Into the Fire

Future to Unfold, part one, with some very tired odd commentary.



I feel before I should say anything else, I should really let people know that Tirnion, well, he was never supposed to exist. When I started writing “Lullaby of Love” in 2003, there was no Tirnion or Eluialeth or Thandrog or anything more than a basic story with a much different outcome from the one that I have, actually, presented. I started writing LoL again in 2006, and with that came new idea, story lines, character histories and characters in general. The canon I started in 2003 for these characters strays from what and who I now seem them as. I think the three year break was good, if only because it brought Tirnion to my door. He was also never supposed to be more than a character mentioned every now and again, but he latched on to my heart and brain and has taken over. Btw..that is howthe commentary looks.


Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien and company. Series title from Imogen Heap’s “Candlelight;” Story title and quote from her “Have You Got It In You?” song.

Future to Unfold:

Story One: Always on Form

Guard down

Floor's yours

Last man standing

Can we just get it over with?

-Imogen Heap, Have You Got It In You?

Mirkwood, TA 1089

He had to remember how to breathe.

Such a simple action; difficult, though by the weight crushing his chest.

He had to remember how to stand.

Such a difficult thing to do when one’s knees are giving out.

He had to remember how to speak.

So difficult when his mouth was dryer than a parched field.

He knew there were people speaking but all he could hear was his own heartbeat, the blood rushing through his ears.

I write like a screenwriter sometimes and I think that’s why I’m so hooked on dialogues and actions rather than 15-page descriptions of trees. The above scene is an example of where the physical reaction of Tirnion is clear in my mind; I probably should have emphasized the fact that it was so unlikely for his calm façade to be broken in public….perhaps for the re-writes then?

Sensation returned as he felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders. He peered up into the deep blue eyes of Berenon, crown prince of Mirkwood.

Berenon, by the way, rocks. ;)

“I need your assistance on the training field, Tirnion.” The elf said.

Tirnion nodded as he silently left the room still stuck in the daze from the blow the words from earlier had delivered.

She had said it so nonchalantly, so simply, so carelessly as if she was merely talking about a new dress.

Far too many adverbs in that sentence. Matt would kill me, bring me back to life, and kill me again. ::winces:: There’s another one for the re-write.

“I accepted Doldaer’s proposal.” Her musical voice had announced, her eyes happy and playful.

I had to name the fiancée, since he’s just been “nameless Golden Wood elf” for so long in the series. Once again, the elven name finder at Council of Elrond is love. And yes, the names do have meanings, because, well, they’re elves. Doldaer =something to do with nature. I have the list somewhere, I promise.

The shock of Merileth excepting the proposal of one of the march wardens of the Golden Wood should not have been such a shock but Tirnion was still struggling with understanding the words, the phrase, the statement.

Tirnion let Berenon lead him out of the chamber, clinging to the arm of his friend for support.

“Tirnion, it will be okay,” Berenon’s deep voice whispered, “it will all turn out well.”

Tirnion took a deep breath, “There is nothing to worry about, Berenon.”

“Tirnion…”

Tirnion shook his head, “I have no reason to feel this way. Nothing was ever promised to me….”

“My sister led you…”

“Your sister did no such thing, it was only my mind.”

“Tirnion…”

“Please, Berenon, just let us not speak of this,” Tirnion pleaded, “I would rather focus on something else now.”

“You can barely walk on your own.” Berenon admonished.

“I will be better once I have something to focus my mind on; not thinking about things, not pondering, it is sometimes good.” Tirnion said.

Erestor would have a fit if he heard such a statement. He’s where I start the ever-popular “divide” so to speak between those elves who act, generally, on instinct and those who rely on research and thinking and debating etc. etc. ad nausem.

Berenon shook his head as he moved them toward the indoor ranges, “I do not think this is right, but I see there will be no telling you what to do.”

Tirnion forced a weak smile to show, wanting to appease his friend, “Berenon, I shall be fine.”

If only Tirnion himself could believe such a thing.

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

Thranduil gripped the armrests on his seat in a tight hold as he listened to his daughter’s careless words.

I have a major fixation with Thranduil and his throne. I swear, every story I do, his positioned in that thing at least once.

