“Stay here. I shall return in a moment.” Glorfindel smiled warmly at the woman who was draped in a raggedy shawl. In her arms she held a small bundle, wrapped in a fine white cloak of Elven make, embroidered in gold and fringed on the edges in the same color. It hung down towards the ground, pointing to her worn boots, the fur torn from one and thick mud caked upon the other. Glorfindel received naught but a meager nod in reply, and upon returning the gesture he entered the room which he had knocked upon a moment before.
“My lord, I bring grave news from the North.” Glorfindel walked to the desk, but did not sit down upon one of the chairs, despite his weariness and want for rest. “Many have been slaughtered by the filth of Sauron, and many others have been displaced. One of the survivors managed to make it to our borders, and she carries with her an item of great importance.”
Elrond observed his Captain for a brief time as he finished blotting a page he had just written. “The fate of Arathorn?”
“Arathorn is no more,” said Glorfindel simply. As Elrond bowed his head silently, Glorfindel continued. “His son lives.”
Elrond looked to the door, which had been left ajar. He could hear the shuffling of feet and the sounds of a mother hushing her baby as she tried to rock him. “How did it happen?”
“An arrow pierced his eye. There was nothing I could do. I arrived too late to assist.” Glorfindel looked away from the scrutiny he was under. “I am sorry,” he added. “I doubt I could have aided even if I had been there the very moment it happened. I tried.”
“I know you did.” Elrond looked about to say more, but shook his head. “The child is here?”
“With his mother. I did not want to bring them in before I had a chance to give you the news.” The warrior paused. “She saw it happen.”
Elrond set aside his writing and sat in thought for a little while. Finally, he motioned with his hand. “Have them enter.”
Glorfindel went to the door and stepped behind it. There was a little discussion, and then he opened the door fully. The woman stepped inside, minding the babe in her arms. “Lord Elrond, I present to you the Gilraen and her son, Aragorn.”
With a curt nod, Elrond welcomed them, though he could barely see either behind the fabrics that obscured them. “Greetings to you. Your son is kin to me, and I shall see you both remain safe and provided for so long as you stay here in Rivendell.”
“I did not come to seek charity,” responded the woman. Glorfindel stepped beside her with open arms in an offer to take the infant from her care while she spoke to Elrond. She hesitated, but did settle her son into the arms of the powerful Vanya before stepping closer to the desk to address Elrond. “Safety, however, would be appreciated. I dare not wander to the wilderness with Aragorn; he is yet vulnerable. As am I.” She lowered the hood of her garment back to reveal her face, which bore a mark across the cheek from an enemy blade. “I carried not only my son here to the safety of your realm, but my daughter as well.” She placed a hand upon her stomach, which swelled only slightly. It would have been unnoticed by most, but to the trained eyes of a healer, it was no secret.
“Four months,” said Elrond, and Gilraen nodded. “You have nothing to fear here in Rivendell. It is quite secure in the valley, and we have many here who know the arts of combat who protect our borders.” He tilted his head toward Glorfindel in acknowledgement. “I shall arrange for rooms for you immediately.” He rang a bell upon the desk to summon a page, who rushed into the room after barely a moment’s notice. “Please make Master Melpomaen aware of the fact we have a visitor in need of a room. Her stay is indefinite, and he should mark the room off of the books for now. Preferably it should be in the East wing.”
As the page turned to leave, Gilraen began to argue. “I will not accept charity.”
“This is not charity. You are family; I would not charge my brother, nor would I charge any of his kin. You are welcome here for as long as you would like to stay.”
Gilraen’s mouth twitched as if she might again dispute this, but when her son made a noise of discontent, she acquiesced. “It will be temporary, until I can find a way to repay your kindness.”
“That is wholly unnecessary.” Elrond turned to address Glorfindel before Gilraen could argue any further. “Will you let Lindir know that I will be unavailable this evening?”
“I can do that,” promised Glorfindel as the door was opened, and Melpomaen walked in.
Melpomaen bowed and held out a key on a satin ribbon. “I have readied a room for you and your son. Someone will be bringing food up shortly. May I lead you there?”
“Yes, thank you.” Gilraen took the key that was held out to her, wrapping the string around her wrist. She then took Aragorn back from Glorfindel and held him close to her bosom.
“Right this way,” said Melpomaen as he led the way out of the office. The door was closed by the page, leaving only Elrond and Glorfindel with their thoughts.
“How is she coping?” asked Elrond of Glorfindel.
Glorfindel shook his head. “She is strong, but I am concerned for her overall wellbeing. She refused to let me examine her when I arrived; the boy seems physically unharmed. He did not actually see his father’s death – in fact, I am not certain she has even told her son of the exact events that occurred.”
“I see. Has she been so stubborn the entire journey?”
There was a nod. “I offered my horse; she refused. We eventually persuaded her to use one when a few of the soldiers dropped back and left their mounts with the rest of the party. She will be a challenge. On the other hand, a weaker woman might not handle the present situation as well.”
“Agreed,” said Elrond, briefly recalling his own loss. Though temporary, the absence of Celebrian was painful, and the portrait that hung in his office was a daily reminder to him of her suffering and his inability to heal her whole. “Keep me informed of any changes.”
“Yes, sir.” Glorfindel let himself out of the office, intending to find Lindir so that he could give him Elrond’s message.
Alone, Elrond walked to the ovular frame that held a painting of his beloved wife. “It seems so utterly unfair, that those who are hurting the most must put forth a front in order to keep the darkness from seeing the truth.” He bowed his head in sad reverence. “For a child so young to lose their parents... at least you never felt that sort of grief. At least his mother is here, and I sincerely hope his fate is not a match to mine at that age.”
Story Notes:
NaNoWriMo 2010; Features Rivendell Elves