[Set in Fiondil’s Valar fic-verse (with his permission), this fic takes place several centuries after the events of the Elf Interrupted cycle]

The summons came as Finrod was brushing his beloved wife's hair, a practice that had begun on the morning after their wedding night long before. He left the actual arrangements of the elleth's locks to her maid, but he wouldn't give up these quiet, serene minutes at the beginning of every day unless absolutely necessary.

The young ellon in household livery had knocked on the bedchamber door reluctantly, not wanting to raise Finrod's--nor Amarië's--ire for interrupting their private time together.

"This had best be important," growled the Reborn, laying down the hairbrush, pressing a kiss onto the top of Amarië's head. "I'll be right back." The prince crossed to the outer door and opened it to see the ellon holding out a missive sealed with an emblem that he had not seen for some time: the sun in eclipse.

"My lord, I'm sorry, but… but a Maia came and said you were to have this immediately." The Once-born's eyes were wide, and Finrod perceived that the hands holding the folded and sealed parchment were trembling.

"Shh." He soothed the young page, who wasn't that far past his age of majority, and took the message from him. "You were entirely correct to bring it right to me, Brelwë. Go to the kitchens and tell them I said you were to have some chamomile tea before coming back on duty."

Amarië moved to meet him as Finrod closed the door and turned around, running his fingers over the imprinted wafer of wax. "What is it?"

He showed the seal to her and her eyes widened, and she sank down on the cushioned bench at the foot of their bed as he opened it, black wax shards falling to carpet beneath his feet.

One of my messengers will come at noon to bring you and your wife to me. I have something to ask of you both. Námo.

Amarië had paled when Finrod had begun to read the note aloud and reached for his hand, taking comfort in the warm grasp of his fingers. "Something to ask of us?"

The Reborn son of Arafinwë drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. The summons had surprised him, but he found himself smiling at the thought of seeing the Lord of Mandos again. "He's never asked us to do anything that we weren't able to accomplish, my love. Let me call your maid to finish your hair, and then I'll let father know about the summons." He kissed her, stroked her hair, and drew his day robes about him as he left the room.

* * * * * * * * * *

"You look funny when you do that, 'Red."

The ellon ignored his brother's comment and concentrated on laying down a fine even line of mithril leaf along the edge of the rose blossom with which he'd decorated the leading letter of the first verse of the poem's text. The tip of Eluréd's tongue was caught at the corner of his mouth and he was bent over the scriptorium with the end of his nose bare inches from the work he was completing.

"Come on, 'Red. I want to go see how the bread turned out," Elurín whined, impatient at his twin's focus on the scroll.

The older of the twins set down the pointed burnisher and carefully put away the excess bits of the precious metal into the box from which he'd taken them. He smiled as he surveyed his completed illumination then carefully laid a piece of waiting silk over the document to protect it, before pushing his chair back. As soon as he was in no danger of damaging his work, he tackled his twin, sending Elurín and himself rolling down the grassy sward along the edge of the rose garden that was near their pavilion, where Eluréd preferred to work on the scrolls and books that he'd learned to scribe and illuminate.

Elurín's yelp of surprise turned into a peal of laughter as long, ink-stained fingers found the ticklish spots on his ribs, and they rolled in the grass, each trying to out tickle the other, sending all thoughts of bread out of the younger twin's head.

Eluréd was on the bottom when their riotous progress was halted by them coming up against a pair of dark brown suede boots and the hem of a calf-length white tunic trimmed with a complicated knot work pattern in shades of grey, russet and green. The ellon looked up into a pair of twinkling hazel eyes over which a wreath of calendula and ivy rested on brownish-black hair twisted into elf-braids.

"Lord Irmo!" He pushed Elurín off of his chest, and scrambled to his feet to bow to the Vala. "I'm all finished except to bind the poems into the book! Do you want to see?" he asked eagerly.

Elurín was right behind his brother in remembering his manners, but reached out and took the taller being's hand as he straightened from his bow. "And my bread should be all baked by now. Would you like some?"

Irmo chuckled and took Eluréd’s hand in his free one and walked back towards the scriptorium with an ellon on each side of him. "I would be happy to see your accomplishments. You've worked very hard to become skilled at them."

The Vala praised the illuminated poem and looked at the other pages that were destined to be turned into a book. The older twin bashfully confided that he wanted to give the finished collection of poems to Yavanna, since they were all about the plants and flowers she loved.

"'Rin is going to help me with the leather cover for the book," he added as Irmo covered the newest sheet with the silk once more.

