Part Twenty-Nine
Amroth would never have admitted to Elrond how tired he was. He would have liked to
remove the bodies of the orcs from the area just as much as the Lord of Imladris, but he
found he had not the strength. Orophin bade him sit as the young Galadhrim set about
building a second fire, and Amroth gladly complied. Erestor and Elrond quietly joined him.
Thranduil had disappeared deeper into the trees to look for Haldir and Legolas, and
Arwen and Rúmil had gone back to gather what might be left of their possessions before
setting up their watch.
The orcs were all dead and they were safe now. He could feel this, and so could Elrond --
Amroth could see it in his expression. He could feel something else, as well. There was
something alive in this place, something soothing and good. It was a place touched by
Elven magic. There was something familiar to what he felt here, something that both
calmed and agitated him at once.
"Nimrodel," Elrond said to him softly. "It is her presence."
"Or perhaps it is an echo of her presence," Amroth said doubtfully. "The maid herself is
not here, Elrond."
Elrond nodded, but he did not look entirely convinced. He closed his eyes and took a deep
breath, and Amroth became aware that Elrond was just as tired as he was. Still he did not
confess his own weariness. Orophin had the fire going now and he sat down next to
Amroth, looking at him with concern.
"I do not feel this force you speak of," he said in a low voice. "Yet I find this place a
pleasant one, even after having been attacked."
"Then you do feel it after all," Amroth assured him. Orophin smiled. Amroth was touched
by the kindness and beauty of the young elf. He felt a rush of desire and brought his hand
to Orophin's cheek, smiling back at him. Orophin's lips parted slightly and his eyes offered
a hopeful invitation. It was too tempting to kiss him. There was such need in Orophin, and
the need was matched in Amroth.
Just then Thranduil arrived at one side of the clearing and Rúmil and Arwen at the other.
Amroth reigned himself in, letting his hand drop away from Oro's face. The
disappointment in Orophin's expression was acute. Amroth looked away from him to
Thranduil.
"Did you not find them?"
Thranduil grinned. "I found them. Legolas will recover."
"Do they choose not to join us tonight?" Erestor asked dryly.
"No," said Thranduil, "They don't. Legolas and Haldir have much to discuss, and they are
perfectly safe where they are so I thought it best not to disturb them."
"I think we would be safer to remain all together," Erestor said, but Elrond laid a hand on
his arm.
"The area is safe now… and Thranduil always has his own agenda. Leave them be."
Thranduil chuckled and sat down next to Amroth, stretching out his long, muscular legs
by the fire. "I am beginning to think that you know me too well, Elrond," he commented.
"Perhaps I do. Arwen?"
Arwen and Rúmil had been standing at the edge of the circle they had made around the
fire. They had dumped the packs they had been carrying into a pile as Thranduil was
speaking.
"We found most of our possessions, Father, but they have been trampled. All the wine
bottles are broken. Erestor's books are ruined. My extra clothing is ripped. I will be filthy
for the rest of this journey."
Thranduil and Erestor let out a groan in concert.
"We picked up as many arrows as we could," said Rúmil. Amroth saw then that the two of
them had dark stains on their clothing.
"You removed those from the bodies of the orcs?" he said.
Arwen turned to him and nodded. "Yes. Some were lodged too deeply. We brought back
those which might serve us again."
Elrond looked slightly shocked at the thought of his daughter rifling through the bodies of
the slain with the Galadhrim but he only nodded slowly. Amroth felt a surge of pride.
Arwen was brave and strong, and proving herself not afraid to dirty her hands. There was
a small amount of regret that she was not his own granddaughter as she might have been
had he wed Galadriel. And yet with that there was also a whisper that it was good that she
was not…
Amroth glanced guiltily at Orophin, but he was looking at his brother, frowning, and
unaware of what the lost king was feeling for the Evenstar at the moment. Rúmil cleared
his throat and Amroth realized that someone else had noticed the way he was gazing at
Arwen.
"We should take our watch," Rúmil said to Arwen.
"Thranduil is of the opinion that watches are not necessary," Erestor said, getting up to
retrieve his damaged pack. He was clearly unhappy about the fate of his books, though
probably not as unhappy as Thranduil over the fate of his wine bottles.
