Rabbit did not believe in drawing matters out.
“You are a father. You have twins.”
“Well I thank you for stating the obvious.”
Rúmil reached up one hand and pushed Elrond’s face in the direction he had pointed moments ago. “Go look what I did.”
***---***
Elladan and Elrohir were waiting in the hallway, eyes huge with fear when Rabbit stepped out of the room. Orophin stood behind Elladan, his hands on his husband’s shoulders, still uncertain what had happened.
Rabbit quietly closed the door, then stood in silence, looking thoughtful. After a time, Elrohir said quietly: “Well?”
Rabbit looked towards the door as though thinking, then back to Elrohir. “He did not seem to care.”
The twins positively deflated with relief. “Care about what?” asked Orophin.
Elladan looked up at his husband. “Your brother has apparently been showing Gil-galad an uncommon amount of courtesy. He had twins, and one of them was definitely NOT fathered by my Ada.”
Orophin’s eyes grew large. “Are you certain?”
“I held it in my hands,” said Elrohir. “It was did not look like Rúmil and it most certainly did not look like Ada. It was Gil’s.”
“I cannot believe Rúmil would betray him in such away!” said Orophin. “Unless it was not a betrayal, but rather they permitted Gil to share their bed one night.”
“That, I find more likely, given Elrond’s reaction,” said Rabbit. “And certainly Rúmil showed no concern when Elrond entered the room.”
“Go Ada!” said Elrohir. Elladan slapped him across the back of the head.
“OW! Well at least we need not fear some tragedy! Let us leave them in peace, and go back to the party.”
Rabbit departed, shaking his head over the madness of the Glaur-Iyre. Orophin stared at the door nervously, concerned for his brother. Finally he stepped forward, taking the handle and carefully squeezing the latch to avoid making any sound. Elladan and Elrohir stood in silence, also wishing to be assured that all was well. Orophin opened the door a crack, and peered into the room.
Elrond was on the bed, lying beside Rúmil, his arms around his young husband. Rúmil himself was pressed close to Elrond, his head upon his breast, eyes closed. Orophin closed the door, and quietly sighed with relief.
“I do not know how Rúmil came to bear Gil’s child, and I do not care. That question is for Elrond alone, and he does not seem to care to ask it.”
“Or perhaps he already knows the answer,” said Elrohir softly.
“Either way,” said Orophin, “all is well.” He took Elladan’s hand, and together the three Elves left Elrond and Rúmil in peace.
***---***
“What’s this?” asked Hare, sniffing warily at the contents of a glass.
Fade smiled at him. “Mead. Honey wine.”
Hare sniffed again, then sipped from the glass. “It’s nice.” He glanced around, then tugged at the collar of his khiton. “I don’t see why I could not have just worn my breeches.”
“Because this is Lord Elrond’s party, so we must look nice. And I quite approve of you in that garb.”
Hare smiled wryly. “Too bad it doesn’t cover the tattoo on my midriff.”
“Forget the tattoo. Let us have fun.”
“I have rocks in my sandals.”
“You, my friend, are a crab. Look, there is Ta’Na Yar, and wearing a khiton as well. He looks magnificent.”
“Oh indeed he does. You distract his therlu so I can drag him off into the bushes for an hour.”
“Hare!”
“Oh fine, you go first.”
“Hare! After all the fish I have brought you, this is the thanks I get?”
Hare gave Fade a sidelong look. “All the fish you brought me indeed, after dark and in secret, you mean. Fade you are a dear friend, but I have no illusions about your feelings towards me, or my position in the clan. I walk with a limp, I’m forbidden children and I hunt with a bow. You’re not going to bind with me, so let me have my fantasies. OH! Ilinuil!” Hare watched Ilinuil walk past like a wolf staring after a wounded deer, growling very, very quietly.
“HARE! Honestly, one sip of mead and you are impossible. And if my Sia knew I was hunting for you, he’d have a fit.”
“My point exactly,” said Hare dryly. “I should have thought that an Elf of your age would have grown up by now.”
Fade stopped and looked at Hare. “And just what does that mean, may I ask?”
Hare turned to face his friend, and when he spoke, his voice was very quiet. “It means, Fade, that you have to make a choice. You can admit you love the Clan reject, or you can go back to pleasing Sia. But make up your mind, for I am weary of being alone and of being a dirty secret.”
Fade blinked in surprise, and backed up a step. “I am sorry, I did not know you felt this way. I… have not been very fair to you, have I?”
“No,” said Hare softly. “But you have been kinder than most, so I bore it.”
Fade nodded, looking thoughtful. “You are right, I am more than old enough to make my own choices.” He seemed to make a decision, but Hare could not tell what was going through his mind. Finally, Fade raised his head and looked around, tracking the wind. Hare raised his head and sniffed also.
