Rating: R
Pairings: Elrond/group/ m/m, m/f.
Summary: Southern visitors to Rivendell bring news, old relationships shift and life moves into the Stirring Time of the year.
Feedback: Write me if you want to. I might even answer.
Notes: A long and packed one-just like we like them. Pop the popcorn or make that sandwich now before you start. (39 pages in 7 chapters) Usual flashbacks and friendships, uses books and movie as canon, plus embellishments.
Rivendell, in a time before the Great Ring's rediscovery...
Residents moved about their business in the cool mid-morning sunlight, crossing the paved courtyard in conversation and laughter. Rivendell was awakening from a long and wet winter, and Echuir, or the stirring time before spring, was welcomed in their hearts. Members of the Household Guards greeted friends as they passed briskly across the courtyard and headed for the stairs. They took the curving exterior stairway by twos and strode into the quiet study of the Master of the House.
Lindefal turned where he stood, dishes in hand, and Elrond looked up from his broad desk. He, Erestor and Lindefal had just shared a late breakfast as they discussed issues regarding the change of seasons. They had slept late in the oversized bed after a long and playful night together, and breakfast had been greeted with hearty appetites afterwards. Erestor tidied the stack of pages in his hands and rose to leave.
It was quiet in the settlement today, and the stirring time slowly awoke the community to preparations for the coming spring. Quiet peacefulness reigned in the valley as the stirring time burst forth with buds and new growth along the riverside. The winter storms had passed and long and short-range plans for repairs and building were under consideration. Their chain of thought had been broken by the arrival of the guards and the apology of the lieutenant as he gave a slight bow to the gathered figures.
"Begging your permission, Master, but the Border Guards send you important news. Aragorn and your sons are at the western Border Station now mounting fresh horses. They are bringing three outsiders to the house. We have dispatched a messenger to the greenhouses to gather a healer, as we understand there are injuries."
Elrond nodded and finished his cup of tea. If they were still at the plateau's edge he had some time before they managed the steep trail down into the valley and across the river to the house. He tied his hair back into the simple knot he favored on casual days. Lindefal groaned, but at least he had been able to get Elrond into decent leggings and a comfortable short tunic for the casual day around the house. Elrond wondered who was hurt, and how badly. Between the three of his own they had commendable survival skills and knew how to deal with emergencies in the wild. They spent more time in the trees and on horseback than they did in the chambers of home anymore. It could be the strangers who were injured, he would have to wait and see. He asked a few more questions but the Household Guards knew little. It was time for Aragorn and the twins to return from a lengthy patrol of the northern reaches. He wondered what news they brought today, and whom they had found that needed their help.
Lindefal held out the short quilted jacket as Elrond turned to slip it on and head out the door. Erestor left from the upstairs doorway to gather aides and needed materials before the arrival of the strangers. The guest quarters were empty now and ready for new comers. Elrond slowly wandered down the exterior stairs deep in speculation. The prospect of a poisoned Orc blade or arrow was always a threat to the patrols, and he gathered his knowledge and tidied his frame of mind to switch roles from Master of the House to healer. Crossing the paved courtyard just as the travelers mounted the arching bridge over the roaring Bruinen River, they watched as the group picked their way along the path upwards to the wide arch of the paved courtyard. His curiosity was aroused when he saw the rag-tag band gather in front of his eyes.
Elladan and Elrohir slid off their mounts and greeted their father with warm embraces. He did not mind their dirt covered clothes and smudged faces in this case. Splashed with mud and disheveled from living in the rough, they were in the usual state of those returning from extended border patrols. He was relieved to see they appeared unharmed. Aragorn gave him the slightest nod of respectful obedience, their relationship went deeper than foster father and beloved adopted son, and had the bizarre twists and turns that always surrounded legends. Elrond would hear the full story later from those reserved lips.
They were all pale and tired, gray with fatigue. The three strangers were wet and muddy, pale and blood smeared. The dark haired twins turned to help the strangers dismount with strong arms and careful hands. Aragorn caught the youngest as he fell to the side of his horse, his leg was injured and he was exhausted. Tall and lanky, this guest was on the verge of manhood, and the youngest of the lot as far as Elrond could tell at first glance. The others managed to dismount with some help, but they too were in bad shape. Galenbrethil hurried along the garden path and into the courtyard with students behind her and medical kits in hand. Elrond directed them all to the large Reception Hall nearby.
Erestor came along behind them with water, metal vessels, wine and spare clothing. His aides immediately started heating water and mulling the wine as they all settled near the fire. It was quickly built up to warm the air in the expansive hall. Elladan and Elrohir were busy informing their father of the events surrounding the rescue, and introducing everyone to everyone else in a chatter of news and information. Aragorn sat quietly nearby, hoping his presence would comfort the strangers in this overwhelming new environment. They were distinctly uneasy in the unfamiliar hall, and they were not expecting to be fussed over by Erestor and his assistants. Wet, cold, tired and completely overwhelmed by all they saw around them, they sat warily on the edge of their seats in front of the fireplace.
Elrohir explained that they had pulled these three scouts from the flood waters of the Bruinen as they struggled against the debris-strewn floodtide. Elladan introduced them as Talamir, Dorimal and Yanala, from a small settlement of Men in the south. Elrond shed his jacket as he listened and tied on the long loose apron Galenbrethil handed him. They washed their hands in bowls of warmed water with strong soaps as they listened. Cleanliness was always a first concern of esthetics in any Elven procedure. As Elrond gathered enough information to proceed he dismissed his tired twins with a wave to see to their own needs. He nodded to the Ranger, and asked Aragorn to meet with him later in the day. He read from Aragorn's cool gray eyes and grim features that the news was not good.
Elrond and Galenbrethil had quickly assessed their patients with careful observation as Erestor's aides wrapped them in woven blankets and handed them soft cloths and bowls of warm water. They washed their faces and hands and gathered their wits about them. Elrond stood deep in thought he gathered visual details. All three were battered and bruised, with bloody cuts and torn clothing, and they were soaked through and through, but they were able to sit up in their chairs and look around with curiosity also. The eldest of the siblings, and leader of the group, Talamir, looked warily at the aides and watched their activity with a bemused curiosity. Elrond thought they would not be good scouts if they were not intelligent and alert every moment. He appreciated their confusion and discomfort at their current situation.
They had been amazed as they had descended into the valley and saw the towers and rooftops of Rivendell glittering in the sunlight. They had no idea the valley was this extensive, and had only heard of Rivendell as a half-believed myth. They were still trying to comprehend their situation now as they sat in the towering and formal reception hall in front of a fireplace large enough to walk into. Obvious wealth and luxury surrounded them, and there was a definite lack of displayed arms and visible guards, though they suspected, correctly, that they were nearby somewhere.
Talamir looked around the long hall, at the large chairs arranged at one end on a low platform, and long tables along the walls. Tapestries and elegant fabrics draped the stonewalls and the long tables. War torn banners hung at the head of the hall over the tall chairs. Their brilliant colors had faded with time, and soot and fire had destroyed part of one. Galenbrethil always gave a shudder when she saw them, she knew ancient blood splashes were part of those dark stains, and that the fire damaged one had been dragged from the funeral pyre of Gil-galad.
Every time she saw it she remembered that horrible night on the plains of Dagorlad. Standing silently as the funeral pyre for the High King Gil-galad was lit in the late night, surrounded by low, lamenting songs and cries of grief, Elrond had awakened from his dazed stupor, and pulling away from her supporting arms, he had dashed forward and climbed the tall pile of timbers as they burned. Findalor ran after but was forced back as the flames licked the dry wood and shot sparking and crackling in the night. In the flickering lights and darks of the flames they saw Elrond speaking to the dead King, and then he grabbed the covering banner and leapt down from the pyre as the flames engulfed it completely.
He rose shakily from the ground and patted out the fire from the length of fabric in his hands. Standing apart, he watching the cleansing fire consume Gil-galad in the honorable way for a dead warrior to pass away from the physical world. He clung to the smoking banner as others came to stand beside him. Findalor and Galenbrethil stood closely beside him as the fire raged and finally died down in the darkness, but he stood in silent grief, he had said goodbye already. Cirgalad came with what ointments and medicines he had left after treating the wounded of the battle. Elrond never felt the burns on his hands and arms until the next day. They did not prevent him from swinging the heavy hammer at the walls of Barad-dur. Pale scars still marked his hands from those awful days long ago.
That banner hung in the place of honor now, in the dim light of the back wall. Others, older and important as well, hung around the crossed banners from the armies of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Beams of sunlight shot through the air from high windows. Talamir had not seen Findalor's Household Guards in the shadows of the gallery that ran above the main floor, watching and waiting, and they had failed to catch his slight nod upwards as he acknowledged them at their observation posts. This lack of flaunted power indicated supreme confidence in position and situation, and worried the threesome.
Tall and elegant, quiet figures stood before their guests attentive and observant. With dark hair and cool eyes, long limbs and slender hands and fingers, they were different indeed from sturdy men. Delicately pointed ears were seen among the flowing strands of hair. Coming from a small settlement in the south, the scouts had never had much to do with Elves themselves, and curiosity pricked them through their exhaustion. Vaguely a glow seemed to surround them as they stood silent, but Talamir decided it was a trick of the light and his tired eyes.
Aides with clucking tongues and concerned hands mothered the guests and warm wine was handed around to all. Galenbrethil had added a calming powder to the mix, and it would relieve their pain and discomfort as they were treated. Talamir had twisted his shoulder, and had injured his elbow and wrist in his tumble along the rocks in the river's rushing torrent. He was holding his arm close to his chest to ease the pain. Dorimal, the youngest, had a nasty gash across his forehead, and had limped into the hall with aid from Aragorn. Their sister, Yanala, had a dark bruise forming around her left eye, a bleeding gash across her collarbone and multiple cuts and scratches across her back and legs. She was wrapped in Elladan's camp blanket as her own clothing was in shreds. She explained she had become entangled in a submerged thorn tree's sharp and grasping branches as the river had swept her along with the flood tide.
Elladan had explained that the scouts had been patrolling for information for several months and had become lost in the incessant winter rains as they headed home. They had chosen the shallowest ford they could find in the river, but the long days of late winter rain had already swelled the current, and a sudden rush of water downstream had caught them unawares. Their horses were swept away and all that was left of their meager supplies and weapons were lost.
Seeking to struggle up the slippery banks of the flood-swollen river with little success, Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir had reached out with strong hands and pulled them one at a time from the raging waters. They provided food and blankets to the shivering scouts, and listened to their tale under the shelter of the trees. Aragorn determined that Elrond should hear the news they bore, and understood that that their injuries required expert care as well. As they were downstream from the more commonly used ford, they mounted the injured on their horses and struck across the rise to the ford, and one of the well-guarded paths into the valley. The Border Guards provided fresh horses for everyone at the watch post, and sent word ahead by a runner.
Elrond smiled at them with his best bedside manner, and introduced everyone in the room. He asked permission to treat their injuries; he knew they had delayed long enough already. His care and concern relieved their suspicions somewhat, and what were they to do otherwise? They could barely move from exhaustion. The utmost courtesy and gentleness was used in all their actions as Elrond, Galenbrethil and the students shooed Erestor and his aides out of the way. They slowly and carefully removed the wet and shredded clothing from the injured guests, and cleaned and treated their many wounds. Elrond determined they would be sore indeed in the morning, and knew they were lucky to be alive after hearing more of their story. Quiet voices explained every procedure to calm the wary patients, and slowly their wounds were cleaned, treated and bandaged.
Galenbrethil saw to Yanala, a few deep cuts required special attention. Elrond gently tested the range of motion in Talamir's shoulder and elbow, and cleaned the blood away from cuts on his face and arms. The medical students fussed over the youngest with calming words and sure hands. Dorimal's knee had been twisted in the struggle to gain the bank of the river and was still painful now.
Elrond knew it was a wonder they were not caught up in the flood debris and drowned in the current. The Bruinen was a mighty river when raised. It was one of the natural guardians of the valley, and could be raised on command by those with the right skills, or with the aid of Vilya. Late winter and early spring was a dangerous time along its steep and flooding banks.
Resigned to their situation, the scouts warmed themselves by the fire and combed their hair, or allowed it to be combed, with inlaid silver combs, gifts from the Master of the House. They began to look like civilized living beings again. Yanala's hair had amazingly stayed tightly bound within the woven net cap she wore, and it tumbled out into Erestor's hands in long wet auburn waves. He combed it with great care and left it loose around her shoulders.
With a few sips of mulled wine, faces washed, hair combed, and their wounds bandaged, they revived somewhat, and were warming up after days spent out in the cold and torrential rain. Responding to the savory smells they felt like eating some of the thick soup and fresh bread Erestor had brought for them. Afterwards, the exhausted guests were helped to the guest wing and put to bed. Elrond compared notes with his colleagues about the injuries and treatment plans, and they adjourned for other business of the day. Assorted tasks kept Elrond busy and moving from place to place until late afternoon, when he climbed the stairs to his study and collapsed at his desk.
Aragorn climbed the exterior stairs to the study in the slanting light of the late afternoon. He too had been transformed into a civilized being via the magic of a bath and fresh clothing. He was attired in suitably rich robes as a member of Elrond's extended family, and he carried a large book in his hands to return to the library shelves. He was waved over to the large desk, and he and Elrond sat and spoke long of the strangers, the events of their rescue and the findings of the recent patrol.
