"There is a letter."
- - -
One large gloved hand held onto a much smaller hand in a mitten, no matter how much she wiggled about, trying to see everything in the valley and how it changed since the snowfall. Branches dusted white amazed her, and more than once she regarded the frost-covered leaves with awe. "Can we bring some to Nana?" she asked when they found a group of late blooming flowers, their petals stretched out in a white canvas of crystals.
"No, they would not make it to the house," Elrond explained. "We must enjoy these out here."
"But they will melt in the sun," said Arwen, looking up to the sky with worry.
"Not all beauty is meant to last." Elrond bent down and picked her up when she did not step with him away from the flowers. "There are many wonderful things that we must enjoy while we have the time, else they will be lost from us."
Arwen nodded and placed her head upon his shoulder. "I wish I could keep those things forever."
"As do I," he said softly.
- - -
"She gave it to Celeborn, only, he had not broken the seal."
- - -
"Open your eyes."
"Must I?"
"You'll hurt the little lady's feelings if you don't."
With a muffled sigh, Erestor blinked his eyes open to the sunlight. He knew that he had been escorted outside, but not quite where Glorfindel had led him. To the left, the blonde was smiling. To the right, Elrond and Elrohir. Elrohir had a most wicked smirk, and it was to him that Erestor looked. "Where are your siblings?" he questioned.
"Uncle Erestor! Over here!" called out Elladan. Erestor looked out over the field before glancing back at Elrohir.
"That's my horse."
"One of them," smiled Elrohir.
Elladan walked the huge dark horse up to the waiting group of elves, with Arwen dancing alongside. "Before you say a thing," began Elladan, "this is not a prank. This was Arwen's idea."
"And the two are not connected?" Erestor muttered under his breath so that only the elf lords on either side of him heard. He stepped forward to the proud horse and looked him up and down. "Morir, you're looking quite... floral today," he said. The horse threw back his head and high stepped his way around the entire group, showing off of the blooms that were woven through his mane and tail.
"My, Erestor, what a queer horse you have," joked Glorfindel with a wink.
With a snort and so only the adults could hear, Erestor replied, "You would know." Glorfindel smirked and blew him a kiss.
"If that means pretty, then yes, he's a very queer horse," Arwen said, complimenting her own work.
"I suppose he's going to make the rest of my horses jealous, isn't he, now?" asked Erestor, patting his lead horse's neck once he stopped prancing about.
Arwen shook her head, tugging on her 'uncle's' fingers when she wasn't sure he had seen her. "No, no, he won't, not at all! I fixed all of them like this!" Erestor gave Elrond a worried look, but the tugging on his hand again made him look back to Arwen. "The carriage, too, it's all decorated."
"Oh. That's... very nice of you," he said, "but I have a race this afternoon."
"I know! That's why I did it!" she said gleefully. "All the rest of the horses are always pretty and braided and yours never are. That always makes me sad, and I think it makes you sad, too."
"I don't have the time to make them pretty," Erestor said apologetically.
"But I do!" Arwen shouted with glee. "At the start of every race," she recalled, "each rider has a pretty lady who puts flower wreaths on his horses and hands him a flower and gives him a kiss. I think I can do all of that if El'n'El help lift me up sometimes. You are going to have the prettiest horses in the whole wide world." She tugged on his hand again. "Uncle Erestor, there's something else!" She motioned impatiently to Elrohir, who grinned and stepped around his father, presenting a package to Erestor. "You have to open it," she explained to him, rocking back and forth on her feet.
Erestor carefully unwrapped the package and pulled from the plain paper a beautifully embroidered jerkin like those of the other horsemasters who raced across the lands. The crest of his house was displayed on the left breast of the garment and shone in the sunlight, the three silver stars prominent above the blue waters. "Shall I ask the occasion?" he questioned softly.
Arwen cued her brothers, father, and Uncle Finny in with a wave of her hand. "Happy Begetting Day, Erestor!" shouted the group, and Erestor blushed when some of the other residents of the house looked up from their daily chores at the little group on the lawn.
"Thank you, but as I have said before, I do not know when that is."
"That's why we decided for you!" Arwen beamed, brimming over with enthusiasm. "Nana said that any day after she finished this, we could do it. She said you liked late spring best, too. It was very hard for us to wait, Uncle Erestor!"
"Listen to you!" laughed Elladan. "It was so difficult for you to wait, not us! We have acquired patience in our old age," he teased.
