Son of the Evening Star

[Curufin]

Discussion thread is here. (http://www.entmoot.com/showthread.php?t=14746)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silence, then screams. Mother! Darkness, blindness...mother! Where was mother? Elros...Elros would know...he left the house to find the village on fire, and death and destruction around him. He cried out for his mother, but to no avail. He knew not where she was, and father had gone away a long time ago. Running...running...he felt searing pain in his feet as they snagged a thistle in the darkness and he let out a screech as tears ran down his cheeks. MOTHER! Where was mother? Where was Elros..?...strong arms lifted him from the ground, but it was not mother!!! He screamed, and recieved a swift blow to his face that silenced him quickly...he looked back to see the village burning as the screams faded in the distance...

Elrond awoke in a cold sweat, and rose from his bed, passing to the next room and pouring himself a glass of water, drinking it quickly in an attempt to purge the memories from his mind. It was quiet and peaceful here in Imladris, but that did not stop the demons of the past from haunting his dreams.

He went outside and clutched the railing, looking over the picturesque valley around him, then up at the sky. Eärendil had not yet set, and when he beheld that shining star, his heart bled in sadness and regret. He was proud of his father's bravery, but he could not help but wonder, in his darker moments, if his parents ever thought of him.

Elros was dead - a mortal death from which there was no hope of return - and while his sons and descendents lived on, they thought of Elrond as little more than a kindly uncle who lived in a secluded valley and fostered them on occasion. And Elrond was alone.

A mist was rising from the river, indicating that the morning was not far off. Elrond often found himself awake this time of morning, pacing his room or watching the sky for some sense of the danger he could not place. He would have to speak to Gil-Galad about it in the future - certainly the High King of the Noldor would know more of the dangers of this world than he did. Something was brewing, something so terrible it chilled him to think of it.

He crossed to the Hall of Fire, where he could still faintly hear the sound of music. He went inside, his dark eyes briefly blinded by the light of the room, and sought out his messenger, who was sitting listening to a lovely young woman sing.

"Boy," he said, placing his hand on his shoulder, "I need you to ride ahead to Lindon, post haste, and tell the High King that I urgently need to speak with him, and will be arriving shortly to do so. It is a matter of great importance, and I need you to be swift."

The boy rose and hurried out.

Elrond's eyes darted around the room, which had fallen silent at his words, and at the fear and worry they betrayed. He forced a smile at the few people who were watching him, and made back to his private chambers. He was in no mood for music.

Tall and dark-haired, Elrond's features hearkened back to many of his ancestors. When angry, his face was eerily reminiscient of Fingolfin and Turgon, and when he smiled, the beauty of Lúthien shone in his eyes. And on top of that was a touch of the ruggedness of the Houses of Hador and Bëor. Now, his hair was loose around his face, and rumpled from sleep. He was barefoot, his blue dressing gown pulled tightly around him. With a sigh, knowing that sleep would not return to him, he cast off his dressing gown and dressed in a silver tunic with deep blue embroidery, and blue leggings. He laced the cross-garters and pulled his hair back into simple queue. Dressed, he went back into the Hall of Fire. He was in no mood for music, but he did not wish to cause his people undue alarm.

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

All was queit in Lindon. High king Gil-Galad brushed his horse after retuning from a long days hunt. Suddenly, a boy ran up to him. "My lord!" said the boy bowing, "I have an urgent message for you from King Elrond." "Very good." said Gil-Galad looking puzzeled. "Leave it here."

[Curufin]

The letter was short, but there was no mistaking its point.

My liege, the letter said in Elrond's tight script.
All is not well. I beg the honour of your presence in Imladris at your earliest convenience so that this matter may be discussed with more privacy than a letter allows.
Yours in haste,
Elrond Eärendilion

[Willow Oran]

"Elrond!" Glorfindel hailed his friend from the far end of the Hall, "Good to see you decided to join us after all! Come, sit and enjoy the music."

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

Gil-Galad looked up. " All was not well? What did he mean? " Gil-Galad readied his horse and swords and spear. "And now." he said, waving the stable-boys out of the way. "We ride to Rivendell! Away! For the lord Elrond requires my aid!" And with that, he was off to Rivendell.

[Curufin]

At Glorfindel's call, Elrond looked up, finding his friend easily in the crowded hall. There were not so many golden-haired elves, after all. Sighing, and attempting to hide his distress and unease, he crossed the hall towards him, joining him closer to the musicians.

'Glorfindel,' he said with a tight smile, hoping that he was not doing as bad at hiding his feelings as he felt. 'Dawn comes, and yet the music continues. I see that business in Rivendell will start late tomorrow.' He smiled, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel's mood was already light, he hadn't slept, but had spent the night lost in the music and tales sung through the night.
He laughed at Elrond's remark, knowing that a lack of sleep would hardly stop the elves of Rivendell from going about their business,"You mean today," he said, then caught the tell-tale tightness around Elrond's mouth, "You didn't wake for music. Shall we walk?"

[Curufin]

Elrond hesitated a moment. He had always been rather private, and not quick to take counsel. It had always seemed safer to keep his troubles within rather than to broadcast them to the world.

'Indeed,' he said slowly, nodding as if to convince himself. 'Indeed, we shall walk.'

With that, he made from the Hall of Fire, heading to the stairs that led deeper into the valley. As he walked, he kept his back to the west, and his eyes away from the bright star that was nearing the western horizon.

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel watched, amused, as his lord navigated the steps. Elrond was going to great lengths to avoid looking west, sidling down the stairs at an awkward, nearly sideways angle. After nearly two millenia Glorfindel had grown used to deciphering Elrond's moods and he could tell that at the moment his friend was troubled and stubbornly keeping the troubling thoughts to himself. This silence would not do.
Stepping lightly to catch up, Glorfindel threw an arm about Elrond's shoulders and deliberately drew him around till the two of them were walking west along the valley, "Your father is lingering in the sky this morning," he said and waited for a response. Nothing. Glorfindel sighed and stopped, "You wake early and agitated and immediately send an urgent message to Gil Galad, you refuse to even look at Gil-Estel and you are being rather more taciturn than usual, Elrond what is wrong?"

