Resurrection 32

Resurrection

Part 32

Posted: January 26, 2007
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Tearful goodbyes and the long road to war.

*****

Elrond held Celebrían in his arms as he stared at the warm glow of Anor’s rays upon the tops of the Misty Mountains. “You know what to do,” he said softly.

She nodded. “But I will not leave this place until I know beyond doubt that you are lost to me.”

“You will be safe here, my love,” Elrond whispered.

“I know,” she answered. “I am going to worry about you.”

Elrond smiled sadly. “I would not dream of trying to dissuade you.”

Celebrían laughed. “You know me well.”

“And I love you well,” Elrond responded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Upon my return, I am going to ask your parents for permission to bond with you.”

Celebrían smiled. “You had better do just that. I have not invested all this time in wooing you to have my plans fail now.”

Elrond laughed aloud. “Oh, my love, you do know how to speak your mind.”

Celebrían giggled. “I get that from my father.”

“Aye that you do. I look forward to that day, when our bodies as well as our hearts can be as one.”

Celebrían looked into Elrond’s pale grey eyes. “I do wish you were not so noble sometimes, but then, if you were not, you would not be the one I love.” She caressed his cheek. “We will have three children, two sons and a daughter, I predict.”

“Foresight comes in most handy during times like this, no?” Elrond grinned.

Celebrían laughed and playfully pushed at his shoulder. “Do not make light of my wisdom, Master Elrond.”

“I would never dream of doing such a thing, my love. Two sons and a daughter sounds perfect; I will have two to mentor and one to dote upon.”

“You will spoil her, I can tell that already.”

“That is what fathers are supposed to do, spoil their daughters. You should know this.”

“Are you implying that I am spoiled?” Celebrían asked with a smile.

“I am implying that you are your father’s daughter, and a most beautiful, wise, and witty daughter at that.”

“There is no use in me telling you to be careful, for I know you will be. That is what I love most about you, Elrond, your wisdom and your love of your people.”

“I have many reasons to want to return home, not the least of which is to bond with you,” he said softly, pressing their foreheads together.

“I will miss you,” Celebrían whispered, her eyes closed.

“And I will miss you,” Elrond replied quietly before canting his head and leaning in for a kiss.

* * * *

Gildor watched Erestor descend the stairs toward the courtyard. So many times he had witnessed that same sight, only this time he was wide awake for the first time in nearly an age. He took note of the way the counselor’s hair seemed to almost float around his shoulders, of the deep crease in between his eyes that came out when he frowned, and of the careful and deliberate way he moved, as though each step were controlled. His lover approached him and he took him in his arms without hesitation. He held Erestor close and whispered into his ear.

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That if I do not return, you will go on and live a happy life.”

Erestor swallowed. “I promise.”

“And if I do return, that you will go on and live a happy life.”

Erestor frowned and drew back, opening his mouth to question his lover when the horn blew.

“I love you, Erestor,” Gildor murmured. “I have always loved you in one way or another. Nothing in all of Arda will change that.” He then took Erestor’s face in his hands and kissed him soundly before turning and mounting his horse.

* * * *

Lindir clung tightly to Glorfindel. “Take good care of yourself,” he said softly. “Take no unnecessary risks.”

Glorfindel squeezed his lover tightly. “I will, sparrow,” he replied. “And you take care of yourself.”

“I will miss you.”

“And I will miss you. I love you, Lindir.”

“I love you, Glorfindel.” Lindir drew away, accepting one last kiss from his beloved warrior before watching him mount his stallion and lead the procession out of the gates.

Erestor stood clasping his own elbows tightly as he watched Gildor ride away. His lover turned once, casting one last long glance at him. Erestor blew him a kiss and saw Gildor smile, and then his lover turned his back and passed through the gate. He had no way of knowing it would be the last time he would see him for over ten years.

He felt one hand upon his back and another upon his arm. He found Lindir on his left and Celebrían on his right. He took each of their hands and held them tight. It was left to the three of them to keep the Last Homely House until their beloveds returned.

* * * *

Gildor patted his breast pocket; in it, he held a letter from Lindir to Thranduil. He had promised his friend he would deliver it upon meeting the Greenwood warriors on the way to Gondor.

“What lies ahead of us, none of us know,” Glorfindel said quietly as his stallion settled in beside Gildor’s mare.

“Is that not always how life is?” Gildor asked quietly. He turned and looked at his best friend. “So here we are again, my friend, riding to war.”

“We have been here too many times,” Glorfindel replied.

“Perhaps this will be the last.” He turned his eyes to the trail ahead. “I yet have hope.”

“That is what I hold most dear about you, my friend; you always have hope to spare.”

Gildor smiled. “Someone must.”

“We are fortunate that you are on our side, Gildor,” Elrond said as he joined the two warriors.

Gildor smiled. “I could be on no other, my lord.” He reached down and rubbed his mare’s neck. “So, we best get this battle over with. I doubt the Lady Celebrían will have much patience with us if we do not bring you home quickly.”

Glorfindel chuckled and nodded. “Aye, I am not sure who she takes after most, her mother or her father.”

“Both are fine elves,” Elrond responded with a grin. “And it is wise of both of you to recognize her determination, for she will one day be your lady.”

“A finer lady we could not dare wish for,” Glorfindel responded with a smile.

“Nor a more beautiful one,” Gildor added. He grinned then snorted. “Who I feel sorry for is Erestor and Lindir, for they will have to keep her distracted until we return.”

“I dare say she will have taken over the household before then,” Glorfindel added with a grin.

Elrond laughed. “And I predict that Erestor’s hair will be white and Lindir will be bald.”

All three elves laughed aloud as some of the warriors began to sing an old song that once came from the Edain.

* * * *

Thranduil stood on the low rise of a hill watching Anor set across the valley. The elves from Lindon and the Dúnedain from Arnor had already arrived, and they awaited the coming of Amroth and Elrond’s regiments. He had never seen such an impressive display of men and elves at arms.

He worried for his own people. For whatever reason, his father and Amroth had both turned down offers of heavy armor from Gil-galad and Elrond, so the Silvan warriors would have no body protection such as that of the Noldor and Sindar from the west, or the men of the north. This would be open warfare, conducted on an exposed battle plain; it was nothing like what they were accustomed to. The Greenwood and Lórien Elves were archers, comfortable with having the cover of trees and shrubs, they were used to fighting from a distance, not doing combat in the open. He could only hope that when plans were laid for assault, these things would be taken into consideration.

Upon his return from Imladris, he had taken charge of training Greenwood’s warriors in close combat, and sharpening their skill with the lance and sword, yet still their forte was archery, and he was unsure how any of them would react when they were exposed and fighting face to face with the most fearsome beasts of Sauron’s creation.

His parting with his wife and son had been painful. Legolas had put on a brave face for one so young, but Thranduil could feel the fear in his son’s body as they embraced the last time. He promised Legolas he would return, and then he placed one final kiss upon his wife’s damp cheek. His mother had sworn to look after them for him, and he knew she would; but it was the first time he would sleep in a bed without his wife and child since the day Legolas was born. He could not help but worry about them.

He spotted dust upon the horizon, and his sharp eyes spied the tip of Elrond’s standard as they entered the narrow pass. He whistled to his second, who passed the word on. It was time to ride to war.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Larien Elengasse