INNOCENCE
by Soledad
Disclaimer:
The characters, the context and the main plot belong to Professor Tolkien, whom I greatly admire. I’m only trying to fill in the gaps he so graciously left for us, fanfic writers, to have some fun. Fíriel still belongs to Deborah. Only the Lady Aquiel belongs to me – and the enigmatic Wandering Company of Gildor.
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter, for implied m/m and m/f content.
Please read Warnings before the Prologue.
Author’s Notes:
Time: year 607, 3rd Age
Summary: Arwen makes her choice.
And once again, I have to bow deeply to the Lady Deborah, officially declared muse of my LOTR-universe, without whom this chapter would never have born. She asked me who Arwen might have been with during all this time, and I felt obligated to answer her question. So, this is the answer… and I hope you haven’t thought of this, otherwise all the fun would be spoiled.
This isn’t really a chapter, because it is about Arwen and her first lover, so I call it an interlude. It ends before Arwen’s Choosing Ceremony however, and indicates nothing of her ongoing affair with her Chosen One (yet), which will be heavily frowned upon by Elrond. The story goes on for about a fortnight.
By the way, someone asked me to leave my short essay about Elrond’s love life online – well, I can’t let it where it was originally posted, in-between two chapters, for that would be very distracting. But when I’m finished with this tale, I will attach it as Appendix A. There also will be an Appendix B for the lovers of totally insignificant background trivia (a sect I’m the high priestress of), while all the names of Gildor’s wandering companions would be listed, with anything that is known about them (like which Elven kindred they belong, what their strengths and weaknesses are, what family relations exist between them and stuff like that); just for the fun of it. :)
INTERLUDE: FIRST CHOICE OF ARWEN, ELVEN PRINCESS
[The 8th day of hrívië, in the year 607 of the Third Age]
The night grew old and the singing and tale-telling in the Hall of Fire slowly came to an end. Arwen regretted this – not that she would have listened to the sweet music of the minstrels that came with Gildor’s company or even to Lindir and Elrohir’s beautiful music, though the two were growing more and more awesome in their skills with the flute and the harp.
But she was distracted tonight, partly because her Time of Choosing was approaching rapidly and she still had not made her First Choice yet, partly because she was watching the guests of her father with interest.
The Members of the Wandering Company settled down for the long winter season in Imladris, and were now wearing richly adorned clothes of Noldorin or Telerin fashion; though a few of them were clad like Wood-Elves, even those robes were finely made. No-one would have mistaken their tall and beautiful women for young males any more, nor their proud and fair men for some homeless wanderers.(1)
Even more profound seemed the change in the appearance of their Lord. Wearing a heavy velvet robe of royal blue over his gold-embroided, pale silk tunic, his gleaming hair artfully braided like a golden coronet, Gildor Inglorion looked like a King of the Elder Days, with the crest of Finrod’s House on his breast; and on his neck he wore a carcanet of gold, set with many gems – a necklace, or more a collar, made of the likeness of Nauglamír, the one and only, made for Finrod by the Dwarves.
Proud and kingly he semed in the eyes of Arwen, even more so than her own father, who displayed his inherited royalty in a less flamboyant manner – and the Lady Aquiel on his side looked like a queen of the Blessed Realm in her silky gown of midnight blue that seemed to float around her slender body, leaving both her shoulders free, to be covered by the gleaming curtain of her unbraided hair only. She seemed unaware of all the awestruck glares aimed at her, talking to Erestor in a friendly manner and deliberately ignoring the disapproving frown of her uncle.
Arwen understood not Gildor’s dislike of Erestor. Surely, her father’s seneschal was of common birth, but it made him no less of a gentle and wise young Elf – or a fierce warrior, if that side of him was needed. She tried to ask Glorfindel about it, but the ancient Elf only shrugged and muttered something about ’the haughtiness of the Finwëans’, without explaining what he meant. So Arwen was on her own in this matter, unless she could get some help from Aquiel, which she very much intended to seek out.