His eyes strayed to his daughter’s hand confirming the sight of a glistening silver band. There was truly nothing Thranduil could do at this moment; his daughter had acted in haste and had sealed her own fate. Of course, as her father, he could demand the engagement be broke but Merileth was nothing if not her father’s child.

Which is to say stubborn, determined, and will do anything to get her own way when she feels she is right.

Thranduil had married against his father’s will and in private, Merileth would surely do the same. Unlike Thranduil, who as a male could be forgiven for his whims and as a king could protect his wife and family, Merileth’s reputation would be ruined by such an event.

The cultural aspect of the elven societies interest me on a level that could be termed “obsessed.” To me the elves of Mirkwood are somewhere between a Clan and a Feudal society. There is this importance placed on tradition and class, but there is also this unification they feel when it is “us against them.” More than any of the other elves, I do see them wary of outsiders, but more opening to accepting strangers which they prove their honor and their worth. To me they are the survivors of the elves and that’s why as a people they cling to some older traditions because, really, those intangible traditions are all they have left.

Thranduil opened his mouth to speak but was beat by his wife who looked anything less than pleased.

“I suppose,” Laeriel began with a cold tone, “we should be delighted to raise a daughter who so easily cuts to the quick in regards to the hearts of others.”

Oh, Laeriel, Laeriel, Laeriel. The mother-daughter conflicts do not skip a generation. This is, truly, rooted in my own belief that all mothers and daughters, despite how much they love each other, drive each other insane.

Merileth laughed, “Mother, you cannot hold me accountable for the broken hearts of all those elves in the court and in the realm.”

Oh, yes she can….

“Oh, but my dear daughter, I can hold you accountable for the heart you clearly so disregarded by announcing your engagement so carelessly in front of him.” Laeriel spat.

Again with the adverbs, ::sighs:: On another note, Laeriel does not take well to elves who throw away the hearts of others. Among Laeriel’s pet peeves, the first being her mother and the last being the smell of wet leather boots, those who hurt others, whether or not they meant to, rank high.

Thranduil was disinclined to hold his wife back from spewing her anger. Merileth, she had always been blessed with the love and affection of those around her. She was not a bad child, more spoilt perhaps, than her siblings, more used to getting her way and being adored. Merileth, however, knew well of Tirnion’s feelings for her and Tirnion, who had always been loyal and willing to serve their family, did not deserve such callous disregard for his own feelings.

Thranduil placed a hand on his wife’s arm, silently asking her to hold her tongue.

“Merileth,” Thranduil said, “it was wrong of you to make such an important announcement in front of so many people. Your mother and I should have been the only ones to hear such an announcement. Now the news will spread like wildfire, since I am certain more than a few people in the halls heard it through the open doors. Such matters are private, Merileth, until we decide how best they should be presented to the people.”

I think it is important to portray Thranduil as a level-headed father and ruler. He’s been painted a bastard in fanfic, which I never quite understood, because he’s in a hell of a situation. Yes, he loves jewels and wine, etc etc, but he still cares about his allies and his people and I find it hard to believe that an elven dungeon can be worse than a dwarven cave.

“Why should it matter to the people?” Merileth asked.

“Merileth, you are not marrying an elf of Mirkwood, you are marrying one of the Golden Wood, our rivals in many things.” Thranduil said.

“And a mere march warden at that.” Tholinnas muttered.

“A march warden is a perfectly acceptable..” Merileth started.

“Perhaps in the Golden Wood, it is perfectly acceptable,” Tholinnas said, “and even here you marrying one of our warriors of an equal rank would be acceptable. You, however, are marrying a foreign march warden, of a foreign realm, of a foreign people and in many ways that can be, and will be, viewed as an insult to Mirkwood.”

Tholinnas is not meant to just stand there and look pretty. He’s more brains than brawn (he has both), but he understands politics and diplomacy much more than his siblings. Why did he get shipped off to Aman then, you ask? Well, even if Tholinnas can not yet admit to the truth within himself, his father can see it and knew his son’s fate did not like in Mirkwood. There will be more of Tholinnas loss to come in SWG, and a deeper understanding of his character (for both writer and reader).

