Chapter Text
PART ONE - the beginning
Bilbo Baggins was a historian. Rather—he had a great love for history, and a great desire to learn all he could in the time he had left on Middle-earth. He had traced back the path he had walked many years ago with Thorin Oakenshield and his Company to reach Rivendell. And it had been worth it—oh, it had been worth it! To see the beauty of the valley once more, to walk over the paths covered with fallen leaves that were turning golden-brown... It was almost like a dream.
Bilbo often took refuge in the libraries of Rivendell, far away from any prying eyes. His only companion was Erestor, who even then often did not show his face and did not speak—but Bilbo did not mind. Any poems he thought of he could tell Lord Elrond over dinner, and otherwise in the Hall of Fire. As of this very moment, he was leafing through a book on the Peredhil, eyes scanning the delicately written words in Westron. Dior the Fair, he read, and Nimloth of Doriath. He had heard of the Kinslayings and the history of the Peredhil before, though Lord Elrond did not speak of it very often. His finger traced the fine line between Dior and Nimloth indicating their marriage, and then down the page to their offspring. There were only two small hand-painted pictures next to the four names appearing: there were Eluréd and Elurín, who did not survive the Sacking of Menegroth (the Second Kinslaying, Bilbo's mind helpfully supplied), twin sons of Doriath and Nimloth and eldest of their children. They had been only six at the time. Bilbo's gut churned.
Their younger daughter Elwing was Lord Elrond's mother. Bilbo had heard stories of her and the Silmaril and the Third Kinslaying, but only from Erestor and other elves he encountered in the Hall of Fire. Lord Elrond did not speak of her, and Bilbo had not yet seen statues or paintings of her in Rivendell. He wondered why.
Next to her name was a small picture depicting a beautiful dark-haired elf maid dressed in white. There was a feather in her hair. Under her name Bilbo read the Westron translation of her name: Star-foam, from the Sindarin el (meaning star) and wing (meaning foam). It also read this: Elwing chose to be counted among the elves.
The last name was almost faded out—Bilbo could barely make out the letters. It read Elgeliniel the Kind and was accompanied by a tiny portrait that was so faded out Bilbo could hardly make out the features of the elf maid who the name belonged to. All he could see was raven hair and what he assumed was her gown. It was as if she had almost been erased from existence. Under her name it read in Sindarin: Lady Elgeliniel refuted her only royal title upon her marriage to High King Gil-galad and is mother to Queen Itarillë Amanya and Prince Andúnë. From the former of the two children another thin line led down the page and under it read, this time in Westron: her name stood in reference to Idril Celebrindal of Gondolin, but she chose a Sindarin name upon her marriage to King Thranduil Oropherion of the Greenwood: Aradhéin. This name had probably been taken from the Sindarin ar(a), which meant noble, and edhelvein, which meant elven fair—or so Bilbo thought, at least.
But his immediate thought went to the Elvenking mentioned beside the young lady's name, and the fact that this Aradhéin's history was written in the past tense, whereas her mothers' was written in the present. Bilbo did not know where to look for the history of Thranduil Oropherion of the Greenwood and resolved himself to ask Lord Elrond later. Then he took one of the other books he had gathered on elvish poetry and settled into his chaise with a content sigh.
Several hours later, Bilbo found out Lord Elrond would not join him for dinner. There had been trouble with orcs at the borders, and Lord Elrond and his sons had taken off at a hurry in the early noon to take care of it. Bilbo had missed the moment entirely, engrossed as he had been in his books. But he was not alone: Erestor and Lord Glorfindel kept him company, and so once he had finished eating (for food came before questions), he turned to them and said, "I read the most peculiar thing today."
"Did you now?" asked Glorfindel, who had already finished eating a while ago. In the darkening of the sky above them, Lord Glorfindel shone faintly like a star.
Bilbo nodded. He swung his feet as he pondered over how to ask his question—the chairs at Rivendell, despite Lord Elrond's trying, were too high for him still. "I wondered," he said, "about Lord Elrond's family. And so I—well... I looked it up." He did not see Glorfindel and Erestor trading glances, as he was looking at his empty plate. "He has an aunt?" Bilbo asked, in the end. It did not seem much like a question—more a hesitant statement.
He had expected Lord Glorfindel to smile, seeing as Lady Elgeliniel was still alive, but the elf did not. Erestor was the one who answered, "Elgeliniel was her name, Master Baggins. She was as fair as the night sky dotted with stars. But Lord Elrond does not like to speak of her, or of his family."
"Lord Elrond is not here," Glorfindel replied almost testily. "And though I do not know the full story, I know others who do. My friend—" he rose and put his hand on Erestor's shoulder for a second— “I will find one who is worthy of recounting her tale."
Did Lord Glorfindel not know, or did he simply not wish to tell? Bilbo did not know. There were some things he would never understand about elves.
Erestor said, "He will probably force Lindir to tell it. But Lindir will not mind, and Lord Elrond is indeed not here. We shall see if the tale is to your liking. Come, Master Baggins, I shall show you one of the tapestries of Elrond's line."
Bilbo followed Erestor through the many halls of Rivendell until they entered a wing where he had never been before. Where elsewhere in Rivendell there was song and happiness and light, this corridor was almost desolate and grim. But Erestor did not seem to mind it, and so Bilbo did not either, and they walked until they found a small hall lit with multiple candles. On the walls hung several tapestries, larger even than Erestor himself. Bilbo gaped at the details of the weaving. On one of the tapestries stood a dark-haired elf with an eight-pointed star on his brow, one that looked very similar to the one of Lord Elrond's house.
