Sparks by Independence1776

For Pity's Sake

Nerdanel receives the news Maglor has returned from Middle-earth. Rated General.

This was written on March 1, using the following prompts from the B2MeM bingo game: market day (Economy) and "for pity's sake" (In a Manner of Speaking).

Read For Pity's Sake

Nerdanel swiped her hair off her face. No matter how tightly she bound it, strands always slipped free. She put her hands on her hips and stared down into the large leather satchel. What else? She’d packed her portfolio, full of sketches of her metal and stone work. Blank paper and pencils, in case of inspiration or commission. Her smaller works had already been packed into their crates and loaded onto the cart. All that was left was this, which wouldn’t leave her side.

She looked up when someone knocked on her studio door. It was barely past dawn, and only those vendors heading to the seasonal art market and other people whose jobs required them to be up early would be awake. And she couldn’t think of anyone who would be needing to talk to her at this hour.

Nerdanel brushed her hair off her face for the seventh time, resigning herself to a long day of fighting with it. (Maybe she’d cut it short again. It had been a few decades.) She pulled open the door, not bothering to peer through the curtain. She tilted her head, unable to recognize her visitor. “I’m sorry; how may I help you?”

The blonde woman in a gray dress-- where had she seen that color of gray before?-- said, “I bring important news, and I would rather discuss it in private than in the street for anyone to overhear.”

Nerdanel didn’t budge. “News from who?”

“Lady Estë.”

Oh. That’s where she’d seen that color. She stepped aside. It wasn’t often the Valar approached her. The Maia walked into the center of her shop and clasped her hands together while Nerdanel shut the door. “What is the news? It must be of some importance for you to come to me so early.”

The woman looked slightly nervous. “I am not the only one carrying tidings this morn. It is of grave importance--”

Nerdanel barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “You’ve already said as much. What is it?”

“Makalaurë has returned from Middle-earth.”

Nerdanel’s mouth dropped open. She hurriedly shut it, but kept staring at the Maia. Káno, here? “So Elrond found him.”

“He did indeed. Your son stood trial in the Máhanaxar last night. At dawn, his sentence was pronounced. He is remanded into Lord Elrond’s custody.”

Nerdanel snorted. “Is that all? His father was exiled for pulling a sword on his half-brother. My son--”

“Spent thousands of years in exile, with no hope of return, living among Men.”

“So his punishment is over?”

“Hardly. He has strictures he must follow. He cannot leave Lord Elrond’s lands, and if he does so with permission, he will be accompanied by guards. He is not free.”

Nerdanel nodded, thoughts racing. Should she see him? Did she even want to? Did he want to see her? What were the reactions of her friends going to be? Would she be forced to leave Alqualondë for her own safety, even though she’d lived there for millennia? How would this affect politics, or art, or the other thousands of strands that made up daily life here? “Thank you for informing me. Who else knows?”

“The kings and other rulers of the various lands. Within hours, the news will spread to the general populace. It cannot be kept secret.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to.” She paused. “But how did he reach the Máhanaxar without anyone recognizing him?”

“The Valar.”

Nerdanel bit back a grin. She did love a well-executed plan. Better to present something as accomplished than announce it beforehand and start a riot upon his arrival. She remembered far too well the whispers and outright attacks-- both verbal and physical-- Elrond had received when he announced the reason for his departure to Middle-earth. But people really shouldn’t have been surprised; she hadn’t been. He had, after all, always called Makalaurë Father.

Nerdanel sighed. “Thank you, again. If there was anything else?”

The Maia shook her head and vanished with a small crack of air. Nerdanel sighed and looked down at the satchel laying open atop her counter. Manning her booth at the market would be… interesting… today. But she couldn’t not go. Never let it be said that Nerdanel was a coward. Better to face everyone, knowing they’d be talking, rather than have people come to her shop looking for gossip.