“We are all elves!” Merileth protested, “and should not such a marriage be viewed as building the bonds of alliance?”

Insert your favorite eye roll and snort here.

“We may have been able to say such a thing,” Laeriel said, “before the news was heard but since you have stood on such informality and spoken such words without any thought to the consequences we shall all have to weather the coming storm.”

Merileth regarded her mother with narrowed eyes, “Does my happiness mean nothing to you?”

Laeriel spoke without feeling, “If I believed you were truly happy, I would be rejoicing. As it is, all I see before me is a scared little girl who found someone much like the one she refuses to love. Your march warden is a poor imitation for the real elf you should marry.”

“I do not love Tirnion,” Merileth said, “I never have.”

“You always have, sister,” Legolas spoke up, “perhaps not the love between a bonded couple, but you have always loved him as a friend. You knew well he loved you more than that, Merileth, what you just did…..my dear sister, it was cruel.”

Ah, the token Legolas moment. Also, Laeriel had plans for Tirnion as her son-in-law and now she is just a tad pissed. Whether or not she wants to admit it, part of her understands how her own mother felt.

Thranduil watched as his daughter turned to him.

“Father?” she asked, “was I really so cruel?”

Thranduil let his breath out slowly before replying.

“Merileth,” he said, “you willingly toyed with someone’s affections for many of the past centuries and just completely disregarded all friendship and loyalty to Tirnion with your actions. Whether maliciously intended or not, you were careless with another’s feelings.”

“There is nothing to be done now,” Laeriel said, “so we must prepare for a feast to make an official announcement to the people.” Laeriel stood from her seat and gestured for Legolas and Tholinnas to follow her.

“Mother?” Merileth asked, her voice shaky, “Mother, do I have your blessing?”

Thranduil watched as Laeriel lowered her proud head for a scare minute and then approached Merileth. Laeriel studied their daughter for a long moment before embracing her.

“Yes, Merileth, you have my blessing.” Laeriel said, “but at this moment I am not quite happy with you. You understand why, yes?”

Merileth slowly nodded as she clung to her mother, “I was careless.” Merileth whispered, as quietly as she had when scolded as a child.

“Yes, you were.” Laeriel said. “Now, speak with your father.”

Merileth nodded as she removed herself from her mother’s arms and walked towards Thranduil.

Thranduil met his wife’s gaze one last time as she quietly closed the door, their curious younger sons taking one last look into the room before the discussion between father and daughter was to occur.

Thranduil and Laeriel really do have a language all their own. Of the “parents” in Arda and in this story arc, they’ve been married the longest and have been raising children together for the most time. Elrond and Celebrian could have saved themselves (and Lindir, Erestor, Glorfindel and half the Imladris troops) much trouble and many sleepless nights if they’d just ask for some advice.

Thranduil studied the golden haired she-elf before him. Merileth was far from young, having been born in the last half of the Second Age. She had seen many things, had watched the ever increasing darkness spread over her home. As annoyed as he was with her marriage to a mere march warden, he was pleased that his daughter was, at the very least, leaving this forest before it became worse. Thranduil had learned, long ago, to find the blessings within the curses; not doing so would have surely driven him to madness by now.

And there is my motto for Thranduil…::grumbles:: with an adverb.

Thranduil did not know what else to say to his daughter. Laeriel had passed on most of his reprimands before he had the chance to do so, placing herself as the harsh parent in this matter.

“Merileth, can you truly see yourself with this elf for eternity?” Thranduil asked.

“Yes, father, I can.” Merileth answered with as much conviction as he had ever heard from her.

He pressed a warm hand down on her shoulder, “Then you have my blessings as well, my daughter.” Thranduil said.

Merileth let out a shuddery breath, small tears tracking down her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, “thank you, father.”

Thranduil let the tears fall, knowing sometimes, just sometimes, tears had to fall and run their course.

“What about mother, Tholinnas, Tirnion?” Merileth asked.

Thranduil smiled softly, “My dear child, these things have a way of working themselves out. It will end well.”

“How can you know such things?”

Thranduil laughed, “I am the Woodland King, Merileth, how dare you question my knowledge?”