"I said that not," Thranduil said easily. The King of Mirkwood did not bother to get up to
retrieve his own flattened pack. "By all means, let them sit up by the river if they wish to
stare at the corpses of orcs for half the night."
"I will take the second watch," Orophin said quickly.
He looked at Amroth, and Amroth knew that Orophin wanted him to volunteer to join
him. He said nothing. He had a fear of what might happen if they were alone. Arwen
would have her gallant Rúmil to protect her from unwanted advances, but what might stop
Amroth from taking Orophin? He could feel his will to resist slipping. Both of them were
too young and too beautiful, and Amroth felt sharp spirals of desire here in this clearing
which had once been home to the elf-maiden he had loved and meant to wed.
Guilt whispered in his ears. How could he love Nimrodel and feel lust for Arwen and
Orophin at once -- and here?
"Then you must sleep now, so you will be fresh for it," Amroth told Orophin. Oro looked
sincerely disappointed.
"We will see you later, then," said Rúmil and he and Arwen disappeared into the trees.
Silence came over them then, even Thranduil, who was given to speaking much. Orophin
laid down on the ground next to Amroth and soon gave all evidence of being at rest.
Erestor had set aside his torn books and closed his eyes. Thranduil and Elrond sat staring
off into the trees in the directions their children lay.
Amroth was not sure how much time had passed when they heard singing coming from the
stream. Neither Orophin nor Erestor waked, but Elrond sat up sharply. For a moment,
Amroth thought they were hearing the voice of Nimrodel, but after a few moments he
realized that it was not her. The timbre was lower.
"Is that your daughter?" Thranduil asked with quiet amusement.
"Of course it is," Elrond said. "You heard her sing last night."
"Her sweet little warble was drowned out by my Legolas' dulcet tones," Thranduil said.
Elrond ignored him, so after a moment he continued. "Does she mean to seduce the
Galadhrim, do you think?"
"Thranduil--" Elrond said in an irritated tone, but the King of Mirkwood laughed.
"Would you have Rúmil for the husband of your daughter?"
"Arwen's fate is to marry a king," Elrond snapped.
"Is that what Galadriel told you?"
"As a matter of fact, she did."
"I rather thought you wanted her to wed the Marchwarden. Or perhaps you simply wanted
him for yourself."
"Thranduil--"
"So why not the brother of the Marchwarden? She clearly likes him."
"I will not force Arwen to wed anyone she does not desire," Elrond said with
exasperation.
"I never imagined that you would, Elrond. I am simply asking you what you will do if she
makes a low choice?"
"Whomever she chooses will prove himself worthy of her," Elrond said simply.
"Do you think all this singing is wise? What if there are more orcs?"
"I do not feel that there are any more."
"Did you feel the last ones?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow.
Amroth stood up while the two of them were arguing. They were drowning out her voice
and he wanted to hear Arwen's singing. It was ethereal, like a nightingale. Without a
sound he moved through the trees until he could see Rúmil and Arwen. They were at the
water's edge, and the water seemed to be humming with the voice of Elrond's daughter.
Rúmil's head was in her lap, and his eyes were closed.
How could he sleep with such beauty surrounding him? Amroth watched Arwen stroke
the golden hair of the young Galadhrim. As she sang, she carefully fixed one of Rúmil's
plaits, which had come loose. Amroth drew nearer, coming up beside them. Arwen smiled
at him, the song trailing off.
"Do not stop. It was beautiful," he said in a low voice.
Inclining her head slightly, Arwen sang again, and he stayed, entranced as much by the fall
of dark hair over her slender shoulders as by the sound of her glorious voice. He sat down
beside Arwen and she turned her face towards him, though her hands remained in Rúmil's
hair. She finished the song, then fell silent. He stared deeply into her eyes. He had believed
them to be blue, like her mother's, but now he saw the tinge of grey within them, eyes like
her father's. A faint blush came to Arwen's cheeks.
"Why do you look at me this way?" she said in a whisper.
"Forgive me," Amroth dropped his eyes, turning to look out over the stream, hating that
its fair banks were marred by the corpses of orcs. "I should not. I am far too ancient to be
giving such looks to a young maiden."
