Finding Lost Family by chrissystriped

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Chapter Fourteen

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When Ecthelion came down to breakfast he found to his surprise that his mother and Sharû were already having an animated discussion about – he couldn’t believe it – poetry. He had introduced them yesterday and they had been very polite to each other but he hadn’t expected them to get along so well.

Ecthelion stopped before they could see him and listened, he didn’t want to interrupt them, and then he was flabbergasted when Sharû started to declaim in his deep voice in a language that sounded more like Vanyarin than his usual dialect. Ecthelion closed his eyes, his voice made him feel warm, he’d have liked to be woken by that... he shook his head. He hadn't thought that Sharû would let himself be persuaded to recite anything. But his mother was good with persuading others. He entered the room when Sharû had finished.

“Good morning. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

Sharû lowered his eyes embarrassed.

“That was good”, Ecthelion told him. “You have a nice voice.”

Sharû threw him a sceptical glance.

“His mother taught him”, Nivwen said and smiled at Sharû. “I’ve never heard it quite that way. You should write those poems down.”

Sharû shook his head. “I can’t imagine that anyone would be interested in poems half-remembered by an orc.”

“There are people who research different versions of the old poems, I’m sure they’d be interested in getting to know you. I could introduce you.”

Ecthelion smiled. “My mother knows everyone. Don’t let her talk you into something you don’t want, but don’t think your memories are worthless. Anyway, how is it that I find you here talking about poetry? What did I miss?”

“I couldn’t sleep and you said I could use the library.” Sharû shrugged. “Your mother found me there and... we started talking.”

“You were right, Ehtele”, Nivwen said. “Sharû is really not so different from us and I’m glad to have made his acquaintance.”

Sharû looked embarrassed yet again but Ecthelion’s smile widened.

“And I’m glad you see it that way, amme. He’s one of my best friends, after all.”

Ecthelion gulped because he remembered again that almost all his former friends were dead, as was his father. What would he have said to his friendship with an orc? He hoped, they would be allowed to be rehoused soon now that the curse had been laid to rest.

“Ehtele? Are you alright?” His mother reached out to him. Ecthelion smiled bravely.

“Yes, I was just thinking of father and Glorfindel, Elemmakil... all the others I lost.”

Nivwen smiled sadly. “I’m sure the Valar are going to be as just to them as they were to you. We are going to see them again.”

Sharû sat  motionless, as if he wanted to make himself invisible.

“It isn’t your fault, Sharû”, Ecthelion told him. “You didn’t start this, you only fought in it as thousands of soldiers on both sides.” He shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it any longer, you know my stance.”

Sharû nodded, but Ecthelion could see in his eyes that he wasn’t convinced.

 

Ecthelion climbed on the stage, his mother on his arm and clapped his hands. The conversations of the crowd ceased only slowly. So many had come that they had opened the doors to the garden and into the entrance hall to make room.

“My friends”, he said loudly using his commander voice that had been audible even in the thick of battle. “My friends, I’m happy to see you all tonight.”

Sharû stood a little out of the way and looked a little panicked, the only orc among elves, he would rescue him later.

“I want to introduce my mother Nivwen, some of you already know her. She is our gracious host tonight. Mother”, he kissed her cheek, “I thank you for everything you did and still do for us.”

The applause that surged up was so deafening that he didn’t understand his own words. Ecthelion smiled widely and bowed to his mother who had blushed. He could see that she was as happy as him. He knew that some of his people weren’t here today because they dreaded the tumult, it was different from the camp fires and he hoped to find a way to include them despite of that, but right now he couldn’t help it to bask in his friends’ happiness.

“And now”, he cried, “I don’t want to talk any longer. Let us make music together.” He led his mother off the stage and said: “Will you stay?”

“A little, maybe in the garden, there’s so many people in here.”

“I’ll accompany you.”

The conversations stopped completely when the first musicians started playing. Ecthelion didn’t know how many of the musicians among the Angband-Elves had stage experience, it would be new for many of them and it was different from sitting in a circle around a fire. But they were doing well and when everyone started to join in with the chorus, Nivwen gripped his arm tighter.

“Valar!”, she whispered. “That's something else.”

“Community.” Ecthelion smiled at her. “It’s important for us to know that we are not on our own.” They had made it to the garden where the crowd was less thick. “Can I leave you alone?”

“Of course. Take care of your guests.” Nivwen kissed his cheek and Ecthelion looked out for Sharû while he smiled and waved at the people around him. He found him with Silwen and Garam.

“When did you come?”, he asked in the next break between musicians.

He was sure he’d have noticed Silwen during his welcome speech, she had something that drew attention to her.

“We were late. My wife couldn’t decide which dress to wear.” Garam rolled his eyes and Ecthelion laughed.

“You look gorgeous, Silwen.”

She wore a dress of cobalt silk brocade with a pattern of peacock feathers and real, dark green feathers at the neckline. He kissed her hand.

“As I can’t claim I was never late for a party because I couldn’t decide what to wear, I won’t comment on that.”

“I hear you are a good customer. I wouldn’t mind contributing to your wardrobe.”

Ecthelion grinned at her. “You talked with Lelya? I think she would be very angry with me, if you’d steal me from her.”

Silwen shrugged and grinned back. “Worth a try.”

“Anyway, I’m not as good a customer as I was. I still enjoy well made clothes, but I’m not as vain as I was.”

Ecthelion became aware that Sharû was examining him closely and turned to him.

“Do you like what you see?”

He’d dressed up today, as the occasion demanded in his opinion. He wore blue, too, lighter than Silwen’s, almost turquoise.

“Maybe Silwen should sew for you.”