"I'm certain that Yavanna will be very pleased by your gift, child," the Vala said, then put his hand on Elurín’s shoulder. "Now, shall we see how your baking turned out?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Námo was standing in the middle of a fragrant knot garden, when his messenger escorted Finrod and Amarië, dressed in the colours of Arafinwë's house, to him. The elves bowed to the Vala, who was garbed in a sleeveless knee-length velvet tunic of a blue so deep as to be almost black over a long sleeved under-tunic of silver embroidered all over with an intricate blackwork pattern augmented with tiny grey pearls. A mithril brooch that echoed the seal from the summons was pinned to his left shoulder, and the sun caught on the black opal and onyx beads that trimmed the shoulders and open collar of the over-tunic. His blue-black hair was elf-braided and crowned with a wreath of flowering rosemary.

The elves straightened and found the tall Lord of Mandos smiling at him, holding out his hands to them. "Finrod, Amarië."

Finrod, reassured, moved forward into Lord Námo's embrace. He seemed to hear a faint strain of familiar music as he let himself be enfolded, and his mind touched back on memories of the many times he had been thus held by the Vala as he had matured and grown into his rebirth, and then after, when he'd become Lord Námo's apprentice.

The prince stepped back and Amarië was likewise embraced.

"Walk with me while we await my brother," Námo invited. "How are you finding your lives now that your elflings are grown and on their own?"

Finrod chuckled, "It's somewhat quieter at home now." He plucked a sprig of mint and crushed the leaves between his fingers, inhaling the sharp fragrance.

Amarië nodded. "It is odd, though, to not have them constantly underfoot." Námo smiled again, but said nothing more as the serenity of the garden enveloped them.

In comfortable silence, they strolled until they returned to the boxwood-framed entrance of the knot garden where the Lord of Lórien, dressed in white, russet and green, now waited. Irmo waved off the elves' bows and greeted them before turning to look at the sloped lawn that stretched down towards a glimmering stream edged by verdant groves in the middle distance.

Finrod looked to where the Vala was gazing and, surprised, saw a pair of ellyn who were seated on a blanket and apparently picnicking on the hillside, as one was cutting the other a slice of bread from a nicely browned loaf, while the other was sharing out some fruit. They appeared to have reached their age of majority, but something about their mannerisms and cheerful voices reminded the prince of much younger elflings.

"Who are they?" Amarië asked, moving to stand beside her husband, entwining her fingers with his.

"The reason we asked to see you today," Námo said, causing the pair to turn back to look at him.

A table with four chairs and a tray with wine and four goblets had appeared, and the Vala was filling the cups, the fruity scent of the wine blending beautifully with the aromas from the herbs in the garden. Irmo herded the couple to the table and handed Amarië into a chair before seating himself. Finrod waited until Námo had sat down before sinking down into the vacant chair between his wife and the Lord of Mandos.

"The one on the left is Elurín," said Irmo, settling his deep sleeves over the arms of the elegantly carved wooden chair and steepling his fingers before him. "The one on the right is Eluréd. They have been in our care for a very long time."

Finrod eyes unfocused briefly as a long-ago memory stirred. "Elurín and Eluréd. Glorfindel told me once about two small elflings he knew in your halls, Lord Námo, after I came home." He looked at the boys again.

"Yes, Finrod, they are Glorfindel's little ones," Námo confirmed. "It has taken a very long time for them to come to the point where they may walk reborn upon Arda."

Amarië put down the cup she held and looked from one Vala to the other. "How old were they when they--came to Mandos?"

Irmo responded, "They were barely seven years old when Doriath fell to the sons of Fëanor."

The elleth paled and her eyes filled with tears. Finrod reached to clasp her hand as she whispered, "Seven--only seven." She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief he handed her, and looked at the twins, who had finished their meal and were now entertaining each other; one--Elurín?--playing a carved wooden flute, and the other singing a hymn to Elbereth in an exquisite counter-tenor voice. Her heart was wrung with pity for them to have been wrenched so untimely from their family.

Finrod turned to Námo. "Do they have a home--family--to go to when they leave here?" As he looked into the Vala's grey eyes, it was clear that it wasn't really a question; his quick mind had surmised why they had been summoned.

"They do not have family in Aman, no."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Will you help me with the book cover today, 'Rin?" Eluréd began to collect up the remains of their al fresco meal, and glanced up at his younger brother, who laying on his back on the grass, still playing a light melody on his flute. "I really would like to get it finished soon."

The tune broke off and Elurín nodded. "I'll help, as long as I don't have to actually decorate it. But why rush?" He sat up and took the now rolled up cloth from his twin and scrambled to his feet.

