"Should we ask what you're doing?" Elrohir walked up to the big comfortable chair and crossed his arms. "Or is it better to just walk away?"
"Orophin suggested," began Haldir, "that if I stand on my head, perhaps all of the knowledge would filter down somehow and gather up there and I would end up being able to write something."
Peering up over his book, Orophin said, "I can't believe he actually did it."
"I'm running out of ideas," Haldir admitted. "I tried writing it on my own, with Gimli, with Legolas, out in the garden, on the porch- I just have nothing to sing about." He wiggled his toes, which were up at the top of the chair. "I think my feet have fallen asleep."
"How long have you been doing this?" asked Elladan. There was a wrapped package under his arm that Haldir suddenly noticed.
"Is that what I think it is?" Haldir sat up abruptly, then regretted that he did so. He leaned back on the chair, holding the side of his head. "For over an hour... Orophin, why do I listen to you?"
Closing his book and propping his chin upon his hand, he answered, "Because you're desperate and you love me."
"Perhaps this will cheer you," offered Elladan, handing the package to Haldir. "We did the best we could, considering the time that we had."
Orophin snorted. "You got them to make the gift you're giving for you?"
"Not exactly. I wanted to give something to someone else besides whose name I pulled, but it's not something I could make. The more I've been thinking of it, I'm practically useless. I can't make a thing, not really. I can do a thing here or there, but nothing to perfection. I can poke a needle through fabric, but I could never make anything like this," he said, regarding the package. "I've thrown a few awkward looking pots, but your father has made some of the most amazing vases. Even you, Orophin. I can fletch an arrow, but you take knife to wood and extraordinary things happen. Rumil and Adar are the artists, Nenniach is the writer, Nana can cook anything without a recipe. Celebrian, the seamstress, Celebdreth, the sculptor. What am I?"
"You are Haldir, and we love you just the way you are." It was Rumil who said this, entering during the rambling. He stepped behind the chair and kissed Haldir's head. When that did not eliminate the frown on his brother's face, Rumil bent back again and made noises akin to a chattering squirrel near to Haldir's shoulder.
"What was that?" laughed Elladan as Haldir smiled and reached an arm around to hug Rumil.
"That's my little orc. I called him that sometimes when he was annoying me, and he would then come and pretend to chew on me, because Adar told him to stay away from orcs because they ate little elves." Haldir thought about the memory fondly. "Thank you for that, Rumil, but I am still at a loss for this song. And the gift."
"You don't have a gift yet?" Rumil was still behind Haldir leaning over the chair, arms wrapped around his brother's shoulders. "I could help you make something or find something."
"I really want to do this on my own, but thank you. I suppose I had best find somewhere to work." He detangled himself from Rumil and left the room, taking the package up to his own suite. Giving the parcel a pat after setting it on the bed, he went to the desk and set it up for writing. For the next few minutes, he stared at the blank page. "Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea," he mumbled, tapping the quill against the desktop.
Giving up again, at least momentarily he left the room, taking his flute with him. It was to the familiar log that he went, seating himself to face the sea, and he began to play. The cold air coming off of the water blew his hair back behind him, waving like silvery tinsel on the breeze. He continued to play as the clouds began to billow above, harkening the oncoming snowstorms.
Among the clouds, a spec of peach and black came into view, quickly becoming more and more pink as it came closer. Haldir rested his flute as Mitzi landed in the water, skimming the surface before she came to a stop. She bathed, shivered a moment, and then came to the shore, shaking the water off like the family dog would.
"And again, you've returned, Mitzi-girl. I wonder where it is you go sometimes," mused Haldir as the sea bird hopped up onto his lap. He smoothed back the feathers that had ruffled in the sharp wind. "You probably have a fascinating life somewhere else. Maybe a family just as odd as we are, or completely the opposite. Or a nest, I wouldn't be surprised if you were the mother to an entire flock of flamingos and kept coming here to keep your sanity. Perhaps someday you will tell us," he said, but he didn't appear all too convinced such a thing would happen.
That is why Mitzi took it upon herself to hop from his lap and tug on the sleeve of his shirt.
"I am not going to swim with you," said Haldir. "It is much, much too cold."
Making a grumbling noise, Mitzi took flight, but only briefly, before turning back to see if Haldir was watching. She landed and grumbled again, to walk back and tug on his sleeve.