Elladan and Elrohir wandered in and added their observations. They described the surprise and destruction of the band of Orcs that had been raiding along the road at a particularly dangerous patch of forest and stony outcroppings. Grim eyes and drawn faces sat in a circle and pondered the meanings of what they had learned. Elrond wondered when Gandalf might pass their way again. Respectful of each other, Gandalf and Elrond had a mutually beneficial relationship, but it was one that teased and stretched their patience sometimes.
Elrond was curious to hear from the strangers themselves, and learn more details from their experiences. They looked up as the evening bells called them all to dinner, and with sighs they rose and washed hands and faces, and made themselves ready for the communal dining hall. Heading down the winding staircase Findalor and Elrohir descended ahead of the group and exchanged words and nudges that brought a smile to Elrohir's face. Elrond laid an arm across Elladan's shoulders and made a light remark as he drew him close for a quick hug. Thankfulness still flooded him that his sons were unharmed. The loss of one of his children was an unbearable idea, and his sons dared their fates constantly by patrolling as often as they did. Even the thoughts of a savory meal in good company could not raise their spirits much.
Elrond stood on a high balcony after dinner and enjoyed the sparkling rainbows in the mist of the waterfalls rise high into the cooling air. He watched Findalor stop and speak to the evening patrol, and then head up the path to the arching bridge that led to the greenhouses. He had spent many nights there over the winter and Elrond wondered when Galenbrethil would come to see him to reveal her heart, he wondered when they might wed. After all these years they had discovered that were completed by each other's presence. Couples tended to marry late in the lenient atmosphere of Rivendell. Already their auras reflected an advanced level of affection to those sensitive enough to note the change.
It had been some time since either, or both had graced his bed; it had been a long and cold winter full of dark memories and sleepless nights. More often than ever he had awakened in the early morning in the kitchen pantry, or a bench along the upper balconies over looking the waterfalls. Findalor's House Guards had reported this behavior, but Findalor was challenged to stop it, especially when a warm bed and soft arms called his heart. Elrond leaned on the railing and looked at the stars through scudding clouds. The evening breeze lifted his hair in waving locks and he was lost in time.
Stirring after a long contemplation, he descended a level and wound around corridors with slow steps. He was headed to the guest quarters to check on the strangers there. As he entered the long hallway he was greeted by the Hall Stewards, who indicated all was quiet there. Their meals lay nearly finished along the central table. Elrond waved them back to finish and stepped to the doorway of the largest room.
As he looked in on the three figures they were all quietly asleep after the exhaustion of their ordeal and after months of living in the rough. They never knew he stood over their beds like an anxious father checking on sick children. He thought their color was improving and their breathing was even and deep. He gently felt for fevers and brushed strands of hair back from their faces as they stirred but did not waken. Well aware of their race, he tucked the blankets gently around their shoulders.
As mortals they would feel the drafts in the lofty chambers more severely than the Elven residents did. It would not do for them to get sniffles too, they were already weakened by the months of meager diet and exposure, and susceptible to illness now. Talamir stirred and turned to his side, but did not awaken, and Elrond tucked in the blanket again where it had fallen away from his shoulder. He noticed the color had come back into his cheeks under the tanned skin, and saw a scar across his temple. Talamir showed real promise as a leader and Elrond suspected other secrets ran deep within him. He added a few blocks of sweetly fragrant wood to the fire to keep it going. The Hall Stewards observed his actions and nodded as he left, they were keeping a close watch on the strangers during their first night as guests.
Glorfindel caught up with him along a long corridor as he walked back to his study. Lindefal was waiting there and Elrond wished him goodnight in dismissal as he poured 2 glasses of wine. Bowing gracefully with a sigh, Lindefal left. Sitting near the fire they discussed the news of increasing attacks by the bands of raiders from the south and the ever-growing numbers of Orcs seen along the roadways. Traders were reconsidering their trips to the northern region in light of these raids, and Elrond set his Border Patrols ever wider to gather more information. Their numbers were increased as well. Trade parties were glad to have Elven archers escort them along the forested paths, a here to fore unknown luxury for them unless they were headed to Rivendell itself.
Glorfindel was leaving tomorrow for Lorien, and Elrond valued his counsel while he was in Rivendell. Sitting in conversation late into the night, they shared glasses of wine and information in the dim light of the candles and the dying fire. Glorfindel would take word to Celeborn of the news in the north, and return with information from that region in a few weeks. He acknowledged that he had packed the bundles of gifts for Arwen. Elrond handed him a small embroidered bag for her as well, and with a raised eyebrow he asked permission to peek inside. A delicate Mithril ring lay wrapped in silks, it took the shape of finely entwined leaves that flashed and caught the light. Glorfindel carefully sealed the bag and placed it inside his tunic for safekeeping. He rose to leave and laid a hand on Elrond's shoulder. He gave it a quick squeeze of affection and understanding. Elrond sat long by the fire after Glorfindel left, turning recent events in his mind. He was restless in the night and slept little. Dark shadows clouded his dreams.
The next day dawned cool and misty. Lindefal had no pressing business on the schedule and he dressed Elrond warmly in layers of robes for a lazy day around the house. Dressed in the soft silken trousers that went under the long robes, Lindefal had followed him around the room with a robe in hand, until he finally grabbed a shoulder and stopped him long enough to don the robe. He had been dismissed early last night, and he thought the dark circles under the gray eyes could tell a tale, but he was efficient and silent as he held the outermost robe to be put on. He quickly created a simple plait in the long dark hair and tied it off with a leather thong before Elrond could tie it back in a knot.
A wisp of hair worked its way free and fell forward to annoy Elrond before he even rose from the chair. He looked at it in annoyance as it curled around his face in some unfelt breeze. Trying to ignore it for the most part, it tickled his cheek. He had given up fighting his hair years ago. He felt in his heart that it plotted to torment him with tickles and snarls. It was handy to tease his lovers with, and they seemed to be entranced by it, so he had formed an uneasy truce with the heavy black mass trailing down his back. He had no doubt it would betray him in a wink.
Sometimes he wished for the many tight braids pulled back and knotted that had been his fashion at the Grey Havens, at least that arrangement had kept it out of his face for the better part of the day. He had once asked the twins about their hair and they looked at him with raised eyebrows and smiles. He noticed their dark strands lay neat and calm and obediently across their shoulders. Dark strands of his own hair rose in the breeze and wafted around his eyes as he spoke. They smiled as he brushed it aside, everyone knew Elrond's infamous hair had a life of its own, "No, only your hair does this, father," they said together laughing. "Only you have this problem!"
Lindefal pushed back the errant wisp and added a simple silver circlet to complete the attire of the Master of the House. While most knew who Elrond was and his position in the community, Lindefal always felt a token of his role was appropriate. "We have guests in the house you know," he added as Elrond shook his head and smiled. They enjoyed breakfast while Lindefal filled him in on what was happening around the community today. Life was still slow and easy coming out of winter's chill. Elrond descended the interior stairs to the library hall and headed out to the winding corridor that would lead him to the guest wing to see to the newcomers. Arriving in the long hallway he checked with the Hall Stewards. The guests had passed a quiet night, and had eaten two breakfasts each this morning.
Upon discovering that they were brothers and sister, Erestor decided to place them together at first for their own comfort and a feeling of security. Other arrangements would be easy to manage later in the empty guest wing of the house. Entering the largest room with multiple beds and a sitting area, he greeted Erestor and Aragorn, who were seated between the line of five oversize beds, visiting with the guests. Indeed, as he had known they would be, the scouts were stiff and achy this morning.
They were also amazed to be alive and to awaken in the height of luxury in the elegant guest rooms of Rivendell. They thought they must dreaming and that the flooded river and rescue had just been a bad dream. High ceilings with decorated beams, large windows and heated tiled floors were their surroundings now, and a crackling fire in the fireplace had greeted their sleepy eyes that morning. They had awakened to a gentle touch on their shoulders, accompanied by the rich smells of sausages, eggs, fresh bread, cheese and other treats they had long since done without for months while on patrol. They tackled the steaming food with relish and true pleasure.
Oversized beds with billowy linens and piles of pillows were a luxury they had not expected to find on this mission. The sight of the large bathing basin, and the idea of running hot water had amazed them. The luxuriant indoor toilet facilities were a real fascination, and Erestor had explained exactly how everything worked for them as they creaked and limped on the tour of their room before retiring yesterday. They had slept yesterday afternoon and the entire night away after their rescue. Awaking hungry, they made short work of the hearty breakfasts presented to them this morning. He fussed over them as they ate, plumping pillows and serving seconds and thirds. Erestor always liked feeding appreciative diners.
The night of sound sleep in soft linens and cozy beds, and a good meal, had lightened their spirits. Yanala appreciated the soft finish of her bed linens and stroked the sleeves of her skillfully woven gown. Elrond asked them how they felt, and tried to check the state of their health, but they asked question after question. He finally pulled a chair around, sat down, and explained where they were, how welcome they were, and how they had no worries as guests in his house. More questions were sparked by his comments, and finally they accepted the idea that the news they brought of the outside world would more than pay for their care and board at Rivendell.
They were soldiers and accustomed to being accountable for their needs and actions, and he could understand that. He also knew that they could participate in the household chores with the others and feel relieved of debt. Erestor and the twins could assume the task of keeping them busy as they recovered. This new project would also keep his sons close to home for a change. He wished to hear more of their thoughts about what they seen on this most recent foray out into the wilderness anyway. While he would always see them through the eyes of a father, he did respect their military skills and experienced prowess, and trusted their sharp eyes and intelligent conclusions. They had had enough experience in the world to make them acute observers. They were his eyes in the wilderness. But he also enjoyed knowing they were nearby at home as well.
Erestor was explaining the rounds of household chores to the guests and they nodded in comprehension and acceptance of the new responsibilities. Elrond smiled at this, and remarked, "After, of course, your healers release you to move about the house." He rose to change their bandages with the skillful hands of a healer, and the care of a concerned host. The wooden chest of medicines sat open on the table and he carefully selected the correct powders and lotions for their needs. His confident and gentle manner put them at ease as he asked about specific ailments and injuries.
He felt for fevers and checked pulses and eyes. Everyone flinched at some touch here or there, but all in all they were remarkably lucky to have survived. Yanala's sutures looked clean and he was careful to apply a soothing cream around them as he tsk-tsked the damage. He carefully checked the cut across her collarbone, smiling at the dash of freckles there. Her bruises were blossoming into dark smudges against her pale skin. Gentle fingers spread soothing creams along her wounds.
He advised Erestor to meet any and all of their needs while they were resident at Rivendell, and offered Aragorn and his sons as a fountain of information for any questions they thought of. All guests housed under Elrond's roof were treated as family. His pantries were loaded, the bread ovens hot and full, and the breweries productive, and his heart was large enough to embrace all comers. To be within the favor of the Master of Rivendell was to know no want.
He plumped their pillows and sat them back in their beds, and seated himself nearby in preparation to listen to their tale. Findalor, Elladan and Elrohir came by to check on the guests, and they pulled chairs around to hear the tale as well. Aragorn settled back with hands folded in his lap and legs outstretched to listen. Erestor gathered dishes and trays quietly and leaned on another bed to listen as well.
Trusting their fates to the silent figures seated before them, and sensing they had their undivided attention, Talamir began to tell their tale. They had started on a scouting mission in the autumn months, sent by the citizens of their town to the northern regions to investigate the environment there. Warnings of disturbances in the south were increasing and rumors of Orc raiding parties and roving bands of outlaws also in the north had come to them via traders. They had tracked several parties of Orcs, and been attacked themselves at one point, escaping only due to the speed of their hearty horses. They had met a band of traders who had been attacked as well, and who had suffered losses of merchandise and the deaths of some of their party in an attack by bandits.
Aragorn explained that the Rangers had noted their passing, and monitored their travels, but had lost them at one point after the attack of the Orcs. They were feared killed. The harsh winter did not diminish the patrolling forces, but the raiders had retreated from the snowy weather along the plateau and further northwards. The foothills of the Misty Mountains were not friendly to travelers of any stripe in the cold of winter.
Aragorn and the twins were keeping watch for their trail as they roamed the stretches on their way home, and had tracked them to the river bank as the flood waters from the rain upstream crashed down the narrow channel. Too far away to stop them from entering the river, they watched as the trio was swept away by the flood tide. Traveling along the banks at a run, they took the opportunity to reach out and grab them as they struggled to climb the muddy and steep banks at a turn in the river as the water tore at them in torrents.
Each one was shouting over the roar of the flood for the others to be rescued first and Talamir and Yanala were trying to push Dorimal up the slippery and steep bank. Aragorn and the twins finally were able to catch hold of soaking garments and dragged them one at a time from the swelling flood crest. Branches, silt and rocks rolled along in the floodwaters, indeed entire trees had been uprooted and tumbled along the deep channel. Shredded by sharp branches, Yanala's clothing became entangled in a submerged thorn tree, and she was caught gasping as the floodwaters surged around her. Sharp thorns had torn her flesh as she was caught in their tangled grasp. Tearing fabric allowed her to escape before she drowned.
