THE KNAVE
Overall rating: yellow/orange
Category: slash (two male Elves in love), romance, drama, ANGST, h/c, humour.
Pairings: Orophin/Elladan, Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit - and some surprises
Warnings: mpreg, ANGST
Beta: Miss Eveiya
Summary: this is the story of Orophin and Elladan, and how they finally found happiness. Some ties not even death can cut - and life is a never ending gamble. It is also the story of Erestor and Glorfindel, and how they cope with their little Elfling, Estorel.
Author's notes: Thank you all so very, very much for your feedback – consider yourselves hugged! This moloch of a chapter was beta-read by Ye Wonderful Magic Rat and Ye Amazing Eveiya, and without them, this would be just lala.
CHAPTER 10
I returned a bag of groceries
Accidentally taken off the shelf
Before the expiration date
I came back as a bag of groceries
Accidentally taken off the shelf
Before the date stamped on myself
Did a large procession wave their
Torches as my head fell in the basket,
And was everybody dancing on the casket?
Now it's over I'm dead and I haven't done anything that I want
Or, I'm still alive and there's nothing I want to do
"Dead" – They Might Be Giants
~°~
It was in situations like this that Erestor's greatest virtue came to bear - the ability to stay calm no matter what happened. Three Elves returned from the Halls of Waiting? Unusual, of course, but no reason to get upset. He called for Terin, the healer, and made sure Elrond was brought to his rooms and taken care off - seeing Gil-galad returned from the dead had been an immense shock for the Half-elf, and Erestor didn't want to take any risks, so he had everybody banned from Elrond's chambers.
When this was done, he returned to the Great Hall, where the three fugitives were still standing. Nobody really dared to approach them, save Elladan, who just stood, staring, in front of Orophin, while Orophin gazed back at him, and Erestor considered them both lost to the world for the time being. He clapped his hands, and addressed all present.
"My lords and ladies – a moment of your full attention, please. We all were witnesses of a miracle today. But Lord Elrond would certainly not wish to see half of Arda turning up on our doorstep, so I swear you all to silence for the time being – and this is not a request. Melpomaen, I hope you have heard what I said. Anybody breaking this secrecy will be punished, and I shall oversee said punishment personally."
Melpomaen, who had already tried to sneak out of the door to herald the fantastic news all over the place, stopped dead in his tracks. He had no idea what kind of punishment Erestor had in mind, but from the expression in the dark Elf's eyes he could tell that comfy chairs or fluffy pillows would not be involved, so he nodded enthusiastically, and said meekly: "Yes, Master Erestor, of course. I fully understand."
"Good. I am most pleased to hear this. Elladan, Elrohir, please stay here; you too, Fin, and everybody else, please withdraw to your chambers, and speak to no-one about the things which have happened here. My lord Celeborn - I would respectfully ask you to get Haldir and Rabbit, and I am positive that you will show more common sense and tact when breaking this news to Orophin's brother than others I could mention here."
He glared at Gil-galad in a way that would have turned a Balrog to stone, and the former king visibly shrunk. 'By all Valar but Mandos - Elrond sure got himself a warg of an advisor here. What does he feed him for luncheon - raw meat?' he thought, and Erestor cocked an eyebrow.
"Mauburz - please return to the shop and make sure Lady Firinwë does not leave the house. She need not know what has happened here."
The large Orc nodded, and rubbed her paws gleefully.
"Is good. If not obeys, Mauburz will gag and bind stoopid Elf lady."
"No, Mauburz - no gagging and no binding." Erestor said, sounding regretful.
Mauburz was disappointed.
"Pity. Nobody ever wants Mauburz to have fun. Good then, no gagging and no binding, will just lock her up in the cellar. Can play with rats. Same family."
With that, she trotted out of the door, and the Elves present obeyed Erestor's command as well and retreated to their rooms. However, Erestor did not give in to the illusion that this incident wouldn't be the talk of Arda within a day. When everybody had left, he approached Orophin, gently stroking his cheek.
"My heart sings in delight for seeing you again, dear friend. You have been greatly missed."
Orophin didn't answer, he simply smiled, with that odd, dreamy expression on his face, and so Erestor turned to the blond Elf who was by now sitting on the table, trying to see his reflection in a silver fruit bowl.
"I know Orophin and the king, Master Elf, but may I ask for your name as I have not seen you before?"
The other stopped his inspection, and looked up.
"I am Amaris of Mirkwood."
Glorfindel, who had so far watched everything without saying a word, approached the Elf sitting on the table, who was now polishing the bowl with his sleeve.
"I know you - I have seen you before. Were you present at The Great Battle?"
Amaris looked up at Fin.
"Indeed, I was. It was there that I died."
"So you were slain by the evil forces as well."
Amaris thought about it for a moment, then he shook his head.
"That is not quite correct, no. As a matter of fact, I was tending to my horse when this king here", he gestured with his thumb at Gil-galad, "did his impressive stunt as The Amazing Royal Elven Comet, and of all the places to crash, he had to choose the spot where I stood. It was quite a quick death, if also somewhat messy. At least the horse escaped unharmed."
Gil-galad groaned.
"And here we go again... how often have you told this story now, Amaris?"
"Oh, let me see... I think this was the 19876th retelling, but I could be wrong there, it might even be the 19877th, Sire."
Erestor, who was reminded on his own bantering with Glorfindel in the days before their courtship, knew well that this could go on for hours, so he decided to nip any further war reminiscences in the bud.
"You are all tired, and you must be hungry. Let us sit down and eat something while the servants prepare your chambers. I must look after Lord Elrond later, and I suggest we discuss everything tomorrow."
* * *
Celeborn met Haldir and Rabbit halfway down to their cave, and from the way Haldir looked he could tell that the Elf already knew. Never before had Celeborn seen the former captain of his personal guard in such a state. His face was ashen, his hair hung loose around his face, and judging by the red-rimmed eyed, he must have cried. Haldir was unsteady on his feet, and Rabbit supported him.
"My lord - is it true?" Haldir called, trying to get to Celeborn as quick as possible.
Celeborn smiled, and folded the distraught Elf in a close embrace, all the time eyeing Rabbit to make sure the Plains Elf had no intention of biting off his hand or re-arranging his limbs. But Rabbit seemed not to plan any of this, he simply watched Haldir carefully, and for the first time, Celeborn saw the great love shining in those strange, yellow eyes.
Haldir could not hold back any longer, and wept, his face buried in Celeborn's shoulder. His lord rubbed his back, talking in soft words to sooth him.
"I knew he came back, he and two others. His scent was strong." Rabbit said, and Celeborn nodded. "Yes - Orophin is back, Haldir, and he is not alone. He brought Gil-galad with him and a Mirkwood Elf - no, that is not quite correct, I think it was more that Gil-galad brought him along."
Haldir stepped back from Celeborn, and wiped his face with his sleeve.
"I am sorry, my lord. It was just... when I heard..."
He broke off, and Rabbit hugged him.
