Into the Fire

Sleeping with Ghosts

Story Three


Clouds We’re Seeing

Part One:

The Havens, TA 2765

“Tell your mother to keep a tight rein on my husband. She has my permission to slap him.” Lady Laeriel, wife of King Thranduil of Mirkwood said to Tirnion, captain of Mirkwood’s forces and personal escort of Lady Laeriel’s last ride through Arda.

Laeriel’s middle son, Tholinnas, and the only one sailing west embraced Tirnion. “I will miss you, dear friend. Watch out for my siblings.”

Tholinnas touched his forehead to Tirnion’s own and both elves laughed. “I always have.” Tirnion said.

Cirdan watched the conversation, amused by the final comments and reminders for a lives that would go on in separate lands. The farewells he witnessed over the years ranged from the heart wrenching to the resigned. This was certainly one of the most amusing he’s seen. He turned to regard the anxious elves already standing near the dock. None would board the ship until he did. Laeriel explained it was some sort of suspicion. The group of elves shifted back and forth, restless as they gazed out over the sea. They were elves of Mirkwood, but they were not just Silvan. In them ran the blood of the Sindar, the Teleri, and the Noldor. Most were silver-haired, others were graced with the pale blond of the Teleri. Laeriel was the most striking, the rich gold of her hair testament to her own Vanya blood. Despite their varied bloodlines, these were elves of the wood. Laeriel the only one amongst them to live near the sea. Few of these elves had lived on Aman, few had living family there and even fewer descended from an elven tribe on Aman. Laeriel’s tasks upon arrival would be immense, charged with creating a whole new settlement. It was unlikely Oropher had emerged from the Halls so soon and Erynien would not leave without knowing her husband was close behind. The trait of stubbornness was great in that family. Thranduil was the most level-headed of the bunch.

Glancing at the sky, Cirdan noted the time. He approached Laeriel and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry, Laeriel, but we must depart. You do not want to arrive on the shores in nightfall. Even those seas are treacherous when there is light to guide you, worse without it.”

Laeriel nodded and embraced Tirnion one last time. “You are a noble and I know you will protect my family well, Tirnion. Do not forget to live for yourself.”

Tirnion’s smile was wide and wicked. “I am not Glorfindel.” Tirnion said.

“Thank the Valar.” Tholinnas muttered.

“Go,” Tirnion urged, “and please, say hello to Celebrian for us all.”

“Do not forget to talk to the squirrels for me” Tholinnas said.

“I never would.” Tirnion answered, embracing his friend one last time.

Tirnion bowed at the group, nodded at Cirdan and walked back up the path to the main house.

Cirdan waited while Laeriel crouched down and picked up a handful of sand. She places it in a box Tholinnas provided from his pack.

“Just another reminder.” Laeriel said when she saw Cirdan’s look. “To physically remember all the places I have lived on Arda.”

“I can bottle some sea water for you.” Cirdan offered.

Laeriel smiled, “I have water from the Enchanted River in Mirkwood. Hopefully no one will be fool enough to drink it.”

“If someone falls asleep for no explainable reason, we shall know.” Tholinnas said.

Laeriel took one last breath of air and turned to Cirdan. “Let us go.”

*****************************

The skeleton of a great house sat on the hill. Elves milled about, carrying wood and stone, hammers and nails. The guest home was the first structure of the complex finished, the need for finished shelter more important than anything else. The stables were near completion as were the garden houses and paths. Pipes and networks for the fountains and the water inside the house were turning into a successful mission, though many parts of the ground were still muddy. The main house, however, was still a very unfinished structure. The plans were for a three level home but at this point, Celebrian would be thankful for a single completed level.

It struck Celebrian as odd so many elves flocked to her for work and a new home. Penlod told her something about ‘idle hands’ and ‘crowded cities’ and the like. The building of Celebrian’s new home, a mixture both of a new Imladris and a new Lothlorien, was starting to become a new, well, everywhere else the elves flocked from. One simple inquiry about a fountain to Ecthelion resulted in plans for a network of fountains throughout her property.