“Auroch,” he said. “They are close.”
Fade sniffed again. “One alone, I think.”
“Then let it be alone, they are nothing for a Plains Elf to stalk. Even the Men with their weapons do not care to hunt them.”
“Hare I need you to wait here for a little while.”
Hare blinked in surprise. “Why?”
“I cannot say right now. But just wait. Please?”
Hare nodded. “Very well,” he said softly. He watched as Fade loped off into the night.
***---***
Ilinuil walked, arm in arm with Amaris, smiling as he felt the eyes of those around him upon him. He glanced at his lover, and said shyly “I fear I am turning vain.”
“Nonsense. You are merely enjoying a little deserved attention.” He gave him a quick kiss, then waved as he noticed Erestor, standing with Glorfindel.
“Master Erestor, how good to see you. I had heard you were unable to attend due to hairballs.”
“Oh I am quite recovered now,” said Erestor smoothly. “All I had to do was think of you and I vomited them up. Good eve to you, Ilinuil. So kind of you to amuse the village idiot for an evening.”
Ilinuil laughed quietly. “Yes, well, he is quite cute, I have become rather fond of him.”
Moonshadow and Nocturne tore past, parentless and waving a large fur cape. Glóin was racing after them as fast as his Dwarf legs would permit him.
“Bring that back, you imps! That’s me best one!”
Mari-Ton stepped out, beautiful in a black khiton, a torque of silver leaves about his neck, displaying his status as the Clan weaponsmith. He made a motion to the children, who obediently brought him the cloak. Mari-Ton took it, and draped the cloak over his arm. He smiled as he watched the old Dwarf approach, puffing and wheezing. Then, just as Glóin stopped, Mari-Ton bolted, and he and the cape and the Elflings all headed to the beach. Glóin filled the air with Dwarven curse words, then began labouring after the three.
Glorfindel laughed. “Poor old bugger. Should we go help?”
“I’ll go help him,” said Amaris. He gently kissed Ilinuil. “I suppose you will be safe here with Glorfindel. But mind Erestor, he scratches.”
Ilinuil smiled, and watched Amaris chase lightly after the group. “Ah, I am doomed. I think I love him.”
“You’re not doomed, you’re ill,” said Erestor.
“Oh perhaps, but I do love him.”
Gaelemir suddenly appeared, bowing formally. “Master Erestor, how charming you look this evening.” Then he turned to Ilinuil and grabbed him, bending him backwards and kissing him. Ilinuil pounded one fist against his shoulder.
“Let me go, you rogue!”
“Rogue?! Me?! Surely you have me mistaken for someone else!”
“As your former husband, surely I do not!”
“That’s right, we’re divorced. In that case, kiss me once more, to spare me from fading.”
Gaelemir kissed Ilinuil again, Glorfindel raising an eyebrow as Ilinuil, after a moment, put his arms around Gaelemir’s neck.
“Ilinuil, I am not sure you are supposed to be enjoying that so much,” said Erestor.
Gaelemir released Ilinuil, helping him to straighten up. The silver Elf looked positively weak, and his hair had become wild and askew.
“I’d forgotten how well you could do that.”
Gaelemir whispered something into his ear, and Ilinuil slapped him.
“Oh come on,” said Gaelemir, “just a quick one off in the bushes.”
“Need I remind you that we are both seeing other people?”
“Quite right, we are.” Gaelemir gave Ilinuil a gentle kiss on the cheek, then looked around. “Speaking of ‘other people’, has anyone seen Thranduil? He went off an hour ago with that little Bilbo fellow to look at an antique ring, can’t think what is taking him so long.”
Glorfindel turned white and red at the same time, with a tint of green around the edges as he recalled the time he had caught Thranduil and Bilbo at their ring games. Erestor tried to look innocent.
“I’m sure they won’t be gone long, you know how Thranduil loves gems. Oh look, there’s Ecthelion.”
Ecthelion walked up, clad from head to foot in the black garb of a thief, carrying a bucket of some horrible matter. He held a bundle of cloth that quacked irritably, and something else that looked for all the world like an enema bag. He passed the quacking bundle to Gaelemir, then all three looked at Erestor.
“Can Glorfy come out and play?” asked Ecthelion, eyes large and blinking innocently.
“Only if you are home by morning and I am not asked for bail.”
Glorfindel kissed Erestor, then he and his two companions fled into the evening. Erestor sighed and rolled his eyes.
“I must have been out of my mind to marry that Elf.” He looked towards Ilinuil, raising one eyebrow. “So, that was quite a kiss that Gaelemir gave you.”