Time and again their eyes met, as if Gildor had felt being watched – mayhap he truly had. One did not spend hundreds of years wandering across Middle-earth without developing very keen senses, even by the measure of Elves. Once he held her eyes captive with his sea-hued ones for a long moment, and Arwen felt herself blushing and turned away, but not before noticing that small, self-content smile in the corner of Gildor’s mouth.
That smile made her furious. How did he dare to smile like that! As if she had glared at him like some silly, lovesick young elfling!
Alas, after a moment of fuming she had to admit – at least to herself – that yes, she actually had glared at him like that.
At least my mouth had not hung open!, she thought, deeply humiliated for a moment. She knew her unusual interest was partly due to her upcoming Time of Choosing; still, it was a behaviour unbecoming of any Elf lady, and even more so of a Princess like her. She forced herself to listen to the Hymn of Varda that had been selected as the final song of this evening and sung by the Lady Aquiel in Quenya, while Elrohir and Lindir played the music to it.
A Fana-losse! Heri silma!
Tári Eari pella Númenye!
Calina men i ranyar
sina mi aldarembea ambar!
Fana-losse, a Varda Elentári,
Calina mí aldarembea ambar!
A Tintalle! Elentári!
Silma hendulya, calima súlya.
Fana-losse, laitammel
Earen pella hairanóriesse.
Len lirimme, a Varda Elentári,
laitalinde hairanóriesse.
A eleni yar rende márya
sílala i Yénesse Alanarya,
telpelossenen laiya
calima mí súrimar sí tye cenimme.
Fana-losse, a Varda Elentári,
telpelosse calima cenimme.
A Elentári! a Tintalle!
Sinome nu i aldali háya
men enyalie mare
silmelyo or i Eari Númenye.
Enyalimme, a Varda Elentári,
silme or i Eari Númenye(2).
Finally the music came to an end. Lindir and Elrohir rose, and together with the Lady Aquiel, they accepted the praise with a smile (well, in Elrohir’s case more with a grin) and left the Hall of Fire together. Erestor, too, took his leave from the Lord and the Lady of the Valley and joined Lindir who was waiting for him in the antechamber, eager to explain some of the fine points of the music that had been made tonight.
Arwen stole a glance at Gildor and saw him scowling slightly. He might have agreed to leave Lindir in Imladris, but he most obviously disliked his nephew-from-afar’s closeness to Erestor.
Their eyes met again, and this time Arwen gave the high-ranking guest a scowl of her own. Why could he not leave Erestor alone? Surprisingly, Gildor rose from his seat with the sleek smoothness of a born predator and crossed the Hall to join her.
’’Have I somehow raised your disapproval, Lady Arwen?’’, he asked; but there was no playful tone in his clear, slightly hard voice.
This was a serious question, and Arwen decided to answer it with equal seriousness.
’’Aye, you have, my Lord. I very much dislike the way you handle poor Erestor’’, she said straight out. ’’’Tis unbecoming of a Lord of your high status – and fully undeserved by him.’’
’’How do I handle him?’’, Gildor inquiered, arching an elegant eyebrow.
He clearly did not understand Arwen’s dismay.
’’Like a servant’’, said Arwen. ’’Like someone who is beneath you.’’
’’Well, actually…’’, the Elf-Lord began, but Arwen interrupted him.
’’He has foster son’s status in our House; but even if he did not, you still would have no right to handle him like you do. Being born to a noble family is an advantage, given to you, not your own doing – so you have no reason to be this haughty.’’
’’You mistake pride for haughtiness, Lady Arwen’’, Gildor said; ’’yet you see not that pride is very important for noble families. It makes us eager to be worthy of the proud traditions of our kind and urges us to the greatest deeds possible.’’
’’And just what greet deeds, pray you, can you praise yourself to have accomplished?’’, Arwen asked pointedly. ’’You fought valiantly in the recent war, I give you that. But many other people did the same, noble and less noble ones… And ever since the fall of Sauron, no-one had heard any tidings of any deeds of yours. You might have been one of the highest-ranking Princes in the court of the High King during the last Age, but right now you are no Lord of aught, not even that of the South Haven, just a restless wanderer.’’