A question about the possibility of a forge to Penlod ended in the elf's disappearance and then return with an elf by the name of Rog and a group of one hundred and fifty other elves ready to build a forge and anything else involving metal working.

Frankly, Celebrian was finding herself overwhelmed with all the work and all the elves eager to carry out her tasks.

Even if some of those elves were far too enthusiastic about her home and its features.

“No, Rog, we do not need spikes protruding from the front wall of the greeting chamber.”
Celebrian stared at the piece of metal work before her, wondering just how she managed to get herself into this situation; who tutors of diplomacy never taught her about this.

Rog turned to her, his brow wrinkled in confusion. He reminded her so much of Elladan, with the smudges of soot on his face and hair tumbling out of the tie which dared to confine it.

“Do you not wish to show off your own security? A warning for elves with ideas.” Rog asked.

Before Celebrian answered, Ecthelion approached Rog and tapped him on the back of the head. Their friendship was odd, and quite violent with all the light slaps, kicking, and tripping, but Penlod assured her it had always been thus.

Ecthelion sighed, “Rog, for the last time, if Maeglin comes back I doubt the Valar will be cruel enough to place him in his old form. Also, do you really think he would seek out Celebrian?”

Rog, sat down on one of the low walls marking the path to the house. He rested his chin on a hand. “Hmm, let me ponder that for a moment. Would Maeglin, the elf so infatuated with having Idril fro his own he made a deal with Morgoth, ever come after Celebrian? Celebrian, the wife of Elrond. Elrond, the son of Earendil. Earendil, the seven-year-old child Maeglin tried to kill and the son of Tuor. Tuor, the mortal man who married Idril, survived the fall of the Hidden City, and was then granted an immortal life by the Valar. No, I cannot possibly think of a reason for Maeglin to seek out Celebrian.”

Penlod threw an apple at Rog. “Please, stuff your face with that to save us from your attempts at sarcasm.”

Celebrian pinched her brow in a gesture reminiscent of her husband. Sitting down beside Minuialeth she asked, “How did you live with is for centuries in an enclosed city?”

Minuialeth shrugged, “You learn to tune them out after the first hundred years or so. Just buzzing of little insects, really.” Minuialeth put down a tunic of her brother’s she was attempting to repair. Celebrian wondered if it was proper to inform her she was doing that stitch all wrong. “I heard a boat from Arda Is arriving, though none have made mention of the elves on board.”

“I am sure the group will be mixed of many people. As the years go by, more elves leave Arda.” Celebrian said, somewhat tired over the assumption should would know each and every elf coming off the boats. The elves on Aman had quite a few misconceptions concerning the size of Arda and the elven population there.

“It is no longer safe.” Minuialeth said.

Celebrian sighed, “It never has been, or, at least, that is what Elrond tells me..told me..”

“Will tell you again when he arrives.” Minuialeth smiled. “Why are so many leaving now?”

Celebrian shook her head as she gathered an answer. There were many reasons for elves to leave but their numbers had seen a notable increase. “I think they are tired of fighting. All are weary. There is no reason to hold to a land you are being forced out of; not when there are other races to watch over the lands.” Celebrian replied.

“None so good as the elves.” Rog said with all the arrogance of the Noldor.

“Perhaps.” Celebrian said. “Though I doubt all the elves will leave. The Silvan…”

“The what?” Rog asked as he chewed on the apple.

“Wood elves.” Celebrian explained without delving deeper into the politics of elven culture on Arda in the Second and Third Ages. “Some elves, mainly the Noldor, see the Silvan as simple beings, lesser folk.”

“And you?” Penlod asked.

“I grew up in the lands of the Silvan elves. There is a wisdom to them, a beauty. They may seem a bit primitive but they are more in tune to the land and I think the land trusts them more than the Noldor.” Celebrian said.

“They sound fascinating.” Penlod remarked as he took a seat beside Celebrian.