[Curufin]

'Gil-Estel!' he said finally, a faint note of bitterness in his voice. 'To you, perhaps.'

His mind returned briefly to the nightmare from which he had awakened so abruptly, but he shook his head adamantly to dispel the memory.

'It is nothing...' he began, looking suddenly South, and away from the direction that Glorfindel had faced them. He knew, however, that he had committed himself to sharing his troubles the moment he had invited Glorfindel for a walk. His friend's stubbornness and persistence were legendary, and Elrond knew that he would not let him be until all was aired.

'I had a dream last night. Of the attack on the Mouth of the Sirion. I have not dreamed of such things in many years, and I fear that this dream is a portent...'

He shuddered, afraid his friend would not understand his unease. There was nothing directly that had made him send for Gil-galad, but he felt the need of the High King's presence. Perhaps he would know more.

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

Gil-Galad looked up the steps to see Glorfindell and Elrond coming twords him. "Well! If it isn't my favorite princes...I mean...kings!" he said streaching out his arms to Eldond and Glorfindell.

[Willow Oran]

Since Elrond had sent for the High King nearly a month ago Glorfindel had watched his mood become more and more somber, despite his efforts to distract Elrond towards lighter thoughts. Failure to cheer his lord aside, Glorfindel continued to insist that they walk in the garden each morning and that Elrond tell him at least a few of his worries.

Now, Glorfindel wondered just what Elrond had said in that letter, and if it was more urgent than he had let on, or if Gil Galad had just been itching to get out of Lindon to have come in such haste and with no escort present, though he suspected they would be close behind.

It was good to see him though, Glorfindel smiled in greeting and laughed at Gil Galad's dramatic address, "Kings, my lord? Have you grown tired of your crown? Elrond is your man if you want an heir, he does well as your vice-regent here, but leave me out of talk of crowns, the very idea gives me a headache!"

[Curufin]

Elrond looked up at Gil-Galad as well, bowing to him slightly.

'Indeed, my lord, I am no such King, though I am the descendant of several, and, indeed, the brother of one. I am happy that you have arrived so quickly. Glorfindel, please do join us in the Hall of Fire? There is much to discuss, and I would have you there.'

[Willow Oran]

"Gladly," said Glorfindel, "But with your leave, my lords, I'll go ahead of you and have refreshments brought, I am certain that one of you is already hungry," he bowed slightly to Gil Galad, "And the other will have us closeted for so long that he and I will be."

[Curufin]

Elrond nodded at Glorfindel as he offered to take care of refreshment. He had no appetite at present, but it would be inhospitable not to offer food and drink to their guest, especially to such a prominent and important one as Gil-Galad.

'Very well. We shall join you there presently.'

When Glorfindel had left, he turned to the King, his face serious.

'There is much to speak of, my leige, and I fear that not all of it is good.'

[Willow Oran]

The words 'very well' had hardly left Elrond's lips and Glorfindel took off running, just for the joy of it. Fields and waterfalls were passed by, blurred by his speed, and he arrived at the kitchens in the back of the house with barely a sign of exertion.

After asking a pretty elleth to have an early lunch sent to the Hall of Fire and to let the housekeeper know that the High King had arrived and would be residence for an undetermined amount of time, Glorfindel left the kitchens and went (walking this time) to the stables in the front, where he saw to it that the King's horse would taken care of, and warned the stablemaster to expect more horses when the escort caught up with their liege.

Finally, he went up to his rooms and changed into a clean robe, if Elrond was intent on being serious, then Glorfindel would appear respectable, and then returned to the Hall of Fire where Elrond and Gil Galad were waiting.

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

"Now then." said Gil Galad, sitting down "What did you want to talk to us about, my friend?"

[Curufin]

'Many things,' Elrond said slowly, clutching his hands behind his back. 'But most of all I wished to hear what you know of the growing shadow in the East. Have tidings reached Lindon, my leige? I know little, but my heart forbodes that Sauron will not remaine quiet for long.'

He paused.

'Shall we then join Glorfindel in the Hall of Fire? I am sure he has stories to share of what he has met while on patrol in the forests north and east of here.'

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

"I belive we should. You know how he gets when he's waiting."

[Curufin]

'Very well.'

Elrond hesitated, allowing the High King to go first, then followed him in the direction of the Great Hall. When he arrived, his eyes sought out Glorfindel and he beckoned him to come.

'Tell the King, Glorfindel, of what you have seen.'

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel joined Elrond and Gil Galad and the three sat around a table that had been brought into the Hall for their use.
At this time of day only the greatest of the fires was lit, the one that had never been allowed to fully extinguish since the Hall had been built in that first, beseiged year, and the Hall was empty of all but them.
Glorfindel unrolled a map of Rivendell and the surrounding wilds that he had grabbed from his rooms as an after thought and began to point out areas where hostile creatures had been encountered.
"See here where I've marked the paths that lead into the valley," he said, "And then these areas marked in red are the places where we've seen enemies. Mostly wolves, a few orcs... spies, we think. You see the pattern on the map?
All are still quite far from the entrances to the valley, but they form a rough arc around it. It seems as though searches for our location have been renewed, for this pattern is very similar to what we saw from the Enemy's scouts during the seige.
Since we know Sauron is still a prisoner of Numenor, the source of these spies, if that is what they are, needs to be acertained, for it may mean that we have a new enemy to contend with or that our old one is gathering power again and is not so much a prisoner as Ar-Pharazon believes."

[Curufin]

'So you see, my liege, there is a darkness brewing. We know not yet how serious or dangerous it may be, or what it forebodes, but it is a darkness nonetheless, and something that must be faced before it is allowed to grow powerful.'

Elrond stopped for a moment, looking at Glorfindel, and then at his king.

