High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis

A/N: Special thanks go to kalurien (for tolerating me and my drafts), and Jen (for putting up with my lack of knowledge where it concerns horses), Casey, for showing me that rephrasing is my friend. ;))

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Chapter Eighteen     Flight

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The sun had only barely dawned when the once Lord of Imladris left the house. He had just enjoyed what could be called a small, but very pleasant private breakfast with Celebrían, and now wandered into the direction of the stables, acting on a feeling alone.

But there he found who he had expected, his youngest son occupied with unsaddling his wife’s horse, his grandson busy inspecting one of the hooves of his mount. Elrond smiled.

‘Good morrow to you.’

Happily smiling, Mîrlinde embraced her father-in-law, and Elrohir straightened his back, sporting a broad smile, taking some quick steps to greet his father as well.

‘And good morrow to you, Adar. Even if it is a very early one,’ he nodded.

Studying his son’s face, Elrond seemed pleased.

‘Elladan relayed you were to arrive early. I had hoped to find you here.’

Elrohir’s smile broadened.

Elernil had by now decided that nothing was wrong with the hoof he had been worried about, and neared his grandfather, leaving the horse in the care of one of the many stable hands that were already bustling about in anticipation of what was to take place this afternoon. Grandfather and grandson were almost as tall now, a rather recent occurrence. It was indeed Elrond, Elernil took after.

‘Suilad, Daeradar,’ he said as they caught arms, then embraced.

‘Suilad, Elernil. It is good to see you,’ Elrond returned, identical smiling eyes meeting.

Turning to his son again, Elrond threw him a questioning look.

‘You breakfasted before leaving Tirion, no doubt?’

Offering an arm to Mîrlinde, Elrohir smiled.

‘I do not doubt we can manage a second breakfast.’

As he winked at his son, his wife addressed Elrond.

‘Elladan and Aurehen arrived without encountering any inconvenience while on the road?’

‘Both tired and hungry, I recall, but in good health indeed,’ Elrond replied, ‘I have no doubt you will meet them as soon as we join the others. You can enquire after it yourself.’

‘Naneth is well?’ Elrohir continued almost at once, as the four Elves began making their way up to the house.

‘Very well.’

‘Briníel?’

Elrond smiled unmistakably, bowing his head as if there was some inward chuckle he wished to hide from view.

‘I do not believe I have ever seen her more content than at present. In hindsight, allowing her to go with your grandparents was a good decision.’

‘Yes,’ Elrohir grinned. ‘Though I recall you were not extremely pleased at the time.’

‘Hmm,’ Elrond began his reply, but the appearance of both Aurehen and Celebrían seemed to impede any further discussion of the subject. Mîrlinde left Elrohir’s side to join the other two ladies, the three of them commencing in muted conversation at once, as a hand was placed on Aurehen’s protruding belly. Celebrían left the two and came to embrace her son and grandson, exchanging cheerful greetings and unnecessary enquiries after well-being.

Finally she took Elrond’s arm, waiting a moment before Mîrlinde caught Aurehen’s arm and smiled, all of them moving towards the place where the collective breakfast was to be held.

Hands behind their backs, Elrohir and Elernil made up the rear. Upon entering the hall, Elernil nodded a greeting into Ereinion’s direction, but the High Prince appeared too caught up in a conversation with Gildor to notice, standing near one of the other entrances to the hall.

His entire expression was emotionless, almost cold, causing Elernil to wonder if this was an appropriate moment to approach. Elrohir caught his son’s elbow, observing too and raising a subsequent eyebrow.

‘Do we go together?’

‘It might be safer.’

Glancing at his son, Elrohir adopted the same teasing twinkle that could be found in Elernil’s eyes. Together they walked towards the two Elves rather than into the direction of the breakfast table.

His gaze secured on Gildor’s boot as they stood shoulder to shoulder, voices soft, Ereinion seemed to be listening carefully, hands behind his back. Gildor observed him intently, pausing a moment.

‘You know there are some who continue to claim this.’

Still gazing down, the High Prince sounded contemplative, yet there was a trace of irritation in his voice when he replied.

‘I do not enjoy being called my family’s offspring in political terms. I think I am speaking truthfully when I say I support what I think is best, and because the other High Princes do so as well, we often arrive at the same conclusions. I have no wish to stand opposite them merely to prove I am not a puppet.’