They had caught their breath under the trees and listened to Aragorn and the twins introduce themselves and explain who they were. Shaken, and suffering from exposure and near drowning, they agreed to seek shelter with these three rough and tumble looking strangers, ones who had saved them from death in the river, and who now fed and warmed them with blankets and a fire. Sometimes strangers could become well-met friends in the wilds. Their reports of the raiding parties and narrow escape from the Orcs fell on particularly attentive ears. Aragorn reported to them now that that particular group of evildoers would bother no one else thanks to the swift arrows of Elladan and Elrohir.
Elrond and Aragorn exchanged knowing looks at some points in the story and asked specific questions as to locations and other details. Findalor nodded and kept exact mental notes of their information. The twins filled in details from their experiences as well. Elrond pursed his lips and nibbled a finger as he heard news from the southern reaches. Trade had been slow this winter and information scarce from the south. Even Gandalf had had nothing new to share on his most recent visit. He had rested in his rooms and poured over dusty books in the library, more evasive and mysterious than ever.
They all saw a gathering storm in the world, but appreciated the growing darkness with different levels of understanding. Aragorn looked grave and Elrond and Findalor fell silent, deep within their own thoughts. But Erestor took the opportunity to start the bath water for the first round of hot soaks. The scouts began to accept they might be safe here, and understood they were guests of those who also watched for enemies and protected the home front.
They fell into a routine of sorts revolving around rest, the treatment of their wounds, and slow and careful exercise in short walks around the house. They choose to stay together in the large guest room, and wondered at its luxury when they were alone, looking into cupboards, feeling the warmed tile floor, and admiring the carved beams that stretched far above their heads. They enjoyed the soft woven garments that were provided for them, and they had ample choices to make from boots and shoes and belts. Yanala sat on the balcony outside the tall windows every evening and watched the setting sun as the bells tolled the end of the day. The elegance and luxury reminded them of a safe and pampered childhood, long left behind them now.
Enjoying time spent home and with their father, the twins accepted their new assignment of house duty with good natures. They adopted the healing guests with gusto, showing them portions of the Great House and the rest of the settlement as they became able walk about and take things in. The brothers bonded with Elrond's sons, who picked their brains dry with questions about life in the south, and the customs of men. Clear and sunny spring days allowed them to be outdoors in the glades and gardens, and to walk along the river paths. Elladan and Elrohir introduced the shy brothers to maidens in the settlement, and they suffered, though willingly, being he center of attention on a sunny afternoon.
Talamir had come down a long corridor and around a corner one morning and he stopped to look out into the paved courtyard below. He wondered how long it had been since they had staggered in through those gates wounded and weary. Noting its high walls and heavy wooden doors, he realized they were useful for defense if needed, however they were now thrown open and braced back. He saw the walls would offer good protection in need, but today they seemed to simply embrace the courtyard as vines across the stony surface turned green again in the warming days.
Voices and cracking sounds in a corner caught his attention. Several individuals were involved in cutting wood and stacking it in long ricks along the wall near the stairway. He leaned on the railing and watched. The mechanics of how the sprawling household operated so smoothly fascinated him.
The whack and thump of an ax into logs echoed around the courtyard. The ax man paused as others gathered up the considerable pile of split logs and stacked them in an interlocking pattern to dry. Squinting into the misty morning air he noticed it was Elrond splitting wood today, and he watched with interest as the tall figure removed his gloves and pulled off his tunic, tossing it aside onto a bench nearby. He brushed back his hair with both hands and made a remark that brought laughter from the others. Reaching outwards and back in a lazy stretch, he was perfectly at home with the physical labor and easy camaraderie with the others. Elrond pulled on the heavy gloves again and responded to remarks from the others, causing another round of laughter and joking. His dark hair swung across the broad shoulders in long braids.
Talamir wondered at this easy relationship and informal manner of government as he took in the lean frame and rippling muscles. Who would guess that the Master of Imladris would stand half-clothed in the morning light splitting logs for the many fireplaces of the Great House? Wonder upon wonder in Rivendell had made him accept that anything was possible here.
He watched intently as the ax rose in the air and fell exactly on target, splitting the log into neat halves. It rose again and again in perfect rhythm, and he reminded himself to never underestimate strength by size. The lean and lithe figure, who he had pegged as an administrator and healer, now was revealed as elegantly graceful and amazingly strong as muscles rippled in the repeated flowing actions. He watched as Elrond leaned over and pitched the split halves into a pile closer to the ricks. Every move was efficient and graceful. He heard his name called out as the others noticed him and beckoned him to join them. He descended the stairs with curiosity.
Elrond turned to greet him as well, flushed from his labors. He wiped a smudge of dirt across his face from his heavy glove as he smiled and turned back to continue. Talamir noticed the strange puckered scar on his shoulder, and wondered what horrible injury had caused it. He noted other pale stripes here and there along the lean sides and on the arms as well. Of course someone with many years experience on the battlefields of history would bear scars. His mind raced through his scanty knowledge of battles in the history of the world, and he remembered the war banners in the reception hall. A huge new appreciation of his host dawned on him as he moved to help the others, well away from the cutting.
As Talamir started to help stack the split logs Elrond warned him to take care with his shoulder, as it was still not healed completely. Tinges of pain kept him from overdoing already, but he thanked his healer for the advice. He stepped back with the others and watched from this vantage point as Elrond swung away again with precision and power in the strokes. The logs split perfectly each time, as if they wanted to please him.
Muscles rippled and flowed beneath pale skin as the blows fell, and Talamir was entranced by the repeated actions. The unique mixture of warrior and scholar in Elrond kept his interest in fitness active, and between riding, swimming, sword practice and physical tasks around the Great House, he managed to stay supple and strong. Embracing peace with all his heart, he was proud of his ability to wield a sword with grace, and he rode to win in horse races. Being limber and supple also allowed interesting combinations in bed or along the grassy banks of the river. Stamina served more than the warrior spirit in Elrond.
He enjoyed the extra company this morning as he worked his household duty off for the day. The rhythmic whack and spilt of the logs was physical reality he could understand and enjoy for its simplicity. Splitting logs had been one of his chores as a fosterling at the Court of Maglor, and he had perfected his method with years of practice.
Over the following days Elrond saw the rose come back into the guest's cheeks and was gratified as the gaunt and haunted looks faded as some weight filled them out again. Rest and care brought them back to health and well-being. Shy at dinner at first, they became accustomed to being watched and questioned by interested diners around them. The open flirtation and sensuality among the residents was foreign to them, and the overly friendly servers were a shock, but they chose to go with the flow and observe the situation without remark or judgment. Aragorn explained some things to them about Elven life, and the twins answered franker questions the brothers had in a long walk along the river.
Yanala observed carefully and learned what was acceptable, and Galenbrethil answered questions she had about customs and appropriate behavior in Rivendell. Lindefal was all too eager to visit with her in the library and make suggestions and recommendations to her. Yanala found herself wandering the stairs and corridors in wonder at the sprawling settlement that was their temporary home. She would turn and find herself along a familiar hallway one time, then turn and see a whole new vista the next. She wondered if the house did not rearrange itself to puzzle her as she turned a new corner and determined she was lost again. Views from the stacked balconies and hanging gardens stopped her at every turn as she looked out in wonder at the waterfalls and steep valley sides.
Galenbrethil had not overtly noticed that Elrond took a deep interest in Yanala's wounded throat and the gashes across her back, and that he had applied the medicinal creams exceptionally slowly and gently in his care of her. She saw these things with a sidelong glance. She wondered if he noticed these actions himself. He had soothed the tension away one day with a brief neck massage, and Yanala had leaned back into him relief. Her appreciation of his touch was more than the easing of tired shoulders. Galenbrethil saw more to come between them, even if he did not at this point.
She was reminded of Celebrian's injuries as she saw the deep and ragged cuts across Yanala's pale skin the morning they arrived. She guessed from his attitude and demeanor that Elrond considered her an individual and not a memory. Yet he did also extend the gentlest care to the brothers as well in his treatment of their injuries. New faces in the house provided interest and novelty in the stirring time before warmer spring days, she wondered if they would ease the lonely nights as well.
Talamir spent many hours in the stables with the wonderful tall and elegant Elven horses, and was beside himself with joy when he went riding just for fun one clear morning with Elrond's sons. He had cabin fever from being restricted to the house as his wounds healed. He was still grasping the fact that the twins had also ridden with Aragorn's father, when they seemed so close in behavior and appearance to his own age. Aragorn was grim and silent for the most part, and was another curiosity to him in the odd world of Imladris, where nothing was as it seemed. Talamir chose not to think too closely about the age of their host, and all he had seen and done in the world. The overlapping worlds of Elves and Men were a mystery to him still. All he knew of Elves were the few things Gandalf had mentioned to him in passing. He was rapidly learning more about them first hand.
Talamir had a real affinity for the elegant Elven horses and a good working knowledge of their care and pampering. He regretted the loss of their sturdy southern horses in the flood, so different from the long legged and lively Elven horses. Elrond assigned him a horse for his own use while there, and he rode daily when the weather permitted. His shoulder remained stiff but improved slowly. He fussed with the sling provided but it did relieve the pain when he overdid.
Dorimal waited with impatience until his injured leg improved enough for him to join them along the trails. Adopted by the grooms, this youngest guest was spoiled by them in an atmosphere of leather and harness, straw and hay. The large and shaggy wolfhounds that also lived in the stables followed him wherever he went around the settlement. He was surprised to find they had the run of the house and napped in many corners where there were Elves for company. His favorite brindle coated hound could generally be found under Elrond's desk asleep on the warm tile floor when he was not nosing a pocket for a treat. The dogs were everywhere and accepted as part of life, with an absent minded pat now and then. Dorimal became accustomed to having a wiry haired head under each hand, and their intelligent eyes watching his every move.
The routine of the house and the relief from days of constant surveillance was refreshing for him. Their patrol had been extended and hard in the winter months, and the warmth and comfort of the stables was welcome. He grew to know all the names and personalities of the horses housed in there. The twins teased him as he favored the brown eyes and dappled arching neck of Elrond's favorite mount, and he always greeted this intelligent animal with gentle scratches around the ears and kisses on the soft nose.
His first day out riding was aboard this gray giant, who moved as carefully and gracefully as imaginable on the gently sloping paths around the stables. Elrond stood leaning, chin on crossed arms, on the high fence next to Talamir. He placed a foot on a lower railing, subtly moving closer to Talamir in the shift. They watched as the younger brother rode in slow circles around the paddock in complete joy. Relenting to Dorimal's un-ending pleas, Elrond had finally consented to a brief ride. The mounting had been accompanied by winces due to the stiff knee, but the excitement of being outside and astride overcame the pain. Elrond gave him a pat on the leg after he hoisted him up into the saddle, and he spoke a few words into the expressive ears as the horse shook its shaggy mane into place.
No one had ever enjoyed those few rounds around the stable yard as had Dorimal. Elrond's fatherly instincts were richly rewarded by the enjoyment and obvious pleasure of the youth. He also enjoyed watching the elegant animal as it went through its paces, he had never lost his deep love for horses, and this one was a carefully bred descendant of the string of racehorses he brought with him from the Gray Havens so long ago. Its size and spirit were the results of good pasturage and breeding for intelligence, strength and agility. There was nothing like unlimited time to refine a bloodline. Asfaloth, its twin, was Arwen's favorite mount. Carefully kept studbooks formed a sizeable part of the library holdings. This gray giant was the jewel in the crown of the stables. He was poetry in fluid motion.
Taking advantage of this quiet time alone, Talamir thanked him sincerely for his care of them while they were in his house. Elrond turned and laid his head on his arms smiling back. Bleached light by the sun, Talamir's hair lifted in a breeze and his deep brown eyes were fascinating to Elrond. His steady gaze took in many details, a scar across the chin, the sunburned cheeks and weathered skin, a curl that brushed across his forehead. Wise from experience, but looking older than he was, Elrond was intrigued by the life story of this son of Men, and wanted to know more. His eyes had flecks of gold that flashed in the sunlight as it fell across his face in the late afternoon.
Elrond liked the brown eyes of mortals, the variety of shades were a wonder, unlike the clear gray so common among Elves. He thought the strong and sturdy features of the race of Men more than made up for their lack of psychic abilities. Talamir looked back at the ageless figure before him, frozen in indecision. They stood comfortably side-by-side, perhaps too close, perhaps not. He was uncomfortable in the gaze, yet did not look away.
He thought he saw in the calm gray eyes looking at him the knowledge of a thousand nights of pleasure, and a million days of grief. Wisdom and understanding wrapped the quiet figure next to him, and he felt a strange feeling of acceptance, maybe even affection, when he was this close to Elrond. He had noticed each Elf in Rivendell had a particular "feel" about them, and he meant to ask Aragorn about this. He thought this was better a mortal-to-mortal question.
Elrond's dark hair glimmered in the fading sunlight as it hung loosely across his broad shoulders. Long strands stirred in the breeze as he turned to watch Dorimal ride past again. Talamir thought it was odd the way the waving strands brushed his cheek and lifted and turned in the softly moving air. It was as if the strands sought to embrace the quiet features, and to tease his face with gentle caresses. Talamir looked at the noble profile as the chin rested on slender fingers atop the wooden railing. Unsettled at how he felt, he also looked back at Dorimal and made a remark about the ride. As ambassadors for the community, the horses won the guests over as die hard supporters of the refuge and all it stood for. Elrond continued to watch, chin on arms, hip to hip with Talamir. He was winning a few new fans as well.
