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Chapter 2: Aftermath
Thranduil sighed as he directed his mount up the final rise to the home he shared with his wife and son. It wasn't Greenwood the Great, or even Eryn Lasgalen, but Laeriel had found a small, wooded valley to call home. The manor of Eryn Dithen was built in the old Silvan style, a comfortable and sprawling talan nestled in the strong, spreading branches of the ancient trees. It reminded him enough of the home they had shared together in Emyn Duir that he'd felt very comfortable there from the moment of his arrival.
The sight of Laeriel, strong and whole, standing on the green before the winding stairs up the trunk of the tree with a welcoming cup between her hands, never failed to make his heart stop and then beat faster. "Meleth," he breathed softly as he slid from his mount.
He barely even noticed his grinning son guiding both horses in the direction of the stable with a gentle hand to the neck of each, for his eyes were fixed on his beautiful, golden-haired wife. It didn't seem real that he'd been with her again already for seventy-five years, for each time he returned home to find her waiting for him, it was as if he were meeting her at the docks of Tol Eressëa all over again and feeling an Age of loneliness and heartache falling away.
"Husband!" Laeriel responded and smiled sweetly at him as she extended the cup. "Welcome home. How was this meeting you attended?"
Thranduil took the cup and sipped the sweet wine from it. "It was very enlightening, and very intriguing," he began, not truly wishing to delve into the delicate subject much deeper as yet. "Many I have not seen in Long-years were there: Elrond, Círdan, Erestor, Glorfindel…"
Laeriel's delicate eyebrows rose in surprise over storm-grey eyes. "Indeed? You did not use to return from attending meetings with the Noldor in such high spirits." She glanced over his shoulder. "Where is Legolas?"
"He took the horses; no doubt he will return after they are groomed and fed," he replied, returning the cup.
She handed the cup to a servant, who bowed and took the vessel away. "I missed you," she admitted as she stepped into his embrace. "I am very jealous of anything that would take you away from me now."
Thranduil was grateful that she was so much shorter than he, and had her face pressed into his chest, when he closed his eyes and grimaced. She will not appreciate the news I bring to her this day - nor the idea that it will steal both myself and Legolas from her for an extended period of time. His arms tightened around her. "I do not leave you easily, my heart - you know this, do you not?"
He felt her stiffen in his arms and then pull back slightly. "What is it, Thranduil?" she demanded gently.
"What?" he stared at her in surprise. "Is something amiss?"
Her golden brows folded into a frown. "When you start to use flowery endearments like that, it usually means that you are up to something you know I will not approve of," she explained in a tired tone. "And even over an Age of separation and holding back first Sauron and then the encroachment of the edain has not changed you that much. So you might as well tell me now…"
"Can we not spend a few quiet and gentle moments together beforehand?" Thranduil murmured, eagerly reaching out to gather her closer again and then bury his nose in his wife's fragrant hair. As much as he was looking forward to exploring and settling new lands far from the boring council chambers that had been his life for the last twenty years, leaving Laeriel behind while making a safe home for her would be one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Few knew the true depths of his grief when she had been bitten by that spider so soon after giving birth to Legolas except perhaps Galion or Legolas; and even they knew only what they had seen in unguarded moments of surprise or extreme duress.
Laeriel sighed and allowed herself to be pulled close again. "At least tell me if Legolas intends to be involved as well."
"That is partly why I would rather we wait until we are all together before speaking to you," Thranduil told her gently. "Firstly because I would like a chance to greet my wife properly; and secondly because what needs to be said will affect us as a family, and so should be discussed with all of us present."
"You did not manage to insult Elrond or his sons in their home, did you?"
He began to chuckle in memory of a similar incident during a visit to Imladris not long before Legolas was conceived. "No, my love, you may trust that I managed to insult no one this trip. The wine was excellent, the food plentiful and delicious, the company even better than ever, and the differences between Noldor and Vanyar and Sindar seemed to fall away. All of us who had been invited to this get-together had similar sentiments about a great many things that outweigh lineage."