"You should go and see him, Haldir - just... he does not seem to fully understand yet that he is home. Do not ask him questions, just be there for him."
Haldir nodded, and then he and Rabbit walked towards the Last Homely House, while Celeborn headed for the woods.
There was somebody else who needed to know what had happened today.
* * *
It was unheard of for the lady Galadriel to run. Usually, she walked, majestically, with dignity and the speed of an arthritic turtle.
Today, however, Galadriel was running. Barefoot, gown and hair flying. Her astonished people saw the lady of the Golden Wood speeding down the main road of Calas Garadhon, which, in itself, was remarkable enough, but when one guard reported that he had seen her actually climbing a tree, and more precisely, the one Rúmil had his Talan on, the Elves of Lothlórien began to wonder if some strange illness had befallen their lady.
Rúmil, who had just been stringing a bow, had to check twice when he saw Galadriel's head peek over the border of the fleet. The rest of her followed soon, and she dropped rather inelegantly on the smooth wooden floor, panting heavily – it had been millennia since she last climbed a tree, so she was a little bit out of practice.
Rúmil dropped the bow and jumped up, quickly crossing the room to help her.
"My lady!" he said, and shook his head.
"What are you doing here? And why are you here? And…"
"Sshhh…" she interrupted him, "so many questions, let me answer them one by one. I have good tidings for you."
He looked at her, puzzled, and while she tried to calm her breathing, she looked around. Nobody needed to tell her that this was a bachelor's room – clothes hung over chairs, weapons decorated the walls, and a heap of dirty laundry lay piled up beside the narrow bed. Her eagle eye also spotted a collection of erotic illuminations peeking out from under the bed. Rúmil noticed that she noticed and quickly kicked the offending scrolls under the bed.
"Good tidings, Rúmil! I have to tell you something, but you must promise me to stay calm. Do not get upset, do not recommend that I see the healer, and do not doubt my words either, no matter how unbelievable the news might be."
Rúmil frowned, a little suspicious, but he nodded.
"I promise you I shall not jump of the flet", he said, crossing his arms and looking at her expectantly. This must be quite some news if she had come to tell him personally!
"I have far spoken with Celeborn. You, I and some guards will leave for Rivendell this very hour."
She took another breath, and smiled at him, taking his hands in hers.
"Rúmil – Orophin lives! He is in Rivendell - your brother has returned!"
He let go of her and took one step back, just staring, not saying a word.
"I do not know how it happened, but like Glorfindel, he has returned from Mandos' Halls!"
The archer shook his head.
"My lady... why are you playing such a cruel joke on me... how can it please you to torture me so?" he finally asked with a small voice.
Quickly she stepped to him, cupping his face.
"How could I jest about such a thing - Rúmil, it is true, Orophin is alive! You will see him a week from now!"
Her mind reached out to his, and Rúmil saw the same picture Celeborn had sent to his wife - Elladan, hugging Orophin in front of the Last Homely House.
"So it is true then..." he said, still not understanding it, but there could be no doubt that it was true.
"It is true! He is back!" he finally shouted, and in an outburst of joy, he grabbed Galadriel around her waist, lifted her up and danced with her four times around the room. Realizing a little late what he was doing, he quickly put her down again when he saw the dumbfounded expression on her face.
"I am most sorry, my lady. Please forgive me, I forgot my place." he muttered, blushing.
Galadriel, still swaying a little and feeling dizzy, didn't say anything as she was too busy trying to keep her balance. Rúmil took her arm to steady her, and being a very practical Elf, he decided that, since he was in for some trouble anyway, he might as well make the best of it, so he drew Galadriel closer and kissed her.
Galadriel had learned early on in her life that it made absolutely no sense to fight the forces of nature like fire, the four winds, water, earthquakes and Rúmils. She still thought this was highly inappropriate, but considering Rúmil's skills in the kissing department (we remember: 8 points out of 10), she had to agree with him on one point:
It was a lot of fun.
* * *
Orophin felt like he was sitting close to a beehive. The excited chatter of the Elves at the large table in the Great Hall was like the buzzing of bees to him, and even if he had tried to concentrate and tell the voices apart, he would have failed.
He didn't try, though. It was as if he had been awoken unexpectedly from deepest sleep; he found it very difficult to understand what was going on. One moment, he had been sitting in a hall by a fire, all the walls decorated with heavy tapestries, but what he had been doing, he couldn't say. Had he been sleeping? Or dreaming? Both? Then the Mirkwood Elf had come to sit by him, whispering sentences which made no sense to Orophin. Though he knew the language, the words had no meaning, at least not to him. Finally, Amaris had shaken him.
"Elladan is waiting for you," he had said. This was all Orophin understood, but it was enough. Elladan was waiting, so he would come. He couldn't let Elladan wait, though he didn't know why Elladan waited at all.
It had been ridiculously easy. There was nobody guarding The Gate - after all, no Elf had ever done what Gil-galad had in mind. There had been darkness, cold, and then they had found themselves in the middle of a forest, naked as the day they were born, and in a way, this was not so wrong - had not his second life begun that day?
Only now, sitting here, at the familiar table, did Orophin realize the enormity of what they had done: they had returned from the dead. They had defeated Mandos, left the Halls of Waiting and returned to Arda - not as souls reborn, but as their old selves.
No, this was not true, either. Orophin knew he was not the same Elf he had been before. He was more - or less. This he couldn't tell yet. He felt oddly light, and also lonely, for the Elves who were eating, drinking and celebrating the return of their lost kin were strangely unreal. And if only they would stop talking - his head would explode soon. So many words, so much noise, almost unbearable after the silence of the Halls of Waiting.
Only Elladan was not talking. He hadn't asked any questions, and he didn't eat, either. He just sat by Orophin's side, watching him. Again and again, he would reach out, and shyly stroke his hand, as if to reassure himself that Orophin was really here.
Finally, Orophin couldn't take the noise anymore. He got up, and quickly headed for the stairs. He was like a wounded animal which escapes the healer to hide under a bush and lick its wounds. For a moment, the conversation at the table came to a halt, and Elrohir looked at his brother with concern, but when Elladan got up and followed his beloved, everybody resumed their previous chatter.
"Orophin - please wait for me," Elladan called out, and immediately, the Galadhrim stopped his swift stride. Soon, Elladan was by his side, and his lover looked at him, managing a weak and not very convincing smile.
"It was - loud," he finally said, hoping that Elladan would understand, and Elladan did. Again, he briefly touched Orophin's arm; no matter how often he touched the archer, he still couldn't believe that he was really here. The hand was dirty, and also Orophin's face sported more than only one smudge - the journey to Rivendell had been hard, and in all the excitement there had been no time to get cleaned up.
"Come - I will run you a bath," Elladan finally said. He wanted to get Orophin away from all the hustle and bustle which so clearly irritated the Elf, and maybe a hot bath would help him to relax, for despite the dreamy expression on his face, Orophin was strung taut like a bow string.
