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Title: Silent Night
Author: Etharei
Rating: G
Summary: Each year the past comes to haunt the family of Elrond. But this time there are two who help them through the ordeal.
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, names and places belong to JRR Tolkein. No money is made from the writing or publication of this piece of fanwork.
Author’s Notes:
Nana- mother/ ‘mummy’ (despite preferring the word Ammë myself, I’m going use the correct Sindarin word)
~*~
It was that time of year again in Imladris.
Centuries ago the Lady of Rivendell had been carried home by her sons, bloodied and battered both in body and soul. Elrond had put forth all his skill in the healing arts to heal her, but whilst her body eventually repaired itself, her soul was beyond reaching. Months after the event the family finally gave up, and went with her to the Grey Havens. Elrond could only hope that she could find some peace in the Undying Realms, and would be there to meet him when he himself left Middle-Earth.
Whilst the ordeal had taken place over several months, every year on the anniversary of the day she had been brought back all the raw emotion would come out of the bowels of memory.
For Elrond the grief of his wife’s departure had nearly sent him to the Halls of Mandos, but love for his children and his duty as a Keeper of Vilya brought him back from the brink. Time gradually healed even the worst of wounds, except for the one day each year when it felt as if it had only happened yesterday.
Sitting behind his desk in the manner of one who intended to stay there for the rest of the night, Elrond gazed unseeing at the roaring fire in the hearth. He tried to avoid sleep on this day, for nightmares were thrice worse and virtually inescapable, but he had not been cheating his body of much-needed rest in the past few dqys.
Outside the weather was dismal. Rain literally poured out of the sky, so much so that the occasional flashes of lightning could barely be seen. Bone-rattling thunder echoed through the protected valley. Elrond idly wondered if Rivendell was going to be an overgrown swamp in the morning, yet couldn’t bring himself to be concerned with it at the moment.
Bad weather, increase in Orc skirmishes along the border, his best friends and most trusted councellors at Mithlond in a conference with Cirdan. Middle-Earth seemed to be enthusiastically rising to the occasion.
With a quick swallow he finished the cup of miruvor, yet the potent drink had done little to ease his spirit. In the first few anniversaries the family would gather together to take comfort in each other. Yet now his daughter spent more time in Lothlorien than home, and his sons usually barricaded themselves in their rooms, pretending that they were strong enough to face this.
Elrond knew they weren’t. He hoped that they would at least take comfort in each other, for he feared that if left alone the recurring grief would kill them.
Against his will sleep came over him, his exhausted body finally giving up, and the nightmares began.
He had sensed his sons arriving from afar, and had ridden out with Glorfindel to meet them. He had seen the bloody mess in Elrohir’s arms, hardly recognising his beloved wife. He had not known where to begin treating her. There wasn’t a part of her that was untouched, unbroken. He also had had to see to Elladan, who had been grievously injured in their venture into the Orc dens.
The blood, the pain, the loss, all came back to him in a devastating avalanche.
He found it hard to breathe, hard to want to breathe. He wanted to disappear into oblivion, and the darkness willingly claimed him, wrapping itself around him. All he could think of was his loss, and now all the grief in his life had come together to further sink him into shadow. The loss of his parents, his brother Elros, his mentor Gil-Galad. It was too much.
Suddenly he felt something… new. Its warmth reached all the way into his heart, reminding him that as much grief as he had suffered, there had been joy too. And love.
Slowly he retreated from the grasping darkness, shaken by how close he had come to the brink when he had thought himself strong enough to stay away from it. And the first thing he saw was steel-grey eyes gazing seriously at him.
In his wonder Elrond did not see the youthful face bearing a child’s innocence. He did not realise that this person was sitting on his lap. What he saw was the eyes of his father, and his brother, looking back at him accusingly.
He had promised his mother that he would take care of his brother. He had promised his brother that he would take care of Gil-Galad, whom they had both loved like the father they hardly knew. He had promised Gil-Galad that he would take care of his Celebrian. And finally he had promised Celebrian that he would take care of their children.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I seemed to have forgotten quite a lot of things.”