The hard, beautiful face of the Elf-Lord did not betray the least emotion; only in his eyes flickered hurt pride for a short moment.
’’You are right in this, of course’’, he said; ’’the only true home I have ever had would have been Nargothrond, and that was destroyed long before my birth. The time of the Noldorin kingdoms is over, and though after Gil-galad's fall royalty would have been transferred to me (and it would be the birthright of that youngling you raise as a dreamer in this very valley), there is no kingdom more for me to rule, nor followers to lead. This Company I travel with is my only court, and my palace is a plain house in the South Haven’’, he added bitterly.
He took a deep, calming breath ere he fared forth.
’’So forgive me, Lady, if I do not willingly mingle with common people. You might find my pride misplaced, yet ’tis the only thing left of my inheritance. Your father has no title to wear, yet he is King of this enchanted realm. I could wear the title of the ’finwë’(3) with full right; but there is naught for me left to reign over. Even my own flesh and blood has rejected me.’’
’’I understood how that can be hurtful’’, said Arwen thoughtfully, ’’yet it still gives you no right to handle Erestor as you do. And I suspect there is more than just his birth that makes him so… unpleasant in your eyes.’’
’’You are wise beyond your age, Lady Arwen’’, Gildor sighed. ’’I have a personal grudge against him: the simple fact that he succeeded to escape the fall of Eregion while its Lord did not’’; he touched his magnificent necklace lightly. ’’Celebrimbor was no mere cousin for me; he was my closest friend, the last one of a once so great and proud House; and you can see the beauty his art and skill were able to create, even in exile. Evey time I look at your father’s seneschal, I see my dead friend before my eyes.’’
’’Yet you hesitated not to save Erestor’s life in that last battle, or so I am told’’, Arwen said. Gildor shrugged.
’’His death would not have brought my cousin back from Mandos’ Halls. We had already lost too many of our people.’’
Arwen sighed, shaking her head with a smile.
’’You are not an easy Elf to understand, Gildor Inglorion.’’
’’Comes with my advanced age’’, he replied with a grin; ’’and with the ’haughtiness of the Finwëans’, as Master Glorfindel doubtlessly had told you many times. But as curtesy of the one who walks the Earth in the likeness of Lúthien Tinúviel, I shall try to restrain my foolish pride for the time of my staying and be friendly with the common crowd.’’
With that, he leaned over, took Arwen’s face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth, lingering on her lips for an extended moment ere he let go of her and turned on his heals and left, taking no notice of Elrond’s murderous glare from across the Hall.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
[The 25th day of hrívië, in the year 607 of the Third Age.]
Time, as usual, seemed to flow by unnoticed in the enchanted valley of Imladris. The Wandering Company of Gildor Inglorion blended in seamlessly with everyday’s life, willingly taking their part in the labours that had to be made.
There were healers among them who volunteered to help Fíriel and her pupils and could even teach them new things about the one or other herb they had discovered along their long travels, Others knew much about horses, even though they all preferred to travel afoot and touch the flesh of the Earth with every step, and Arwen greatly enjoyed working with them, mostly with Isfin(4), an older and somewhat hard-mannered woman, who had Nandorin blood in her veins and travelled through Eriador during the entire Second Age, and there was naught she would not know about horses.
And they had minstrels among them as well – as it was time-honoured custom among the Wandering Companies, who would travel across the lands and carry the songs and lays and stories from North to South and back.(5) One of them was a Nandor Elf, too, one of the few survivors of the First Age(6), born in Doriath, no less; he even had the privilege to listen to Daeron the Great in his youth and had seen Lúthien with his own eyes.
Orgof(7), for so his name sounded, seemed very impressed with Lindir’s talent and asked for Elrond’s leave to teach him, together with his fellow minstrels: Nuinor(8), a Telerin woman of equally high age and two younger Noldorin males, Melthinorn and Falathar(9).