To me, Thranduil is well aware of his reputation and finds great amusement in it. I like throwing in little comments like this to illustrate that idea.

Merileth smiled then and Thranduil, though he may have never told anyone but his wife, would have given up all the gold and gems in his hoard if he knew his daughter would always smile through her tears.

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

Ormeril winced as she heard yet another book fall to the wrath of Arodeth.

“How dare that whore of a princess do this to our brother?” Arodeth demanded.

Arodeth rules, and she will make your life hell if your cross her.

“Arodeth…” Ormeril tired to soothe her sister before anyone came upon the ranting she-elf and her sibling.

“She is one of the most spoilt, stubborn, foolish members of the ruling class I have ever met! If that is the future of Mirkwood,” Arodeth said as she shook a book at Ormeril, “then I say we board the next boat for the West!”

Ormeril sighed as the volume of wood elf lore was sent flying into the nearest wall. It had been a mere three weeks since Merileth’s engagement, two since the official banquet, and one since the soon to be husband of the princess had made his first appearance in the realm.

It was quite fascinating to watch the reaction to the news and the appearance of Doldaer; there were those like Arodeth who had grown more and more enraged as the weeks had gone by, there were those like their mother, Tangwen, who lamented Merileth’s choice as one that could only leave her in despair, and then there were those much like that horrible elf Bellion who said at least Merileth had not become engaged to a Noldo.

Then there was her brother. Tirnion had been doing his best to keep the smile on his face and the proud strength in his shoulders, but it was clear to all that Tirnion’s strength was waning. Ormeril had ordered her husband to keep an eye on her brother. Claurion had made his concerns known, that Tirnion’s reaction time was slowing but had assured her that in terms of his sense of smell and hearing, he was still one of the best elves to have present.

Thranduil most have noticed the decreasing spirit in Tirnion for the King had pulled Tirnion off of active duty and ordered him to pack. He was sending Tirnion to Imladris for the winter.

Ormeril had a feeling it was that last order, sending their brother away in such a time of need, that had inspired this most recent rage in Arodeth.

“Arodeth, please stop destroying the books.” Tangwen ordered from the doorway, Tirnion, standing by her side. There was a pack by Tirnion’s feet and his hands were full of their mother’s homemade meals for the road.

Let me just say that I adore Tirnion’s family and could write their entire history. Of them all, Tirnion is the most mellow but does have his moments of rage. Arodeth is usually rage-ing, but does have her moments of mellow. Ormeril is somewhat in between, unless she is really angry, and Tangwen has no issue or problem with doing what she can to get her way. Yet, she will still make her son meals for the road.

“Come wish your brother a good journey.” Tangwen ordered and both sisters rushed to their younger brother’s side.

“You do not have to go,” Arodeth said, “we can..”

“Teach me Imladrian training techniques?” Tirnion asked, some amusement in his voice.

“We can help you.” Arodeth insisted.

Ormeril felt her self breathe a sigh of relief as Tirnion softly smiled and looked as if he wished to embrace their older sister.

“Arodeth,” Tirnion said, “I do not doubt your love for me and that you are more than willing to give your own strength to support me but I… I need to do this. I need time to sort myself out and I cannot do that here knowing every elf and tree and…animal looks at me with eyes filled with pity.”

Ormeril nodded, “Listen to him sister; Imladris is a healing place.”

“It is too far away from us.” Arodeth insisted.

“My dear Arodeth,” Tirnion said, “you are never too far away; always there, always a nagging voice in my head.” Tirnion teased.

“Perhaps you will listen to it one of these days.” Arodeth muttered, but the amusement was clear in her voice.

“Must you go alone?” Ormeril asked. She had insisted Claurion ride with him but Tirnion had said, his captain had to come before his wife in this matter and the captain had ordered Claurion to stay put.

“I must, Ormeril, even if I would enjoy Claurion’s company I must prove I can do this on my own.”

Because I do think all elves suffer from pride and stubbornness and here is Tirnion’s.

“It is dangerous.” Ormeril said.

“It is foolish.” Arodeth added.

“It must be done.” Tangwen said. “We all have different ways of healing; warriors most of all.”

“Cursed pride.” Arodeth spat.

