Rivendell, in a time before the Great Ring's rediscovery ...


Fragrant summer breezes drifted between pillars and around corners, and stirred draperies along the long corridors of Rivendell's stacked balconies. Bells hanging from the eaves chimed gently as they swayed in the currents, and swallows darted here and there in the coming dusk. The rich scents and sounds of the summer season carried in the air, and guests and residents wandered out of the great dining hall after a cheery meal where the servers had been particularly clever this night in serving and flirting.

Arwen's sweet smile had graced the Master's table that evening, she was attentive to Erestor seated on one side, and Findalor on the other, catching up on news of her father's settlement, as she was lately arrived from several months with her grandparents in Caras Galadhon. She had shared many adventures with the two seated beside her as comrades in mischief, and she had no more fervent defenders than her father's trusted aides. Her pale eyes wandered now and then to the large arching doorway, however Aragorn and the visiting ironsmiths from Dale seemed to be caught up in projects at the forges.

Her brothers were in residence for a change as well, and settled in the back corner of the dining hall they too caught up on news of life in Rivendell, while sharing tales with others about their patrols far and wide. Elrond sat at the head of the table in his usual chair, surrounded by guests along both sides, enjoying the perfect summer repast, witty conversation, and perhaps one glass too many of the light vintage that flowed freely from the server's jugs. He smiled a warm smile at Arwen, and kept an eye on his often-boisterous sons, all too rarely these days was his family gathered under one roof. He shifted a bit to accommodate a stiffening shoulder, and passed the bowl of fruit as it made its way around the table. Diners lingered this balmy night, and the open and comforting environment of Rivendell was at its most embracing in the deepening dusk of a perfect summer's evening.

As the meal ended, diners rose and casually made their way out of the large dining hall. Many strolled Rivendell's endless lengths of corridors, taking in views of the valley and the rushing river that changing colors and moods in the light of the setting sun. The cool, fresh mosses and grasses that formed the lawns, and the ripple and bubble of the river's flow along its rocky bed created a peaceful and joyous environment for the gathering dancers and musicians. The Elven love of a starry night would keep the community awake late into the evening, and sleeping in the next day.

Lines formed on the smooth lawn and dancers bowed to their partners as the harps and pipes started the old favorite tunes in the dim light of early evening. Sparks flashed and rose from the central bonfire that lit the dancers as they began the inter-twining movements of the first dance. Elladan led the line this time, his brother bringing up the middle, snaking beneath clasped hands and around twisting bodies in the complex patterns that challenged the dancers to step perfectly and quickly, bowing and turning precisely. The brothers could fall back into carefree youth under their father's roof and among the loving and caring inhabitants of their home settlement.

The days and weeks had flowed together into one long Elven dream during this peaceful stretch of summer days. The woes and cares of the outside world seemed far away to those embraced by Rivendell's aura of safety and comfort. Yet some were aware of the wider world and its grief and danger. Some inhabitants carried the burden of care and concern that kept the sleepy city safe. These patrols rode the borders and plains above the valley, escorted trading parties and watched the south and east for signs of growing evil. The Inner Council monitored the needs of the guests and residents, food supplies and seasonal tasks, and pondered rumors and news from the outside world. Elrond lived in two time streams through the summer, dealing with the minutiae of daily life, and lost in the slow passage of summer days. Swimming, riding, and taking turns with household chores kept his hand in community activities and his eyes and ears open for news from the outside world.

The dark-haired master of the settlement had parted from friends and guests after dinner to stroll the corridors of the complex in blissful silence. It had been a busy day of meetings and city business for him, and he longed for solitude and quiet for a change. His dinner companions had been witty, but wordy, and his ears longed for the sounds of nature rather than voices. The breezes lifted his dark hair and stirred his long sleeves; the cooling air eased his gathering frown and soothed his soul. His soft embroidered leather shoes made no sounds on the carved stone pavement as he drifted here and there, climbing ever higher as he made the rounds of the stacked houses that had grown over the centuries into an open and airy series of bridges, open corridors and stacked rooflines. He walked slowly, not consciously favoring a catch in his back and a sore shoulder, but moving carefully. Again he was paying for an injudicious afternoon ride the day before.

He looked at the worn designs carved into the stone steps as he climbed ever upwards. He had seen the city of Rivendell grow from the first foundation stone of the Great House, and he had pegged the roof beams together himself for the earliest buildings. He, with others, had felled the timbers, carved the pillars, and tiled the roofs in the early days, yet he still marveled at Rivendell's cumulative beauty and size. It had grown steadily for centuries and then settled into a comfortable maturity that fit its wild and natural environment, and yet it still embraced its inhabitants. With his children under his roof he felt a release from worry for the time being, and he felt a kindred sense of age with the weathered beams and faded decorations this quiet evening. Some of his happiest days and saddest nights had been spent here beneath the shingled rooflines and along the open corridors.

