The Elendilmir by pandemonium_213

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Chapter 32: Ringmaker

When Elerína and Sámaril tell Valandil of their love for one another, Valandil does not receive the revelation well.  However, when Sámaril enlists Valandil's assistance in crafting a gift symbolic of the elven smith's love for Elerína, Valandil appears to be brought round to accepting his mother and Sámaril's life together.

Thanks to Lizards Russandol, Surgical Steel, Scarlet10, Sanna, Aeärwen, KyMahalei, Moreth, Oshun, Lilith, Elfscribe, Raksha, Drummerwench & Darth Fingon for comments, lively discussion and valuable critique.

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Her fingers trailed from my shoulders to the small of my back, tying the threads of connection that bound me to her when I tried to roll away. I steeled myself to leave the warm cocoon of her bed, but she sat up behind me and strengthened those threads as her lips followed the path where her fingers had run, her breath warm against my skin.

"Can't you stay a little while longer?"

Once again, I had to resist temptation, following the pattern of the past several weeks, which found me slipping into her quarters late in the night and then departing before dawn.  We continued this ruse of secrecy out of reluctance to declare ourselves to the one whom our love affected the most. I wanted her to take the lead in this, but had not pressed her.

When I tensed to rise from the bed, her embrace tightened with possessiveness. I leaned back against her to soften my rejection of her invitation.

"The sun has already risen. I must go, but I wish..."

"What do you wish?" Her breath brushed my ear, sending a thrill of pleasure down my neck.  Her hand slid down my belly, but I clasped her fingers to prevent their exploration of my body's agreement that I should remain with her.

"That I could stay. You know that."   

Abruptly, she drew back from me, and I heard her slap a pillow with the palm of her hand. "Then we must do something about this! I am tired of sneaking around when most of the household knows that we are...well, they have surely guessed about us."

"More than guess. Most know by now," I said. "My people are perceptive, and they enjoy gossip as much as your folk, if I may say so."

She laughed at that. "Oh, I am well aware of the elvish penchant for tales of all sorts, from the noble to the vulgar. But there is one who deserves our honesty."

"You are right. He does. What do you propose we do?"

"We must speak to Elrond first. As Valandil's guardian, he should know of our intentions, and then we will speak to Valandil -- together."

"What are our intentions, my lady?"

"To share our lives openly without shame. Isn't that what you want? "

"Yes, but until then, I really must leave you before Valandil awakens."

With a frustrated huff, she flopped down on the bed. I bent over and kissed her, tasting the promise in her lips and tongue, before I tore myself out of her embrace to dress in haste and steal out of her quarters.

~*~

That very afternoon, we sat side by side on a settee in Elrond's study where waning sunlight cast filigreed shadows from branches of the bare winter trees outside. Elerína spoke first, presenting our case, while Elrond sat behind his desk and listened, his brows slightly furled and his mouth taut. When we finished speaking, he leaned forward and set his hands with fingers interlaced on the leather blotter before him.

"If I were a chieftain of Men, and you were but a crofter and a widow of my village who sought my blessing," he said, "this would be so much simpler. But such is not the case. Elerína, I am well aware that it is not unheard of for a noble woman -- even a queen -- of your people to take a lover, but I have also seen the outcomes of such arrangements. As you well know, these consequences can disrupt the succession of a kingdom. So do be careful if you take my meaning." Elerína blushed, but he pressed on. "You say you do not intend to marry a man of the Dúnedain again?"

"I do not. I will not be barter for a political alliance. I love Sámaril, and I will to the end of my days." She reached to take my hand. I squeezed hers in return, but the affectionate gesture did not stifle the chilling reminder that our days together passed far too swiftly.

"Yet by joining with one of the Firstborn you have complicated matters. Far be it from me to gainsay the two of you, for that would be the height of hypocrisy. I would not exist if it were not for the love between mortal Men and Elvenkind." His lips curled up with a smile at his self-deprecation. "Nonetheless, I have my concerns."

He then fixed his considered attention on me. "Sámaril, as a married man of Noldorin descent, you must be aware that there will be repercussions should you decide to leave these shores and take the Straight Road to the Lonely Isle. It is with the Valar's sufferance that we are even allowed to set foot on the Blessed Lands, and you defy their teachings. Only the Elder King may sever marriage."

"I am aware of that, my lord," I replied but did not add that I was uncertain that I wanted to leave. In spite of the burden of weariness that the passing years laid upon my heart, Middle-earth was still my home while the Blessed Lands were foreign, even frightening.