'Perhaps we should also send for those of the Dúnadan who are still faithful? This darkness concerns them as well.'

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

"Good point." said Gil Galad, looking grim. "I shall send for my scouts to investigate this darkness and call the Dunadan."

[Curufin]

'Very well,' said Elrond, sitting back in his chair, his ebony hair catching the light from the fire as he looked pensively at Glorfindel's chart. 'I suppose it is all that can be done - for now.'

He paused for a moment, thinking deeply, then looked over at Glorfindel and Gil-Galad.

'So that is all for tonight, then. Glorfindel has ordered a chamber made up for you, my liege, and I expect you to alert me immediately if all is not exactly to your taste. For myself, I think I shall take some air. I am not in the mood for the warmth of the fire tonight.'

He bowed deeply to his king, and excused himself, stepping out to the balcony that overlooked the river valley. He face east, away from the westering sky and the twinkling of Gil-estel, clearly troubled.

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel sighed, re-rolling the map, "He has been like that for the whole month," he told Gil-Galad, frustration marring the usually amiable face, "Brooding. He doesn't sleep well, he doesn't eat well, he insists on forsaking company to wander on his own through the halls and gardens, clearly distressed by some heavy thoughts but refusing to share that burden."
He sighed again and rested his chin on his arms, folded upon the table, looking mournfully up at the King, "They are, of course, his thoughts to be distressed by," Glorfindel continued, tone implying his disgust at his inability to vanquish thoughts as well as monsters, "But his sorrowing moods spread through the house and there seems to be nothing I can do to relieve it."

[Varnafindë]

Rameldir was on his way back to Imladris. He and a select group of his best archers had been out on a short mission towards the south. There had been rumours of Orcs being spotted. They had indeed found a band of Orcs and eliminated them. Was he just being gloomy, or had there really been more of them lately? If they had to fight lots of Orcs eventually, he was glad that he had his archers well trained. They were enough to form a considerable part of Elrond's army - if he needed an army again.

Rameldir thought back to the time when they had founded Imladris. As commander of Gil-galad's archers, he had been sent with Elrond to attack Sauron in Eregion. It hadn't been a success. Thanks to the Dwarves, they had survived - barely - and been able to retreat; which was when they had gone all the way up to that easily defendable valley that Rameldir had discovered some centuries earlier and shown to his friend and kinsman. After a siege, they had had help from Gil-galad, who again had had help from the Numenoreans. Elrond and Rameldir had stayed at Imladris ever since, making it a haven for the Elves, as well as a centre for learning, lore and music.

At this time of day it was a bit early for any stars to be seen. But when he was thinking of the past, his thoughts went all the way back to the time when his friend Eärendil - who now was sailing among the stars - instead was playing among the boys in Gondolin. Rameldir had been only ten, and Eärendil seven, when Gondolin fell. Rameldir had been orphaned, but Eärendil's parents had fostered him, Idril and Rameldir's mother being second cousins. Together they had lived at the Mouth of Sirion, until the colony was attacked and Eärendil's family had been scattered. Rameldir had instead stayed with Gil-galad, his cousin, son of the uncle that he had never met.

The group of archers reached their destination and went their separate ways to refresh themselves after their outing, and to have some refreshments from the kitchen as well. After a light dinner, Rameldir was informed that the High King Gil-galad had arrived that day, and was resting in his chambers. Rameldir decided that he would talk to him the next day, if they didn't meet in the Hall of Fire after supper. Instead he went outside for some fresh air - and to watch the stars.

They were out now. He stared up at the Evening Star. Thinking of Eärendil made him both happy and sad. Happy that his friend had been able to accomplish his mission and bring aid to his people and to all of Middle-earth. Sad that he wouldn't meet him again until the end of Arda ...

He heard steps, and realised that Elrond was walking a bit further along on the balcony.

[Curufin]

Lost in his thoughts, Elrond was nearly upon Rameldir before he realized he was there. When he noticed him, he stopped abruptly, raising his grey eyes to meet those of his father's friend.

'Rameldir,' he said evenly. He had known the elder Elf for a long time, but his feelings upon meeting him again were always confused. He trusted him with his life, and knew that he always held his best interests at heart, but there were too many memories, too many feelings mixed up with his presence. He almost felt like a child again when Rameldir was around, which was an uncomfortable feeling, to say the least.

'Good evening. I did not know that you had returned.'

[Varnafindë]

"My Lord," Rameldir answered, bowing to the Lord of Imladris. "A good evening to you, too. We only returned a couple of hours ago. But we did accomplish our mission. There were indeed Orcs where they said they had been spotted. There aren't any left now, though."

As so often - more and more often over the last years - he felt that Elrond wasn't quite comfortable in his presence. There was never anything he could pinpoint accurately - Elrond never expressed any unfriendliness towards him, and he had never felt that he was not trusted. On the contrary. But there was some uneasiness, and he had tried many times to find a reason for it.

The only reason he had been able to come up with, was to look back to Elrond's ancestors. Elrond was descended from Fingolfin, who had been ambitious and proud, and always worried that his half-brother would try to push him out of his position. What if Elrond thought that Rameldir might try to push him out of his position? As Gil-galad's cousin, there could be some ground for thinking that Rameldir might want the lordship of Imladris - but nothing was further from his mind. Rameldir descended from Finarfin, who had always stayed out of the quarrels between his brothers.

But did Elrond realise that there was nothing to fear? If things came to a peak, he might have to talk to him about it. But as long as he wasn't sure, Rameldir would rather not raise the issue.

"I was told that the High King has arrived today," he said. "Is there any message?"

[Curufin]

'None,' Elrond said simply. 'Glorfindel and I shared our fears of the growing darkness and the growing prevalence of Orcs, and we have agreed to look into it further. That is all we have decided as of yet.'