The Great House had settled on its foundations, and life, for the most part these years, assumed a peaceful routine. Imladris had withstood besiegement from Sauron and survived, it had hosted the combined armies of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and had rebuilt itself after those ravening years, and now it dreamed in peace and prosperity. Time flowed past them in eddies and waves, seemingly to back up, then curl around itself as residents and guests lost track of all time except that marked by the sun and moon. Scholars noted the days and marked the seasons, while Rivendell basked serenely in its secret valley.

Elrond was aware of how the Ring of Power, Vilya, preserved and protected them all here deep in the valley. He felt a little shudder, as he always did when thoughts of the Elven ring crossed his mind. It waited deep in its cave for his attention and affection, but he left it secreted there, well away from any temptation. He stayed away from it as much as he could, though its siren call haunted him sometimes in the night, and drew him to the cave beneath the city. Its call was always at the edge of his mind, beckoning and enticing, and seeking his energy and life force even as it preserved them all against the passage of time.

He ran a trailing hand along the carved railings of this older section of the settlement; the twining leaves and vines were a favorite pattern. A similar design flowed around the sleeve cuffs of his robe. Faded and soft, it was a favorite older robe he had chosen for the evening. The rich colors were mellowed and softened; its embroideries were delicate and still glimmered slightly with metallic threads laced through. It suited his mood tonight; he thought he too felt a bit faded and comfortable this evening. He smiled at the weather- smoothed leaves carved along the railing and smooth feel of the worn wood.

Aragorn, with Elladan and Elrohir, had arrived at Rivendell yesterday, along with Glorfindel, escorting Arwen home from the Golden Wood. Elrond had asked his sons to stay a few days to rest, and share the news they bore. He wished to experience more than a hurried conference in the stables. Their drawn and tired countenances spoke of their long ride and they were all were mud-stained and weary after the journey. They agreed to rest a few days under his unwavering, but caring glance. Aragorn was convinced to stay a few days as well with a gentle arm around the shoulders and warm smile.

After the warm embraces of his dusty and tired children they adjourned to their chambers to unpack and settle in. Elrond and Glorfindel climbed the stairs to the great house deep in conversation and arm and arm. The homecoming group was welcomed by many as news spread of their arrival, Elrond's family was nurtured and embraced by the Household's staff and managers, and they enjoyed the love and guidance of many surrogate parents. The sad loss of their mother was somewhat compensated by the showers of affection they received from those around them. Aragorn received the respect and care due a trusted foster son of the Master of the House, and Glorfindel was well liked by all for his wisdom, grace and warm and loving nature.

Willowy Arwen, tough as whipcord, and as athletic as her brothers, and Elladan and Elrohir, all assumed the duties of their stations and more, and none doubted that the royal blood of men and the most esteemed lines of Elven ancestry formed their characters. Their intelligence, love of life and exuberant energies were nurtured and refined by Celeborn and Galadriel in the Golden Wood, and they were deeply influenced by their loving and encouraging father. He smiled as he strolled the open corridors as he thought of his friends and family at home again under his roof.

He realized he had slipped his hands into the deep pockets of the outer robe as he strolled the corridors. Another reason he liked this old robe was because it had roomy pockets. Tonight he felt a smooth pebble and several fragrant leaves that would scent his fingers as he touched them, treasures from the last time he had worn this robe on a riverside walk. He held the pebble in his fingers and caressed its cool surface. Red lines ran through the gray of the stone and he remembered it also had crystalline veins. It fit his grip perfectly as he turned it in his fingers. The leaves had dried but would still leave their spicy scent on his fingers.

From his earliest childhood he had carried small treasures here and there in secret pockets and pouches. Smooth pebbles from walks along the beach with his mother and brother Eros, and later when captive at the court of Maglor he had secreted a bracelet of his mother all the years he was there. He would stroke its milky gems in the darkness of night and weep with the weary sadness of a lonely child into his pillow, he was holding the bracelet as he saw her leap into the ocean from the cliff's heights, and he had just thrust it into his pocket when the soldiers of the invading forces plucked him up and rode away with him as hostage. Though Maglor was kind to the boys, their stay at his court was strained.

The bracelet still lay in a velvet pouch in the desk drawer in his study, next to the small carved box that held the faded ribbons and small bells from his wedding day. He was content to know the things were there, but rarely opened the drawer. Too many sad memories flew out when that drawer was opened.