At first Lindir was very suspicious, but when he understood that there were secrets among minstrels that not even the greatest of lore-masters could have taught him, he finally agreed – and came back from his lessons aglow with amazement, for Orgof knew old lays that had not been sung since the fall of Doriath, and Nuinor was a master of the flute; and he even began to learn how to master the harp from Melthinorn; something Elrond could never argue him into learning, for he always felt he could not reach Elrohir’s skills.
But more importantly, the wandering minstrels knew secret ways to unfold that rare gift only born minstrels possessed: the gift to make things of which they sang appear before the eyes of those that listened.
So, the members of the Wandering Company made themselves useful, as it was their custom when tarrying in a city for a longer periond of time, and the Elves of Imladris enjoyed their company in the long winter evenings. And, truth be told, the one who enjoyed it most was Arwen herself. She had not yet travelled any further than Lothlórien, and the Lady Aquiel proved to be not wise only, but also high-spirited and full of mischief – so very different from her proud and somewhat stiff-necked uncle.
For though Gildor Inglorion had agreeed to leave Lindir in his chosen home, he insisted that the young Elf learnt the proud history of his noble family and be treated according his heritage. Therefore he most indignantly objected to his status as a mere esquire and demanded that Lindir spent a certain amount of time with him, so that he could ’correct the faults in his education’, as he said.
This infuriated both Elrond and Erestor, of course, but Lindir only laughed and granted willingly the wish of his uncle-from-afar – as long as he was assured that he could remain in Imladris.
’’Let him have his way, my Lord’’, he said to Elrond. ’’I can handle him. He is not all that bad as he likes to show off himself. I believe he is lonely; just too proud to admit it. And he is family, after all. Just let him not take me away, I beg you.’’
Elrond reluctantly agreed, and things seemed to go on surprisingly well from that day on, found Arwen, gathering some dried fruits and seed cakes for her ’’ladies’ evening’’ with Aquiel. Ever since the most intriguing house guests arrived, they have planned this little get-together, but could not make it until now.
It was a beautiful, cold winter afternoon, some two hours before sunset; fortunately, cold weather bothered Elves very little, even less so when they wore fur-lined, warm clothes as the two young ladies did, sitting comfortably on Aquiel’s balcony, a crystal bottle of miruvor and two masterfully-cut goblets (the guest-gifts of Gildor, made by the skilled hands of Findobar(10), one of his followers), fruits and cakes in front of them, upon a small, onyx-plated, bronze-legged round table. With other words: they were prepared for a lengthy talk.
’’Why did you want your Choosing Ceremony to be in Mithlond?’’, Arwen asked, after they had spoken a little about their previous journeys and came to things of true interest. ’’Why not in the South Havens where you have spent your whole youth? Or in Lothlórien?’’
Aquiel shrugged.
’’Places are of no importance for the Wandering Companies – though Elostirion is mayhap the most sacred one in Middle-earth. But I wanted to look into the Seeing Stone before making any choice – to see beyond the bent Sea to the Realm that is faultless and everlasting.’’
’’Was it worth such a long journey?’’, Arwen asked. Aquiel nodded, slowly, thoughtfully.
’’There are no words, not even in the Ancient Tongue to describe it…’’, she shot Arwen an inquiring glance. ’’Have you never…?’’
Arwen shook her head.
’’Nay, our family never travels that way. It would be dangerous for us to come near the Sea. Our mortal blood roots us in this Earth deeper than other Elves, save the Silvan folk mayhap, and should the Sea-longing awake in our hearts, it would tear us apart. Not even Father comes near the shores any more, albeit he has already made his final choice, Ages ago.’’
Aquiel thought about this for a moment.
’’It must be hurtful’’, she finally said, ’’to live this close to the Sea and never see it.’’
’’We live not that close’’, Arwen remainded her mildly. ’’Many long leagues separate us from the Sea and its dangerous luring.’’