And she would have one answer for them. No, she would not see her son. Not until she was ready, and that time was not now. She knew some would call her cruel, that others would tell her that she needed to do it for pity’s sake. But she did not pity her son, and not speaking to a person she disliked was not cruel. And while she may love Makalaurë, she did not want to give even an appearance of condoning his actions.

She would not avoid the market. She would not let what others thought rule her day. She had wares to sell, friends to see, different foods to eat, artists to converse with, and inspiration to gain.

Plus, she needed the money.

Golden Dreams in Golden Days

Narmincë and her sister talk about Narmincë's plans to study astronomy in the Years of the Trees. Rated General.

Many thanks to Pandemonium_213 for confirming I wasn’t barking up the wrong tree in my interpretations. This was originally written for B2MeM 2012.

In a nutshell, RAFA has always used the ideas set forth in “Myths Transformed.” I cannot, in a ‘verse that deals explicitly with modern-day Earth, ignore science. MT allows me that leeway. (For those who are unfamiliar with MT: the Earth is always round, the Trees were formed from the sun and the moon and not vice versa, and Varda makes a dome of stars over Aman in order to preserve the uncorrupted light solely in Valinor. The dome is removed after the Darkening.) I all but stated my usage of MT in RAFA when I said that Tolkien’s Silmarillion is inaccurate regarding the creation myths. This story simply makes it explicit.

Read Golden Dreams in Golden Days

My older sister stepped onto the old, gray, wooden dock, and it shook beneath her feet as she walked toward me. I sat up and twisted to dangle my bare feet over the edge, waves tickling my soles and occasionally splashing the hems of my brown trousers. “What is it?”

Meldë sat down beside me, arranged her dark red skirts so they didn’t get wet, and stared out over the water, to the inlet’s outlet to the sea. “Are you sure you want this, Narmincë?”

I glanced at her. “Why?”

“Because you can’t see the stars in Tirion, and you’re going there to learn about them?”

I looked at the golden light dancing on the waves. The light from the Trees was dimmer here, blocked by the Pelóri, and when Telperion bloomed, his silver light wasn’t strong enough to drown all the stars out. But it wasn’t enough for me. “Even Alqualondë doesn’t have an astronomy program at their university. It’s all agriculture and ocean currents and fish.”

“Tirion is mostly stone, architecture, and sculpture.”

“But it has astronomy. I’ll return home at the start of Yávië, for three weeks.”

“And then you’re off to Tol Eressëa and points far north of Alqualondë for half the year, with only your classmates and teachers for company.”

“That’s the only way to study the stars. We need the dark to see them well.”

“They aren’t proper stars, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Varda made her dome in exact replica of the night sky, and we have been assured that our observations are accurate. If need be, if we truly wish to, we can sail east, out of her dome, to make them. But no one has. What’s the point, when we know they’re correct?”

“The point… The point is…” She sighed. “Mother is concerned you’re too busy watching the sky to notice anyone down here.”

I lay back on the dock. Of course the conversation would eventually get around to this. Neither Mother nor Meldë really understood. “I know you’re happy you married right after you became an adult, but I don’t want to do that.”

“Too worried that finding a man tolerant of your interests in math and science will be like finding a needle in a haystack?”

I snorted. “I’m just not looking. You of all people should know I’m not interested in the so-called feminine pursuits. I want a career, and to do what makes me happy.”

“Even though it means learning to make your own telescope, down to grinding your own lenses?”

I ran my fingers along the dock’s weather-worn wood. “You’ve seen the one I put together from a kit. But to craft one that does more than resolve objects to three times what I can see unaided? I’m ecstatic! There is so much we don’t know, so much the Valar won’t tell us.”

“Maybe for good reason.”

I narrowed my eyes at my sister’s golden hair cascading down her back. “How could knowledge be bad? We’re part of Eä, Meldë. I don’t want to ignore it just because we live in Aman, in peace and in safety, where such knowledge is of little benefit. And there’s just something about the stars…”

Meldë laughed. “You and your dreams.” She lay down beside me. “Someone in this family needs to be less pragmatic. Never stop dreaming, Narmincë.”