“I never knew them to anything different. I lived among some Noldor and Sindar as a child, but most of my years were spent in a wood of the Silvan.” Celebrian nodded to Penlod, “A few may travel here and I am sure, after some convincing, they will share their history and language with you.”

“They have their own language?” Penlod asked, eyes bright with the crave for more knowledge.

Celebrian nodded, “It is not greatly spoken in these times but it still is used by some. It is more their high language than Quenya. Quenya is barely known in my mother’s realm and completely disregarded in Mirkwood.”

“Interesting. They are Dark Elves, then?” Penlod asked.

“The Sindar of them, yes. They descend from a group of the Teleri.” Celebrian said.

“This is confusing.” Rog muttered as he dodged the swat of Ecthelion’s hand.

“Especially when one considers they are wood elves and not sea elves.” Celebrian agreed, a smile gracing her face. The first sea journey of the Silvan would be quite an amusing event. She only hoped Cirdan would forgive the elves for being sick all over his boat.

*****************************

“Lady Laeriel, I think I am about to be sick.”

Laeriel pressed a comforting hand to the young stable hand who stood at her side. She whispered word’s against the elf’s brow, the familiar sensation of her own healing abilities calming herself as they calmed her patient.

“Should the ground be so unsteady?” Another elf asked.

“Just getting off your sea legs is all.” A silver-haired elf said as he approached the group. “I am Ornu of the Teleri.”

Laeriel approached the elf and bowed her head, “I am..”

“Laeriel, daughter of Malthenon and Thiadvain.”

“I prefer to go by the title Lady Laeriel of Mirkwood now. Wife of King Thranduil, and mother of Berenon, Merileth, Tholinnas, and Legolas. Times and priorities change.” Laeriel replied, her tone as biting as the sea winds that tossed her hair.

“As do titles.” The elf said. “I apologize.”

“No need.” Laeriel sighed. “I am well aware how my mother chooses to ignore my marriage.”

Ornu placed a calloused hand over his mouth, covering a wide smile. “I fear, she has not changed.”

Laeriel shook her head, “She never will.” She laughed, “Excuse my lack of manners. Thank you for greeting us.”

“I should apologize for not giving you a proper welcome.” Ornu said. He spread his arms wide, “Welcome to Alqualondë.”

Laeriel studied her people looking around in wonder, excited whispers and pointing fingers. She was certain they were huddled behind her presence, all two hundred of them.

“The evening meal is about to be served if you would like to join us….” Ornu trialed off, as an elf fell to his knees and was sick. “Perhaps not.”

Tholinnas managed to speak through his laughter. “I fear the only water travel we have done involves ferries and rafts down a river. You must excuse our lack of manners.”

“The gesture is much appreciated.” Laeriel said. “I think we will stick to some light bread and water until we have adjusted.”

Ornu nodded. “A good plan, I must agree.” He held out an arm, “Please, follow me to the guest lodgings.”

Laeriel exchanged glances with her son, as they began to walk up the path. She ignored the small groans and sounds of boxes and packs being dropped behind her. She spoke quietly to Ornu, “It is much appreciated, your offer, but I desire to travel to the main land as soon as possible. I am in great need of securing, well, everything for my people.”

“As you shall.” Ornu assured her. “Cirdan ordered the preliminary requirements for you and your son to stay in Tirion. We will keep your people here on Alqualonde until you find suitable lodgings for them. We have anticipated your visit for many months and are grateful to have so many new faces.”

“I thank you, greatly, for your aid.” Laeriel replied.

“We know more of the Silvan than the other elf tribes on Aman. Our kin ties us together. Cirdan assured us over the years that they are good beings, if a bit eccentric.” Ornu said.

“They are true wood elves. None have lived near the coast for very long, this will be a new experience for them but I think it best to keep them here, closer to Arda than on the mainland. The sky is still the same here.” Laeriel said, eyes turning to the clouds beginning to cover the darkening sky.

“The stars change the closer you near the dwellings of the Valar, it does take one some time to adjust.” Ornu lowered his voice, “I must warn you about the prejudices you may experience on the mainland.”