The Lórien Elf nodded, and did not resist when Elladan took his hand and gently led him up the stairs to his own rooms; while Orophin might have preferred to sleep in his own bed, his room had no bathroom, but Elladan's had.
Elladan opened the door, then he guided Orophin to a chair, sitting him down.
"Just stay here. I will prepare the bath for you, do not worry," he said, gently stroking Orophin's face - the boldest gesture he had made so far - then he went to the adjoined bathroom.
Elladan had always been very proud of his bath - he had hogged the biggest one in Imladris for himself, a large basin, hewn out of a single rock, which easily held five or six people. It was not uncommon to share a bath, in fact his ada always insisted the relaxed atmosphere of the bathing house had done more for treaties of peace and trade than any of his speeches.
The basin was laid out with a mosaic - a dozen brightly coloured fishes. His mother, who had been a skilled artist, had drawn the drafts for this bath herself. Green plants were growing everywhere, and sometimes, during the day, birds flew in through the open window to rest in this oasis. Bathing oils and sponges were lined up on the sides, and the bath was sourced by one of the three hot springs in Imladris, so there was always warm water available.
While Elladan unplugged the pipe to let the water flow, he tried to sort out his thoughts and feelings. Orophin was back - he was back. Alive. He sat on Elladan's chair in Elladan's room, and soon, he would have a hopefully relaxing bath in Elladan's bathroom.
And yet, it was unreal. While the water rippled in the basin, Elladan stepped to the window. From here, he could see Orophin's memorial. The blade of Tirith reflected the moonlight, and he could even see the young beech growing on the very place he had lit the funeral pyre and seen the body of his beloved consumed by the flames.
And now Orophin was sitting in Elladan's room, very much alive - confused, it was true, but he was breathing, talking and his skin was warm.
Elladan had to sit down for a moment. He was overwhelmed - months and months he had mourned, his days had been filled with nothing but pain and sorrow, and this should all be over now? How had this been possible? How had Gil-galad managed to simply walk out of the Halls of Waiting and back into his father's life again? Elladan just couldn't come to terms with the fact that the tall, impressive Elf with the wicked smile, who had kissed the Lord of Imladris as if it was the most natural thing to do, was the last High King of the Noldo who had died, burnt to ashes by Sauron.
Ai, poor ada. Elladan's heart went out to his father who was now hopefully resting, lulled into sleep by a very powerful sleeping draught the healer had given him. How would he cope? Would he welcome Gil-galad back into his life? Into their life?
Elladan's head started to hurt, and his thoughts wandered back to the Galadhrim in the other room. Seeing that the basin was almost full, he added some relaxing bath oil, plugged the pipe closed again and went back to Orophin, who still sat on the same spot and hadn't moved an inch.
"Your bath is ready", Elladan said, and Orophin got up, walking slowly towards the bathroom. "Will you... will you need help?" the younger Elf asked, and after a moment, Orophin nodded. He watched as Orophin stripped his clothes, slowly, as if this was a task he hadn’t quite mastered yet, and Elladan noticed that Orophin, who usually was very tidy and folded his clothes, arranging them in a neat, heap, just let them drop where he stood. The body revealed underneath was different – yes, Orophin was still taller than Elladan, but much leaner, almost fragile, and Elladan also noticed another thing:
All the scars, including the strange mark on Orophin's hip, had gone.
* * *
Tarin, the healer, had shooed all present out of Elrond's room, claiming that Rivendell's Lord needed rest, not a bunch of fussing Elves, and he had been rather firm on this point. Even Gil-galad's complaint was answered with nothing but a firm "Out! Now!", so currently, there was one grumpy former king exploring the Last Homely House, Amaris in tow.
"Now look at this library, Amaris – quite impressive, is it not?"
Gil-galad marched down the many rows of shelves, picking out a book here and there, reading the titles.
"Who would have thought Elrond would become a scholar one day," he said, a doting smile on his face.
"Considering that he was learning from you how to burp the national anthem of Mirkwood the last time I saw him, it is quite amazing, I agree."
Gil-galad chose to ignore this comment, and pushed aside the heavy curtain which hid the entrance to a smaller room in the back of the library.
"Well, well, well ... now what do we have here..." Gil-galad grinned after studying the titles.
"He kept all the books of my personal library!"
Amaris, whose face clearly expressed his disbelief that the other Elf had ever possessed any book other than "Nana Goose", moved his face closer to the shelf next to him, and frowned.
"Let me see.... 'Love potions through the ages'... 'Noldorian Bondage'... 'How to increase your pen-' - now this is - no doubt, your library," Amaris snorted, and put the last book quickly back, wiping his hand in disgust on his jerkin.
Gil-galad, not offended in the least, roared with laughter.
"Ai, Amaris - do not be such a prude! I always thought you Mirkwood Elves were a merry lot! Look - read this, it is a classic, and I am sure you will learn a lot about the history of your people."
With a rather smug grin, he handed Amaris the infamous 'Mirkwood Love Secrets'.
Amaris looked at the other Elf, and shook his head.
"Sire - I doubt that I can learn anything new from this book."
Gil-galad nudged him.
"Oh, so all these millennia, I had a master in the art of love by my side and did not know it? You should have told me! Imagine the fun we could have had! My dear Amaris, I must say, you never cease to surprise me. So I take you have read this book before?"
Aramis rolled his eyes.
"No, Sire," he replied, and stifled a yawn, "as a matter of fact, I wrote it."
With that, he swept out of the room, and left a rather confused king behind.
* * *
Elladan washed Orophin's hair. This was a strange thing to do, for he had never washed anybody's hair but his own before, not even Elrohir's, who was very peculiar when it came to his mane and would not let anybody else tend to it.
But now Elladan sat behind Orophin, gently rinsing the last traces of soap from the long, silver blond hair. Orophin had his eyes closed, and while he still did not speak, he seemed to like Elladan's attention.
"Come now, beloved," Elladan finally said, "if you sit in the water for much longer, you will turn into a prune."
Orophin obeyed, standing up, and Elladan wrapped him in a large towel. When he saw that Orophin made no attempt to dry himself off, he started to rub him dry, shyly, so as not to give the impression that he had anything else in mind.
"You have been waiting for me," Orophin suddenly said; a statement, not a question, and Elladan was taken aback by it. He dropped his hands, and stared at Orophin, then he looked down at the floor of the bathroom, which showed a filigree design of white and blue flowers.
"I – I just could not believe that you were gone."
Elladan felt Orophin's questioning look, and so he faced him.
"Elladan – I fear I should not be here."
Elladan stared at Orophin, took in the beloved face, then reached out to push a wayward strand of damp hair behind an ear.
"Do you want to go back, Orophin?" he whispered, bracing himself for the answer.
Orophin thought about it for a moment.
"No, I do not want to go back. But I am not here, not really. It is like a dream – nothing is real. Not this place, not the Elves, not the food on the plate. Only you are real. Only you."