"That is a relief," Laeriel sighed and then moved slightly out of his embrace to wrap an arm about his waist and begin leading him to the stairs. "Elrond holds the ear of several Kings - and even Manwë, if rumors are to be believed. Your father would not appreciate…"
"My father does not appreciate a great many things. But Elrond has mellowed since he traveled over the Sea and returned to Celebrían, and would be harder than ever to provoke." Thranduil smiled in memory. "The twins have quite an interesting home in Tirion too - stone, of course, Noldor never seem to build with anything else - to the west of Tuna, near the narrows of the Calacirya. Why they settled there rather than near their parents…" He sniffed as he entered the main hall of the talan. "Is that roast venison I smell?"
"Yes," she grinned, adding, "I know how hungry you get when you need to travel any distance lately. But Thranduil, could you not tell me at least a little…"
He shook his head. "Oh, come now! After a long journey, certainly I can hope to feast on one of my favorite meals before having to dive right into…"
"Is it safe yet?" Legolas' voice sounded from behind them as he finished mounting the stairs and walked through the front doorway.
Laeriel groaned and pushed away from her husband. "If you must ask that question, my son, then I cannot promise that the answer will be yes. But your father still has said nothing about anything, which leaves me to imagine all sorts of things…"
"At the moment, it is safe," Thranduil hastened to say. "I am glad you are here. It seems our meal is almost ready, and your mother is anxious to hear our news from Tirion." He aimed a cautionary eye at his son. "I told her that since it concerns us all as a family, that all discussion should wait until we are all together. Over a pleasant feast should be a satisfactory venue to tell her all."
Legolas nodded in understanding and accepted a quick hug from his mother before stepping back to say, "I agree, Father; but perhaps you will excuse me while I freshen up from our journey." He cocked a teasing eye at Thranduil. "Actually, I dare say we both could use a change of clothing and a bath before sitting down to eat. You smell as much of horse and dusty road as I do."
"You two are hiding something," Laeriel declared, her hands in fists at her hips, "the both of you. This is no longer quite so amusing."
"We shall be happy to tell you all, my love, but let us at least bathe and relax a little first." Thranduil's brows began to knit. "A bath and then discussion during the meal. Surely…"
She threw up her hands. "Very well. I shall make certain the meal is on the table soon enough. But I expect a full accounting once we are sitting down."
Thranduil and Legolas each kissed a cheek and then hurried through the room to the stairs that led to the private family chambers. "No wonder you did not want to consider her response," Legolas commented sotto voce to his father as they reached the top of the stairs.
"We shall have to work hard just to convince her to allow us our venture," Thranduil replied in the same tone. "I was afraid of this."
"It certainly makes talking to King Thingol much more inviting…"
"Forget it, my son. You chose to tour the sparring rings and tournaments, remember? King Thingol - and most likely your grandfather - will be my burdens to bear. Although…" Thranduil cast a long look back down the stairs. "…this interview will be most excellent practice for what I face with the King and your grandfather. But go now - get yourself cleaned up, and I will too. I will need your powers of persuasion to work with mine while talking to your mother."
oOoOo
"How went your visit with our sons?" Celebrían asked, helping Elrond shed the dust-covered tunic.
He shrugged as the tunic hit the floor of the bathing chamber, then seated himself on the low bench to begin tugging on his boots. "Better than expected, actually. It seems our duo have quite a number of old friends that agree with them." He grunted as the boot finally released his foot and then tossed it on top of the discarded tunic.
"Oh?" Celebrían sounded surprised. "Who?"
"Your father for one…"
She straightened abruptly from testing the temperature of the bathing pool. "My father?"