Laeriel patted his shoulder, “I am well aware of them, Ornu. I have lived with them for Ages and knew the battle we would face upon our arrival here. Luckily we are stubborn people with an amazing ability to adjust and survive. We cut the Woodland Palace out of the rock with our own hands. We built or talans with no labor but our own. We can do the same here. Do not let our jewels, slim builds, and sea sickness convince you other wise. We are quite known for our rash and curt manner.”

Ornu studied her. “You are a good leader of your people.”

“Someone must run and protect the realm when the King and his sons are off fighting.” Laeriel replied.

They stopped at a doorway to the guest house and Laeriel stood outside as all her people entered, the young elflings the most joyous of all.

“Do you know, Ornu,” Laeriel said. “Where Lady Celebrian of Imladris has relocated?”

Ornu smiled. “Oh, you do not know what you are about to come upon.” Ornu nodded, “I know well where she lives, but I fear it is my duty to prepare you for just what you will meet there.”

Tholinnas exchanged a startled and worried glance with is mother before turning back to Ornu and the story he was beginning to tell.

**************************************************

“Incoming!” Tuor yelled as a bag of tools fell from the rafters of the second level of the house.

Celebrian huffed and glared up at her husband’s grandfather.

Tuor shrugged, “I am more ship builder.”

“I do not recall ships from Gondolin but I do recall the tales of you building your own house.” Celebrian yelled up at him.

“She’s got you there, Tuor.” Ecthelion said.

“May I remind you of Glorfindel’s role in building my house.” Tuor replied.

“He is much better with wood construction than you are.” Ecthelion agreed.

“I am beginning to understand why Idril was the one who designed and ordered the building of those tunnels.” Celebrian muttered as she tied the bag of tool to a rope and began the process of hoisting them back up to the elves.

“Another elf much better at house building than Tuor.” Rog replied.

“Rog, shouldn’t you be fashioning horse shoes somewhere?” Tuor asked, grunting as he forced a wooden beam into place.

Rog waved his hammer at Tuor, “Listen here, old man, I will shove these nails up your..”

“Children, please.” Celebrian hissed.

“Sorry, Celebrian.” Two contrite elves and one man responded.

“Just please, construct. Focus. Just think, the sooner you finish my home the sooner you can plan all of your revenge and pranks in building Glorfindel’s home.” Celebrian said, smiling on the inside as she though of the vengeance Morwen would bring down on them all.

“She does have a good point.” Ecthelion agreed.

“Yes, but it will be years until Glorfindel is here. The last estimate just got bumped back by two decades.” Rog muttered.

“We really do want to leave his bedroom unfinished with a great big hole under the bed.” Tuor agreed.

“Once your estate is finished, what are we going to build?” Rog asked.

“A home for the Silvan elves.” Penlod said. Dismounting his horse and waving a greeting to all, he took a deep breath. “The ship that arrived last week contained a contingent of Silvan elves led by a non-Silvan she-elf. Lady something of Mirkwood.”

“Laeriel?” Celebrian asked. “Is she well, has she been injured?”

“Despite many cases of sea sickness, all are well. They were ordered to leave by Thranduil, Oropher’s son.” Penlod said.

“Oropher had a son?” Ecthelion asked, his jaw dropping slightly.

“Some she-elf was drunk and desperate enough to sleep with him?” Rog asked.

“Oh yes,” Penlod said, “a son who became King apparently.”

“Yes, he is called the Woodland King on Arda. His people love him dearly and he protects them from as many threats as he is able.” Celebrian said.

“What do they need protecting from?” Ecthelion asked.

Celebrian sighed. “At the Battle of the Last Alliance, due to miscommunication among other things, Oropher fell. Out of all the elven armies, Mirkwood lost the most. Only 1/3 of their forces returned and their home was attacked by loose bandits. They were often taunted for their many trips home in between the battles. But, what where they to do? All able fighters, male and female, left the wood in duty to their king. They were ridiculed for their small numbers and their rudimentary armor. The Noldor lost a king, and many soldiers. The Sindar and Silvan of my mother’s land lost their Capitan and many soldiers. The Silvan lost their king, twelve of their captains, most of their soldiers, their reputation, their pride, and all sense of security in their land. Peace returned for some time but, it rose again, the darkness. Mirkwood is on the doorstep.”

