A Family Day

A slim finger pressed against Elladan’s lips, reminding him of the need for silence.  The child stilled, his impatient sigh becoming a slow exhalation.

Celebrían smiled.  Only a game such as this was enough to quieten her restless son – and, even then, the magic only worked as long as he was actually doing something.  ‘Only a thousand heartbeats,’ she consoled him, murmuring in his ear, so that he twitched at the tickling, ‘and – if we are not already found – we can begin to make our way towards the Nimrodel.’

He looked at her indignantly.  He might be finding the wait a trifle … tedious – but that did not mean that he wanted to be caught.  ‘Not until after Adar finds Elrohir,’ he insisted.

His naneth shook her head.   ‘Daeradar knows every tree in the forest,’ she said, ‘and he is very good at remaining unseen when he wishes.’  She refrained from mentioning the fact that Elrohir, too, was better at being unobtrusive than her firstborn son.  Elladan did so like to be the best at everything he did – it was just as well, really, that his twin was a rather more peaceable character.  She ran a hand over the untidy black head, tucking her son’s hair behind his ears.  And then, of course, her husband was so much better at finding a scroll tucked away in the darkest recesses of the library than at seeking out bouncy ellyn among greener leaves.

‘Is it time to go yet?’ Elladan asked.

Celebrían’s arm restrained him.  ‘We can travel through the trees,’ she said.  ‘They grow closely enough here for it to be safe – and they will enjoy the game – but …’ she made sure that her son was paying attention, ‘you are to be careful and we will not climb too high.’

‘I can run through the trees, Nana.’  Elladan twitched his shoulders in his anxiety to get moving.  ‘I have practised.’

‘You have?’  The softness of her voice warned her son of danger.  ‘And who has been encouraging you to practise such a thing?’

The pause was long enough to make it plain that the ellon was deciding just how much to reveal.  ‘No-one.’  He opened his eyes wide in an attempt to convey candour.  ‘Elrohir and I just like playing in the trees.   And they like it when we play that we are squirrels making our home in the branches.’

‘I will be having a word with Glorfindel when I see him,’ his naneth commented.

‘I said nothing about him.’ Elladan sounded anxious, his mother thought.  Proof positive that Glorfindel was involved in some way or other.    ‘He really has done nothing, Nana.  It is just – it sounded so much fun and we could play hiding from our enemies and sneaking up on them to find out their plans.’

Celebrían raised an eyebrow.  That elf needed to be rather more careful what stories he told the twins – he must know that they took in every word and would copy his exploits slavishly.  It was a pity that he focused so much on mayhem and did not tell them more tales of impeccable manners and academic success.   She grinned unexpectedly.  Of course, such tales would immediately rob him of his influence over the little mischief-makers.

‘Keep on the broader branches,’ she said firmly, ‘and be sure that those you choose are willing to support you.  And do not jump too far – running through the trees is like learning to swim or ride.  You need to develop your skills slowly, if you do not wish to end up hurt.’

Even with his back to her, as Elladan moved off in the direction she indicated, Celebrían knew her son was rolling his eyes.  She hoped maternal omniscience lasted.  It was extremely useful at times. It probably did, she thought: after all, her own mother seemed able to detect any hint of daughterly rebellion, even when the two of them were separated by a range of mountains.

***

‘Listen to the trees.’ 

Elrohir looked up at his grandfather.  Celeborn seemed so often like a deep forest pool: still and calm and hidden, but he had volunteered to take charge of his grandson and he was clearly enjoying this excursion.  He had shed his elegant robes in favour of worn leathers of green and brown, and his flowing hair was braided back from his face.  He looked … happy and very much at home.

The ellon tried to do as he was told.  The breeze stirred the leaves, whispering through the branches like a song, telling tales of distant places … but he did not think that was what his grandfather had meant.   He tentatively placed his small hand below Celeborn’s on the ridged bark and closed his eyes.  The bark felt warm, like … like a hard skin, and, below it, he could feel a slow pulse of awareness.  Awareness and interest.  The tree was interested in him!

