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Blue Vaults of Varda
by Caethieu
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Summary: My variation on the theme of Elrond and Gil-galad's relationship. Elrond returns to Valar and is put to work.


Chapter 5: Training

It was already dark when the young king and his charge took leave of the Lady Galadriel and boarded their ship. The unfamiliar surroundings had worn Elrond, and he fell asleep as soon as he reached his cabin. Thrashing waves beating against the wooden ship soon woke him up again, despite his weariness, and he wandered out to the top deck.

It was raining, not heavily enough to soak his long tunic, but enough to make it stick to his body. His eyes instantly turned to the bright star that Maedhros had called Tancol, the Signifier.(1) The star had appeared just two years ago, not long before he and his brother were rescued.

"You are taken by that star," Gil-galad's voice stirred him from his musings a moment before strong hands draped him with a thick mantle. "You watched it much of the way here."

Elrond looked up and smiled sheepishly. "Aye, Majesty. They called it Tancol. Makalaurë said 'tis the Silmaril of my mother. He said Ulmo must have carried it to Lady Varda." Elrond turned fully to face him, his eyes pleading desperately.

"Gil-Estel, as Círdan calls it, may bear that hope if you can, child. There is no other star so bright," the king said quietly, as he unconsciously wrapped his arms around the younger Elf, holding him close. Both were silent for the rest of the journey.


Elrond had fallen asleep on his feet, lulled by the warmth of the Elf behind him and the steady breath of Ulmo, which had calmed with the child's soul as he stood watching the star and the waves. His guardian caught him before he fell, lifting him into his arms. When the ship arrived in the Balar harbour, he carried him into the castle. Elrond woke on the way. "What...?"

"Shh," Gil-galad interrupted him. "We are back in Balar now. Go back to sleep." But Elrond could not obey. His thoughts ran to the new room awaiting him as he saw that the king did not go toward Círdan's cottage.

His suspense ended shortly when the king entered the royal hall and carried him into a large bedroom arrayed with all of his possessions from Círdan's house and warmed with colorful tapestries and rugs. "This is to be my new room?" Gil-galad nodded. A knock on the door signaled the arrival of a basin of steaming water and a fresh towel, and Elrond stripped off his damp clothes and washed gratefully, too tired to care for modesty, as the king found a soft shirt for him to sleep in. He pulled the shirt on, and climbed into bed.

Gil-galad sat on the edge of the bed after he tucked the Half-Elf in, running his hand through the black, liquid locks below him until Elrond fell asleep.


Elrond spent the next three days waiting on the elves that were tilling the earth, preparing it for the spring sowing season. He carried water to them from the well, watched to make sure they took breaks, and helped measure out plots.

At first, he griped to himself because the work was not as interesting as Elros's work in the shipyards, and he would rather lie on the soft grass to read or write. By the end of the first day, however, he found that the work was oddly satisfying. The elves were clearly grateful for both the water and his company. He learned their work songs quickly and merrily sang along. They broke at mid day for dinner, and Elrond supped each day at Gil-galad's table, after his work was done.

At supper on the third day the king said, "Elrond, you have worked very hard in the last three days, and so you may spend the evening with Círdan and Elros, if you wish. Tomorrow, you will spend the day with me.

Afterwards, Elrond found Elros and they ran off to Círdan's cottage, for he had agreed that this would be a good night to fulfill his promise of allowing them to walk with him by the sea this evening, a time which he normally reserved for solitary meditating. As they waited for him, they talked excitedly.

"I have to show you my practice sword, Elrond! I just got it yesterday!"

Elrond's eyes widened in surprise and envy as Elros took it out from under his cloak. "Stars!" The mild oath crossed his lips before he could stop it. "I wonder when I'll get mine."

"Probably soon. Maybe we'll get to train together!"

"That would be brilliant!"

"Here's Círdan. I've got to go put it away before he sees. He said, I am 'under no circumstance to have it unsheathed when an adult is not present,'" Elros quoted mimetically, before stealing into the cot.


Half an hour later the three walked softly by the seashore, listening to the roll of the waves much as Elrond had on the ship. But, this time, Círdan sang softly. Elrond could not tell if he sang wordlessly or in a tongue that he did not know. Gradually the twilight faded into an early darkness, starlit and still. Elrond found that he no longer walked along the seashore, but along the brim of a clear freshwater lake.

There were many other elves, fishing and dancing and singing, all clad in white. Elrond noticed that he was also clad in white. Círdan was there, beardless and much younger, but he did not see Elros. He saw Elwë, Olwë, Finwë, and Ingwë, but he did not know by what magic he recognized them, unless it was with knowledge buried within the depth of his fëa.