“They pulled everyone inside figuring lest venturing outside their realm would mean less danger.” Tuor said as he listened to the brief tale of Mirkwood.

“Much like a city adorns itself with seven gates.” Ecthelion replied. “I will like to meet this Laeriel.”

Celebrian smiled, “I am certain you will, as she is kin to Glorfindel.”

Celebrian ignored the amazed silence behind her and the sounds of Ecthelion falling down in shock. Yes, she had learned to identify the elves by the sounds their bodies made when they collapsed. They all really were a gaggle of rough-housing elflings.

These were the times she missed Elladan and Elrohir. As chaotic, troublesome, violent and destructive as the twins could be, they had an admirable skill for finishing their works amidst their cloud of chaos, trouble, violence and destruction.

Celebrian walked to the edge of her property and stared down over Tirion, wondering if Laeriel was somewhere below.

**********************************

Laeriel held her head high as she walked through the marketplace, Tholinnas trialing behind her. Her parents had sent a message urging her to stay put while they sent an escort to the city. Never one to waste time, Laeriel was already in the process of finding possible recruits for the building her new home. She supposed some time could be devoted to admiring the Blessed Realm but really, the whispers were the same here as they were on Arda.

The outright pointing was new, but, honestly, among all these dark haired Noldor, Laeriel and Tholinnas could not be more obvious if they tried. Berthilon stood out the most, silver hair and green eyes quite unique even among the Teleri.

“Berthilon, please secure us some of those roasted almonds. I am feeling a bit hungry.” Laeriel said as she began to walk in the opposite direction.

Hearing a sigh, soon followed by a thump, Laeriel whirled around.

Berthilon stood glaring at the elf behind the stall, said elf who apparently felt the sudden need to close his stall. Berthilon’s hands were twitching and Laeriel knew he was fighting the urge to pull out the knives hidden under his cloak. Laeriel hurried over to him and laid a calming hand on his shoulder.

“We know little of your kind here.” The Noldor elf manning the stall sneered.

“Then you shall become accustomed to us.” Laeriel snapped. “Are you not in the manner of making a profit?”

“Of course.” The elf answered.

“We have coin,” Laeriel said, pouring a few out of the pouch from inside her sleeves. “You have food, this is where a mutually beneficial exchange is performed.”

“I don’t want your coin.” The elf said.

“Fine.” Laeriel said and reached up, pulling some of the loose jewels out of her hair. “Gems them? Diamonds? Rubies? I ask you to not demand too many of the emeralds as they are dear to me, but I can part with some.”

The elf spat at Laeriel’s feet. “I will do no business with you and your rustic kind, clinging to jewels and coin like the mortal men.”

“Rustics?” Laeriel asked, studying the boiled leather jerkin of the elf before her as she stood there in Arda’s finest silk. “Rustic?”

Tholinnas placed a claming hand on his mother’s shoulder, “Let us go, mother. I would rather not do business with an elf who carries such ignorance and hatred of the unknown. Who defies all sense of elven propriety by not welcoming new friends into the land.”

Laeriel nodded at her son, giving the stall elf once last glare, before walking off. “You are much kinder than your father.”

“Father would have had his stall destroyed by now, yes, but sometimes it is better to take the higher road.” Tholinnas cautioned.

“And make them cringe like fools as your acidic words delivered with a sweet smile settle in.” Berthilon said.

“My father did teach me some very valuable lessons.” Tholinnas said. “When one cannot intimidate, speak in calm tones with neutral words and try your best to insult while appearing the better elf to all gathered.”

“To think they’ve said your father has no sense of strategy.” Laeriel snorted.

“What is that?” Berthilon asked, his finger pointing to a shape on the horizon.