Elrond climbed slowly up the shallow steps, unconsciously choosing the gentlest way upwards. The broad shallow steps curved and passed open rooms and other corridors. As he reached one of the highest balconies he sat on the broad bench that overlooked a rushing spillway of the river. Settling in, he leaned back and laid his arms along the back of the bench, and sighed. His shoulder was continuing to stiffen and bother him, but he put that pain out of his mind.

Relaxing into the evening, he felt the worn wood beneath him, the stone flags at his feet and the cooling breezes on his face. They were stronger at this height and above the river. He could hear the river's noisy song as it rushed over the stony bed and poured down the series of waterfalls along this side of the complex. The sounds were soothing and refreshing. He breathed deeply of the subtle scents and let the evening wash over him.

The rose of the sunset had darkened into purple and gray and the sounds of harp and pipe were faintly audible above the rush of the river. Dancers would be intertwining in chains and lines on the lawns; others would be finding grassy and secluded areas to snuggle or watch the stars come out one by one. A summer night like a thousand other summer nights at Rivendell, this season lent itself to the waking dreaming state that suited Elves at peace.

Elrond thought to himself that in summer his settlement was at its most spiritual, most like their cousins in the Golden Wood at Lorien. Rivendell slept through the cold damp winters, came to life in the intermediate seasons and gloried in the warmth of the sunny afternoons and the balmy nights of summer. Yet the two settlements were as far separate as they could be as well. Lorien dreamed through all the seasons with great detachment from the world, guarding its borders with savage intensity, while those resident at Rivendell tilled the soil, ground the grains, tended the animals and welcomed traders. Celebration of the change of seasons was ingrained in the life cycles of Rivendell.

He turned the stone in his fingers, feeling its coolness and round shape in a focused meditation. Lost in dreams he found himself on the seashore at Sirion with his mother Elwing and twin brother Elros. As children they had often wandered the beach and listened to the seabird's plaintive calls under their mother's watchful gaze. His father Earendil sailed long at sea leaving them ashore. Elrond knew the sadness in his mother's eyes reflected that of her heart as they dipped toes in the rolling waves and she looked out along the horizon for approaching sails. He saw that she watched the seabirds in flight with envy of their wings and soaring freedom.

Sitting in the strong breezes from the sea, he would sit leaning against her knees as she plaited a circlet for his head from sea grasses and tiny flowers found at the edge of the beach. As Elros raced down the beach with hunting dogs baying along side she would settle the woven crown upon his head and rest her hands on his shoulders. She dubbed him the king of the seashore and all the waves he could see with a kiss on top of his head. They tumbled in the waves and raced the tide as it swept in and out.

Elwing had often wondered at the strong personalities of her twin sons, as different as night and day she would say to them. Twins they were, but each independent and of a single mind. Elros had chosen the path of mortal man when he was allowed to choose, he was long passed away now and a name in the historical lineage of kings. Elrond had chosen his Elven kin when he was called forward to make his choice. He thought of his own dark haired twins, inseparable and of a like mind in every thought and deed. How strange life was in the flow of days.

Something caught his attention as he wandered far from the earthly plane, and focusing, he heard a footstep nearby at the edge of his consciousness. Normally another stroller would respect his privacy and enjoy their tour of the open corridor without disturbing him. However the stroller paused and waited patiently and quietly. He recognized the aura of Alfirin, a scholar from Lorien's woods, yet one well-traveled and sometimes resident at Rivendell as well. He sifted through memories of the sea and his mother and brother, drifting past thoughts about his own twin sons, and slowly rejoined his body resting on the balcony. He smiled a slight smile and shook his head slowly as he returned to the weight and reality of his physical form. He sat up and returned the stone to his pocket.

"Greetings Lady Alfirin" he said softly as he focused on the tall figure before him. Her pale flaxen hair caught the last rays of the rosy sun as it set beyond the canyon's rim, strands lifted in the breeze around them. Her blue eyes were heightened by the shifting colors of her robe, now green, now blue in the fading light. Silver threads picked out a woven pattern as she moved. He beckoned the bench beside him. "I have not seen much of you since you arrived," he remarked, "You have been buried in the scrolls and manuscripts or lost deep in the plant rooms at the greenhouses."

He smiled as her scent reached him, soft and sweet, it was that of a small flower found only among the roots of the Mallorn trees and nowhere else. Arwen favored a similar scent, and his wife Celebrian had worn it as well. The fragrance was inextricably tied to his family and past memories, yet it always made him remember the better times, and brought a smile to his lips.

