OF SNOW AND STONE AND WOLVES
by Soledad Cartwright
Disclaimer: still not mine, except of the Lady Aquiel, who shall not appear in this chapter.
Rating: PG – 13, for heavy angst stuff (in later chapters) and implied m/m interaction.
Author’s notes:
I want to thank all of you who reviewed the prelude – I was not completely sure how Elladan’s POV would come through. He is an easy character to write, for not much is known about him; on the other hand, it is hard to write him well, even because anyone has a different concept of him.
Now, since the scouts are finally back, the Fellowship of the Ring will be formed, and we shall learn the meaning of the title – or so I hope.
Chapter One: The Shielding Stone
Boromir came awake slowly to the faint music of a harp and to the soft, gentle voice of his lover. He stretched under the thick blanket and smiled at Elladan who was sitting in a big chair across the room, his long, slender fingers gliding along the harp-sings, his beautiful face pale and strangely thoughtful.
’’You got up early’’, he remarked as a sort of greeting. Elladan slowly nodded and gave him one of his slight half-smiles.
’’I went to watch the Silvan folk greeting the dawn. It brings back pleasant memories. My mother used to do that when we were children.’
Boromir surpressed a sigh. The only thing he remembered of his mother was Finduilas’ never-ending sadness and the slow, painful fading away of a once happy and lovely young woman. If the life in the court of his uncle, the Prince of Dol Amroth, was any clue, his mother must have been full of life once – and enjoying it.
Until she had met Father. It might be better if the Lady Éowyn would not want to wed a Man who had lost everything worth to offer her. A warrior princess of the Mark would fade away among the stone walls of our city just as well.
’’Do you have any messages for me from your father?’’, he asked, shaking off these thoughts. The matter with Éowyn would have to wait. He needed to return home first – which would not be an easy return, for none of the Steward’s family.
Elladan shrugged.
’’There shall be another gathering, I heard. The Company of the Ring has to be chosen. In seven days, they must depart, or they would be caught by the winter.’’
’’This year the winter shall be long and hard’’, Boromir murmured, ’’I can feel it in my bones. I, too, have to depart for Minas Tirith, soon. Hopefully, our self-exclaimed King would see the urgency, too. Otherwise I might leave without him.’’
Elladan sighed, withstanding the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes he honestly asked himself why they put up with all these stubborn Men of Númenórean descent. For Aragorn was little better when he had one of his moods.
’’You ought to make your peace with Estel, soon… or else the two of you shall be at each other’s troath all the way till Minas Tirith. And just whom would *that* serve?’’
’’I shall not fight him’’, Boromir said, ’’as I already told you yester eve. If he wants to come to Minas Tirith with me, so be it. Better I get used to him while my father is not around to make things worse.’’
’’Would he?’’ Elladan asked in all earnesty.
Boromir laughed mirthlessly. What a question!
’’Oh, he most certainly would. You call me stubborn and single-minded, for nothing as my city and her safety seems to be in my heart; you should hear my father who had done naught else for half a century… as did all his father’s fathers before him. The Stewards of Gondor ruled well, Elladan. It is hard for us to step down. And who can promise us for certain that Arathorn son of Aragorn, in truth, would restore the land to its strength and glory of old times?’’
’’No-one can’’, Elladan agreed, ’’and I do understand that it is hard to leave old, well-walked paths for new ones that only contain a promise. But I fear you shall not have any other choice. And sometimes a promise could do more than a whole army of strong Men with sharp weapons.’’
’’In your waking dreams, mayhap’’, Boromir sighed. ’’Still, I shall be no hindrance for our King-to-be if it is his desire to defend our city. Yet if he tarries too much, I cannot wait for him. I have already wasted too much time here.’’
’’You think so?’’ Elladan did not flinch, but the hurt was clearly to see in his darkening eyes. Boromir reached out a hand to him.
’’Forgive me. That was not what I meant.’’
