Chapter Text
Standing outside by the entrance of the art studio, Elrond let gaze swept anxiously across the lush expanse of the garden surrounding it.
Amidst the lush foliage and under the cover of trees and bridges, realistic sculptures stood scattered seemingly at random, giving off an illusion of animated figures. Elrond, with just a fleeting glance, could almost believe he witnessed two of them in motion. With their painted red hair, the marble statues seemed to sway gracefully as they peeked out from behind the tree, adding an eerie, lifelike quality to the scene, as they were hidden from sight by the bushes covering them in the wind.
As Elrond had strolled through the vast garden of the manor, he had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he nearly collided with a statue, causing him to let out an unintentional yelp. Standing before him was the figure of Makalaurë, but with a notable wear - the once shining black hair of the statue had lost it´s color, leaving only splatters of matt black dots on it, his skin and garments had paled, revealing the marble beneath, and subtle fissures adorned his form.
"Are you certain you want to talk with her?" Arafinwë asked, observing the tension in Elrond´s demeanor.
Glancing rapidly towards the elder Eldar, Elrond gave an abrupt nod in agreement.
Softly expressed his decision with a quiet affirmation of "yes, of course. It's exactly what I desired," followed by a murmured acknowledgment, "it's the restitution due to me by her. It also encompasses the debt I owe her."
Arafinwë responded with a raised eyebrow and a quiet chuckle, amused by the stern look directed at him by the Peredhel, "the debt she has towards you?" he questioned, emphasizing the point with a rhetorical repetition, "what exactly does she owe you?”
"She has been deliberately evading me," Elrond expressed emotionless as he concluded with a single nod. He then proceeded to follow Arafinwë's guidance, stepping towards the door and gradually pushing it ajar. To his surprise, he was confronted by a barrier of thick dark red fabrics that was forcefully thrust towards him by the gust of wind coming from the before closed door.
"Upon reflection, I realize I neglected to mention that she has a habit of drawing curtains across all her windows and doors whenever a specific guest arrives."
Elrond remarked softly, amidst the swish of fabric and swirling dust that greeted him, "it appears to me as though she is orchestrating a crime of grave consequence," he murmured to the smirking Noldóran.
As he pushed aside the thick curtains and stepped into the room, a cloud of dust enveloped him, accompanied by the sharp clinking of metal striking stone. However, amid the dusty haze was an unexpected brightness filtering through a skylight above, in addition to the vast windows left ajar along one wall, allowing sunlight to flood the space. The moment he turned around after parting the heavy drapes, he found himself immersed in a whirl of dust particles that danced in the sunlight entering through both the ceiling window and the generously open windows along the wall, creating a picturesque scene with the background sound of sculpture tools meeting marble.
In every direction stood a multitude of statues, of marble or limestone, each depicting a different subject – be it objects, individuals, or animals – all presented in diverse conditions. While some statues appeared completed, lacking the luster seen in those displayed in the manor or garden, others remained unfinished, resembling mere blocks of solid, cold stone. Some were painted, some were plain, and some had even gemstones cut into them.
The painted ceiling featured additional curtains cascading downwards, effectively creating the illusion of walls. The intricate design of the curtains blended seamlessly with the ceiling.
"This way," Arafinwë gestured, guiding Elrond through the intricate labyrinth of statues, boulders, scattered tools, and even a few casually strewn books. Arafinwë´s words echoed through the air as he led Elrond along the winding path, pointing out various people the statues depicted.
In the depths of a hidden nook, shielded by a thick curtain of stone, the resonating sounds echoed more intensely. Within this secluded space, a woman was engrossed in the art of sculpting, her deft hands working on a piece of limestone perched on a sturdy wooden table. As she delicately chiseled away, fragments of stone and fine dust cascaded down around her. Her lustrous crimson curls, elegantly pinned up in a graceful bun, gradually unraveled, cascading down her shoulders. The loose tendrils of her hair intertwined with the wisps of her pristine white top and the flowing, dark brown fabric of her loose fitting trousers.
In the adjacent nook, an additional Eldar was visibly present, characterized by lustrous, dark, sleek hair veiling a major portion of the Eldar´s face. The attire, composed of heavy fabrics in shades of wine purple and black, enveloped the figure, prompting Elrond to ponder about the potential discomfort due to overheating that the elf might be experiencing. A set of hands, now motionless in acknowledgment of their arrival, had been earnestly engrossed in embroidering a scarlet under tunic.
