-3-
It did not take long for Gilraen to adjust to life in Rivendell. Her initial walls were put up to protect her son and her delicate emotional state. Barriers she had built up were removed quickly, and her trust in the elves of Imladris grew daily. By the end of the first week, she was allowing Elrohir or Glorfindel to take Aragorn for short periods of time so that she could tend to needs of her own, giving her the first chance in a long while to have time to herself.
Sometimes, Elrond would spend a few minutes alone with her, attempting to judge her emotional state. She still remained strong in this respect, but he feared a collapse at any moment.
He was therefore initially unalarmed when a knock came upon his door at an early hour of the morning some three weeks after her arrival. A thin robe was all he needed to retrieve before opening the door. “Good morning, Gilraen. How might I be of...” He paused, reading fear and shock in her eyes. “Gilraen, what is—“ He stopped as he looked down to see the front of her white gown soaked in blood. Without a moment’s thought, he bent down to pick her up and carried her to his bed. “Is the baby still inside of you?”
“I have no idea.” Her words were stuttered as if she were cold. Elrond pulled a drawer out from under the bed and took from it a thick wool blanket. “I left Aragorn alone in the room. Someone should be sent to him.”
“I will have someone do that.” He took hold of a cord at the door of the room and pulled it twice. A bell clanged some three stories up at the top of one of the small towers. “Are you feeling any pain?”
“As if I am giving birth, as I did with Aragorn, but it is too soon!” She had one hand fisted into the sheets, while the other reached out and grabbed for Elrond. She managed to take hold of one of his wrists. “Please, do not leave me!” she begged him.
Elrond nodded, and fumbled at the bedside table to find anything that might be of use until someone arrived. There was a pitcher of water, and a towel just a few feet away. “I need to wash my hands. Will you allow me that? I need to, if I am to save you and your child.”
Gilraen nodded weakly and Elrond did the best he could with the tools he had. He began to light candles and arrange the bedding so that he could work, and that was when Glorfindel arrived. “How can I help?” he asked immediately. The twins were only a step behind, and Erestor and Lindir soon joined them, along with Elrond’s butler and maids.
Orders were given for Glorfindel to go to the healing wing to retrieve certain supplies, while Elrohir was instructed to see to Aragorn. Lindir was to stand guard in the hall and calm any other members of the staff who arrived, while Elladan and Erestor were to assure the guard that no outside dangers had caused the alarm to be rung. Elrond assigned his maids and butler to the menial tasks needed to assist him, and once Glorfindel returned appointed him to aid as a secondary healer.
By first light, Elrond had done what he could and dismissed all others from the room. Glorfindel grimly closed the door, last to leave, and found the others who had been summoned sitting silently in the parlor.
Elladan stood up, his breath held, his eyes searching Glorfindel’s for an answer. The room behind him was silent, except for the faint sound of weeping and Elrond’s voice attempting to soothe someone’s pain. The blond shook his head remorsefully. “We did everything. It was just too early.” Tears were welling up in his own eyes, and Erestor went to him and brought him to sit on the sofa. “He tried, she tried, and I tried, and it... I guess Arathorn wanted his baby daughter with him when he made his great journey to the unknown.” Glorfindel’s tears were free flowing and he made no attempts at covering his emotion, which was quickly permeating the other occupants of the room. “At least Aragorn will be too young to know or remember.”
The remainder of the day was somber, with news traveling quickly. A vigil was held in the Hall of Fire, with Erestor reading passages from both Sedryner texts and those used by the Aphasadorins. That evening, the hall was silent, and the fires all extinguished not only for the loss that day, but in respect for Arathorn’s passing as well.
Neither Elrond nor Gilraen attended. By the afternoon, Gilraen had wept herself into exhaustion, and Elrond took that time to clean the room and make preparations for the infant’s burial. When Gilraen awoke late in the evening, she was bundled warmly in a fresh gown with clean sheets and quilts surrounding her. Even the pillows, stained with sweat, had been removed and replaced. A tray of dried fruit and cured beef was awaiting her, and Elrond sat in the corner in a rocking chair that was brought up from the Hall of Fire.
“I am sure you are not of a mind to eat at the moment,” said Elrond, “but you will need to in order to regain your health and for Aragorn’s sake.” He had been smoking from a long wooden pipe and took another long pull before setting it aside in its tray. “I shall call for some tea or warm milk.”
“Is that Old Toby?” questioned Gilraen as Elrond reached for the small silver bell that would summon the butler.
He looked down at the pipe. “It is. I can be rid of it for the evening if it bothers you.”
