High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis

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Chapter Ten     New Beginnings

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‘Well, your escort to Tirion looks... wet.’ Glorfindel remarked as he observed the stables from above. He had only recently made the journey from the City back to the House of Elrond himself, but that had been before the weather had changed so drastically.

Ereinion rose from his chair and joined the other Elf at the window.

They both chuckled for a moment.

‘I do hope this weather will not last beyond nightfall,’ Glorfindel continued.

‘Indeed. My entrance would be too muddy to be easily forgotten,’ the High Prince replied.

The golden-haired Elf-lord looked at him.

‘Ereinion the muddy.’

Narrowing his eyes, which never lost a certain amused glimmer, Ereinion observed him.

‘Continue and I shall make sure you receive a fitting epessë as well.’

‘Such as?’

‘Do not underestimate the imagination of a politician.’

‘I am trembling in fear.’

‘Well, you would be.’

‘Oh be quiet.’

—~~*~~—

Elrohir removed his hood as he ascended the flight of stairs, finding Mîrlinde waiting at the top.

‘Welcome back,’ she smiled, as her husband bent forward to kiss her carefully.

‘Hennaid, hiril,’ he smiled.

‘Your entire journey was wet?’ she asked, already very well aware of the answer.

‘We rode out in rain, yes. I doubt it shall abate before morning,’ he replied, meanwhile allowing himself to be helped out of his wet cloak. ‘My brother has not yet returned from visiting the Gardens of Lórien?’

Taking his arm, Mîrlinde smiled.

‘He indeed has not. Possibly he is wise enough to wait until the weather brightens. And now, methinks a warm bath will do you good.’

With a grin, Elrohir looked upon her.

‘Ah, do join me, meleth-nîn?’

‘Perhaps,’ she said, trying to keep from laughing. ‘Are there no messages from Tirion that need to be delivered?’

‘Well, I am not Ereinion’s messenger-boy,’ Elrohir answered, a broad grin teasing around his lips. ‘Elernil is.’

—~~*~~—

The boy’s eyes were dark as he stood in the library, every inch of his outer apparel drenched.

Observing him, Glorfindel could not help laughing.

‘Did you fall into the river?’ Ereinion asked incredulously, though there was a certain amount of amusement to be distinguished from his voice as well.

‘You would think so,’ Elernil replied, lifting an arm and watching the water run off, resulting in a puddle on the stone floor. ‘I am cold.’

‘Are these messages so important then, that you are not allowed to change beforehand?’ Ereinion asked, pouring a glass of wine.

Elernil shrugged.

‘Ada said they were likely mere congratulations, but to bring them to you immediately nevertheless.’

Ereinion motioned him to sit down and handed him the glass.

‘Don’t drink too fast, or you grandmother shall not allow me to ever return to this house,’ he warned mildly.

Obediently, Elernil sipped the red liquid.

Glorfindel nodded.

‘I shall find you something to dry yourself with.’

Leaning against the table, Ereinion began skimming through the messages, and smiled.

‘Glorfindel is getting too fatherly.’

‘Am not!’ came a reply from somewhere down the hall.

Elernil smiled and tasted the wine again. He grimaced when Ereinion looked at him.

‘It is sour.’

‘You do not like it?’

‘I am not certain.’

‘It took me quite some getting used to, when I was your age... Perhaps I was older. Next time we shall find you a draught somewhat sweeter in taste.’

Biting his lip, he stared at one of the letters.

‘Do these come to my grandfather’s Halls? Or were they handed to you personally?’

‘Actually,’ Elernil said, setting down the glass and rising so he could easier see which message the High Prince was speaking of, ‘These were sent to the Halls where you shall be living in Tirion.’

Raising an eyebrow, Ereinion looked at him.

‘You are relentlessly teasing me?’

‘I am not,’ came the simple reply.

‘And where are these Halls? Or, more importantly, whose bright idea was it to give me Halls? Ah, do not tell me, I think one guess would suffice...’ He sighed deeply and stared at Elernil for a moment. The young Elf smiled.

‘The building is situated in the west of the City, since that, supposedly, shall be the part of Tirion that will be placed under your care. The architecture is quite stunning.’

‘I am certain it would be,’ Ereinion replied, sitting down before looking up at Elernil. ‘No way of knowing who delivered it then?’

Looking smug, the boy smiled.