I smiled and met her eyes. “I won’t.”

Negotiation

Makalaurë negotiates with Maitimo to get something he wants. Rated General.

This was originally written for B2MeM 2010 and has been edited somewhat from its original posting.

Read Negotiation

Makalaurë turned, a large mixing bowl in hand, as I entered the kitchen. “Maitimo! Please, can you finish making dinner for me tonight? I promised Mother and Father it would be done by the time they returned from Lady Vilyandolië’s poetry reading, but I completely forgot I was meeting Narmincë in an hour for dinner and a concert. ”

I raised a hand to stop his flow of words. “What will you do in return? You know you shouldn’t break your promises, especially to Father.”

His shoulders slumped and he nearly dropped the bowl. “Anything you want.”

“Even something unpleasant?”

“Yes!”

“Intervene the next time Father tries to pick a fight about my lack of interest in romantic and sexual relationships.”

“Fine!” He shoved the full bowl into my arms and ran out of the kitchen. I shook my head as I heard him pounding up the stairs. He’d regret the agreement once he actually thought about it, but he was my brother. This would be neither the first nor the last time we traded favors.

Plans and Determination

Narmincë talks to her fellow astronomers after the Darkening. Drabble. Rated General.

Thanks to Elleth for the beta!

Read Plans and Determination

Narmincë looked down the table at the professor. “There is nothing further that we can do. Finarfin has returned; society is far more stable than it was.” She gestured at the closed window. “What more would you ask of us? None of us are farmers. We no longer have the Trees or the Dome, and now we can confirm our observations.” Narmincë took a deep breath. “I for one will not give up my studies. I am leaving for Araman in three days. Our work has been disrupted enough. It is time to return to it.”

The other astronomers nodded.

Inferno

The Third Kinslaying. Rated Teens.

Many thanks to Elleth for the beta.

The Elrond POV section has been modified from the original double drabble I wrote for B2MeM 2009.

Read Inferno

I looked at my councilors, and then down at the politely-worded letter on my desk. “I cannot give the sons of Fëanor the Silmaril. Not after what they did at Doriath. They forfeited all right to it.” I sighed. “Furthermore, the Silmaril itself has blessed this place. I would harm my people by removing it.”

“They will come,” Aeglir said.

“Then we shall prepare! Have every household pack evacuation bags and have them practise escaping. Send out scouts and build defenses. We will not be taken by surprise, nor will we be vulnerable. This is my word until Eärendil returns.”

* * * * *

I stared at the letter. “Is Elwing mad? Does she not remember Doriath?”

Maedhros sighed. “Maglor, have they not driven all of us mad? The desire to have one no matter the consequences… Father was right to keep them locked up.”

“That's beside the point. She knows what we are capable of, yet she refuses to prevent the blood of her people-- of the rest of her family-- from being spilled simply because--”

“We killed hers. Is it not similar to why we went after Morgoth?”

I groaned. “But she isn’t planning to attack us. Just to defend herself and her people.” I pointed at the map Amras had brought into the room and spread across the table. “But the mouths of the Sirion are nigh indefensible. It is folly to think that she can hold us off.”

Amras said, “It will take months for their preparations to be completed. If we wish to attack with the least amount of trouble, it needs to be soon.”

No one said anything for a little while, staring at the stone markers on the map. I finally said, “We will send out scouts. We need more information than what our messenger brought back.”

* * * * *

Mother looked at us and then down at the brilliant jewel she held. After fastening the necklace around her neck and hiding it under her dress, she knelt, drew us into a hug, and kissed each of us on the top of our heads.