He still heard Círdan's singing, but it blended into the music of the Arda. He did not know how long he walked in this world, pure and new. Eventually, like a flower in the fall, the vision passed, and he walked again on the coast of Balar.

He glanced at Círdan, and realized he had stopped singing, and he seemed as distant as Elrond had been a moment ago. Elros, though, was paying no attention, kicking water into crab-holes and chasing the evicted creatures back into the surf.

"You saw it, Elrond?" Círdan said, apparently back from his wanderings.

"Yes. Was that--?" Elrond hesitated, suddenly unsure.

"Cuivienen? Yes. That is what I was singing of: those days when all the Firstborn awoke together by that mere, ere we split into Vanyar, Noldor, Teleri, and all the other divisions that now sunder us."

Elros piped up, "I did not understand the language. Wait--you were at Cuivienen?"

"Yes, my memory reaches back to the very first days of the Eldar. I was called Nowë then. That language is not spoken anymore. It is older than even the Quenya of Valinor. The Sindarin, Quenya, and Telerin which you speak all contain many words that come directly from the language of Cuivienen, but the pronunciation has changed them beyond recognition. The language is still preserved in a few songs though, such as I was singing."(2)

"Would you teach me the language sometime? And the songs too?" Elrond was awe-struck.

"I would gladly teach you the songs, Elrond, but I will not teach you the language. It is too close to my heart. Pengolodh may teach you, if you will learn it."

"The vision that I saw--did the song invoke it, then? And why didn't Elros see it?" Elrond asked, his mind working fast, endeavouring to comprehend both the new information about his mentor and the new experience.

"Yes, and no, to answer your first question." Círdan replied. "It was created by the song, but only partially. I also created it, the singer, and so did you, the hearer.(3) I saw a vision too, but it was different from yours, because it existed in my mind, and not in yours. Elros did not see it simply because he did not listen to the song."

"I think I saw one before, though, and 'Rond did, too--remember when Maglor sang about Helcaraxë, and he didn't know that we were listening? You lay in bed for two days and wouldn't even eat."

A shadow passed over Elrond's face. "I had forgotten, brother. But I think that happened a lot when Maglor sang. I thought they were just visions or waking dreams." He felt faint and queasy as the visions he had seen over his time in Maglor's clear flooded into his mind: Helcaraxë, the destruction of the Two Trees, banishment from Tirion, the fateful oath and the Doom of Mandos, Doriath, Dagor-nuin-Giliath, Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the burning of the ships at Losgar, Alqualondë...(4)

"Alas, child! They were not. The minstrel's gift seems to be strong in you. Maglor should have been more careful." He saw that Elrond had paled and brushed the back of his hand against his cheek. "The air and your distress has cooled you. Come, I'll take you back to the castle."


"Tauren! Meletyalda!"(5) Elrond sighed as the king turned toward the voice and stopped to talk for the fourteenth time this morning as he made the practice-field rounds.

"Quartermaster! Good morning. What can I do for you?" Gil-galad said as he held his hand out for his water skin, which Elrond quickly produced.

"We have a surplus of choice heavy leather, your majesty, and I was wondering whether it should be sent to the armory, granted the shadow..."

"Yes, Quartermaster, send it to the armory, but we do not speak of such things lightly by sunlight or starlight. The enemy's ears hear far."

"My apologies, my king. I will be more careful."

Gil-galad nodded. "How is the spinning of that new wool from east of the Sirion going?"

"The spinsters should have it finished by this Orgilion,(6) my king."

"Good, good." Gil-galad might have said more but Elrond hastily interrupted him.

"My Lord, my apologies, but Lord Inglorion awaits you," he said anxiously.

"I know, Elrond. I am sorry for rushing off, Quartermaster, but duty calls. Perhaps I shall stop by later to day."

"You have yourself a new keeper I see, aran-nin," the older Elf said with a chuckle. "I would not interfere with his duties."

Gil-galad smiled when Elrond frowned at the liberty the old quartermaster took. They had walked perhaps twenty meters before they heard another shout, "Aiya Tauren!" Gil-galad stopped again to heed the call cordially, and Elrond sighed in frustration.


Gil-galad had finally waded his way to Gildor Inglorion, and settled under a large ash tree to speak with him. Elrond sat down and pulled out the book he had brought. The sun was well past its zenith when Gil-galad ended his conversation with Gildor and spoke to Elrond.

"Elrond, this is Thelagon." He indicated an Elf who been listening to the conversation. "He is a captain in my army, and he shall be your master and tutor." Gil-galad informed him. Elrond peered up from his book at the tall, sandy-headed Elf, who was now assessing him. He closed his book and put it down. The gleam in the Elf's eye demanded his full attention.

"Suliad, Elrond. What is the book that you were so engrossed in?" Thelagon asked.

"It is a book about Bëor the Old, sir. When can I begin?"

