“How fares your story, my brother?” Celebrian asked as Rumil entered onto the balcony where he had been asked to breakfast with his sister and Lord Elrond.
“I suppose you knew of the story already as well?” Rumil found a comfortable place at the small table, choosing a seat that overlooked the gardens below.
Celebrian slid into the chair opposite so that she could monitor the door. “What kind of parent would I have been if I didn’t know what my children were reading? However, for all my Lord Husband knows, I myself only just found out yester eve when he explained things to me himself. And that you intend to place him into your tales.”
“I told him that I would. In exchange, I will be provided with parchment and he will hide the stories for me when they arrive here. You don’t think it’s a good idea?” Rumil poured tea for three, glancing behind him when his sister did not answer.
“We both think it’s a splendid idea.” Elrond approached Celebrian first, greeting her with a morning kiss, then sat between her and Rumil. “We have but one request. Rather, my Lady Wife has but one request.”
Rumil shifted his gaze to Celebrian, who was smirking rather reminiscently of the way their eldest brother did – something neither he nor Orophin could ever quite pull off. “Out with it,” he said simply when she merely continued to study him with mischievous eyes.
“I want to be in the story, too.”
- - -
They entered now across the threshold of the Valley of Splendor. The Grey Archer, as always cautious. The Cloaked Stranger, indifferent as was his way. Both appraised the sight, though not to their greatest liking, still beautiful it was to them.
Orophin rode into Imladris first – Haldir granted him this small request after Orophin had been able to translate enough of the poem to know he wouldn’t be reciting it at any family reunions. It wasn’t far into the afternoon before Orophin had begun to learn the meanings of the songs he was so fond of singing as well.
“You knew all this time, and you let me bellow them at the top of my lungs! I now know why that band of men stayed clear from us as we passed,” huffed Orophin.
“It wasn’t what you were singing, but how you were singing,” explained Haldir. “Your voice is as gentle as stone and as sweet as the stench of an orc.”
Few second had passed between Haldir’s evaluation and his being knocked clear off of his horse. The two brothers wrestled upon the ground for many minutes, with no clear winner as they remounted, smiling playfully as they brushed dirt from their scraped arms and torn cloaks.
- - -
“What a sight you both are.” Celebrian shook her head as Orophin and Haldir dismounted, the younger running to embrace his sister, lift her from the ground, and spin her round not once, but twice. She laughed and returned his hug despite his ragged appearance.
“We ran into a troop of orcs some ways back. We made short work of them,” Haldir explained as he approached Celebrian, and also Elrond and Rumil, who stood now some few feet away.
Elrond appraised their appearance, frowning. “You could not have encountered them far from here. Your wounds are still quite fresh.”
“I fell from my horse,” Haldir said quickly. “The path is quite rocky.”
“And Orophin?” Elrond asked, noting the younger had more than just scrapes, but cuts and bruises as well.
“I fell from my horse, too,” Orophin answered. “But, it was deliberate. I didn’t want Haldir to feel bad that he fell from his, so, I took a tumble to make it even. Guess I don’t fall well.”
There was an uneasy silence while looks were exchanged between everyone. Finally, Rumil asked, “So, what were you two fighting about.”
“He said I sing like an orc smells,” Orophin admitted. “And he wouldn’t tell me the meaning of a poem Glorfindel taught me in Westron.” Haldir shot Orophin a look meant to stop him from continuing, but Orophin was not facing Haldir. “And when I found out what it did mean, he spent the next hour laughing at me.”
“Was it the poem about your Ada and the swan or the one about Thranduil getting drunk?” questioned Elrond to the surprise of all.
“Neither. I mean, well, what I mean is-“ Orophin stopped as Haldir kicked his foot.
“What he means is that he was going to go to Glorfindel and demand that a end be put to these lewd limericks at once,” offered Haldir.
Elrond sighed. “Pity. There are some rather delightful ones he has penned.”
“Including one entitled 'The Arrogant Galadhrim',” added Celebrian. After another bought of silence, Celebrian acquiesced with a smile.
“There is no such poem?” Haldir guessed hopefully.
“There is no such poem,” confirmed Elrond. “Yet. Now then, though I hate to cut short the reunion of brothers and sister, I should think tending to your injuries should be addressed,” suggested Elrond.
Haldir and Orophin both conceded, but not before Orophin had passed a scroll to Rumil, somewhat to the surprise of the eldest brother. “It is from Nana, she said Celebrian could read it, but not us. That is why I carried it and not Haldir. She wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t peek.” Haldir crossed his arms in indignation as Rumil accepted the message.