Alfirin sat and smiled back at him, his erratic aura touched hers, and she always found those unique patterns fascinating. She laid her arm along the edge of the bench and picked up a loose and curling strand of his dark hair. "So, you escaped from Lindefal's attentions today did you?" she asked, referring to the simple braid that gathered most, but not all, of the raven fall of waving locks. She laid it along the rosy fabric covering his shoulder. Silver charms jangled softly as she moved. "I barely escaped his grand plans for my appearance this morning indeed," he smiled. "Have you found the obscure cure you seek yet?" he asked. She nodded no and shrugged, "I can stay until it is found, we both know it is recorded somewhere in Rivendell's library." His hand reached out and clasped hers as it lay along her long thigh. Tiny silver flowers chimed again as they dangled from a slender chain wound around her wrist. He lifted her hand and gave it a small shake to jangle the tiny charms again. Their gentle sound was sweet and amusing. She raised her hand to his cheek and touched it softly, and then laid her hand on his shoulder. She gave an affectionate squeeze and a wry nod of her head. "You seem preoccupied these days, my Lord of Rivendell." She sensed a disturbed flow of energy and discomfort, but dared not proceed further without permission. Perhaps later she might seek to repair the damage.

He looked at her and smiled, remembering past encounters with this healer from Lorien, she was especially sensitive to auras and very adapt at healing manipulations of disturbed energy flows. Her demure professional demeanor hid a cheerful and prankish personality. She would dance the grass off the lawns he had told her at their last meeting, when he had collapsed onto a bench panting as she whirled away into a new intertwining line. The long evening of dancing had not affected her energies as she kept him amused later that night nearly til dawn amidst the sheets of his oversized square bed.

"Healer Thaladorn asked me to invite you to share ale with us tonight, and perhaps more if you were of a mind." Her invitation was offered with a twinkle in her eye and a blush on the cheek. "He is just back from a plant gathering foray and brings a small amount of lanfalas with him on this trip. He used a variation of the formula and wishes your opinion on its quality. We are trying to cultivate the ingredients in our greenhouses, however you know how finicky those plants can be. We may have found plants in that family group with similar properties that work nearly as well." Her hand stroked his tired shoulder and the invitation for further pleasure was underlined by her gentle caresses.

Her offer was tempting, and he was thinking of how pleasant a diversion this could be when a twinge of his shoulder reminded him of this temporary disability. They were healers; perhaps a treatment could be managed between friendly conversation and a tumble in his scented sheets. Thaladorn had delicious dark eyes and a pout to the lips that was enticing. His skills ranged from the most delicate blending of medicines to the necessary strength and refinement of skills needed to reset dislocations and broken bones. These sensitivities were also expressed in more the gentle intimate arts as well.

It had been some time since he had shared an evening with either of these frequent guests. The little buzz of anticipation starting at the back of his mind was interrupted by another familiar sensation. A tickle came to him along the edge of his aura, and by the green and mossy scent, and the familiar pattern of energy he felt, he recognized Galenbrethil nearby. He heard her footstep on the stairs and she came around the corner.

"Good evening, Galenbrethil," he greeted her. "Good evening, My Lord," she responded softly, "and greetings Alfirin." She stood in the familiar position of head tilted to one side and a slight smile on her lips. Her deep gray eyes were affectionate and concerned in their gaze. She held a small glowing lantern in one hand and a small wooden healer's case in the other. Dark hair fell over one shoulder in a complex braid, and she still wore the loose apron of a healer. He opened his eyes wide at this sight, and his eyebrows rose in question. She was not at the Great House for the dancing tonight.

He had not visited with her either for some time now. She taught classes or sorted new plants in the greenhouse, and he had toured the long greenhouse aisles only briefly or taught classes in medicinal herbs and healing himself. She and Findalor continued to relish each other's company and had pledged devotion to each other, but had not come to see him about marriage yet. There was time for those vows later he hoped. He loved them both and desired peace and happiness for his old friends and lovers.

He and Galenbrethil had noted each other's passing in the aisles with a nod, or had felt the presence of the other in greenhouses, but had had no chance for conversation recently. There were many visitors learning new medical skills or plant lore under the guidance of Galenbrethil, Cirgalad and the greenhouse managers. She rarely came to dinner at the Great House anymore. Alfirin and Thaladorn had spent many hours with her in study these past few days.

He looked at her skeptically; they had been friends and lovers too long for him not to know that her sudden appearance in working garments was no coincidence. "You look well," he said, from his sprawl across the bench. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, folded his hands, and looked at her directly. She glanced at Alfirin and after a pause said, "Erestor tells me you are not sleeping and are restless," she replied gently, her piercing eyes taking in his appearance. You do not look well," She tsk-tsked, and said, "Your eyes appear tired and you are pale. Lindefal says you injured your shoulder yesterday." Elrond had already heard Erestor and Lindefal's fussing remarks today, now it seemed they had sought reinforcements tonight. Erestor had already tut-tut-ed about the danger of yesterday's race at dinner tonight. Lindefal had more time to worry over him in these lazy days of summer when the schedule was routine and all had time on their hands for relaxing and enjoying life.