"And Haldir," he continued, tugging on the other boot. It soon followed its mate. "And my two closest counselors, as well as Círdan, Thranduil, Legolas, Gildor Inglorion…"
With each name, Celebrían's mouth dropped open wider. "All of them?" she asked finally, beyond amazed. "All of them feel the same?"
Elrond nodded. "What is more," he finished as he stood and began untying the laces to his trousers, "the beginnings of a plan to remedy everyone's dissatisfaction have begun to emerge." The trousers followed tunic and boots, with braies topping the stack as he stepped slowly and appreciatively into the softly steaming pool. He turned and smiled after seating himself on the bench near the steps. "Oh, this is lovely after a long, tiring ride. You are joining me, aren't you?"
Celebrían's smile was warming in more ways than just one. "Now, how could I turn down an invitation like that?" Her hands went to her shoulders and tugged at the ends of the bow tying her light summer gown in place. Elrond's eyes glowed appreciatively as the delicate fabric slid away while her arms stayed aloft, coiling and piling her long, silver hair on top of her head, to be held in place by a miniature mithril spear with a lapis cabochon on the blunt end.
He lifted his hand to steady her steps and then guided her to a seat at his side. "I should travel more often; the benefits and pleasures of the return are never to be discounted."
"But you mentioned everyone's dissatisfaction," she pointed out gently as he wrapped a long arm about her shoulders and guided her head to rest against his chest. "Do you mean that you finally gave voice to your own thoughts on the matter?"
Elrond froze for one, small moment of shock. He ran his hand up and down her upper arm soothingly, hoping that the idea he actually did agree with his sons would not cause dissention between them. The peacefulness of his home and smooth relationship with his wife was beyond price. "You knew?" he asked, wonderingly.
"Of course I did. I know you, Peredhel," she answered gently. "You have said precious little when our sons would sit at the table during their visits and spout their frustrations, but I could see the agreement in your eyes." She slid an arm over his belly to hold him back. "So tell me just what it is they intend - and to what extent you will join in their efforts."
"Elladan made his case for leaving Eldamar, and Gildor took up the thought and ran with it. In the end, it was decided that we would begin by exploring the coast of Avathar, with the intent of finding a suitable place to build a new havens-like stronghold from which to launch expeditions inland." The hand continued its slow and gentle soothing. "As you can imagine, Thranduil was more than intrigued by the idea of taming another realm filled with spiders and other unknown dangers."
The silver head on his shoulder rocked back and forth. "Unbelievable! You would think he would have had enough of that already."
"Quite the contrary, evidently. From the things he and Legolas let slip, it seems Thranduil has become a recording secretary at Thingol's court in the place of his father - and chafes sorely at the task."
Celebrían was silent for a long moment. "I was expecting, perhaps, movement inland - north past Formenos and the Vanyar settlements, or south past Aulë's Halls. But Avathar! Of all places!" Despite the warm water, she shuddered and huddled closer. "I do not like to think of them putting themselves - or you, my love - in such peril."
Elrond gave his wife a gentle squeeze of comfort. "I assure you, our sons are more than capable of taking good care of themselves in the wild. They spent the better part of the entire time you were here alone in Aman doing exactly that."
"You know I do not like to think of such things," she stated softly, drawing her husband's gaze at the tone of pain in her voice. Her grey-blue gaze was agonized. "I should have tried harder to stay with you - I know this. I never meant to burden any of you with guilt or…"
"Stop it." Elrond kissed her forehead tenderly. "You needed the healing offered here, and none of us begrudged your wish to find that. You would have faded in Ennor, and both you and I know it; I only regret not being able to return to your side sooner. However, the manner in which our sons dealt with your departure is not your fault or responsibility, but theirs alone." A forefinger traced the line of her chin. "I have told you this many times."
She grimaced. "I know, but it does not help, I fear. Nor does it help to hear that my father is involved in a venture to Avathar, especially now. Already he and my mother do not dwell peacefully together anymore…"
"She still has not forgiven him for continuing to have second thoughts about coming here?" Elrond frowned. "That does not bode well."
