Chapter Text
“How long have Herald Elrond and the Lady Galadriel been betrothed?” - asked Arondir the elf sitting beside him. Vorohil suddenly grew very pale and spit out the last small mouthful of wine he was about to enjoy in peace.
It was one of those achingly beautiful, calm, late summer sunsets, which are warm and paint the leaves of the oaks and beeches golden but already carry the promise of the chill of autumn. In the distance, the peaks of the Misty Mountains and the upper boulders and the jagged rocks of the gorge of the Bruinen were still bathing in the flaming light of the sun, but the rest of the east was already falling to the bluish velvet of the approaching night. A couple of robins were singing their last melodies of the day and the starlings were mimicking eerily accurately the sounds of elven speech coming from the sheltered nooks of the valley. Tents and a few log buildings were scattered close to the banks of the river on the bottom of the gorge and those elves who hadn’t retired to their tents yet were sitting next to the small fires, singing quietly or talking in muted tones. It has only been a few weeks since the host of the Eregion elves arrived at the hidden refuge of Imladris. Hundreds of weary, shaken ellyn, who lost their home, their leader, friends, and family. The feeling of loss and devastation was still raw within them. And yet, one could not resist the quiet hope that permeated even the air in this place. Was it the valley itself or the enchantments placed on it by the keepers of the elven rings? No one knew for certain, but no one paid heed to it particularly. It was like a soothing balm, a gentle breeze to make them forget the horrors of war they had to endure. They settled into a predictable and somewhat comfortable routine. They needed shelter, food, and stocks, and they could only use the meager supplies they brought with them when they fled their destroyed city. The pursuit seemed endless and taxing, yet it gave them a goal of waking up every day and carrying out their duties. And in the evenings they rested and sang laments and hymns about the heroes of the lost siege.
The two elves sitting next to the campfire wore simple, comfortable, unadorned clothes. One of them had a bow lying next to him; the other had a knife fit securely to his boot and a sword on his side. They were assigned the first patrol shift of the night, but it was still some time away, and since they have grown close to each other after they left Ost-in-Edhil, they decided to share the evening meal before their service. Several other fires with small groups of elves gathered around them were set only a few yards away.
“What makes you ask that?” - said Vorohil when he finally managed to find his voice after a very inelegant coughing fit. His face was not pale any more, the coughing having brought a blush to his cheeks. His eyes had a mixture of surprise and embarrassment in them.
“Forgive me; I did not mean disrespect. I am aware that you have known the Peredhel even before the battle and was under the impression that you consider him a friend. Naturally, I thought that you share in his joy of the recovery of Lady Galadriel.” - said the Silvan elf softly. Over the course of these past weeks, Vorohil got to know Arondir as a deeply caring and empathic being, and he also caught glimpses of sadness and grief behind his eyes, which he suspected had little to do with the events that unfolded in Eregion. But he was patient enough to wait until Arondir was ready to share whatever happened with him in the Southlands.
“No, no, please, do not apologize.” - he was quick to add. “I was simply taken aback by your question, that is all. Of course, I rejoice that the Lady Galadriel is on the way to recovery… did you see something that gave you the sense that there is more than friendship between her and Elrond?”
“Well… as you know, I was there when we found her after her confrontation with the Dark Lord. The Peredhel had such anguish in his eyes, so much agony…”
“They have been the closest friends for centuries now, almost like family… he must have been terrified to lose her like this.” - tried to reason the red-haired elf.
“Without a doubt… but I thought I saw… something else in his eyes. Something that I only felt once. Something that you only feel if your soul has been bound to another and you are about to lose her.” - added the Silvan ellon with grief in his eyes. Vorohil looked at him thoughtfully, then slowly raised his hand and grasped his friend’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Arondir inclined his head slightly, a grateful expression in his eyes.