Elrond sometimes thought that Lindefal enjoyed fussing over the Master's Chambers, and the Master, as a hobby as well as a calling. Indeed, the library had been thoroughly cleaned and inventoried, mislaid items found, the study tided and swept, and the bedchamber cupboard's contents had been aired, sorted, repaired and laundered. Again, for the countless time, Elrond had rescued his favorite worn riding leggings and jacket from the ragbag. He thought to himself he needed to find something to occupy his devoted friend's time for a while here in midsummer's lazy days. His wandering attention was drawn back to quiet figure seated beside him and the tall figure standing before him. As patient and single minded as a stone he had characterized Galenbrethil. She had the patience of the ages when she dealt with the dark haired Lord of Rivendell. Alfirin sat taking in the scene quietly and assessing the situation between them.

Ceding her position to the privilege of the resident healer, she rose and with a last warm grasp of his hand, she said, "Perhaps tomorrow evening then? Keep us in your thoughts." She bowed with grace to Galenbrethil with a warm smile and wandered off along the corridor into the darkening evening. Galenbrethil watched her move along the corridor and disappear around the corner. With a slight smile she turned to the dark haired Master of the House and said, "I am guessing my timing is not the best this evening, I apologize if I interrupted anything." He shrugged, trysts and intimate gatherings were loosely organized and arranged at Rivendell, rebuffs were easily forgiven and previous arrangements acknowledged by all. The evening dimmed into darkness and the music from the dancing on the lawn wafted along the corridors.

Galenbrethil sat beside him on the broad bench, facing him and gathering her feet beneath her. She set the small lantern on the balcony railing and it lit their faces in pale flickering light. "Erestor and Lindefal were very concerned about your shoulder. May I?" she asked, holding her slender hands before her. He frowned at her in dim light, the wall lanterns this high in the city had not been lit yet. "I am not in the mood for this." She smiled, "Why are the physicians the worst patients? I just heard you the other day with your class explaining the importance of touch and sensitivity when working with someone who is ill." Her hands turned slowly in the warm summer air, "You know these hands, you have known them for three thousand years. Have they ever done anything but good for you?" She waited patiently for the permission to touch from a conscious patient as was considered proper in a non-emergency healing situation. Elrond knew his own mind, and could be very stubborn. He could say no, and mean it.

She presented her hands palms up and raised an eyebrow in question. He nodded slowly with a frown, and sat upright. She gently laid one hand on his thigh and the other around him, moving her hand gently along his spine. He felt the touch ever so slightly, but her aura created ripples and eddies in his own energy field. She closed her eyes as she concentrated on what her hands told her. She read his aura as it reacted to hers. To an observer they appeared to sit quietly side by side, touching as old friends might, however streams of information flowed from one to the other as he relaxed and she probed deeper with hand and mind. Their long association gave them an intimate bond, which aided her searching touch. Her hand lingered over his shoulder, touching it ever so gently, sharing energy and realigning the damaged flow slightly over the injury.

She finally sat back and opened her eyes, with a sigh and wry smile. She folded her hands back into her lap. "I hear you won the horse race yesterday, but that it was a close call. The course you chose was difficult and demanding, I am surprised the grooms allowed it." She shook her head, "But even I know that the horses are kept at battle- ready always and work hard on the border patrols." She shrugged, "Your strained shoulder would tell me the tale if Lindefal had not already done so. Gossip expands the story even more. You remain famous for your riding skills, but at what cost? " She tsk-tsked.

He pursed his lips and gathered his thoughts. "The horses were evenly matched, and some of the best we have ever produced, either could have pulled ahead in the end. The last turn and jump was, um... difficult." He smiled a small smile in pride, the stables at Rivendell were famous for their outstanding inhabitants, and the Elven Horses there had lineages that had been managed carefully for centuries. The best bloodlines stemmed from the sturdy mounts brought at the founding of Rivendell from the seaside settlements of the Grey Havens and Gil-galad's stables. Hardy beasts brought from Ost-en-Edhil by survivors brought agility and intelligence to the mix. The rich, mineral laden grasses of the valley and careful management had brought the horses of Rivendell up in size and stamina, and they were strong hearted and fearless from their careful training and nurturing. Elrond had ridden a dark gray mare in the race, one that reminded him of his favorite mount long ago at Gil-Galad's court. She carried those ancient genes within her, and he had adopted her as his second mount as he saw her beloved ancestor reappear in her appearance and personality.