Estel smiled then, and nodded with a satisfied expression. Throwing his arms around the Elf-lord’s neck, he snuggled into Elrond’s somewhat shaky embrace. Sighing contentedly, Elrond held the small body securely to himself and went back to sleep.
~*~
Something drew her to Elladan’s room.
Normally it would be the noise, usually after midnight and when everyone was trying to sleep. But tonight it was the utter silence.
After tucking Estel into bed she had wandered the strangely empty halls of Imladris restlessly. She knew what day it was, after being informed by Glorfindel during the first year of her living in the House of Elrond. The last two years she had spent the day in the library, or else occupying Estel with something, so as not to intrude in the family grief.
But this time something drove her. She couldn’t sleep, and the library didn’t seem so appealing. Estel was asleep, Glorfindel and Erestor were not expected back from the Grey Havens for another week. In this loud storm embroidery would probably irritate her rather than calm her mind.
She had decided to head for her room and look for something to do. Her quarters were opposite Estel’s which were next to the twins’. And she had stopped at Elladan’s doorway.
Wondering if the silence meant that something bad had happened to the normally exuberant twins, she knocked lightly. Hearing no answer, nor any movement from inside, she carefully entered.
Two large forms were huddled together on the bed. Elladan and Elrohir still wore their day clothes, though the outer robes were lying on the floor. To Gilraen’s alarm the balcony doors were wide open, letting in wind and rain. Quickly closing them, she quietly approached the slumbering half-Elves.
Sympathy filled her heart at the sight: Elladan, the older, held his brother tightly, though his own face was streaked with tears. The front of both tunics were wet. She touched them lightly on the brow; their skin was cold yet sweaty. Long damp ebony hair were strewn over their faces. Shuffling closer she saw that their open eyes were blank with elven sleep, yet instead of the peace of good dreams they held horror. Lips moved soundlessly; Elrohir’s bloodied lower lip looked like he had bitten down on it hard.
Maternal instincts flared to life. Before she knew what she was doing Gilraen had sat on one side of the bed. For some reason they relaxed at her touch, and their trust in someone so new-come to their lives gratified her enormously. Without waking they shifted, so that somehow Gilraen found herself in the middle of the bed, resting against the backboard, holding a twin on either arm whilst crooning a soft lullaby.
Now that they were no longer trying to appear strong and suitably untouchable, she saw that in a sense they were still… children. Without the indifferent Elven mask and the burden of their years she could see traces of young, innocent Elflings. In her mind she thought she could see what they must have looked like when they were but a few years old. Their faces were identical, yet over the three years of her stay she had come to notice minute differences in their features. She could not describe these differences, yet she could now instinctively tell which twin was which.
On her left arm lay Elrohir, his face half-buried in her mass of mahogany hair. The Elf that was a terror to the various members of the household with his ingenious pranks and sense of humour. But in a cruel twist, she knew- from Glorfindel’s reports- that he was the accounted best tactician in Imladris; his skill at pulling of tricks and getting out of trouble gave him the ability to position forces in the most advantageous places.
On her right was Elladan, his arm around her torso, fingers digging into her skin. He was the more responsible one, probably taking after his father. A brilliant tracker, after having to chase down his clever twin on more than one occasion. From Glorfindel she learned that he was the stronger fighter, yet Gilraen suspected that his strength came from a sense of responsibility. As the elder he assumed that he should be the one taking care of his brother. Yet now, looking at his stricken face, she realised that he was the gentler of the two.
She wondered who the dominant twin is. It was generally believed that it was the older one, yet Gilraen knew this was not necessarily the case. In the case of the sons of Elrond, she suspected that it was Elrohir. Elladan was a natural leader, but after observing the two closely she knew that Elrohir, ultimately, got the final say. Or at least he would, except that most of the time he’d let Elladan make all the decisions.
As Gilraen turned the question over and over in her mind, the night wore on and their struggles intensified, though from the way they were clinging onto her Gilraen knew that it wasn’t against her. She could feel their heartbeats thundering as they fought against their nightmares. They moaned and sobbed, tears increasing by the minute. Occasionally the woman would hear a whispered word.