“Then he did not leave her side throughout the entire journey. Surely he did his duties, but he was never far from her stretcher. And the way he leapt up and rushed to her side right away when he heard that she regained consciousness. The relief I saw in him when he held her hands! And her eyes, her whole being lit up when she looked at him. I saw such a look once. It was reflected back to me from the eyes of someone who I cherished above all else.” - said the dark-skinned elf with a mournful expression in his eye and hung his head for a moment. “Maybe you are right...” - he said eventually with a small smile. “Perhaps the Commander was purely concerned about her as a dear friend.”
“Well -“ started off Vorohil and scratched his head a little bit. “ Uh… I mean, I have to say, now that you mention it…”
“What is it?” - asked Arondir with a puzzled look on his face. He did not come to know Vorohil as a stutterer and was intrigued by his unusual demeanor ever since he brought up the subject of Elrond and Galadriel.
“It really is probably nothing…” - started off the red-haired Lindonite, then stopped again, and a slight blush colored his cheeks again. Arondir began to think that his friend had a tendency to get flustered easily, and for some reason the thought amused him immensely.
“Come on… out with it!” - he said with a half smile on his face. He wouldn’t have admitted to anyone but was getting increasingly fascinated by the complicated relationship between their two leaders.
“Fine, fine.” - said Vorohil with a small chuckle and shaked his head a little bit, almost as if he couldn’t conceive that they were discussing this topic. “He kissed her.”
“What!?” - blurted out Arondir a bit louder than either of them expected. The red-haired ellon made a shushing sound and glanced around nervously. The wee group of elves sitting close to them on the left didn’t seem to pay attention to their discussion. A small elleth, no more than five years or so, smiled back at him when their eyes met.
“It was an emotionally heightened moment…” - he turned his attention back to Arondir in a hushed voice. “We were in the enemy camp, and Adar gave him an ultimatum: either give him her ring or doom her to die. I could see the conflict in him. But he knew that no matter what, he could not risk the ring getting into the wrong hands. So he asked Adar to let him say farewell to her. And then he kissed her.”
“When you say kiss, do you mean like a friendly kiss on the cheek or a hasty peck on the lips?” - asked the Silvan elf with unconcealed curiosity.
“Erm… nah… not really. It was a proper kiss. You know… with a caress of her face, a lingering gaze, and touching of the foreheads included.” - the Lindonite scrunched his eyebrows and poked the fire with a piece of wood.
Arondir made a small whistling sound, and a cheeky smile crossed his face. “I knew it!” - he said triumphantly.
“It was an emotionally heightened moment! He must have thought that this is the last time he is going to see her!” - repeated Vorohil, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. “We were surrounded by the enemy, he needed to do something as shocking as that to disarm them and pass the lockpick to her and give her the chance to escape. It's was a good ploy on Elrond's part!” - he added.
“Sure thing… “ - said Arondir with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Because there was no other way of creating a distraction, right?” - he added smugly.
“It was a life-and-death situation for all of us! Perhaps we just impose our interpretation of what a kiss means to them!” - exclaimed the redhead even less convincingly than before.
“I’m not sure about you, but I have only one interpretation of a ‘proper’ kiss, which comes with a face caress and a lingering gaze.” - laughed Arondir.
Vorohil put up his hands in defeat, and first a grin appeared on his face, then he burst into laughter as well. “Alright, alright. I have to confess there was an odd tension between them even before. I thought they were going to jump at each other’s throats on our way to Eregion.” - he added.
“According to what you just told me, they probably want to, but in a different way than you originally imagined!” - Arondir could hardly force it out between small fits of laughter.
Vorohil gave him a bewildered look, and his face turned a proper shade of crimson. His expression was of someone who was absolutely certain that they would get into great trouble if any of this conversation ever got out. This made Arondir even more amused, tears running down his face from suppressed merriment. It took him several minutes to calm down, and he was still wiping the tears from his face when Vorohil talked again.
“Anyway, I am sure it is nothing, since the Lady Galadriel has a husband.”
“Oh… I was not aware of that.” - said Arondir with genuine shock in his voice.
“Yes, but Lord Celeborn has been missing for a long time now.” - added the Lindonite. “No one really knows what happened to him.”