Arwen's beloved Asfaloth was of this same bloodline, and he truly understood the close bond between his daughter and her extraordinary mount. A well matched Elven rider and a sensitive Elven horse moved as one with joined thoughts, and perhaps a spoken word for clarity. Arwen and Asfaloth were nearly inseparable when she was resident at Rivendell. Her love of riding was more indulged at her home there than in Lorien, where she spent much of the year with her grandparents. The grooms welcomed her cheerful smile and taught her their skills with no reluctance. A smile of thanks from the Master's daughter could melt the gruffest of hearts.

Galenbrethil's soft voice broke his reverie of studbooks and bloodlines. "Elrond, are you well?" she asked. "Your thoughts wander tonight." He looked at her again, turning his head brought a twinge to his shoulder and neck. His mount had turned quickly at the bend in the river and had leapt the fallen log after the split second twist and turn. In the fallen brush and gravel of the riverside the two horses had moved just inches apart along the gravely banks. He had pounded past the goal line in the race yesterday, only a nose ahead of the head groom and his mount from the second bloodline they were developing in Rivendell's stables.

Elrond's centuries of riding skills had glued him to the lurching mare, but he suspected the twist and leap had done him in with its awkwardness. Cheers from the sidelines had greeted the difficult finish and he imagined he was glad he had not seen the event, in the actual rush of the race it was over in a flash. He himself had examined the horses over later in the stables, checking for injuries and strains, giving little thought to himself until later that night. He was still in the stables when his sons and Aragorn arrived, and he spoke long with them there before they headed to the house. A long soak later in steaming water had soothed tight muscles. The late evening and busy next day had not allowed him to rest the shoulder as he should have. It was stiffening even now as he sat still and the evening grew cool.

Galenbrethil opened her small case and removed a fist sized pottery jar. This is for you, come along and I will apply it. You should rest a few days. He smiled a slight smile at the medicine and her at mild scolding. He knew he was a difficult patient, he knew Lindefal and Erestor worried over him, and he was grateful again for a thousandth time that his inner circle watched over him with such love and affection. He laid a gentle hand on hers and said, "Thank you." She unfolded her long and graceful legs and held out a hand for him. He rose and they moved slowly along the balconies back to the Great House as the music from the dance rose to meet them and entwine them in ancient song. After all, he had to do something to ease the shoulder strain; Alfirin and Thaladorn would be waiting for an answer to their invitation.

Lindefal arranged breakfast the next morning in the study and the clatter of pottery awoke the entwined sleepers. Elrond found he tasted medicine on his lips and his long hair was stuck to his face where the creamy substance was smeared as well. It did not have an unpleasant flavor. He noted his shoulder felt less stiff and painful as he shifted in the pile of snowy pillows and sheets. He found himself entangled with Findalor's long legs, and Galenbrethil's slender hand lay along his side, embracing him in her sleep. He remembered that she had applied the creamy medication in a soothing massage and had been really working out the tenseness as the muscles relaxed when Findalor returned to report from the evening patrol. He sat and ate bread and cheese, watching the treatment as he enjoying foamy ale while they exchanged news of the day between them.

The late hour encouraged old memories and the vigorous massage from Galenbrethil's strong hands led to more playful activities between the old friends. Elrond had missed intimacies with these two souls he dearly cared for. Galenbrethil had forgotten how tiring a grapple with Elrond's uncontrollable aura could be, and rolled over grasping the sheets and blankets over her head. Findalor slept on deeply and peacefully, his days on patrol where he was alert even in sleep were countered by complete abandonment within the safe walls of the city. Elrond thought no one could sleep as soundly as Findalor when he was home.

Elrond rose and gathered a robe around him as he descended the stairs to his study. Midmorning sun filtered through he trees and across the patterned floor as the sun's rays picked out the ancient designs in the tiles. The warm aromas of breakfast made him realize he would enjoy dining today. Perhaps his busy night was a contributing factor, he would never impose on Galenbrethil and Findalor now unless invited, but he welcomed their presence and enjoyed their company at any opportunity. As he sat at the table and leaned in the sniff the covered dishes, his sleepy bed partners wandered down the stairs to join him.

Galenbrethil asked about his shoulder, and with a flex or two he realized it was much better, and told her so. She smiled and tucked into her breakfast. Findalor was dressing as he stood; he had the day patrol to organize and reports to hear. He ate standing and left with a cup of steaming tea in his hands. Galenbrethil gathered her apron and shoes and left soon after, toast and jam in hand. She had classes to mange this day as well, they had many here to study the healing arts this summer, and her schedule was busy at best.