"No, it doesn't." Celebrían was, at long last, beginning to lose patience with her mother. "The last time she wrote to me, she told me that Father had chosen to remove himself to the very opposite end of the wing from her. They rarely even dine together lately." She sighed and began dabbling her hand in the warm water and bringing droplets up to Elrond's chest and watching them make their way back down again. "What makes her even angrier is that Father refuses to try to take part in the court. He spends more time sparring with Haldir than listening to council sessions with the King. He avoids social events that would give him opportunities to further his standing among the Noldor. She calls him 'lazy' in her letter…"
Elrond shook his head. "How many times have we watched this same drama between them over the years, my love? Your mother - for all her wisdom otherwise - forgets from one Long-year to the next that she married a Sindar, born in and much attached to Ennor, who would not be tamed to her side merely by the fact that she is Calaquendi. If she is not very careful, she will drive him to remain behind in any new settlement in Avathar or Araman just to avoid the battles he would face in coming home again."
"What about you? What are your intentions?"
"I will help, of course…" He looked down and into her face and then kissed her forehead. "Perhaps I will go with them at first; there will be a need for seasoned warriors and strategists for planning exploratory expeditions. But," and he kissed her again, this time on the end of the nose, "But I swear to you that I do not intend to remain away long term. I have a home here with which I am well pleased; and while I would enjoy spending time away from the attitudes of those who refuse to understand, I will always return home. Besides, I cherish our time together too much to do without your company for very long anymore."
"And I would not appreciate having to chase after you," Celebrían told him with an impish smile, "but I do not begrudge your need to go adventuring with your sons. I know better."
Elrond gave a tiny sigh of relief. "I am glad." His eyes widened as his wife's hand at his belly began to move toward far more sensitive - and pleasurable - territory. "And I think I had best finish removing the dust of the road from my hair, because it seems there is something else that I enjoy greatly that is being delayed."
"The benefits and pleasures of your return do await you, my lord," she told him with a giggle, launching herself from his arms into the center of the steaming pool, "if you are up to the challenge of catching them."
There was a low chuckle, several more splashes, a shriek, and then the chamber filled with very contented sighs.
oOoOo
Laeriel waited until both Thranduil and Legolas had had a chance to fill their plates with hearty helpings of the evening meal before giving each a sharp and direct look. "We are now all sitting around the table. So which one of you wishes to tell me of the news you bring from Tirion?"
Thranduil's fork froze on its path between plate and lips. "We had an interesting series of meetings with many old friends," Legolas offered in a very conversational tone to give his father just a moment more time to set his thoughts in order. "Did Father tell you who all was there?"
"Yes, he did." Laeriel's gaze rested fixedly on her husband. "But what I am most interested in hearing is that part of the news that you believe weighs on us as a family. Thranduil?"
The former Elvenking carefully placed his fork and knife down. "Before I do that, I feel I need to tell you that I have not been entirely… satisfied… with life here in Valinor."
"Did you honestly think I had not noticed your frustrations? Even I would have found the road from being an absolute monarch to a court recorder difficult to travel." Her gaze had softened considerably. "Frankly, I am astonished you have not lost your temper or simply walked out on a meeting and caused yourself grief because of it."
"I would not do anything to humiliate my father…" Thranduil protested, his face flushed.
"Father did learn some patience in Ennor in the latter years," Legolas offered quickly. "If nothing else, having to deal with solicitous courtiers who rarely state things in a straightforward manner gave him ample experience in swallowing his ire before it made things more difficult for anyone." He turned and gave his father a teasing grin. "And I remember that negotiating trade agreements with the edain from Esgaroth always was a high point of the decade."
"Not hardly!" Thranduil snorted sourly and reached for his goblet of wine. "Those fools kept coming back to my Halls every ten or so sun-rounds thinking they could fool me into changing long-standing agreements into something more in their favor - and then complained of mistreatment when I stood firm. It grew very tiresome, but I accepted it as part of the process of dealing with less-than-noble edain."