"You want to show me something?" More tugging. "You don't want to go swimming." Squawking and hissing. "Is it far?" A very sharp tug. Haldir looked around to be sure no one was around to hear the conversation he seemed to be having with himself. "Let me get the horse," he answered, leaving Mitzi to preen while he went to the barn.
"I can't believe I'm talking to a flamingo," he muttered as he tossed the blanket hastily over the back of the only horse they actually owned. Fool of a Took was his name, given to them by Gandalf, and it was well-earned for all of his wandering. He was an odd sort of horse, but he did the plowing for the extra carrots he would get. Anything else was done strictly for bribes, and Haldir was glad to find some sugar candies in his pocket.
"It's not as if she even knows what I'm saying. I'm probably hallucinating, but I don't particularly care. I have a song to write and a gift to find, so I'm not very sure why it is that I'm following her." He held out a piece of the hard crystalline candy to Fool, who was giving him a look as if to say, 'Sure, but now you're talking to a horse.'
It was to the cottage that his parents had built when they were reunited in Valinor that he was taken, he riding Fool while following Mitzi's path as she flew. It had not been used in over a year now, but it seemed as if things were in good order. There had been no damage from weather or from animals, save the few cobwebs he found when he and Mitzi entered. The flamingo took a moment to preen again before leading Haldir up the stairs, stretching her long legs to reach each consecutive step.
She took him into the master bedroom, a cozy place with a comfortable looking bed and windowed doors that led to a porch. Giving a peck at the glass, she looked up to Haldir for assistance.
"Well, I don't know what you're going to show me all the way up here, but-" Haldir froze as he stepped out onto the porch. It was small, but it faced West, South, and North. They were high above most everything, being that the cottage was built on a cliff. In fact, they were high above most things in Valinor.
"That's why they built up here," he realized, looking around in the stillness of the late day. From here he saw many of the residences that were on the way to the greater cities, and the forests of the Valar and their halls. He took note of a smaller forest, and an ornate structure that was built by it. "There's Thranduil's Kastle... and over there, Oropher's Palace," he noted in the distance. "And... what's that?"
His gaze settled upon a tall white tower that loomed in the distance. He was so struck to see such beauty that he had to hold the railing for support. "Is that what you brought me to see?" he asked. Haldir looked at Mitzi. The bird was perched on the rail, and made no sound nor noise. Her eyes were set on the tower, staring at it with great longing. "That's your home, isn't it? Why don't you go there? You are able to go there, aren't you?" he asked with sudden worry. Mitzi blinked and looked up at him suddenly before nuzzling her head against his hand reassuringly. "Why aren't you there, then? Why stay here?"
Mitzi looked back to the white tower. It was brilliant in the night, rising up, trying to touch the sky. The clouds separated it from the heavens, and Haldir wondered if one could stand atop it and touch the stars. Something suddenly came to him, recognition from a book he once read, but before he could say anything more, something happened.
Out of the window of the tower, a large, glimmering bird flew, her white wings beating the air slowly but with little effort. She climbed up, higher and higher, before she disappeared up above the clouds.
- - -
Haldir was now in the main room of cottage, which was a very open sort of house. The sitting room contained a fireplace and chairs with throws, many furs covering the floor. After starting a fire, Haldir had gone to the kitchen, which was joined to the hallway between it and the sitting room, with no real walls in between. There he scavenged for anything that might have been left behind that was still edible. Nuts and dried fruit he found in the cupboard and tea also. Outside he collected snow in a kettle to be boiled, and brought Fool into the house. Inconvenient as it may have seemed, the wind was picking up and Haldir needed to wait for Mitzi to return.
"I still don't have a song," complained Haldir as he sipped his tea and watched the fire. A few things had been pushed aside so that Fool could sit with him in the room, and the horse gave him a look in which he tried to convey, 'Look, I'm a horse who just found out that there's something I can sleep on instead of nasty hay or dirt, don't look at me for song help, I'm going to take a nap'.
As the wind continued to rattle the panes, Haldir left Fool to sleep as he explored the rest of the cottage. The rooms seemed to have been put back into order before his parents' departure from them, and all but the barest necessities had been cleared out. The bedrooms contained just the furniture, and meager coverings on the beds. In the closets, there was a quiet emptiness, little more than rooms with shelves. The only place that looked untouched was the attic, which had been turned into a sort of study.