Ilinuil blushed prettily. “I am not going to pretend I do not still love him, but it is better this way. He and I have had many a long and serious discussion about whether to reunite, and we both know that, for now at least, the answer is no. Besides, he adores Thranduil, and I love Amaris. But we made a vow. If in a thousand years we both find ourselves single, we will consider binding again, but only after a suitable courting.”
Erestor smiled. “I doubt that Amaris will have wearied of you by then.” He noticed someone approaching, and gently, almost protectively, drew Ilinuil close as Maeglin walked up. Maeglin bowed formally, then offered Ilinuil a small flower, cut of pink, white and green gems, artfully mounted onto a hair clip.
“One beautiful gem deserves another,” he said, and smiled.
Ilinuil accepted the clip, and set it into his long hair, then bowed graciously. “Thank you, Lord Maeglin. It is lovely.”
“I was hoping I could perhaps persuade you to join me in a stroll by the pond, to look at the floating lanterns.”
“I see no harm,” said Ilinuil. “Would Lord Maglor mind?”
Maeglin offered Ilinuil his arm. “Lord Maglor does not take exception to me making new friends. If you would feel better, you may bring Master Erestor, to ensure your virtue. But I assure you, I am most gentle.”
Erestor wondered what Maeglin’s cousin Idril would have to say about that, but held his tongue. Ilinuil took Maeglin’s arm, and the three strolled off towards the pond. Erestor smiled as he saw Estorel and Silivren running naked in the water with Fang, who was bouncing along, trying to catch the tiny frightened fish. Elrohir was there, his arm linked through Fëanor’s, and Bramble was explaining to Fëanor that Fang was a puppy.
“A puppy. You are quite certain.”
“Uh huh! My Ada said she was a puppy!”
“Child, pardon me for saying so, but you Ada sounds like a royal tw…”
Elrohir whispered into Fëanor’s ear, and the older Elf attempted to correct himself. “Royal…er…”
“He’s an archer.”
“Yes that’s what I meant to say. Royal archer. I’m sure he’s a fine Elf.”
“There’s my Sia! Sia come watch Fang chase fish!”
Rabbit prowled up, pausing to give Elrohir a kiss on the temple. Elrohir embraced him tightly, then, as Maeglin, Ilinuil and Erestor approached, they heard him introduce Rabbit to Fëanor.
Fëanor bowed formally. “Your servant, my good sir. Your daughter is most engaging.”
Rabbit knew little of Fëanor, save that Elrohir seemed fond of him. “Thank you.” He looked at Elrohir, who was plainly a little drunk. “Child, your wee ones are running wild and tormenting hapless Dwarfs.”
“Oh! Okay. I had best go get them Hold this, would you?” He passed Rabbit his glass, then went in search of his twins. Rabbit sniffed the glass, then sipped it. Fëanor began talking to him about wine, while Rabbit tried to decide if he liked the fluid. Erestor, Ilinuil and Maeglin walked up to the pair.
“Plying gentle Plains Elves with wine, now?” chided Erestor gently.
Fëanor shot a look at Erestor, trying to decide if he should be defensive or not. He decided that Erestor meant no harm, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a bottle of wine so red, it was nearly black. He took Erestor’s glass and tossed out the miruvor as though it were cheap grog, and filled the glass with the red wine.
“Try that. No Noldo should have to drink swill.”
Erestor sipped cautiously, and went weak at the knees with sheer joy.
“Oh this surely came from the cellars of the Valar!”
Fëanor looked pleased. “Not so lofty, I fear, but I do my best.”
“YOU made this!”
“I did, yes. I am a craftsman, if nothing else. Do you approve?”
Erestor savoured another mouthful of the exquisite wine, then passed the glass to Ilinuil. He tried it, and made a sound of pleasure.
“My Lord this is, without a doubt, the finest wine I have ever tasted.”
Fëanor passed the bottle of red to Rabbit, who took a drink straight out of the bottle. Fëanor glared at him for doing such a thing, then took another bottle out of a different pocket, this wine a pale gold.
“Try this.”
Ilinuil took the bottle, and drank from it. Fëanor rolled his eyes, plainly wondering where Elves these days were taught their manners, but said nothing. Indeed he smiled faintly as his wine earned more praise. He stood quietly by the pond, in the middle of an ever-growing crowd of Elves, sharing his wine.
Erestor watched Rabbit put away the entire bottle of wine, then shake his head. The large Plains Elf was beginning to move like new foal: carefully moving one long leg at a time, uncertain if they would hold him.
“I have a question, cousin, if you have enough of your wits left to answer.”