’’Oh, I believe it was, indeed’’, Elladan bit his lip, then he swallowed and fought back his calm. ’’Never mind. I do understand your longing to return home. I would feel the same if Imladris were in great peril. I wish I could go with you, at least for a part of the way, but I fear Father would not approve. And I have tested his patience with my… indiscretions already hard enough.’’
’’You are needed here just as much as I am needed home’’, Boromir offered awkwardly. Elladan tilted his head on one side with a strange, bird-like jerk and lifted up one of his shoulders shortly.
’’Maybe, in a way. Now, you should get dressed and eat something ere you walk over to Father’s house. I shall see you later.’’
* * * * * * * * * * *
A short hour later, a small gathering was summoned to the same porch where the Council had been held almost a month earlier. The young hobbit, Frodo, was there, with his faithful man-servant and the two even younger ones of his small Kin whom Boromir still had a hard time to keep apart; then, of course, Mithrandir, crouching on a bench like an old, grey vulture, watching everyone with never-tiring, keen eyes, and the inevitable Heir of Isildur.
Elrond greeted them all, then he looked gravely at Frodo.
’’The time has come’’, he said. ’’If the Rign is to sent out, it must go soon. But those who go with it must not count on their errand being aided by war or force.They must pass into the domain of the Enemy far from aid. Do you still hold to your word, Frodo, that you shall be the Ring-bearer?’’
The anguish was clearly shown on that small, vulnerable face, deep blue eyes wide with fear, but the young hobbit did not falter.
’’I do’’, he said; then, reaching out to his servant for aid, he added: ’’I will go with Sam.’’
’’Then I cannot help you much, not even with counsel’’, said Elrond, and Boromir felt like screaming again. The poor little guy was already scared to death, even without having been told how utterly helpless his whole errand was.
Looking at that Elvish face again, Boromir was hard-pressed to believe that the hobbit was, indeed, about eleven years his senior and had faced the Nameless Fear and had been bodily harmed by it. He looked so much like a child – yet he was not. He was a grown person, who prepared to go into mortal danger, without help. Just how much bravery dwelt in that little heart?
’’I can foresee very little of your road’’, Elrond continued; ’’and how your task is to be achieved, I do not know. The Shadow has crept now to the feet of the Mountains, and draws nigh even to the borders of the Greyflood; and under the Shadow all is dark to me.’’
Dark, indeed, Boromir thought, withstanding the urge to double over with pain at these words. He had spent the night in peaceful sleep once again, thank to Elladan’s songs, yet even now he could feel the darkness lingering just beyond the horizon, and he knew, once he left the valley, he would be unprotected. And that hateful fear he had never known before Osgiliath, took his heart in a tight, icy grip again.
Yet it was not death itself he feared. To death he was used as all soldiers are, knowing that one day or another, they were to meet, inevitable.
It was darkness that filled his heart with horror.
Darkness that he would have to endure alone from now on.
For the rest of his journey.
For the rest of his life. How ever long or short it might be.
’’And I shall choose you companions to go with you, as far as they will or fortune allows’’, Elrond was still speaking to the young hobbit. ’’The number must be few, since your hope is in speed or secrecy. Had I a host of Elves in armor of the Elder Days, it would avail little, save to arouse the power of Mordor.’’
And you have failed once already, Boromir thought grimly. It was isildur, a mortal Man, who cut the ring off the Black Hand, not one of your proud Elven Lords. You blame him for keeping the Ring, yet it was him, no-else who broke the strength of the Enemy, taking him the very source of his power.
’’The Company of the Ring shall be Nine’’, Elrond announced; ’’and the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil. With you and your faithful servant Gandalf will go; for this shall be his great task, and maybe the end of his labours.’’
This seemed to delight Frodo greatly – so much, indeed, that Mithrandir rose from his bench and took off his hat and bowed. The others laughed; every one felt a little relieved.
’’For the rest, they shall represent the other Free Peoples of the World: Elves, Dwarves and Men’’, Elrond closed his eyes for a moment as if he needed all his strength for the next announcement. ’’For the Elves, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood shall be’’, he finally said in an even voice, not giving any sign of the pain and anguish he must have felt; ’’And Gimli son of Glóin for the Dwarves. They are willing to go at least to the passes of the Mountains, and maybe beyond. For Men you shall have Aragorn son of Arathorn, for the Ring of Isildur concers him closely.’’