She released us, standing up, and led us outside, into the smoke and confusion, with people trying to run and others defending themselves, heading to the dock. I heard metal clanging against metal, people shouting, flames crackling, and squeezed Elros' hand tighter. When we neared the quay, Mother looked over her shoulder, let go of my hand, and directed us to hide in a nearby tangle of ropes and nets. We did so, and then saw her run to the end of the empty dock. Someone with red hair rushed past our hiding space, followed by someone with black hair carrying a bloody sword. Elros gripped my arm even tighter than I had squeezed his hand. But we couldn't help but cry out when Mother jumped. The Elf with black hair spun around, sheathing his sword when he spotted us. He walked to us, kneeling down, but swiftly moving aside to show us a white bird flying away from us with the Silmaril. Elros let out a tiny gasp.

Softly, the Elf said, “Look-- your mother lives still. But you have no one to take care of you now. Will you come with me?”

I looked at Elros, and then back at the man. And then at the bird flying away. Mother. She… she had left us. And there was no one else; we couldn’t live on our own. I finally stood up and helped Elros untangle himself. The strange Elf knelt down and we eventually let him embrace us, despite the blood on his armor.

* * * * *

I stared at the twins sleeping on Amrod's bedroll, curled together under a thin blanket Maglor had found for them. The sounds of the camp settling down for the night, the wind rustling in the trees-- none of it helped my mood.

Not only had we lost the Silmaril, we had lost Amrod and Amras. The only thing that helped was knowing they died defending each other.

It was such a pointless waste of life.

Maglor settled next to me on the ground, and I poked at the dying fire with a stick. He said, “What now?”

“I don't know.”

Flying

Elladan builds a hang-gliding bicycle. Rated General.

This drabble is set in late Fourth Age Tol Eressëa and was inspired by Russandol's birthday greeting to me last year. Thanks to Elleth for the beta!

Read Flying

Elladan ignored the worried look Elrohir was giving him. “I'll be fine, Elrohir.”

Elrohir shifted his gaze to the contraption next to his twin and raised an eyebrow. “First you build a hang glider that only lets you go downhill. Then you create one that'll let you stay up for hours. Now you attach one to a bicycle.”

Elladan grinned. “I listened to Gandalf's and Bilbo's tales of flying on eagles once too often. I'll figure out powered flight yet.”

After buckling on his helmet, Elladan mounted the bicycle. He pedaled off the side of the short cliff-- and flew.

The Unwilling

An Avarin tribe sails to Valinor. Rated General.

There is an oblique reference in here to something Maglor mentioned in Chapter 7 of RAFA.

Many thanks to Elleth for the beta. This was written using the first and third "A" prompts for B2MeM 2013.

Read The Unwilling

Elrond looked up from the novel he'd curled up with in his private library when Elladan entered, spotted him in the window seat, and said, “Have you heard the news?”

Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Which news? That Legolas and some of his people from Ithilien have decided to settle nearby? That Elrohir and Erestor are arguing again? That Lennel is pregnant with twins?”

Elladan shook his head. “An Avarin tribe landed in Avathar.”

Elrond nearly dropped his book. He sat up, placed a leather bookmark in the novel, and put it on the cushion next to him. “Why?”

“From what I've heard, they no longer feel safe in their own lands. Men have intruded too much into their territory, and rather than simply live in wary coexistence, they are now actively hostile. The clan claims they can no longer do the work they need to on Middle-earth. So they traveled here.”

“You haven't talked to them?”

Elladan said with a wry smile, “They refuse to talk to the Noldor. After all, their king is the half-uncle of the Kinslayer.”

“Ah.” Elrond rubbed his forehead. “Then we must wait to see how the rest of Aman responds, and if we will ever be able to ourselves. I doubt they will be the only Avarin tribe to sail.”

Picnic

Nerdanel, Fëanáro, Maitimo, and Káno go on a picnic. Rated General.

Thanks to Elleth for the beta.

Read Picnic

Nerdanel leaned forward, brushing the last crumbs of the seed cake off the red and white checked blanket into the green grass. She sat back and looked at her husband, who watched Maitimo reading a book of poetry while resting his back against a weeping willow. She sighed and said, “Why are you so concerned? He's young yet, Fëanáro. Leave him be; not everyone can be like us.”