“Cursed rage.” Tirnion answered, repeating his common answer to Arodeth’s taunt from childhood.

Ormeril embraced her brother, mindful of the food he still held, “I wish you well on your journey. Contact us once you have settled in.”

“Contact us once you are halfway there.” Arodeth insisted.

“And enjoy your time there. Lean on those in Imladris as you will not let yourself lean on us.” Tangwen said as she started to lead her family outside.

“If you want me to, I can do something to pay Merileth back for her carelessness.” Ormeril said.

“Ormeril, no!” Tirnion admonished her as he placed the food carefully into his pack.

“What about Doldaer?” Ormeril asked, feeling the need to earn some revenge for the family.

Tirnion smiled widely for a moment, “Why I will not throw my support to any action taking against the betrothed of our princess, I would not be so upset if he was personally introduced to our famous river.”

Ormeril grinned, “Consider it done.”

Because the children of Tangwen are truly evil when you piss them off and then let them meet and plan together. Really it is just the family presenting a united force.

Many elves made the mistake of judging Arodeth as the more dangerous of the sisters, but Ormeril was the one who often sought some form of vengeance for those who had wronged her family.

Tirnion laughed softly and held out his arms to be embraced by his whole family.

“I will send you letters of my journey and my healing’s progress.” Tirnion assured them.

Because it’s not like Morwen wouldn’t make him do it anyway….

“Do you not mean, your learning of Imladrian training techniques?” Ormeril asked.

“Those as well.” Tirnion answered. “Now, I must go off to the stables and ride out before night falls.”

“We could accompany you.” Arodeth offered, always the overprotective sister.

Tangwen was the one who saved her son from attempting to refuse his older sister, “Arodeth, Tirnion is a grown elf I am certain he is more than capable of going to the stables by himself.”

Tangwen is, at least, trying to make herself believe that.

“Thank you, mother.” Tirnion answered, a small spark of his old self returning.

“Ride well, be safe, and come back to us healthy and, if not that, alive.” Tangwen said.

“Stay safe.” Tirnion answered before turning to leave.

Ormeril knew any who saw the exchange might think it odd but Tangwen had insisted years ago that “goodbyes” and “farewells” only be used in very special occasions. There was no point in tempting fate by telling an elf “goodbye” only to never see them again. Ormeril supposed it was a warrior thing.

As she watched her brother gracefully make his way to the stable, Ormeril knew, without any doubt, her brother would survive this.

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

Tirnion felt the comforting eyes of his family slip away as all the looks of knowing and pity followed him into the stables.

It was ridiculous, really, how everyone was treating him. He was hardly the first elf to suffer from heartbreak.

Though, he had to admit most other heartbroken elves’ objects of affection were not known in three, possibly four elven realms. Morwen, perhaps, being the one difference. Fate had been kind to her though, she had achieved her heart’s desire.

Perhaps that was why Tirnion could not understand the weakness he was feeling; yes, he was upset Merileth had so casually announced her betrothal in front of him, had disregarded his feelings when she well knew them but……..

…all things considered, he did not believe his health would be deteriorating. He knew, he had always known, Merileth could not be his. Theory and practice were different things, as any warrior could tell, but still….Tirnion did not believe he should be showing the first signs of fading. He knew he was even if no one dared to speak such things.

A broken heart was merely broken; it was neither dead nor destroyed.

I kind of have a sick love and affection for the line above. It reminds me of something…maybe from the movie “Hope Floats” but I’m not sure.

He should not be feeling like this and that uncertainty was almost more painful than the heartbreak.

Tirnion is, despite appearances, a bit of a control freak and a Type-A personality. Uncertainty is something he fears.

He felt peace as he walked deeper inside the stable; at least the horses did not appear to feel pity for him. If they did, they were much better at hiding it than any elf.

Giving the proper greetings such noble animals deserved Tirnion finally stood in front of his own horse, Sael.

Tirnion patted the muzzle of Sael softly. He had always been a fine horse, certainly one of the bravest mounts Tirnion had ever had the good grace to know and ride.

“We are to go on a journey, you and I. You will like Imladris; all my other horses have.” Tirnion told Sael.