’’Strider!’’, cried Frodo joyously, and Sam looked more relieved than ever.
’’Yes’’, the future King of Gondor said with a smile. ’’I ask leave once again to be your companion, Frodo.’’
’’I would have begged you to come’’, said Frodo, ’’only I thought you were going to Minas Tirith with Boromir.’’
’’So did I’’, Boromir commented in a low voice, audible only for the keen ears of an Elf – or a Ranger of the North.
’’I am’’, said Aragorn and looked him straight in the eyes. ’’And the Sword-that-was-Broken shall be reforged ere I set out to war. ’’Then he turned back to the hobbit. ’’But your road and our road lie together for many hundreds of miles. Therefore Boromir will also be in the Company. He is a valiant man.’’
This announcement as well as the unexpected compliment surprised Boromir greatly. Never would he expected them to trust him even near the Ring; not after his passionate plea in the Council to give it to Gondor as a weapon or to wield it against the Enemy. Yet as he looked into those clear grey eyes again, he understood that this was a peace offer from his soon-to-be King and accepted it with a simple nod.
’’There remain two more to be found’’, said Elrond. ’’There I shall consider. Of my household I may find some that it seems good to me to send.’’
With that, he looked directly of Boromir, who felt a strange warmth pooling around his own heart. Could it be that Elrond, in spite of Elladan’s obvious doubts, would be ready to let his firstborn go with them? Having the strength, the wisdom and the healing powers of Elladan in the Company would, no doubt, be very helpful for both hobbits and Men.
Especially for one of the Men, Boromir added as an afterthought, and a smile began to reach the corner of his mouth.
Ere he could have said anything, though – and he certainly was not beyond begging in this matter –, the youngest hobbit, the one the others called ’Pippin’, intervened.
’’But that will leave no place for us!’’, he cried in dismay. ’’We do not want to be left behind. We want to go with Frodo.’’
’’That is because you do not understand and cannot imagine what lies ahead’’, said Elrond, trying to keep things in his hand. He clearly did not like the idea of *four* hobbits walking off with the Ring.
’’Neither has Frodo’’, said Mithrandir, unexpectedly supporting Pippin, and Boromir’s heart sank for he knew how much the Lord of Imladris listened to the wizard’s counsel. ’’Nor do any of us see clearly. ’Tis true that if these hobbits understood the danger, they would not dare to go. But they would still wish to go, or wish that they dared, and be shamed and unhappy. I think, Elrond, that in this matter it would be well to trust rather to their friendship than to great wisdom. Even if you choose for us an Elf-Lord, such as Glorfindel, he could not storm the Dark Tower, nor open the road to the Fire by the power that is in him.’’
’’You speak gravely’’, said Elrond, yet clearly in disagreement, and Boromir almost began to hope again, ’’But I am in doubt. I judge that the younger of these two, Peregrin Took, should remain. My heart is against his going.’’
And the glance he spared for Boromir made it clear why.
’’Then, Master Elrond, you will have to lock me in prison, or send me home tied in a sack’’, said the youngest hobbit stubbornly. ’’For otherwise I shall follow the Company.’’
His set jaw and burning eyes left no doubt that he meant it. Both Elrond and Boromir could see that, and they unlocked their eyes in defeat.
’’Let it be then. You shall go’’, said Elrond, and he sighed. ’’Now the tale of the Nine is filled. In seven days the Company must depart.’’
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
When the young hobbits left for the chambers of their grumpy old uncle, and Estel went to see Arwen, and my beloved retreated to the guest house to brood till my arrival, my father looked at me, standing among the trees outside the porch, and his eyes were full of sorrow.
’’I regret this turn of events deeply, my son’’, he said. ’’I would have granted you the comfort of protecting the one you love. Yet these young ones have a claim to be part of the Company; for they, too, are moved by love, though of a different kind.’’