Laeriel shook her head. "At least you didn't throw them in the river and let them swim back to their homes. But, getting back to the topic at hand…" she hinted broadly.
"You are right, my love; you deserve to know all." Thranduil took a quick bite of venison and savored it while again putting down his fork. "The sum and substance of the meeting was that all who attended are of a similar frame of mind when it comes to Eldamar and to being discontented with what we have found here. Elladan made a suggestion that perhaps we should take responsibility for ourselves and find someplace else where we could be less unhappy."
"Someplace else?" Laeriel repeated slowly. "As in… where?" She wracked her brain; where else was there for them but Eldamar now? Surely he wasn't thinking of trying to sail back to Ennor!
"We are moving toward exploring and settling in Avathar," Legolas stated firmly, his eyes glued to his father's face. "Somewhere that we can be free from the attitudes of the Calaquendi who never faced Morgoth or Sauron, or those who have been here long enough that they have forgotten what it meant to be challenged."
Laeriel glanced at her son, and then glanced back in astonishment. Gone was the ever-present sign of grief that he had worn like a pall since the day he'd dug his dwarven friend's grave; there was a new light, and an almost fierce determination behind his gaze. Shifting her eye to her husband, she swallowed when she saw that same determination on his face as well.
"We need to find a new home where we do not have to apologize for staying in Ennor until the very end," Thranduil added and then looked his wife in the eye. "Somewhere that I need no longer worry about spending long hours in stuffy council chambers taking notes on topics I could not care less about."
Laeriel blanched, remembering the many things she had heard about those areas of Valinor that lay beyond the protective wall of the Pelóri. "Avathar? Is that not where Ungoliant…" For a brief moment, she found herself remembering the sight of the huge spider that had penetrated her garden, whose bite had cost her the ability to watch her newborn son grow into the fine warrior he'd become. She shuddered and quickly stomped that memory back into the deep, dark place she kept it locked away.
"Yes, it is." Thranduil continued to face his wife's horrified gaze directly. "Making a new life there will not be easy - or safe. But what comes of it will be our doing, our responsibility - our accomplishment. I cannot remain as I am now, my love; I will slowly go mad." His face told Laeriel clearly that he had already made up his mind about this; he would continue on his course no matter what she said. Still…
"But they say that Ungoliant's spawn still thrives there…"
Legolas nodded. "We all have heard the rumors. But we also have battled spiders before, Mother. By the end of the War, our Mirkwood warriors were very good at battling spiders and wolves, and many other smaller dark creatures - even yrch. It would take time, and much work, but I am certain that we could clear this new land of its remaining shadow in much the same way we cleared our forest."
By the Belain, he sounds so confident…
"How soon are you leaving?" she whispered, fearing the worst - that they had merely returned home long enough to gather their belongings and tell her farewell. "Very soon?"
"Not at all." Thranduil shook his head. "We are still only in the planning stages, my love. There has been no date set as yet, and much yet to do beforehand."
"Besides, we intend to make our first encounter with Avathar from the sea. It is a faster and safer mode of transportation," Legolas added. "We will need to acquire ships, Círdan will have to arrange for a crew, we will have to gather supplies…"
Laeriel looked down into her plate and pushed her vegetables about. "What about me?" she asked finally in a small voice.
"I will want you with me, at my side, as soon as I know it is safe for you to be there," Thranduil declared quickly, reaching out to grasp her free hand tightly. "And we will be taking enough warriors with us to assure that safety in as expedient a manner possible."