There was a glorious desk that looked as if it had been barely used, and numerous shelves lining the walls. There were some books, and small trinkets placed about. A painting on one wall was of Gondolin he was sure, even in this light, and Rivendell upon the opposite. Only one thing seemed out of place - a note on the desk which read:
E -
I know this does not make up for the pain and grief I caused you, but happiness is yours and was not mine to give. Know that I still do love you, and will forever. Your friend and admirer,
- A
Haldir set the note back down on the desk, unsure of what it meant or who it was for, but it was not a mystery he had time to dwell upon. He assumed that, given the state of the room, he would find parchment somewhere, and he did in the drawers of the desk. Many colors and textures were available and fine pens for writing and drawing as well. Carefully, he selected what appeared to be a very plain sort of implement and a few sheets of average looking parchment.
Then, the void he had been in came upon him once more. His head could not conjure anything that sounded remotely like a carol suitable for singing, let alone one that could be sung in public while sober. Haldir began to look through the books on the shelves, trying once more to clear his mind, when he happened upon something that looked as if it should have been brought along when he parents moved out.
"The Days and Lives of the Kin of Feanor, a publication of the House of the Silver Stars," Haldir read to himself, opening the book. He gasped when he made out the notations at the inside margins. It was not only an original copy, it had been left unfinished, stopping barely twenty years before the Kinslaying at Alqualonde. "You've made it quite a long way in time, little book," he said, setting it reverently back onto the shelf.
There were others, histories and books of poetry, all in the same hand, meticulously neat. There were sketches in many of them as well, and sometimes notes that were folded and placed between certain pages that listed revisions. And there was a box.
It seemed like an ordinary box, but Haldir felt compelled to open the little thing. Inside were scraps of paper, but not written in the hand of the author who had penned but not completed the books here. It was also newer than the books, the paper was crisper, and was not the Valinorin parchment. It was mixed, of Lorien, or Lindon, some from the Havens, Mirkwood, Gondor, Rohan, and so much of it from Imladris.
That was what was written on the first card. Imladris. Or more accurately, the word Karningul was written and scratched out, and beneath it Imladris was scribbled. Each subsequent card had a date, a title, and an event. On the back, if there were any little details, they were written down. Some were important, some not so much, and a few were just plain silly. For example, the card from the second age that declared 'Hired new boarder guard' had the message 'Glorfindel- N/V. Claims was from Gondolin, killed, reborn. Killed balrog(s)? Peculiar, always seems happy. Only here four days, annoying already. Possible transfer to Lothlorien. Walks noisily.'
There was a card for each person that he met, and for every major thing that occurred. Haldir laughed when he discovered one for his mother (She looks at me as if she knows what I am thinking before I think it. Must avoid trips to Lothlorien.), stuck his tongue out when he found his own (Impudent does not begin to describe this one. I swear he is my bane. At least he has a keen intellect.), and cried when he found it, that one, the one he knew was there somewhere, with the stains of tears and time (I have never hated anything, and once I pitied them, but now I hate them and Melkor for their creation. If tracking down every last one and splitting them open to rip out their blackened souls would bring her back to me, this I would do with my own two hands.)
Haldir began to note the ones that related to family members, the happier ones and the funny ones. Elrond's marriage to Celebrian. Elladan and Elrohir coming of age. Arwen's birth. There was a card, the last of them in the box. There was no date, and no event, only a name. Eldarion. On the back was this:
'Arwen asked today what I would name her child. I am leaving in a month's time and will not see the babe born. She knows it is a boy, an heir to Estel. My heart is torn between two that I love, but I cannot delay and she knows this. At least I was able to say a proper farewell to my unborn grandson, little Eldarion.'
There was a stack of clean, blank books on the desktop, and after drying his eyes, Haldir opened one and began to work. Between copying the notes into the book, he would shift back to the loose sheets he had pulled earlier, writing down the bits and pieces of something that he wasn't sure of yet.
Morning came, and with it, tapping on the tiny attic window. Haldir crouched down to open it and let Mitzi in. Mitzi shook herself off away from the books and looked up apologetically. Haldir's shoulders slumped and he nodded. "Well, you tried, and I thank you for that."
Squawking, Mitzi offered one look leg up. There was something tied to it, a white cloth that was wrapped around something. Haldir loosened the ribbons, and the cloth fell open. He smiled at what it revealed. "Perhaps the Yule Celebration wasn't such a bad idea after all."
