“Here you are,” said Erestor, almost as if informing Bainith in case he was not aware of where he was. “I expected you in the kitchen, what with all the talk of cakes and pies.”
Sitting on the floor in a corner of the apothecary, the slender Shire-elf looked up at his mentor with a smile. He had a half dozen books spread about, some of them open and others marked with strips of scrapped paper. “Maybe you can help me,” he said as he held up one of the books. “I need to find him a name, but I cannot understand what goes where.”
Erestor walked to the area off to the side and lifted his robes slightly so that he was able to sit down without tripping over them. “For the wedding ceremony,” he assumed as he picked up one of the open books.
Bainith nodded. “He actually already gave me mine,” he said, unable to play off the smile on his lips. “We were in Duillond, at a gathering, and everything came up again about Valanyonnen and.. remember all of those letters that you told Glorfindel to destroy that he gave back to me?”
With a smile, Erestor prepared himself for a conversation that was going to dance around topics, as was proper for a hobbit, and he turned the pages of the dictionary in his lap as he listened. “So Glorfindel did not destroy those letters,” he mused.
“No, sir.” Bainith twirled the quill in his hand, and Erestor was thankful that there was no ink on the nib to splatter about. “They are gone now, though.”
“Hmm.” Erestor glanced up slightly to see Bainith’s expression. It was calm, contemplative, and curious. “What happened to them? Lost in Isengard, like your journal?”
“I tossed them into the river. Well, I threw them out towards the river from a great height...” He paused to put down the quill he was twirling and pick up one he was writing with so that he could scribble something down on a sheet of paper. “I should probably destroy the ring, too.”
“What ring?” Erestor’s head snapped up suddenly.
“The betrothal ring that Valanyonnen gave me. Marriage ring, really, though,” he said with a sigh. “You know, Abeliam has his harp. What is left of it.”
“You gave his harp away?” asked Erestor curiously.
Bainith nodded, his finger sliding down the page he was on. “Why are there no words for sunshine?”
Erestor took the book away from Bainith and turned a few pages, then handed it back. “How are you... feeling?” asked Erestor curiously. Having been through his fair share of bad relationships, he was genuinely concerned for the young Elf who, before his majority, had managed three lovers, two betrothals, and one failed marriage. Here, on the eve of his second wedding night, he was so different from the Elf who had several times risked his life searching for his lost love, and twice even considered suicide as a means to cope with the pain of heartbreak.
A small smile played upon his lips. “I am well,” answered Bainith. He wrote down something from the page that Erestor had led him to. “I think Glorfindel meant for me to have those letters because he knew I had to destroy them myself. He knows a lot of things that are fated to happen, you know.”
“I know,” answered Erestor quickly. “I ask him not to discuss them with me.”
Bainith tilted his head. “Why not?”
“Because I like to think I have free will.”
“Hmm.” Bainith lifted up the sheet of paper. “Which of these do you think?”
Erestor took the sheet and studied it. “Ellothaur sounds too much like his name now, unless you want him to deal with an eternal tongue twister. Ellonur Ellothru-- see, there, I just ruined it,” he pointed out as Bainith chuckled. “And.. well, this one you have backwards, actually, you should have the ‘Glor’ first, but there is a poet in Lothlorien by the same name.”
“Did you know that he plays lute?”
“The poet?”
“No, Ellonur.” Bainith smiled again. “The last time when we were at the market in Michel Delving, he played his lute for me and for those passing by. I need to practice my theorbo more so that I can play with him.”
“Ah. Yes, I seem to recall him playing a few times.” Erestor did not go on to add that those times were usually attempts when Ellonur had been younger to woo Lord Glorfindel. “As I recall, he played well.” Erestor looked around the room. “If I might ask, why do you sit in a corner of the apothecary, when there are perfectly good tables in both of the libraries?”
“I like the atmosphere. I also like to be useful.” Try as he might, whatever Bainith thought he was best at, he had been told several times by various people that his steady hands, friendly approach, and attention to detail made him an ideal healer. It was an occupation that still allowed him to help even when spoken language proved to be a barrier. “I can catch the splinters and bruises and things, so that Lord Elrond is not disturbed for trifling matters.” With fewer residents and more and more guests in the valley, Lord Elrond’s services as a healer were called upon more often.
Erestor nodded in agreement, then pointed to the last name that was left. “This one sounds appropriate. It also flows nicely.”
“Ellonur Auranor.” Bainith smiled, then frowned a little. “I suppose I shall have to deal with double the scrutiny that I have been.”
“Why is that?” asked Erestor.
Bainith chewed on his lip. “Again, I am marrying someone of the same gender.” He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the rows and rows of glass jars on the wall, a rainbow of concoctions and herbs. “I suppose I will hear more harsh words about the ‘again’ part.”
Erestor shrugged. “Your situation is almost like that of Finwe. No one spoke ill of him. On that matter,” Erestor self-corrected. “Except most of Miriel’s family. And a few religious leaders. Possibly Feanor himself. But..” Erestor waved his hand. “You never met Valanyonnen’s family, did you?”
“Not even his daughter, though I stood in the same room as she did once.”
“That right there is the reason you should not worry,” explained Erestor. “He had a daughter. He was married before -- and I know, you have said that he told you she was adopted, that he was not married to her mother, and all of that. But what if what he told you was the lie, and what you thought was the lie was the truth?”
“I have considered that,” admitted Bainith.
Erestor nodded. “For all intents and purposes, that is what everyone else thought. That is the tale we all knew. Only you have another story, and really, that chapter is coming to a close.” Erestor began to close the books and remove the little scraps of paper from the others. “What are you going to do with the ring?”
“What should I do with it?”
“Well... technically, the two are supposed to melt the metal and the silver is never to be used again. However, you only have the one; I think, for now, simply ridding yourself of it would be appropriate. Where is it?”
“Kept here in a vault.” Bainith thought it over. “I think I know what I shall do. You know that little rock that juts up in the pond? That was where we made our promises, when we decided we must be married by our actions. I think I should cast it into the waters from there.”
“An idea that would meet with Glorfindel’s approval,” decided Erestor. He picked up the books and stacked them carefully, then stood with them in his arms. “Are you staying here a while longer?”
Bainith nodded. “I need to say goodbye to Bainith Proudfoot-Whisperwind, because come tomorrow, Bainith Meluion is going to be much too excited to deal with much else.”
As he headed to the door, Erestor reminded himself to scold Glorfindel for his vast amount of interference with his pupil, and then to hug him for the same. “By the way,” he said as he reached the door, “congratulations, Meluion.” He did not add that it was not for getting married that he congratulated him, but for finally accepting his fate.
Story Notes:
[previous working title: Almost Like Finwe]
B2MeM Challenge:(I22) (O68)
(I22)
Occupations:Apothecary
Relationship: Remarriage
Controversial Topics: Fate: Free Will or Preordained?
(O68)
Relationship: Same-sex Relationship
B2MeM Challenge:(I22) (O68)
(I22)
Occupations:Apothecary
Relationship: Remarriage
Controversial Topics: Fate: Free Will or Preordained?
(O68)
Relationship: Same-sex Relationship