’’Is then my claim not justified?’’, I asked, entering the porch. ’’Or does my love give me less right to a claim, only because it is unrequited?’’
’’Elladan’’, my father rose and laid a comforting hand upon my arm, ’’you know I would have sent you with them if I could. But these young hobbits have already travelled with the Ring-bearer through great peril; and they presence would give Frodo more strength than yours, I believe. I only begin to understand how much the son of Denethor means to you, and it pains me greatly that I cannot grant you your wish. But it is the Ring-bearer whom we must support above all else.’’
I closed my eyes, for he was right, as always, but his decision was still hard for me to bear. I had not hoped that he would even consider letting me go with Boromir, at least for a good part of the journey, and it hurt twice now that he had to deny me this comfort. Now only one path was left for me, and I knew it would hit my father hard, for I had not yet spoken to him of my choice – yet I had to follow my heart. I could not go on differently.
’’I understand, Father’’, I said after a moment of heavy silence. ’’Then I wish to execute my Right of Protection.’’
My father paled at these words and became silent for what seemed for ever.
’’So you have chosen’’, he fianlly said, and the hidden pain in his voice was almost unbearable, for I love him greatly and never wanted to cause him such pain, even less after the never-healing wound my sister’s choice had torn on his heart. Yet I could deny the longing of my heart for fulfillment even less; and if the only path to fulfillment was to lay down my life and die, I was ready to walk that path.
’’Indeed, Father, I have.’’
’’Does he know?’’, my father asked. I shook my head.
’’Nay; nor do I wish him to ever learn of it.’’
’’Why not? He surely has a right to know?’’
’’It would do no good for either of us. He does not love me the way I love him; and he is guilt-ridden enough for things he did not choose and cannot change as it is, I wish not to add to his burden. He never promised me aught; nor is it his fault that I have fallen for him as I never had before.’’ I shrugged. ’’Then again, I might have chosen to remain in Middel-earth even without him; you always knew that.’’
My father raised a questioning eyebrow.
’’I did?’’
I nodded.
’’Why else would you have feared my final choice so much all my life? You were never worried about Elrohir.’’
’’That is ture’’, my father sighed. ’’Yet to fear it is by far lesser painful than to know the inevitable loss has come. Are you sure about your chosen path, my son?’’
’’Yes, Father. I shall remain here as long as Elrohir remains, for I could never leave him behind. But once he sets sail for the Blessed Realm, I shall walk the path of your own brother.’’
My father was silent again for some time. Then he nodded.
’’So be it. The choice is yours, as it was mine and my brother’s and as it will be Elrohir’s. I accept your choice, as I always did.’’
* * * * * * * * * * * *
After Elladan left, Elrond collapsed into his big chair, unable to keep his calm any more. Now he could understand why his brother grew so very tired of life after awhile. Losing Elros was hard enough. Losing Celebrían was much worse, it nearly killed him. It certainly would have, if not for Legolas. Losing Arwen, his beautiful daughter was devastating; a deep wound that would never heal. But losing his firstborn was pure agony – one he never felt before.
’’He is right, you know’’, the soft voice of Legolas said, startingly near him; in his grief he did not sense him coming. ’’You always feared this choice of his.’’
’’I did’’, Elrond admitted. ’’But I always hoped it would be different… or that we would have more time.’’
’’What does time matter?’’ Legolas asked solemnly. ’’A day, a year, a whole age – does it make happiness more sweet or grief less bitter? I do not believe so.’’
’’Yes, but you are an Elf of Mirkwood, and they are a strange lot’’, Elrond said with a very undignified sort. ’’Why else would you want to go with the Ring-bearer to Mordor?’’
’’I most certainly do not wish to go’’, Legolas answered, with a grim look on his fair face, ’’yet ’tis something I have to do. As much as it would delight me to remain here, I have my obligations. Towards my people. And towards my father.’’
Elrond shook his head in disbelief.