’’And yet naught they are, by the measure of our people’’, Aquiel replied, ’’and if ’tis truly so dangerous for you to come close to the shores, then I cannot help but feel pity for you. For a great beauty is taken from you til the day of your final choice, both in view and in music’’; she laid a hand upon her own heart. ’’Once you have heard the never-ending murmurs of the Sea, the music of tides rolling against the shores, it will sing in your heart forever, as it even sings and murmurs in empty seashells washed ashore after the life had gone from them.’’
Arwen felt a slight sting, for she knew she would never be allowed to live on the shores, unless she made the final choice of her life at a much too young age, which she intended not. For the longings of her mortal and Elven blood fought a constant battle in her heart, just as it was the case with Elladan, and she knew it would be wrong to choose ere she had carefully considered all her choices.
’’Tell me about Mithlond’’, she asked. ’’What is it like?(11)’’
’’Well, said Aquiel thoughtfully, ’’’tis like any other fishing town, I presume – though Mithlond itself is a pair of cities, not a mere village of sea-farers. The harbor is very important, of course, but the Sea alone could not sustain the Falathrim. So they also hunt for hides and meat, aside of fishing, and they have gardens for other sorts of food. All in all, ’tis not that different from any haven I have seen… and I have had my fair share of them.’’
’’Have you stayed in the Havens themselves?’’ Arwen inquired. Aquiel nodded, her eyes becoming dreamy with memories.
’’My uncle and I were the guests of Lord Círdan, while the others stayed in different towns and villages along the shores and went to Sea with the Falathrim. We could not handle the ships, of course, but we helped them to sing the fish in the nets and lured the crabs and lobsters from the water right into the cages with our songs. It was most exciting.’’
’’You went to Sea yourself?’’, asked Arwen in honest surprise. Aquiel was so very queenly, so very lady-like, she did not seem to her as someone who spends her time on board of a fishing boot.
’’Oh, I went, indeed’’, Aquiel laughed, ’’after all, we do have some Telerin blood in the family as well. I spent a great many days on the ship of the Lord Galdor; we shared songs and tales and merriment and some good wine.’’
’’Galdor? The same one who fought with Glorfindel against Morgoth’s hosts in Gondolin ere its fall? Is he not supposed to have left for the Blessed Realm Ages ago?(12)’’
’’Well, it seems that he has tarried a little’’, Aquiel said with a fond smile. ’’He has a great house in Mithlond, with large and comfortable halls on three levels, where he dwels with all his kinfolk: his sisters and their families. It has workshops, a walled courtyard, a small orchard, a beautiful garden and even its adjoining wood, for the Falathrim need the wood for their ships. And they have a few meadows, near the house, where their horses are held.’’
’’You seem to know very much about this Lord’’, Arwen remarked. Aquiel nodded.
’’True. We have become very close. He is a wonderful person: strong yet gentle, and merry as a child. He taught me the speech of the Sea-Elves and wondrous songs about the Sea and introduced me to his kinfolk. Did you know that Celebwen, Princess of Emyn Galen(13), has wedded one of his nephews?’’
Arwen shook her head, smiling.
’’Tidings come not often from the realm of King Thranduil. He is not very fond of our family. But you have grown fond of the Lord Galdor, I deem.’’
’’I have’’, Aquiel nodded; ’’that is why I have chosen him for my First Time.’’
’’Galdor?’’, Arwen frowned. ’’Was it not a little… awkward? With him being a First Age war hero and twice the age of your parents?’’
’’Why, ’tis the whole reason for the Choosing Ceremony’’, Aquiel replied with a shrug. ’’We are supposed to choose an older, experienced lover for our First Time – and I certainly did not regret choosing Galdor.’’
’’I guess you are right’’, said Arwen, still a little doubtful. ’’To tell the truth, I had trouble to understand Elladan choosing Master Glorfindel as well.’’
’’Most young men choose a male lover for their First Time’’, Aquiel said. ’’They can learn better the ways of loving from another male, or so ’tis said. And Master Glorfindel certainly has the experience of two lifetimes.’’
’’I would not know’’, Arwen answered. ’’He is the only one who even spends the festivals alone. No-one has ever seen him taking a lover, they say – though I also heard that Erestor had chosen him for the First Time, too.’’