Laeriel sighed as a grand procession came into the city.

“My mother.” Laeriel sighed, she could recognize the house colors from this far off. “Tholinnas, you are about to see why I have told you very little of my mother. Your grandfather is a much more sensible elf.”

“I thought grandmother lived with you and father in the wood for many years.” Tholinnas said, standing a little closer to her side.

“Yes, and complained the entire time.” Laeriel smiled. “There was a reason why I spent so many hours wandering the woods as opposed to sitting in the house like a proper she-elf.”

“That bad?” Berthilon asked as he stood in front of both Laeriel and Tholinnas.

As her mother stepped out of the carriage, leaning heavily on one of the attendants. Laeriel sighed, “Worse.”

“Do you think we can make an escape?” Tholinnas asked, looking in every direction for a clear path.

“Tholinnas, brave elves must face their fate.” Laeriel said.

“Who said we are brave?” Tholinnas asked.

“I’ve certainly heard differently.” A warm voice said from behind them.

***************************

“So, what do these elves look like?” Rog asked. The elf sat on the roof of Tuor’s house as he worked through a small sack of sunflower seeds.

“Look for the light haired elves in the sea of dark.” Ecthelion muttered.

“Like that very stately looking she-elf and the two elves trailing behind her?” Minuialeth asked, pointing to a trio who were having a discussion with one of the street vendors.

Celebrian’s smile was wide and her laugh soft as she hurried down to the elves, listening to their proper scolding of the street vendor.

Rog and Ecthelion exchanged looks before rushing after her. Minuialeth picked up the forgotten snack and followed them in a more sedate manner. Even so, Tuor was still left running after them all.

“Oh look,” Tuor said, huffing as he ran behind them, “some one is trying to make a grand entrance.”

“Do you need as to carry you, old man?” Rog asked.

“Unlike some other elves, not all of us were granted with new bodies.” Tuor said.

“That’s what you get for just having to live through the Fall of Gondolin.” Rog said.

Most elves would view such a conversation as morbid or insulting, but after the first five months of “And this one time in the Halls..” talk, Celebrian found a new set of conversational mores in her life.

They approached the group quietly, all walking soft and breathing slow. Silent conversations passed between them as they managed to assemble behind the new elves.

“Tholinnas, brave elves must face their fate.” Laeriel said.

“Who said we are brave?” Tholinnas asked, a tone of sarcasm reminiscent of his father in his words.

“I’ve certainly heard differently.” Celebrian said.

Laeriel turned around, a large smile on her face. “I hoped to see you very soon.”

Celebrian held Laeriel in a tight embrace. She could not stop her tears nor the relief which rushed through her, someone else who could share her memories and could understand her own pain and longing.

She laughed as she pulled back from Laeriel and held her arms open for Tholinnas.

“A familiar face is a wonderful thing.” Tholinnas murmured into her hair.

Laeriel placed an arm around Celebrian’s waist, “You look…” Laeriel grew quiet. “I am thankful for this realm if only to see you like this again.”

Celebrian nodded, “I will one day tell you of my recovery.”

“Complete with all the mentions of high and important elves.” Rog grumbled from behind Celebrian.

Laeriel pulled back and studied Rog, Ecthelion, Penlod, Tuor and Minuialeth; recognition in her eyes. Celebrian knew Glorfindel had drew portraits of his friends from Gondolin, but only for Laeriel and only in Mirkwood.

Laeriel turned to Celebrian and said, “So, all of Gondolin flocks to you then?”

“Apparently I attract the re-born.” Celebrian replied.

“You were burdened with Glorfindel for many a year.”

“I was never burdened with your mother.” Celebrian said, gesturing to the elf approaching them.

“You are the daughter who disgraced the line by marrying a wood elf!” Ecthelion exclaimed. He held out a hand, “I have always wanted to meet you. The speech you gave to Thiadvain is repeated so many times here by elves wishing to marry against their parents’ wishes.”

“I thought you lived among the wood elves?” Celebrian asked.