Elladan didn't fully understand what Orophin was talking about, but maybe a part of his beloved had stayed behind in the Halls of Waiting.
He felt tears sting in the back of his throat again, but he managed to keep them down. No need to cry, no need to upset Orophin.
Orophin shook his head again, just like he had done a few times already this evening, as if to clear his head of some unwelcoming noise. Without a word, he put his arms around the younger Elf, and hugged him, pressing him close to his body. Elladan shuddered, overwhelmed by the events of this day, overwhelmed by his grief and by Orophin's presence. He didn't want to cry, he really didn't, but he just couldn't help it, and feeling Orophin's hand stroking his hair was not doing much to calm him down.
"If I were to lose you again, Orophin, I would surely die. I know it, I have felt it every day this last year, and I began to hear Mandos' call. I do not know why you came back, but I will never let you go again, and if you must return, Orophin, then I will join you," he sobbed, clinging onto the other Elf for dear life.
"Shhh, penneth, do not say such things. I would not want you to join me, I would want you to live a happy life, and to love again in time. You are precious, Elladan, you are a rare gem, and I would not see you wasted on grief. Promise me not to follow me if I should return."
Elladan shook his head.
"No, I will not promise this. Never. And you will not return, either. You are here, and you will stay here, and nobody will take you away from me again."
Orophin didn't say anything, and really, there was nothing anybody could have replied to this. He hugged Elladan even closer, gently rocking him. This was real, unlike everything else that had happened to him since his departure from the Halls of Waiting. Elladan was real, and so very much alive, the way his skin felt under Orophin's hands, the scent of his hair. Real. Alive. He sought Elladan's lips, and found them, and the young Elf gave everything he was into this kiss. This was not the playful encounter of the first time they had admitted their feelings, it was also not an aggressive attack like the kiss on the day of Orophin's departure: this was something fundamental; something deep, and Elladan felt as if he had only been one of two halves all his life, and now, finally he was made whole again.
When they broke off, Orophin stroked his cheek with feather-light touches, he ran his fingertips again and again over Elladan's temple, following the two simple warrior braids behind the ear, lingering there, caressing the sensitive skin.
"Make me yours, Elladan. Make me feel alive and real again," he whispered, and Elladan started to tremble.
"I – I do not think I can do this, Orophin." he said in a very low voice, and Orophin kissed him again, this time with more passion, and Elladan was overwhelmed by emotions and sensations of an intensity he had never encountered in his life.
" Elladan – I beg you. We do not know what the next day will bring, but please, make me yours. I want to be yours, nobody else's, and no matter what happens, I will never belong to another."
"You – you would bind yourself to me?" Elladan gasped, staring at the Galadhrim in wide-eyed wonder.
"I would, if you want me." Orophin said, and Elladan saw the first genuine smile on his face this day.
There was nothing to think about or to decide, Elladan knew what he wanted and what his answer would be. Embracing closely, the two made the vows which bound their souls in a union no power could sever, and when the last ancient word was spoken, a wonderful feeling of warmth and love consumed Elladan, his worried mind became calm, and the pain in his heart disappeared.
He took a step back, and watched Orophin. The dreamy expression was gone, he looked calm, peaceful, and there was no confusion or fear anymore in his eyes, only pure, unconditional love.
Without a word, Elladan picked Orophin up, placed a reverent kiss on his forehead and carried him to his chamber.
* * *
"Sir, you really should not do this."
"I know."
"But I guess you will do it, anyway."
"Of course."
"Have you considered that you might give the poor Elf a heart attack, Sire?"
"Amaris - please. We are talking about Elrond here, not about one of your prissy Mirkwood Elves."
"We are not prissy!"
"Of course you are. You hug trees."
"What is wrong with hugging trees?"
"Everything. I suppose you also talk to flowers?"
"But certainly. There is nothing like a nice afternoon tea with lupines and daisies."
"Are you making fun of me, Amaris?"
"Me? Never."
"Now listen - you stand here, and if you hear somebody approaching Elrond's room, you whistle."
"Whistle? Like - what?"
"What like what?"
"What am I supposed to whistle?"
"A whistle, of course."
"Yes - but what - which tune."
"Tune? You are not supposed to whistle a tune - where do you think we are, at the royal Mirkwood theatre?"
"I will whistle one of my own compositions then."
"If you have to."
"Well, if you do not want to hear any of my compositions, you just have to tell me, it is not like I HAVE to whistle for you, Sire."
"Amaris - has anybody ever told you that you are the most nerve-racking Elf in all of Arda?"
"You are too generous, Sire. But in the meantime, the healer has left Lord Elrond's room, so you might wish to sneak in now."
"Ah - good. I shall go then."
"Good luck, Sire. And - Sire?"
"Yes, Amaris?"
"I cannot be the most nerve-racking Elf in all of Arda."
"And why not?"
"Because Lord Glorfindel stated that you were."
"Amaris?"
"Yes, Sire?"
"Go and hug a tree."
* * *
The moment Fin's head touched the pillow, he fell asleep. He didn't even take off his clothes, or notice that Erestor had entered their chamber. The dark-haired advisor walked on tip-toes to the nursery, saw that Estorel was sleeping peacefully, and tucked the child safely in.
Their son was growing so fast - only a few months ago, he had been carrying Estorel around in a sling, and now he was already crawling all over the place, knocking over vases and chewing on scrolls, and while this was a very tiring phase for the parents, Erestor also took great delight in seeing his son's curiosity and following him on his great journey to discover the world around him.
The older Estorel got, the more character traits of Glorfindel Erestor discovered. The child might have his dark hair, but he was every bit like Fin, this was clear to see even at this early age. When he watched Fin playing with Estorel, he noticed how close the two were, and every so often, he thought back on the day of Estorel's birth, of his dream, and the bright, cheerful young Elf who had told him that he was Glorfindel's first son. Had this been a dream, induced by a memory of something Fin had said? Erestor had tried to gather some information about Fin's past in Gondolin, but to no avail - most books and reports were destroyed, and nobody Erestor knew had any knowledge of the time Fin spent in Gondolin. Sure, they knew that he was the head of the House of the Golden Flower, his extravagant dressing style and his outrageous relationship with Ecthelion had been the talk of town, still were, actually, but nobody knew anything about the time before Fin became the great hero the minstrels wrote songs about.
At times, Erestor even felt a bit jealous of the closeness between Estorel and Fin. During the pregnancy, he had felt so close to his child, his son had been a part of him, and now he dreaded the day when Estorel would start to take his first steps and walk directly over to Fin.
'Erestor, you are being foolish', he chided himself, trying to shake off this odd felling. He sat down in a chair, intending to read a little before lying down, but instead he simply watched his mate.
The love he felt for the warrior was sometimes so strong it hurt - like now. Fin had such a wonderful way with words - he could make Erestor smile with a single word, make him feel special, loved and blessed. Erestor, who had written thousands of speeches and would probably have managed to talk a Dwarf into singing "A Elbereth Giltoniel" if he had set his mind to it, was lost when it came to words of love. A simple "I love you" did not cover what he felt for Glorfindel, he wished he could sing a song for him, or paint him, or do anything else to show how much Fin meant to him.