Rabbit staggered sideways, but caught himself. The Elves near at hand moved away to avoid being fallen on. “Ask,” said Rabbit simply, watching birds that were not there.
“How is it you knew that I was of your blood at first sight, yet did not know of Rúmil’s parentage?”
Rabbit was nosing around Fëanor in hopes of more wine. Fëanor handed him a bottle of white. The inside of his cloak seemed a veritable wine cellar. Rabbit accepted the bottle, and had a drink.
“When I met you, it had been many, many years since last I had seen one of my kind, and you were pregnant. The scent was easy to catch. Rúmil was unbound, and the child-birthing organs dormant. He had grown up among his mother’s folk, so there was no scent to catch. Later, when he began to develop, the rest of my clan had arrived. There were many scents, all intermingled. I assumed the faint scent I detected on him was simply from being in contact with the Thrayre-Iyre.”
It was true that Fëanor’s eyesight was not what it had been, and though Maedhros knew his father did not see well, he would have been shocked to learn how truly limited his father’s sight was. Beyond a couple feet, Fëanor was as good as blind, though he could see colours and lights. However he could certainly hear as well as other Elves, and perhaps because his eyes did not serve him well, he attended to sound more than other Elves did. Currently, he was hearing a drumming noise that did not seem to be from the musicians, and it seemed to be getting louder. Rabbit too, now raised his head and listened, and he passed his wine bottle to Lindir, who downed what was left.
“Do you feel that?” said Rabbit.
Fëanor looked down at the shallow pond he stood in, and noted the vibrations that were causing ripples to form around his ankles. “Earthquake?”
“Auroch,” said Rabbit.
“A what?”
“AUROCH!”
Rabbit shoved Lindir and Fëanor out of the way as suddenly an enormous beast went thundering past, scattering partygoers in all directions. It looked like an ox, but larger, black with a long shaggy coat, and great long horns. Rabbit did not want to guess at its weight, but the impact of its hooves was churning up the earth into flying clots. It went charging past, snorting and pursued hotly by one figure in a khiton and sandals.
Fëanor lay on his back, the wind knocked out of him, his beautiful black outfit ruined by mud and water, with Arda’s Oldest Elfling flat on top of him. He cleared his throat.
“Lindir, if my father sees us in this position, you will have to marry me.”
Erestor watched as the enormous animal raced, raging, towards the fire-pit. Folk scattered, and as he and the others gathered watched, the hunter leapt, landing square on the animal’s head and wrenching it sideways.
The Auroch struck the earth with the force of a boulder flung from a catapult, tumbling across the soft grass, snapping its huge neck. The hunter had flung himself aside, and now picked himself up off the ground, straightening himself and swatting dirt from his clothes. The gigantic carcass had rolled to a stop a mere three feet from January Hare, who had gone white and looked as though he was about to faint. Fade walked over to the mighty beast and stepped onto it, looking down at Hare. He was panting and sweaty, his body streaked with dirt, and he had plainly been injured. All around the scene was dead silence.
“I come from the grasslands, guided here by the wind, which has spoken to me of you. I bring meat, and pray you share it with me.”
Several things happened at that moment. Fëanor rose out of the pond, soaked and muddy, while Mauburz stepped out to demand, “What in all Arda crazy Elf think he do?” Elladan ran up to Fade to see if his injuries were serious, Fadai let out a scream of pure outrage, and Hare fainted.
“I like this place,” said Faramir to Boromir, “everyone is mad.”
Fëanor made a quiet growl of displeasure, and muttered under his breath as he removed his sodden cloak.
“Mr. Fëanor you’re all wet,” said Lindir.
Fëanor fixed Lindir with a gaze that sent the young Elf fleeing to Faramir’s side. Erestor gathered up his children, and said to Fëanor “Come with me, I have some garb you may borrow.”
Fëanor nodded, and left with Erestor. As folk left the pond in search of drink and dry clothes, none seemed to notice that Maeglin and Ilinuil were not among them.
***---***
Lindir came to stand beside Faramir, linking his arm through the Man’s. He was not sure how he felt about Boromir’s presence, but it seemed to make Faramir happy, and he wasn’t looking at Ilinuil anymore, so that was a good thing. He picked up Faramir’s glass and had a sip, discovering he had a bottle of the wonderful stuff Fëanor had been sharing. He poured himself some more, and then rested his head upon Faramir’s shoulder; listening to the two men speak as he enjoyed a brief reverie.
“I still do not understand how you came to be here,” said Faramir. “I thought you were dead!”