“Thank you, Orophin. I suppose I shall not see either of you until this evening’s banquet?” questioned Rumil. “I did have an itinerary, but seeing as your condition probably could use rest-“
“I hope it was not a lengthy itinerary, Rumil,” interrupted Haldir. “We must leave in the morning. We are expected back as soon as we are able.”
“Oh.” Rumil’s hands fidgeted with the scroll they held. “I understand.” He waited until his brothers had left with Elrond before turning to Celebrian. “First they send them early, and now I am being forced back immediately. She knows I don’t want to leave, doesn’t she? She’s punishing me for something. Probably knows I don't want to leave Imladris.” Rumil’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked to his sister for answers.
“Nay, Rumil, Nana would never invade your thoughts in such as way. She is kind and loving, she would not think to punish such a kind elf as you. Haldir and Orophin are of course a completely different matter, and I hope she tans their hides for ripping their riding capes in such a dreadful manner!” teased Celebrian, causing Rumil to smile briefly. “Let us see what she has written first, shall we?”
“She said you could see it, will you read it to me?” asked Rumil.
Celebrian unrolled the parchment as she broke the seal, and lifted it to read. “To my most loving and carefree elflings, Rumil and Celebrian, I trust you are both doing well in Elrond’s care. Many years now have I wished for you both to visit the woods and bring your light to help brighten the darkness that creeps across the whole of Arda. Soon, too, would I like to be in Rivendell once again, to see it in its splendor, and to see my grandelflings again. I hope when I next see them I might be able to tell them apart from one another.
“I apologize, Rumil, for the abrupt departure you are being forced to make, but times are dark and I fear our secrets will be revealed if you stay in Imladris any longer. I hope we will find some way for you to continue your writings and artistry so that you may continue your story. Do not allow your brothers to intimidate you during the journey home. May the Valar bless you both. All my love, Nana.’” Celebrian squinted. “Wait, there’s a postscript for Haldir and Orophin. It reads ‘To my bravest and boldest elflings, Haldir and Orophin, If you have read this, when you return I will know. All my love just the same, Nana.’”
“Is there no one who does not know of my story?” Rumil sighed.
“It seems, only Haldir and Orophin.” Celebrian rolled the scroll back up, handing it to Rumil. “It is the only reason I can see for her not wanting them to read this.”
“That is odd. That she would keep such a thing from them,” decided Rumil.
Celebrian refused to comment much further, mentioning only that “Nana does herself love a good joke now and again.”
- - -
Rumil excused himself from the evening festivities earlier than anyone could have anticipated. It was not because he was upset at having to leave Rivendell, as he knew he could not hope to stay at the Last Homely House indefinitely. He had, however, expected that he would have had enough time to complete the drawings he planned for King Thranduil’s Library.
It was not expected that he would have company. As Rumil drew the leaves on the mallyrn, two small elflings approached. Neither said a word, one drawing nearer to him on either side, until he had an elfling leaned upon each shoulder, intently watching his work. “What can I do for the two of you?”
“Tell us what it is that you are drawing,” answered Elrohir.
“For we have seen it before, and wish to know its name,” added Elladan.
“Where have you seen it?” questioned Rumil, continuing to draw. He bit his lip as he realized the answer to his own question.
Elrohir sat up, placing his arm upon the log Rumil had his back to, and his head upon that. “If we tell you, you mustn’t tell anyone else.”
Elladan did the same on the other side of Rumil. “It has been our secret for many years.”
“Share it with me, and I shall keep it for you both.” Rumil had kept many secrets for the twins, and part of him wondered how they had managed to keep from sharing this one with him for so long.
“We receive messages,” began Elrohir.
“From the Valar,” added Elladan.
“We don’t know for sure if that is who sends them.”
“Who else could it be? They appear in our room as if magic, and the drawings are flawless.”
And so Elrohir and Elladan told their tale to Rumil. And he listened carefully, hanging upon every word of praise they spoke, committing to memory each question they had, taking into consideration what they liked best and least of that which they had read. The amount of feedback was tremendous, but reasonable considering he had first begun writing the story some twenty years ago at least. When finally they had finished, Rumil told them all about the picture he had drawn, describing in detail the Great Mallorn, the flets, and who the Galadhrim were, all without once making a connection between Lothlorien and the stories of the Grey Archer and the Cloaked Stranger.
“Can you tell us about Mithlond?” asked Elrohir.
“Mithlond?” repeated Rumil.
“Or show us – can you draw it?” Elladan asked.
“I could try,” admitted Rumil.
“And Mirkwood – I’d like to see Mirkwood,” Elrohir spoke again.
Rumil squeezed his eyes shut. “Legolas has described it for me this evening at dinner. I shall do my best.” Rumil opened his eyes and began to sketch on a fresh sheet, one curious elfling on either side.