‘I believe the message was brought by one of the Lords in the service of that House. I am sure my father would be able to tell you.’

‘Not personal then?’

‘It is rare messages are brought personally.’ Elernil looked at the letter again. ‘What is so important about it that you enquire so deeply into its delivery?’

‘Forget I asked, it matters little.’

Glorfindel entered and handed some towels to Elernil. Ereinion, meanwhile placed the letter within his tunic and rose with a smile.

‘Get yourself dry clothes Elernil.’

With those words, he departed the library, leaving Glorfindel and Elernil to stare after him, somewhat surprised.

‘What ails him?’ Glorfindel asked.

‘I know not,’ Elernil answered, removing his cloak and attempting to dry his hair. ‘It had something to do with a letter. He said it was nothing.’

‘”Nothing” is a curious thing when it concerns Ereinion. His nothings are usually very interesting nothings.’

—~~*~~—

‘So, how is Tirion reacting on the imminent arrival of it’s new High Prince?’ Mîrlinde asked, as she washed her husband’s back.

‘There are already voices going up in the Council that Ereinion is too young. They conveniently forget he has dwelt within the bounds of Arda longer than most of them.’ Elrohir, leaning forward, seemed to be quite worked up about it. His wife smiled and pulled him back against her.

‘Elrohir?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do not fret.’

He sighed and caught one of her hands to place a kiss upon it.

‘They treat him as if he were a child... Merely because he is one of the youngest members of the Council.’

‘If I know Ereinion,’ Mîrlinde spoke softly, caressing her husband’s hair. ‘He shall walk in there, do one of those eloquent speeches he is so good at, and win them all over before anyone has had the time to object.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘I consider it a certain thing. But do not speak of the Council. The City, how do the people react?’

Smiling, Elrohir seemed to unwind.

‘Perchance it is because he is the youngest, and they have seen him grow up not that many years ago, rather then anything else. In any case, most are very pleased with the fact that the elfling is returning. He is held in high regard.’

‘Also because he seems less serious than his father and grandfather, I deem.’

‘It might even be the main reason. And he has always been among the citizens more. He knows what lives among society, not just inside the Council. And his refusal to join it before has done well.’

With a content groan he turned and kissed Mîrlinde.

‘And now we shall not speak any longer of this, for we shall be leaving tomorrow, and we do not have that much time.’

Giggling, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.

‘Agreed, my Lord.’

—~~*~~—

‘Ada?’

Elrond looked up from his occupation and smiled at his daughter.

‘Celebriníel?’

She returned his smile, then shook her head.

‘Never mind.’

For a short moment, Celebrían turned and, as their gazes met, gave her husband a small smile. Elrond returned to the braiding of his wife’s hair as he spoke to the small girl seated beside them on the bed.

‘Never mind, little one?’

‘Yes.’ Celebriníel replied, busying herself with a book containing songs.

‘This is not a good thing to say to your father, meluihên,’ Celebrían said, reaching out and pulling her daughter’s silver tresses a little. ‘He shall keep asking until he has found out what it was you wished to say.’

Elrond grinned and pressed a kiss against Celebrían’s neck.

‘Your mother speaks from experience.’

Celebriníel closed the book and climbed onto her mother’s lap.

‘I just wish the rain would stop.’

‘It will stop, Briníel, I am certain it will be dry tomorrow,’ Elrond answered, as his fingers worked on a last intricate weaving of silver. No fastenings were needed, and he ran his fingers through the looser strands of hair at the back of Celebrían’s head.

‘Can you braid my hair too, Ada?’

Chuckling, Elrond sat back.

‘You would manage to pull them out in a matter of hours.’

‘Would not.’

Tempted as he found himself to engage into this argument with his daughter, he did not.

‘Very well then, come.’

Celebrían smiled and left them for a moment, only to find both her husband and daughter softly singing upon her return. Not a moment later Elrond was off the bed, lifting Celebriníel and setting her down on the floor, some practical braids at the side of her head, apparently enough to please the girl. With a broad smile he caught Celebrían’s hand, and kissed her, before leaving the rooms.

Amused, she looked at Celebriníel, who seemed caught up fingering the braids.

‘If you remove them, your father will not be too pleased.’

Smiling, Celebriníel looked up.

‘Ada is a bit sad with Ereinion leaving.’

‘I think everyone shall miss Ereinion.’