’’’Tis known to happen at times to the Wise, or to Masters, that they go up in their task so completely that they have no desire for love’’, Aquiel pondered, ’’though ’tis also said to be very, very rare. Mayhap having been dead once already did change him more profoundly than we might think.’’
’’I know not’’, Arwen shrugged; ’’but sometimes we try to explain everything about him with his time in Mandos’ Halls. I have my doubts in this.’’
’’Did Elrohir chose him as well?’’, Aquiel asked. Arwen shook her head.
’’Nay, he did not. He had his Ceremony much later, in Lothlórien, and chose one of the Wise Woman of the Galadhrim. The Lady Galadriel was not pleased.’’
’’Why not?’’, Aquiel asked in surprise. Galadriel was the queen of the Galadhrim, after all. Or, at least, she had ruled them… until recently.
’’She chose to rule the Silvan folk, not to mingle with them. She was not pleased when Mother took over so many of their customs, either’’, Arwen lowered her voice. ’’Ere she even met Father, Mother had been promised to Amdír, King of Lórien, but grandmother found it an unworthy choice and forced them apart.’’
’’Then the Lady Celebrían had not married Master Elrond out of Love?’’, Aquiel truly was thunderstruck now. But Arwen only laughed.
’’Oh, she did marry him out of love. Sure, it took her a long time to forget her first lover, but Father had been as persuasive as ever, and at the end won her heart. Cannot you see how they are glowing with love for each other every moment they spend together?’’
’’I can’’, said Aquiel, ’’and I wish for myself to find a love like that one day. That is why it surprised me so much that once she had intended to bond with another one.’’
’’’Twas the folly of youth’’, Arwen shrugged. ’’Mother says, it might have lasted even shorter, had grandmother not interfered. Mother can be quite headstrong, too, and by law, the choice was hers.’’
’’Which strong-headedness she no doubt inherited from the Lady Galadriel’’, Aquiel said. ’’The Lord Celeborn is so much…calmer, almost serene… Their marriage truly is an enigma for me.’’
’’Grandfather is one of the Wise’’, Arwen replied, ’’and certainly much more powerful than most people might think. Mother says, he is the only force in Middle-earth that can restrain the Lady Galadriel. It might seem as if his wife would be the one who rules, but the Lord of Trees possesses strength and wisdom few of us can even imagine. And he is the one the Galadhrim truly respect – for he never left Middle-earth, unlike the nobles of the Eldar, and his roots in this Earth are very deep. Should he ever be forced to leave, it certainly would break his heart.’’
’’I rarely spoke with him at all’’, Aquiel admitted regretfully. ’’It was always the Lady Galadriel who taught me.’’
’’Then you have chosen the wrong tutor’’, said Arwen; ’’though for a Lady of the Noldor, one of royal blood, it might not even be the wrong choice.’’
’’What about you?’’, Aquiel asked. ’’Who was your tutor in the Golden Wood?’’
’’Both of them, of course’’, Arwen said with a smile; ’’yet in all my life I was much closer to the Lord Celeborn; just as Mother has been. Even thought I come after grandmother in many ways, or so they say.’’
They remained silent for a while, warming themselves with some miruvor. Then Arwen turned to her new friend again and asked:
’’Tell me about your uncle. How come he is unmarried and has no children of his own?’’
’’I know not’’, Aquiel sighed. ’’Our Elders say that there was someone once whom he loved very much: a lady back then in Gil-galad’s court; but she chose a mere sailor from Círdan’s people over him, and their ship sank shortly thereafter. I know not if ’tis true. But he has lived more or less alone, ever since I came into his care. Sure, he has had consorts and bedmates as all unbound Elves have, but no-one special. And it never lasted.’’
She shook Arwen a curious look.
’’Are you interested in him?’’
Arwen shrugged.
’’Maybe. I’m not certain yet. It seems, however, that he is very much interested in me – either that, or he likes making Father furious.’’