But he was only an advisor - not a poet. Erestor got up, and walked silently over to the sleeping warrior. He slipped out of his clothes and under the blankets, snuggling up close to Glorfindel, hugging him tight. He loved the feeling of Fin's skin under his hands, surprisingly soft and at the same time covered with scars, and Erestor knew them all, having cursed those who were responsible for them ten times over already. He enjoyed the play of the muscles, and basked in the warmth the body next to him radiated.
Scars – they came in all shapes. Some marred the skin, some were invisible, but often, the wounds inflicted on heart and soul hurt more than a deep, bleeding flesh wound. Erestor could only try to imagine how painful the loss of a son must have been for Fin, if this had been the case. How could one survive a child and live on? Even the thought of losing Estorel made Erestor almost cry, and he quickly got up again, to check on the child once more. Estorel was still sleeping, his eyes glazed over in reverie, and he was drooling on his hobbit-doll. Erestor smiled, and gently stroked his child's head, careful not to wake him.
When he returned to the sleeping chamber, Fin was lying on the same spot as before, but he was awake now, watching him.
"Is anything wrong, love?" he asked sleepily, and Erestor shook his head, quickly slipping under the comforter again. Once he had resumed his place, he rubbed his face on Fin's shoulder and placed feather-light kisses on his neck.
"It is nothing. I only checked on Estorel."
Glorfindel turned around, and looked at Erestor, running his knuckles over his mate's cheek.
"This day had an almost surrealistic quality," he finally stated, and Erestor, who leant into the caress, nodded.
"Ai – I still cannot believe Orophin is back. And Gil-galad, of course."
"Yes, Gil-galad – how will Elrond take it?"
Erestor sighed.
"I do not know, Fin. I know that nothing happens without a reason, but what good should come out of his return, I cannot tell yet. Elrond was shocked to his core – I wish the king had shown a little more tact in breaking this news."
Fin hugged Erestor closer to himself, and idly ran his hands over his back.
"I agree – but see, Elrond has mourned so long for his king and – whatever he was, maybe this is a second chance? Maybe the Valar thought that he finally deserved some happiness, too? Elrond has always put others’ happiness before his own. I hope that, whatever comes out of this miracle, will make him happy."
Erestor snuggled closer to Fin, and started to nibble on his collar bone.
"As happy as we are?" he purred, and Fin grinned.
"Happy? Are you happy with me? Rats – and there I was hoping to annoy you royally by binding myself to you and teasing you for all eternity."
Erestor, now exploring Fin's chest with hands and mouth, looked briefly up.
"May I remind you that we are not bound yet?"
"Ah, but this was not my decision."
Erestor purred again, now caressing Fin's side.
"Are you upset that we postponed the ceremony?"
Fin shook his head, and ran his fingers through Erestor's long, dark hair.
"No – you were right. No joy could have come out of it in a time of great mourning. But now, with Orophin being back, we can finally take this step."
Erestor, who had kissed his way down Fin's chest and by now had reached his navel, made the warrior squirm by teasing it with his tongue, then he kissed his stomach and rested his cheek on it for a moment.
"I love you, Fin. You know this, do you not? Even if I might not always find the right words to tell you, I do. You are… you are everything. Sometimes I think I only really started to live the moment you began to love me."
Glorfindel was deeply moved. It was not often that Erestor spoke of his feelings. Of course he knew that Erestor loved him, but in moments like this, he realized how deep this love really was, and he felt awed – awed and grateful for this blessing.
He gently stroked Erestor's hair.
"I know, beloved. Who would have thought some years ago that you and I would ever be here, holding such a conversation – life never ceases to amaze me."
Erestor laughed silently.
"We were quite a couple of silly Elves, indeed."
Fin grinned, too, and before he could comment, Erestor was atop of him, covering his broad, strong body with his own willowy one. He folded his arms over Glorfindel's chest and rested his chin on them.
"I want you Fin. Now."
Fin cocked an eyebrow at his mate.
"My, have we become demanding lately!" he said in mock indignance, and Erestor purred.
"You wear me out, beloved. I do not know how Mordorian Plains Elves survive their mate's fertility cycles without dying of exhaustion, but I shall ask Rabbit about it."
Erestor wriggled and made Fin gasp.
"Do you complain, beloved?" he asked, gently nipping on the elegant tip of one of Fin's ears. "Would you rather have me obedient and submissive?"
"Stop giving me ideas there…" Fin groaned, but Erestor was enjoying himself too much with this game, and while he shifted his body to give them both the greatest possible pleasure, he continued to purr into Fin's ear.
"Would you have me begging, even?" Erestor whispered, gently rocking against Fin's body.
"Ai Elbereth," Fin groaned, arching into Erestor's body, "I have created a monster! What happened to the meek, innocent advisor I seduced with all the evil tricks in the book?"
Erestor, who was now attacking one of Fin's most sensitive spots, had a wicked grin on his face.
"I do not know - I think he has gone fishing."
Fin had to laugh.
"Fishing? Indeed?"
"Yes," Erestor replied, lifting up Fin's leg and placing soft kisses on his inner thigh, "fishing. Meek and mild-mannered Master Erestor is really good at baiting, you know."
"I heard this, too. And how about you? Do you like fishing?"
"Indeed, I do," Erestor purred, working his way slowly up, "it is, actually, only a matter of using the right bait for every fish. But I am sure that you, dear Fin, know a lot about fishing, too. You have quite impressive bait, after all."
"I have?" Fin gasped, and Erestor chuckled, the sound vibrating all through Fin's body.
"Oh yes, you have. And I know one fish who will certainly bite."
Fin yelped when he felt Erestor's teeth biting his skin.
"No need to bite! I do not like carp at all!"
Erestor, who had now reached his target, giggled.
"No carp? What fish would you prefer then?"
Fin peeked down at his evil advisor, who had a very smug grin on his face.
"I would much prefer a blowfish," he gasped.
Which was, admittedly, a rather corny punch line - but Erestor swallowed it.
* * *
Elrond was running over the battle field, trying to get to Gil-galad, who stood at the other end, just stood there, waiting, but the harder he tried to reach him, the slower he got, and the fallen who covered the ground like a morbid blanket reached out with their hands, clawing at his cloak and trying to bring him down. He knew he had to get to his king, or all would be lost, but no matter how long he ran, he never reached him. Eventually, he would fall, and the dead would drag him down, into a dark, horrible void. This was the moment he usually woke up.
Elrond sat up in his bed, drenched with sweat, and gasped. He hadn’t had this nightmare for a long time, and now it had taken a hold of him like never before. He raked his hands through his hair, and took a deep breath. What a horrible dream - and the one before hadn't been much better. He had dreamt that Orophin and Gil-galad had returned from the dead.