“That was Arathorn’s choice for his pipe.” Gilraen smiled sadly. “When the wind blew towards our cabin, I would know of his return before his arrival from the scent on the breeze. I never took Elves to be smokers.”
“I am but half of my counterparts,” Elrond reminded her. “I enjoy a good smoke as well as any Man. There are a few here in the valley who partake in the art, despite their pure heritage. Glorfindel, for instance, has joined me on the porch on more than one occasion, though he always smokes from someone else’s pipe. In fact, I doubt he has one of his own. My sons are also known to smoke now and again – Elrohir more so than Elladan.” He raised the bell. “Tea or milk?”
“Tea with sugar, please.” Gilraen waited as Elrond summoned the servant and placed the request. “I find I quite like Glorfindel.”
“Most people do. There is very little not to like about him.” Elrond smiled ruefully. “He balances out the rest of the staff nicely.”
“He serves as your seneschal?”
“Yes, that is formally his title. He is horse master and Captain of the guard as well,” added Elrond.
“I am familiar with the duties of a horse master and a soldier. Exactly what does a seneschal do?” asked Gilraen.
“He is responsible for all festivals and events,” said Elrond. “We host many gatherings, meetings, and ceremonies here in Imladris. Someone must stay on top of everything. He also minds the budgets, so it makes practical sense for him to have that charge. In addition, he is the one who decides upon punishments for unlawful or unacceptable behavior.”
Gilraen moved the pillows so that she could sit up a little more in bed. “So he is your judge?”
“No, not at all. He simply decides upon the punishments if someone is found guilty. It is Lindir who judges guilt from innocence, when such cases arise,” said Elrond.
“The minstrel? How odd, for him to hold such a position,” Gilraen remarked.
The butler arrived at the door with a tray, which Elrond accepted and took to the bedside. “Lindir is a minstrel by choice, and a lawyer by trade. He studied many years here in Imladris, and when he came of age I hired a series of professionals to come to Rivendell to enhance his studies. He was my ward, you see, his parents were killed in an ambush.”
“So he is more your son, than an employee,” reasoned Gilraen.
“Indeed. Thus, I trust him to make such important decisions.” Elrond heard someone knocking on the door, and left the butler to take care of it. Not long after, the sound of younger son’s voice drifted into the bedroom. “Elrohir, we are in my room,” he called out, and his son entered presently, with Aragorn on his hip.
“Sorry to interrupt, but someone—“
“Momi!” Aragorn was not much a conversationalist yet, but there were some words he knew well. He thrust out his little arms and wiggled his body in an attempt to gain momentum, though Elrohir held him firmly until he reached Gilraen and could safely settle the child in her arms. “Momi sick?” he asked with some concern.
“Yes, baby. Very sick. Elrond is making me well again.”
Aragorn shifted his gaze toward the elf who was rocking in the chair. “Popi?” he whispered uncertainly.
Gilraen’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, he thinks you are his father – he did not see Arathorn very often.”
Elrond rubbed his cheeks, remembering he had not had a chance to shave in several weeks. His heritage and choice afforded him most of the benefits of Elvenkind, but there were some traits that favored the race of Men. “Poor child. I am sorry we were unable to send help in time.” It was really the first time the incident had been spoken of since Gilraen’s arrival, and Elrond chose his words carefully. “What have you told Aragorn of what happened?”
“Nothing.” Gilraen shook her head. “He is too young to understand, and I do not wish to place undue burden on him.”
“I can understand you concern,” acknowledged Elrond. “Had my children been your son’s age when their mother… well, I hardly know what I would have done.” He voice trailed off at the end of his disjointed sentence, and he looked momentarily lost. “Excuse me.” Quickly, he removed himself from the room.
Gilraen looked to Elrohir for an answer. “Have I said something offensive?”
“No, he… he loves Nana dearly. When they married, she was young, but he had seen two ages already. According to Glorfindel and Erestor, she brought the light back into his eyes. When she left, it seems everything in Imladris hazed over, like a fog that never leaves. They have been parted far too long now, and his continued life in Middle-earth is not the choice his heart would make.” Elrohir sighed. “There are times that we, my brother and sister and I, advise him to sail, but he will have none of it. He insists that he must stay and ‘see it to its end’. I do hope he does not mean to see Middle-earth to its end, but with my father I can never quite tell. One moment he can be relaxed and playful, and the other he is brooding for reasons unknown. Such is the curse of all who have seen the First Age, I suspect.”
It took a few minutes for Elrond to return, and when he did there was no hiding his puffed, reddened eyes. There was another tray in his hands, which he used as a diversion. “I took the liberty of ordering extra food so that we might all have something for tea.”