He crossed his arms and turned to look out over the darkened valley yet again, finding himself at a loss for words. He often found himself at a loss near Rameldir, who had known his father far better than he ever would. He couldn't help but wonder if he judged him: if he held him against Eärendil's standard, and found him lacking. For what had he done, truly? Elros had been someone, had done something. The kings of men would always have a touch of their blood because of him. But what of himself? He had no glorious deeds to prove himself. He was well-read and a master of lore. He had inherited healing skills from his great-great grandmother. But other than that? Nothing. Did Rameldir think that he was wasting his birthright? Was he ashamed of him, as he was quite sure his father would be?

He sighed, clutching the railing until his knuckles went white.

[Varnafindë]

Rameldir noticed Elrond's knuckles go white around the railing. He wanted to say, 'Don't worry, I'm not going to ask the High King to put me in charge instead of you.' He found something else to say instead.

"I have shared the same fears over a period of time. Even more so during these last two days. We've had peace - at least relatively speaking - for several centuries. Perhaps it won't last much longer. I would be sad to see it go - I'm no warrior at heart."

He sighed.

"War must be," he said. "But I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness - not that I could touch it if I did - nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: Imladris, our home."

[Curufin]

'I worry most for the children,' Elrond said, his voice soft and distant. 'War is even more difficult when the horrors effect those too young to truly understand them. They become but more demons to haunt the mind; more phantoms to lurk in the deepening shadows.'

He turned suddenly to face Rameldir.

'And adults often lose not only their lives, but their minds, thinking that there are things greater and more important that must be accomplished; some transcendental truth for which all else can be sacrificed. And then they are lauded as heroes, and that they have sacrificed forgotten. Or, perhaps I should say 'they that they have sacrificed.'"

He turned away, his eyes gleaming in some long withheld emotion that he was desperately attempting to master.

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

Gil Galad stared at the fire and thought hard. He then got up, ran over to Elrond and said- "I have a plan! We must rally our troops. We ride at dawn."

[Varnafindë]

Demons to haunt the mind. Rameldir suddenly remembered the last few seconds of his mother's life again. The memories that rushed to his mind every time he touched a blade, and had made it impossible for him to choose the sword as his weapon. The memories of the Orc blade, cutting her down - he gave a shudder.

"We were both hit hard by war in our childhood, you and I," he said. "I was ten when my father died, defending the city - my mother at least died defending me, giving me time to escape. She sacrificed herself for my sake - would you say my father sacrificed me for the city's sake? And you, you were only six, when -"

He stopped. The implications of what his friend had just said, suddenly hit him, and he didn't know what to say.

Before he could find words, they were interrupted.

[Willow Oran]

"Gil-Galad! Wait..." Glorfindel followed him, laughing, onto the balconey, "Pay our lord no mind, Elrond, I did not warn him of the strength of the wine!"

Glorfindel turned to Gil-Galad, who seemed inclined to take offense at this interpretation of his announcement, "You've only just arrived and we've been poor hosts in keeping you inside this stuffy hall," that description was a gross exaggeration, but Glorfindel plowed on,
"and plying you with strong wine when surely you would prefer to rest after your ride. Come, I'll remind you of the way to your rooms and we will indeed ride at dawn, around the borders of the valley, I'll give you a tour of our defenses as they stand..."

Glorfindel's soothing voice trailed back into the house as he led the tipsy king upstairs leaving Elrond and Rameldir alone again.

[Curufin]

Elrond was thankful for the interruption, and by the time Gil-Galad had been removed, he hoped that Rameldir had forgotten the conversation sufficiently to let it pass. He had been getting too close.

Turning away from the elder Elf, he started back inside, in the direction of his chambers. He had spent many late nights speaking with Rameldir there, and although he did not feel much like spilling his heart tonight, he supposed that if he had to do such a thing, he would prefer to do it in the privacy of his own room.

Sitting rather heavily in the window seat, his back towards the western sky, Elrond crossed his arms across his chest rahter defensively, facing Rameldir with a rather stern expression on his face. Although he did not know it, he looked very much like his father at this moment. It was a defensive posture that both used when they did not want to speak further.

'What is it you wish of me, Rameldir? Speak quickly. I have much to concern me at the present.'

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel did not go to rejoin Elrond and Rameldir after seeing Gil-Galad to bed. Whatever they had to say to each other did not require his presence and, loathe though he was to admit it, Rameldir made him uncomfortable as no other elf he had met since being reborn could.

It was the age thing, he thought as he entered the study he and Elrond shared, the sensation of being suddenly younger than a person whom he had last seen as a small child was disconcerting. A bit like being drunk...

It wasn't an issue with Gil-Galad only because he had never met Gil-Galad during the First Age and it was an advantage to be technically no older than Elrond, for he doubted the Peredhel would have warmed to an older companion as quickly, if at all.

...but the off-kilter, slightly out of focus discord in expectation that he experience with Rameldir was just weird. He always expected to see the young cousin he had known, rather than the experienced survivor that he was coming to know. An uncomfortable reminder of the centuries he had missed.

Glorfindel sighed and sat at his desk, picking up in the paperwork that seemed to breed in these moderately peaceful stretches from where he had left off the night before.

[Varnafindë]

When Elrond left, Rameldir had a distinct feeling that he was meant to follow, so he did. He trailed behind the other until they got to Elrond's own chambers, where they had had many deep conversations earlier. If at all possible, there would be another one tonight.

Why had he never made the connection before? Was it just because Elrond had never been as frank before? The events had become blurred in his mind, because the attack on the Havens of Sirion had been such a turning point in his own life. But that was of course not the whole picture ...

If he wanted a deep conversation, though, he would have to defy Elrond. That posture didn't bode well. He reminded him of Eärendil. So much it almost hurt.

"First of all I want to ask your forgiveness," Rameldir said. "For what I said out there just now. And for probably having had that attitude for years. I was about to say that you were six when you lost your family. And in a way you were. I suppose Sirion is the event that has stuck in my mind. I was less than forty years old, living in your father's palace after Tuor and Idril had left. I'll never forget how Maedhros' servants held me back when I tried to defend you and your brother. I was young, I had no sword, only my dagger - my bow was no use. They didn't even fight me, they just took my dagger away and held me while they were carrying you off."