How pathetic. How old did he have to be to finally accept his loss? Millennia, and still he mourned his king, his best friend, his - lover? Had it been love? Yes, certainly for his part. It had been hero-worship first, and who could have blamed him - half of Arda was in love with Gil-galad, while the other half dreamt up ways to end his life. Ai, if he could only stop loving him. They say that your first love will always be your best, and maybe this was true. Elrond had loved his wife with all his heart and worshipped the ground she walked on, he had been her protector, her knight in shining armour, but with Gil-galad, it had been the only time in his life where he had been protected and somebody had looked after him.
"I see you are feeling better, penneth," Elrond heard a well known, all too well known, voice behind his back say, and if he hadn't been so utterly shocked, he would have laughed at being called "young one".
He spun around, and came face to face with Gil-galad. Yes, it was him. The dark hair with a slight red shimmer, the blue eyes with the small wrinkles in the corner. He looked like Gil-galad, he had the same scent as Gil-galad, and considering the outrageous way he had appeared this day, there could be no doubt that he really was the last High King of the Noldo, his best friend of old and, in addition, the greatest love of his life.
"Honey, I am home," Gil-galad grinned, and Elrond didn't know whether he should laugh, cry or scream – he felt like doing all these at the same time, so he did the next best thing: he grabbed for his pillow and whacked Gil-galad over the head.
"Never, ever dare to do to me anything like dying again, you… you…" he gasped, interrupted by Gil-galad's large hands tenderly cupping his face.
"Put away your deadly weapon, penneth," Gil-galad quipped, and kissed the completely confused Lord of Rivendell. After initial protests Elrond went limp in his arms, and when Gil-galad finally released him, he found that the Half-elf had fainted again.
"Ha!" Gil-galad said to himself, looking rather smug, "I’ve still got it!"
* * *
The next day, an amazingly quickly recovered Elrond, Gil-galad, Amaris, Erestor and Glorfindel sat around the small table in Elrond's study. The Imladris Elves wanted to know why the Valar had sent the trio back.
Gil-galad looked a little uncomfortable, and pushed the glass in front of him around the table, sighing.
"You know, it is not exactly true that we were sent back," he finally said, eyeing Amaris who was polishing his finger-nails, a fine smile playing around his lips.
"Not exactly? Could you be a little more specific, my lord?" Erestor asked, all chief advisor from head to toe and rather intimidating, especially with that crow on his shoulder, whose first deed had been to try and peck at Gil-galad's eyes. Lovely staff Elrond employed. Charming.
"What Gil-galad King tries not to tell you is that we were not sent back at all. We simply left. Sneaked out through the gate without leaving a note," Amaris said, in his usual bored voice, as if he was dictating the shopping list to one of his servants.
Elrond's eyebrows almost touched his neck.
"You did what? You mean you left the Halls of Waiting on your own? Without being sent back? You have defied the Valar?" he gasped, not able to fully take in the enormity of what he had just learned.
Gil-galad tried to look guilty, but he failed.
Erestor squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, rubbing his eyes.
"My lord – I do not comprehend fully what happens to the Fëa in the Halls of Waiting."
Gil-galad scratched his head.
"I do not fully understand the concept, either. We all have issues in our lives that we need to come to terms with, bad habits, that kind of thing. And once we are even, we can go back. Or something."
"Or something?" Elrond asked, studying Gil-galad's face, but the other Elf shrugged, so Amaris, ever helpful, offered some explanation.
"What his vocally challenged majesty wishes to say is that he, for example, had a list of evil deeds the length of the River Bruinen, and to regret all this and see the light, he would have had to spend at least another two or three ages in the Halls of Waiting."
"Oh, come on," Gil-galad groaned, "it was not THAT bad."
Amaris cocked an eyebrow, and started to count on his fingers.
"Sire, let me refresh your memory. There was overindulgence in alcoholic beverages, excessive smoking of Mithrandir's special weed, gluttony, the banana-incident, the..."
"Banana-incident?" Elrond interrupted, and wriggled his eyebrows.
Gil-galad waved him off.
"Do not ask."
But Aramis, once started, could only be stopped by force.
"Then there was the matter with the maidens, disrespectful behaviour towards the elders, seduction of an innocent, continued...."
"What innocent?" Elrond asked, and blushed when both Elves looked at him with a slightly amused expression.
"Oh. Me."
"Yes, you."
"... war mongery, horse theft, insulting of the Valar, parking of a horse in a pedestrian zone, repeated…"
"Enough, enough, I get the picture," Erestor groaned, and he felt a major headache approaching.
"Now all I need to know is why in the name of Elbereth you undertook such madness? Is Arda in danger? Have you an important task to accomplish? Why?" he asked, looking at the two Elves in despair, and his mood did not brighten when Amaris started to laugh out loud, a pearly laughter like the ringing of silver bells.
"Ai, Master Erestor, you are just too amusing! Please forgive my outburst, but this is priceless. His royal highness here decided to flee the Halls of Waiting for one reason only: to, I quote, 'keep this Lothlórien trollop from weaselling his way into Elrond's bed chamber' – so, in a way, yes, you are right: Arda is in danger!"
Gil-galad, whose face by now had the colour of an over-ripe tomato, glared daggers at Amaris.
"Arda is not the only one in danger here if you do not get your wriggling tongue under control, Amaris."
The Mirkwood Elf, completely unimpressed, continued to polish his nails, giggling once in a while, while Erestor and Elrond slowly realized what a big, big mess they had gotten themselves into.
Elrond gently put his hand on Gil-galad's sleeve.
"Ereinion – the Valar know that having you here again has made me one of the happiest Elves that ever lived, but my heart is also heavy with sorrow, for you know, just as I do, my dearest, that Mandos will not tolerate this. If I could save you by giving up my life, I would happily do so, but Ereinion – I cannot fight the Valar. Think how much pain the Firstborn had to suffer when they turned their backs on them the last time – this cannot happen again."
Gil-galad sighed, and even Amaris looked serious.
Elrond was right – Mandos would not tolerate this.
* * *
"Do you hear this too?" Glorfindel asked, and a deep line showed above his nose, a sign of great concentration.
Erestor listened.
"No, I do not hear anything," he replied after a while, and managed to grab Estorel by his leggings before the child could tear a fistful of pages out of a book on herb lore.
"That is exactly the point, my dear. There is nothing to hear. Not a sound. No bird singing, no wind blowing, no leaves rustling."
Glorfindel stepped on the balcony, and when he looked down the street which led from the Last Homely House through Rivendell and out of the village, he felt his hair bristle.
"Erestor - come here, look at this," he called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes from the street.
The advisor picked up the child, who protested and whined.
"Estorel, now be a good Elfling - let us go out on the balcony and see what Ada has discovered, shall we?" he said. Estorel seemed to consider this for a moment, then he started to suck on his thumb and was happy.