Sharû shook his head decisively. “I prefer leather.”

Silwen sighed theatrically. “Don’t bother, Ecthelion, these orcs are hopeless.”

Ecthelion laughed, but couldn’t return anything because the music started again. He just thought that he’d liked Sharû’s eyes on him. As if the musician knew his thought, he started to play a love song and for a moment Ecthelion lost himself in the thought of dragging Sharû into the next room and locking the door. Sharû’s lips on his, Sharû’s hands on his naked skin...

Ecthelion gulped and forced his thoughts back to the present. His body was reacting very obviously to his fantasies. But he couldn’t... he mustn’t! Maybe he could dare to approach him in a few years, Sharû and his men were getting more independent, and once his influence wasn’t as important to them anymore, he might be able to... but even then... did he really want to risk Sharû’s friendship? He shook his head. It was fruitless to worry about it now.

“Do you like it here?”, he asked when the song was over.

Sharû nodded, his eyes were wide and happy. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for the invitation.”

“You are always welcome, as are your men, though they probably shouldn’t come all together.” Ecthelion shrugged in apology, but Sharû didn’t take it amiss.

“Yes, that might be too much. So... you had an extensive wardrobe when you were younger?” Sharû smiled mockingly and Ecthelion grinned.

“I was a young noble with way too much money on my hands. I loved picking fabrics, try new styles – be admired. I still like looking at fabrics, but I know now that my money is better used elsewhere and my time, too.”

“But you wanted to put Silwen onto me?” Sharû was still smiling and Ecthelion laughed.

“A few pretty clothes wouldn’t hurt you. But I know you don’t like to feel like a trained animal. I don’t care what you wear.”

He wouldn’t have minded seeing him in nothing at all. Ecthelion bit the inside of his cheek. No, he wouldn’t say it, not even as a joke.

 

 

To Sharû

My brother is home from a longer journey and mother and he would like to meet you. Please visit us, if you can find the time.

Greetings,

Aiwiel

 

The message had waited for him when he’d come home from Ecthelion’s party. Sharû had allowed himself to wait a day before travelling back to Alqualonde, but today he had boarded a boat – the first they had built with the help of the Solosimpi – and two of his men had ferried him over. It had aroused a small stir, but the Solosimpi weren’t hostile for the most part and his men had taken a few things to trade with them.

He’d left them at the harbour and followed Aiwiel’s directions to a house in a backstreet. It was a workshop and Aiwiel smiled at him when he entered. It smelled pungently of fish. Sharû wrinkled his nose and she laughed.

“One get’s used to the smell. We make fish leather.” Sharû hadn’t known you could make leather from fish. “I’ll lock up quickly and we can go up. Mother and Faranwion are home.”

Sharû followed her silently to the living room where two elves waited who looked both very much like Aiwiel – apart from their hair, theirs was dark. Sharû wondered, if his father had been silver-haired once. “Mother, Faranwion, this is Sharû.” Their mother stood up slowly, her eyes trained on his face and stepped towards him. Sharû moved his shoulders nervously, her gaze was disconcerting and he didn’t know where to look. He jumped when she suddenly touched his cheek.

“You look like him”, she whispered and started to sob.

Sharû didn’t know what to do, how to comfort the crying woman. It had never crossed his mind that he might take after his father. Aiwiel embraced her mother and murmured softly to her. Faranwion caught his gaze and slid inward on the corner bench, offering him a seat without a word.

“I never knew my father”, he said softly. “He vanished when I was an infant. I didn’t want to believe it, when Aiwiel told us about you and your brothers, but judging from mother’s reaction...”

Aiwiel had sat down with her and she was dabbing the tears from her cheeks. “Please forgive my outburst. I didn’t expect...” She sniffled and shook her head.

“You don’t have to apologise. I didn’t know I resemble him as he was before...” Sharû stopped. “Can I do anything for you?”

He had imagined her as his mother’s rival – this woman who his father had loved first – but now he only saw how sad she was and although her openly shown grief was uncomfortable for him, it also touched him.

She shook her head. “I wanted to see you, wanted to hear from you what Aiwiel told us, but I don’t need that now. You are his son, without any doubt. My name is Arasiel, I should have introduced myself before assaulting you.” Sharû shrugged, he didn’t know what to say to that. “Can you tell me, how he died?”

“I...” Sharû searched for a diplomatic way. “It was an... easy death, his heart simply stopped beating. He... what had been done to him left deep scars, visible and invisible. He often said his skin feels too tight.”

Nothing of that was untrue and still he felt like he was lying. He couldn’t tell this sad woman that his father had died of grief for his mother. They sat silent for a moment.

“You... might do something for me”, Faranwion said, clearly trying to change the topic. “I heard that orcs do Maenais, too. This practice slid into obscurity shortly after we came here, there are some books in the library with old patterns, but no one knows the craft anymore, at least not in Alqualonde. I regret that now. I like the thought to record my travels on my skin. If I tell you, what I want, can you ink it for me? I’ll pay you, of course.”

Sharû was surprised, to say the least. “I can do that. Are you sure? Once it’s done, it can’t be undone.”

Faranwion laughed. “I know. Yes, I’m sure. It’s part of my culture, although it went out of style.”

He shared a wordless gaze with his mother who smiled at him. If Sharû had to guess, he’d have said she looked happy about it.

“As you wish. Work out what motive you want and tell me when you are ready.”

Sharû stayed a while longer. Their conversation was cautious. About their work, life on the Island, Sharû talked a little about Ecthelion and his people. He could see that Arasiel wanted to hear more about his father and was afraid to at the same time. Sharû didn’t intend to start the topic, it hurt too much to think what a happy life his father could have had here.