"Heri Nerdanel," Arafinwë greeted her with a bright smile, warmly gesturing with his outstretched arm as he moved closer to the striking woman with captivating green eyes, who had suddenly turned around, clearly taken aback by their unexpected presence, "Nésa."
As she glanced up with a raised eyebrow, she responded, "I assumed you were the staff tasked with serving the tea," her displeasure at the interruption evident in her strict tone.
Arafinwë proceeded without concern for the frosty reception, introducing Elrond with ease, "allow me to present Elrond Peredhel, who may be familiar with your two eldest."
The woman furrowed her brows and swiftly shifted her gaze towards the other Eldar in the corner, who had resumed his embroidery, but in a rigid manner, as if completely engrossed in listening, "yes. I have been told," she spoke before redirecting her attention back to the group, raising her hammer above her head. "should any of you utter a single disrespectful word against any of my Sén, be prepared to endure a barrage of stones aimed at thy heads!"
Elrond began with a hint of surprise in his usually calm voice, which momentarily cracked as he started to speak; “Herinya-”, only to be abruptly cut off by another door swinging open, different from the one they had just entered. A servant from the manor appeared before them, swiftly bowing before conveying, “Herinya, everything is prepared and awaiting your presence in the pavilion."
“That! Would be our tea," she remarked with a frigid stare, "Onya, are you still interested in having tea? And would it be inconvenient for you if our visitors were to join us? They seem quite eager to discuss something they find significant. If you prefer, I can ask them to return later and have a private conversation with me if the current situation feels overwhelming."
Both Arafinwë and Elrond shifted their gazes in unison towards the lone Eldar positioned in the corner. Elrond's expression denoted genuine surprise, whereas Arafinwë's face bore a subtle smile in response to the acknowledgment. The Eldar in question inclined their head slightly, causing a gentle rustle in their veil of hair, revealing a neatly arranged half bun at the nape of their neck. This bun deftly held back a surprisingly abundant volume of hair, which would have otherwise obscured their face that was already veiled enough by what was loose.
“Thank you Moryo, we won't be long. We came with happy news but wanted to deliver them ourselves so as not to obtain a lot of unnecessary attention,” Arafinwë reassured.
Huffing, the Eldar rose swiftly and approached Nerdanel with a sense of urgency, grasping her outstretched hand firmly while lifting himself to his full height, casting a piercing glare at those around him with icy, mithril hued eyes. This display of intensity was so much as Maedhros that Elrond shuddered.
Elrond speculated that 'Moryo' was likely an abbreviation for Morifinwë, indicating his encounter with the elusive fourth son of Feanor, Caranthir the dark, was coming.
Studying the scowling face Elrond thought that the name given to the Eldar was more befitting than he had previously thought. The severe furrowed brows and downturned mouth gave him an appearance of snarling, accentuated by the sharp, hooded eyes that seemed to glare fiercely. Adding to this was a distinctive red birthmark that stretched across the left side of his face, encompassing his left ear adorned with large, weighty golden earrings matching those on his right ear, with the exception of the birthmark.
Both of the Eldar´s, Nerdanel and Caranthir, appeared to have consciously shunned the traditional Noldorin braids, albeit their reasons differed from what Elrond had been told. While Nerdanel's decision seemed to align with her current pursuits, the rationale behind Caranthir's choice remained subtle. This departure from tradition stood out particularly for Caranthir, as both Maglor and Erestor, who notably regarded him as an Eldar of traditional practices, had always associated him with the customary Noldorin braids.
“Have all your brothers returned yet?” Arafinwë asked as they settled at the arranged table placed in the outdoor pavilion adjacent to the art studio. It was a moment of relaxation and reflection, surrounded by the serene atmosphere of creativity.
Carnistir responded with a short and concise, "no," as he reached for a biscuit, taking a deliberate bite before replying thoughtfully and with a hint of difficulty.
“Turca has joined Oromë´s hunt again, although he seems to live more in solidarity now than before, and at times the Ambarussa joins him,” Nerdanel explained, “Nelyo is on his way to the halls, with him surly ill be Finno, where he will ask for Kana, wherever he has been hiding.”
"Ahr..." murmured Aranfiwë as a faint crease formed on his brow, and he swiftly shifted his gaze to Elrond, who in turn fixed him with a meaningful stare before responding, “yes, of course.”