Nodding Celebriníel suddenly seemed to realise something. Then she ran off, leaving her mother as amused as before.

‘Her father’s daughter indeed.’

—~~*~~—

‘Ereinion!’ she called, pushing the door open.

The High Prince seemed to be busy packing some last things.

‘Ah, it is the little troublemaker,’ he smiled, looking up at his visitor. ‘And what is it she desires of me now?’

‘Just to tell you that you must come back soon, and often,’ she said airily, while jumping onto the bed. ‘Ada braided my hair.’

‘And a very good job he did, if they are still present,’ Ereinion replied seriously. ‘And I promise will come back as often as I can be spared.’

‘Good.’

‘You know Elrohir and Elernil have returned a while ago?’

‘Yes, but Elrohir is with Mîrlinde and Elernil is wet. Did you get letters?’

‘Indeed I did,’ he replied, suspiciously. ‘Why do you ask?’

Celebriníel shrugged.

‘Glorfindel said you did.’

‘It was all he said?’

‘No. Also something about your nothings being interesting...’ she narrowed her brow for a moment before looking up at him. ‘I am not certain what he meant.’

Ereinion nodded.

‘Glorfindel tends to be like that. He always has been rather fond of acting mysteriously.’

‘I suppose... Now who sent you letters?’

Chuckling he picked up the leather bag he had been packing and set it down near the door.

‘Does anyone ever tell you, Celebriníel, that you are very inquisitive? And very persistent.’

‘All the time, though Ada calls it nosy... ’ she giggled, dropping onto the bed.

‘Bored, are you?’

She nodded.

‘I wish the rain would stop.’

He looked at her mischievously.

‘Rain does not mean you cannot go outside.’

She rose, her eyes large and enquiring.

‘If you go, no one could say I could not.’

Reaching out to her with his hand, Ereinion smiled.

‘Come on then, but if your braids are beyond saving, I shall not take the blame.’

Together they left the rooms and not much later, could be found in the gardens, loudly calling to each other from opposite parts of the garden, trying to splash through as many puddles of water that could possibly be located.

Those in the house that heard them, shut their eyes with a smile on this occasion.

—~~*~~—

The sound of thunder was not as obvious as it had been, and the rain had steadied somewhat from the downpour of before.

He could sense it, as he sat in the window, straying drops falling on his hands and on the pages of the book that lay open on his knee.

Then a flash of bright light, and the rain once more increased. He tried to determine whether it was truly raining harder, or just a whim of the wind. From there, he contemplated retreating further, in an attempt to flee the drops, which now began to leave small spots on his pages.

But he did not. The wind toyed with some loose strands of hair, and he breathed in, the smell of water and all it wetted prominent.

The rain would make the road wet in the morning, which was perhaps not a good thing, he thought.

And yet, the falling of raindrops, the mere sound of them hitting inanimate objects, soothed him. And he needed to be soothed now.

He was tired, he decided finally. Tired in a peaceful way. Most likely it had been the hot bath he had taken, after the wet adventures of this afternoon.

With a last deep intake of breath, he closed the book and retreated.

Slipping between the covers, he watched it, both the rain and the lightning, for a long time, lying on his side, his head comfortably resting against a pillow, his arm underneath it.

How nice would it be if an arm would simply rest around him now?

With a smile he turned onto his back.

‘Don’t be daft, Ereinion,’ he whispered, clearing his mind.

Still, it took a long time before he finally fell asleep.

—~~*~~—

‘You know, at present, you think this is a change for you alone. But it is a change for us also.’

Ereinion looked up at Elrond, who walked beside him as they made their way through the garden, on their way to the stables. The sun had broken not long ago, and it had been deemed a good time to leave for Tirion.

‘This is your approach to telling me you shall miss me around the house?’

‘I suspect so,’ Elrond smiled.

Nodding, placing his hands behind his back, Ereinion smiled as well.

‘You can always visit, you know. Just two hours away.’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘You two look as if one of you is planning to leave for the outer rim of the world, never to return.’

Celebrían took both their arms, receiving a raised eyebrow from two Elf-lords at once. She smiled. ‘Well, you do.’

‘Not intentional, Celebrían, I assure you,’ Ereinion returned, more serious than normal.

‘You shall be missed, Ereinion, but I expect you shall visit often,’ the Elf-lady replied, softly squeezing his arm.

A modest smile appeared around his lips.