“I’m not certain that I am not,” said Boromir softly. “I recall falling to the ground, the pain of the arrows burning my body. I recall… Aragorn. He was holding my hand, speaking to me, but his words are lost now. Legolas, Gimli and Aragon pulled the arrows from my flesh, yet I felt nothing. They placed me in one of the little silver boats from Lothlórien, and set me adrift. I went over the falls of Rauros, yet it seems my boat was not dashed on the rocks, but rather survived, and kept on its way. Long I floated; I do not know the span of time. I was as one dreaming, yet could not awaken. Then, one fair clear morning, I awoke on a jeweled beach, and smelled bacon. I raised my head, and whom should I see but Frodo Baggins and his uncle Bilbo. Nothing was ever said about how they found me. They just passed me a plate and asked me how I was at making maps.”
He smiled, and fell silent for a time, looking around at the lights and Elves. Then he turned his attention back to Faramir. “I know I’m dead, little brother. Dead, and yet not dead. Granted a chance to make up for the wrongs I did to Frodo before I must truly depart. So, I wander Valinor with two Hobbits. We explore, make maps, and take notes of the flora and fauna. And I am content in a way I never knew I could be.”
“I am glad,” said Faramir softly. “It does my heart good to see the weight lifted from your shoulders.”
“My shoulders are glad to be relieved of the burden.” He cocked his head and looked at Lindir. “And who is this little flower?”
“Lindir,” said Faramir. “He’s taking a nap.”
“No he’s not, he’s upright and his eyes are open.”
“He’s dead asleep. He’ll stoke his furnace for about twenty minutes, then be up and ready to play us a tune.”
Boromir studied the Elf. The eyes were indeed open, and he was on his feet, both arms linked around Faramir’s, eyes slowly blinking. Boromir waved his hand before the Elf’s face, failing to get a response.
“Creepy,” he said.
“You get used to it,” said Faramir. “The fun part is sneaking up on the guards and yanking their pikes out from under them. Of course, being mortal, I have to sleep. They don’t.”
Boromir grinned. “Best choose you victims wisely. And just who are those two fair maids?”
Faramir looked and saw two familiar Elf-women in full armor climb onto a table, steins in hand. “Veet and Liritar, Elven princess of Mirkwood. Two words; stay away.”
“But they look so fair, so graceful, so….”
At this point Veet and Liritar draped their arms about one another and proceeded to sing:
“Tarannon Falastur was a boozy cur
Who was very rarely stable.
Minalcor was a filthy whore
Who liked to dance upon the tables.
Ondoher and his two sons were
Killed in drunken fights,
And Eldacar son of Valacar
Would drink throughout the night.
There's nothing Ciryandil couldn't handle in the raising of the wrist
Elendil himself was permanently pissed...
Hyarmendacil of his own free will
After half a pint of whiskey was particularly ill.
Aldamir really loved his beer
You could find him chugging every day of the year.
Alcarin liked to have a gin
And chase after the gals,
And Elessar always in a bar
Drinking with his hobbit pals.
Elendil himself is particularly missed...
High King of both realms but a bugger when he's pissed!”
“Need I say more?” said Faramir.
“Right,” said Boromir. “Avoid at all costs. But I’m putting toads in their bed for that song.”
***---***
Rabbit was learning one of life’s great truths. Being well over seven feet tall and having a long body and long legs was great for covering vast distances.
It was hell for getting one’s face off the sand after a night of drinking.
Furthermore, it didn’t help that Haldir was not six feet away, laughing fit to wet himself. Rabbit growled and managed to get his back end up, but his front end simply wasn’t co-operating, and attempting to move forward simply had the effect of mashing his own face into the sand.
Rabbit considered his predicament, then lowered the back end and tried to shove up the front end. He made it up partway, then all four limbs slid out and he was sprawled on his stomach like a splayed toad. Haldir screamed with laughter.
Rabbit sneezed out sand. “This is not funny.”
“Oh I disagree. It’s hysterical.”
Rabbit growled and tried to sort out his limbs. Once more he got the back end up, and again attempts to move forward resulted in shoving his face into the sand. He paused to consider his plight, and heard someone arrive. There was a long silence, then Rabbit heard Glorfindel speak.
“Haldir why is your husband pretending to be an ostrich?”
Haldir sat up, giggling, sand all over his garb. “He’s drunk. Help me get him on his feet, would you? You hold the back end, I’ll get the front.”
Glorfindel laughed. “Well I wish I could say this is the oddest thing I have ever done, but alas, it isn’t.”
Glorfindel walked behind Rabbit and took hold of his hips, then froze as he heard a rising, savage noise, not unlike a pitted warg.
“Second thought, you get your own husband off the sand.”
“Nonsense, he’s too drunk to bite you.”