He swallowed a couple of times before he went on.

"Yes, that was the day when your family was shattered," he said. "But it was not the day when you lost your father! I should have remembered enough to make that connection. You couldn't have been more than two when he departed - I never saw your mother truly happy after that.
He didn't go only to accomplish something important, Elrond. He was always restless. It was Tuor who started it. At the feast in memory of the fallen of Gondolin, he made your father a song about how Ulmo had called him at Nevrast. It awoke the sea-longing in both of them. I still remember the song, although I've never felt the sea-longing myself - I believe my doom lies elsewhere. You remember Tar-Aldarion? Your father was much like him."

He hesitated a little, before continuing, looking sternly at his friend.

"But I see now how you must have felt that he sacrificed you," he said. "You should tell me about it."

[Curufin]

'Of course I remember Tar-Aldarion,' Elrond snapped. 'He was my great-great-great-great nephew, after all.'

He turned and looked out the window. Was he to have to face the abandonment of Elros tonight as well?

'Why should I tell you, Rameldir? These feelings are mine and mine alone. As for the sea, I feel no such longing.'

That was not entirely true. He had felt the call of the sea years before, but had resisted it, as the memory of the sea for him was one of bitterness and loss. It was the sea which had taken his family from him - even sundering him from his only brother.

[Varnafindë]

"As for your feelings being yours and yours alone - yes, I know that you've been keeping them like that for rather a long time now," Rameldir answered. "And a lot of good it has done you. You're a healer, right? When your patient claims that his boil is his and his alone, you still insist on opening it to relieve the pressure and get the pus out.
I heard bitterness in your words out there, my friend. And bitterness can hurt you just as much as an infested wound. Even when there is good reason for it. I'm not saying there is none."

He went over to the window to stand next to Elrond. He looked up at the evening star.

"Your father was an adventurer, you see," he said. "Not primarily a warrior. He wanted the Valar to bring peace to Middle-earth - through war, which was inevitable, but in the end peace. The same work which you have continued. You've made Rivendell a haven of peace - even if it started as a haven in rather rough seas. Noone could have carried out what you've done, better than you - I certainly couldn't."

There, he thought. Now I've said it. He shouldn't believe now that I want to usurp his place. If only he believes I'm telling the truth.

"If your father can see you, I'm sure he would agree with me," he added. "He would have been proud of you."

[Curufin]

Elrond hugged himself tightly, finally raising his eyes to look at the star.

'Do you think...'

He stopped, his voice quieter and sounding much younger.

'Am I anything like him?' He paused. 'I can't remember him, Rameldir. At all. I have no memories to remember him by. Nothing. I don't even know what he looked like.'

[Varnafindë]

"He looked a lot like you," Rameldir said. "Even though you have much of your looks from your mother's side as well. From Luthien, some say - I never saw her, but I believe that Elwing had a fair share of her grandmother's beauty. But even more than his looks, you have his mannerisms. The way you sit down in a chair, for instance - I recognize his exact movements. And " - dared he say it - "the way you go all defensive when you don't want to talk. You remind me so much of him then."

[Curufin]

Elrond frowned, and stared at his feet for some time, unsure of exactly what to say. What did you say to a man who knew your father better than you did; who had more memories of him than you would ever know? Elrond had always felt uncomfortable around those who would speak to him of his father's glory - many of whom had never met him. What did they know of it? Perhaps he did great deeds in persuading the Valar to come to Middle-earth, but was it the mark of a hero to abandon his family?

'Yes, yes, very well,' he said a bit sharply. 'Was there something else you wished to speak to me about?'

[Varnafindë]

Rameldir felt as if the other had slapped his face. He very rarely raised his voice at Elrond, but now he did.

"So you think we've exhausted the first topic?" he asked. "I see - very clearly - that you don't want to talk about it, but I hold to what I said. It's not doing you any good.
I'll give you two options. Either you lance your boil and get some of that bitterness out - I promise to listen. I was only young then, but I was old enough to see your mother's sorrow.
Or, if you prefer, I can try to share some more memories of your father. Before he became Gil-estel."

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

Gil Galad awoke from his wine-induced slumber. He walked very slowly out of his room. Great he thought Now I have a headache.

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel tiredly ran a hand through his hair as he set aside the last document that had needed reviewing. Paperwork always did have a sedative effect on him... something Elrond had quickly realized and exploited.

Unfolding himself slowly from the chair, Glorfindel blew out the candle, then went over and stuck his hand out the window. A warm night, he would take to the gardens rather than returning to his rooms. He pushed the window open wider and swung himself outside, landing lightly on the branch of the tree which grew beside the wall.
He would never dare this on the side of the house facing the waterfall... that was a lie, actually. He had dared this on the waterfall side, and explaining the resulting injuries (thankfully light) to Elrond the next morning had proved interesting, but not worthy of repeat.

He moved through the garden, a fluid shadow, often taking to the trees, and laughed to himself to think that if any whom he had known in Gondolin could see him now, they would likely mistake him for one of the Sindar.
There had been few uncultivated trees in Gondolin. That thought sobered him and he stopped, sliding down to sit balanced on the branch, thoughtful as he was rarely still enough to be.
He had gathered, from the staccato conversations that he had been able to persuade Elrond into (he hoped Rameldir was having better luck) over the past month, that it was his memories, or lack thereof, of Eärendil that were bothering him.
Glorfindel had sympathized, but been unable to offer much comfort. He had died when the Mariner was a boy of seven, and returned after the man had spent over a millenia as a star; Eärendil was as much an abstract to him as he was to Elrond and there were times (after which Glorfindel genrally got himself extremely drunk) when he had caught himself forgetting that Elrond was, in fact, Eärendil's son, and not Eärendil grown to adulthood. It was a mistake, Glorfindel knew, that one could only make if one was missing the acquaintance of a whole generation of one's family.