’’I cannot belive your father would demand from you to walk the Black Fields. You are his only son. And you have not even sired a heir yet.’’
’’Very true’’, Legolas nodded, ’’but I feel that we have retreated from Sauron long enough. Long before the War of the Last Alliance, the great city of my grandfather, Oropher, King of the Silvan Elves east of Anduin, stood upon Amon Lanc in the south of Emyn Galen. Then, being disturbed by the rumours of the rising power of Sauron, he had left his ancient dwellings across the river from our Kin in Lórinand. Three times he had moved northwards, till – at the end of the Second Age – he dwelt in the western glens of Emyn Duir, and his numerous people lived and roamed in the woods and vales westward as far as Anduin, nort of the ancient Men-i-Naugrim.’’
’’I already know that, Legolas’’, Elrond gently responded. ’’I have been alive during that time, remember?’’
’’Then you surely know as well, how Sauron’s shadow spread through Emyn Galen and changed it into Mirkwood. How the Emyn Duir became a haunt of many of his most evil creatures. How our ancient city upon Amon Lanc was destroyed, her beautiful and wise old trees murdered and the evil tower of Dol Guldur raised upon her ruins.’’
Legolas’ voice became very low and strangely cold, his green eyes burnt with an icy fire.
’’You were there in the Battle upon Dagorlad where my grandfather was slain in the assault upon the Gates of Mordor, with two of every three Silvan Elves that followed him into the battle. We never truly recovered from that loss. Much of what we had known was lost for ever, the magic that once had dwelt in our peple slowly faded away, until we became a shadow of ourselves: a rustic and rude folk, without much wisdom or knowledge. My own father had his dwellings carved in stone and lives under the earth like a Dwarf. Our borders are under constant assaults. If we go on like that, soon there would be no where to retreat.’’
’’You still can go to the Havens’’, Elrond offered mildly, but Legolas shook his head.
’’Nay, ’tis not our way. We are Moriquendi, children of the trees and the twilight. We belong with Middle-earth and its woods, as long as a single tree stands. And then, we shall perish with the last one.’’
’’Not you’’, said Elrond. ’’You, too, have Sindar blood in your veins. Sooner or later the Sea shall call to you.’’
’’Maybe’’, Legolas replied. ’’Not any time soon, I hope. I wish not to leave my trees for a very long time yet.’’
’’Tis a very dark path you have offered to walk’’, Elrond murmured, wishing desperately that he could keep his warrior Prince in the safety of the valley. ’’I do not to wish lose you, too. I could not bear it. Not after what Elladan has just told me.’’
’’With so much at stake, we cannot consider our own feelings’’, answered Legolas gently.
Elrond nodded.
’’I know that. But I do know, too, what you shall face in the Black Land.’’
’’You are not the only one’’, said Legolas quietly. ’’I have watched the weight of the Shadow growing heavier on my own father’s heart with every passing season. He, too, had seen the horror of Mordor and cannot forget it. If ever he looked south while Sauron was sleeping, its memory dimmed the light of the sun, and though he knew that it was now broken and deserted and under the vigilance of the Kings of Men, fear spoke in his heart that it was not conquered for ever; that it would rise again. For the Shadow was constantly growing in Dol Guldur, and foul creatures spread through the wood again… and the dreams of my father were haunted with dark fire. It has to end, Elrond, or it will eat up our hearts as well as it eats our trees. I go to Mordor to see it end.’’
* * * * * * * * * * *
The next few days were spent in eager preparations. The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths and on its blade was traced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and the rayed Sun, and about them was written many rules; for Aragorn son of Arathorn was going to war upon the marches of Mordor.
Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and called it Andúril, Flame of the West.
So mighty and powerful and bright it was, indeed, that I almost began to hope again. To hope that the blade that once had defeated the Enemy, had taken most of his power, might overthrow him again.
I almost believed it.
But then I remainded myself how little one Man could do against fate itself and against the forces of Darkness. Even if this Man is the Heir of Isildur. I wanted to believe in him, but how could I? He believed that the Ruling Ring must be destroyed – how could he not see that it was our only hope against the Enemy?