’’I remember… our first evening in the Hall of Fire’’, Aquiel laughed. ’’I thought Master Elrond would tear him to pieces with his bare hands. I blame him not; my uncle can be infuriating at times. Does he still pursue you?’’
’’Al the time’’, Arwen shook her head in silent anger. ’’He is constantly teasing me in front of others. He often corners me in empty archways or joins me on lonely paths outside the house, just to be seen with me… as if trying to frighten me or make me feel uncomfortable.’’
’’With no results as I can see’’, Aquiel remarked, smiling.
’’’Tis not completely true’’, Arwen admitted. ’’He does make me uncomfortable… and excited at the same time. I feel myself being drawn to him, for he is noble and fair and strong – you know how difficult control becomes so near the Time of Choosing. And he plays with my disturbed feelings shamelessly.’’
’’He can be cruel at times’’, Aquiel agreed, ’’and he is often selfish. You should teach him a lesson.’’
’’Oh, I intend to’’, Arwen replied with a wicked grin. ’’One he likely shall never forget!’’
’’Tell me!’’, Aquiel insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
’’I shall’’, Arwen laughed, ’’but you must swear to keep this to yourself til the Ceremony.’’
Aquiel nodded, barely able to restrain her curiosity.
’’Sure, I swear. I never would spoil a good lesson my beloved uncle so richly deserves. Now, tell me!’’
Arwen leaned close, so close that their faces nearly touched, and whispered in an elegantly curved ear, half-buried under golden tresses:
’’I intend to choose him for my First Time!’’
’’Elbereth!’’, Aquiel burst out, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. ’’Oh, you truly are a wicked, wicked one, Arwen! ’Tis the best thing you could have thought of! But’’, she added, at once sober again, ’’I fear your father would not approve.’’
’’I care not’’, said Arwen with a shrug. ’’Mother does; and this is my Choosing Ceremony anyway, and I can choose whom I want. And I want Gildor Inglorion pay for all the inconveniences he has caused me in these days. By choosing him, I can make him satisfy my wishes for a change. I shall enjoy my vengeance greatly.’’
’’He certainly deserves it’’, Aquiel agreed’’, yet I believe he would be a good choice anyway. You shall learn much from him while teaching him that lesson. All his lovers left in the morrow after with a dreamy smile on their faces.’’
They giggled, very un-ladylike; then Aquiel sobered again and added:
’’But choose him not only because you are angry with him. I do believe there is more from his part than the simple wish to make your father furious. I think there is genuine interest; and who could blame him for that? Such beauty as yours has not adorned the Earth since Lúthien Tinúviel – and if the old lays Orgof is so fond of tell the truth, you walk the realm of Arda in her likeness. My uncle deserves his lesson, ’tis true; but I wish him not to be hurt – or you.’’
’’’Tis not vengeance alone’’, replied Arwen seriously. ’’Your people came like a gift of Yavanna at this very time. For whom, save Glorfindel, could I have chosen here? Most people in Imladris are either bound or much too young for that – and I wanted not my Ceremony to be in Lothlórien, for I wished not the Lady of the Wood to interfere with my choice.’’
’’As long as the Lady Celebrían approves…’’, Aquiel trailed off. Arwen smiled.
’’She does. She told me to follow my heart – and that she trusts me enough to leave me choose freely. I am glad she does, though. I shall need an ally when Fater learns about my choice.’’
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To say that Elrond was not happy with the choice of his daughter would have been the understatement of the century. The Lord of Imladris was genuinely fuming, strolling up and down in his bedchamber with long, angry strides, looking every bit the agitated warrior he had been during his last great battle, when the Last Alliance of Elves and Men finally managed to overthrow the Dark Lord.
’’She must have lost her mind’’, he fumed, ’’or Gildor must have her under some sort of spell. Our serene daughter could never feel a man like him!’’
Celebrían sat before the large mirror, combing her knee-long, silver hair and re-braiding it for the night and smiled patiently.
’’The Time of Choosing is not a time for lore and wisdom but one of the stirring of body and heart, and you know that’’, she answered. ’’I agree with our daughter’s First Choice.’’