He grimaced at the thought and settled back, leaning into the tree and, determinedly thinking of better memories, fell into restful meditation.

[Curufin]

'I have no need of lancing boils,' he said stubbornly. 'If healing needs to be done, I shall do it myself, in my own time.'

He turned away from Rameldir, and poured himself a cup of wine, drinking it slowly.

'If you wish to speak to me of my father, then I cannot stop you.'

[Varnafindë]

Rameldir brought down his fist on the table hard enough to make the wine decanter do a jump.

"I said I gave you two options, and that means you should choose between them, not just sulk and avoid the issue!" he yelled.
"If healing needs be done? It has needed being done for years! I just haven't been quite sure what the disease was before tonight. In this case, you're the patient, not the healer. Some healer you would be, to let the patient decide whether he is ill or not!"

[Curufin]

Elrond whirled on him, his eyes alight with his fury.

'What do you want of me, Rameldir!? What it is it you want? My father is gone! He shall never return and there is nothing you can do to change that! You cannot take my pain away. And more to the point, I am not Eärendil! You cannot mold me into him, and regain the friend you lost! I am someone different. My own person. So leave me be!'

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

Gil Galad stumbled out of his room to see Glorfindell standing still. "Do we have any healing herbs? I've got the worst pain in my head."

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel had not stayed restful in the tree's embrace for long. He was in the mood for company, though not in large numbers as he would find were he to return to the Hall of Fire at this hour.
Normally, he might have sought out Elrond and attempted to loosen his friend's tongue with some of that strong wine; but he suspected that Elrond was still engaged in conversation (or perhaps argument by now) with Rameldir. No point in intruding there.

He had almost given up the idea of anything entertaining and was on his way to his rooms when Gil-Galad most unexpectedly came out of his rooms and asked, "Do we have any healing herbs? I've got the worst pain in my head."
Glorfindel smiled, mischieviously glowing just a little brighter than the King might find comfortable in his clearly hungover state, "But of course!" He replied, "Elrond is a healer. Come with me, I know just the thing."
'The Thing' was a rather foul tasting hangover cure that Glorfindel had learned of from the men dwelling in Imladris. It worked, but was not something he would ever drink willingly. The face Gil-Galad would make trying to choke it down would be worth the scolding, Glorfindel thought, smirking as the led the unsuspecting King towards the kitchens.

[Varnafindë]

Rameldir stared at Elrond.

"Mold you into him?" he repeated. "I never wanted to mold you into your father! I know that he'll never return. He is not the friend I want to regain. You are! You've been my friend for far longer than he was. I was three when he was born and less than forty when he departed. You and I have known each other for centuries.
What do I want of you? I want to have you back to your normal self! Something has been growing on you for years now - and the last few weeks have brought it to a peak. I don't know whether it's got to do only with your father, or whether the growing trouble outside Imladris is a more important part of it. I only know that something is gnawing at you so much that it affects even those around you. At least it affects me. For the others here I can only guess. But I cannot understand why you're refusing to open up and share your troubles!"

[Curufin]

'Some things are better left unspoken, for once they are said they cannot be unsaid.' Elrond said in an undertone, clasping his hands tightly in front of him.

He was silent for a long moment before continuing.

'A shadow grows in my mind, Rameldir. A dark shadow. I fear this peace will not last for long.'

[Varnafindë]

"Some things spoken don't need to be unsaid, though," Rameldir said, calmer now after waiting for the other to speak. "But if your most current concern is with the situation around us, I can appreciate that."

Perhaps, he thought, it will be necessary to take first things first. At least he's finally saying something about why his mood has been so dark lately.

"A shadow, you say?" he asked. "Would you say, then, that the increase in Orc activity that I have noticed of late, could be more than mere coincidence? I would hope for it to subside again - but I've also feared that it might not, and that our peace might not last. My archers would be ready, should they be needed. But what might be behind such trouble?"

[Curufin]

'A great deal could be behind it, and my mind fears that it is something far darker than we imagine. But I know nothing for certainty. I would speak to those wiser than myself. The Lady Galadriel, perhaps would know, as she is closer to the east.'

[Varnafindë]

"Darkness in the east?" Rameldir asked. "There has been darkness in the east before - of the very darkest kind. If it's something of that sort you fear, then I agree with you that Lady Galadriel's opinion of it would be worth seeking. And then I would understand better why it's been gnawing on you. It ... it could be enough to gnaw on the merriest of wood-elves, even. If they did realise how serious it could be."

[Willow Oran]

"Little did I realize how seriously you would react!" Glorfindel exclaimed as he was forcefully propelled into Elrond's rooms, and the middle of his and Rameldir's doom-laden discussion, by a rather irate King of the Noldor in Exile,
"Pardon our intrusion, Elrond, there was no distracting him this time," Glorfindel apologized even as he ducked behind his lord to evade Gil-Gald's reach, "Our liege has a headache and no sense of humor tonight."

[Willow Oran]

-Double Post-

[Curufin]

Honestly, Elrond was glad of the interruption. Looking from Glorfindel to Gil-galad, he could see easily that his King had enjoyed a bit too much of the wine, and perhaps a bit more of Glorfindel's cure.

He clasped his hands together and raised an eyebrow, trying not to show his amusement as Glorfindel sought refuge behind him.

'You flee from our King, Glorfindel - he who faced a Balrog at the Fall of Gondolin? And now the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower uses a mere Peredhil as a shield? Oh, how the Ñoldor have fallen!'

[Willow Oran]

"I was permitted to fight back against the balrog," Glorfindel protested, laughing and yet keeping Elrond firmly between himself and Gil-Galad,
"You would take it amiss if I were to push our king over a cliff, though in his current state he might not object to pulling me along with him. You are 'merely' good with calming words, my friend, whilst my attempts to shield myself with the same have resulted in his greater wrath!"