‘I promised your daughter that I would, as often as possible.’

‘And what Celebriníel is promised, she undoubtedly gets,’ Elrond said, gazing into the distance. ‘No doubt we shall attend your installation into the High Council.’ He looked at Ereinion and smiled.

‘Ah yes, the official ceremony to inform everyone I am in bonds until the end of Arda.’ Ereinion said, rolling his eyes with a grimace.

‘Do not be like that,’ Celebrían smiled. ‘I predict you shall enjoy it more than you will ever dare to admit.’

Trying hard to keep his face serious, Ereinion bent his head. Elrond was already laughing.

‘She is right, and you are well aware of it.’

‘We shall see.’

Arriving at the stables, most of the party was already there.

Besides Elrohir and Elernil, Glorfindel too, would be riding with them to Tirion. Though no one brought it up, everyone was well aware of the reason. The Lady Anariel would certainly enjoy his visit.

Ereinion smiled at Mîrlinde.

‘I do apologise... I am taking them away from you again.’

She returned his smile forgivingly.

‘Elrohir and I spoke of whether I would consider coming to Tirion as well. Perhaps I shall,’ she looked up. ‘When the weather clears.’

‘Good idea,’ the High Prince smiled, bowing his head shortly. ‘And Tirion would welcome you with open arms.’

With a grin on his face, and slipping on his gloves, he went on to Erestor.

‘You still do not wish to join us?’ he asked.

The dark-haired Elf-lord smiled.

‘There is no reason for me to go to Tirion now. If you ever achieve to get Elrond there,’ Erestor nodded, before he continued, ‘I shall think upon it. Until then, I wish you good luck, my Lord.’

They caught lower arms for a moment, before Ereinion turned to the youngest member of the house.

Lifting her, he smiled.

‘Visit me?’

Celebriníel slowly nodded, trying to keep her face from showing how close she was to crying.

‘But you promise to come back and visit too?’

‘I do. I’ll try,’ he said, stroking her cheek. Her lower lip trembled. He smiled encouragingly. ‘I promise, do not worry.’

Throwing her arms around his neck, she buried her face against his shoulder.

Slightly uncomfortable, he patted her on the back.

‘Do not cry, meluihên, there is no need, truly.’

As she looked up, her eyes slightly wet, she kissed him on the cheek.

‘Write as well?’

‘Yes, of course.’

Pressing his lips against her forehead, he then lowered her and embraced Celebrían.

‘Take good care of them all,’ he whispered, and felt her nod. As they withdrew, she smiled.

‘You take care of yourself, Ereinion Gil-galad.’

He stared at her for a moment, then caught her hand, shaking it as he nodded.

Catching Elrond’s arms, they both laughingly pulled each other into a close hold.

‘Have we come full circle now?’ Ereinion asked him quietly.

Elrond smiled broadly.

‘If this is the case, does that mean that in another eighty years, I shall be forced to come to Tirion as well?’

‘Perhaps it does, master Peredhil,’ Ereinion grinned, patting the other on the back.

Then he turned and nodded at the others.

‘Ready?’

There came a collective affirmative reply, and mounting, a last goodbye was called to the remaining Elves.

Then the group rode off, into the direction of the main road, which would lead them to that city which was built, long ago, on the hill of Túna.

—~~*~~—

It was as they entered Tirion, with its white walls and terraces, that Glorfindel took leave of his fellow travellers. With a smile they bade him farewell, and as he rode south, the others continued on their way.

Having entered the City from the west, their destination lay in the west as well, and the journey would come to an end soon.

The weather had stayed reasonably well, and even though Anar had never been able to fight its way through the clouds overhead, neither had rain fallen from that same sky.

At the stables, the hands were ready to take over their horses, and Ereinion was first to dismount, first to ascend the stairs and enter the building.

He walked into the empty Halls, softly pulling off his riding gloves by the fingertips.

Standing there alone for a while, he tried to let it sink in.

Then he turned around a little, slapping his gloves against the palm of his hand, the sound echoing against the walls and ceiling.

‘Well, I would not have predicted it, but here I am.’

From outside he could hear voices, and the sound of others, being greeted by his companions.

Somewhere he could distinguish Elrohir laughing, and he nodded to himself, before joining them.

The end of a journey also means the beginning of one...

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epessë: aftername

Hennaid, hiril: Thank you, wife

meleth-nîn: my love

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