"Well, so will I," she answered, still fidgeting around. "You should try it on to make sure it fits for the race today," she insisted. "I helped to draw the designs with Papa, and El'n'El dyed the cloth, and Nana sewed it."
Now smiling, Erestor looked at Glorfindel. "And what was your part in all this?"
"They let me pick the day," he answered. "For the most part, it was all little Lady Arwen's idea."
"My lady, I thank you," said Erestor as lowered himself to one knee. "This may be my 'first' begetting day, but 'tis truly the best," he said, kissing her hand as she giggled.
- - -
"Celebrian and I read it this morning."
- - -
"What's wrong with him?" asked Arwen, her arms wrapped around her mother's neck as her father approached them. In the distance, she could see her uncles and brothers standing over a very large creature on the ground. Her mother tried to hush her as they stood watching from the porch. Celebrian placed her hand on the back of Arwen's head to keep her from looking at the scene.
Arwen wiggled towards her father as he approached. "Papa, what's wrong with Morir?" she whined, struggling to be let down. Elrond held out his arms and took his youngest child in his arms.
"There's nothing, exactly wrong," he said carefully. "He has come to the end of his life."
Arwen took in these words with a puzzled look before sneaking a look back around at the horse on the ground in the distance. "That's why he fell down?"
Swallowing hard, Elrond nodded. "Yes, my little love, that's why he fell down. He is old."
"Older than you?"
Elrond gave her a little smile. "No, sweets, he isn't older than I am. But he is very old."
"How old?"
"Thirty-eight years," recounted Elrond.
Arwen gripped her father's arm. "Papa! I'm nearly thirty!"
"Oh, darling child, no, no, don't worry," he said, holding her close. "He was old for a horse. Not for an elf."
"When does an elf get to the end of their life?" asked Arwen.
Elrond held his breath. "Elves do not. If they... die... they are reborn. Glorfindel died once."
"Oh. When will Uncle Elros be reborn? I want to meet him."
Closing his eyes, Elrond said, "He won't be reborn. He chose a mortal life to the life of the Eldar."
"Did you get to choose?"
"Yes." Elrond's voice was barely audible. "I chose to be among elves, he chose the race of men. You and your brothers, you have that same choice."
Arwen looked out across the yard again, seeing that everyone except Erestor had stepped back from Morir, and that the tall elf she called uncle was gently stroking the gigantic horse's neck. She watched the slightest rise and fall from the horse's side, until finally it slowed and stopped. "Is he gone?"
"Yes," answered Elrond simply. "The part that made him Morir is gone. All that is left is an empty shell, of what he looked like to us, but his spirit is gone."
"Where?"
Elrond shook his head. "That I do not know. It is a mystery that only those who choose mortality and death will ever know."
"I don't think I want to know," Arwen said uneasily. "When do I have to decide?"
"Not for a long time, my love," he said soothingly.
"Thank you, Papa," she said, snuggling closer to him.
- - -
"I will read it to all of you now."
- - -
"Can you try something for me?" asked Arwen cautiously. Glorfindel nodded and walked from the table in the private family kitchen to the counter where Arwen had been working for nearly an hour. "Taste this and let me know what you think."
Glorfindel looked down at the plate and picked up a large disk of light brown. He bit into it, chewed the crunchy object as Arwen cringed, and swallowed. "They're a little bland," he said honestly. "What kind of cookies are they supposed to be?"
"They're pancakes," she sighed. "I wanted to make breakfast for everyone. Just like..." Her voice wavered and tears came to her eyes. "Just like Nana used to. But she... she never taught me how."
Glorfindel put down the pancake, which cracked as it hit the plate, and drew her into his arms. "Dear, sweet child, have you heard of the expression, 'it is the thought that counts'?"
"Yes, but I want to cheer up Ada and El'n'el. They are so sad, and Elladan talks more and more of hunting down all the orc in all the land, I fear he and Elrohir will really ride off and do it. And Ada... I know nothing I can do will make him truly happy again, but I want to cheer him up, if only a little," sobbed Arwen.
She cried for a good long time, with Glorfindel simply listening to her thoughts as she spoke them. When she finally began to dry her eyes, he said, "If you'd like, I can teach you to make pancakes."
"You can make pancakes?" she asked. "I thought boys don't cook."
"What do you think we do when we're out on our own in the woods? We'd starve, or all end up eating raw fish. Blech." He led her to the table and sat her down on a chair. "I can cook all kinds of things, and pancakes are one of my favorites. Give me ten minutes and a smile, and I shall be ready to show you how to make them." The corners of Arwen's mouth turned up, and Glorfindel smiled back before he began to pull the ingredients off of the shelves to line them along the table.