"I hope you are." He caught us both with his somber gaze. "I cannot in good conscience give you my blessing, but neither will I obstruct you. Over the years, I learned well the benefits of tolerance and the hazards of orthodoxy. Thus there are those who defy the teachings and are permitted to live openly as lovers here. But Elerína, you are not just any woman. You are the mother of the future king of Arnor. It is Valandil who concerns me the most. Do you think he will understand?"

"Sámaril is like a father to him. They have been close since my son was little more than a babe. Their bond was forged long before you returned from the war." Elrond's grave face flinched minutely in response to her words. "I know this as his mother. I believe my son will welcome Sámaril into our family."

"You know your son best. Do as you see fit then. You may go now, but I must keep Sámaril for a moment."

I escorted Elerína to the door. We held one another's eyes, and in hers, I saw wraiths of uncertainty. I reached for her hand, lifting it to my lips for a kiss of reassurance.

"I will find you later." She gave me a wan smile before leaving.

Elrond had risen from his chair and stood before the windows that looked out over the grey landscape. A sideways glance beckoned me to his side.

"You know my history, Sámaril."

"There is no one here in Imladris who does not, my lord."

"My brother made the choice that would forever separate us. When I was young, even though I loved him, I hated his decision. Yet now, with the weight of years upon me, I question which of us made the wiser choice." He reached to rub his forehead, shutting his eyes briefly before he turned to me again. "The pain from the death of a loved one never disappears. For mortals, time smoothes the sharp edges; they have been given the grace to escape the unending cycles of the world. But for us, the Firstborn, the pain endures. You know this. Elerína is a brilliant and beautiful woman so I well understand why you love her. In fact, I confess that I envy you, but I cannot emphasize how agonizing your separation will be. Just know that when she leaves this world, I will be here for you. You may go now."

~*~

That night, for the first time in weeks, I slept alone in my own quarters. The next morning I hesitated before I knocked on the front door of Elerina's suite. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I had not felt this shaky since I had asked Nierellë's father for her hand in marriage.  Lady Vorwen opened the door and gave me a knowing look. She had been our co-conspirator, but I knew we had created an increasingly untenable situation for her.

Valandil sat slumped in one of the chairs beside the hearth where a fire snapped and crackled cheerfully. What a contrast this was to years before, when he was a little boy who would come running into my arms. He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve, no doubt wishing to be somewhere else, most likely in Calaquar's workshop where he spent so much of his time as Yule approached. Elerína rose from the settee opposite her son and invited me to sit beside her.

"Valandil, I have asked Istyar Sámaril to come here this morning so that we might speak to you about a matter."

Valandil glanced up at us but returned his attention to the loose thread.  The words I had rehearsed evaporated when faced with his discomfort. I simply blurted out what I felt.

"Val, I love your mother..."

"And I return Sámaril's love so...so..." Elerína stammered, her confidence fleeing. She looked at me with supplication.

"You will see me here in your quarters much more often. At night and in the early morning both."

I winced at my awkward words, but nonetheless they caught his attention. He said nothing but swung his eyes from his mother to me and back to his mother again. Then realization took hold.

"You mean that you are..." He blushed and averted his gaze, yanking at the thread, which snapped when it broke. Then he lifted his face to address us. "When are you getting married?

"We are not..." Elerína began.

Val cut her off sharply. "Why not?"

Elerína silently implored me to explain. I shifted uncomfortably.  I would love her regardless of her son's judgment, but I wanted Valandil's approval. My worry that he would be less than accepting of the change in my relationship with his mother was now borne out.  I tried to be direct.

"By the laws given to my people from the Powers of the West, I am forbidden from marrying your mother."

"Then what you are doing is not right."

"I understand why you would say that, Val, but I love your mother. We have been together since the harvest festival so..."

"But you should marry her, Istyar!"

"I have told you! I cannot, Val."

"How many times have you told me that I should not have relations until I marry? And how is this different than...than what my father did with that woman of Umbar? Mother, surely you know that I heard what her ambassador called you...what she called me!"

"This is different!" Elerína snapped, but her face reddened. Valandil had clearly struck a nerve, but she struggled to soften her tone. "You are so young, still a boy."

"I am not a child, Mother!"

"You may be at the brink of manhood, but you are far from being an adult like the Istyar or me, and our decision is an adult matter. We just thought it best to be honest with you."

"Then it really doesn't matter what I think, does it?" He leapt out of the chair and in a few strides had his hand on the door.

"Valandil!" Elerína cried, but she was too late. The door slammed, and her son's steps thudded away down the corridor.

"That did not go so well," she sighed.