But Erestor did not take Bilbo to see the other tapestries. Instead, he pushed one of the tapestries to the side, revealing a small wooden door, and opened it. Bilbo entered first, silent. He thought it inappropriate to speak here, for it did not seem like a room where he could say something.
The room behind it was circular, and in the middle of it stood something wooden that Bilbo could not identify. It upheld a tapestry as well, this one smaller than the others. Its outer lines were woven with gold and silver, and it shimmered despite the lack of moonlight. Bilbo was hit with a sudden feeling of heaviness by looking at it, and he could not even identify all the elves on it. There were only four of them. One stood at the side, with dark hair and a face that Bilbo recognised from several history books on the High Kings of the Ñoldor: High King Gil-galad. Bilbo knew him to be dead.
The elf next to him was much shorter in stature. As Erestor behind Bilbo began lighting several candles, Bilbo could make out the soft, childlike features of her face. Next to her stood a boy very similar to her. They must be siblings, at least. The boy was dark-haired; the girl had silver curls, and they were both dressed in garments similar to Lord Elronds'. Beside them, with one hand on the boy's shoulder, stood a tall elf maiden with long raven hair. She was dressed in a gown of a fashion Bilbo did not recognise and carried a dagger on her waist belt. She was undeniably beautiful.
"High King Ereinion Gil-galad and his kin," Erestor intoned from behind him. Bilbo jumped at the sound. He had almost forgotten the elf was there to begin with.
Erestor came closer to stand next to Bilbo and pointed at the dark-haired elf in the corner of the tapestry. Then his hand moved to the children. "These are his children. His daughter, Amanya, and his son, Andúnë."
"They are not Sindarin names, are they?"
"They are Quenya, Master Baggins. We believe their mother chose their names on purpose, to strengthen Lord Elrond's claim of being raised by Maedhros and Maglor. Many others believe it was to appease the Fëanorians, should they come looking for the Silmarils. Amanya means blessed in Quenya, and Andúnë stands for the sunset. They were nicknamed Amandúnë, meaning blessed sunset. They were twins, you see."
Bilbo understood this to be similar to the twins Amrod and Amras of the Fëanárions, who were named Ambarussa.
"Amanya was originally named Itarillë after the elleth who raised her mother, but she resented the name and did not use it. When her father had died and her mother and twin-brother had sailed to Aman, she chose a Sindarin name instead. It must have been mentioned in the books."
"Aradhéin," Bilbo mumbled. Erestor nodded.
"Indeed, Master Baggins. Much of her history is lost, but she wed Thranduil Oropherion after the Last Alliance."
"She's dead?" Bilbo found it hard to believe such a thing. But it was hard to believe anything amounting to a thousand-year-old history when he was looking at a child.
Erestor hummed. "She died many years ago. She and her ladies had been ambushed by orcs just outside the Greenwood when she had been returning from a visit to Imladris. I think her youngest son was not even twenty. Even Lord Elrond could not save her when we found what was left of their party. It was a grievous time for us all. She had been the only thing he had left of his aunt, though they were not very close."
"And her mother?" Bilbo queried.
"I cannot tell you much about her, for it would ruin Lindir's tale tonight," Erestor replied quietly. "But you already know her name. Elgeliniel the Kind. She sailed West just after High King Gil-galad's death."
Bilbo thought that much of the history of Lord Elrond's family was sad. He wondered if this Lady Elgeliniel knew of her daughter's death. He wondered how many times she must have wept. All in all, he was glad to be mortal. He did not think he could live forever with the weight of losing those he loved on his shoulder. It was a large burden to bear.
The Hall of Fire was mostly quiet, for once. It seemed many others in Rivendell had heard of what was to be happening tonight and had settled in for a long tale. Lindir sat in front of the fire, head bowed over his harp. Bilbo took one of the few seats left open that were almost directly in front of the minstrel, folding his hands in his lap. Next to him sat a fair elf maid with long golden hair, who whispered to him, "It is a fair evening, Master Baggins, for storytelling. What do you think?"
Bilbo beamed up at her. "I certainly agree, my lady," he replied. She smiled kindly at him. "I am no lady, Master Baggins, though I thank you for the kind words. My name is Laingwen."
Bilbo bowed in his seat—as far as he could, at least. She chuckled, hiding her broader smile behind her hand. Then Lindir struck his first note, and silence descended on them. Bilbo looked to Lindir, whose face was strangely illuminated by the crackling orange-red flames in the hearth.
"Tonight," said the minstrel, his voice carrying through the hall, "I will tell you one of our older tales." He struck another note, this one sweet and soft. "It is the tale of Elgeliniel the Kind, also called Dínelloth the Radiant. Have caution, my listeners, for this is not a happy tale. It starts, as any story would, long ago in the First Age, when Dior the Fair and Nimloth his wife returned to Doriath with their children."
Lindir struck another note, and with it, Bilbo felt he could suddenly see a young raven-haired maiden dancing in front of the hearth, dressed in a deep blue gown. He knew, with certainty, that he saw Elgeliniel. He felt as if she beckoned him, but he could not move. Lindir sung, then, a lament for Doriath, and Elgeliniel sank to her knees and wept. Beside Bilbo, the golden-haired elf maiden straightened in her seat.
"In Doriath, Elgeliniel was born to Nimloth, and she was not even a year old when the Sons of Fëanor sacked Menegroth and Doriath. Together with her older sister, Elgeliniel was carried out of the city and into the woods, and she was taken to the Havens of Sirion, where she was later raised by Idril Celebrindal..."