“Imladris does the have reputation for reviving both elf and horse.” An amused voice replied.

Tirnion glanced to the entrance and saw Thranduil walk across the threshold.

“My King.” Tirnion said with a slight bow.

Thranduil waved his hand, “Is a crown resting on top of my head?”

Tirnion glanced up, noting the absence of the winter crown, “No.”

“Then now I am merely an elf helping another off on a journey.” Thranduil pressed an arm to Tirnion’s shoulder, “You will heal there.”

“I do not wish to be seen as abandoning my post.” Tirnion argued, albeit halfheartedly.

“You are traveling to Imladris to learn vital training techniques which will be applied to our forces upon your return.” Thranduil said sounding just as authoritative as ever.

Because it’s not like Tangwen and Laeriel didn’t make him rehearse that line for weeks on end.

“Of course.” Tirnion stated with a perfectly blank face.

“I can have any elf exiled who mocks you.” Thranduil offered.

“We would have few citizens left.” Tirnion muttered.

“Oh, Tirnion, really it is not that bad. You are harboring a heartbreak from over a thousand years. I think you are allowed to journey off to visit your friends; and if anyone says something against it I will make a decree that elves in high positions who face great shocks or great stress are forced to take a sabbatical outside of the realm.”

Because Thranduil really is a big softie, especially in regards to Tangwen’s children. Also, second favorite line of the story.

Tirnion smirked, “Can a mere elf who is helping a friend off on a journey decree such a thing?”

“While the crown may not be there it is never really gone.” Thranduil patted Tirnion’s shoulder before he began to pet Sael, “I do need you to learn the training techniques Glorfindel has to offer. I was going to send you off after winter had passed, with or without Merileth’s betrothal.”

“Would it not have been possible to make the council aware of that before I left; I know they were the ones who..” Tirnion broke off, not wishing to give into the anger and frustration he felt.

“Loose tongues and lips live in the council, the halls, the stables and the fields.” Thranduil reminded him, his tone friendly rather than reproachful.

“You are, as always, correct.” Tirnion responded.

“Of course I am.” Thranduil said. “Now, let us get you off before the sun sets.”

Tirnion nodded and pulled Sael out of his place, leading him toward the preparation area.

Thranduil placed a strong hand on Tirnion’s face and titled his chin up, forcing the elf to meet his eyes.

“You are not weak.” Thranduil stated or ordered. Tirnion was not sure which.

Tirnion nodded and said, “I am not weak.”

“Good.” Thranduil said as he began to make Sael ready to ride.

As a young elf Tirnion had not been so much taunted for not having a father; many of his companions having also lost a parent or a sibling, but he had always felt he was lesser than the others; was missing something vital. Watching Thranduil check his horse’s bridle for safety and his pack for security, Tirnion knew well he had not been so denied. Thranduil was not as familiar or as imposing as a father but he was a comforting presence.

Even if Tirnion was not healed completely in Imladris he knew well that the one elf who stood before him would never give up in the pursuit to see Tirnion healed.

For that, Tirnion was humbled.

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

Tirnion pulled his cloak tighter around his body as he began to feel the cold of the night. If he was not so focused on keeping himself and Sael alive by staying on guard, he would be feeling panic. Of course, elves knew what it was to be cold but they were more than capable of enduring it without much of a thought or worry.

Tirnion had never shivered due to cold in all of his years. He supposed this shaking going through his body now was that act; he had seen such a condition in humans.

Tirnion starred at his hands in wonder. His skin felt dry, as if it was about to crack. Crack and bleed; blood trickling through dried skin much as his sprit trickled through whatever he was becoming.

On a personal note, the reason for this lovely description was my own cracked and bleeding hands due to too many days of sub-zero wind chills in Boston and me forgetting my gloves.

Sael nudged his elf in the shoulder, pushed him to get up.

Better to move forward on a pass, in the cold, at night, then to sit down in the middle of the way. Every horse knew such a thing. Rest could be found in much better conditions. It was time to move on; it was time to keep going.

Tirnion stood up hesitantly, allowed Sael to be his strength as he found his ground.

He placed his pack on his back.

He mounted his horse.

He remembered to keep breathing.