I reached to take her hands, hands that were so graceful and fine compared to mine. Her fingers were unadorned save for her right forefinger where she wore a simple gold band of matrimony in memory of Isildur, just as I wore a similar band in memory of Nierellë. As I comforted her and admired her fingers, an idea rang through me like the chime of a great bell, resonating with both exhilaration and apprehension.

"Give him some time," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "I will speak to him."

~*~

I waited for an hour or so before I hiked up the path to the forge. There I found Valandil just where I expected him to be: in Calaquar's workshop. He sat hunched over the bench, pressing a slender carving knife into a small piece of wood. Nella, as was her custom, lay sprawled on the floor at his feet. She woofed at me in greeting when I entered the room, but Val did not look up from his task nor did I disturb him. When he set the knife aside, he stared at his work: a golden maple comb with fine teeth and inlays of cherry wood adorning its crescent. Its half-completed mate lay nearby.

"I am making these for Mother," he said dully. "For her hair."

"Val..."

He raised his face and met my eyes directly. "I am sorry, Istyar. I acted like a child . You are right. You and Mother are grown-ups. It is not my place to interfere with her life and tell her whom she should love." But he could not hide the hurt beneath his contrite words.

"Come with me," I said.

He set aside the carving knife and slid off the stool. He and his dog followed me to my office, the wolfhound's nails clicking on the stone tiles.

"Please sit." He pulled up a wooden chair while I sat behind my desk.

"Are you angry with me, Istyar?"

"No. But I understand why you are angry with me."

"I am not angry, but I am confused. You said your wife died long ago."

"That is true."

"Then why can't you marry Mother?"

"Because I am considered married."

"But your wife doesn't live!"

"Most likely she does not live now, and that's what I feel in my heart. I believe I would know if she had returned to the living. But that is the point: she could live, perhaps will live again in the Blessed Lands. Through the mysteries of the Valar, the spirits of our people can be put back into their bodies again, whole and new. That is why remarriage of widows or widowers to another is forbidden unless given dispensation by the Powers. If I, a widower, married another woman of my people, I might then have two living wives."

"Oh." He pursed his lips in thought. "But Mother is mortal. She will..."

"Yes, I know, Valandil. She will die. Nonetheless, the law remains the same, and I, who dwell here in Middle-earth, cannot plead my case before the Elder King and the rest of the Powers."

"I see. I just wish..." He paused. "I wish you could marry her. It just seems...forgive me, Istyar. It seems dishonorable. Like my mother isn't good enough for you."

His words pierced me like a blade. The Followers. The Usurpers. The Sickly. Always the lesser. Those pejorative words rang in my ears. How often had my people spoken less than charitably of their mortal brethren? Many of those Men whom I had encountered in Tharbad years ago bore the worst characteristics of their race and reinforced that harsh judgment, but Elerína and Valandil had taught me otherwise.

"On the contrary. I feel that I am not worthy of your mother. She is a high noble lady. You are right. It may be that I do her a disservice, but I love her, Val, and I love you, too. That is why I cannot hide in the shadows any longer."

"I think...I think I am glad that you told me how much you love her." Valandil lowered his eyes to his hands knotted together in his lap. "I honor my father's memory, Istyar. I often dream of him, but to tell you the truth, I never really knew him. You are more my father than he was, and Master Elrond? I think of him as my grandfather for I never knew Elendil the King either. That is why I wish you could marry Mother. So that we could truly be kin."

"Val, we are kin. You are the son-of-my-heart. No ceremony will change that. But I have made a decision, and I need your help. I am going to make something that I told myself I would never make again."

"What is that, Istyar?"

"Rings, Valandil. I am going to make rings."

"Why wouldn't you want to make rings? People like to wear them."

"It's a long story, one that I will tell you some day, but not now. I wish to make rings for your mother and me. I may not be able to marry Elerína, but I can pledge myself to her. I want you to be part of that. But you must promise not to tell her. I want this to be a surprise."

His blue eyes were now alight. "I promise! What do you want me to do?"

"You will be my assistant. We must work fast and efficiently because I wish to give her my pledge at Yule, and that is barely three weeks away."

"Yes! I'll help!" Then his eager face fell. "But Master Elrond said I must not use the deep arts with you."

"Don't worry about that. You will only assist me as any young man might. There is no need for you to dabble in the deep arts. What I'd like you to do now is go through my inventory for the materials I require. Here, I'll write a list for you."

Valandil ran to and fro, from my office to my workshop and the forge, gathering the items I had written down on the list, while I sketched the design of what I intended to be a matched pair of rings. The image flowed swiftly from my mind to the paper. When Val looked at my sketch, he broke out into a smile.

"Mother will love this. But how will you make the rings?"