‘Still, until you do stand against them, is it not so that yours remains the lesser voice supporting a grander opinion?’

A scrutinizing gaze met Gildor’s.

‘I do not appreciate that.’

‘Be that as it may...’

Ereinion raised a hand and stopped the Elf-lord from continuing.

‘If it happens, it will happen. Until it does, though, I do not wish to continue any such dialogue.’

Gildor nodded, and they both looked up to find Elrohir and Elernil nearing.

Not having much difficulty gathering a smile, Ereinion nodded.

‘Just in time for breakfast, I see? I should have known.’

With a swift movement he turned both Elrohir and Elernil to face the table and motioned them towards it, immediately immersing himself in polite but meaningless conversation.

Father and son threw each other an amused look, but allowed themselves to be guided towards what promised to be a very nice addition to what was already in their stomachs. As Ereinion made certain they were seated, it was his own elbow that was touched upon. Turning, he found Celebriníel, who smiled timidly at him.

Her eyes darted towards Arinmîr entering, the young Elf no doubt having been intentionally distracted in order to prevent him from arriving at the breakfast table early.

‘Ah yes,’ the High Prince nodded. ‘And?’

He was aware of pretending to be particularly dense, but argued it was for his own sake.

‘Please?’ she pleaded quietly.

For a moment he hesitated, then judged the distance Arinmîr still had to go, and sighed overdramatically, before offering his arm.

‘Last time.’

Celebriníel took it with what he thought was a slight jump.

As he raised an eyebrow, she looked at him, her expression radiantly pleased.

‘Thank you.’

Nodding thoughtfully, he guided her towards two empty seats and waited for her to settle down before taking the unoccupied chair beside her. Arinmîr lay claim on a chair opposite theirs.

Nearly everyone had arrived by now, leaving only two places visibly empty.

It was then that Glorfindel entered hurriedly, Erestor not a step behind him. Ereinion had noticed them darting about the house earlier, when he had been seated upstairs in the library.

Even before seating himself, Glorfindel pointed a finger at him.

‘You, twelve rings, noon?’

A general chuckle rose from around the table and Ereinion sat back with a broad smile on his face.

‘If I did not know any better, I would think you were making me a very dishonourable proposition.’

Ignoring the undertone of the remark, Glorfindel made a note and sat down. Erestor had taken the last empty seat.

Letting her gaze wander over the faces of the guests at the table, Celebrían ascertained all was ready and smiled her approval.

‘Galu erin i bast.’

The blessing was repeated around the table, and breakfast commenced.

Celebriníel’s thankfulness seemed to display itself in her supplying Ereinion with some of the more exceptional delicacies that could be found on the table. She did not seem to think the action particularly unusual, and further occupied herself with assembling her own breakfast.

From across the table, Ereinion received something which almost resembled a glare from Arinmîr.

Greatly amused, he bent towards Celebriníel.

‘Your friend is not very pleased I am in his seat.’

Looking up, Celebriníel shook her head, ignoring any gazes of another nature sent to her.

‘It is not exactly his seat, and he is not exactly my friend.’

‘Ah,’ Ereinion nodded, returning his attention to the plate in front of him again. ‘Do forgive my ignorance.’

‘Do not jest about it,’ Celebriníel returned softly. ‘It is not amusing.’

‘Of course not.’

Glancing up to see if he was laughing at her, she smiled when finding his attention mainly on his plate.

‘Tell me about this afternoon.’

Chewing thoughtfully, he shook his head.

‘What is there to tell? Horse, spear, rings.’

‘You enjoy it?’

‘When I am given the chance, certainly.’

‘Can I accompany you?’

Studying her face to see if she truly meant it, he finally gave in.

‘If you wish.’

Giving him an affirmative nod, Celebriníel returned to the breakfast as well, and the rest of the meal was spent in amiable silence.

—~~*~~—

Slightly squinting due to Anar’s bright beams, Ereinion oversaw the field before him, observing some last spectators huddled together near the fence. A touch on his arm caused him to bring his reverie to an end and he smiled.

‘All set?’

Celebriníel nodded.

‘Indeed.’

Jointly they continued onwards, into the direction of the makeshift stables, a privilege he had just defended vigorously, and at last attained.