Aragorn and Mithrandir walked together all these days or sat speaking of their road and the perils they would meet; and they pondered the storied and figured maps and books of lore that were in the house of Elrond. Sometimes they called me to be with them, saying that I knew more the roads into Mordor than the both of them together, which was, of course, not true, for they were much older than I was and had seen a lot more than I have. But I understood that my King-to-be wanted to include me into their affairs so that I would not feel shut out or insulted in my honour.
It was a well-meant yet clumsy act to make me feel better – to tame me, mayhap –, but for the sake of peace I let it happen. Yet though I did join them when ever I was asked, I was content to lean on their guidance, at least as long as we still walked the fields of the North, after what our paths would part anyway, and I spent as much time as I could with my lover.
For he was strangely thoughtful in the recent days, his eyes clouded with hidden grief and his songs grew more and more sorrowful with every passing night. I was certain there had to be more than my upcoming departure. Yet whenever I asked what was troubling him, he only shook his head, smiled wanly and said that there was much on his mind and that I should not worry about him.
So I did not insist any more, for our time together was, indeed, cut very short already, and I wanted to put it to good use. For though I might not feel the same for him as he felt for me, I got pleasantly accustomed to having him around, and I knew I would sorely miss him once we left the valley.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
On the very eve of the Company’s departure, Elladan summoned his lover to the main house, to his own chambers, where Boromir had not been since their first night together; for he wanted to give him a parting gift, as he said, which only could be given in private. Boromir followed his summoning somewhat bewildered, for in all their times together, Elladan had never felt the necessity to make things between them overly ceremonial.
The more surprised he was when he found not only his Elven lover but Glorfindel, too, in the twilit antechamber of Elladan’s rooms.
’’I thought you wanted a private meeting’’, he remarked.
But Elladan only smiled in sorrow and nodded slowly.
’’It shall be private enough… afterwards. But first I wish to give you something for your long and perilous journey. Something that would help you wear off the darkness when I cannot be with you to do it myself.’’
He held up a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set; it was clearly the finest Elven handiwork, and the stone had a mild, soft light glowing in it like a far away white star.
’’This’’, said Elladan, ’’is Adamant, one of the Elf-Stones that came back with Glorfindel from over the Sea; it contains the undying light of Valinor. He gave it to me when I reached maturity, more than twenty centuries ago. It is called the Shielding Stone, for it is for the protection of one’s beloved; yet I have not found any one I would want to gift it upon ere I met you. Now I want you to wear it.’’
Boromir was so stunned he could not even breathe for awhile. Surely, he had heard of the magical powers of the Elf-Stones that returned with the Noldor from the Blessed Realm, yet it was certainly unheard of to give such a Stone to a mortal Man.
’’Elladan, you cannot…’’
’’Oh, but he can’’, the clear, ringing voice of Glorfindel cut in. ’’The Adamant was gifted upon him for this exact purpose only. He asked me to witness so that no-one can ever doubt your right to wear the Shielding Stone, and I am very glad that it finally can fulfill its true purpose.’’
He paused, and when he continued, his voice became low and quiet, full of wonder for the deep love of the younger Elf, who was like a son to him, towards a mortal Man – and for his brave choice.
’’I know not whether you can fully understand the meaning of this, son of Denethor, but do not think of it as a simple parting gift between two lovers. For such is the power of the Shielding Stone, that when ever you wear it, part of him who gifted it upon you, shall always be with you. You can reach his soul over many hundreds of leagues, even thorough time itself, bringing back living memories of shared joy as if you were having one of the Elven waking dreams.’’
He paused again then added with an earnest smile:
’’You can bring back the memory of his songs when dreams of fire and darkness torture you again.’’
Boromir glared at the collar in Elladan’s hand in wonder.
’’That tiny Stone can do that?’’
