Part Eight
“Is it true, Amroth, that you invented the talan?”
Amroth smiled at Orophin’s eager question. The young elf was full of questions, it
seemed. Amroth did not mind. He had done his best, over the past few days, to answer
every question Orophin had put before him as concisely as he could. He admired the fact
that Orophin was interested in the past, and of what came before him.
Together they sat in Orophin’s talan. His brother Rúmil, with whom he shared it, was out
on patrol. Haldir had a talan in the same tree, it seemed, and he was taking care of his own
duties for Lady Galadriel. This was just as well, for Amroth felt the Marchwarden’s dislike
of him whenever he was near. He knew this was founded in the desire to protect his
brother, and unfortunately there was little Amroth could do to reassure him that he had no
ill intentions for Orophin.
He did have a need of Orophin. This he recognized. And yet, it was not one of the
romantic nature, though the same might not be said of his young friend. Orophin was
bringing him back to life. Orophin was reminding him of what being alive was. Orophin
was giving him the strength and courage he dared not admit that he lacked. Yet Orophin
was also falling in love with him. Amroth found it flattering, but he tried not to encourage
it. He knew as well as Haldir did that it was inappropriate for many reasons.
The darkest of these reasons was Nimrodel.
It amazed him, when he thought about it, that she had not been his first thought upon
coming into full awareness in the healing room in Galadriel’s talan. She had been a shadow
playing at the edge of his mind until Haldir had spoken her name. It had been an
invocation. After that, he could think of little else but his lost love -- except when Orophin
was near to distract him. He was afraid he would go mad with it, and never be able to
perform the task he had returned for so he might be able to enter the Halls of Mandos.
This was why he had requested Orophin’s company from Galadriel.
Galadriel too was watching over the young Galadhrim, but she could see inside Amroth’s
heart well enough to know that Orophin was safe enough with him. She had released him
from his duties that he might help in Amroth’s recovery. Her confidence in allowing this
boded well. It also reminded Amroth that he must not succumb to Orophin’s charms in his
desire for...contact.
Nimrodel. He had given up everything for her -- his kingdom, his people, his beloved
Lothlórien. He had agreed to sail with her to Aman, so that they might marry and live
without fear, in peace. He had waited for her many months at the Bay of Belfalas, and she
had never come. Had something happened to her? Or had she abandoned him? He had
wanted to go and search for her, but the other elves aboard his ship had persuaded him to
wait, and then it had been too late.
His memory of the storm was clear now. The motion of the ship had awakened him. How
had he slept so long into it? It had been tossed like a cork on the waves, ripped free of the
moorings. Every elf on board was running to secure the lines and riggings when he had
emerged from his cabin, trying to secure the ship -- as his thought had been not of the
others who were with him, but of she who was not.
Roundly he had cursed the ship in a display of language rarely used by elves. He had leapt
onto the helm, nearly pitching overboard as Arda grew smaller and smaller in the distance.
No, he would not go without her. No! He would not. He ignored the cries of the elves on
the ship and dived into the water. Black and white rolled the waves. Thunder crashed and
lightning tore through the sky, the only light at this dark dawn.
He should have gone down immediately. It was only his great love for her, his great desire
to reclaim Nimrodel, that had gotten him as far as it did...yet in the end, he had still failed.
Was he to be given another chance now, these many centuries later, now that Galadriel
had revived him?
Amroth was fairly certain that he had come back to discover the fate of Nimrodel. Once
he knew why she had abandoned him, he could take that grief to his heart and allow
himself to die. He had lived beneath the waves because he had been unable to let go
without knowing what had become of his one true love.
He supposed that he could find other reasons to go on. His devoted Orophin would be
devastated, and Galadriel would be disappointed. Or would she? Perhaps she knew that he
was not truly meant to remain in Arda any longer. He should speak with her more on the
subject of her visions. She would not veil them from him, he knew. A few days past she
had gone to her glade no doubt seeking the answer which eluded them both. She had not
told him if she had found them.
Perhaps this might have had to do with Celeborn. The Lord of Lórien had not allowed
Amroth a moment alone with the Lady of Light since he had awakened. This was another
reason he has spent so much time with Orophin. Celeborn’s jealousy was as fresh as it had
been when Amroth was king and Celeborn no more than a bold elfling who dared fight for
the hand of Galadriel. Did he fear losing his lady even now? If he did not see her devotion
to him, he was a fool.
Orophin was still waiting for the answer to his question. Amroth smiled at the young
Galadhrim.
“Yes,” he replied slowly. “Before I thought to put our homes in the trees we lived upon
the ground.”
“At Cerin Amroth, this was where your house lay,” Orophin replied enthusiastically,
pointing out the window. They were not very far from the mound where his house had
indeed once been. He nodded.
“It was not called such in my time. It amuses me to hear it done so now,” he said.
Sunlight streamed through the window and fell on the fair face of Orophin, lighting his
golden hair, kissing the pointed tips of his ears, playing over his full, firm lips. His eyes
were the color of a summer afternoon and they sparkled like fine stars. Amroth knew
Orophin’s enthusiasm came from his interest, and it flattered him.
Orophin caught his staring and took it as encouragement. He moved closer to Amroth and
let his fingers trail over those of the older elf. Orophin’s hair fell forward over his
shoulders as he bent closer, silently asking permission. Amroth froze, knowing that
Orophin was going to kiss him if he did not turn the Galadhrim away. Longing blossomed
in him. What would it hurt to allow a small press of lips?
“Oro!”
The door to the talan burst open, making Orophin jump backwards. Rúmil stood in the
doorway, his eyes wild. Amroth felt both relief and disappointment. Orophin masked his
guilt with irritation as he turned his attention to his younger brother.
