The Roads Not taken by Idrils Scribe

Begetting Day Present

The table in Elrohir’s anteroom was strewn with wax tablets bearing unreadable Elvish scribbles, as if a small but exceptionally elegant animal had hopped across their soft surfaces. Glorfindel looked up from his night’s work with a look of cheerful anticipation when Elrohir stepped from his bedroom. 

Sunrise was hours away yet. A crackling hearthfire kept the room pleasantly warm, but outside the world glittered sharp and white beneath the winter moon. Packed snow lay high on the windowsills.

“Good morning, and congratulations on your begetting day!” Glorfindel beamed as he stood to embrace Elrohir. “Elladan will be here soon, but your first gift will be from me.”

The Elf smiled with an expectant air as he passed Elrohir a small box of engraved bronze. The instant he lifted the tightly fitted lid a familiar fruity scent wafted up and Elrohir could not keep from gasping in shock.

“Glorfindel, how in Eru’s blessed name did you find dates in a country under four feet of snow?!”

Elrohir belatedly realized that sheer astonishment had made him revert to Haradi. Glorfindel’s fair face lit up at Elrohir’s delight in his unexpected gift. 

Nonetheless the answer came in crisp Sindarin. “They are imported, of course. Nenuwen came across them at the Great Market in Fornost, and she thought of you.” 

Glorfindel telling an untruth was new, and distinctly odd. For a man of so many talents he was a rather poor liar. 

Elrohir had never met Nenuwen, Elrond’s ambassador at the court of King Valandil of Arnor, but he could not imagine her going about her days in search of birthday presents for her lord’s sons. Glorfindel must have ordered the dates from some trader in Fornost Erain. They were likely the most expensive food in all of the North, given that they had been shipped all the way from South Gondor through Pelargir, Tharbad and Fornost. 

The gift’s odd mixture of thoughtfulness and opulence was so typically Glorfindel that Elrohir could not help but laugh. Glorfindel looked for all the world as if he had just won a prize. Still laughing, Elrohir half-jokingly bowed, one hand over his heart in the Haradi gesture of thankfulness. 

“Thank you very much. You are generous, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel’s look grew soft, and his mind was open. Elrohir glimpsed wide skies of grey and silver clouds over rolling green hills, the air fresh and wet and clean. Campfires and starlit roads walked singing. Golden forests and cities of white and sailing ships. A thundering cavalry charged, their proud banners streaming in the west wind. 

“Is this a vision?”

“They are but a few threads in the weave of the coming days.” Glorfindel mused. “No doubt we will meet darker ones too, and some may slip from our fingers entirely.  All Sight is imperfect, but I do believe you and I will see most of these together.”  

Glad for something to occupy his hands Elrohir poured two cups of watered wine and handed one to Glorfindel before raising his own. “At last Elladan can taste those dates I keep telling him about. Thank you for a memorable birthday gift.” 

“Begetting day. Not birthday.” Glorfindel said.

“What do you mean?”

Glorfindel carefully explained, as he had so many things. “Today we celebrate the day Elladan and you were begotten. Not the day of your birth, which is three days from now if I remember correctly.”

Once more the Sindarin language had Elrohir puzzled. “I still misunderstand, I believe. What does ‘begetting’ mean? The child’s naming?” 

Glorfindel shook his head. “A child’s first naming is called Essecarmë, and it takes place after the babe is born. Begetting means conception.”

Elrohir lowered his eyes to his half-empty cup, the floor, anywhere but Glorfindel’s. Blood rushed to his face as he scrambled for a polite reply to this unexpected obscenity. On some level he was aware that Elrond and Celebrian must share a bed, but to publicly announce such base bodily functions and put on yearly celebrations of the act veered far beyond the boundaries of human propriety. 

He was suddenly half-convinced that Elves might have some ethereal way of achieving pregnancy, unknowable to Mortals. The relief was so great it showed on the surface of his mind.

A bemused Glorfindel was quick to disabuse him of the idea. “The Haradrim, and Mortals in general have some … distinct ideas. Elves are less restrained. There is no shame for parents in announcing that a child was given to them. Are Mortal children not conceived in the same manner?” 

Elrohir felt his cheeks turn a luminous beet-red. That exasperating Elf managed to sound so damned innocent !

Eru Allfather in His endless mercy chose that exact moment to have Elladan burst into the room with a shout of glee and envelop Elrohir in something that was half hug, half wrestling hold. 

By the time Elrohir finished his retaliation and Glorfindel could stop laughing enough to stand up straight once more, the subject was forgotten.

Chapter End Notes

Why was this road not taken?

Mainly because the light, humorous tone seemed too jarring, and I couldn't find a place where it seemed to work with the surrounding scenes. It was originally meant to sprinkle in some comic relief, but these chapters are so full of night terrors and talk of fading and Ringwraiths that I just couldn't fit it in anywhere.

Chronologically, the best spot is probably in or around chapter 9. Elrohir is no longer scared of the Elves, but he hasn't gotten used to them either and he's still very much a beloved but awkward stranger. That Elladan and Elrohir's begetting day is in the dead of winter is pure headcanon, JRRT gives us the year (TA 130), but not the date.

What do you think of Glorfindel's characterization here, and his developing relationship with Elrohir? Would you have liked to see this scene in the story? Any thoughts on he awkwardness of the concept of begetting days?
A comment would be much appreciated.

See you soon for another road not taken,

Idrils Scribe