Fëanáro turned his face to her. “You are right, of course.” He gave her a swift kiss on the lips and stood up. He waited until he was off the blanket to brush his pants off before swooping down and picking up Káno from where he played in a patch of dandelions gone to seed and singing softly to himself. “Time to teach you to swim.”

Káno giggled, grinned, and then laughed outright when Fëanáro tossed him into the air. Maitimo looked up then, shot his mother a grateful look, and went back to reading. Nerdanel, after watching her husband and her younger son toddle about in the shallows of the nearby pond, lay back on the blanket and gazed at the fluffy clouds scuttling across the sky, listening to the laughter and splashes of water, smiling.

The Time That Is Given Us

Over the years, Elrond and Arwen talk about Elros' choice-- and hers. Rated Teens.

In many ways, this story is a sequel to “Never Look Back.” It is also the sole reason I’d thought about writing an Elrond POV companion story to “Embers” that covered the Second through Seventh Ages. I eventually decided against such a massive undertaking, partly because of the length but also because of a lack of interest in covering events other talented writers have (and much better than what I would do). But there were stories scattered across the timeline that I still wanted to tell. Hence, “Sparks”-- and therefore a place to put this story-- was born.

The title comes from this line in Fellowship of the Ring: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Read The Time That Is Given Us

Arwen came into Elrond’s study, holding a book in her arms. Elrond looked up from the ledgers he was puzzling over. “What is it?”

She set the book down on the desk and sat in the leather-and-wood seat in front of it. “I’m reading a history of the founding of Lindon, and one passage jarred loose a question I’ve meant to ask you for a while now. But I kept forgetting, putting it off--”

Elrond smiled. “Out with it.”

“The book says you and Uncle Elros made your choice, but it doesn’t go into detail beyond that.”

Elrond sighed. He’d been waiting for her to ask this for a few years now. “And you want to know the details.”

“If you wouldn’t mind telling me.”

“I was rather upset, to put it mildly. I’d thought we at least would be together even though we’d lost everything else.”

“I know that much. But how were you offered the choice?”

Elrond leaned back in his chair, and studied his daughter. She was growing into a lovely young lady, headstrong just like the rest of her family, and beautiful enough that he’d overheard one young man her age saying to his friends that she looked like the portrait of Lúthien that hung in the main corridor. Yes, she was old enough to hear the ugly details.

“It was shortly after Father and Uncle took the Silmarils. The Valar had decreed that the survivors of Beleriand could travel to and live on Tol Eressëa if we so wished. That announcement caused much debate, among both the Exiles and the Moriquendi. Neither Elros nor I participated-- we knew we would not sail. Elros was especially reluctant, saying that it didn’t feel right.

“It was only a day later that we were called before the Valar. Not all of them were there, having better things to do. But Manwë and Mandos were, befitting their roles as king and doomsman.

“Manwë said, ‘You have heard the choice offered to the Eldar. Now you must make a choice of your own. Your parents, due to having both mortal and immortal blood, were offered either immortality or mortality. That decision is now passed down to you. Do not make the decision in haste, but go and contemplate which would be the best road for you.’

“Elros took three days to make his choice. We spent that time together, but rarely talking. We had agreed to not speak our decision to each other until we were both decided, and to not pester the other if one of us came to that choice faster.”

“How long did it take you?” Arwen asked.

“One day. I could see Elros struggling over it, as well as he could see that I wasn’t. But we were there for each other, and I kept our agreement. I went first, as the elder brother. My choice did not surprise him.

“His surprised me.

“I reacted rather badly. It was the cause of much conflict between us until a chance meeting with Father helped me through the anger. Our relationship was rocky for a while afterward, especially as Elros spent more and more time among the Edain. But we never stopped talking and listening to each other after we reconciled. We knew that harsh words would never be forgotten.”

“How did you discover that we would have a choice?”