"I do not like what I see here, Erestor," Glorfindel said, and pointed towards the street. Erestor followed the outstretched hand with his eyes, and frowned.
It looked like mist - white mist, crawling up the street and already covering parts of the wood. Fin was right - there was no bird singing, and the sun had hidden behind heavy clouds. He could hear Elladan and Orophin talk in the room below, but all of nature's everyday sounds were absent. Even the soft breeze which had played in his braids in the morning had gone. Erestor had experienced such before - it was like the quiet before a heavy thunderstorm broke loose, but though the sun was hidden, there was no indication of bad weather.
And the mist was now approaching Rivendell with increasing speed.
"This is not normal," Erestor said, instinctively hugging the child closer to his chest.
"No, it is not."
Fin looked at Erestor, then he lifted his hand, and first stroked the head of the child, then Erestor's cheek.
"I am afraid I know what this is, my love. Come - let us go outside."
* * *
Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel stood at the top of the stairs; the Elves of Rivendell had locked themselves away in their houses, instinctively hiding from the upcoming storm, and those living in the Last Homely House were standing close by the door in the Great Hall, not allowed to go outside. Despite vocal protests from Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond would have no gainsaying in this matter, and so they had to obey.
Never in their long lives had the three Elves encountered a sight as frightening as the five riders who headed for the Last Homely House. Four of them looked like they consisted of pure light, shimmering masses of sunrays so bright Elrond had to shade his eyes. Their horses were beautiful, manes like silk flying in the air, and around them was an aura of light, too. Elrond could barely see the outlines of bodies, and it was not possible to tell what the riders looked like. Those four, so he knew, were the Riders of Light, the purest of souls, to guard Mandos and guide those who got lost out of the darkness.
The hooves of their horses should have thundered on the ground, but no sound could be heard, and it looked like the riders were moving in slow motion. Elrond felt the hair on his neck bristle when he finally caught sight of the dark figure riding in their midst.
Mandos.
All of a sudden, before Elrond knew what had happened, the five riders came to a halt in front of him, and he, Erestor and Glorfindel sank to their knees, heads bowed, not daring to look up, and unable to speak.
For a long while, nobody moved, and all Elrond could see were the prancing hooves of a black horse. Then, finally, he felt a wisp of warm air on his cheek, like a gentle caress, but he was sure nobody had touched him.
"Rise, child. While I ask for respect, I do not require submissiveness."
The voice was oddly impassionate, Elrond thought, and he cast a sideways glance at Erestor, who had looked up at these words, an expression of awe on his face.
Still not looking up, Elrond rose, and so did Erestor and Glorfindel.
"Look at me, child," the voice ordered, and Elrond finally looked up.
Whatever he had expected him to look like – this was beyond everything he could have imagined. The rider was clad in black hunter's garb, two bangs of hair black as the night, held together by clasps of silver in the form of skulls, hung down each side of his face, while a mass of hair cascaded down almost to his waist. He wore a circlet matching the clasps, and he was, there could be no doubt, the fairest being Elrond had ever seen. A face of unearthly beauty, Elven looking, but instead of eyes, there was something Elrond could only describe as black light, burning coals, eyes which could see to the bottom of Elrond's soul, and maybe even beyond.
"You know who I am," the rider said, and Elrond nodded, finally finding his voice again.
"You are Mandos, the Guardian of the Halls of Waiting."
"Yes, I am Námo, who you call Mandos. I am here to demand what is mine."
Elrond trembled. Not only was he facing a deity, he was also facing a loss that would probably break his and his eldest son's heart.
"Námo – I know that we mean nothing to you, and whether we live or not is of no importance to you, as we are only grains of sand in a desert, but I beg you, do not take those who have left your halls to return to our midst away from us, for we love them dearly, and this loss would pain us more than we can bear."
The rider got off his horse – not that Elrond observed it, it was a fluid motion, and Námo stood in front of him.
"Pray tell, child – why do you think you mean nothing to us? Have we not given you life? Have we not given you eyes to see and a heart to feel? How could we not care?"
"You have taken my son," Glorfindel said, and stared at Mandos with a mixture of awe and hate.
The Harbinger of Death looked at Fin thoughtfully.
"I did not forge the blade that slew your child. I took your son, this is true. But I have given him back to you, have I not?" the Vala said, cocking his head and looking at Erestor.
Glorfindel stared at his lover, then at Mandos again, and when the meaning of these words finally sunk in, he buried his face in his hands.
"Child, the loss you bemoan is only temporary. Death is an act of purification – your soul returns after undergoing a process of change and improvement. Do you not see that this life you all cling to so fervently is only the first step on a long road?"
Elrond sighed.
"I know this, my lord Námo, but still, this life here is the only one we know, and our hearts are bound to those we love."
Námo nodded.
”I am well aware of this. But we have set laws, child. And we must see that these laws are obeyed, or chaos would reign and this world would be destroyed. So I am here to claim back those who are mine."
Námo took a step back, and looked at the door, which opened all by itself, revealing Gil-galad, Amaris, Elrohir, Elladan, Orophin, Celeborn and Haldir, who all stared at him in shock. Rabbit stood beside Haldir, Bramble clinging to his leg, Estorel on his arm. Bramble and Rabbit were growling.
"I am calling you, Ereinion Gil-Galad, Amaris of Mirkwood, and you, Orophin of Lothlórien, to follow me and return to the Halls of Waiting, so that your souls may be purified and reborn in time."
This was a voice that had to be obeyed, and the three Elves stepped forward.
"No! No! I will not have this! I will not lose you again!" Elladan cried, and clung to Orophin, who looked at him, devastated.
"Let me go, beloved. There is nothing you can do. We have done wrong. We have overstepped a border we should never have, and now we must set this right again."
"I will not have this!" Elladan screamed, his fingers digging deep into Orophin's arm, tears streaming down his face.
Elrond stared at Gil-galad, who returned the look, sadness in his eyes.
"I am sorry, love. Again, I cause you grief, which was what I tried to prevent."
"Mandos – Námo – these Elves have wronged you, I do not deny it. But see – Elrond and Elladan would surely fade from grief if they lose their mates again. Can you not make an exception? Only once?" Celeborn asked, looking at the Vala with pleading eyes.
Námo cocked his head.
"Exception? There is no such thing as an exception. Exceptions were invented by your kind as an excuse for not following the law. It is up to these two Elves to decide if they want to fade or not, I have no say in this."
He beckoned the three fugitives, and again, they followed his call.
"I will not allow this! Ada and Elladan have suffered enough already!"
Before anybody could react, Elrohir, who had watched the whole scene in disbelief, leapt at Námo.
"No!" Elrond cried when he saw his youngest son attacking the Vala, but it was already too late to prevent this sacrilege.
The very moment Elrohir touched Námo, his heart stood still, and he died. A bright light beckoned him to follow, and while he heard his father's and brother's distraught cries, he felt oddly warm and protected. He was falling, into an endless void, and suddenly, he was caught, safely cradled in somebody's arms.