“Herinya, you might want to know that both Maedhro- Maitimo and Makalaurë were like- they raised me and my brother, and I love them dearly, and so did my brother, and it was a great pain to me when Maitimo decided to leave for Mandos. Know he needed the peace-” Elrond started to say but held a pause to draw breath from the dramatic lift of the lady's red brow lifting.
"After Maitimo departed, Makalaurë found himself engulfed in his own sense of hopelessness, aimlessly roaming the remaining shores of what land was left," his gaze fell upon Carnistir, who had snorted at his mention of Kanafinwë's anguish, "-after enduring numerous years of torment, I eventually found him by the shores."
In a quiet manner, the two Eldar in front of Elrond, next to the youngest son of Finwe, gazing at them with a lack of emotion.
“Then has he entered Mandos now?” Nerdanel asked coldly, with a slight shake hidden under her stiff shoulders.
"No," Elrond quietly murmured, his gaze fixed on the untouched cup of tea that had been placed in front of him, expressing his apprehension, "I have concerns that if he ventures inside, he may never come back, and it might not provide the peace he requires... at times, I must admit, my self interest prevails, particularly when it concerns my fathers."
"So, where is my Hanno?" Carnistir questioned in a low, menacing tone, filled with a hint of betrayal, “does he resent my choice so much?”
“Your choice-?” Elrond halted.
“No! Of course not Moryo! Kanafinwë is merely not feeling well at the moment. He is a bit tired from the travel over Ulmo´s realm, he has already apologized to your Hína I have let myself be told,” Arafinwë swiftly intervened. However, Carnistir's response was only a grunt, indicating his skepticism towards Arafinwë, “told? He might as well have spread a rumor!”
“I tell you, he has not the mind to do that now,” Arafinwë sharply replied, “and your yón has returned with him, and I have been told, from him, that he wishes to know if you wish to visit him, or if you will rather he visit you?”
"Yón?" Elrond asked, his expression betraying a sense of bewilderment, yet his words went unheard, or unanswered at least.
“Where does he live?” Nerdanel asked, “my doors are always open for him, for long have I waited to meet him from all the stories I have been told of my second Indyo, and I have heard Tyelpë speak of him as if he were two! I heard he was the High King´s Herald for a time, and chief of a household.”
Happily gazing at Carnistir, she noticed a look of bewilderment reflected on his face as he returned it back to her.
Arafinwë chuckled softly before saying, "oh, that was-"
“That was me,” Elrond stated.
With a frown and a confused smile, Nerdanel leaned closer, “no…? Are your parents not Eärendil and Elwing, and my sons merely your kidnappers and caregivers for a few years? The situation must have been hard on you and your brother?”
“I see them as my fathers, just as much as Eärendil,” Elrond replayed, now too with a frown, had the lady not known that? “If with a hard start. And a bit different I guess.”
“Makalaurë later went as far as to adopt Elrond and his brother, and Maedhros, Maitimo, of course, had no choice but to follow, though I do not think he minded much. Although it seems not many know or accept it. I had wondered why you had not come running but it seems no one did tell you, Verressë.”
“I... I did not know, Maitimo did mention...” Nerdanel said with a surprised look on her face slowly turning into a wide smile. Beside her, Carnistir looked empty at them with an open mouth, as if he had been ready to say something, “then you too are welcome here!” Nerdanel exclaimed happily grabbing for Elrond´s hands over the table, showing pastries and small biscuits out of her way, “whenever you want!”
“Thank you Herinya, you are-” Elrond started surprised at the sudden change of mood of the lady in front of him.
"Please, call me Haruni," she uttered, her lips curving into a subtle smile that caused the corners of her eyes to crease delicately.
Elrond responded with badly hidden surprise and wonder, "certainly, Haruni, I am sincerely grateful and honored."
Smiling Nerdanel schussed his hands, “you are family. Now! Do you have any ideas where your Rendolë can be found?”
Elrond hesitated momentarily before speaking a firm, "no," visibly flinching as Carnistir attempted to rise from his seat, only to be swiftly restrained by his mother who gently guided him back to his place.
“Amil!” he hissed in a low voice. “His name would be Carnësén Móriattëfinwe?” Nerdanel informed.
“No, I´m sorry Heriny- Haruni, although I would love too to meet… my… Rendo…”
“Of course! He arrived with Elrond as I said, although he calls himself Erestor nowadays,” Arafinwë, yet again, cut in.