“When Elros and I reported ours to the Valar-- the day after we had told each other-- Námo said, ‘Your children will have the same choice, Elrond.’ I do not know if he meant it as a warning, a kindness, or just pronouncing something he’d been told to. Nor do I care, Arwen. The end result is the same-- the choice is yours.”

Arwen nodded. “You made it when you were a young man. Is a similar age when we have to decide?”

Elrond shook his head. “Your brothers have not, and they are far older than I was. No, I believe you will not have to make that choice until Sauron is fully and finally defeated. Middle-earth will change then, and it seems to be in times of great upheaval that such decisions must be made.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it now, Arwen. I think that time will not come for millennia.”

She nodded, looking unconvinced. “Thank you. I know it hurts talking--”

“But you have the right to know.”

She grabbed her book and slid out of the chair. She waved it in front of him. “Is there anything else this skims over?”

“We’ll discuss it when you finish reading.”

She grinned and skipped out of the study.

* * * * *

Elrond looked over at Celebrían when she entered his study. He smiled at her and went back to watching Arwen talking to Elendur’s messenger in the courtyard. Celebrían joined him at the window and slipped an arm around Elrond’s waist. “What are you contemplating?

“Worrying about the future.”

From the exasperated expression on Celebrían's face, Elrond knew what would come out of her mouth next. They’d discussed this on and off since before their betrothal. But now it was no longer hypothetical. “Elrond, I cannot imagine her choosing a mortal life for anything less than love, whether of Arda or someone catching her attention.” Celebrían smiled and gestured out the window. “From what I see, Arwen is doing what you do-- corresponding with Elendur’s house because of the connection with Elros and a desire to know his descendants. It’s why Elladan and Elrohir occasionally ride with their patrols, yet I don’t hear you fretting about their choices.”

Elrond sighed and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “While neither of them have said anything, I think I know what theirs will be. Arwen… my heart tells me she may choose differently, and I fear losing her.”

Celebrían leaned into him. “You have feared that ever since Mandos informed you that they would have the choice. I cannot tell you I do not fear that any of our children will choose a mortal life, because it is not the truth, but I can choose not to dwell on it.” She looked up at a him, a stern expression on her face. “You cannot help but think of Elros and how his choice affected your relationship, and how you wish you had reacted differently. But we cannot change the past, and you know how not to react in the future if-- and I do stress the if-- that choice is made. But you are dwelling too much in the past and almost everyone thinks the way you do, that the time for choices is far in the future.” Celebrían put her hand on the side of his face and pulled him into a slow, lingering kiss. She stepped back when they drew apart. “Go talk to her. Assuage your fears as much as possible. And remember you are not the only one who faces grief if she forsakes immortality.”

Elrond nodded and followed Celebrían out of his study.

* * * * *

Arwen entered Elrond’s chamber, closing the door with a thump behind her, and joined him where he was leaning against the doorway to the balcony. It was a warm early autumn night, and the crickets were almost drowned out by the sound of rushing water.

“Father…”

“Is this what you truly want to do?”

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, her swallow hard. But she answered with a firm voice. “I love Aragorn, Father. I know this is not the choice you imagined me making, not after so long, but it feels right in my heart. This isn’t just about love, though some may think I am addled by it. That gives me no credit, and assumes I have no mind of my own.

“I am under no illusion that my life will be an easy one, especially when I live among Men. I will not stay here, and have you watch me fade.” She stared into the night, at the swirling waters shining in the moonlight. “Nor will I be content with being the wife of a simple Ranger, eking out an existence in the wilds. We both know Aragorn’s lineage, and that he may be content protecting those who need it here. It is a worthy pursuit, but he is destined for greater things.”

“Destined?”

Arwen glanced at him. “You know a time is coming when Sauron will strive to rule Middle-earth, even without the Ring. Gondor and Arnor will need a king.”

Elrond nodded. “Then that will be the condition on which my blessing your marriage falls.” He smiled crookedly. “I would not accept anything less, either.”

