Drabbles by Grundy

Chapter 6

December 27 2020 Instadrabbling

Idril giggled at her cousin pacing about like a cat that had fallen into a fountain.

They liked to explore the valley– she hadn’t really seen much of it, having come right to the city, and Maeglin got restless on occasion. Neither of them had expected the summer storm this afternoon. At the first thunderclap, they’d raced for the shelter of the nearest buildings. It wasn’t as if their wanderings could take them very far, but it had been far enough to end up drenched.

“I’m glad one of us finds enchantment in being soaked to the bone,” Maeglin muttered.

---

Celeborn allowed a pair of guards to pass him by before he ducked into the alcove – for once, he found himself grateful for the ridiculous Noldorin architecture favored in Mithlond – to give himself a moment.

It was almost a relief that in all the fuss over Elrond, no one but his wife had yet remembered that he too had known Elros well. He roamed in memory back to the days when the twins had been only boys rather than princes. To think of that bright spirit gone from Arda forever…

Come to me, beloved.

Galadriel knew and mourned as well.

---

They’ve known each other since they were children, so it is far from difficult for Elwing to see when something is troubling her husband. More than usual, that is. It’s not at all weird to find him troubled in this difficult year.

He’s been staring out to sea all the day. It’s unlikely he’s hankering to sail anywhere, and she is discovering well enough what forms grief takes in him to know this isn’t it.

No, this is worry.

“Tell me, my love?” she says softly.

He hesitates before answering.

“It is Elrond,” he says, his voice thick with concern.

---

Thranduil knew perfectly well he’d have the mother of all hangovers in the morning. He was willing to accept that in exchange for being drunk enough to not see his father’s reaction to the news of Elros’ death. Or little Elrond’s.

They had all known perfectly well that it was unlikely Elros would turn back. Even had he changed his mind, the inscrutable Powers in the West would probably have held him to his original decision. In the privacy of his own (rather soused) mind, Thranduil wondered if sundering brothers – not just brothers, but twins – in this way wasn’t evil.

---

It was not the first time she had walked in this wood, but it was the first time she did so as Galadriel.

Did the trees sense the difference? Or did they recognize it by Celeborn’s presence at her side as they moved through the forest together? Either way, she can hear the rustling that is the arboreal equivalent of gossip, and the burbling water of the nearby stream carrying the tale farther still.

Was it really so remarkable that they had found themselves in tune? They might be from opposite sides of the Sea, but they were both Lindar.

---

The resurrection of Finrod’s legacy would be difficult, Orodreth knew. Especially since he had not come out of the confrontation with Curufin and Celegorm unscathed. The whispering might be starting to ebb, but he did not delude himself that it was gone entirely. He had not proven himself worthy of his father and uncle. It was the news that Finrod had died faithful to the last, broken by Sauron in the tower that had once been his own that had been the catalyst. He would do all in his power to protect Nargothrond and the people who called it home.