Elrond climbed the stairs and dressed formally for the day, and Lindefal gathered his hair in complex braids with silver clips. There were several meetings today and household business would keep him moving around the complex all day. Erestor had already been by with lists of assignments and chores for the day as well. He changed shoes at the last minute to accommodate the walked he would be doing, and wandered down the stairs to the first gathering in the council room. The day promised to be sunny and bright, and he wished he were headed to the swimming pool instead of work. Sighing he reminded himself, "Such are the demands on leaders." The hours stretched out into late afternoon, he ate lunch on the go, and found himself looking forward to the evening bells.

He was splashing water onto his face and hands in the council room as the evening bells called the community to the evening meal. He brushed back errant strands of hair with damp fingers and stretched tall with arms outthrust. The day had both lasted long and flown by, and he noted the lengthening shadows across the floor of the hall through the open doors. He was glad to note that his shoulder was still slightly stiff, but much improved after last night's treatments. Perhaps Alfirin's touch would complete the cure. He had indicated to Erestor whom to seat beside him tonight, it remained to be seen whether his wishes were met by his sometimes willful steward. Dinner was always a surprise and sometimes a challenge, but always carefully orchestrated by the clever Erestor.

Elrond strolled through the paved courtyard and took the long stairs upwards to the dining hall, joining the flow of inhabitants heading to dine together in community. Cheerful conversations and savory smells drew them all upwards and through the wide doors into the large hall. His first sight was that of Elladan standing on his usual distant corner table with arms waving in some story or other, and Elrond stood with a fixed stare that reached across the hall and settled on the broad shoulders of his son in that magical parental fashion. A guilty look over the shoulder was followed by a quick leap down, and a general settling of the noisy group around the table.

He nodded to Arwen in her seat halfway down the table and took his chair at the head of the table. He was pleased to see that Alfirin took her seat on his left and Thaladorn took a seat on the right. He sent a warm smile and a grateful nod down the table to Erestor as the steward took his seat, a friendly smile acknowledged the thanks for the favor. Alfirin looked particularly fair this evening in a simple pale green gown with embroideries of the same color glinting in the lantern light. Silver threads shot throughout the design flashed as she moved. He nodded to her and greeted her warmly. She inquired about his shoulder and offered further treatments if desired. With great formality he accepted her invitation.

Thaladorn carefully brushed his dark hair away from his face and settled in at the table with a smile to those next to him. Elrond had always had a fondness for gentle Thaladorn, quiet and studious, fair of face and refined of manner, few knew of his true rapier wit and dry sense of humor. Fair Alfirin and dark-haired Thaladorn were pledged in devotion but had not yet wed, content to spend the years together in trust and love until their time came. They had already decided to wed at Rivendell when the time came, with their beloved friend Elrond presiding.

Dinner passed as a tantalizing tease between the three, with double entendres abounding, and some careful massaging of feet under the table. Elrond had not dallied through dinner for some time, and felt a bit racy as he sat at the head of the Master's table with attention for none but those beside him. Diners noted his warm smile and cheerful composure; the Master's mood could often influence life in the community. The race was still subject for conversation, and the guests of honor were evaluated and discussed as well. The savory meal was delightful, and the light wine flowed, with a server finally settling themselves behind the Master for frequent refills. Alfirin thought that no one made wine like the wine makers at Rivendell, and she believed the love and compassion of the community expressed itself though the bubbles and fizz of the wines. Thaladorn toasted them glass for glass, and the rose in his cheeks grew to match the ruby cloak around his shoulders.

As the dinner closed and guests and inhabitants rose to promenade along the corridors or gather on the lawn for dancing and star gazing, Elrond bowed to Alfirin offered her his arm. With a smile she took it and held out her hand for Thaladorn. Elrond led them on the long way around to his staircase and they climbed the internal carved stairs above the library as the musicians struck up the first dance tune for the dancers. The sounds carried faintly to this side of the house, mixed with the sound of the many waterfalls and merry rushing of the river below the Great House.

Alfirin, dutifully, offered aid to the damaged shoulder. She had heard of the race during the day, and fit the rash act into her understanding of the complex Elf standing before her. Thaladorn carried a small portable healer's case with him, and he was unloading small jars onto the desktop as she offered her hands to him as a healer. Elrond took them in his slender hands and bestowed a kiss across the delicate fingers with a smile. "Healer, heal," he responded. She gently slid his heavy outer robe from his shoulders and laid it across the desk nearby. She stopped his fingers from undoing the small silver buttons, and slowly unclasped the loops from the buttons of his tunic. She laid fingers along the delicate embroideries that enhanced the rich fabric with a smile. No craftsmen at any Elven settlement did work like the embroiderers at Rivendell. The lantern light caught silver threads in the designs as he slipped out of the tunic, and she laid it near the outer robe nearby.

