Elrond peered over the shoulder of his pupil, nodding as he watched Rumil carefully finish the final sentence he had copied. "You strive for perfection in your writing."
"Nay, it is not writing, my Lord, it is art. Each word, each character, each stroke is not merely a copy of the original. It is an interpretation of the former. One can greatly affect the mood of the reader by the style chosen." Rumil placed the quill carefully back into the ink jar to rest. "I only hope the readers do not absorb my mood whence they read it." Testing the ink to see that it had dried, he carefully stacked the pages he had been working on.
Elrond frowned slightly. "You are troubled. Are you not looking forward to seeing your brothers once again, after so long a time here?"
"On the contrary, I am very much aching to see them both once more. Rather, I regret my imminent departure from your realm. Though born of Lothlorien, I think my heart shall belong always here in Imladris," admitted Rumil quietly.
Elrond nodded once again. "Your sister is much of that opinion as well. Though she frequents the Golden Woods to walk among the mellyrn and see her family, it is here where my Lady Wife always returns. Though, not only for my sake," chuckled Elrond in one of his rare bouts of laughter. Indeed, they had once been rarer still, but young Rumil usually seemed to lighten the hearts of those in Rivendell. When Rumil responded with a sigh, Elrond's frown deepened more than its former state, and his brow furrowed considerably. "If you might have been any other from `Lorien, I would gladly extend an eternal invitation for you to live here. I regret to say the most I may do for you is extend invitation whenever you might be given leave by your Lord and Lady to visit."
Elrond placed a hand gently upon the young elf's shoulder. "Consider the Last Homely House your home away from home."
Rumil smiled ruefully. "That I shall, my Lord. I thank you for your kindness as always. I must now take my leave, or else be late for my lessons with Master Erestor."
"Let me not keep you from your learning, then." Elrond stepped back so that Rumil could stand and gather the items from the desk. "What histories will my advisor be telling you of this day?"
"Master Erestor has promised a lecture on Beleg and Turin, with an emphasis of knowing your friends and knowing your enemies," answered Rumil.
"Ah, yes. Be sure he tells you about Anglachel, but then, I am sure he will not leave a single detail from his lesson." As an afterthought, Elrond added, "And be sure he does not catch you drawing in class. I see nothing wrong with it, as long as you can recall your lessons, but Erestor tends to think it a nuisance."
Rumil swallowed audibly, unsure of whether he should prepare an apology, but Elrond looked up, smiled, and said, "He has made more than one complaint regarding it to me, but I do not think you endanger the parchment supply, as has been suggested. I only wish I might see some of your drawings before you leave for Lothlorien. If they are at all like your penmanship, they are sure to be masterpieces."
Rumil cringed, and turned sheepishly to face Elrond. "You may agree with Master Erestor if you were to see any of them." Hesitantly, Rumil slid a page from his stack and held it out to Elrond.
The Lord of Imladris took the sheet with great curiosity. "Rumil, these are superbly done. And an ingenious idea, a story told with words and pictures upon the same page. So these are the famous Grey Archer and Cloaked Stranger...I have heard Elrohir and Elladan tell tales of them, but ne'er did I imagine them thus."
"An uncanny resemblance to two you know?"
"Yes...I would have called them otherwise." Elrond handed the sheet back. "Do you have many more of these?"
"Nay, though I have drawn thousands of pages since I came to stay here," admitted the young elf.
"Do not tell me Erestor has taken them from you."
"Nay again. Your sons keep them in their care, safely tucked under bed and behind door." Rumil could not believe he was revealing all to Lord Elrond, but instead of ceasing, he continued to explain when he began, how he stole away the parchment needed, right down to the ritualistic hiding of the pages in the twins' room. Elrond, for his part, was entirely focused upon Rumil's tale.
"So you see," the Lorien elf finished, "when I leave, they will know I have been the mysterious storyteller, as they won't receive any more of the story. They so enjoy the story, and I too, in writing it."
"If you keep writing the story, and send it here with the messenger, perhaps someone here might find the time to get the pages to the twins," suggested Elrond.
Rumil stepped closer to the elf lord. "I would need parchment, as well. That which is from Lothlorien is a different color. They would notice the change."
"When you leave Rivendell, take what you can carry with you easily, and I shall have more sent to you as needed," promised Elrond.
Rumil beamed with excitement. "You do not know how grateful I am for this, Lord Elrond. Is there anything I may do for you in return?"
Elrond smiled as he shook his head. "The years you have spent here and the time and effort you have put into your studies are adequate to grant this request. I wish only that you would have taken to Westron as your eldest brother had."
"Truly, it is a shame that Orophin and I do not share the proficiency Haldir has with languages," Rumil agreed.
"Westron is not for everyone," Elrond said simply. "Although, Elladan and Elrohir speak it as well as they do our native tongue. Soon they will be instructed in other subjects as well. I hope they will have as much talent and respect as my last pupil has had." Elrond placed a hand upon Rumil's shoulder and smiled warmly.