Arwen laughed and finally turned to face him. “You have taught me so much, Father, and learning my choice has distressed you. But now I must know the details I never asked about. How did Elros adapt? How did people accept him?”

Elrond took her hand and led her to the wooden bench Celebrían had carved several hundred years ago. “He had an easier time of it than you will, I suspect. Coming of all the major lineages of Men and being the son of those who successfully begged the help of the Valar meant rather a lot. It helped that all of the traditional lands were destroyed and they were traveling to Númenor to start anew.”

A wry smile appeared on her face. “And that he was pronounced their leader by the Valar, whom they had seen demolish said lands?”

Elrond chuckled. “That makes immediate rebellion less likely, yes.” He sobered. “But that didn’t mean there wasn’t trouble. He had to distance himself from Father, and partly from me, due to my continuing-- and rather outspoken-- beliefs. There were those who thought a young man who had little battle experience shouldn’t rule, that a proven leader should. In the end, he was renowned as a good and just king. As for adjusting to mortality… He didn’t find it much of a problem at first. He said to me once that it felt right. But he was young then, at the prime of his life. In his later years, when his body began to tire, he found it a bit more difficult to bear.

“But he understood death then. He said it would be a chance to rest, a reward for a life well lived. It isn’t easy, building a realm. But he never once blamed me, or hated me for not aging. He had embraced his path long ago. And he chose the time and place of his death, surrounded by his loved ones, while still whole in mind and body. He left gladly.

“I fear I still do not understand.”

Arwen kissed his cheek. “I do, I think.” She looked down at her hands and then out across the valley. “When I see Elros, I’ll tell him you still miss and love him.”

Elrond inhaled. “Arwen--”

She smiled at him. “I look forward to meeting him.” She sighed and brought the subject back to its original topic. “But Gondor will not be as welcoming. They are an established people, and proud.”

“They have forgotten much.”

“But they also have their own politics. Aragorn will be expected to marry, and many would prefer it be from one of their noble houses. And yet, I come from one nobler, a closer relation to Elros than any there could claim. I can and will use that to my advantage, as well as my ties to Arnor. I will not let them think I am some pampered Elven princess who needs to be waited on.”

Elrond raised his eyebrow. If Aragorn became king, if Sauron was defeated, she and Aragorn would take the Citadel by storm, him by proving himself, her by her quiet stubbornness. Woe betide those who underestimated his daughter.

Arwen chuckled. “I promise I won’t destroy Minas Tirith. But I will not be an ornament. I know my mind and my desires.”

Quietly, Elrond said, “I know.”

Arwen leaned against him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She said, “I love you, Father, and everyone in our family. Imladris, and my friends, and…” Her voice trailed off and she paused for an instant. But then she said, “My choice isn’t just about loving Aragorn. I could love him and still choose to be counted as an Elf. But I have lived a long time, and I know my heart. This is my world, here and now and a little beyond. This is my choice.” She looked up and met his eyes. “I know it grieves you, that it will grieve you to tell Mother. But I can make no other decision.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I had hoped, yes, but I could not decide for you, Arwen. That would deny everything I raised you to be: a wonderful, strong, brilliant, beautiful, brave woman.” Elrond kissed her forehead. “A queen.”

* * * * *

The quay was full of people, many of them wearing colorful, boldly patterned clothing and waving banners and streamers. It was a joyous day for many, but not for his family. He glanced over his shoulder to find Olórin talking with Bilbo and Frodo. He caught Elrond’s eyes and nodded slightly. Relieved he didn’t need to worry about the hobbits, Elrond turned his attention back to the crowd.

“There,” Galadriel said, pointing. She waved excitedly, leaning over the railing.

For both of them, it had been too long since they had seen Celebrían. For her father, it would be even longer. And Arwen… He still hadn’t decided how he was going to tell his wife.

After the gangway was lowered and the rush of people died down, he escorted his mother-in-law to the stone quay. Celebrían ran into their arms. It was too short of a time later when she untangled herself, looking around them for the other members of her family. “Where’s Father? And our children?”