Laeriel gazed at him sadly. "It seems as if you just arrived, Thranduil - the past seventy-five years have slipped away without hardly giving notice. I had despaired of your ever coming to join us, knowing how attached you were to your woods and your people. And now you speak of leaving again…"
"To make a new home for the both of us," Thranduil insisted passionately. "To find a place where Avor and Thinnel can feel the rhythm of the world in the land and the woods, breathe air that is sweet with the perfume of utter freedom. As it is now, I feel chained and caged in a land where the rhythm of the world is missing; as if I had been obliged to cut away a portion of my faer and deny its existence." His expression turned sad. "Please tell me that I have your blessings to try for this - for our family?"
Laeriel steeled herself to gaze into beloved green eyes and not immediately give in to him, despite knowing just how much he wanted this. "Will you give me time to think? I need to get used to the idea of your leaving me behind when I have spent Long-years just hoping you would find it in your heart to come here to me…"
"You can have all the time you need," Thranduil promised. "Know that when I do leave, I do so only because I think we would fare better in this new land. If I thought differently, I would never take one step from your side."
"I know," she admitted gently, seeing the truth in that emerald gaze. "It is just very hard to imagine the both of you leaving and being gone for a long time after being spoiled by having you both underfoot now." She picked at her food. "I am afraid my appetite has left me. Eat, please, both of you; you need a good meal after your journey." She rose, looking at neither of them directly. "If you will excuse me."
Once she had left the room, Thranduil and Legolas stared at each other. "Well, that could have gone better," Thranduil sighed in frustration.
"I have a feeling this will not be the only time we discuss this," Legolas mused in response. "You did not see her before, Ada. She grieved for you, lost to her in Ennor, easily as much as you grieved for her, lost to you over here. She was like a shadow of herself until the day you sailed into Tol Eressëa with Galion. Even though I had my own cares weighing on me, I could see that your return to her brought the sun back into her world."
Thranduil stared down into his plate, and then pushed it back. "My appetite has left me as well. Forgive me, my son…" And with that, he was on his feet and moving to follow Laeriel.
oOoOo
Círdan shaded his eyes against the bright, early morning light over the eastern horizon. Around him, the soft clangs of metal on wood, the cheery voices of fishermen getting ready to set sail for their next haul, and the whushing sound of the ocean lapping at the gleaming white sands of the beach were as familiar to him as the sound of his own breathing.
The Sea. He could never get tired of it; the way her colors changed according to the mood of the skies or of Ulmo himself, the tang of salt hanging heavy in the air, the endless motion beneath his feet even on a boat tied up at the dock. The Sea had been both obstacle and tool to him over the Ages; now, it was an old friend to whom he was bringing a sore heart.
He'd known, the moment he opened his mouth at suppertime to tell of the meeting he'd attended and the decisions made there, that his world had changed irrevocably. He'd seen the sudden look of fury in the eyes of his wife, heard her voice harden and grow cold, and watched her walk away from their family supper table with back painfully erect and unyielding. It had hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced before; worse even than watching her climb aboard one of his ships after their son had been killed in the battle of Dagorlad.
And his son, his Aglaron, the bright star to which he had finally been allowed to return at the very end; he too had responded, not with understanding - or even a desire to understand - but with derision.
"Father, you do not mean to join with this foolishness, do you?"
He had hoped for better. He had maintained that hope even in light of the small comments that indicated that his wife and son shared in the same, denigrating opinion of the majority toward him and those like him who had remained behind until the bitter end. But he had known his hope to be futile.
Why, then, did the unavoidable reality of the situation make his heart ache and his eyes water?
"Círdan? You are up early this morning."
He started at the sound of his chief advisor's voice, and turned to look at him. Arnon was unusual for a Falathrim in that his build was stocky rather than tall and lithe, and his hair dark. "As are you, my friend." He turned his gaze back to the horizon and sighed.
Arnon's dark blue eyes missed very little when it came to measuring his lord's moods. "Am I missing something?"
"I told you of the meeting I attended in Tirion…"
"I remember." Arnon turned his gaze to follow that of his lord, and studied the far eastern horizon.