Yanala acquiesced to Lindefal's suggestions and wore gowns for meals in the dining hall at night, but she preferred soft leggings and a tunic for her daytime attire. She enjoyed visiting the horses in the stables also, but was truly fascinated by the Library Hall. She demonstrated a breadth of knowledge that surprised Elrond, not all her time had been spent on missions into the wild it seemed.
He became aware of her one afternoon in the library as she stood back and watched over his shoulder while he was at work copying a manuscript page. As she moved for a better view she accidentally blocked his light. Turning, he beckoned her nearer, and she asked about his technique and the materials he used. She noted that the pages seemed to be for an herbal, and she recited from memory the uses for the willow branch and leaves in the small illustration on the page he was working on. She pointed to a drying page nearby illustrating sage with a smile and drew her hand back from the illustration of the oleander, whispering, "poisonous." His appreciation for her broad knowledge increased dramatically, she was not just reading the descriptions. The text was in the flowing Sindarin script, which she did not recognize. She asked to hear it read aloud and smiled at the melodious sounds of the language. The image of the plants formed in her mind as he spoke, and their natures were revealed through the sounds of the words. Thus was she introduced to the mystical language she had already heard spoken around her while staying there. In fact she was surprised that so many residents spoke the Common Tongue so well.
She had studied plant lore as a child, and had assisted healers in the nearby city in the distillation of medications. She retained an encyclopedic memory of plant uses in the southern regions. It was agreed she would assist in the library during her stay there, by making notes of all the uses she could remember, starting with the most uncommon plants she knew. Her sample sketches were clear and recognizable, and her strong script was clear and legible. Her concentration and productivity were inspiring as she spent hours near the large open windows of the Library Hall filling page after page with notes. She walked through the greenhouses with Elrond in wonder, and recited names and usages one after another as she brushed the fronds and leaves with loving fingers.
Galenbrethil watched them move among the plants deep in conversation, shoulder-to-shoulder and cheek-to-cheek as they examined this seedpod or that blossom together. She had been busy in the greenhouses this winter and had not made it up the house very often. She thought to herself wryly any evening venture up the long staircase to the study now might be a waste of time for the next few weeks. Anyway, Findalor found her more often than not anymore late in the evening. He came by with a snack or a gift of sorts, and left her bed in the early hours before dawn for duty. His easy company was a comfort and a joy to her; it was as if she had suddenly met him after centuries of acquaintance. Together they watched over the Master of the House, and they thought it had been a relatively calm winter, even though racked with storms. They were unaware of the dark dreams that haunted Elrond as they lay entwined in the greenhouse chambers. Such was the lot of those who loved and those who lost.
Yanala asked about a small moss she was not familiar with, and cupped it between her hands for a whiff of its delicate fragrance. Elrond smiled at her and she felt an odd sensation of acceptance and affection. She had noticed feelings like this already from Lindefal and others, and wondered what element of Elvishness this might be. She made a mental note to ask Galenbrethil next time they were alone.
As he watched her admire the extensive botanical collection stretching along the aisles, he was stricken once again with wonder at the strange and complex creatures that were the race of Men. They never ceased to amaze Elrond, combining the deepest appreciation for art and beauty with the roughest natures, and within their short lifetimes they could accomplish much that was both terrible and beautiful. To find this depth of knowledge in this daughter of Men trained as a soldier was a juxtaposition that intrigued him. Her large brown eyes were intelligent and her oval face was becoming beneath the cuts and bruises that were fading slowly.
Her auburn hair glinted sparks of red, and she wore it down for dinner, having noted the fashion around her for flowing locks. She had furtively watched Elrond's hair one night when he turned to speak with Talamir as a new round of dishes passed by them. A breeze from the open door brushed her cheek, and lifted a lock of his hair in a sinuous curl to creep across his shoulder and wrap around his neck. He absently brushed it back with slender fingers. She caught herself staring in fascination as it curled on itself again and crept back around his neck. Lindefal leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Everyone is mesmerized by Elrond's hair but him. Isn't it just amazing?' As she turned to listen to his remark, she brushed back a strand of her own hair as it fell forward. During the day her long curls disappeared into the tight net cap that held it close to her head appropriately for a scout in the wild. Old habits were hard to break.
In conversation late one evening Elrond realized that the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks made her appear to be younger than she truly was. Lindefal had told him she had lost her betrothed to bandits before they wed. He wondered how she came to be a soldier. She was knowledgeable about the affairs of Men, and was somewhat conversant with the historical tales of her people, but she still struggled to understand she had stumbled into the world of legend. She had also determined that everything they saw in Imladris was not as it seemed in their mortal perceptions. She too could not grasp the real age of their host, and only the sad wisdom in his gray eyes made her believe the possibility it was true.
Elrond enjoyed their conversations about medicinal uses for plants and the distillation of desired properties, and he actually learned some new medications from her. Her perspective on them from a mortal point of view opened his eyes to a different way of thinking about some of the familiar plants he used often. One evening as they sat in tall chairs side by side before the fire in his study, he had laid a warm hand over hers, and stroked her fingers softly as she spoke. She allowed the touch and curled her fingers into his. The heady mead had eased her shyness somewhat as she spoke of her childhood and training with healers in the distillation of medicines.
She leaned towards him to hear his questions and looked into his clear gray eyes as they reflected the firelight. He whispered long into her ear and she laughed. Lindefal was watching from the loft as she moved closer, and her laughter rose upwards in the calm air. Elrond's soft voice was not carrying well tonight, but his remarks brought another smile to her face.
Lindefal wondered what attraction a mortal female could possibly have; they had course skin, wiry hair and dark eyes, all things he found distasteful. They could be sickly and felt the weather's slightest changes. And the barren joining just could not be satisfying. He preferred the comfort of psychic feedback to guide his touch and signal the desires of the partner or partners. He thought joining with a mortal would be very much like making love completely clothed, what was the point? Deciding there was nothing too exciting going on here, he checked the bedchamber once more with a smile as he saw the treat he had provided, and he left through the upper door.
As Elrond and Yanala leaned together across the arms of their chairs, they came face to face, and he smiled at her. Glancing upwards at the loft as the upper door clicked shut, he whispered, "He is gone now." She laughed again, his ploy had worked. Speaking softly and sitting quietly had bored Lindefal and he left them to themselves. She leaned in and gave him a light kiss on the lips with a blush. Playing a waiting game when she had decided to give herself away had made the evening more enticing as the minutes dragged by.
She had spoken of their childhood on an estate, with a father who taught them all self-defense and prowess in arms. Her mother and herself were often alone in the tower house with just the servants and field workers, and the estate was some distance from the nearest town. Her mother had taught them the finer manners in life, and an appreciation for art and craftsmanship. Her betrothed had been killed by raiders on a trade mission, and her parents died in a raid on the estate soon after. She had taken to roaming with her brothers on patrol as part of the town guards. She became a soldier in her grief and loss.
As the evening progressed he found her deep loneliness exceeded his in some aspects, and lost soul comforted lost soul in slow and gentle strokes and long kisses. He was very careful of her still-healing wounds in his caresses. He chanced an invitation upstairs when he rose and offered his hand to her. She smiled at the sight of the oversized square bed, the covers had been turned back and rose petals were strewn across the snowy sheets. A single candle burned beside the bed, the rest of the chamber was in darkness. She turned with a smile and kissed him sweetly in the dim light of the upper chamber. Clothing fell away in slow layers, and they moved together in increasing want and need. The soft linens billowed around her as she crawled across the expanse and lay back into the piles of pillows. This was a dream to her after lonely years and many months in the wintry field.
He relished the change of having a partner who did not flood his mind with emotions, and he felt a calmness and control of himself when he was not challenged by the Elven energies of others whipping along his aura. He allowed her to move as was comfortable for her back injuries. He welcomed her caresses and kisses with gentle encouragement as his own passion grew within.
He monitored her progress though her sighs and moans, her pulse against his skin and the spreading blush across her face and neck. He kissed the dash of freckles across her throat as she moaned in pleasure. He was perfectly content to allow someone else to set the pace and determine the rate at which they proceeded. He was only too willing to relinquish control in a break from his responsibilities as father, mentor and leader of the people of Imladris. His own release, the need building up over the length of time it took her to please herself with gentle play and exploration, was wave after wave within himself, delicious in its solitary effects. He did not miss the Elven feedback of shared emotions and abstract patterns of color deep within his brain when he could savor their separate experiences as individuals. He sometimes wondered if his mixed background had something to do with this. He could never explain this appreciation of being a single entity to another Elf and know they understood completely.
As he walked down the stairs to his chambers Lindefal thought about the guests. He too found the short lives of Men to be a sad mystery, especially when they exhibited sparks of brilliance and intelligence. Yanala was tough and strong, lean and lithe, and intelligent. For some reason he liked her from the start, and he did not care for members of the race of men generally. He did not like her enough to woo her favor however, but he allowed her to work in the library with every assistance he could provide.
He had expressed his growing fondness for her sense of humor and modest manner one evening as he combed Elrond's long and tangled hair after a day out riding and working in the fields. Elrond had just smiled as he had developed an affectionate feeling for them all. He would never forget the pure joy that radiated from Dorimal's face as he rode around the paddock that day, and he was exerting every effort to ensure that the damaged knee would heal properly. There was something about Talamir's self-confidence and intelligence that intrigued him, and Yanala's sharp eyes glowed with sparks like a mineral crystal in the sunlight as she grew excited discussing a plant's properties. They were indeed an interesting diversion for sleepy stirring time days.
Talamir had been respectful in his greeting the evening they met accidentally along the river's edge, but he accepted the invitation to stroll along the grassy path. Walking its length under the stars they wandered far away from the lights of the Great House. Elrond settled in by the river's edge and removed his shoes, placing his feet into the icy water and trailing fingers in the bubbling current. The cold water shocked his senses and cleared his mind. Talamir sat beside him and dipped cautious fingers in the stream, drawing them back with a start at the extreme cold. Elrond smiled and remarked on the different tolerances between Elves and Men in regard to weather and temperatures. Talamir sat back and looked at the brilliant stars that glittered overhead as he listened.
Drawing his knees up and leaning on them, he shyly asked what other differences there were between the races. Elrond answered quietly in a litany of differences, wishing there was more light cast across those brown eyes than fell from a distant lantern along the path. The bubbling gurgle of the stream and the balmy night eased them and surrounded them with calmness.
Elrond pulled his feet from the stream and lay back on the mossy turf to examine the winter constellations in the sky. The cool clear air and the sound of the river as it rippled by along its stony bed was refreshing. Talamir lay back and pointed out the stars giving them their southern names, while Elrond repeated the names in musical Sindarin. Constellations were compared and traced by pointing fingers.
Talamir was old enough to choose his own path, and his eyes held knowledge of the world behind them. Elrond felt he hid his talents deliberately and understood he knew more than he spoke of. If he wanted a joining he would ask for it. Elrond allowed him to be close and yet remained calm and restrained; joining with those of the race of Men was all about the teasing before hand and allowing them to find their own way. With no aural feedback to guide him, past experience was his key to success.
Talamir turned and stretched out on the grassy bank beside the quiet figure. He leaned his head on his hands thinking that the gray eyes caught and held the light of the stars within them. Again he felt that strange feeling of warmth and acceptance envelop him. He thought back to the rippling muscles and easy flowing strokes of the ax in the morning air, and to the grace on horseback he had seen, and of the gently probing fingers as his wounds were dressed.
Looking at those eyes in the dim light he felt again the overwhelming impression that they had seen the blinding light of joy and the crushing darkness of grief. The millennia that had passed before them were unimaginable to him. "You have seen many events in the days of your life have you not?" he asked. Elrond laughed, "Yes indeed, many, many things." He watched a shooting star streak across the sky. Talamir continued, "I think there have been sad days among their count have there not? I see a shadow of grief here, and here." He traced a gentle finger along Elrond's cheek and temple. "There is a shadow there, it does not ever leave me," Elrond replied, returning a brutally honest answer for an honest question.
Laying a hand on the embroidered fabric of the tunic, and sliding his fingers inside between the small silver buttons, Talamir leaned over and kissed the parting lips as Elrond turned towards him. "Maybe you can forget those sad days for awhile tonight," Talamir whispered. He ran questing fingers along the dark strands of hair, the texture and weight was just as he had imagined it would be. There was just something about those dark strands that was unique and curious. He had longed to touch it since their first day in the reception hall.
He was encouraged by the quiet responses of the figure lying beside him, and he grew bolder with his teasing attentions. Slender fingers moved through his hair and gentle thumbs stroked his cheeks. Soft whispers encouraged him. His caresses were welcomed with low moans and smiles, and he leaned forward for another kiss, rising above and across the broad chest as his hunger for contact grew. He had had sex with other men before, mostly on extended outings on patrol. There were also women in the town who favored the soldiers and offered their graces for a meal or gift. As he traveled with his family on patrol, he remained celibate and alone. It had been some time since he had felt the loving touch of any other being, male or female.