Understandably, the supervising marshals and mediators were reluctant to allow mere onlookers too close to the horses and sports ground, but for the youngest lady of the house, Ereinion would have expected them to make an exception. Especially since half of the family was wandering around here already.

Evidently he had been mistaken, but that had not withheld him from insisting. Which had made all the difference, he thought with a silent chuckle. For here they walked.

Elladan stood a little removed, speaking to Elrohir about the condition of the grounds. Greeting them with a short nod, Ereinion and Celebriníel went on towards the box where a bay horse stood waiting patiently. Ereinion had called the stallion his own for some years now, a gift from his father.

Leaving Celebriníel for a moment, Ereinion approached the animal from the left front side and smiled.

‘Hullo, Airavar,’ he whispered, patting the animal tenderly on the shoulder. ‘How about it?’

Shaking his mane, the stallion pushed his nose against the Elf-lord’s shoulder, causing him to chuckle, and scratch the animal behind the ears.

‘Ah good, my friend, very good.’ Nodding a thanks at the attendant who had seen to the horse and its tack, he took Airavar by the rein. Keeping beside the horse’s left shoulder, still whispering softly, he returned to Celebriníel.

‘Quite stunning,’ she smiled, stepping closer and reaching up to gently rub the animals withers.

‘Indeed,’ Ereinion nodded, observing the shine on the horse’s coat caused by Anar’s rays.

With a grin the silver-haired lady looked at him.

‘Explain to me the rules of entering the field, please.’

Ereinion looked at her for a moment.

‘I should think your father explained those rules to you long ago already?’

Celebriníel kept her eyes locked with his.

‘I am certain you can explain again...’

Taking her hand, for a reason he himself was not able to explain afterwards, he placed it on the horse’s forehead, keeping his own placed on top of it.

‘Always listen to the marshal and his aids,’ he nodded into the direction of a dark-haired elf, clothed in a very dark blue, who still eyed them occasionally with an unmistakable irritation in his gaze. ‘They should never get an argument from a player or spectator concerning their business.’

Celebriníel smiled playfully, and Ereinion realised she had just lured him into the exact position where she had wanted him. Had he not just done exactly that which he forbad her now?

‘Except when his Lordship, the High Prince, says so?’ she commented teasingly.

He could not help but laugh, the look in her eyes made it obligatory.

‘Let me say it is rarely necessary for me to involve myself in such matters.’

Barely able to keep her face from crinkling into a smile, Celebriníel gratefully took the arm she was offered.

Gazing across the field while walking, she smiled, pointing at the T-shaped posts.

‘Glorfindel made it sound like twelve rings are an exception. How many rings do you generally play with?’

‘Eight or ten,’ he answered, keeping half an eye on Airavar, ‘But Glorfindel knows how to challenge a person.’

She nodded, not able to keep from laughing.

‘True, in so many ways.’ A pause followed, the greater part of her amusement subsiding before she continued. ‘Well, will you win?’

Ereinion chuckled, mainly because he had no idea what else to do.

‘Such trust you have in me...’

Celebriníel patted his arm.

‘I trust you, do not doubt that, but I have never seen you ride in a contest before.’

Trying to look offended, Ereinion narrowed his eyes, as if he needed to study the grounds further.

‘Will you at least cheer for me?’

As they halted, Celebriníel grinned up at him.

‘Shall there be anybody in the crowd who would dare not to, my Lord?’

With a smile Ereinion allowed her to release his arm; he was expected to mount soon. He shook his head shortly, a small light in his eyes when he addressed her again.

‘I do not particularly care about anyone else and who they cheer for.’

Celebriníel gave him a nod and for a moment both seemed to hesitate.

‘A kiss for good luck?’

Placing a hand on Ereinion’s arm, she pressed her lips against his cheek and quickly turned, walking over to her brothers, who would no doubt look over her from there.

Did she blush? Ereinion wondered with an amused smile, placing his foot in the stirrup and swiftly throwing a leg across Airavar’s back. Casting a look into her direction he received another radiant smile. She blushed.

As a signal was given, he was forced to relinquish the stream of thought, and a spear was handed up to him. There followed a short interval in which horse and rider were given a moment to see to any last preparations.

By the time the next signal was given, Ereinion spurred the horse straight away, Airavar sensing exactly what it was his master wished him to do.

Nearing the post in a gallop, the Elf-lord attempted to regulate his breath, much more self-conscious than usual, trying to concentrate on the six rings that hung glistening in the sun.