‘They are more alert here than they are in Imladris,’ his grandfather remarked.  ‘Easier for you to hear, I expect.’  He smiled.  ‘What is it telling you?’

Elrohir tried harder to listen, but it was difficult to pick out anything more than the warmth of the sun and the refreshment of rain and the importance of making food.

‘No?’ his grandfather said.  ‘It is difficult to separate the voices.’  He squeezed the ellon’s shoulder gently.  ‘The leaves and new sprigs are more concerned about today – and more involved in what is happening now, while the trunks store more elemental memories.  Perhaps, to help us evade our seekers, we need to climb.’

A bright grin flashed across Elrohir’s face.

‘But,’ Celeborn warned, ‘do not try to do more than you can do well – I do not want your naneth and daernaneth berating me for letting you fall.’  He boosted the ellon up to reach the lowest branch.  ‘Your daernaneth has still not allowed me to forget the time Celebrían crashed from the branches and broke her arm.’

Elrohir knew he was a good climber – sure-footed and safe – but he decided not to take offence.  After all, he knew that there were times when his daeradar would sniff slightly about the Noldor and their lack of understanding of the forest – and, if Adar was Noldor, then Elrohir was, too.  Although Nana was Daeradar’s daughter, so she was surely not …   It was all too complicated, he decided.  When he had asked Erestor to explain how he and Elladan could be half-elves when Adar was a half-elf and Nana was a whole elf, his tutor had sighed and said he needed a greater grasp of mathematics and philosophy before he could really make sense of it.

He climbed easily, unaware of his grandfather’s critical gaze, until he reached a comfortable niche where thinner branches bore crowns of leaves.   There, he settled, waiting for Celeborn to join him.

‘Which way should we go?’ Daeradar asked him.

Elrohir blinked.  ‘Do you not know?’ he asked.  He hoped his grandfather was not lost.

‘I want you to decide.’  The tall elf smiled encouragingly.  ‘What do we want to find?’

‘The river,’ Elrohir supplied.  ‘And we do not want Ada to catch us – and we need to get there before Elladan and Nana.’

‘So, if the trees can help us know where the river is – and make sure we keep away from your adar,’ he suggested, ‘that would be very useful, would it not?’

The ellon’s eyes widened. 

‘Where is there a disturbance in the forest?  People moving, animals hiding, birds taking wing?  The trees cannot move, but they are aware of changes – and Elrond, I am afraid, is quite noticeable.’

Elrohir listened, before tentatively pointing to the south and west of their tree.

‘Good,’ Celeborn approved.  ‘Now – can you tell where there is flowing water between high banks?’

His grandson’s finger wavered rather more.

‘That is harder,’ Celeborn nodded, ‘because the river passes many trees, and they are all accustomed to its presence.  But you are more or less right.’  He stood up, balancing on the branch as easily as if he were on a paved path.  ‘Shall we seek out your daernaneth before she tires of waiting and eats all the picnic?’

‘Through the trees?’ Elrohir asked eagerly.  ‘Adar will never expect us to travel the sky path.’

‘Through the trees, of course,’ Celeborn agreed, and his smile widened.  ‘The last thing the Noldor among us would expect would be for you and your brother to be, at heart, a pair of Galadhrim.’

***

Elrond stacked the papers and tucked them into the box to ensure they would not blow away.  He liked fresh air, he really did, but there were definite advantages to dealing with paperwork in an office. 

‘I did not mean to keep you so long,’ Amroth apologised.  ‘Your sons will be expecting you.’

‘My wife and her parents have undertaken to keep them occupied in some gigantic game of hide-and-seek,’ Elrond told him.  ‘I am to attempt to catch them before they reach Galadriel – but I am certain that they would be very disappointed were I to succeed.’