He moved with growing confidence as he learned he was not rebuffed in his advances. His kisses grew hungrier and his hands roamed along buttons and lacings, skillfully releasing them from loops and bows. Firm strokes and eager bites and kisses drew a growing responsiveness from his partner, and the dome of stars arched over their growing passion. His hands drifted across the ranks of smooth muscles he had observed before, and his gentle touch brought flutters to the skin beneath his fingertips.
He pleased himself, and Elrond, in the cool darkness of the night, with only the stars as witnesses. His pleasure was especially poignant due to his loneliness and the fantasy of their location, and he felt he had never experienced quite the same sensations ever before. It was as if they were in a dream then, and he wondered if it had really happened when he awoke that morning in his large bed in the guest suite.
Erestor had picked up on this growing attraction to the guests and had artfully arranged their places at the Master's Table. Yanala sat at Elrond's right hand night after night, signaling to all that she was taken. Talamir rotated around from the left side of the table to her side and back again as Erestor watched things further develop at that end of the table. Elrond enjoyed the company of both, challenging Erestor's abilities to seat them and judge the trends of affections. Little brother was happy to sit with the twins, and other troublemakers, in the distant corner of the dining hall, where jokes were boisterous and horseplay the norm. Dorimal was a popular teammate in the dishwashing games that followed.
Yanala held her own with the other guests as they rotated through the left hand chair, and proved to be a charming dinner companion. Her days were spent in the library and at the high desks with her copy work. With her injuries she could not sit hunched over for long without standing to ease the strained muscles and the stitched cuts. One day, taking a break to ease her stiff back, she had walked around the library, then stopped and quietly watched Elrond through the doorway to his study.
He was seated with his back to her at a high desk there, finishing a page of lyrically flowing Sindarin script. Sitting back, he read the words through to check for errors. He seemed calm and relaxed in his work, and he nibbled an ink-stained finger as he studied the page. Realizing this, he looked at his hand, then wiped his mouth with his palm, then cleaned his fingers on a damp cloth. He stroked his lips in deep thought as he became lost in the epic laid out before him. Lindefal never disturbed him in that pose; it was the sign of deepest concentration and withdrawal from the world around him.
The sunlight came from an overhead window in a shaft across his shoulder and the complex designs in embroidery across the shoulders of the short green tunic glittered in the bright light. He sat straight and stretched a bit, the broad shoulders and tapering waist revealed in the motion. His dark hair was braided and pulled back out of the way, but strands were escaping and creeping forward around his shoulders. He absently pushed them back. Her hands could feel the texture of those strands even now. She wondered if their night together had been a dream. She sighed, her betrothed had had dark hair as well, but he had been dead for several years now, killed on patrol in the South by outlaws.
She had thrown herself into a military life after the death of her parents followed shortly thereafter, and with no father to arrange a marriage, she remained a free agent in society. Her older brother Talamir would intercede for her if she found another suitable match. She had not done so for these past years, and had given little thought to her loneliness before they arrived in Rivendell. A gentle touch and kind word had opened a floodgate of pent-up emotions and desires. She was reassessing her life now and wondered what the future might hold for her. There was a medical student from Gondor in the greenhouses that had noticed her among the ferns one day, she had smiled shyly back at him but moved on. She was deciding she had fled from her emotions for too many years now.
Looking up as the stool creaked, she noted his slender fingers as they took up the pen again, and a long leg slid down from a rung to rest on the floor. He checked the text of the original again and began the flowing writing across the parchment in absolute concentration. Dust motes swirled in the sunlight and only the scratching of the pen across the parchment disturbed the silence of the chamber. His concentration and dedication to the task was absolute. The strokes were exquisite, precise and expressive. Centuries of practice made them perfect.
She realized with a start that her pulse was racing and that she was holding her breath. She turned to resume her own work and found Lindefal standing directly behind her with a smile. He made a shushing motion and turned her back around quietly. He stepped forward and whispered in her ear, "I always enjoy this quiet time of the day." Squeezing her arms in a comradely gesture he added, "And the view is quite nice from here, eh?" She was certain she blushed as she was caught in her secret admiration of the Master of the House. "Don't worry," he said softly, 'Many pass through his arms and his bed, and each is more special than the last, more beloved than the next. No one may claim that bed with any permanence." She sighed. Of course that was the case with someone in his position. She determined to follow a more modest course while she sorted out her life. Besides, they would be leaving soon.
Elrond finished the page, set the pen aside and rose from the stool. He stretched backwards with a yawn. Placing his hands on his hips he studied his work. Stretching again, he walked to his long and low desk and took a seat. As he selected an apple from the wooden bowl at the edge of the desk he looking up and noticed the two observers in the arched doorway. She blushed as Lindefal took her hand and flopped it in a limp wave, and Elrond laughed and gestured them in for a break and a visit. The afternoon escaped them in long conversations about everything, and nothing at all.
Elrond learned more of these guests as the days passed. Their father had ensured their education was not overlooked. As they became at ease in the environment they found themselves in, their manners returned as well, and they were revealed to be graceful and cultured members of a minor noble family. Defense of the home was important for an estate away from town, and their father had trained the household in the arts of war and weaponry. Yet their parents had also cultivated the finer arts in their children as befit their station. An Orc raiding party had killed their parents several years ago he had learned, and he wondered if that shared experience had sealed the bond between the brothers and his twins.
Aragorn had spoken to Elrond of their bravery and stamina fighting the flood, and of their stalwart hearts and concern for each other. He had also explained much to them during rounds of the city, and he bridged the gaps in their understanding by his own intimate understanding of the settlement and its residents. He found them to be honest and dedicated soldiers as they spent time together, and he admired the opportunities their family had provided for them, and the natural talents they possessed.
The brothers showed remarkable survival skills, and as residents of Gondor, and orphans, they might be successfully drafted to aid the Rangers. They were of an age where training would still come easy, and they were already performing similar duties on their own. Aragorn discussed this with Elrond as they walked along the lengthy corridors one rainy evening, teasing pros and cons back and forth in consideration. They decided to watch the brothers more closely and sound their temperaments and skills. Yanala was as yet an uncertain player in this plan, but she was a warrior in her own right and deserving of respect.
The brothers practiced with light swords as they recovered from their wounds, Talamir's shoulder was still stiff, and Dorimal still favored his knee when he walked. They were first in line for kitchen duty however, and won a few hearts of those on the dishwashing roster. Yanala was winning hearts over with her shy smile and dry sense of humor, she found herself spending more time in the greenhouses with the plants, and she managed to meet that shy medical student as well.
As they always did for strangers in the valley, the days rolled by uncounted in their passing. Contact with the Master of the House became somewhat restrained as the scouts sought to sort out their environment and what had happened between them. They tried to understand what it really meant to be resident there, and to be caught up in the easy flow of relationships, so foreign to them. Aragorn had just smiled a little smile, tilted his head in a slight nod and offered no advice to Talamir, and Galenbrethil explained things to Yanala the best she could from her unique vantage point in the inner circle of lovers and advisors. Yanala was not certain she could cope with a round robin of different beds and lovers. The sweet smile of that medical student haunted her as well.
Talamir and Dorimal regained the use of their injured limbs and practiced their archery skills and swordsmanship with Aragorn and the twins. Aragorn stopped practice one day, stepping back and catching his breath as Elrond approached the lawn. His twins raised arms in lazy greetings as they reclined in the grass nearby. Aragorn bowed low and welcomed Elrond with an exaggerated sweep of an arm. He presented the practice sword with extended hands, and Elrond gave it a few swings to test its heft. He bent his knees and stepped forward and back a bit to warm up. Drawing the long knife from Aragorn's belt, he stepped back swinging both weapons and gathering his thoughts and energies.
He took both brothers on with a challenge. The twins hooted as they sat up to pay attention. They called out hints to the brothers as the threesome circled each other for advantage. Any practice bout their father took part in was sure to be something to see.
Elrond taught them the value of precise footwork and a cultivated style as he elegantly blocked or avoided their slashing blades again and again. They moved in broad circles around the lawn as he led them forward and then drove them back with easy strokes and side steps. In frustration the brother's blades flashed and darted with increasing speed. A small crowed gathered to watch and cheer a good move or a narrow miss.
Elrond was pressed to parry and stay out of harm's way as they grew more frustrated. "Well,' he thought to himself, "you started it." He jumped back from a close swing, the swords were practice blades, but could deal an injury just the same. Talamir was tiring and favoring his shoulder, and Dorimal was getting careless. "Tie, tie," he called out, leaning on his knees and catching his breath, "No points scored." They had stamina, that was for certain, and they were not bad with their swords either. He could tell that Talamir had real skill even though still favored his injured shoulder. The appreciative crowd offered cheers and supportive remarks to the brothers; no one had any doubts as to Elrond's skills with a blade. Aragorn stood nearby smiling; he always learned something from his foster father no matter what the situation. He remembered a quick and simple parry, and wanted to walk through it to add it to his own repertoire of moves.
Also panting from exertion the brothers cried out, "No fair" after the twins told them how many centuries their father had beaten them repeatedly as well. They told the brothers not to even think of racing him on horseback. Elrond smiled at the exchange. He truly enjoyed the time spent with his sons, and with these guests as well. He stepped around along side Talamir and demonstrated a few tricks, and they walked through the exercise until he had the moves down perfectly. Dorimal was attentive to the lesson as well, he was in awe of the flashing blades as each round increased in speed and precision. They all watched as Aragorn practiced the simple parry with Elrond, it was one he had learned from Gil-galad on a sunny day on a practice field much like this one.
The cool and clearing days kept them outside in the sunshine and fresh breezes on the training fields and on horseback along the river. Yanala joined them occasionally, and while she demurred from swordplay, she could out throw everyone with the long and slender Elven knives. Her blades vibrated in the target, dead center. Elrond's expression at this new skill she displayed was priceless, and he gasped with a disbelieving smile as she loosed one blade after another in a rapid display of mastery and skill. The five blades stood in the center of the target, shaving each other in the precision of the throws. He handed his knives to her, handles forward, with a bow of defeat before his turn ever came around. He would certainly respect those slender hands and sharp eyes more the next time they were together.
One clear evening Elrond climbed the stairs to the gate of a small-enclosed garden, a flickering lantern swinging in his hand. Sheltered within embracing stonewalls, creeping vines tangled the benches in foliage and sculptures weathered away in the elements from centuries of exposure. Tall urns trailed withered foliage. As he opened the squeaky iron gate, he saw Talamir jump up in surprise from a bench within. "I am sorry, I was told no one ever came here. I can leave now." As he stepped forward Elrond entered and shut the gate behind him. He hung the lantern on a scrolling iron vine near the gate. "It is quite alright, you may stay if you don't mind a bit of company. I find this peaceful place to be a comfort after a busy day." Still uncertain, Talamir sat back down on the mossy bench. He was unclear about what had happened between them that night, and wondered if it was a dream, he was embarrassed at his boldness in after thought. He knew things were changing between their host and themselves, but he was not clear how this was coming about. He had not spoken of it to the others.
He apologized, "Aragorn said it was not used much. He called it the Garden of Unspoken Sadness and Unshed Tears. It seemed a good place to be tonight." He sighed, and drew a deep breath, "We are recovered now and must decide when to return home. It is a hard decision to make." He studied the leaves along the grass at his feet.
Elrond sat on a bench near the gate and placed his hands between his knees and leaned forward looking at the ground. The grass was tall here, and still golden from its winter state. The garden was unkept now for the most part. Stony walls radiated the heat they had absorbed from the sun. Talamir was correct in his understanding; few came here whatever the season. Arwen would clean the dead foliage away and replant the old favorites when she arrived for her spring visit; the twins could not bear the memories and never returned to this small space.
Elrond said softly, "Aragorn describes the garden in the Common Tongue. I suspect it gained that name many years ago." He looked up in the dim light and leaned back against the warm wall behind him. "This was my wife's garden. Celebrian spent many hours here long ago, and she grew her favorite flowers and herbs in its shelter." He looked around and Talamir could feel the sadness reach him across the path. "It looks much different now." Noting Talamir's discomfort, he continued with a little smile, " She waits for me in the undying lands. In the meantime her garden is a restful spot for thinking and dreaming." During one of their afternoon strolls around the settlement Aragorn had mentioned to Talamir that Elrond had been married, and that his wife had gone away long ago. He had not indicated that this had been her garden when he named it.
In the silence surrounding them they sat a while and considered their own thoughts. Elrond left many things unspoken, but asked Talamir more questions about their home and their situation in life. He learned they still maintained the estate of their father, but spent much of the year abroad in the wild, Yanala as well. Caretakers plowed the fields and sowed the crops, and herdsmen watched the cattle and pigs for them. They discussed the skills needed for a scout and wayfarer, and he touched again on the growing evil reappearing in the world.
Talamir knew more than he had let on earlier; when still unsure of his situation and the environment they found themselves in. Elrond nodded as he determined the true depth of knowledge Talamir possessed. He found out that Talamir knew who the Rangers were and what they did in the wilds. "Gandalf told me to guard this knowledge and I would know when it would aid me," he said. The look on Elrond's face froze the next words in his mouth.