He had done this many times before, had practiced it from a very early age on, but twelve rings were twelve rings and not even he could be absolutely certain if he was able to...

Sounds of praise and approval came from the general direction of the on-looking crowd, as one of the judges threw up his hands in an enthusiastic manner.

Switching the spear from its horizontal position to a safer vertical one, Ereinion felt the circular metal bands slide down. The sizes of the six rings varied, but he swiftly recognised the smallest one, last to reach its resting place against his hand, accompanied by a small tinkle as it hit the other rings already resting there.

With a small smile the High Prince handed down the rings to a waiting attendant, who offered a supportive nod.

Only a little encouragement was needed to get Airavar to accelerate again, and they approached the other side of the post in pressing silence. Or perhaps it only appeared to be extremely quiet.

Whichever was the case, it unbalanced the Elf-lord, some vague memory of an identical lack of sound making him lose concentration. Reminding himself he had to raise the lance, he knew, even before bringing it up entirely, that he had missed at least two of the rings. That short moment of indecisiveness, lasting only a split second, had caused him to fall short. The experience of wielding a weapon two life-times had not helped him today.

Passing the post, his eyes locked on the referee and indeed observed the Elf indicate that two rings remained.

‘Blast,’ he heard himself curse, allowing Airavar to considerably slow his fast pace to a trot, before coming to a standstill. He waited for someone to collect the four rings he had been able to secure, and then handed down the spear to one of the squires appointed to him.

Finally dismounting, on the opposite side of the field from where he had set off, he handed Airavar away as well. Elrond’s Master of Stables, who stood by to oversee the goings-on, gave him a raised eyebrow.

‘Be quiet, Rumhir,’ Ereinion mumbled, knowing all too well that he had not been the only one to notice his hesitation.

The Elf, who he recalled knowing a long time ago, nodded, but not without a certain curiosity.

‘Of course, my Lord.’

Walking off a little, much in need of a moment of solitude, he placed his hand on the topmost wooden beam and leapt over the fence, landing in the grass on the other side, where he began taking off his gloves.

What are you doing, Ereinion? he asked himself, angrily pulling at the tips of the leather gloves. What in Mandos’s name are you doing?

Using quite some force, he propelled the items of clothing into the grass and rubbed his forehead.

Concentrating on what had caused him to lose focus, he did not even hear approaching footsteps.

The touch on his elbow almost had him hit Celebriníel in the face, but she was agile enough to expect and avoid it.

‘Peace, lord,’ she mumbled, looking at him. ‘What happened?’

He stared at her a moment, then shook his head.

‘The silence, it unsettled me.’

She frowned.

‘Silence?’

‘Yes.’

‘There was no silence.’

Biting his lip, he continued to look at her, attempting to remember, hoping that somehow he was not on the verge of losing that part of his mind which was required to think clearly.

The impulse to catch her hand and gently press his lips against hers was overwhelming. Desire seemed to surge though his stomach in the same ferocious manner with which sense in turn pounded his brain, causing him to sincerely consider the possibility he had indeed lost the ability to reason logically.

‘Would you...’ he began, halting before he had even noticed.

‘Yes?’ she asked, her hand still in contact with his arm, causing him unease rather than the comfort she no doubt intended.

‘Would you mind leaving me to gather my thoughts for a while?’

Surprised, she stared back, but then released him and retreated a little.

‘Of course.’

All he could do was turn away from her, feeling his breath becoming strained, his head light.

Only when he heard her depart, he did hear it this time, did it abate, did the feeling subside and was he able to gather enough common sense to concentrate again. Moving his hands over his face, he could feel the warmth, and he swallowed audibly.

‘What in Mandos’s name indeed...’

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Standing in the library, he felt his nerves creep up on him again.

‘I am leaving,’ he announced plainly to Elrond, who immediately reacted as Ereinion had expected him to.

‘Why?’

The High Prince looked at him for a moment.

‘Something happened today, while I was out on the grounds, and I... I cannot tell you what. But I would rather return to Tirion and consider it there.’

Impatiently he placed his arms behind his back and turned, walking over to the window.

Elrond studied the other Elf-lord, trying to discover some explanation for this apparent wish to depart.

‘You do not necessarily have to leave, Ereinion. I am certain it could be arranged for you to be left to your own devices. Some days of self reflection, if you will.’