I explained the art of lost wax casting to him, and he listened with interest, periodically interrupting me to ask questions. When I had no more to say, I looked out the window to see that it was dark. Time had flown while Valandil and I began the preparations. "We should return to the house. It will be suppertime soon. We can work together again tomorrow."

"I have lessons with Master Elrond and Lord Glorfindel in the morning, but I can come up here right after that."

"Good! I will look forward to seeing you." We walked together out of my office.

"Istyar?"

"Yes?"

"Will you sit with Mother and me at the table tonight? I mean, sit by us?"

"Of course. I would be honored, Val."

Thus we all sat together at the high table that evening, Elerína between Valandil and me. I remembered my dream some years before, when I imagined sitting at the high table with Nierellë and our son. With their lives cut short on the bloody fields of Eregion, that had not come to pass, but what had come to fruition, something I would never have predicted, filled my heart with joy and hope. Later that night, before Elerína and I drifted off to sleep, she asked me what I had said to Valandil to bring him around.

"I asked him for his assistance with a project I have undertaken."

"What kind of a project?"

"One that is secret."

Her chuckle sent delicate flutters across my chest. "A secret project? I'm afraid to ask. I will wait then."

~*~

Valandil not only assisted me in the forge as I prepared to cast the rings, but he also started another project of his own, saying only that it was meant to "go with the rings." The day came when I was ready to smelt the metal and remove any impurities that might linger in it. Valandil's eyes grew round when I brought out the cask that held a small ingot of mithril.

"True-silver! It is so beautiful! But why not make the rings with gold, Istyar? Mother loves gold."

"I know she does, but mithril is more precious, and it does not carry the marring of Morgoth."

"What do you mean by that? How did the Foe mar gold?"

"Melkor spread his power throughout many substances of the earth, including gold, in an effort to bend the entire world to his will, and failing that, to be able to wrest it away from those who loved it. But his power never touched silver and mithril."

"How do you know this?"

"Long ago, someone told this to me."

I said no more than that and sank into my own thoughts. I keenly remembered when I had asked Istyar Aulendil the same question while he worked on the mithril ring he intended to give Mélamírë on her one hundred and fiftieth begetting day.

"Gold is a beautiful substance, lad, and it flatters both ladies of my household," the Istyar had said, "but as lovely as gold is -- and as useful, too -- it carries the touch of Melkor. Silver was never corrupted as such, and true-silver is that much more pure. For all that Elves, Dwarves and Men might covet mithril, Melkor's influence can never take root in it." He raised the ring, its white-silver fire matching the same in his eyes. "I cannot take the chance that any marring might be caught within this ring."

Thus I knew that if any of Sauron's taint lingered in me, it would not be inadvertently captured in the substance of the rings when I crafted them. But as always, when I remembered that conversation, I wondered why it had been so important to him that Mélamírë's ring should be crafted of mithril. A generous guess might hold that he did not wish his corruption to entwine itself in her, but nothing he did was ever without self-interest. His true reason for choosing mithril would remain unknown to me for a very long time.

Valandil may have stood nearby when I poured the molten mithril from the crucible into the first cast, but he was not with me when I sent my will into the flowing metal. As the mithril solidified,  I allowed not only my love for Elerína to become bound to its very substance, to be held fast for eternity, but also the exhilaration I felt in this act of creation. It was an exercise that at once unnerved me, calling forth the bitter memories of when I had cast nine Rings of Power, but it also eased my self-loathing at what I had done in the forges of Ost-in-Edhil. Crafting her ring was symbolic of my love, unconditional and unsullied by pride or the desire for recognition and dominion.

Val watched eagerly when I removed the investment to reveal the new ring in its rough form. The next night I repeated the process and began the painstaking work of removing extraneous metal to refine the shapes of the rings. Then we rifled through my collection of gemstones I had acquired over the years: white diamonds from the Dwarves; rubies, sapphires, emeralds from far exotic lands of the South and East; and creamy pearls from the treasuries of Círdan. In the end, the stones that we selected were none of these, but instead a type of chalcedony that struck each of us as far more fitting to the design of the rings. While I worked on the finishing touches, Valandil hid himself in Calaquar's workshop, and each time he emerged, he practically vibrated with glee.

Although Elerína asked what kept us away from her in the evenings, she did not press us when Valandil and I exchanged conspiratorial smiles and told her that it would be a surprise. Often, we returned together to the family quarters late in the evening to find her waiting up for us with a single lamp lighting the parlor. We would bid Valandil goodnight, and then she and I would retire to the bedchamber where she reminded me with loving words and her supple body why I worked diligently on this project.