Eluréd looked up the slope towards the tall hedges that framed a garden he didn't remember seeing before, unaccountably drawn towards it. "I don't know. Just a feeling I have that I should get it done." He stood up and headed up the hill, Elurín trailing along behind him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Amarië found herself on her feet as the twins slowly climbed the slope, watching as Elurín caught up with his brother and, apparently without realizing it, clasped Eluréd’s hand. She was so focused on the twins that she didn't even startle when Námo suddenly spoke in her ear.

"Although they have learned to enjoy being with others, and comfortably share a pavilion with another ellon, they continually seek each other's company. They have never been apart one from the other in their lives here save for short times when learning skills that suit their individual temperaments."

"They look happy."

"Their fëar have been at peace since well before their re-embodiment and they are dearly loved by all who know them. But unlike your husband, and most of the other Reborn, they never got to experience life in Arda beyond the nursery, nor to learn how to live with a family, and then to learn to live independently with joyfulness. We have taught them much, but these are things that can only be learned by experiencing them. They cannot see us," he added as the boys came closer to the enclosed garden.

"We could teach them." Amarië turned eagerly towards Finrod, her heart in her eyes, and uprushing of selfless love replacing the pity that had filled her before. "We could do it. And wouldn't it be better for them to come to a family who understands what it is like to come back?"

The golden-haired prince got to his feet and kissed his wife as he embraced her. "It won't be easy," he warned her. "Don't you remember how I was when I first came home again?"

She tipped her head back to gaze into his eyes. "Yes, but it was worth it." She suddenly blushed as she glanced sidewise at Lord Námo, remembering a long-ago lesson from him that had set her on the straight path when her own silent resentments had threatened the happiness that was to come to her and Finrod.

The Lord of Mandos just smiled.

Finrod hugged her again, and nodded and turned to Námo. "Then, if that is what is asked of us, I am full willing to foster Elurín and Eluréd until they no longer need our care." He looked at Lord Irmo. "When will they be released?"

The Master of Lórien gazed at his older brother, smiling, as they silently communicated one with the other. He finally nodded, then answered the Noldor prince's question. "They still have some things to complete here, but if I were you I would prepare to celebrate your next begetting day with two extra places at the table."

"Almost a year's time," Amarië realized, as they'd just celebrated Finrod's begetting the week before, and then she laughed, looking up at the hazel-eyed Vala with sparkling eyes. "At least with this bringing of children into the household I won't be getting fat!" She turned in Finrod's arms to look at the boys again, and found that a group of the Reborn, ellith and ellyn accompanied by a trio of Lóriennildi, had come from around the outside corner of the surrounding boxwood hedge and intercepted the twins.

"We are going riding!" they clearly heard a dark-haired ellon telling them excitedly. "Come with us! We are going to the lake to swim." He caught Elúred by the elbow and disengaged him from his brother while a happy pair of ellith caught up Elúrin, despite his burden of the rolled up picnic cloth. Chivvied along by their serenely smiling attendants, the group swept the twins away and out of the sight of the observing Eldar.

"I almost wish I were going with them," Finrod said wistfully. "Even after two Ages of Arda, I remember first seeing the lake and how wonderful it was to wade in."

Irmo chuckled. "Perhaps another time, beloved child, you may come back here on a brief holiday. But now Arda has need of you both, and we have kept you long enough." He drew Amarië into his embrace and bestowed a kiss on her forehead before doing likewise with Finrod. With a smile to his brother, he was suddenly gone.

Námo once again took each of them on either side of him, his arms resting across their shoulders and guided them once more through the paths of the knot garden. "I expected nothing less of you than the compassion and generosity you have shown, best beloved. I will send to you when it is time to come to the Gates of Reunion." They came once more to the gate of the garden, but the table and chairs were gone and beyond the opening in the surrounding hedge was not the hillside greensward where the ellyn had picnicked and walked, but the courtyard where the Maia who had escorted the couple into Námo's presence had brought them into Lórien. The angelic figure wearing the colors of the Lord of Mandos stood next to another wearing the rainbow-emblazoned white surcote of Irmo's service.

"You have done well, Finrod Felagund and Amarië, and you will continue so as the ages of Arda continue." Námo gave them each a kiss of blessing and left them with their escorts as he traveled with the speed of thought to the Elder King's side.

"It is begun," he said.

"It is well so," Manwë nodded and then smiled. "Do you think that the first question they ask when Finrod and Amarië collect them is 'Where is Glorfindel?'"

TBC

NOTE: Thank you to Fiondil for allowing me to play in his fic-verse. I hope that I haven’t mangled it too much!