’’Not the Stone itself’’, Elladan laughed quietly. ’’Its powers are great, but they only work for a soul that is bond to an other. Be not frightened’’, he added a little sadly, seeing the slight flinch in Boromir’s demeanor, ’’I do not intend to wed you. Even if the customs of your people would allow such a thing, you are already promised to Éowyn of Rohan, and I respect that. I only intend to bond myself to you, without forcing any obligations upon you. ’Tis a gift, given freely by me – and accepted freely by you, if you choose to accept.’’
’’But I heard that when Elves bond themselves, it is til death’’, Boromir said warily.
’’Nay, ’tis even beyond Death and beyond the Sea, going on even in Mandos’ Halls til the end of Ea’’, said Glorfindel quietly. ’’That is why we only can bond ourselves to an other one single time. Some of us never find a devotion strong enough to take such a final step, yet when we do, it brings us a fulfillment we cannot find otherwise.’’
’’But should this not be something felt by both sides?’’, Boromir asked, for he was reluctant to let Elladan enter such a one-sided bond. It felt not right to allow the Elf to make such a sacrifice – and not be able to give him equal devotion.
’’In most cases it is’’, Glorfindel nodded, ’’but sometimes we have to find our fullfilment in giving, without receiving. ’Tis no bitter thing, though. Our nature is such that we can warm our hearts in our devotion and in cheerished memories of what ever we received for years uncounted, and have a happy life, even in solitude.’’
There was something in his voice that spoke of personal experience, and Boromir wondered just who might it have been to whom Glorfindel had bound his soul Ages ago – with a bond strong enough to make him serve Elrond’s family ever since he returned from over Sea.
And he looked at Ellandan’s calm, serene face, wondering, whether this meant that Elrond’s eldest would defend Minas Tirith for him, even after he was long gone. He felt guilty to think of naught else at this moment when Elladan was preparing to give him the greates gift an Elf could ever give… and hesitated, whether he should refuse after all.
But then he saw the deep understanding in the clear, sorrowful eyes of his lover and understood that acceptance was the only thing he really could give him; that – in spite of the different kind of their feelings for each other –, he could, indeed, bring fulfillment to Elladan’s life.
’’I gratefully accept’’, he said with a slight bow of his head. ’’I only wish I could do the same thing for you.’’
Elladan smiled; not one of his wry half-grins this time, but a smile that made his chiseled features glow from the inside.
’’We cannot change the ways of our heart by will only’’, he answered gently, ’’and I never asked you for anything you cannot give.’’
’’Indeed, you did not’’, Boromir nodded; then he shifted a liffle uncomfortably. ’’What do I have to do, then?’’
’’Nothing’’, Elladan replied, still smiling. ’’Tis my oath, not yours. I asked Glorfindel to witness, for he is the eldest who dwells in my father’s house; and the one who has spoken to the Lords of Valinor in flesh – and this is something where their blessing has to be prayed for.’’
He gently laid the silver collar around Boromir’s neck, and it closed with a slight click and became smooth and firm all around at once, for it had no clasp whatsoever, only the ancient Elven magic that was wrought in its sacred metal – and it felt as warm and light as a silken ribbon, keeping the warmth and gentleness of Elladan’s touch.
And Elladan smiled again and spoke in a quiet but firm voice, not in Quenya or the Common Speech, but in the ancient tongue of Gondor, to Boromir’s great surprise:
Boromir son of Denethor
To thee I pledge my love
Now and for ever,
Beyond the Sea and beyond Death itself,
To watch over you
And to protect you from all things of evil,
from Fire and Darkness
and from the shadows of evil long gone.
This vow I speak before Manwë Súlimo,
Lord of the Winds, King of the Valar
and before Varda, Queen of the Stars;
and this oath I swear
in the Name of Eru, Ilúvatar,
the Maker of all things
above and beneath the Sky and the Sea.
And by the naming of the Name that was only spoken in the most solemn of oaths, the white stone began glowing again and its light never darkened as long as Boromir was alive.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
End Note:
I know, I was supposed to finally set them out in this chapter, but then I felt the need to explore the motivations of certain members of the Company. After all, we were never told just why Legolas was chosen, right?