[Curufin]

Elrond struggled not to roll his eyes while remaining his dignity in this fiasco. He found Glorfindel's antics highly amusing, and it amused him further that he was feeling that he had been forced into a decidedly paternal role between these two elf-lords - both of which had far more years than he.

'My liege,' he said to Gil-Galad, keeping his face entirely flat and expressionless, 'if you could find it in your noble heart not to slay my humble -' and here he nearly choked, in using that word in reference to one of the Ñoldor - 'servant, I should be most obliged and I shall tend to your needs myself.'

[The Sasquatch of Fangorn]

"As long as you keep that wine away!" said Gil-Galad rubbing his head.

[Willow Oran]

Glorfindel fought the urge to smirk, and tell Gil-Galad that it was his own fault if he drank too much, and not to blame the innocent, and rather good, wine. Such an action would be most unbecoming...
Instead he stepped foreward, still staying close to Elrond, Gil-Galad was tricky at times, and gave an exaggerated bow, "Your," he did allow himself to flash a grin at Elrond, "humble servant will be certain to serve you no wine from now on, my lord."
Straightening, he stepped back, and with a distinct twinkle in his eye, decided to push the tolerance of his kinsmen one last push, "Only," he added, "the finest, stout ale, a treasured gift from our friends in Khazad-Dum, and a far fitter drink for such an illustrious majesty as yourself."

[Varnafindë]

Rameldir kept his mouth shut, and watched the two other elves with a visible grin of amusement. He drank very little himself, and mostly mixed his wine with water, so he usually didn't have problems of the kind Gil-galad was having now - and this just confirmed his belief that his own stance in the matter was a wise one.

He couldn't resist joining Glorfindel in his teasing, though. With a straight face he added, "A treasure indeed - what would we do without friends like those of Khazad-Dum? Their gifts are royal and priceless."

He didn't mention the fact that he had never tasted that ale himself.

[Willow Oran]

"We would have lost much," answered Glorfindel, suddenly serious, "Speaking of our naugrim allies... I hope you haven't forgotten that the new ambassador is due to arrive soon, Elrond. I have the drafts for the trade agreements ready for you to look over before then."

[Varnafindë]

Rameldir just nodded silently. As he had told the others earlier, he would have lost his life if it hadn't been for a Dwarf.

During the battle against Sauron outside of Moria, he had been cut off from the other archers. He had run out of arrows, and with only his dagger as defense, he hadn't expected to survive.

Until he realized that some of the Orcs were fleeing from a Dwarven battle-axe.
Someone in Durin's army, Borin by name, had seen his plight and had come to the rescue. He had managed to cut his way in to the Elf and to get them both out of the throng. Rameldir would never forget the debt he owed Borin and his descendants.

[Willow Oran]

"But business will have to wait till dawn," said Glorfindel, watching Rameldir slip into memory and finally waving a hand before the other elf's eyes,
"Rameldir, are you listening? You should know better than to attempt difficult conversations with Elrond straight upon a return. Do not argue, Elrond, you know you are impossible at times. Is he not, Gil-" Glorfindel stopped as he turned to find an empty space where Gil-Galad had been. He exchanged a puzzled look with Elrond, "He seems to have wandered off. How strange."
Elrond merely shrugged.
"Ah well," Glorfindel recovered from his momentary puzzlement and went on, "I think I will spend the rest of the night outside. The stars are very bright and the air is still warm. I will see you in the morning, my cousins."

[Midge]

In a wood not too far west of the Misty Mountains, Galadriel and her daughter, CelebrÃ*an, had awoken to the peacefulness of the forest. They breakfasted quickly and left their camping-place on horseback. They were searching for someone.

As they rode quietly and swiftly throughout the day, the horses kept getting more and more restless. Galadriel felt it too. She couldn't shake the feeling that something unpleasant was going to happen, and soon. However, she said nothing aloud and just let her daughter and their three-men escort think that the horses were becoming more and more fitful was the slightly worsening weather as the wind picked up, or claustrophobia as the trees became more tightly packed.

Finally, Galadriel knew that she could keep her misgivings quiet no longer without her daughter and men in danger. Leading the group, she halted her horse (though she had an escort, it was mostly to keep brigands away; anything powerful enough to truly threaten Galadriel would more than likely annihilate her escort, and therefore she rode in front of them to protect them) and her followers did likewise.

A twig cracked in the woods ahead of them. Galadriel, feeling her way into the woods, found only a dumb beast making its way through the forest. But the danger was there, close to the beast, but not exactly the beast itself.

________________Commercial____________________

[Varnafindë]

Was that another Dwarven battle axe? Something was waving in front of Rameldir's eyes. A Dwarf's hand?

No, of course not - Rameldir suddenly snapped back to reality. The hand belonged to Glorfindel, not to any of the Dwarves he had known a millennium ago.

Glorfindel was saying something - about conversing with Elrond - yes, he was right. Elrond could be impossible at times.

Apparently, so could Gil-galad, when he had had too much to drink - something that Rameldir hadn't seen very often. But now the High King had just suddenly wandered off! Well, it was getting late anyway. Glorfindel took his leave, and Rameldir decided he might as well do the same.

[Midge]

Trusting her escort and her daughter's powers to at least watch over her, Galadriel tried hard to find what danger lay ahead. She knew that a lot of the problem with danger is not knowing what the danger truly is. Once you know what a danger is, you can begin to know how to fight it and how to protect yourself. She felt further ahead of them, keeping silent and bidding her group to do so as well.

She followed the beast with her mind. It was a beast of prey, not exactly hunting, but waiting. Waiting for what? Then she realized and what she found horrified her. She saw the man she sought, her husband, Celeborn, fighting a band of Orcs. She knew that this battle was not one which would go into history, nor would it mean much to anyone should her husband win. But there were ten Orcs and only one elf, and she could see that they'd somehow taken his bow from him. She found this odd, as she had never known him to be without his weapon before. Instead of watching a terrible scene unfold, she turned in her saddle without moving her horse and whispered to the others what she'd seen. She had her own powers which she was loth to use in such a small circumstance, but would if it came to that. CelebrÃ*an had been taught how to use a bow at a small age, for her mother had felt a shadow over her at her birth which made both Galadriel and Celeborn insist that she be trained nearly as well as one of their own warriors. The escorts were of course, well armed.