An idea came to the younger elf. "How long before you intend to teach them formally?"
"Not for another twenty, perhaps thirty years, at the least."
"I could write you into the story," mused Rumil. "Make you a great keeper of knowledge, from whom the Grey Archer and the Cloaked Stranger would learn much...though, he isn't really a cloaked stranger now..."
"From what I remember, neither the `Grey Archer', nor the `Cloaked Stranger' were greatly fond of me," Elrond reminded him.
"You can be the mysterious character – most good stories have one of those in them – and your sons will absolutely admire your character. When you are ready to begin instruction, I can reveal the character in the story – and they will be completely in awe, they will be the two most astute pupils you have ever taught!" Rumil continued to plot in his mind, but remained silent to let Elrond think about his plan.
The Lord of Imladris sat down upon a seat near the windows, contemplating what Rumil was scheming. A bold knock upon the door shook him from reverie.
"It is Erestor, I am late for my lesson!" Rumil headed to the door, but instead, found Celebrian standing on the other side with an assortment of scrolls and packages.
"I would like to think I'm prettier than Erestor, and quieter by far." She crossed the room to hand her husband the deliveries. "There is a note from father in amongst the correspondence. He planned to send Haldir and Orophin earlier than anticipated. We should expect them in a few days, not a month."
Rumil's expression became gloomier at these words, but he tried not to show it best he could. Celebrian kissed Elrond gently upon the forehead before turning back around to leave. "Rumil," she added, just before shutting the door, "I passed by the offices of the council members just moments ago. One of them was cursing like a mad orc, though I can't imagine which it might have been."
"I must take my leave, my Lord, Master Erestor is likely furious, and I have kept him waiting long." Rumil was about to follow after Celebrian, but Elrond stopped him.
"I have skimmed the message from Lord Celeborn, and it seems your brothers bring with them some horses taken in an attack against Lorien that are not needed in the golden woods. I will need to make sure preparations are made for their stay, as well as for the feast for their arrival. I will need you to see that there is ample feed for the horses they bring, as well as room in the stables and staff for grooming and feeding them." Elrond handed the letter to Rumil to read, adding, "You will have to tell Erestor his lesson is cancelled for the day, but be sure to take the parchment you need before you forget. The next few days will be busy ones, as I am expecting other visitors as well, and I will have to count on you to keep your brothers and their party occupied during their stay here."
"Of course, my Lord." Rumil finished the letter quickly, then darted out of the room to Erestor's office.
- - -
The sun was slowly rising in the sky as the Grey Archer and the Cloaked Stranger headed south, stopping only briefly to allow the horses time to graze and rest.
"I don't see why I had to come with you to Rivendell," Orophin said, capping the wineskins he had refilled in the nearby stream. "It is a silly place."
Haldir raised a brow at him, awaiting further explanation. When none was given, the issue was pressed. "And what, pray tell, makes Rivendell a silly place in my brother's eyes?"
"It is a silly place where they speak a silly tongue and hold silly meetings. And they all live in one big house instead of a tree. I should think one would hold personal privacy in enough regard to wish to live upon their own flet." Orophin tossed one of the wineskins to Haldir, and fastened the other to his horse. "And they don't have lembas."
"Silly indeed. Do you know how often Rivendell has been attacked compared to Lothlorien? The elves there are not scattered as they are in the woods, it is easier to protect one homely house than it is a thousand telain. The bricks of the House of Elrond do not burn as easily as do the trees of our homes. My own privacy has been many times compromised in a tree with no door and no walls, and not only by kin, but by snow and rain as well. Speaking Westron allows them to converse with men, dwarves, and halflings alike." Haldir paused to catch his breath, and added, "They don't have mallyrn, so they can not make lembas."
"If they imported the mallorn nuts they could," Orophin countered. "Clebri knows exactly how to make lembas. We wouldn't have to bring our own when we visited, then."
"And would Westron-speaking house-dwelling meeting-holding elves in Imladris eating lembas make it less of a silly place?" Haldir asked as he mounted his steed.
Orophin frowned. "That it would not. It would still be a silly place."
"Exactly," Haldir agreed.
Orophin, not quite sure how the discussion had ended so abruptly, edged his own horse to the stream to drink. "And how long until we reach the silly city?"
"Two days. More if you continue to shout and cause orcs to hear us. More still if they also find us and bother us and cause me to toss you into the stream," answered Haldir, rounding the rest of the horses up.
"Hold it, now. Why would I be tossed into a stream if the orcs find us?" demanded Orophin.
Haldir shrugged. "I'm just warning you of the consequences ahead of time."
Orophin shook his head. "It's a damned good thing we're getting Rumil back so that I have someone sane to talk to for a change."
Haldir smirked, and turned his head to look at Orophin. "You can always talk to Ada and Nana if my conversations do not please you."
"As I was saying, it's a damned good thing we're getting Rumil back," repeated Orophin as they continued their journey.