Thaladorn held a small jar in his hands warming the contents. Alfirin sat Elrond down on a bench before her, and taking up some of the scented cream, laid firm fingers along his shoulders, feeling for the disruption of energies. She always cringed at first glance of the puckered scar on his shoulder from an ancient injury, Galenbrethil had explained how a sword point had pierced chain mail through enchantment to cause the ragged injury. Even centuries passing had not erased the deep scar. She passed loving fingers over the scar and began to work on the injured shoulder.

How different was her style than Galenbrethil's he thought as he twinged a bit at her touch. She lost no time in locating the damaged muscles and realigned flesh and energies with firm fingers and deep concentration. Elrond wondered what medicine she used, it felt and smelled different than any he was familiar with. He asked Thaladorn for a description before he was shushed by Alfirin.

Thaladorn gave a brief explanation of the contents and properties; it was an old formula from Lorien they had discovered in an archive he said. Elrond could certainly attest to its deep and penetrating qualities as he shifted under Alfirin's firm grasp. Her hands slid down his back and located a tight place he had not noticed before she identified some damage there as well. Thaladorn smiled at his winces and groans, he was well aware of the strength in her fingers..

He rummaged in the case again and pulled out a small pottery bowl in a rosy violet glaze. Elrond smiled at this and reached out a hand to take the bowl. Alfirin sighed and gave him a playful pat on the shoulder, 'I guess we are finished with this session then?" She had actually determined that his energy flow had been realigned to some extent, such as one could tell with his unique and erratic patterns. She leaned over him and slid her hands across his chest in an affectionate hug. "Feeling better then?" He turned and met her lips with sweet kiss of thanks. Thaladorn handed the small bowl over and asked for an opinion by scent. He explained the slight changes in the formula and described the plants substituted.

Elrond held the bowl to his nose and sniffed with concentration. It was familiar, yet subtly different. He dipped a fingertip into the cream for a tiny dab and felt the creaminess between his fingertips. This silken feel was certainly familiar and one of the properties of lanfalas that made it appreciated among lovers. Alfirin smiled and remarked, "All members of this plant family provide that quality." Thaladorn was standing with an intent look on his face, eager for an evaluation of the adjusted concoction. Dipping a fingertip into the cream again, Elrond carefully spread a small amount across his bottom lip, and touched the cream on his finger with the tip of his tongue. This was the formal evaluation of lanfalas, as its properties were quickly felt with this test. The flavor was mild and distinctive, yet again new and different. He had tested lanfalas frequently as a healer and chemist at the court of Gil-galad, the plants grew prevalently there along the beach, and the cream often had to be cut considerably with other ingredients to reduce its addictiveness. After all, one could only take so much pleasure.

He sat back on the bench with his eyes closed and thought that if this formula evoked memories of his life at the Grey Havens, then there must be some hidden ingredient cluing his memory. His lip tingled and the flavor was pleasant, he felt himself relaxing as he rubbed his fingertips together again. As he opened his eyes he saw Alfirin and Thaladorn standing before him like anxious students awaiting an evaluation of their project. He laughed at the intent looks on their faces. Shaking his head he rose from the bench and laid a hand on the shoulder of each.

"My friends,' he said slowly, " I believe you have found a suitable combination that evokes older formulas I have known. The properties are similar, the flavor pleasing, and the effects are not overpowering. In fact the mildness of this formula teases, yet is pleasing." Their growing smiles indicated their pleasure at his words. "You have not tried this then?" he asked. Her guilty nod indicated no, Thaladorn's little smile gave him away. "You used me to test the results then?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "Who better, my lord, than one legendary in the greenhouses for his memory of formulas and knowledge of rare plants?" Alfirin asked. Elrond lifted his finger and touched her lower lip gently, leaving a dab of the rosy cream there.

Elrond moved to blow out the candles near the stairway and returned to take the soft cloak from Thaladorn's shoulders. From behind, his slender fingers loosened the lacings of his tunic, and released the belt that held the garment close. From his position behind the healer, Elrond looked at Alfirin as she touched her lip and smiled. "Healers, I believe that this cream needs intensive testing and evaluation, do you share my thoughts?" Alfirin nodded and turned to Thaladorn to address the long lacing of her dinner gown.

The lanfalas was judged by all to be a suitable alternative to the classical formula, with even less of the lingering after-effects of the stronger versions. More testing of formulas was agreed upon, and distilling and research was assigned to Thaladorn during his tenure at Rivendell.

Lindefal walked though the Master's Chambers early that next morning and noted the violet bowl by the bedside, and the pile of arms and legs every which way under the tussled linens. He carried the breakfast straight down the stairs and on through to the study where he enjoyed himself immensely as he rewrote the day's schedule and helped himself to seconds of everything.


End