The expression on Amroth’s face was most definitely wistful.  ‘Children are a treasure,’ he said. 

‘I waited a long time to find Celebrían, and I am still amazed that she was willing to gift me with the delight of children,’ Elrond admitted.  Amroth’s problems, it would seem, were different – he knew the elleth he wanted, but he had yet to convince her that she should be his wife, let alone become the mother of his children.  ‘Although having two sons at one time came as more of a surprise than, perhaps, it should have done.’

‘Find your sons, Elrond,’ Amroth said.  ‘Make the most of the day.’  He nodded pleasantly at the Lord of Imladris and turned away.

‘He should have chosen a maiden with more sense than stubbornness,’ Glorfindel murmured.  ‘I am sure there must have been plenty of more suitable candidates making doe-eyes at him.  I see no happy outcome for Amroth with Nimrodel.’

‘You are hardly qualified to judge on matters of love.’  Elrond shook his head tolerantly.  ‘You refuse to take part in the dance.’

‘Onlookers are best judges of the game,’ Glorfindel retorted.  ‘And I still say that those two will never settle for anything as mundane as a happily married life.  They are determined to wallow in tragic misunderstandings.’

‘Do you know where we are going?’

Glorfindel waved a negligent hand towards a path between the trees.  ‘Celeborn and Celebrían will dally long enough for us to get close, but that is as much as they were prepared to offer.’

‘They deserve to escape.’  Elrond handed the box of documents over to his attendant and shed his robe, looking at once both younger and more dangerous.  ‘After all, without the connivance of their escorts, they would already have joined Galadriel.’  He accepted a blue leather jerkin and pulled it on before strapping his knives in place. ‘Are we ready?’ he asked.

A look of fierce excitement gleamed on Glorfindel’s face.  ‘Let us make a race of it, my friend,’ he suggested.  ‘And see as if you are as out of condition as I suspect.’

He was.  Elrond dragged in another breath and felt his lungs burn, even as his pulse hammered.  Glorfindel had been telling him that he needed to spend more time on the training fields, and it looked as if this humiliating race was set to prove him right.  Diplomacy and debate were … he stopped and rested his hands on his thighs as he attempted to regain his dignity … diplomacy and debate – and paperwork and research – were important, but they certainly took away one’s edge as a warrior.  Glorfindel – may the Valar take him back to Aman, where he belonged – leaned casually on a nearby tree, scarcely out of breath, while he …

‘Drink?’  Glorfindel held out a waterskin.

Perhaps he would change his mind about consigning the elf back to Námo.  Elrond took a long swallow and wiped his shirt sleeve across his brow.  ‘You have proved your point,’ he said. 

Glorfindel grinned.  ‘I will arrange more time for you to … revisit your skills, once we are back in Imladris,’ he said airily.  ‘Now, we are close enough for them to be aware of us.  Our task is to let both twins see us as we fail to spot them – and then bumble around for a while until they have had time to escape our clutches.’

***

The Nimrodel rippled over glistening rocks and bustled its way through narrow gaps, bubbling white where currents stirred it and forming green pools where it was sheltered.  The water was cold, even on this warm day, formed of snow melt and emerging from the deep caverns into which it seeped.  Its song, however, was like children’s laughter, and Galadriel, sitting on a flat rock above the stream with her dress kilted up and her feet dangling in the water, felt that she could lose herself in the sound.

She was – oddly – content. 

She had lost much over her long life, and failed to achieve much she had desired, but, for all she had been left a wanderer, exiled from her birthplace – through her own fault – she had gained so much more than she had expected.  Her husband: her daughter: her beloved grandsons. 

And, perhaps, she had learned to make the most of moments like these.

She stretched, cat-like, and tipped her head back to enjoy the sun’s caress on her cheek.  The food was prepared – little point in cooking anything in this weather, when the freshest of greens, together with hard boiled eggs and soft cheese, made bread taste like a feast – and the elderflower champagne, suitable even for the ellyn, was cooling at the water’s edge.  All the party now required was the company – and that would not be long in coming. 