Elrond leaned forward and placed his face in his hands muttering, "That crafty old devil." He looked up intently at Talamir as he folded his arms across his chest in annoyance. "And what else did Master Gandalf tell you?" Thinking he had slipped in this revelation, Talamir asked, "You know him? You know Gandalf? He was a visitor in my father's house many times, and he came to see me before we left on this expedition." Elrond raised an eyebrow even higher; "Only too well do we know Master Gandalf here in Rivendell. Now, what else did he tell you? " Talamir felt mesmerized by the intent stare across the yard, and understood by the tone and expression that Elrond did indeed know Gandalf. Funny that Aragorn had not mentioned his name on their walks around the compound.
Talamir continued, "He said we should seek the broad river if we got lost or had great need. He said to follow it past the waterfalls and we would know what to do. He would explain no further. That is how we came to be there in the flood, we were looking for the waterfalls, then Aragorn and your sons found us." Elrond shook his head and laughed a gentle laugh of understanding, "Talamir," he said, "You have found the waterfalls, do you realize that?" It was Talamir's turn to look shocked. "You mean the ones beyond the Great House? Those are the ones Gandalf referred to? Not the smaller ones downstream? What does this mean then? That he meant for us to find you here? That he meant for us to come to Rivendell?"
Elrond absorbed the rush of questions as he thought it through. His finger crept up to his lips in his old habit as he turned ideas this way and that. "Gandalf passes through Rivendell on his journeys both north and south, he is a frequent guest and has his own suite of rooms here. He keeps us informed of the comings and goings of the outside world, when he desires too. I wonder why he did not mention you to me when he was here a few weeks ago." They thought about their new situation in light of this news. Gandalf had allowed Elrond to make the final judgment of Talamir's skills by his secrecy.
"I was going to ask you to stay with us, to cast your lot in with the Rangers and use Rivendell as a base for your patrols. We need every pair of eyes and hands we can gather to watch for the coming darkness." He looked at the young man with piercing eyes. " Now Gandalf seems to have endorsed you by sending you my way. You are a good and careful scout and your intelligence and experience would be very useful to us. Yanala and Dorimal have important skills as well."
He continued, "As the head of your family, you must decide about Dorimal and Yanala, but they are both welcome to stay with us as well. The Border Guards always benefit from fresh soldiers on patrol. If Yanala chose another path, her training in the medical arts would benefit Galenbrethil and Cirgalad in the greenhouses. There is always room in Imladris for additional skilled hands." He smiled, " You have made many friends in Rivendell during your stay." He looked across the dim garden and asked formally, "Will you stay with us here and join the Rangers?"
He sat back and watched this heavy request fall on the young man's shoulders. "Why don't you think about it and we can speak of it later." The warm wall relaxed his tired back as he leaned against it with still folded arms. As he watched Talamir think in reserved silence he thought of how a few words could affect the course of a life. He thought of the power of written words, words like: "Prepare to receive and host the combined armies of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men at Imladris." Simple spoken words that affected a moment, a day, a lifetime. Words like:" I love you", "I must leave now," and "Please stay," carried the weight of mountains in their meanings. He remembered an evening at sea when he had learned that soft weapons pierced the heart as effectively as steel in the word "Yes".
Talamir finally rose and said, "I must speak with the others. We will take counsel as we have pledged our lives together. Dorimal will want to stay, Yanala I cannot speak for." Elrond nodded, "A wise decision, and I expected no less from you. Come to me when you wish to speak of this further. I will say nothing to anyone else without your permission." He watched the slender figure open the gate and descend the stairs. He thought of where they might live, if they could pry Dorimal out of the stables. Perhaps that would be the best place for him now.
He was fairly certain they would stay. Gandalf had planted seeds for this day, seeds that had blossomed this very evening. He leaned back in the dark and quiet space and closed his eyes. He was glad winter was ending, and welcomed the Stirring Time in the days ahead. More things were budding than the green shoots of nature, and he took comfort in the quiet of the garden.
The next day dawned cold and gray and misty. Lindefal had no pressing business on the schedule and he dressed Elrond warmly in layers of robes for a lazy day around the house. He thought the dark circles under the gray eyes could tell a tale, but he was efficient and silent as he held the soft high boots ready to be pulled on. He quickly created a simple plait in the long dark hair and tied it off with a leather thing before Elrond could tie it back in a knot.
He noticed it was especially silky and soft today, just what it did not need to be as strands began to unravel themselves from the plait even before he tied it off. A wisp fell forward to annoy Elrond before he even rose from the chair. He had given up fighting his hair years ago and tried to ignore it for the most part. He felt in his heart that it plotted to torment him with tickles and snarls. It was handy to tease his lovers with, and they seemed to be entranced by it, so he formed an uneasy truce with the heavy black mass trailing down his back. He had no doubt it would betray him in a wink.
Lindefal pushed back the wisp and added a simple silver circlet to complete the attire of the Master of the House. While most knew who Elrond was and his position in the community, Lindefal always felt a token of his role was appropriate. "We have guests in the house you know," he added as Elrond shook his head and smiled. They enjoyed a leisurely and hearty breakfast while Lindefal filled him in on what was happening around the house today. The guests were the big news now the wedding was over. Elrond descended the interior stairs to the library, headed to the guest wing to see to the newcomers. Arriving in the long hallway of the guest wing he checked with the Hall Stewards. The guests had passed a quiet night, and had eaten two breakfasts each this morning.
Upon discovering that they were brothers and sister, Erestor decided to place them together at first for their own comfort and a feeling of security. Other arrangements would be easy to managed later in the empty guest wing of the house. Entering the largest room with multiple beds and a sitting area, he greeted Erestor and Aragorn, who were seated between the line of oversize beds, visiting with the guests. Indeed, as he had known they would be, they were stiff and achy this morning.
They were also amazed to be alive and to awaken in the height of luxury in the elegant guest rooms of Rivendell. They thought they must dreaming and that the flooded river and rescue had just been a bad dream. High ceilings with decorated beams, large windows and heated tiled floors, and a crackling fire in the fireplace had greeted their sleepy eyes that morning. They awoke to a gentle touch on their shoulders, accompanied by the rich smells of sausages, eggs, fresh bread, cheese and other treats they had long since done without while on patrol. They tackled the steaming food with relish and true pleasure.
Oversized beds with billowy linens and piles of pillows were a luxury they had not expected to find on this mission. The sight of the large bathing basin, and the idea of running hot water amazed them. The luxuriant indoor toilet facilities were a real fascination, and Erestor had explained exactly how everything worked for them as they creaked and limped on the tour of their room. They had slept yesterday afternoon and the entire night away after their rescue. Awaking hungry, they made short work of the hearty breakfasts presented to them this morning. He fussed over them as they ate, plumping pillows and serving seconds and thirds. Erestor always liked feeding appreciative diners.
The night of sound sleep in soft linens and cozy beds, and a good meal, had lightened their spirits. Yanala could not stop stroking the soft finish of her bed linens and the sleeves of her skillfully woven gown. Still wary and somewhat shy, they asked question after question, and Elrond finally pulled a chair around, sat down and explained where they were, how welcome they were, and how they had no worries as guests in his house. More questions were sparked by his comments, and finally they accepted the idea that the news they brought of the outside world would more than pay for their care and board at Rivendell.
They were soldiers and accustomed to being accountable for their needs and actions, and he could understand that. He also knew that they could participate in the household chores with the others and feel relieved of debt. Erestor and the twins could assume the task of keeping them busy as they recovered. This new project would also keep his sons close to home for a change. He wished to hear more of their thoughts about what they seen on this most recent foray out into the wilderness anyway. While he would always see them through the eyes of a father, he did respect their military skills and prowess, and trusted their sharp eyes and intelligent conclusions. They had had enough experience in the world to make them acute observers. They were his eyes in the wilderness. Erestor was explaining the rounds of chores to the guests and they nodded in comprehension and acceptance of the new responsibilities. Elrond smiled at this, and remarked, "After, of course, your healers release you to move about the house."
Elrond rose to check and change their bandages with the skillful hands of a healer, and the care of a concerned host. The wooden chest of medicines sat open on the table and he carefully selected the correct powders and lotions for their needs. His confident and gentle manner put them at ease as he asked about specific ailments and injuries. He felt for fevers and checked pulses and eyes. Everyone flinched at some touch here or there, but all in all they were remarkably lucky to have survived. Yanala's sutures looked clean and he was careful to apply a soothing cream around them as he tsk-tsked the damage. He carefully checked the cut across her collarbone, smiling at the dash of freckles there. Her bruises were blossoming into dark smudges against her pale skin.
He advised Erestor to meet any and all of their needs while they were resident at Rivendell, and offered Aragorn as a fountain of information for any questions they thought of. Anyone housed under Elrond's roof was treated as family. His pantries were loaded, the bread ovens hot and full, and breweries productive, and his heart was large enough to embrace all comers.
He plumped their pillows and sat them back in their beds, and seated himself nearby in preparation to listen to their tale. Findalor, Elladan and Elrohir came by, with Legolas in tow, to check on the guests, and they pulled chairs around to hear the tale as well. Aragorn settled back with legs outstretched to listen.
Trusting their fates to the silent figures seated before them, and sensing they had their undivided attention, Talamir began to tell their tale. They had been on a scouting mission in the autumn months, sent by the citizens of their town to the northern regions to investigate the environment there. Warnings of disturbances in the south were increasing and rumors of Orc raiding parties and roving bands of outlaws also in the north had come to them via traders. They had tracked several parties of Orcs, and been attacked themselves at one point, escaping only due to the speed of their hearty horses. They had met a band of traders who had been attacked as well. Aragorn explained that the Rangers had noted their passing, and monitored their travels, but had lost them at one point after the attack of the Orcs. They were feared killed.
Aragorn and the twins were keeping watch for their trail as they roamed the northern stretches on patrol, and had tracked them to the river bank as the flood waters from the rain upstream crashed down the narrow channel. Too late to stop them from entering the river, they watched as the trio was swept away by the flood tide. Traveling along the banks at a run, they took an opportunity to reach out and grab them as they struggled to climb the muddy and steep banks as the water tore at them in torrents.
Each one was shouting for the others to be rescued first and Talamir and Yanala were trying to push Dorimal up the steep bank. Aragorn and the twins finally divided them up and grabbed for the nearest one to save any of them. Branches, silt and rocks rolled along in the crest, indeed entire trees had been uprooted and tumbled along the deep channel. Shredded by sharp branches Yanala's clothing became entangled in a submerged thorn tree's branches, and she was caught gasping as the floodwaters surged around her. Sharp thorns had torn her flesh as she was caught in their tangled grasp. Tearing fabric allowed her to escape before she drowned.
They had caught their breath under the trees and listened to Aragorn and the twins introduce themselves and explain who they were. Shaken, and suffering from exposure and near drowning, they agreed to seek shelter with these three rough and tumble looking strangers, ones who had saved them from the river and fed and warmed them now with blankets and a fire. Sometimes strangers could become well-met friends in the wilds. Their reports of the raiding parties and narrow escape from the Orcs fell on particularly attentive ears. Aragorn reported to them now that that particular group of evildoers would bother no one else thanks to the swift arrows of Elladan and Elrohir.
Elrond and Aragorn exchanged knowing looks at some points in the story and asked specific questions as to locations, areas, and other details. Findalor nodded and kept exact mental notes of their information. Legolas also had incisive questions for them on certain aspects of their adventures. The twins filled in details from their experiences as well. Elrond pursed his lips and nibbled a finger as he heard news from the southern reaches. Trade had been slow this winter and news scarce from the south. He learned many new things from the threesome, and answered more questions they had about the world events taking shape around them.
They all saw a gathering storm, but appreciated the growing darkness with different levels of understanding. Aragorn and Legolas looked grave and Elrond and Findalor fell silent, deep within their own thoughts. But Erestor took the opportunity to gather dishes and trays and start the bath water for the first round of hot soaks. The scouts began to accept they might be safe here, and understood they were guests of those who also watched for enemies and protected the home front.
They fell into a routine of sorts revolving around rest, the treatment of their wounds, and slow and careful exercise in short walks around the house. They choose to stay together in the large guest room, and wondered at its luxury when they were alone, looking into cupboards, feeling the warmed tile floor, and admiring the carved beams that stretched above their heads. Yanala sat on the balcony outside the tall windows every evening and watched the setting sun as the bells tolled the end of the day. The elegance and luxury reminded them of a safe and pampered childhood, long left behind them now.
Enjoying time spent with their father, the twins accepted their new assignment of house duty with good natures. They adopted the healing guests with gusto, showing them portions of the Great House and the rest of the settlement as they became able walk about and take things in. The brothers bonded with Elrond's sons, who picked their brains dry with questions about life in the south, and the customs of men. Clearing days allowed them to be outdoors in the glades and gardens, and to walk along the river paths as they improved.
Elrond saw the rose come back into the guest's cheeks and was gratified as the gaunt and haunted looks faded as some weight filled them out again. Rest and care brought them back to health and well being. Shy at dinner at first, they became accustomed to being watched and questioned by interested diners around them. The open flirtation and sensuality among the residents was foreign to them, and the overly friendly servers a shock, but they chose to go with the flow and observe the situation without remark or judgment. Aragorn explained some things to them about Elven life, and Legolas and the twins answered franker questions the brothers had in a long walk along the river.