"I liked it," Arwen said.
He looked back at her and smiled. "Did you?"
"Are you in love with my grandmother?" Arwen blurted. Her cheeks flamed more brightly.
"No. She was my lover once, long, long ago, but now she is but a good friend who saved
my life." He was not sure why he told Arwen this, but he felt she deserved the knowledge
that so many tried to withhold from her. She seemed to take it with dignity.
"Did you love my mother, then?"
"As a daughter."
"Do you look at me as a daughter, then?"
Amroth was silent for a long pause, a telling moment and she knew before he admitted it.
"No." Arwen smiled triumphantly, so he loosed his next question. "And you, Arwen
Undómiel, are you in love with Rúmil?"
Her smiled faded and she looked slightly shaken, then sad. "I thought I was, but I want to
kiss you."
Amroth lost all of his reserve. He bent forward, took her chin in his hand, and kissed her,
even though Rúmil still slumbered across her lap. His mouth came across hers with a wet
heat that blazed into a flame, and she opened her lips to him. Their tongues danced sleekly
together, but the desire he felt for her was revealed to be an illusion in that kiss. When
they drew apart, Arwen looked slightly stunned.
"Who would know that so much can be revealed in such a small action?" she said slowly,
lifting the fingers of one hand to her mouth.
"What did you see?" he asked.
"The same that you did. That there can be naught between us," she said, lifting her chin
slightly. "Yet I confess, it makes me sad, for you possess a wisdom that so few elves I
have ever known have had."
"We could have suited, but we lack passion," he said, rephrasing her words.
Arwen nodded. "You were a great king… but now you are like a ghost."
Amroth felt a great sadness at her words, but he knew them to be the truth. "That is just
what I am, Arwen."
"Do you love Nimrodel?"
The question shook him. Amroth searched deep inside himself, then he shook his head.
"No. Not anymore."
"My father loves her still, I think."
"I know he does."
"Do you love Orophin?"
"I cannot say," Amroth said quickly. He did not want to deny that as well.
"I fear for you, Amroth. Without love, you will fade even further."
She was right, and he knew it. He had always known it. He almost wished that Galadriel
had left him in the bay. He had been saved just to die again, and suddenly he did not want
to. He wanted to live, and he wanted to love Nimrodel again, and Arwen, and Orophin,
but he knew not if he were truly capable of it. His fate was to die, and Orophin was going
to be hurt in the process.
Arwen took his hand in her own and squeezed it. He squeezed back, but said nothing, and
several hours passed as they sat like that, hand in hand, listening to the wind and the even
sound of Rúmil's innocent slumber. When the moon had moved half-way through the sky,
Orophin appeared by the river's edge, looking at the three of them with a sulky expression.
Arwen immediately let go of Amroth's hand.
"I see Rúmil is doing an excellent job of keeping watch," Orophin said with sarcasm,
pushing his foot against his brother's legs. Rúmil sat up with a start, looking around with
confusion.
"Is my watch over?"
"It is a good thing we did not set you to watch alone," Oro said.
Rúmil looked at Arwen, as if he had just realized where he had been lying all this time.
"Your singing put me to sleep," he said in an accusatory tone.
Arwen smiled mildly. "I am certain you needed the rest."
Rúmil scowled at her and got to his feet, stretching. He turned grudgingly and offered her
a hand, helping Arwen to her feet. Amroth noticed that she did not let go of his hand as
they turned and walked back to the clearing where the others were.
"I imagine you will be following them," Orophin said, looking down at Amroth, who still
sat on the ground.
"Unless you would like my company, Oro," Amroth said quietly. Orophin looked
surprised.
"I… I would like your company," he confessed. Amroth could see his anger leaving him.
"Then, sit down."
Orophin sat, looking at Amroth with confusion, but within that confusion Amroth saw his
unwavering devotion and admiration. If there was anyone he could love, it was this elf.
Suddenly Amroth felt that he owed it to both of them to try to love Orophin. Either way
Oro might be hurt, but if they took not the risk, might they not miss something that came
along only once or twice in a lifetime?
Banishing his thoughts of dying or leaving Arda from his mind, Amroth bent forward and
kissed Orophin.