Námo laid the young Elf gently in front of Elrond, carefully so as not to harm him. Then he looked down at the unconscious Elf, studying him.
"A courageous heart and a fiery spirit he is, your son. But it is not his time yet, so I give him back to you."
Elrond knelt down beside his youngest son, checking his pulse and holding his hand, and really, Elrohir's eyes fluttered open.
"Ada?" he asked, confused, "what has happened?"
Elrond didn't say anything, just hugged Elrohir close.
"You stupid boy," he whispered, "you stupid, wonderful boy."
Námo had returned his attention to the three fugitives.
"Come now. I have dwelt here too long already."
Celeborn had watched the scene, all the time trying to think of a way to keep the three Elves here. Not that he would object to seeing the backs of Gil-galad and Amaris, mind you, but the thought of seeing Elladan's and Elrond's hearts broken all over again was too much for him to bear. A last idea came to his mind, a silly one, maybe, but he remembered one of the few things Orophin had said about his encounter with Mandos. Could this work? Well, he had to try, at least.
"Námo – would you consider gambling for them?" he asked, and the Vala, who already held the reins of his horse, turned around, slowly, cocking an eyebrow.
"Gamble? You offer to gamble for their souls?"
'At least he is not refusing outright or turning me into a toad', Celeborn thought.
"Yes, my lord, this I offer."
Námo laughed. It was odd to hear a Vala laugh, but at the same time, Celeborn felt his feet on safer ground again.
"Child – you want me to gamble for something that I already own? This would be a bad deal, do you not agree?"
Celeborn thought about it for a moment.
"There you are right, my lord. So I shall raise the stakes – if I win, Orophin, Gil-galad and the arrogant snob from Mirkwood stay here, unharmed, and you will not claim them as yours."
Námo smiled at Celeborn, amused.
"And if I win, which, I have to say, is very likely, child? What will be my prize?"
"If you should win, you can claim them, and I will come with you, too."
The Elves who had watched the discussion with baited breath cried out.
"Grandfather, you cannot do this!" "Celeborn! Have you gone insane?" "My lord!"
But Celeborn was determined.
"Námo – as you said yourself, you are very likely to win. So what do you risk? You might win my soul, and I assure you, I am entertaining company. I would even bring the TobleroTablero board."
Námo looked at Celeborn, and the former lord of the Golden Wood felt highly uncomfortable under this scrutinizing look.
"Very well," Námo finally said, "it shall be as you wish. But note well, child: if I win, there will be no further bargaining, and you will follow me out of your free will. Do we have an agreement?"
Celeborn nodded.
"You may choose the game to play, child, as it was your idea." Námo told Celeborn, and the Elf nodded.
"I choose the cards then, my lord."
"The cards – ah, I would have preferred the noble dice myself, but very well. Which game?"
Celeborn thought for a moment, then he said: "Each of us draws one card. The higher one wins."
Námo nodded in agreement.
"It shall be as you wish."
Then he turned his head to one of his guards, and said something in a language none of the Elves had ever heard, it was like the murmuring of the wind, and the light moved from its horse, towards its master.
The ethereal being reached out a delicate hand, a deck of cards resting on its palm.
Námo picked the top card, looked at it, then showed it to Celeborn.
It was the Ten of Spades.
Celeborn swallowed hard, and almost took a step back when the bright figure moved towards him. He stared down at the cards, then up to where the being’s face should be, but there was only a bright, warm light – liquid love, he thought, how very odd, then the cards were in front of him, and he picked the top one.
For a moment, not a sound could be heard, and Erestor, who was the one closest to Celeborn, was sure even his heart did not dare to beat.
"I got the Knave of Hearts, my lord," Celeborn finally said, showed the card, and everybody sighed in relief, sending prayers of thanks to every Valar save Mandos.
Námo looked down at the card he still held, then up at Celeborn, and finally, he nodded.
"You have won, child. You may keep these three rascals."
Turning to Gil-galad, he added: "In your case, I should be grateful, I presume. Considering the trouble you caused, I most certainly hope that I will not have to see you any time soon in my Halls."
He cast a last look at Elrohir, thoughtful, so it seemed to Elrond. There was a voice in the young Elf's mind, frightening and tempting alike.
//Your company will be one I shall cherish once your time has come, fair one.//
Námo made to mount his horse again, and Celeborn, who still stared at the living light in front to him, felt how his knees grew weak – only now he fully realized what had been at stake for him.
The white figure moved forward, and whispered something in his ear, a deck of cards was slipped into his hands, and then the figure moved away, mounting the horse. Within a moment, the five riders had disappeared; where to, nobody could tell, but for a long while, everybody stood as if frozen.
Finally, Celeborn looked down at the cards. He flicked the first one over – it was the Knave of Hearts. He flicked the next – the Knave of Hearts again. In fact, the whole deck of cards consisted of nothing but Knaves of Heart.
Erestor, who had been among the first to move and step to Celeborn's side, watched in disbelief how the Lórien Elf went through the deck.
"Celeborn!" he gasped, "does this mean this purest of beings has been cheating?"
Celeborn smiled, tenderly caressing the cards in his hand.
"Of course she has," he answered, still smiling.
"She has always been daddy's girl."
* * *
Author's notes:
You didn't expect to see her in this story, now did you! In my universe, Elrond and Celebrían loved each other dearly. And she has not sailed to the West, she has died (I never liked the concept of her "abandoning" her family). Being the loving wife, mother and daughter even beyond life, she would certainly do anything to make sure her family is happy – even cheat on Mandos. ;-)
Amaris: in case anybody should wonder, sounds a lot like Eric Idle in my mind, but then my mind is oddly wired.
Orophin: ai – first I thought about sending him back to Mandos to add some drama, but then there can be too much of a good thing, so I decided to let him stay with Elladan right away, and it is only a matter of time before they get their own Talan, including picket-fence and a dog. I am such a sap.
Haldir: still hasn't got a clue, but then there is still one more chapter to go. Trust in me.
Námo (aka Mandos): yes, it's Keanu Reeves, hiding in the Halls of Waiting from Agent Smith.
I have always been fascinated by fairytales in which men (I add here "and women" because my beta had a feminist fit over it ::snicker::) tricked death. There is one legend from France about "Death in the Apple Tree", which is about a farmer who manages to get the Grim Reaper trapped in his apple tree. In the beginning, this looks like a good thing, but then nobody dies anymore, the ones who are terminally ill have to suffer without end, and when the army of the enemy attacks, the farmer's people can't defend their country anymore because no matter how many enemies they kill, none of them ever falls. Finally, the farmer sees the error of his ways, and sets death free.
I am a mortician's daughter, and I had the great luck to grow up without being scared by death; I always looked at it as a normal part of life, and, depending on your beliefs, as the first steps on the way to something great that we don't know. I quite like the term "The Brother of Sleep" to describe death, and no, that's not morbid – it's healthy.
I guess this is why Námo is not portrayed as a bad guy in this story.