The Swan's Song by Kimberleighe

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Chapter Two: Desires of the Heart

Summary: There are many requests made, but not one to finish the tale.

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Chapter Two: Desires of the Heart

 

                Idhreniel paced the hall, feeling the cool tile under her bare feet.  She had contained her anxiety while her brother had sat beside her.  He had clutched her hand silently, obviously concerned for his wife.  When the healer allowed, he had nearly sprinted into the room.  Now, in the silence of the corridor, she could not help her restless motions.  The lamps threw dancing shadows across a peaceful forest mural.  Vines painted themselves from the shadowy corners and erupted in bright bloom splotches on the walls.    

                “I must commit this sight to memory: my calm advisor undone by an unborn babe,” Ereinion commented as he filled the chair that had been Tirnion’s. 

He set her shoes underneath the chair; she had forgotten them in her haste.  She felt his gaze as she continued her to and fro.  When she glanced at him again, he was peacefully reading through a bundle of papers.  Her steps slowed until she finally sank into the chair beside him.  Setting aside his work, he placed his hand, palm up, on her thigh.  Idhreniel curled her fingers with his readily, thankful for his presence. 

                “I am glad you’re here,” she murmured.

                “Always.”  He offered her a brief smile before he returned to his reading.

                The hours slipped past them in silence.  Every so often, he would break the quiet to pose a question about Galheril’s proposal. 

                “It seems sound,” he grudgingly commented.

                “It is.  She could theoretically double the trade traffic through Harlond from the southern seas,” Idhreniel answered absently.  “And she is ambitious enough to see her project through.”

Ereinion leaned his head back against the wall and regarded her silently for a moment.  Nearly nine ennin of working together had leant a certain type of awareness to their communications.

                “How ambitious?”

Idhreniel only had to arch a brow in response for realization to cross his face.  He frowned, but said nothing further. 

                “You might make an effort though, Gil-galad,” she said carefully.  “Her father might appreciate the kindness.”

                “I made it clear I would not play these courting games.”  His tone held a sense of finality.

Idhreniel returned to her careful watch of the door, partially relieved.  As always, she did not allow herself to dwell on her reasons.

                “Did you ever see the day that Tirnion would be a father?”  Idhreniel’s voice was soft as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Ereinion chuckled, sliding an arm around her shoulders to support her head.  In the empty corridor, he could assume such familiarity without fear of comment.

                “I think we both know the answer to that.”  He peered down at her before resuming his former pose.  “Most anticipated that you would have beaten him both to marriage and children.”

This was a familiar conversation.  Every so often, they’d descend into traditional teasing about their lack of a partner. 

                “Well, he may have bested me in both, but I have not yet ruled out the possibility of either.”  Idhreniel closed her eyes, unwilling to watch the door any longer.

                “Good.”  His words were lost in her hair. 

                All the hours of waiting seemed brief when Tirnion exited the room, a bundle awkward in his arms.  Idhreniel sprang to her feet, quickly approaching her brother.

                “My son,” he uttered proudly.

Idhreniel peered over his shoulder and felt herself instantly entranced.

                “Tirnion, he is perfect.”  She touched her fingers to the babe’s soft cheeks.  “How is Ivoreth?”

                “Tired, but well.”  Tirnion silently shifted the infant towards his sister, sensing her unasked desire.

Idhreniel cradled her nephew tenderly.  Already he had stolen her heart away, clutching it in his too-strong tiny fingers.  A little pink mouth stretched wide in a soundless yawn; Idhreniel felt the tiny body stiffen in a stretch before curling back into her arms.  The smile she had attempted to hide spread her lips in delight at the jerky motions.

                “Nana and Ada would have loved this moment, loved him,” Idhreniel murmured, craning her neck down to brush a soft kiss to the babe’s forehead. 

                “He will know them.”  Tirnion placed a hand on her shoulder, unable to take his eyes off his son.  “When he is old enough, I shall show him Ada’s nets and teach him about the sea.  You will enchant his dreams with the stars.  Then, when we are all together again in the West, he will have always known them.”

                When the healer called Tirnion back into the room, Idhreniel drifted towards Ereinion’s chair.  She carefully sat, gaze intent on the newborn to be sure her motions did not jar him to wakefulness.  Only once did she look at the King.  He took that as his cue to lean closer, a finger gently moving the blanket away from the baby’s chin. 

                “Do you?”  Idhreniel made a motion to hand him the newborn.

                “Not now, he is enjoying your company,” Ereinion replied, shaking his head.  “There will be other times, I’m sure.”  He pressed a kiss to her temple before rising.  “I do not expect to see you in your office for a few days.”

His words caused her to stare at him.  She began shaking her head, knowing all the duties she had not yet finished.

                “Ereinion, there…” his stern expression caused her to simply nod.  “As you wish.”