Galadriel angled her head to listen to the trees.  It had not come naturally to her, as it had to her husband, but she was a firm believer that any skill could be learned and she had worked hard to learn it.  Nonetheless, she had always felt that the forest, although it respected her, did not love her as it did Celeborn.  She had decided, in the end, that that was as it should be – their differences made them stronger and they would need that strength yet, before the end.

The twins were definitely approaching – their excitement had overcome any subtlety and she could hear their childish voices.  In some ways, she hoped Elladan was first to reach her – he tended to sulk when Elrohir beat him, and she found it hard to hold her tongue and leave him to his parents’ ministrations.  On the other hand, it did him good to realise that his twin was just as skilled as he was – and she enjoyed the feeling of elated triumph that emanated from Elrohir when he came first.

She must remember, she noted, to call the pair Elrohir and Elladan as frequently as she named them Elladan and Elrohir.  It had always annoyed her when she and her brothers had been listed in order of arrival, wondering what it would be like to stand in Finrod’s place, and that was something she could do easily to let her grandsons know that she did not differentiate between them on birth order. 

They burst through the trees together and ran towards her, making it easy for her to jump up and meet them halfway, clasping them simultaneously into a three-way hug.  As she glanced over their dark heads, her husband and daughter exchanged identical smug grins.  Co-ordinating their arrival could not have been easy, but Celeborn and Celebrían had always shared a close rapport and here, with the trees to help them, she could not but approve of the outcome.

‘Too late,’ Glorfindel drawled, emerging halfway between the silver-haired father and daughter.  ‘If only Elrond had spent rather less time sitting behind a desk and rather more training as a scout.’

Celebrían bristled.  ‘I know which skill is a more vital part of his responsibilities,’ she declared.

Her parents exchanged a glance in which they shared their amusement and their affection for their only child.  Despite Elrond’s descent from Elu, Celeborn had not been sure that Eärendil’s son would be a good match for his daughter, but he had, over the years, become reconciled.  The Peredhel was, on the whole, putty in Celebrían’s hands – and, if ever there was someone who needed her fierce protection, it was the lonely Lord of Imladris.

‘Ada!’  The twins were indifferent to any undercurrents.  They released Galadriel and charged for their father, grabbing his hands and dragging him into the family circle.

‘Did you get matters arranged?’ Celeborn asked quietly.

Elrond smiled and nodded as he said, ‘Let us take the opportunity to enjoy the rest of the day.  We will talk about it tomorrow.’

‘I am hungry,’ Elladan announced, staring at the linen-wrapped contents of the basket.

Galadriel smiled.  ‘You need to wash your hands and brush the leaves from your hair,’ she said mildly.  ‘There is no need to let standards slip simply because we are eating outside.’

Within the space of a breath both ellyn were splashing in the water, leaving the adults to set out the picnic for them all to enjoy.

‘Who would have thought,’ Glorfindel murmured in her ear as the ellyn concentrated on inhaling as much food as they could in the shortest amount of time, ‘when it all started, that we would end up here.  We have travelled a long way.’

Celeborn turned his head towards them in calm contemplation.  ‘Some journeys must be made,’ he said, ‘even if, at the time, you do not know why.  Even if, at the time, you fight against it.  Things change – and what seemed wrong becomes necessary.’

‘Ada?’ Elrohir piped up, his mouth finally empty.  ‘Ada, may we go home through the trees.  I like the way they sing.’

‘Yes.’  His brother rested his head on his hand and contemplated his brother.  ‘Do we have to go home?  I like it here.’

Elrohir leaned over and patted his brother on the head.  ‘Now, now,’ he told him portentously, ‘we can stay for a while, but we have to go home some day.’

And, unexpectedly, as the sun shone down, Galadriel shivered.