I completed the rings on the same day that the ladies of Elrond's household gathered pine, holly and mistletoe in the grey winter woods to decorate the Hall of Fire, filling the House with sharp green fragrance that mingled with the savory odors wafting from the kitchens. Although I intended to hide the rings in my quarters, Valandil had other ideas.

"I have a surprise, too, Istyar. When will you give the ring to Mother?" When I told him, he next asked: "Will you entrust your rings to me? I will bring them to you at the appointed time."

"Of course, I trust you. Here they are." I extracted the rings from my pocket and handed them to him. "Just keep them hidden."

~*~

Many winter solstices had come and gone throughout the course of my long life, each one fleeting by with every turn of the sun, but the celebration in the waning days of fifth year of the Third Age was especially stirring. Elerina's love made everything that much more intense and joyful. She held my hand when we sang down the sun as dark clouds heavy with snow lumbered over the foothills toward the valley. We shared sips of wine and morsels of the winter feast's fare while we pressed the lengths of our thighs against each other beneath the table. We laughed and sang during the evening's celebration in the Hall of Fire. Arms interlinked, we spun around with the others, weaving through the circles formed the dance of the holly and the ivy. But that year, when I felt swivel of her hips beneath her gown and the palms of her hands against my waist, I basked in the knowledge that later we would claim much more from one another.

When the others abandoned themselves to pipes, tabor and drums and fled into the night where they would reel around the bonfire and couple in the cold woods, I offered my arm to my lover and led her to her chambers where we embraced against the long dark in that bower of warmth. The hands that had clasped mine when we sang and danced now gripped my buttocks, urging me on, our naked rhythm matching that of the distant drums. I reveled in her passionate cries when I brought her to climax, and then I released my hold to spill into her. We lay joined, slick with sweat and unwilling to part, but when she shivered as winter's chill crept into the room, I rolled off her body and gathered her into my arms in one motion. She pulled the down coverlet up over us. Just when I thought she was asleep, she stirred a little.

"Look, Sámaril," she murmured. "It's snowing."

The first flakes of the coming storm glinted silver against the window. I watched the snowflakes drift and swirl, those exquisite crystals that we -- the craftsmen of the Eldar -- attempted to preserve in jewels by our arts but invariably failed for their ephemeral beauty was meant only to last a moment during the great march of Time. My beautiful beloved, her life as ephemeral as a snowflake, snuggled against my side, and I soon joined her on the dream paths, the sound of the drums diminishing as I fell asleep.

~*~

The next day found the valley blanketed in snow. Flurries still floated down from the dirty-wool sky. As we had in years past, Valandil, Elerína, and I took our morning walk after exchanging our gifts, although I had withheld mine. We shuffled through the soft snow until we reached the river where drifts muted the rushing waters below. When we reached the height of the bridge, I turned to face Elerína.

"I made you wait for your Yule gift, my lady, and I spent too many nights away from you these past weeks to craft it. I hope you can forgive me for my absence and secrecy, but I also hope you will think the wait to be worth it. Valandil?"

From beneath the fur of his jacket, Valandil produced his surprise: a small casket of polished rosewood; inlaid on its lid with rare mother-of-pearl were Elerina's and my initials.

"Val, did you make this?" she asked, running her finger along the edge of the lid and then over the inlay.

"I did."

"It's lovely. You are a fine woodwright. Thank you..."

"Mother, look at what's inside." He opened the lid slowly to reveal the pair of mithril rings nestled in a bed of indigo silk. Elerina's eyes widened at the sight.

"Oh, Sámaril, these are beautiful! And two of them!"

 Understanding lifted her face into a joyful smile as she gazed at the rings. Each was crafted with the design of a pair of wings cupping a gem called the falcon's eye: a dark blue stone with streaks of silvery grey running through it. After taking her left hand in my right, I lifted the smaller of the rings.

"Please accept this as a token of my love for you, Elerína. With this ring, I pledge myself to you until the end of your days. Please know you will forever hold my heart." I slipped the ring over her forefinger. She took the larger ring from the box and raised her eyes, which welled with tears. I remembered when her tears mingled with my blood the first time we had stood on the bridge together, when I knew I had fallen in love with her.

"Sámaril, you, too, hold my heart until the end of my days. Our fates may follow different paths, but I will take my love for you beyond the Circles of the World. " She then slid the ring over my left forefinger.

I took her in my arms and kissed her, but we quickly broke apart at the sound of clapping hands, first Valandil and then those who had followed us and witnessed our embrace on the bridge. There in the snow stood Vorwen, Thorno, Lairiel, Laurefin and Elrond, who, in spite of the gentle smile on his face and his applause, held immeasurable sadness in his eyes.