                “Good.  Enjoy your freedom.”

If Idhreniel had bothered to watch his departure, she would have caught his split second pause and fleeting wistful gaze linger on her. 

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                The chair rocked in rhythm to the waves.  Idhreniel rested her cheek against Arvellon’s soft, dark head.  The infant’s cheek pressed hot against her collarbone as he slept soundly.  She hummed softly, closing her eyes in an effort to allow her mind to relax.  Ivoreth and Tirnion had retired long ago, both in dire need of sleep.  When her mind refused to unwind, she opened her eyes to search her skies.

                “Look, Arvellon,” she whispered.  “The stars are out.”

She rose to her feet, drifting outside under a brilliant night sky.  It was clear in all four of the compass directions, and Ithil had chosen to hide beneath the earth.  The stars gleamed with a radiance that only appeared once a month.

                “They shine for you,” her gentle voice continued.  “See, the great Hound waits for you, to romp and play.  He chases after Menelvagor now, but I’m sure he would rather your company.  There, there is your star raised for all to see.”

The small glimmer was just barely visible to the naked eye.  Of course, Arvellon was oblivious to the spectacle displaying itself above him.  Idhreniel relished the feel of his soft skin against her cheek.  Tonight, she honestly acknowledged her desire for a child.  Someday.  She smiled to herself.  In this season of peace, there was always time now for the Elves.

                The next week passed in a blur and Idhreniel had almost forgotten about Celeborn’s request.  The dinner meal was nearly upon them when he knocked at her open door.  She hid her surprise well, having been under the impression he had already departed for Eregion.

                “Lord Celeborn.”  She rose with a smile, beckoning for him to enter.  “I had wondered when you would find me.”

The white lie fell easily off her lips.  Early in her career, she had learned the necessary evil of manipulating her words.  Now, it was a second nature.

                “I hope I am not interrupting.”  He closed the door behind him.

Idhreniel shook her head, going to the door that linked her office to the King’s.  Ereinion sat with Tirnion and his other captains for a report on the newest guards.  His gaze met hers and she offered him a sympathetic smile before closing the door. 

                “Do you mind if we talk outside?” Idhreniel asked, motioning towards the balcony.

                “No, yours is the most stunning of views.”  Celeborn moved outside, taking a seat.

Her balcony faced the Gulf and harbor, looking out over the residences and main road that curled through the city from the King’s Halls to the sea.  A few white-sailed ships still lingered on the waters, and she could see the beacons of both Forlond’s and Harlond’s harbors lit to guide those sailors home.  Farther east, Mithlond’s faint lights marked their harbor.  Idhreniel sat beside him, her gaze caught by the harbor, but her attention firmly on her companion.  Celeborn remained quiet for a moment longer, watching the ships.

                “Galadriel and I have a request to make of you,” he began slowly.  “We have gone to great lengths to be sure that Celebrían has learned under the best tutors.  Until now, they have been strictly Noldor, and I find myself wanting Celebrían to have a Sindar point of view in her studies.”  Idhreniel waited, unwilling to speak until he had fully verbalized his request.  “I wanted to see if you were interested in taking on a pupil.”

                The loud chimes of the dinner bells rang out, reminding them of the hour.  Celeborn quietly regarded Idhreniel as she contemplated her response.  She sighed softly, beginning to shake her head.

                “My lord, I am honored that you and your wife think so highly of me to even make this request,” she began.

                “Please, Idhreniel,” Celeborn interrupted.  “I assure you that Celebrían would be a model student.”

                “Oh, I have no doubt of her diligence,” Idhreniel reassured.  “However, one does not simply pick up a tool and a pen and begin their charts.  Celebrían must want to follow the stars; she must be the one who asks, not her father.”

It was a star-charter tradition, one Ninnethril had clearly impressed upon her daughter.  The stars held too many secrets.  If an individual wished to decipher those riddles, let them ask.  Then the stars could decide. 

                “Were she to come, would you accept?” Celeborn asked after a brief silence.

                “If she is indeed interested, Celeborn, then advise her to come and speak with me.  Otherwise, my answer is no,” Idhreniel replied with a dry smile.  She would make no promises without speaking first to Celebrían.

                “Then our business is complete.”  After a few more minutes of conversation, he rose and made his exit.

Idhreniel chose to remain seated, dissatisfied with the encounter.  She ran the meeting over in her mind, running down the infinite avenues of possibility until she finally thrust the thoughts out.  Her choice had been made; the present would soon enough flow to the likely future.  A quick glance to Ithil’s position reminded her that dinner was nearly finished.  She sighed, pushing to her feet and simply lingering beside the balcony rail.  The first strains of a song drifted up to her.  Unconsciously, she closed her eyes.