"Elunis and Aglaron were not pleased." That was putting it mildly, but Arnon didn't need to know everything. He knew both Elunis and Aglaron well enough to understand what Círdan wasn't saying.
Círdan saw Arnon nod, as expected, from the corner of his eye. "And how did you answer them?"
"I told Aglaron that I needed neither his permission or blessing, and that I would not be forsworn from what I had promised." He turned, finally, and faced his old friend and advisor. "What do you think?"
Arnon's eyes widened, and then he threw his head back and laughed. "I think it is about time you took a stand for yourself, my friend. You have spent the last Long-years walking on eggshells around those two. It does me good to see you stand forth for what you believe right."
"So you do not think what is planned is madness?"
Arnon shook his head. "Whether I do or not is immaterial. It is my place to advise when a decision is pending - or caution when I see imminent disaster on the horizon - and, frankly, this is neither case." He rubbed his jaw pensively. "I have to admit to some curiosity, now that you bring up the topic of Avathar. None of the men I have spoken to since we talked yesterday have dared even approach the shore to see if the fishing there is plentiful or not. Our fisherfolk prefer to head out into the Sea rather than hug the coastline."
Círdan felt his spirits rise. "So you too are intrigued by the thought of new lands - and maybe even new waters?"
"Well, it would be better to say that I am not discouraged by ancient tales of evils long past. We have fought - and survived - great evil; it is nothing we cannot do again."
"What about the others? Will they be as open to the idea?"
Arnon shrugged. "We cannot know until we ask them." He pointed to a large fishing vessel that had been pulled into dry dock on the beach. "Just promise me you will not be asking Taendir to captain any of your exploratory vessels."
Círdan's eyebrows rose. The gaping hole in the hull of the Aearwing told a grim tale. "What did he do this time?"
"He decided to stay out far past any measure of safety before one of Ossë's temper tantrums struck, and then miscalculated the depth of the water trying to cut corners on the way into the harbor." Arnon scowled. "We lost two good Falathrim that dark day, and all Taendir can see is that his fish were much in demand because all the other boats had stayed in the harbor."
"And my son allows him to continue his command?" Círdan growled his frustration. "It seems that I am not the only one who indulges in foolishness! I see I will have to address this issue with him. He cannot let his friendships stand in the way of doing what is right!"
"Tell me, were you intending to turn over the responsibilities for your people to Aglaron again when you are gone on your adventure?" Arnon asked in a deceptively neutral tone.
Now Círdan's brows descended. "I may have to revisit that decision," he replied unhappily. He glanced over at his advisor. "You would not consider taking the job?"
"I would prefer a berth on whatever ship you intend to captain, my lord," Arnon answered sincerely. "My place is at your side - whether it be managing a harbor or charting unknown waters near pest-ridden shores."
Círdan put an arm about his old friend's shoulder. "That would be my pleasure, my friend. And sometime before then, we will need to consider who to promote in my place here, for I will not have one who practices favoritism holding the welfare of my people in his hands."
"I have a few thoughts on that I could share with you, if you wish." Arnon gestured toward the plain-looking building that housed the administrative offices of the harbor of Avallonë. "And I still have a small supply of that spiced tea from Harad on hand. Are you interested?"
"For spiced tea, you may have my attention for the better part of the morning! You have been holding out on me, it seems…"
Sindarin Vocabulary:
Aearwing - Sea Spray, a fishing vessel
Belain - Valar, the Gods, the Powers (sing. - Balan)
Calaquendi - Q. Elves who were in Aman during the Time of the Trees
edain - mortal men (sing. - adan)
Eldamar – Q. the land in Valinor settled by the Elves at the invitation of the Valar
Endor - Q. Ennor, Middle-earth
faer - soul, spirit
Meleth - Beloved
Peredhil - S. Half-Elves (sing. peredhel)
telain - S. tree-platform dwelling of wood elves (sing. talan)
yrch - orcs (sing. - orc)