“I did. My mother complained the entire time. We often took trips back to Lindon to satisfy her demands. I was not so happy.” Laeriel explained.

Celebrian passed a critical eye over Thiadvain, wondering how Fingolfin could allow one of his people to be so ostentatious. At that moment Elrond’s much loved voice reciting the legends of the First Age to the children whispered through her mind. It was laughable, honestly, how the Noldor looked down on the elves of Mirkwood for their love of gems when the Noldor had done so much worse in the pursuit of jewels.

“Laeriel, so good to..” Thiadvain’s words fell off as she studied her daughter.

Laeriel’s grace was silent and strong, much like her manner. She was decorated with jewels, like all of the elves of Mirkwood, but they were subtle. One could not decipher the diamonds in her hair unless they looked closely, nor could they tell the berries and leaves of her crown were composed of gems unless they stood in front of her. Celebrian realized now, studying the crown, that even the band was not true thicket but a dark copper. Laeriel’s jewels were worn as a matter of mere adornment not a statement of wealth and importance like her mother.

“Mother.” Laeriel said, the single word saying more than long speech.

“I see you are still bound to that wood elf, though I do not see him.” Thiadvain studied the crowd, bracelets and ears jangling with the signs of her wealth.
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“Yes, I am still bound to the King of Mirkwood, and he is not present as he plans to stay with his people for as long as possible.”

“He sends you with no escort, clearly he does not care for your safety.” Thiadvain said.

Celebrian heard Tholinnas whisper “oh no.” Before taking another step away from his infuriated mother. He tugged on Celebrian’s arm. “You may want to step back, she gestures violently when so angered and insulted.”

Celebrian saw the other wood elf step back as well, Ecthelion and Penlod following the same action. Rog was the only one who leaned forward, eager to see the war of words.

“Unlike some elves who ran in the face of battle,” Laeriel said, gesturing to her mother, “my husband stood his ground and survived. He has continued to survive in the midst of great danger and continues to uphold his honor. I was sent with a very large escort, but they are currently adjusting to life here as I find them a suitable place to live; I would not want them so close to you.”

Thiadvain glared at her daughter, “Good to know a daughter still cares for her mother’s needs.”

“I meant I did not wish to subject them to you; they have seen enough torture in their time.” Laeriel said, her tone cool and calm.

“I come all the way here to meet you and this is the response I receive. You are as ungrateful as you..”

“I have been here for over a week and you are only just arriving.” Laeriel stated. “If I had any choice in the matter, I would not even bother to see your face, father, is a different matter entirely.”

“You always have been a spoilt child.” Thiadvain said.

“What do you expect, from a parent such as you? How much did that carriage cost and how much do your servants earn?” Laeriel asked.

Thiadvain was silent.

“That is what I believed.” Laeriel said. She turned to Celebrian, “Do you know where we may secure some horses? I have a long journey to make. I wish to visit Glorfindel’s parents.”

“You cannot pass into Fingolfin’s lands unwelcome.” Thiadvain said. “I will see to it such an insolent child will not be allowed to pass..”

“Fingolfin has sent me the summons to his realm on the request of both Vanima and Artuo. They wished to welcome me here but are too busy helping their people with the harvest.”

“Um, horses are this way.” Penlod coughed.

“Good.” Laeriel said. She gave her mother one last long glare before turning.

Tholinnas lingered behind for a moment, before turning to his grandmother, “I once regretted my mothers lack of stories about you. I can clearly see she was only protecting us. Such a shame you will never know of us. I will certainly see to that.” Tholinnas smiled and patted Thiadvain on the shoulder. “And if you ever try to humiliate my mother in a public arena again, I can promise you, the lack of your child’s reputation will be the least of your problems.” Tholinnas pressed a kiss to Thiadvain’s cheek and smiled. “Have a good day.” He said.

Celebrian laughed as he walked by, Ecthelion joining her.

“I have a feeling,” Ecthelion said while he escorted Celebrian to the stables, “Aman is about to get much more interesting.”

******************************************************************************

Part Two to come soon