Sael carried them on down the road.

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

Tirnion never understood how coming over the mountains could feel like following a path from darkness into light. No matter which way he headed, be it east or be it west, the mountain passes always felt like the way into nothingness. In a way the mountains were; the snow blanketing sounds and footprints, blocking the sky and the rock. The snow was nothingness and bathed the mountains in its essence.

A lesser elf could lose his mind going alone through those mountains.

It’s like the Cliffs of Insanity! (er, sorry, I really love the Princess Bride and can’t help my random dorkish exclamations.

“Of course,” Tirnion said as he patted Sael’s mane, “an elf is never truly alone with a friend like you.”

Sael shook his head in agreement, the horse regaining just that much more strength as they moved closer away from the mountain range.

They had been on this journey for longer than Tirnion had planned; he had been surprised his own ability to endure a relentless pace had not been as much as it had in the past. They had been lucky, very lucky, to have made it this far without any incident.

Tirnion knew the way to Imladris was just around the bend; he could feel the sense of welcome in his very being; the whispers of warmth coming to greet him.

He never quite understood how the way to Imladris would reveal itself. When weary travelers with no malicious intent were passing by and none knew the path to follow somehow the way would appear. The first time Tirnion had journeyed to Imladris he was not able to discern the path, only knew they were walking down one. Upon his departure he was amazed to see a way appear in the ground. It was the power of Elrond some said; the magic of the valley others; Tirnion believed it was a combination of both. He had never quite developed the nerve to ask Glorfindel, much less Morwen, which of the theories were true.

He brought Sael into the main courtyard. He turned his head to the west and thought he heard the sounds of an advancing party but could not be certain. Tirnion dismounted and briefly hugged Sael, “Thank you, my friend.” The elf whispered, smiling as the horse merely threw his head back.

Tirnion took a deep breath; he let the air out slowly; he smiled at how easy it was to breathe.

As he turned to move he felt arms wrap around his side as the air rushed out of him. Pressing a soft kiss to the brow of the she-elf clinging to his right side he smiled as he felt another, smaller body, wrap around his left side.

This is a scene and a period of time I come back to over and over again in my fics. I believe I have one more incarnation of it to go and then, finally, I’ll put this part of Tirnion’s life to rest.

“Are you…” Morwen hesitated over her words, “…better?” she finally asked.

Tirnion noticed the hope and her eyes and as much as he wanted to, for her sake, he could not lie to someone he respected and cared for so much. He shook his head, “Not yet.” Tirnion was surprised to find it difficult to force his answer out. He cleared his throat, “not yet, but there will be time to recover.”

A voice from near his elbow said, “Well, they are just betrothed, correct? That could still end.”

Because Eluialeth doesn’t know the meaning of the word tact, and especially did not know it all those years ago.

Tirnion could not help but laugh at Eluialeth’s words; the small elf always had a unique way of saying and seeing things. Tirnion brightened as he felt his first genuine laugh in many weeks fill him. While Morwen may have been scolding Eluialeth, Tirnion wanted to thank her for such words and spirit. He felt more alive just standing in the face of such a stubborn soul.

Tirnion reached out a hand to pat Eluialeth on the head, still surprised how small in stature she was. Eluialeth may have had a delicate frame but she was anything but weak and small; despite all nicknames to the contrary.

“Oh, my little poppet,” Tirnion said as he felt his laughter subside, “even if that was such a possibility, I would not wish such a thing on them. She loves him.”

Eluialeth rolled her bright eyes much to Tirnion’s amusement, “Love is overrated.” She said with all the wisdom of her years.

Oh dear, sweet, ignorant Eluialeth. You will come to rue those words, my dear.

Tirnion did not have the heart to dispute her and merely smiled as Morwen muttered, “Out of the mouth of elflings…”

This was peace.

This was warmth.

This was living.

And Tirnion remembered how to breathe.

I do often fixate on the idea of breathing because how we breathe, the depth, the amount of time, the cadence, is all tied into how we are feeling and responding to a situation. It may be seen as a cheap way to convey emotion, but it’s something I believe in and will continue to focus on. And yes, me, I am big on breathing exercises and mediation.

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End, story one.