Now that Galadriel knew what the situation was, she ordered her men and daughter effortlessly. Each man and CelebrÃ*an took a direction, southeast or southwest, east or west. There they were stationed until Galadriel gave the word, or the Orcs became aggressive and began attacking Celeborn. Galadriel's horse quietly stood directly north of the place where Celeborn was surrounded by Orcs. Then they listened.

"You will not defeat me," Celeborn told the Orcs. "You cannot."

[Midge]

"You will not defeat me," Celeborn told the Orcs. "You cannot."

"HAH!" one of the Orcs burst out. "You are outnumbered and weaponless. How can we not win?" Celeborn stared at the Orc with such a ferocity that the Orc quailed and backed into the group again. The largest Orc admonished him. "Do not underestimate any Elven prisoners we may take. They can disappear with the wind, and hear with their hands. Their minds talk to each other and ... and... " He trailed off, a fearful look overtaking his face.

Galadriel knew the cause of that look. She had entered his mind, and though she found it revolting, she stayed, and she showed him a mind-picture which was meant to scare him. It showed Celeborn standing on his own again, jumping from where he was hunched on the ground. It showed him pulling a fearsome sword from a hidden sheath in his breeches. It was long, longer than Celeborn was tall, and with one strong sweep of the sword, he lopped off the heads of three Orcs. A follow-up thrust with that sword went entirely through another Orc and stabbed the Orc behind him. As the remaining five watched this happen, two smaller Orcs near the back of the group took off running, only to be shot with arrows which came flying from between the trees. Celeborn stared at the largest Orc and the two loyal Orcs standing behind him, saying, "You will not win." With that, the largest Orc saw his own loyal Orcs on either side of him killed with one fell swipe and then Celeborn shoved the long Orc-bane straight through the Orc all the way up to the hilt and drew it out by slicing upward, so that the Orc was effectively cut in half. He shook his head, though his face still held all the fear of that vision.

[Curufin]

It was late, but sleep would not come to the Lord of Imladris. He stood, still as a stone statue, looking over the valley that had been his peaceful home these many years. Things had not gone well, with Rameldir. There were too many things tied up in their relationship. Elrond worried that he expected him to be his father - a father that he had known and that Elrond could scarcely remember. He sighed. He had been to harsh with the man tonight, and he knew it. Deep inside he even regretted it. He owed him an apology.

Sighing, he straightened, and headed towards the chamber that Rameldir always made his own on his sojourns here. He knocked softly, soft enough that he would not wake him had he already turned in for the night.

[Midge]

"Lads, let's kill him now, before he does us any harm!" The large Orc licked his lips, clearly enjoying the thought of ridding the world of the Elf who'd put doubt in his mind. At that, Galadriel took his mind in hers and cried in a fey voice, "Stop! You will not touch him." As the Orcs looked around bewildered for the source of the voice, arrows from four directions around the group of Orcs came flying. Within two seconds, eight Orcs lay dead, one of them the largest. Of the two left, one was the Orc who had spoken out against him earlier. With the Orcs lying around him, Celeborn found new strength. He took an Orc-blade from his nearest fallen enemy and quickly took the two Orcs out with as much dexterity as he had in the Leader Orc's vision. When they were dead, he sank to his knees in weariness. Galadriel and her tiny entourage emerged into sight and Galadriel dismounted in one smooth motion. Her horse was caught by one of the men, but she didn't notice. She ran to Celeborn's side.

"Love, oh, my love! What has happened here?" She held his face close against her chest, giving him thoughts from her to soothe him, images of Valinor and their home under the trees, the quiet in the night which he loved so much and the noises of the night as well: the crickets and the leaves falling, the stars quivering in music which was reminiscent of the music which made the world, the music of the Ainur. She sat like that for a while, and he slept, his cares leaving him as he healed. Galadriel's escort and CelebrÃ*an made a quick camp for the night, for it was obvious that they weren't going to be moving Celeborn for at least a night and the group of trees which surrounded them gave surprisingly good shelter. A small fire was made, and Celeborn slept in Galadriel's arms. The men and the daughter also slept for a few hours; the excitement had exhausted them. But Galadriel stayed awake for the whole night.

[Varnafindë]

Late as it was, Rameldir still didn't feel ready to settle down to sleep right away. The conversation with Elrond had been less than a success - much less. He had made it clear that he didn't think he could take Elrond's place in Imladris, hadn't he? Or hadn't he made it clear enough after all?

And how much did the memories of Eärendil - or Elrond's lack of them - have to do with it all? There was something there that he was only beginning to understand, but he supposed he understood a little more after tonight than he had done earlier ...

At the end they had begun to talk about things that made them both uneasy, though. Strangely, that had eased the conversation. Those were things of the present, things that might be an actual danger, not just uneasy feelings from the past. And this darkness in the east - yes, it was wise of Elrond to seek Galadriel's advice.

Ramedlir sighed and decided to sit down with a book for a while before going to bed. There was a book he had recently found in the library and only looked at briefly. He would read a couple more pages now - it was a highly philosophical work, to give him much work for thoughts, so he only read it a little at a time.

It was about a converse that his great-grand-uncle Finrod had had with a mortal woman - a wise-woman. They were talking about what legends the mortals had about their past, and about the nature of evil - or rather of the nature of the relationship the mortals had had with the Evil One, the Enemy, Morgoth. The wise-woman didn't seem willing to give any details, just sweeping generalisations - unless she was about to do so in the next pages. He would see soon.

Before she had revealed any of those details, though, he was interrupted by a soft knock on his door. He went to open it.

Elrond was outside.