“What is it?” he snapped. “You look as though you were being chased by an orc.”
Amroth chuckled slightly as Rúmil nodded vigorously.
“Worse than an orc!”
Orophin frowned. “What could be worse than an orc?”
“Arwen!”
Orophin was silent for a long moment, shaking his head slightly. “Arwen Undómiel?”
“Yes, Oro. She arrived today, with her father and a few others.”
“Why does this bother you so? It is Haldir she likes, Rúmil. He will no doubt volunteer for
a very long patrol, or hide in his talan until they leave.”
“She kissed me!”
“Kissed you? You? Why?”
“I know not, Oro, but there it stands. She always gets me into trouble,” Rúmil sighed,
sitting down heavily. “With my luck, her father will find out and have me whipped for it.”
“Yes, and trouble never finds you without her. I doubt that Elrond will punish you,
especially if it was her idea,” Orophin said. “It was her idea, wasn’t it, Rúmil?”
“Of course it was! You do not think I would kiss her of my own free will, do you?”
“Elrond? This Arwen is the daughter of Elrond of Imladris...and Celebrían?” Amroth
asked, sitting up stiffly.
“Yes, and the bane of my life. Last time she was here, she dived into the bathing pool fully
clothed and ruined a gown that had been a gift from Galadriel, then accused me of pushing
her in.”
“You did push her in, Rúmil,” Orophin said. “I saw you.”
“I only bumped her... she jumped on purpose,” Rúmil pouted.
“Are you going to stay long?” Orophin sighed.
Rúmil looked from Orophin to Amroth and back and realized that he might have
interrupted something. He could not know that Amroth was glad that he had done so. He
was also glad for the warning that Elrond had come to Lothlórien. Elrond, who had
erected a statue to Nimrodel in Imladris, according to Haldir. Elrond...who had once been
his rival for Nimrodel’s affections.
“I was excused from my patrol to escort Arwen to the guest talan,” Rúmil said. He
grinned wickedly. “Now that I have done so, I believe I will stay up here and relax for
awhile.”
“Rúmil?”
A light, melodic feminine voice floated into the room. Amroth sat up straight. It held a
familiar note, but was not the voice of anyone he knew. Judging from the stricken look
which crossed Rúmil’s face, it was the voice of Arwen Undómiel. The daughter of
Celebrían! As deeply as Amroth had disliked Elrond, had he adored the daughter of
Galadriel, whom he had held on his knee when she was an elfling. He had loved her as
deeply as if she had been his own child.
“Tell her you know not where I am!” Rúmil hissed at Orophin. “Quickly!”
She stepped inside the open door of the talan. Amroth lost his breath as he laid eyes upon
Arwen for the first time. She had the dark hair of Elrond, but it lay on her shoulders just as
her mother’s had. Her features were those of Celebrían. She was small of stature and her
gown was a defiant purple. Amroth had always felt paternal towards Arwen’s mother, but
he knew at once that his immediate reaction to this lady was not the least bit fatherly.
“The granddaughter of Galadriel,” he murmured.
She smiled at him. “Yes. I am Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond of Imladris. And you are?”
He stood up and bowed to her in the tradition of kings. It was a rare gesture, reserved for
one as such high rank as she held -- as he had once held. Orophin stood up as well, but
Rúmil remained in his chair, glaring at her.
“What do you in our talan, Lady Arwen?” Rúmil said. “Your father would not approve.”
“And my grandmother would not approve of your abandoning me all alone beneath the
mallorn trees,” Arwen sighed.
“First of all, there were many other elves beneath the trees this afternoon. Second, you
told me you knew how to find the guest talan.”
“I got lost,” Arwen said, widening her eyes, but Amroth saw the sparkle in them. It made
him smile widely and find some small amount of pity for Rúmil. She turned her attention
back towards him. “Forgive Rúmil, he is terribly rude to have interrupted our
introduction.”
“My name is Amroth,” he said slowly. This was complicated, and surely Galadriel had not
meant for them to meet in this way. She arched an eyebrow in a fashion that would have
done her father proud.
“Were you named for the lost king?” she asked curiously. “My father has a statue of
Nimrodel in his garden. It is quite hideous.”
Amroth lifted his own eyebrow. Shock froze the expressions of the Galadhrim and they
looked at him expectantly.
“If that is so, it can hardly be an accurate portrait, for none more fair than Nimrodel ever
walked,” he replied gently. “Except, perhaps, yourself.”
“You speak as if you knew her,” Arwen said with disbelief. “And you flatter me.”
“Arwen,” said Rúmil, “This is that Amroth, the lost king.”
“Rúmil, hold your tongue,” said Orophin.
Arwen laughed. “Do not play games with me, Rúmil, for you will lose.”
She turned and studied Amroth. He wondered how he measured up in her eyes. It was just
as well that she did not believe Rúmil. He expected more questions from her, but they did
not come.
“Well met, Amroth, whoever you may truly be,” she said at last in a soft voice. She smiled
at him, then turned back to Rúmil. “I will see you later,” she said, then turned and left the
talan.
“I wish she would not make such threats,” Rúmil sighed.
“She likes you,” Amroth said frankly. He moved to the doorway and watched her descent.
“Be kind to her. She seems lonely.”
“Does she?” Orophin mused.
Amroth nodded, though it was hard for him to explain just why he felt that this was so. He
hoped that he would be given the chance to speak with Arwen again later. He wondered if
Galadriel and Elrond would permit it. He turned back and saw Orophin staring at him with
questioning eyes.
What a mess Amroth had made of their lives by returning from the dead. What a further
mess there would be before it all ended.
