Part Seventeen
Despite the odd circumstances, Master Elrond, Lord of Imladris, was enjoying himself.
Galadriel had provided food and wine for himself, Erestor, and Amroth which was of the
highest quality. He did not understand why everyone always said that Mirkwood had the
best table in all Elvendom. Everything that Galadriel put forth for them was delicious, and
exquisitely presented.
Elrond had worried secretly at first that he would not be able to abide the presence of
Amroth. Despite the calmness that radiated from the other elf, Elrond saw him still as a
rival. Elrond was generally a calm and collected elf, and very little phased him, but his
undying love for Nimrodel was a stone he could not shake out of his shoe.
"It is an obsession," Galadriel had told him once, quite candidly. He had denied it. Now,
he wondered if she was not correct after all.
Perhaps he should not have come to Lothlórien, but when he had learned that Amroth was
there, no force in Arda could have stopped him. It irked him still that she had actually
invited Thranduil, even if he understood why. Thranduil got on Elrond's nerves. He was
brash and demanding, and Elrond was a bit insulted that he had not been invited to drink
with him and Celeborn.
Galadriel had covered the slight smoothly by asking those who remained to her chambers
for supper, but Elrond had noticed. Sometimes he thought Celeborn would never forgive
him for wedding Celebrían. He knew the Lord of Lórien blamed him for the attack she had
suffered by orcs. Their sons had saved her -- not Elrond. It stung him still. In the end she
could not bear staying in Arda and so had sailed across the sea.
Elrond wondered if he would ever see her again. He remembered how tender and fair she
had been when they first met. Celebrían had loved to read… she was one of the few souls
who had ever made it all the way through the book Elrond had scribed on the History of
Middle-earth. He had filled the library in Imladris for her. She had loved dancing, so he
had learned to dance. He had become quite accomplished at it, though he seldom engaged
in it now, except when Arwen pressed him to lead her.
Celebrían had loved flowers, so Elrond had built the finest gardens in all Elvendom at
Imladris. Nimrodel had loved flowers as well. The statue in the garden was erected to her
memory… a statue he had not put in until Celebrían was gone. He felt ashamed when he
thought about it. Still -- he loved Celebrían. It was a gentle love, an enduring love. She
had given him children who he adored. One day he would sail to Aman and they would be
reunited.
Nimrodel had been lost.
It was true that Elrond had never stopped hoping in his heart that one day she might turn
up. Surely she must still be in Arda somewhere. He refused to believe that Amroth was
right and that all they might find was confirmation that she had truly been lost. Elves did
not die. She had to be out there, somewhere. She must have a reason for not coming to
him.
Well. Perhaps soon they would know. Galadriel had spoken of a search party. The thought
of traveling with Amroth, Haldir and Thranduil to look for her was slightly irritating, but
what choice had he? Thranduil was annoying, in general. He was a maker of trouble.
Amroth seemed a gentle enough soul, but Elrond could sense the power in him, just below
the surface.
Amroth had not fully recovered from his sojourn in the sea, that was obvious. He was pale
and weak, and his skin seemed to hold a matte finish. Elrond was a healer, and he felt the
urge to offer what skills he had to Amroth. Hardly thinking about what he did he drew
forth a packet of dried herbs from his robe and mixed them into the lost king's wine.
Amroth thanked him, took the cup, and drank deeply. He did not ask what Elrond had
given him. He displayed such trust that Elrond again felt ashamed.
Elrond wished also that Haldir would have stayed with them instead of departing with
Thranduil and Celeborn. Those two brutes underestimated the Marchwarden's intelligence.
And… Elrond would not have minded finding himself in Haldir's bed. He occasionally
entertained the idea of Arwen marrying Haldir so that he might keep the talented elf ever
by, but only when he was deep into his cups.
As the hours passed and the discussion turned to tomorrow night's banquet, he was
getting there. He did his best to pay attention and to give helpful suggestions, as he was
famous for his skill in such matters, but it was growing harder and harder as the hour grew
later. Erestor was running off at the mouth, it seemed, and Galadriel was rapped up in
what he was saying. Ah well, Erestor could plan a banquet as well as Elrond could. After
all, it was the Chief Advisor who usually did most of the work.
Amroth seemed to be staring at him a great deal. Elrond pretended not to notice. The lost
king certainly knew Elrond was drunk, that must be it.
"Perhaps you should set down that bottle, Elrond," Galadriel warned him lightly.
"Of course," Elrond murmured, trying to hide his embarrassment. He shifted his eyes
towards Erestor but the excited advisor had not seemed to hear the rebuke. Finally he met
the gaze of Amroth. The former king of Lórien's blue eyes were like stars, sharp and
bright. "The root is helping already," Elrond said.
Amroth nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
"I will give you more tomorrow. A small dose is best. It grows only in Imladris. I should
leave a supply with Galadriel."
Amroth smiled. "I imagine she has not so much call for it."
"Times have grown much darker since last you were in Lórien," Elrond said gravely. "I am
lucky in that Imladris is not set so deeply into the heart of orc country. My kinsmen here
fight them nearly every week along the northern border. She may need more healing herbs
as time passes."