‘No,’ the other replied resolutely. His grey eyes met Elrond’s, before looking away again. ‘I cannot stay.’ He sighed. ‘Nothing is the matter, really,’ he added matter-of-factly. ‘I shall be leaving in an hour or so.’

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With quick steps, the Elf-lady descended the stairs, pulling up the hem of her dress as she made her way into the High Prince’s garden. He was sure to be here, since she did not question the source which had informed her of his return, and she had looked everywhere else.

But it was late, and she could not stay here long.

After hastily searching the dense garden of leafage and colour, she shook her head. If he did not wish to be found, her actions were worth little. Nothing at all, even. It had been the same a long time ago, in another life, but it had not changed.

Then again, she had not known him at this age. The rift had already been there, an estrangement they had brought upon themselves, the three of them.

With a sigh Alian turned, only to be confronted with exactly the person she had been in search of. ­

Half-concealed by shadows, Ereinion stood silently, head bowed. He appeared to still be wearing his travel clothing.

Uncertain if he had even noticed her, Alian silently observed him, waiting for some sign of acknowledgement. When he finally did raise his head, she smiled and made to near him, meaning to enquire if he was well.

Taking the hand she offered, there seemed something in his eyes she thought to recognise.

‘My Lord...’ she spoke softly, a short nod of the head accompanying her words.

‘How are you, lady?’ he replied, nothing in his voice revealing anything.

Looking at him intently, she shook her head.

‘Amazed, I believe. Was it not your intention to return to Tirion at a much later date?’

There was nothing on his face but a feigned grin, the expression in his eyes unchanged.

‘Responsibility calls vehemently.’

‘You speak in riddles, Ereinion. Half-truths.’

Raising an eyebrow at her less then formal address, he looked away.

‘Do I?’

‘Hmm,’ she replied, releasing his hand. ‘And your mother worries.’

There was an immediate change in his bearing, and his gaze returned.

‘I do not think this would concern you.’

Turning towards him again, Alian returned the artificial smile he had given her before.

‘She thought something might have happened. I do not know why she came to me. Perhaps she expected me to know something of it.’

Stepping back into the shadows he chuckled.

‘Why would she think that?’

‘I do not know.’

Catching her hand again, he pulled her along, closer, into the shadows as well. Then, he bent towards her, observing a moment before bringing his lips closer to hers. Before entirely comprehending, they found themselves caught up in a passionate embrace, and while Alian wished to give in, she was well aware she should not and that his actions did not seem... True? She wavered. His lips were almost burning hot, his fingers agile.

‘Ereinion...’ she breathed, finally gathering enough strength to push her hands against his shoulders, forcing him to end the contact. ‘Will pretending I am someone else really help?’

He stared at her, and she feared he would resort to anger, but instead he looked away again and shortly shook his head.

‘No, I... I do not know.’

‘I do not understand,’ she whispered, ‘is there something you wish to accomplish with this?’

Ereinion closed his eyes. He was shocked to hear his voice sounding bitter, almost as if he were the one hurt. As if it had been he who had just been taken advantage of, while knowing all too well it had been the other way around.

‘I know not. I truly know not.’

‘I believe you do, Ereinion, meleth-nîn,’ Alian replied, and he was surprised to hear her sound the words. ‘I believe you are trying to hide from it, pretending you do not know, but you do.’

‘What if I do know, but cannot feel what I wish to feel, cannot voice anything?’

‘Who is she, Ereinion?’

Uncertain, he averted his gaze.

‘I cannot tell you.’

She smiled forgivingly.

‘Then do not tell me. Tell her.’

Shaking his head, his laughter sounded wry.

‘Tell her I love her? While there are oceans of time that cannot be shared prowling between us?’

There followed a moment of silence, in which Ereinion seemed to regret his words, and Alian tried to formulate an answer.

‘You know what happened last time you did not speak what was in your heart,’ she whispered at last. ‘Realise that, for your own sake.’

Breathing in deeply, he finally met her eyes.

‘Forgive me, lady.’

Stepping back, she moved past him, halting a moment, before continuing further, away.

‘I did that a long time ago already, Ereinion Gil-galad.’

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Galu erin i bast: Blessings on this meal/bread

Airavar: ‘aira’ means red in Quenya, ‘varne’ brown

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