                His voice heralded his presence.  The clear tenor rose and fell according the song, the tone softening as the singer drew closer.  Idhreniel kept her eyes closed, face lifted to catch Ithil’s beams as she smiled.  Had the crown never came to him, he would have still been renowned as a singer.  She felt an arm circle her waist and she slid an arm around his in response.  In this manner he continued the song until the last few notes lingered in the air.  Only then did she dare to open her eyes and leave the twilight woods his song had created.  She found his grey eyes already fixed on her, and offered him nothing more than a smile.

                “Come and enjoy the singers with me,” he requested, and then added, “Please.”

She never refused him.

                They meandered through the gardens until they came across the gathering.  When Forlond had been constructed, Ereinion had set apart an area for the bards and minstrels to gather.  White columns held up the sky, and the fauna of the garden served as walls.  The benches within were filled with an audience, so they stood in the back.  Idhreniel found herself surprised by Ereinion for the first moment in a long time.  In private, the line between friend and beloved was often blurred, but tonight, in this public place, he dared to keep his arm firmly curled around her waist.  She did not complain, allowing herself to follow his lead and lean into the embrace.

                “Galadriel wrote to me about a traveler that has joined them,” he murmured the words into her hair.

                “And what is so unusual about this traveler that attracts Galadriel’s attention?” Idhreniel kept her own tone soft.

                “He is…” he spoke the last word so softly she didn’t catch it.

Idhreniel furrowed her brow, shaking her head slightly to show she did not understand.

                “He is a Maia,” Ereinion repeated.

                “How is that concerning to Galadriel?”  Idhreniel looked up at him.

                “She only tells that she feels troubled by his appearance, and to warn me since he has mentioned an interest in travelling to Lindon.”

                “And what do you think?”

He shrugged, taking his eyes off her for only a moment.

                “I find it interesting that a Maia is here outside of Valinor, but we shall see.  I am not yet convinced to bar Forlond against him.  Now…”  He steered her towards a garden path.  “…I saw that Celeborn met with you privately.  I hope you did not agree to lend more funds to them.”

                “You must mistake me for a different advisor.”  She bumped him playfully with her shoulder.  “Celeborn had a different request for me.”

                “And what was that?” 

                “He asked me to take Celebrían as my next pupil,” Idhreniel answered, eliciting a relieved sigh from the King.

                “Here I thought he was trying to lure you away from Lindon.”

                “Are you worried I might go to Ost-in-Edhil?”  Idhreniel sniffed a flower close to her.

                Ereinion plucked it from the bush, sliding the stem behind her ear.  Idhreniel knew her cheeks betrayed her blush, and caught his satisfied amusement.

                “I am always concerned you will someday realize your place is somewhere other than here with me,” he answered carefully.

Boldly, she stepped closer to him, pressing her palm to his cheek.

                “Forlond holds my heart.  I would be lost anywhere else,” she breathed.

The voices of the singers filled the silence between them.  His fingers traced the curve of her neck to cradle her jaw.  A war was waging in his mind, she could see it in his eyes.  They had always been a window into his thoughts. 

                “Forlond has nothing to give in return.”  The space between them grew unconsciously smaller.

                “I have only ever asked for one thing.”  Her hand slid from his cheek to rest in the center of his chest, over his quick beating heart.

Her words froze them both in their pose.  She kept her expression in check under his intense scrutiny, expecting him to break their locked stare.  Instead, he leaned closer, and she was sure he was about to whisper something to her.  For the first time in over a millennia, he kissed her.  He seemed likely to move away at any moment until she returned the kiss, throwing caution aside for once.  Her focus dwindled to the feel of his lips and the soft silk of his robes crumpling between her fingers.  Too quickly did he retreat; his lips pressed together tensely.  Idhreniel opened her eyes slowly, already feeling his penetrating gaze.

                Footsteps reminded them of their public location.  Ereinion sighed, frustration flashing across his face as he stepped away from their intimate pose.

                “I intend to finish this conversation in private.”  His eyes commanded her to follow.

She silently wondered if she was the uncertain moon trailing his steady sun.  They hurried away from the gardens, and no one bothered to stop them.  It was no uncommon sight to see the King and his chief advisor returning to their offices at a late hour.  Idhreniel slowed her pace as they came closer to their offices.  Her eyes traced the banners and works that told of the Noldor’s great deeds.  One artist had dared to recreate Fingolfin’s dramatic entrance into Beleriand, blue banners waving and gold trumpets shining below a fiery Anor. 

                “My grandfather braved ice and left his wife to follow his brother,” Ereinion spoke.  “Our grief has only increased since then.”

It surprised her to hear his critical words, but she made no comment moving towards the next mural that reflected his father’s heroic last stand.  Fingon shone like a silver flame in his armor, unstained by the blackness around him.  Ereinion had also paused, his face a study in ambiguity as he gazed at his father’s likeness.