- - -
"As we remember her."
- - -
"You've never kissed anyone before? No one?"
His questioned lingered as Arwen traced her fingers along the ivy that grew up the side of the tree. They were sitting on the railing of the highest of the flets, overlooking the vast forest of Lothlorien. She shook her head finally. "Nothing romantic, at least. I've kissed my brothers, and parents, family, and of course Erestor and Glorfindel and Lindir, they are like family. Especially Erestor. I know Glorfindel is the favorite for Elladan and Elrohir, but for me, I like Erestor. And I feel bad for him."
"Why is that?" questioned her companion.
She shrugged. "There is a sadness in him, and he has been hurt."
"He told you this?"
"No, he didn't have to. It's in his eyes, I can tell."
"Do you usually see those sorts of things in the eyes of others?" asked the elf.
"Sometimes I see things, sometimes not."
"Does your father know? Or your grandmother?" he pressed.
Arwen shook her head. "I don't really talk about that sort of thing, not with them."
"But you just told me."
"You're different. You're special, my best friend. I can tell you anything, I think." Arwen played with the ivy leaves again. "Just as you can tell me anything, right?"
"Right," he said without pause, but whether this was true or not, she still did not know.
"Right." Arwen twined her finger around an ivy stem. "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"
"Me? Well, yes," he admitted. "A few times. I thought it was romantic, but now I don't quite know if that was true."
"Why not?"
"Well... I have always heard that it is... special. Magical. Lifts you off of your feet, as if you're not quite on the ground."
"And you never felt that way when you kissed anyone?"
He shook his head. "Not yet at least."
"I wonder what it's like," she said slyly. She turned her head a little so that she was looking at him in a rather demure manner. "I would certainly not mind if someone who knew what he was doing kissed me. Just once," she said, but it was more of a plea.
"Only once?" His hand cupped her cheek and he licked his lips. "Alright."
Arwen's toes curled in her boots and her grip on the rail tightened as a softness pressed against her lips, covering hers and stealing away her breath. It drew back only slightly and the lips upon hers parted. She did the same, relaxing as a gentle haze and tingle came over her. Her heart raced, and her head felt light when he drew back with a lazy smile.
"How was that?"
"Like flying," she answered with a broad grin.
"Arwen!" called out a voice from with in the talan. "Arwen, we are packed, it is time to return to Imladris!" This was accented by a call from the ground of "Halli? Halli, the delegation is leaving! Where are you?"
She scrambled back over the railing. "Haldir, I must go!"
"I know, but you will return? Soon?" he asked hopefully as he placed his feet on the side that faced out toward the ground.
Arwen nodded. "I will only be gone for a short time. You could come with me, as an escort," she suddenly suggested.
"You could postpone your journey and stay here with me a little longer," he quickly said. Arwen bit her lip considering this as the call for her came again. Haldir suddenly took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "No, you had best go, you've been gone from your father, what, twenty years now? I will be here when you return." He kissed her hand and smiled. "Don't forget me," he teased as she ran to the door leading into the talan.
She turned and grinned at him. "Never," she said, blowing him a kiss as she went in.
- - -
"And, that is the end of it." Elrond folded the simple sheet containing barely two paragraphs of text and placed it back into the envelope. Celebrian reached out and placed a comforting hand upon his, and his eyes, red from crying the entire morning, welled up again. "I'm sorry, I must excuse myself," he choked, leaving the parlor quickly.
Celebrian followed, and in twos and threes, the others left as well. It was finally Haldir who remained, staring into the dying fire. A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he looked up at his father. "Well." Haldir looked back to the fire. "That's that."
"She gave me another letter, but I didn't want the others to know. It seemed from the way she spoke that it was something private for you." Pulling a yellowed envelope from his robe, Celeborn handed it to Haldir before quietly leaving.
For some time, Haldir held the envelope in his hands, feeling the corners and the edged of it, running them along the smooth surface. When he finally convinced himself that nothing that she had written could make him cry, he carefully broke the seal and pulled a small slip of paper from it. On it were two words, and a slight indentation. He actually missed it the first time, but upon examination, he realized what it was, and gently pressed his lips to where she had kissed the paper. "Always," he replied as his tears began to fall.
The fire slowly burned out, hissing into oblivion, into some place unknown.
The light of the Evenstar had flickered, faded, and was gone.