Glorfindel walked around to the front end and knelt to take hold of Rabbit’s shoulders, but was once more confronted by a noise that would make a Balrog back up. “No this is no good, Haldir, this end bites.”
“Nonsense. He won’t bite you.”
“Haldir you are plainly drunk, so let me remind you of something. This is a Plains Elf. Plains Elves do indeed bite. I was safer at the back end.”
“He didn’t like you back there.”
“He doesn’t like me up here either, and this is the end with the teeth.”
“Oh fine, you make sure the back end stays up while I pull up the front end.”
Rabbit remained butt-up in the sand, wondering how he got in that position, and how much he’d had to drink. True, he’d had wine before, but this was the first time he had ever really permitted himself to let down his guard and get inebriated. He didn’t think he cared much for the results.
He felt Haldir gently take hold of him, and carefully pick him up off the sand. Slowly, Haldir and Glorfindel got him onto his feet and upright, where he stood, splay-legged like a newborn foal, and about as steady. Glorfindel walked in front of the towering inebriate and looked him up and down.
“Haldir he’s not going to go anywhere in his state. You’d be better off loading him onto a blanket and pulling him home. One step and he’ll be down like a house of cards.”
“Nonsense,” said Haldir affectionately. He walked up to Rabbit and embraced him. “You’ll be just fine.”
Rabbit wasn’t so sure about that, especially since he could not even put his thoughts into words. Walking may just require more effort than he could manage. Glorfindel bent down and picked up a small crab and waved it before Rabbit’s nose.
“Look! Yummy! Come get the crustacean!”
Rabbit drew his lips back and snarled at Glorfindel. He may not have been articulate, but he was certainly offended. Haldir was about to suggest Glorfindel go help somebody else, when there was a blood-curdling scream at the far end of the party.
“Oops,” said Glorfindel. “Sounds like someone found that bucket of turkey guts I misplaced.”
He departed before Haldir could ask what he was doing with a bucket of bird entrails, but in retrospect decided he really did not want to know. He turned back to his husband, gently taking his hands.
“Come along, Rabbit. One step at a time. I’ll get you home.”
Rabbit took one step, and paused. He carefully took another step, then seemed to forget which leg he had just used. Somehow he got tangled up in his own feet, and before Haldir could dodge, he was slammed down to the sand by his own lover’s weight. Vainly he tried to shove Rabbit’s great frame off of himself, then collapsed with a resigned sigh.
“Or we could just lay here until you regain use of your limbs.”
Rabbit belched in agreement, and passed out.
***---***
It had been a grand party, thought Erestor as he went into his children’s bedroom to check on them. Both were asleep, snuggled in their beds, toys scattered about the floor. Erestor noted with a sigh that Glorfindel had been allowing Syrdanna’s hatchlings to sleep on Estorel’s bed again; as five sets of bright eyes peered back at him. They were perched on the spare blanket at the foot of the bed, all five babies together no bigger than a medium-sized dog.
“No clawing the rugs,” he said to them, then closed the door.
He walked down the hall to Lindir’s room, but when he peeked in, Lindir was not there, nor was his mandolin. He had no time to wonder about it, however, before Arda’s Oldest Elfling came down the hall, clad only in a cut-off pair of breeches, his hair loose over his shoulders. He had his mandolin over one shoulder and Miss Goose under his arm, and a huge loopy smile on his face. As he drew closer, Erestor could smell the alcohol on him, and took note of the salt still glittering on his chest, the stain of dried alcohol on his flat midriff, and the piece of lime he was currently sucking on.
“Lindir? Are you quite all right?”
Lindir giggled, then lost his balance and bumped into a wall. There was a light in his eyes that suggested he had given himself permission, for one night at least, to leave a bit of the Elfling behind.
“I have GOT to tell you what nice Mr. Fëanor taught Mr. Faramir to do!”
“Lindir,” said Erestor, “Is Mr. Fin going to have to go kill nice Mr. Fëanor?”
“NO! I like him. See you take a piece of lime, some salt, and then you fill your belly button with this stuff. Mr. Fëanor called it T’kill-ya.”
“I get the idea Lindir. Let’s get you into Mr. Bathtub and not make ANY mention of this EVER to Glorfindel, or nice Mr. Fëanor will be rendered unable to ever produce more heirs.”
***---***
Elrond had left Rúmil to sleep, and went in search of Gil-galad. He finally found Gil in his private chambers, dressed in a simple indigo-coloured khiton, such as the Plains Elves wore, and he was finishing putting things into a leather bag. Elrond paused, watching him, uncertain what he was seeing.
“You are packing?”
Gil spun around, having not heard Elrond come in. He smiled at him, amber eyes full of love and warmth. “Yes Rondy,” he said softly. “I am packing. My time here is up.”