Galadriel smiled. “Father will be coming shortly. He wasn’t quite ready to leave.”

Celebrían nodded, a fond smile on her face. “Him and those trees.” She turned to look at Elrond.

He gulped. “Elladan and Elrohir will come when their foster brother Aragorn is fully established in his role as the King of Gondor and Arnor. Arwen… Arwen married Aragorn. She made Elros’ choice.”

Celebrían closed her eyes and leaned against him. Elrond wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight while they cried.

First Meetings

Narmincë and Makalaurë meet for the first time. Rated General.

Betaed by the wonderful Elleth!

Read First Meetings

Narmincë set her notebooks on the table, and reached down to pull the basic astronomy text out of her bag. She hurriedly straightened when an opportunistic seagull dove for her peach pastry resting on the saucer of her cup of lemon verbena and elderflower tea. It squawked at her and returned to soaring over the square to look elsewhere. She sighed, dropped her book on the white stone table in front of her, and rubbed her temples.

It was a beautiful day, with a hint of a breeze and only scattered high clouds in the sky. Choosing a table on the café's patio was simple. But it meant she had to deal with the confounded birds she'd hoped had remained by the shore instead of being here in Tirion. She took a bite of her pastry before flipping open the textbook to the practise problems at the end of the chapter, opened one of her notebooks, and rummaged through her case to find a pencil. Time to study.

She made it through three questions before the girls sitting behind her suddenly started giggling. Narmincë rolled her eyes and then looked up when a shadow crossed her page. She blinked at the dark-haired man in a green tunic and black pants standing next to her table. Oh. That explained the giggling.

Prince Makalaurë smiled shyly. “Narmincë, would you mind if I joined you?”

Narmincë glanced at the astronomy textbook under his arm. Did he just want to study? But why with her? “Prince--”

“Just Makalaurë, please.”

Narmincë raised her eyebrows and said, “No, I wouldn't.”

He sat down opposite her and spread out his belongings before disappearing inside the café. He came out with a blackberry scone and a mug of hot chocolate. After he’d resettled himself, she couldn't help but ask the question she'd been wondering for three weeks. “Why are you even taking this class? I thought you're studying music.”

Makalaurë shrugged one shoulder. “Knowing the basics will only help my lyric writing.”

Ah. Narmincë went back to her homework. Makalaurë didn't interrupt her until he had a question-- and then he went right back to studying. By the time she had to leave, they'd exchanged only a handful more of sentences unrelated to astronomy. But when she stood up, Makalaurë gave her another shy smile. “Would you mind if I met you here again?”

Narmincë froze. If she said no, what would the political repercussions be? But everyone knew he wasn't one to use them (being far more concerned with his music than politics) and he'd done nothing more than ask for her help.

His eyes widened fractionally. “No, no. It's fine if you don't want me to. I just enjoyed studying with you, that's all. Some of this is frankly over my head, and it's your focus.”

Narmincë relaxed and then nodded. “Same time every week then, until the end of the semester?”

Makalaurë grinned. “I'll see you in class tomorrow.”

She smiled and walked away, dodging around the tables and other patrons to return her empty cup and saucer to the café's employees. A study partner, then. And it didn't hurt that he was attractive.

The Sea-hills

Elrond and Celebrían decide where they will build their new home in Valinor. Drabble. Rated General.

Thanks to Elleth for the beta. (This is the last “Sparks” story, but there is one more story in the ‘verse.)

Read The Sea-hills

Elrond leaned against Celebrían and looked over the ocean. She wrapped an arm around his waist and said, “This would be a wonderful place to build our House.”

Elrond kissed the side of her head, picturing it in his mind's eye. As much as he'd loved Imladris and liked their house on Tol Eressëa, now that the Exiles were permitted to move into Valinor proper, it would be wonderful to have space to sprawl as they never had been able to. The hills, the ocean, the sea breeze, the fertile farmland-- yes, she was right. This would become their home.