"Orophin too, then," Amroth said. "He is in danger."
Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Orophin? The brother of Haldir, the Marchwarden?"
"Yes, forgive me. We have become very close."
"Ah…"
"Do not misunderstand. He is not my lover, Elrond."
"I did not mean to imply--"
"I understand why the thought crossed your mind," Amroth said dismissively. He drank
again from his goblet and Elrond wondered if Amroth was feeling the wine as much as he
was. "And I admit to entertaining the notion, but it is impossible."
"You remain true to Nimrodel," Elrond whispered, feeling ashamed that he had not been
able to do so himself.
"To her memory? No. It is not that so much as that I do not wish to hurt him. I will not be
here for long, Elrond. You know that."
"Do I?"
"There is another reason, besides," Amroth said.
He looked distinctly blurry now, Elrond thought. He reached for the wine bottle but
Galadriel moved it out of his reach. She turned towards them. She touched Amroth's
shoulder lightly. "Let me set your heart at ease. Orophin is not the lover of my lord
Celeborn, despite what you may have heard."
Elrond felt slightly mortified to hear Galadriel speak this frankly, but perhaps the wine had
affected her as well. "Galadriel--"
"Do you think I am drunk, Elrond?" she teased him.
"I do not know what to think!"
"You spend entirely too much time thinking, my lord," said Erestor.
"Surely you do not think that I should allow Orophin into my bed," Amroth said to
Galadriel.
"I would prefer Haldir, myself," said Galadriel. "So would Elrond."
Elrond could not believe his ears. He threw his head back and laughed. Suddenly he felt
closer to Galadriel than ever he had before. To hear her be so candid was refreshing. She
began to laugh with him, and it leant her an air of youth that reminded him achingly of his
wife, who had been in face and form very much like her mother. When he stopped
laughing, he wondered if Galadriel had truly slept with Haldir. Somehow he did not think
Celeborn would have invited the Marchwarden to drink with him if he had.
Amroth smiled and shook his head. "Orophin is young and serious."
"Indeed he is," said Galadriel. "I knew you would not trifle with him. Love is a fleeting
bird. We may admire it, and it may sing for us at times, but we may never truly capture it."
A pang of sadness shivered through Elrond's heart at her words. He did not wish to think
about them too deeply at this moment.
"Follow your heart, Lord Amroth," Erestor said earnestly. Elrond looked at his advisor
and lifted an eyebrow.
"I never knew you to be a romantic, Erestor," he said.
"I am rarely stirred," Erestor confessed.
"Be glad," said Galadriel. "None of us who sit here in such merriment tonight is stirred
quite as often as some elves are. Yet when we do find love, or even simple passion, we
taste it with far more strength than those who lie with a new companion every night."
"To that I will raise a glass," Amroth said. He picked up the wine bottle and refilled all of
the goblets on the table. Elrond liked him much more in that moment. They all lifted their
cups. "To love and passion. May it touch each of us soon."
"Here, here," said Erestor. He glanced slyly at Galadriel. Or had Elrond imagined that?
"And to Nimrodel," Elrond added. They drank again, though the second toast was far
more solemn.
"To Nimrodel," Amroth echoed. "May we find news of her destiny."
"May we find her," said Elrond.
"May we all find what we are seeking," said Galadriel.
"And on that note, I will seek the bed you have graciously provided me with," Amroth
said, smiling at Galadriel.
Elrond took this as his own cue to depart for the night. He thought of his daughter and
wondered what she had been doing all evening. He really ought to check on her. "I will
follow you out," he said, rising to his feet a bit unsteadily. "Come, Erestor."
"One moment, Erestor. I still have need of your expertise," Galadriel said in her musical
voice. "I will send him to you when I am through with him, Elrond."
Elrond was tempted to read into her words, but he forced his mind off of that path. Surely
she meant something to do with the banquet. He nodded. "Good night, my lady."
Elrond followed Amroth out of Galadriel's chambers, down the stairs through the
reception area, and out into the cool air of the night. He looked at the long staircase
leading down to the ground and took a deep breath.
"Do you not like our talans?" Amroth asked with amusement as he stopped at the turn
which would lead him to his room.
"I confess I am missing the easy terraces of Imladris at this moment," Elrond said.
"Though truly I do admire your invention. The view is spectacular, and the added safety of
being up so high is cunning."
Amroth laid a hand on Elrond's shoulder. "I am glad that we were able to speak together
tonight, Master Elrond. I hope that there will be no rivalry between us."
"No," said Elrond, though he was not entirely sure that he meant it. "No rivalry. Your
company has been an honor."
"I need what allies I can make," Amroth admitted. "I fear that Celeborn sees me as a
threat. This would explain his treatment of Orophin."
"Haldir will not allow anything to happen to Orophin," Elrond said, but he did not know
to what event Amroth was referring. "Still, walk softly with Celeborn. Thranduil will side
with him."
"I know."
"We will find Nimrodel," Elrond said, clapping Amroth on the shoulder. "And I will make
no move to stand between you."
Amroth smiled wanly. "I hope you are right," he said. "Good night, my friend."
The former king disappeared into the tree, leaving Elrond to find his way down and back
to his own room.