Elrond stopped his strolling and glared at his Lady with unbelieving eyes.
’’You approve?’’
’’Certainly’’, Celebrían nodded, finisheing her evening preparations and raising from her seat. ’’Let your dislike not cloud your judgement, beloved. Gildor Inglorion is an excellent First Choice: a proud and noble man, a Lord of royal blood, a seasoned warrior… and surely fair and kingly in appearance. Not to mention that he is old enough to possess all the necessary skills to lead our daughter over the threshold of adulthood.’’
’’Are you certain that ’tis all what lies beyond her choice?’’, Elrond asked.
’’At this moment, I am fairly sure’’, the Lady of the Valley smiled, albeit a little sadly; ’’though we cannot foresee what might come later. But I trust our daughter to make all the right choices – now and later, when it shall be for eternity. He is so much like her father in her wisdom.’’
’’Have I made all the right choices, my silver queen?’’ Elrond teased her, smiling. Celebrían smiled back.
’’That is something you have to decide, my Lord. I for my part have always been satisfied with your choices.’’
’’Have you, hmmm? And are you still?’’
’’Oh, very much. Mayhap I should show you…’’
’’That’’, declared Elrond, sweeping his wife up in his arms; ’’is the best choice any one has made all day.’’
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Well, that’s all for today. Next we return to Lindir and his family bonding with the Lady Aquiel – and we’ll see what Elrohir thinks of it.
End notes:
(If you’re a lover of insignificant background trivia. Otherwise just skip it!)
(1) Michael Martinez assumes that travelling was a lifestyle
for certain Elves, not a mere lack of permanent dwellings. They
would move from one temporary home to another and return,
sometimes years later, before starting the cycle again.
(2) Translated by Findegil / Björn Fromén
This is a translation of the song "Snow-white!" (LR 1
III), adapted to fit the tune of the 15th century hymn Alta
Trinita Beata. In the process an invocation and an echoing line
have been added to each stanza. Found on the Mellonath Daeron
website. This is the same song Gildor and his Company was singing
when they met Frodo and his fellow hobbits in the Shire.
(3) According to Michael Martinez, the name of Finwë, first and
greatest High King of the Noldor in the Blessed Realm, might have
become a title in Middle-earth, just like that of Caesar in
Ancient Rome. See: ''It is all in the family: the Finwëans''.
(4) Was originally meant to be the name of Aredhel, Turgon's
sister. I chose the name because it sounds rather differently
from the average Elven names, and I wanted the Wandering Company
to have different customs, even in the naming of its members.
(5) At least this is what Michael Martinez presumes in his
article ''The Magic of the Minstrels''. All minstrel-related
theories are borrowed from there.
(6) Nandor Elves were Teleri, who came later than the rest of
their people to the West and remained in Ossiriand after the
others left for the Blessed Realm. Most of them were slain in the
First Age, in one of the battles of Beleriand or during the
destruction of Doriath.
(7) Was originally meant to be the name of Saeros, the Nandor Elf
in Doriath who was slain by Túrin. Chosen for the same reason as
Isfin.
(8) Earlier form of Nienor, which was the name of Túrin's
sister.
(9) Melthinor was an earlier name for the Tree of Gold. Falathar
was originally one of Eärendil's companions.
(10) I assumed that - aside of minstrels, healers, archers and
horse-grooms - the Wandering Companies also had to have craftsmen
(craftsbeings?) among them, to re-pay somehow the hospitality
along their journey.
(11) And once again, I can thank for the ideas about Mithlond the
great Michael Martinez, without whose article, ''Life in an Elven
fishing town'', this chapter would be much shorter - but most
likely a lot less interesting.
(12) Actually, he is. But I kept him on Middle-earth a little
longer. More about this is said in the notes of ''Riddles of Doom
and Paths of Love''.
(13) Greenwood the Great, later known as Mirkwood. Celebwen, the
''silver maiden'', is the older sister of Legolas Greenleaf (and
she is mine, completely).