Elrond’s eyes grew large. “Your time is up? No! No that cannot be right! Do not frighten me like this, Gil, please.”
Gil walked over to Elrond, taking him into his arms and kissing him, running his large hand though the soft black hair. “I did what I came to do. Now I have to go.”
“No!” Elrond grabbed him, holding him tightly. “No I cannot lose you again, please! You said you wished to be a part of my family!”
“I did. And I am. But as you long suspected, there was more to this than you knew.” He kissed Elrond again, then picked up his bag and put an arm around him. “Walk with me, and when all is explained, please do not think harshly of me.”
Elrond did not protest as Gil led him out of the house. They walked down the stairs and into the still night, crossing the green lawns and heading to the cliff, taking the path that led to the beach. Once on the sand, they strolled in silence for a time, Gil with his arm around Elrond.
“This is not an easy thing to explain, Rondy. But I will try. You see, I made a bargain with the Valar to save your family. Now I must pay for their indulgence. Grand gestures do not come cheaply.”
“I do not understand,” whispered Elrond.
Gil drew a deep breath and sighed it out. “Elrond, I love you, deeply, with all my heart. And there is naught I desire more than to have you to myself, but that is not our fate. Your life has been a hard one, Elrond. Your parents fled to Valinor, leaving you to your fate when you were kidnapped. You lost one lover to war, and another to grief. Your father is…gone, your mother a bird, your brother dead, and your daughter has forsaken her immortal life. I grieved for you, bitterly. Then, as I looked down from the Halls of Waiting, I saw the most amazing thing. I saw this beautiful, brilliant young rascal come into your life, and love you utterly. I saw him reach into the well of your despair and draw you out. And I was jealous! Indeed I was, for that was my Rondy he was courting. But to see joy in your heart again was more than I could ever hope for. And I was content.”
Gil looked at Elrond, and flinched at the expression in the dark eyes that stared back at him. “I saw joy in your life. But I began looking into your future, and… I could not stand idly by. I would not. Something had to be done, and I traded much for the right to do it. Now I must pay, but I did what I set out to do. So I must be content again.”
“Gil, please, just explain.”
“I am trying, little Rondy. You see, there are ways of finding out things when one is dead. Places an inquisitive Elf can get into. I found… how could I best describe it? Let us say the Palantir of the Gods. And despite knowing that I was not to do this, and like some inquisitive Took, I looked. And I saw your pretty Rúmil talking with his Aie, and learning the bitter truth of his conception. And I saw anger brew in him, until one night, well into his cups and enraged and humiliated, I saw him come to the beach and find another to lie with, like some common tramp. Not to hurt you, but to hurt his mother, to rub her nose in what she had done. Drunk and content, he would come home to you and fall asleep, forgetting utterly what he had done. Until the night of your birthday party.”
“When he would bear two children, one fathered by me, one fathered by another,” said Elrond.
Gil nodded. “Much grief would ensue. Betrayed, you would turn your back on Rúmil, who would kill himself in grief, leaving you alone to raise a child you despised. Haldir, Rabbit, and Orophin would return to Arda, Orophin leaving Elladan behind, their love forever tainted by what had come to pass between their father and brother. Elrohir, ever the good little soldier, would try to make things right, but would ruin his health, and his children, brought here for the benefit of their people, would be left wild, finally falling into darkness. The child that was the cause of all this would finally rise to become the king of a realm yet unseen, but it would be weak, and tainted, and there would be no strength in his reign, for there would be none in his heart. His courage would fail when needed most, and the House of Elrond, which began as a community of love and tolerance and joy, would be naught but a brief grey spot in history, the last Kingdom of Elves, doomed to misery, folly and failure.” Gil looked at Elrond. “I could not let that happen to you, Elrond. You have been through enough grief. The beloved Herald of the High King deserved better. So I did the only thing I could. I begged to be permitted to have my fea briefly inhabit the body of the Elf Rúmil was destined to lie with. For Rúmil was fated to do this thing, and I could not stop it. But I could try to take the venom out of the sting.”
Elrond was astounded at what he was hearing, barely able to put his thoughts into words. “You altered not the event, but the feelings around it! Instead of having this be a night of evil, you made it a night of joy!”
Gil-galad nodded, then kissed Elrond. “I could not bear to see you hurt thusly.”
“But you are departing! I saw you as the King of a great realm!”
“No, Rondy, you saw someone who looked like me. You saw the child I had with Rúmil.”
“But… it is you reborn, is it not?”
“I do not know, Rondy. I do not yet know what price the Valar will demand for having granted me the right to do this. I do however know that River’s Gold would like his body back.”
“So that part of the tale is true.”