She froze, hearing a faint but distinct call for ‘Nana’. What was she doing? They probably thought she was their mother! What would they say upon waking up? What if Lord Elrond came upon them now? Estel and her could get banished from Rivendell!
Carefully she tried to pry the strong grips on her. But the twins only clung to her more, like she was a lifeline, and from the terror in their eyes, perhaps she was. Finally giving up and settling back down again, she fervently hoped that once the nightmares end they would relax, and she could escape before they awoke. Fool woman, her mother’s voice rang through her mind, this is what you get for going where you were not supposed to.
Helpless, yet strangely content, she sighed and resolved to apologise profusely to them and their father come morning. It would be most embarrassing, for sure. Still, she felt strangely… content.
With a start she realised that she had been smoothing back the damp hair from the identical faces. She stopped, but then realised that the twins had calmed slightly and shifted even closer to her. Well, as she was trapped there any way…
She nervously drew them closer to her. “Hush, little ones,” she whispered. “Nana is not here, but I am watching over you.” To be honest with herself, seeing them tormented by nightmares distressed her greatly. She wanted to comfort them, keep them safe. She felt the same way for them as she felt for Estel. This revelation startled her, especially so soon after losing her beloved Arathorn, but perhaps it was what she needed to keep living. She desperately needed a reason to live, at least for a while yet. She knew she could never take another husband. And what better reason was there than for the love of children, even ones not her own?
I love you, she said in the depths of her mind. I love you both, and I will take care of you.
As if they had hear her, both twins broke into a small but genuine smile. Their breathing calmed, their tears subsided. They even relaxed, though still held her tightly to prevent her from moving. Yet she no longer felt inclined to. She would apologise to the whole of Imladris in the morning, but now it was night, and the children needed comroting.
Sighing contentedly, she kissed Elladan and Elrohir on the forehead and drifted off to sleep.
~*~
“Ai, Erestor!” Grumbled Glorfindel as he staggered into the darkened House. Ignoring Erestor’s pointed look at his muddy boots and the puddle forming at his feet, he took off his drenched outer coat and gave it to a startled servant. “Whatever possessed me to listen to you and agree to come here in the middle of such weather!”
Erestor couldn’t help smiling at the fair-haired Elf’s tone. “Because Elrond needs us here, and our business at Mithlond was done anyway.” Quickly stripping down to their inner tunic and breeches, the two quietly made their way through the empty hallways. The Lord’s bedchamber was empty, and appeared to have been unused that day.
“He’s always in the study,” whispered Erestor.
As they turned to leave Glorfindel noticed that Elladan’s door was slightly ajar. Remembering that the twins were usually worse off than their father at these times he peered inside. His mouth dropped open in wonder, causing Erestor to try to see what was inside.
“Is that Lady Gilraen?” the counselor eventually asked, gaping as well.
“Aye, I believe so.” In the dim light of a single candle that had probably been forgotten, they could see the pale form of Gilraen lying fast asleep in the centre of the bed, both twins cuddled up to her. All three were smiling slightly. On silent feet Erestor went in and blew out the candle, and the two closed the door as they left.
“Now for the father,” murmured Glorfindel, though he was quite relieved that at least the twins were taken care of this night. Elladan and Elrohir had needed the touch of a mother-figure for so long, after their sister began spending more time in Lothlorian. Perhaps the decision to integrate Gilraen and Estel into the family had unexpected benefits.
They stopped outside the study door, glancing at each other with troubled eyes, both dreading what they may find inside. It was Erestor who opened the door, and they stepped inside, only to stop in their tracks.
The untended fire had burned low. A half-empty flask of miruvor stood on the desk. And Lord Elrond of Rivendell slept peacefully on his chair, a child cradled protectively against his chest. Shuffling closer, they saw that they too had small smiles on their faces. Wordlessly the two friends exited, taking the apparently unneeded miruvor, and closing the door behind them.
Outside, the storm clouds cleared, and the light of Eärendil seemed brighter than it had ever been for a long time. And far, far away, a lone figure looked up at the Star, and saw what it saw.
She smiled, content.
~*~