                “Do you ever think of him?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Ereinion walked on to his office.  Idhreniel lingered for only a moment more.  Sometimes she forgot how closely Ereinion resembled his father.  By the time she entered his office and closed the door behind her, he was busy staring at his hidden cache of wines.  Idhreniel swept up beside him, reaching to choose a bottle at random.

“No, not that one.”  He waved at her hand with a weary sigh.  “Have I taught you nothing about wine?”

“I believe I wasn’t listening.”  Idhreniel crossed her arms, allowing him to make the final choice.

He ignored her comment, moving away with the bottle to open it.  He tended to expound upon the intricacies of wine tasting, and she had little interest in the subject.

                “Were you anyone else, I might take offense to that,” he finally said, leading the way outside.

They spent so much of their days inside that their nights were always allocated for the outdoors.  The small table with two chairs sitting close to the balcony rail served as their usual seating. 

                “You allow me many liberties,” Idhreniel replied truthfully.

Freedoms she was careful to presume only when they were alone.  Silently, the minutes stretched and passed between them.  Idhreniel contentedly watched the repetition of the waves sliding into the shore, allowing the motion to lull her into relaxation.

                “My father has weighed on my thoughts lately.”  He watched the blush colored wine swirl in his cup.  Idhreniel silently sipped hers, allowing him the chance to continue.  “And my mother.”

                “We all miss Meldilmë,” Idhreniel replied.  His mother had gone across the sea at the beginning of the age. 

                “She left these shores because of her great love for my father.”  Ereinion still did not take his eyes off his glass.  “She longed for him every day they were apart.  She tried to hide it from me, but I remember.  I remember…”

When he did not finish, Idhreniel tilted her head to study him curiously.

                “You seem critical of their relationship.”  Idhreniel was uncertain where this train of conversation would lead.

                “I want to be realistic.”  At that, he finally looked at her.  “I have repeatedly said I will not play the political games and pretend at courting.  I made a choice long ago to not wed on these shores.  I will have no lady bear my mother’s sorrow, and I will leave no child fatherless.”

The words were brutally clear.  Now, Idhreniel found herself gazing into her cup.

                “Yet, we have had peace here with the chaining of Morgoth,” she noted quietly.

                “I fear it is to be short-lived,” Ereinion set aside his glass, reaching over for her hand.  He looked reluctant to utter his next words, paused with his lips just barely open and expression completely apologetic.  “While I may desire many things, I do not wish to give you any false hope.”

                Idhreniel squeezed his hand, respecting his honest words, but struggling with them all the same.  The echo of the waves matched the beat of her heart, drowning out all other sounds.  He had laid the choice before her: to wait or not.  Yet, the many years between them had firmly rooted her mind and heart. 

                “I will not lie and say I am not disappointed at your words,” she began, watching his expression quickly shift from sincerity to detachment.  “But I cannot and will not change my heart.  If you can tell me that your position is the same as mine, I will be content.  I will not ask of you more than you can give.”

He brought her knuckles to his lips gently, expression completely serious.

                “It is,” he declared softly.  “And it will always be.”

Her heart soared with the confession.

                “Then I will find a way to be content,” Idhreniel smiled affectionately to him.

He kissed her fingertips before releasing her hand and standing.  He leaned his back against the rail, studying her instead of the view.  Idhreniel only raised a brow at him, attempting to ignore his scrutiny.

                “Do you like the wine?” he finally asked.

                “Gil-galad, we both know I am not going to respond about the sweet notes or the faint taste of peaches,” Idhreniel responded with a sigh.

                “But you noticed,” he smiled victoriously.  “With that you reveal you have been listening to my lectures.”

She stood, already shaking her head as she approached him.  He could not hide his delighted smile, sipping his wine. 

                “I have done nothing of the sort.”  She tried to hold back her laughter.

She leaned her back against the rail as well, tilting her head back to gaze at Ithil.  To anyone who saw them on the terrace, it seemed they were only star gazing.  The ornate balustrade hid their twined fingers from view.

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Chapter End Notes

Characters/Notes:

Idhreniel: chief counselor to Gil-galad; sister of Tirnion; daughter of Ninnethril and Olthir.

Ereinion Gil-galad: High-king of the Noldor; son of Findekáno and Meldilmë.

Tirnion: First Captain of Gil-galad’s personal guard; brother of Idhreniel; son of Ninnethril and Olthir.

Galheril: Noldor; Daughter of one of Gil-galad’s counselors.

Ivoreth: wife of Tirnion.

Arvellon: son of Tirnion.

Melevagor (S): “Swordsman of the sky”; corresponds to the constellation Orion; he has one red star that makes up his right shoulder.

Meldilmë: Exile; mother of Gil-galad; wife of Findekáno.