Yanala observed and learned what was acceptable behavior, and Galenbrethil answered questions she had about customs and appropriate behavior in Rivendell. Lindefal was all too eager to visit with her in the library and make suggestions and recommendations to her. Yanala found herself wandering the stairs and corridors in wonder at the sprawling settlement that was their temporary home. Views from the stacked balconies and hanging gardens stopped her at every turn as she looked out in wonder at the waterfalls and steep valley sides.
Talamir wanted to move to the stables and just live with the beautiful Elven horses, and was beside himself with joy when he went riding just for fun one clear morning with Legolas and Elrond's sons. He was still grasping the fact that the twins had also ridden with Aragorn's father, when they seemed so close in behavior to his own age. Aragorn was grim and silent for the most part, and was another mystery to him in the odd world of Imladris, where nothing was as it seemed.
Talamir had a real affinity for the elegant Elven horses and a good working knowledge of their care and pampering. He regretted the loss of their sturdy southern horses in the flood, so different from the long legged and lively Elven horses. Elrond assigned him a horse for his own use while there, and he rode daily when the weather permitted. His shoulder remained stiff but improved slowly. He fussed with the sling provided but it did relieve the pain when he overdid.
Dorimal waited with impatience until his injured leg improved enough for him to join them along the trails. Adopted by the grooms, this youngest guest was spoiled by them in an atmosphere of leather and harness, straw and hay, and he grew to know all the names and personalities of the horses housed in the rambling stables. The twins teased him as he favored the brown eyes and arching neck of Elrond's favorite mount, and he always greeted this intelligent animal with soft scratches around the ears and kisses on the soft nose.
His first day out riding was aboard this gray giant, who moved as carefully and gracefully as imaginable on the gentle sloping paths around the stables. Elrond stood leaning, chin on arms, on the high fence next to Talamir. They watched as the youth rode in slow circles around the paddock in complete joy. Relenting to Dorimal's un-ending pleas, Elrond had finally consented to a brief outing. The mounting had been accompanied by winces and ouches due to the stiff knee, but the excitement of being outside and astride overcame the pain. Elrond gave him a pat on the leg after he hoisted him up into the saddle, and he spoke a few words into the expressive ears as the horse nudged his pockets for a treat.
No one had ever enjoyed those few rounds around the stable yard as had Dorimal. Elrond's fatherly instincts were richly rewarded by the enjoyment and obvious pleasure of the youth. Taking advantage of this quiet time alone, Talamir thanked him sincerely for his care of them while they were in his house. Elrond laid his head on his arms and smiled back, Talamir's hair was bleached by the sun, and his deep brown eyes were fascinating to Elrond.
He liked the brown eyes of mortals, the variety of shades were a wonder, unlike the clear gray so common among Elves. He thought the variety of features in the race of Men more than made up for their lack of physic bonding abilities. Talamir looked back at the ageless figure before him, frozen in indecision. He was uncomfortable in the gaze, yet did not look away. He thought he saw in the calm eyes looking at him the knowledge of a thousand nights of pleasure, and a million days of grief. Wisdom and understanding wrapped the quiet figure next to him, and he felt a strange feeling of acceptance, maybe even affection, when he was this close to Elrond. He had noticed each Elf in Rivendell had a particular "feel" about them, and he meant to ask Aragorn about this, he thought this was best a mortal-to-mortal question.
Elrond's dark hair glimmered in the fading sunlight as it hung loosely across his broad shoulders. Long strands stirred in the breeze as he turned to watch Dorimal ride past again. Talamir thought it was odd the way the waving strands brushed his cheek and lifted and turned in the softly moving air. It was as if the strands sought to embrace the quiet features, and to tease his face with gentle caresses. Talamir looked at the noble profile as the chin rested on slender fingers atop the wooden railing. Unsettled at how he felt, he also looked back at Dorimal and made a remark about the ride. As ambassadors for the community, the horses won the guests over as die hard supporters of the refuge and all it stood for. Elrond continued to watch, chin on arms, hip to hip with Talamir. He was winning a few new fans as well.
Yanala acquiesced to Lindefal's suggestions and wore gowns for meals in the dining hall at night, but she preferred soft leggings and a tunic for her daytime attire. She enjoyed visiting the horses in the stables also, but was truly fascinated by the Library Hall. She demonstrated a breadth of knowledge that surprised Elrond, not all her time had been spent on missions into the wild it seemed.
He became aware of her one afternoon in the library as she stood back and watched over his shoulder while he was at work copying a manuscript page. As she moved for a better view she accidentally blocked his light. Turning, he beckoned her nearer, and she asked about his technique and the materials he used. She noted that the pages seemed to be for an herbal, and she recited from memory the uses for the willow branch and leaves in the small illustration on the page he was working on. She pointed to a drying page nearby illustrating sage with a smile and drew her hand back from the illustration of the oleander, whispering, "poisonous." His appreciation for her broad knowledge increased dramatically, she was not just reading the descriptions. The text was in the flowing Sindarin script, which she did not recognize. She asked to hear it read aloud and smiled at the melodious sounds of the language. The image of the plants formed in her mind as he spoke, and their natures were revealed through the sounds of the words. Thus was she introduced to the mystical language she had already heard around her while staying there. In fact she was surprised that so many residents spoke the Common Tongue so well.
She had studied plant lore as a child, and had assisted healers in the nearby city in the distillation of medications. She retained an encyclopedic memory of plant uses in the southern regions. It was agreed she would assist in the library during her stay there, by making notes of all the uses she could remember for the most uncommon plants she knew. Her sample sketches were clear and recognizable, and her strong script was clear and legible. Her concentration and productivity were inspiring as she spent hours near the large open windows of the Library Hall filling page after page with notes. She walked through the greenhouses with Elrond in wonder, and recited names and usages one after another as she brushed the fronds and leaves with loving fingers.
Galenbrethil watched them move among the plants deep in conversation, shoulder-to-shoulder and cheek-to-cheek as they examined this seedpod or that blossom together. She had been busy in the greenhouses this winter and had not made it up the house very often. She thought to herself wryly any evening venture up the long staircase to the study might be a waste of time for the next few weeks. Yanala asked about a small moss she was not familiar with, and cupped it between her hands for a whiff of its delicate fragrance. Elrond smiled at her and she felt an odd sensation of acceptance and affection. She had noticed feelings like this already from Lindefal and others, and wondered what element of Elvishness this might be. She made a note to ask Galenbrethil next time they were alone.
As he watched her admire the extensive botanical collection stretching along the aisles, he was stricken once again with wonder at the strange and complex creatures that were the race of Men. They never ceased to amaze Elrond, combining the deepest appreciation for art and beauty with the roughest natures, and within their short lifetimes they could accomplish much that was both terrible and beautiful. To find this depth of knowledge in this daughter of men trained as a soldier was a juxtaposition that intrigued him. Her large brown eyes were intelligent and her oval face was becoming beneath the cuts and bruises that were fading slowly.
Her auburn hair glinted sparks of red, and she wore it down for dinner, having noted the fashion around her for flowing locks. She had furtively watched Elrond's hair one night at dinner as he turned to speak with Talamir. A breeze from the open door brushed her cheek, and lifted a lock of his hair in a sinuous curl to creep across his shoulder and wrap around his neck. He absently brushed it back with slender fingers. She caught herself staring in fascination. Lindefal leaned over and told her everyone was mesmerized by Elrond's hair but him. As she turned to listen to his remark, she brushed back a strand of her own hair as it fell forward. During the day her long curls disappeared into the tight net cap that held it close to her head appropriately for a scout in the wild.
In conversation late one evening Elrond realized that the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks made her appear to be younger than she truly was. Lindefal had told him she had lost her betrothed before they wed. He wondered how she came to be a soldier. She was knowledgeable about the affairs of Men, and was somewhat conversant with the historical tales of both their peoples, but she still struggled to understand she had stumbled into the world of legend. She too had determined that nothing they saw in Imladris was as it seemed in their mortal perceptions.
As they sat in tall chairs side by side before the fire in his study, he had laid a warm hand over hers, and stroked her fingers softly as she spoke. She allowed the touch and curled her fingers into his. She found the heady mead eased her shyness and she trembled at his touch. She leaned towards him to hear his questions and looked into his clear gray eyes as they reflected the firelight. Lindefal was watching from the loft as she moved closer, and her laughter rose upwards in the calm air. Elrond's soft voice was not carrying well tonight, but his remark brought another smile to her face.
Resigned to an evening alone, he checked the bedchamber once more as he left through the upper door. As they leaned together across the arms of their chairs, they came face to face, and he smiled at her. She leaned in and gave him a light kiss on the lips with a blush. As the evening progressed he found her deep loneliness exceeded his in some aspects, and lost souls comforted lost soul in slow and gentle strokes and kisses. He was very careful of her wounds in his caresses.
As he walked down the stairs to his room Lindefal thought about the guests. He too found the short lives of Men to be a sad mystery, especially when they exhibited sparks of brilliance and intelligence. Yanala was tough and strong, lean and lithe, and intelligent. For some reason he liked her from the start, and he did not care for members of the race of men generally. He did not like her enough to woo her favor however, he still found the idea of joining with a psychically barren mortal distasteful, but he allowed her to work in the library with every assistance he could provide, and he actually appreciated the distraction she provided Elrond during the slow gray days of winter.
He had expressed his growing fondness for her sense of humor and modest manner one evening as he combed Elrond's long and tangled hair. Elrond had just smiled. He had developed an affectionate feeling for them all. He would never forget the pure joy that radiated from Dorimal's face as he rode around the paddock that day, and Elrond was exerting every effort to ensure that the damaged knee would heal properly. There was something about Talamir's self-confidence and intelligence that intrigued him, and Yanala's sharp eyes glowed with sparks like a mineral crystal in the sunlight as she grew excited discussing a plant's properties. They were indeed an interesting diversion for sleepy winter days.
He himself had no aversion to mortals, and found their open and honest manners refreshing and sometimes delightful. He read their body language with ease, and did not miss the additional layers of psychic nuances that Elves perceived among themselves. The lack of feedback in relationships with them gave him a chance to hear himself think for a change, and made joining with them a real challenge to his senses. He had to pay attention to style and technique in these cases, and exercise the utmost care in reading responses.
Talamir had been respectful and sweet the evening they met accidentally along the river's edge. Walking its length under the stars they wandered far away from the lights of the Great House. Elrond had settled in by the river's edge and removed his shoes, placing his feet into the icy water Talamir sat beside him and dipped cautious fingers in the bubbling stream, drawing them back with a start at the extreme cold. Elrond smiled and remarked on the differences between Elves and Men in regard to weather and temperature. Talamir sat looking at the brilliant stars that glittered overhead. Twirling a stem of reed between his fingers, he shyly asked what other differences there were between the races. Hands folded in his lap Elrond answered quietly, wishing there was more light cast across those brown eyes than fell from a distant lantern along the path.
Elrond pulled his feet from the stream and lay back on the mossy turf to examine the winter constellations in the sky. The cool clear air and the sound of the river as it bubbled by were refreshing and cleared his head. Talamir lay back and pointed out the stars with their southern names, while Elrond repeated the names in musical Sindarin.
Talamir was old enough to choose his own path, and his eyes held the knowledge of the world behind them. If he wanted a joining he would ask for it. Elrond allowed him to be close and yet remained calm and restrained, joining with humans was all about the teasing before hand and allowing them to find their own way. With no aural feedback to guide him, experience was his key to success. Talamir turned and leaned his head on his hands thinking that the gray eyes before him caught and held the light of the stars within them.
Again he felt that overwhelming impression that those eyes had seen the light of joy and the dark of grief. Slowly he leaned over and kissed the smiling lips, and stroked the dark hair. He grew bolder as his attentions were silently welcomed, and he pleased himself, and Elrond, in the cool darkness of the night.
Erestor had picked up on this growing attraction to the guests and had artfully arranged their places at the Master's Table. Yanala sat at Elrond's right hand night after night, signaling to all that she was taken. Talamir rotated around from the left side of the table and to her side and back again as Erestor watched things develop at that end of the table. Elrond enjoyed the company of both, challenging Erestor's abilities to seat them and judge the trends of affections. Legolas also found himself sitting here and there as well, also a pawn in Erestor's mating games. Little brother was happy to sit with the twins, and other troublemakers, in the distant corner of the dining hall, where jokes were boisterous and horseplay the norm. Dorimal was a popular teammate in the dishwashing games that followed, even if he had to cheer from the sidelines the first few nights because of his injury.
Yanala held her own with the other guests as they rotated through the left hand chair, and proved to be a charming dinner companion. Glorfindel challenged her knowledge of history and legend one evening in a discussion that stretched the length of diner. Elrond noticed he had been oblivious to the other diners in the hall that night as heroes and events from the past filled their minds. Her days were spent in the library and at the high desks with her copy work. With her injuries she could not sit hunched over the desks for long without standing to ease the strained muscles and the stitched cuts.