“Yes. The Elf whose body I wear is the son of a shipwright, found orphaned by Plains Elves. He’s happy enough there, though he is a terrible hunter. But they humour him, for he is their pretty child.”
“What is his fate?”
“I do not know. But do him this one favour, since he has been patient with me. His Sia will show up in your camp, skinny and bruised. I know not how he comes to be there, or what events lead up to it, for that was not the part of the tale I was shown. Take him in, would you? He is a good Elf, with a grand heart.”
Elrond was slowly absorbing what was being said, and what Gil had done for him. He abruptly dropped to the sand, overwhelmed by emotion, and sobbed.
“You saved me, you came back to save me, and my family. Gil there is nothing I can do to ever express my gratitude.”
“Oh I can think of something. I do have two hours before I have to give the body back.”
Gil sat down on the sand before Elrond, gently drawing him close, kissing him, and cradling him against his broad chest. The two sat in the perfect night, the stars glittering on the jeweled beach, the waves washing quietly, while Elrond wept like a child against the Elf who would forever be more dear than any could ever be.
“There, there, Rondy, it’s all right. I fixed it. You and Rúmil shall be lovers and warriors, kings and healers, for centuries to come. You shall be great among even the greats, and your children will be no less. Be happy, please, I have so little time left.”
“I am happy, you bastard!”
“Then stop snotting up my chest. Here, peel the fancy party clothes off, we’ll go make love in the surf like we used to.”
Elrond laughed, though it would be a while before the tears stopped. “What shall I tell Rúmil?”
“Tell him the truth,” said Gil softly, touching Elrond’s face. “He has had enough of lies and deceit.”
***---***
They made love in the surf, slowly, passionately, taking their time with one another, relishing this last encounter. When it was over, they bathed in the seawater before dressing. Gil picked up his bag, then turned to face Elrond once more. He kissed him, then touched his face.
“Do not weep,” he said softly.
Elrond could do nothing save weep, his heart breaking as it had years ago when he saw his husband fall on the battlefield. They held each other for a long time, saying nothing, hearing only the surf on the shore. Then Gil kissed Elrond again.
“I have to go little Rondy. But know that I am not gone from your life, nor am I far. You will see me again.”
Elrond nodded, then kissed him hard one last time. He at least released Gil, and watched him walk a few feet away, then pause and wait.
Elrond gasped as he saw the first spark of green light. Then there came many other sparks of green. They wove and flitted, dancing in the darkness, weaving together to form a great gate of twining leaves of glittering light. Slowly, the gate began to swing open, and Gil turned to look at Elrond.
“Goodbye,” he said softly. Then as Elrond watched, it seemed to him that a shadowy form left the large being before him. He watched the light of recognition fade from the Elf’s eyes, and soon he was looking one who looked like Gil-galad, but was a stranger. River’s Gold sniffed his surroundings, then gave a curious look to the weeping Elf-Lord before him. Then he was through the gate like a deer and gone.
Elrond stood and wept into his hands, unable and unwilling to hide his grief. In the peace and darkness, there was no need to be strong for the benefit of others, and he cried long, grieving his loss of Gil, and indeed matters he had long thought no longer troubled him.
He did not notice when heavy grey fog began to softly drift out of the gate, covering the area around him in a shadow. Indeed he would not have seen it at all had his attention not been drawn by the scent of rain, and the soft, distant sound of thunder. He looked up, his head aching from having cried so long and hard, and watched the fog roll out of the gate.
‘It’s a rain cloud,’ he thought as it snooped around his knees. Light flickered deep within it, brief flashes like lightning, and he could smell the dampness of it.
Something emerged from the gate, and Elrond gasped at the tall, rangy figure. It looked at him, skin and hair blacker than the night, a hole cut into the darkness where an Elf should have been. The eyes blazed green so bright and vibrant they almost seemed to illuminate the face of the Plains Elf.
The Elf focused his formidable gaze on Elrond, as though deciding if he knew him. His black face was covered in strange, white lines, which trailed into his long black hair. They formed a pattern, and seemed familiar to him, though he could not think where or when he had seen it.
The Elf stepped carefully across the sand, looking around. He was silent as the grave and seemed to move with slow grace, like a dream, or a ghost. His hair blew about him, but languidly, as though he were under water and the ocean rather than the wind stirred it. He was there, yet somehow not there, fog and shadow taken form and given life.
He turned and fixed Elrond again with his burning gold eyes, and huffed at him, fog exhaling from his nose and mouth. Then, with absolute silence, he leapt forward and began running down the beach. It was as Elrond watched the Elf run that a name came to mind, though he could not think why he would choose to utter it.
“Frost?” |