The captain laughed. "You are certainly eager, child! That is good! But you will begin tomorrow morning.


Elrond walked out onto the training field clad in the blue tunic that Gil-galad had supplied him with this morning. Thelagon's sharp eyes spotted him before he reached the field and called out to him, "Earendilion! Come. Have you slept well?"

Elrond nodded, "I have, herdir."(7)

Thelagon smiled at him. "Good. You will need it. Now, I want you to run thrice around the field to warm up, and then report back."

Elrond returned several minutes later, his cheeks glowing from the effort. "All new recruits first learn to discipline their hroar with standing meditation. Stand with you feet shoulder-with apart. Good. Bend your knees slightly. No, not like that. Take the weight off of your heals and pretend you're sitting in a chair. Now, relax your hips."

Thelagon made adjustments and moved Elrond's arms into place as he spoke. "Pretend your holding a large ball between your arms. Don't let your wrists go flaccid, but don't tense them either. You should feel that your arms are supported. Let your shoulders float into place and lengthen your spine by extending your cervix upwards and your sacrum downwards. Good enough. You shall stand there for twenty minutes today. I will let you know when your time is up."

Twenty minutes later Elrond's legs and arms were trembling from the exertion, but he felt comfortably warm and energized. Thelagon next took him on a tour of the training facilities. When they came to the armoury he was fitted for practice armor. "When will I get my practice sword, herdir?" he asked.

"Soon, as we reckon it, if you are quick to learn the correct structure and movement, and how to fight unarmed."

Elrond swallowed a groan. "That means not for several years, doesn't it?"

Thelagon lauged. "You are a clever child. Yes, it is the way of the Noldor to teach the mind and body, before we teach swordsmanship. The king has asked that you be trained by this method."

"But my brother has already received his practice sword!" Thelagon raised his eyebrows at Elrond's outburst. "Sir," the younger quickly added.

"That is the prerogative of Lord Círdan. Your brother grows quickly like the firiath.(8) They grow at first quickly in body and slowly in mind. It is their way to train hands to swing swords that can barely hold one up. They lack the time for anything else."

"But, herdir, Elros is not mortal! He has as much Elvish blood as I do!" Elrond was quickly losing his control. Elros' sudden peculiarities scared him. Why was he suddenly so different? Elrond had an irrational fear that he was slipping away.

"There, there, child. You have no need to shout. You each are nearly half-human. It is not surprising that one of you should identify with your mortal ancestry. But nothing is decided yet! Do not fret."


Notes:

[1] I hate to put this in a footnote, but I don't know if it will make the story in a flashback yet. The Silmarilion, "The Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath" has the following text:

"Now when first Vingilot ws set to sail in the seas of heaven, it rose unlooked for, glittering and bright; and the people of Middle Earth beheld it from afar and wondered, and they took it for a sign, and called it Gil-Estel, the Star of High Hope. And when this new star was seen at evening, Maedhros spoke to Maglor, his brother, and he said: 'Surely that is a Silmaril that shines now in the West?'

"And Maglor answered: 'If it be truly the Silmaril which we saw cast into the sea that rises again by the power of the Valar, then let us be glad; for its glory is seen now by many, and is yet secure from all evil.' Then the Elves looked up, and despaired no longer, but Morgoth was filled with doubt."

I do not know what Maedhros truly called the Star, but Tancol is the only Quenya name that I know for it, besides Eärendil.

[2] It is unclear whether Cirdan awoke in Cuivienen. I have kept it unclear in merely suggesting that he was there. He was akin to Olwë and Elwë, and he may have been born in the 55 years between when the elves awoke and started on the Great Journey. The language, of course, would be what scholars term, "Primitive Elvish."

[3] Elf-minstrelsy is another one of those unsolved mysteries. In part five of Appendix A to LotR it is said of Aragorn,

"And suddenly even as he sang he saw a maiden fair walking on a greensward among the white stems of the birches, and he halted amazed, thinking that he had strayed into a dream, or else that he had received the gift of the Elf-minstrels, who can make the things of which they sing appear before the eyes of those who listen.

"For Aragorn had been singing a part of the Lay of Lúthien..."

The rest of my notion of this Art comes from Tolkien's essay and story, "Tree and Leaf." From this, I gathered that all Elves possess this ability and that mortals can be at the receiving end of the "visions" as well (and are sometimes even more susceptible). I plan to play with this more in my story.

[4]All are tragic events that Maglor has participated in or lived through.

[5] "Mighty Lord! Majesty!"

[6] "Starday"--The first day of the week and the day after the High Day. Since the elvish week had only six days, there's really no comparison for our week, but it's often compared to Saturday or Monday.

[7] Master, as in a male teacher or one who has charge of another.

[8] Mortals.

Continued...

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