One day, taking a break to ease her stiff back, she had walked around the library, then stopped and quietly watched Elrond through the doorway to his study. He was seated with his back to her, at a high desk there, finishing a page of lyrically flowing Sindarin script. Sitting back, he read the words through to check for errors. He seemed calm and relaxed in his work, and he nibbled an ink-stained finger as he studied the page. Realizing this, he looked at his hand, then wiped his mouth with his palm, then cleaned his fingers on a damp cloth. He stroked his lips in deep thought as he became lost in the epic laid out before him. Lindefal never disturbed him in that pose; it was the sign of deepest concentration and withdrawal from the world around him.
The sunlight came from an overhead window in a shaft across his shoulder and the complex designs in embroidery across the shoulders of the short green tunic glittered in the bright light. He sat straight and stretched a bit, the broad shoulders and tapering waist revealed in the motion. His dark hair was braided and pulled back out of the way, but strands were escaping and creeping forward around his shoulders. He absently pushed them back across his shoulder. Her hands could feel the texture of those strands even now. She sighed, her betrothed had had dark hair as well, but he had been dead for several years now, killed on patrol in the South by outlaws.
She had thrown herself into a military life after the death of her parents followed shortly thereafter, and with no father to arrange a marriage, she remained a free agent in society. Her older brother Talamir would intercede for her if she found another suitable match. She had not done so for these past years, and had given little thought to her loneliness before they arrived in Rivendell. She noted his slender fingers as they took up the pen again, and a long leg slid down from a rung to rest on the floor. She longed for his touch again; unsure that she had not dreamed the night they shared. She had awakened in her bed in the guest wing the next day with confused memories. He treated her with the same courtesy as always, however she had became reserved again as she figured things out.
He checked the text of the original again and began the flowing writing across the parchment in absolute concentration. Dust motes swirled in the sunlight and only the scratching of the pen across the parchment disturbed the silence of the chamber. His concentration and dedication to the task was absolute.
She realized with a start that her pulse was racing and that she was holding her breath. She turned to resume her own work and found Lindefal standing directly behind her with a smile. He made a shushing motion and turned her back around quietly. He stepped forward and whispered in her ear, "I always enjoy this quiet time of the day." Squeezing her arms in a comradely gesture he added, "And the view is quite nice from here, eh?" She was certain she blushed as she was caught in her secret admiration of the Master of the House. "Don't worry," he said softly, 'Many pass through his arms and his bed, and each is more special than the last, more beloved than the next. No one may claim that bed with any permanence." She sighed and determined a more modest course while a resident here.
Elrond finished the page, set the pen aside and rose from the stool. He stretched backwards with a yawn. Placing his hands on his hips he studied his work. Stretching again, he walked to his long and low desk and took a seat. As he selected an apple from the wooden bowl at the edge of the desk he looking up and noticed the two observers in the arched doorway. She blushed as Lindefal took her hand and flopped it in a limp wave, and Elrond laughed and gestured them in for a break and a visit. The afternoon escaped them in long conversations about everything, and nothing at all.
Elrond learned more of these guests as the days passed. Their father had ensured their education was not overlooked. As they became at ease in the environment they found themselves in, their manners returned as well, and they were revealed to be graceful and cultured members of a minor noble family. Defense of the home was important for an estate away from town, and their father had trained the household in the arts of war and weaponry. Yanala and her mother were no exception, as they often were home with just a few servants for days. Yet their parents had also cultivated the finer arts in their children as befit their station. An Orc raiding party had killed their parents several years ago he had learned, and he wondered if that shared experience had sealed the bond between the brothers and his twins.
Aragorn had spoken to Elrond of their bravery and stamina fighting the flood, and of their stalwart hearts and concern for each other. He had also explained much to them during rounds of the city, and he bridged the gaps in their understanding by his own intimate understanding of the settlement and its residents. He found them to be honest and dedicated soldiers of Gondor as they spent time together, and he admired the opportunities their family had provided for them, and the natural talents they possessed.
The brothers showed remarkable survival skills, and as residents of Gondor, and orphans, they might be successfully drafted to aid the Rangers. They were of an age where training would still come easy, and they were already performing similar duties on their own. Aragorn discussed this with Elrond as they walked along the lengthy corridors one rainy evening, teasing pros and cons back and forth in consideration. They decided to watch the brothers more closely and sound their temperaments and skills. Yanala was as yet an uncertain player in this plan.
The brothers practiced with light swords as they recovered from their wounds, Talamir's shoulder was still stiff, and Dorimal still favored his knee when he walked. They were first in line for kitchen duty however, and won a few hearts of those on the dishwashing roster. They spent hours brushing the dappled coats of the horses kept inside on rainy days, and they got good marks for every task they assumed. Yanala was winning hearts over with her shy smile and dry sense of humor.
Galenbrethil had not overtly noticed that Elrond took a deep interest in Yanala's wounded throat and the wounds across her back, and that he had applied the medicinal creams exceptionally slowly and gently in his care of her. She wondered if he noticed himself. He had soothed the tension away one day with a brief neck massage, and Yanala had leaned back into him relief. Her appreciation of his touch was more than the easing of tired shoulders. Galenbrethil saw more to come between them, even if he did not.
Galenbrethil had thought of Celebrian's injuries as she saw the deep and ragged gashes across Yanala's pale skin the morning they arrived. She guessed from his attitude and demeanor that Elrond considered her an individual and not a memory. Yet he did also extend the gentlest care to the brothers as their wounds healed and they grew refreshed and robust again after long months living in the wild. New faces were welcomed it seemed in the slow crawl of gray winter days.
As they always did for strangers in the valley, the days rolled by uncounted in their passing. Talamir and Dorimal regained the use of their injured limbs and practiced their archery skills with Legolas and swordsmanship with Aragorn. Aragorn bowed low and welcomed Elrond to the flat lawn one afternoon with an exaggerated sweep of an arm. Elrond took the brothers both on and taught them the value of precise footwork and speed as he avoided their slashing blades again and again. In frustration the brother's blades flashed and darted with increasing speed and skill. Elrond was pressed to parry and stay out of harm's way. "Well, he thought to himself, "You started it." He jumped back from a close swing, the swords were practice blades, but could deal an injury just the same. "Tie, tie," he called out, catching his breath, "No points scored." The boys had stamina that was for certain.
Panting from exertion the brothers cried out, "No fair" after the twins told them how many centuries their father had beaten them repeatedly as well. They told the brothers not to even think of racing him on horseback. "Only Legolas has a chance to beat him on horseback," they said to rounds of laughter and teasing. Elrond smiled at the exchange. He truly enjoyed the time spent with his sons, and with the guests as well. He left the archery lessons to Legolas, though he was no slouch with a bow himself, he was rusty from lack of practice.
The cool and clearing days kept them outside in the sunshine and fresh breezes on the training fields and on horseback along the river. Yanala joined them occasionally, and while she demurred from swordplay, she could out throw everyone but Legolas with the long and slender Elven knives. Her blades wedged next to his and vibrated in the target, dead center. Elrond's expression at this new skill she displayed was priceless, and he gasped as she loosed one blade after another in a rapid display of mastery and skill. He handed his knives to her, handles forward in a bow of defeat before his turn came around.
Out riding one afternoon Legolas told the brothers of the dashing horserace up the abandoned trail, now thoroughly blocked off. As they sat and looked up the much-changed cliff everyone laughed and Elrond shrugged. Legolas still basked in the glory of nearly defeating the Master of the House in a horserace. He retained his folk hero status in Rivendell for the events that afternoon. The late days of winter passed in rounds of resting, dining, training and song.
One clear evening Elrond climbed the stairs to the gate of a small enclosed garden, a flickering lantern swinging in his hand. Sheltered within embracing stonewalls, creeping vines tangled the benches in foliage and sculptures weathered away in the elements from centuries of exposure. Tall urns trailed withered foliage. As he opened the squeaky iron gate, he saw Talamir jump up in surprise from a bench within. "I am sorry, I was told no one ever came here. I can leave now." As he stepped forward Elrond entered and shut the gate behind him. He hung the lantern on a scrolling iron vine near the gate. "It is quite alright, you may stay if you don't mind a bit of company. I find this peaceful place to be a comfort after a busy day." Still uncertain, Talamir sat back down on the mossy bench. He was unclear about what had happened between them that night, and wondered if it was a dream. He knew things were changing between their host and themselves, but he was not clear how this was coming about. He did not speak of it to the others.
He apologized, "Aragorn said it was not used much. He called it the Garden of Unspoken Sadness and Unshed Tears. It seemed a good place to be tonight." He sighed, "We are well now and must decide when to return home." It is a hard decision to make.
Elrond sat on a bench near the gate and placed his hands between his knees and leaned forward, the grass was tall here, and golden in its winter state. The walls radiated the heat they had absorbed from the sun. Talamir was correct in his understanding; few came here whatever the season. Elrond said softly, "Aragorn describes the garden in the Common Tongue. I suspect it gained that name many years ago." He looked up in the dim light and leaned back against the warm wall behind him. "This was my wife's garden. Celebrian spent many hours here long ago, and she grew her favorite flowers and herbs in its shelter." He looked around and Talamir could feel the sadness reach him across the path. "It looks much different now." Noting Talamir's discomfort, he continued with a little smile, " She waits for me in the undying lands. In the meantime her garden is a restful spot for thinking and dreaming."
In the silence surrounding them they sat a while and considered their own thoughts. Elrond left many things unspoken, but asked Talamir about their home and their situation in life. He learned they still maintained the estate of their father, but spent much of the year abroad in the wild, Yanala as well. Caretakers plowed the fields and sowed the crops, and herdsmen watched the cattle and pigs for them. They discussed the skills needed for a scout and wayfarer, and he touched on the growing evil reappearing in the world. Talamir knew more than he had let on earlier, when still unsure of his situation and the environment they found themselves in. Elrond nodded as he determined the true depth of knowledge Talamir possessed. He found out that Talamir knew who the Rangers were and what they did in the wilds. "Gandalf told me to guard this knowledge and I would know when it would aid me," he said. The look on Elrond's face froze his next words in his mouth.
Elrond leaned forward and placed his head in his hands muttering, "That crafty old devil." He looked up intently at Talamir, "And what else did Master Gandalf tell you?" Thinking he had slipped in this revelation, Talamir asked, "You know him? You know Gandalf? He was a visitor in my father's house many times, and came to see me before we left on this expedition." Elrond raised an eyebrow even higher; "Only too well do we know Master Gandalf here in Rivendell. Now, what else did he tell you? " Talamir felt mesmerized by the intent stare across the yard, and understood by the tone and expression that Elrond did indeed know Gandalf. Funny that Aragorn had not mentioned his name on their walks around the compound.
Talamir continued, "He said we should seek the broad river if we got lost or had great need. He said to follow it past the waterfalls and we would know what to do. He would explain no further. That is how we came to be there in the flood, we were looking for the waterfalls, then Aragorn and your sons found us." Elrond shook his head and laughed a gentle laugh of understanding, "Talamir," he said, "You have found the waterfalls, do you realize that?" It was Talamir's turn to look shocked. "You mean the ones beyond the Great House? Those are the ones Gandalf referred to? What does this mean then? That he meant for us to find you here? That he meant for us to come to Rivendell?" Elrond absorbed the rush of questions as he thought it through. His finger crept up to his lips in his old habit as he turned ideas this way and that. "Gandalf passes through Rivendell on his journeys both north and south, he is a frequent guest and has his own suite of rooms here. He keeps us informed of the comings and goings of the outside world. I wonder why he did not mention you to me when he was here a few weeks ago." They thought about their new situation in light of this news. Gandalf had allowed Elrond to make the final judgment of Talamir's skills by his secrecy.
"I was going to ask you to stay with us, to cast your lot in with the Rangers and use Rivendell as a base for your patrols. We need every pair of eyes and hands we can gather to watch for the coming darkness. Now Gandalf seems to have endorsed you by sending you my way. You are a good and careful scout and your intelligence is considerable.
As the head of your family, you must decide about Dorimal and Yanala, but they are both welcome to stay with us as well. The Border guards always benefit from fresh soldiers on patrol. If Yanala chose another path, her training in the medical arts would benefit Galenbrethil and Cirgalad in the greenhouses. There is always room in Imladris for more hands and new skills."
He sat back and watched this heavy request fall on the young man's shoulders. "Why don't you think about it and we can speak of it later." The warm wall relaxed his tired back as he leaned against it with folded arms. As he watched Talamir think in reserved silence he thought of how a few words could affect the course of a life. He thought of the power of written words, words like: "Prepare to receive and host the combined armies of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men at Imladris." Simple spoken words like: " I love you", "I must leave now," and "Please stay," carried the weight of mountains in their meanings. He remembered an evening at sea when he learned that soft weapons pierced the heart as effectively as steel in the word "Yes".
Talamir finally rose and said, "I must speak with the others. We will take counsel as we have pledged our lives together. Dorimal will want to stay, Yanala I cannot speak for." Elrond nodded, "A wise decision, and I expected no less from you." Come to me when you wish to speak of this further. I will say nothing to anyone else without your permission. He watched the slender figure open the gate and descend the stairs. He thought of where they might live, if they could pry Dorimal out of the stables. He was fairly certain they would stay. Gandalf had planted seeds for this day, seeds that blossomed this very evening. He leaned back in the dark and quiet space and closed his eyes. He was glad winter was ending, and welcomed the Stirring Time in the days ahead.
The End
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