“I see.” - said Arondir with a compassionate and faraway look on his face. “Then I am certain that Lady Galadriel is waiting and hoping for his return some day, no matter how difficult it is to bear the burden of the ages alone.”
“She is not truly alone if she has a friend like Commander Elrond at her side.” - reminded him Vorohil.
While they were talking, the darkness fell upon them, and the air became chilly. The embers of their fire were still glowing bright. Many around them were slowly filing to their respective tents. Vorohil drew his cape snugly around himself. Close to them, the small elleth was still sitting with her parents and singing a lovely little melody, looking intently into the flames.
“Let us go and get started.” - offered Vorohil and got up from the ground. His Silvan companion nodded and followed his example, gathering his bow and arrows. They quickly put out the fire and walked along the bank of the river towards one of the newly erected log bridges.
After they left, the young elleth kept looking into the flames with a charmingly focused expression. Several minutes passed before she turned to her mother.
“Emya, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, melda.” - said the elleth with a small smile and drew her youngling closer to her side.
“Why would Eru forbid us to love each other?”
“Whatever makes you ask such a thing, melda? Of course Ilúvatar would never forbid us to love each other if the love is true and requited and there is no malice behind it.” - laughed her mother.
“Then why is it forbidden for Herald Elrond to love the Lady Galadriel?” - asked the girl innocently.
“Where on Arda did you get this from, seldë?” - said her mother with genuine puzzlement.
“Does it matter, emya? Can you please explain to me?” - prodded the child, and the frustrated look on her face gave away that she was still very young not only in appearance but in mind as well.
Her mother deliberated for a few seconds.
“I am sure that the Herald loves the Lady very much. But he cannot take her and love her as his wife.”
“Because she already has a husband.”
“Yes, melda. The bond between husband and wife is sacred and cannot be broken.”
“But her husband has been missing for a long time… maybe he is even dead.” - insisted the youngling.
“Maybe so, but even if he died, his fëa is in the Halls of Mandos, or already reunited with his hröa and he is waiting to meet again with the Lady in Valinor.” - explained his mother patiently.
“Emya, but what if she won’t sail to Valinor for a long time? For millennia? Does she need to be alone all that time?”
“Yes, child.” - affirmed the older elleth and she looked at her husband, who was talking to another elf on the other side of the fire, and one could see a flash of worry mixed with gratitude in her eyes. She quickly sent a silent prayer of thanks to Eru for sparing the life of her husband and leading them safely to this place. She could not even imagine how hard it must be for those who lost their spouses, Lady Galadriel included.
“What if Lord Celeborn does not wish to be re-embodied? As it happened with Queen Míriel of the Noldor?” - her daughter interrupted her musings.
“Still, she must obey the laws of Eru and not take another husband again.” - replied her mother with less conviction in her voice than before. She was truly running out of ideas on how to put an end to these questions. Her daughter paused the inquiries for a few minutes, and she was beginning to think that she got spared by the goodwill of Eru, but the small elleth turned to her again.
“There is so much suffering and pain in the world, emya. I cannot imagine Eru to be so unkind as to forbid any act that would lead to less love to fight against all the evil.” - she said contentedly.
Her mother was about to protest and try to counter her logic by saying that the love between friends can be as strong as the one between lovers, but her husband’s voice saved her from continuing the conversation.
“Off to bed with you, little one!” - he said to her daughter with a kind smile, and offered his hand to help her get off the ground. She quickly got up, grabbed the hand of her father and walked away in the direction of their tent. The older elleth bid farewell to the others around the fire, and while she followed her family, she made a mental note to ask her friend, Artaurë, about the Peredhel and Lady Galadriel. She was an aide to Commander Elrond, she must know something about this. And if there was something going on between those two, she decided that she was happy for them. After all, who was she to judge them? No one deserved to live their long life without the intimacy of another. And surely Eru would not bless Lady Galadriel with the power of Nenya if he did not deem her worthy and honorable.