Haldir held up the yellow fruit so that Celebdreth had a clear view of it.
“Apple,” he responded in a clear voice.
Haldir nodded, handed the elfling the apple, and pulled another item out of the lunch sack.
“Lemb-uh, way bread,” he corrected himself and was rewarded with the wafer.
“Ai, Elbereth, will you let him eat so we can continue?” Rumil had spoken in Sindarin, and was under a different tree with Orophin, eating lunch as well. The three brothers were trekking their way to Gondor to deliver messages and catch up on news of the realm. “I think you have taught him enough Westron to get by – he speaks it better than Oro and I as it is.”
Celebdreth smiled wickedly. “I speak it better than Uncle Haldir, he only knows more words than I do.” Rumil’s son was much like a younger version of Celeborn, with the exception of his darker hair, an unusual mix of silver and bronze.
“Well, it is very rude.” Rumil wagged a finger at both his heir and his older brother. “You speak so fast, and have not the decency to translate. You could be speaking gibberish for all I know.”
Haldir sighed. “Your father can be very intervententionistical sometimes.” He tossed the water skin to Celebdreth, who grinned.
“Alright, Hal, I do not know what you said, but I know it to be an insult.”
Haldir looked calmly at Rumil. “Dear brother, I merely told my nephew how right you can be, for intervententionistical is another variation for the word ‘correct’. Truly, your words should be heeded, for it is time he be allowed to finish his lunch.” Behind him, Celebdreth bit into his apple, shaking with silent laughter.
Rumil glanced at Orophin, who hid his grin unsuccessfully by turning away. “Just wait, the both of you. I am going to relish teaching my future nieces and nephews the sneakiest of tricks and best of jokes to play on their adars.”
“Not I.” laughed Orophin. “Valarda has made it quite clear that we shall only have elflings if I have the first.” Orophin looked to Haldir, who looked serenely to Rumil. “And I have opted for the safer path, proving once again to be the wisest among us.”
“Just you wait, my brother. One day, it will happen. You shall take but one look into the eyes of your beloved, and the great arrogant Haldir will fall.”
- - -
‘Fallen, I have, but in battle, not in love.’ Was he in Mandos yet? How would he know? How long would he stay?
He remembered how he had contemplated such things once in Rivendell with the three elves he considered himself closest to next to those of his family.
- - -
“Elves live until the end of Arda, but then what?” Legolas threw the small rubber ball above his head, then caught it. “I mean, we are immortal, but everything has a beginning and an end, so at some point, will we cease to be? And then what?”
“What would it matter?” Erestor turned to the next page in his book. “If we ceased to exist, I doubt we would ever know, and even if we knew, there would be little to be done about it.”
Legolas clutched the ball and turned to Haldir. Haldir sighed, looking at his folded hands. Legolas was a bit like another brother, sometimes acting the elder, imparting his knowledge upon Haldir, other times looking for reassurances from the Lorien elf, just as Orophin and Rumil did.
“I think, that although we have a beginning, that the Valar would not be so unkind as to cease our existence. I do not think you need worry.”
“What are we worrying about?” Glorfindel approached the trio, leaning his head to the side a bit. “What in the name of Varda are you doing?”
Legolas dropped his ball, let it come back to him, and dropped it once again. This time, Haldir caught it, tossing it up toward his feet at Glorfindel, who grabbed it with one hand. “Just hanging around,” answered Haldir.
“I can see that. The question should have been why.” Glorfindel studied the three elves that were anchored to the low branch by their knees, hair pooled beneath them on the ground. “You look like three overgrown possums.” He stepped around cloaks, quivers, swords, and bows that had been removed lest they become a hindrance.
Erestor held out his book to Glorfindel, who took it and began to read from the open page. “ ‘It is when one is surrounded by nature, and fused with the sights, sounds, and feelings of the environment, that the mind can be cleared of unwanted thoughts and focused upon more philosophical pursuits. Highly recommended are trees, but areas near steams and rivers are also acceptable. It is not suggested that one attempt such meditations near the sea, as the pull of Valinor tends to supersede any attempts of the following exercises.’ Alright.” Glorfindel skimmed the next few pages, then handed it back to Erestor. “But that does not explain the upside-down part.”
“We got bored of sitting on the branch,” admitted Legolas with a shrug.
“You got bored of sitting,” snorted Haldir. “We got tired of trying to carry on a conversation with you while you stared at the ground.”
“Haldir, you have to admit, the conversation became more interesting once we decided to hang from the branch as well.” Erestor closed the book and gently tossed it onto the pile below. “Though, the setting sun reminds me it is nearly time to head back to the house.” Erestor reached up to grab the branch when he felt the tree sway. All three hanging elves turned to look at the trunk, where they were alarmed to see Glorfindel had begun to edge out onto the branch. “Fin, stop right there. This branch will not hold more than the three of us.”
“Sure it will. It is a good, strong tree.” Glorfindel sat down on the branch, and the others cringed, feeling the tree lean a bit. “And I wish to philosophize with you.” A moment later, Glorfindel was hanging from the tree as well. “See, now, where were you?”
“End of Arda. What happens to the elves?” Erestor listened to see if he could hear anything cracking or groaning under the weight of the extra elf, but the tree seemed well enough.
Before Glorfindel was able to give his opinions on the matter, they were interrupted by a squirrel that decided to hop down from a higher part of the tree, run across their knees, and consequently, most ironically, as the rodent hit the damp ground, so did all four elves, along with a good chunk of the tree.
“I think I have fused with enough nature for the day,” decided Erestor, pulling twigs and bark out of his hair.
“I think I could use a bit of fusing with a stream or a waterfall or something,” said Legolas, trying in vain to wipe the dirt from his arms.
“We could probably all could use a jump in the pond before supper.” Glorfindel pulled Haldir up off the ground, linking arms with him and Legolas. The Greenwood elf pulled Erestor alongside the others. “And while we travel, I shall tell you my theories on such nonsense as the end of all, for I had little else to ponder all those years in Mandos.”
- - -
‘All those years in Mandos…perhaps I am there now. Perhaps this is what it is.’ He felt nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing, saw nothing, tasted nothing. A vast nothingness surrounded him, but at least, it was something. He tried to recall what he had last remembered – Estel, bent over him, the stench of the battle, the yells of the uruks – then nothing.
