Little Lords and Elder Eldar [Arwen]
Mar 22, 2019 17:33:00 GMT -5
Post by SIRION on Mar 22, 2019 17:33:00 GMT -5
'And off westwards out of sight here is Morwinyon whose light inspired the jewel wrights of Aman. Its light surpassed only by the Star of Earendil, which my people named Gil-Estel which is the star of hope and who was the sire of your sires. Having passed then through Shadow they followed his light off to the West, to Numenor of old which they would name also as Ellena, or Starwards.'
'Pelendir?'
'Hm?' The elf paused, being well used to his charge throwing questions thick and fast such that he could scarce keep his answers from trailing in to one another in an awful mess. That Eldarion's hungry and eager mind would think to stop short in his lesson intrigued him and it could only mean, he intuited, that there was a question of special significance close on the horizon. When it came though he could not help but falter.
'You lived in the time of Earendil, or so t'is said hereabouts. Did you never have any children?' Seeing his tutor flag and fail to answer, Eldarion averted his eyes perhaps perceiving that he had spoken some grievous wrong, but for the boy's sake the old Elf spoke up soon after. For he wished no harm nor guilt upon Estel's son though it stung him now to speak of such things.
'I had-- have a son. And a wife both.'
'Where are they now? Do you not... miss them?' The questions came now with some halting and old Pelendir saw that he had dealt his charge an ill, so he strained to answer as much as he might bear in the light of Varda which stirred in him the memories of many kin, but none more so than she to whom he was sworn before all others. Turning now from the chill night sky to the warm light which issued out of the Princely chamber within, he placed a hand about Eladrion's shoulder and spoke.
'They passed into the Utter West with a great portion of our people, ere your grandfather Lord Elrond sailed out from the Havens of Mithlond. But those were Dark and dangerous times,' standing now he guided the Prince gently into the warmth of his bedchamber proper. 'Someone had told me, long ago now, that I would have to choose between my own happiness and my duty, the same choice that my own father had made in the days of my youth. In like fashion, my son did not understand, I think. But in our last days it seemed that my wife loved me the better or more fiercely for it.' Eldarion did not seem at first to have understood, so guarded was his world by the sweet attention of all those that were around him that he was raised always in love and the Shadow had never drawn over him. How could this young Man reckon anything of dim and lonely Doom or of true need?
'But come now,' Pelendir resumed, leaving the subject behind, 'Earendil's passing marks time for little Dunedain to be off to bed.'
'I'm not that little.' Pelendir smiled at this remark and pausing now placed a hand atop the child's head to measure against his own height. Though indeed Eldarion was tall for a lad of his age there could be but one conclusion.
'Hm, no. Still time for bed I think.' Huffing, Eldarion did as instructed and slipped in under the soft covers of his bed while Pelendir set about dimming the lamp close at hand so as it would not disturb his charge and proceeded to snuff what lights then remained, but as he finally made to leave the boy to his rest he was all of a sudden beckoned back.
'Pelendir? Will you stay?'
'Gweston i nidhin de chared,' he so swore and taking his meaning the young Prince rolled on to his side and shut his eyes happily. Long the Elf sat there beneath the dappled light of the fading stars which yet entered the room, listening to the soft contented breathing of the Prince of the Dunedain who by virtue of long lineage was his Prince also. But more than that, he hearkened to the memory of his son and so did whenever he was with the bright eyed inquisitive boy who would ask him the all names of all the stars in the sky. Quick now seemed his childhood and in its own way quite cruel, it was for the Eldar to remain and remember while the realm of Men was to fail and forget always, so would be the fate of this boys descendants. For now though they would recall themselves as they were in elder days, or so was his hope that slumbered close by.
He had thought at first to be there when Eldarion awoke, but instead rose to depart some time after the Prince had found a deep and dreamless sleep he might only disturb were he to linger. Before he left though, he stripped the grey cloak of Doriath from his shoulders and placed it atop the lush bed-sheets as a further bulwark against the cold night. Shifting, without awakening Eldarion's hand found the hood and pressed its warmth to his still slumbering cheek. Pelendir wondered at this, whether he now felt as Felagund had when first he knew the race of Beren, slumbering children wandering where they would.
It could not have been overlong before the Sun's first light would crest the eastern peaks and beckoned the new day when he finally crept off and away. It was still dark though when he came out to the Court of the Fountain where now the White Tree stood tall and proud and in full flower though it be the dead of Winter. The guards of the citadel paid him little enough heed, knowing him for a friend at first sight though to them he seemed ever strange and distant. A far flung novelty in the Southern Kingdom. He smiled at the thought, crossing the courtyard that he might go down in to the city.
'Pelendir?'
'Hm?' The elf paused, being well used to his charge throwing questions thick and fast such that he could scarce keep his answers from trailing in to one another in an awful mess. That Eldarion's hungry and eager mind would think to stop short in his lesson intrigued him and it could only mean, he intuited, that there was a question of special significance close on the horizon. When it came though he could not help but falter.
'You lived in the time of Earendil, or so t'is said hereabouts. Did you never have any children?' Seeing his tutor flag and fail to answer, Eldarion averted his eyes perhaps perceiving that he had spoken some grievous wrong, but for the boy's sake the old Elf spoke up soon after. For he wished no harm nor guilt upon Estel's son though it stung him now to speak of such things.
'I had-- have a son. And a wife both.'
'Where are they now? Do you not... miss them?' The questions came now with some halting and old Pelendir saw that he had dealt his charge an ill, so he strained to answer as much as he might bear in the light of Varda which stirred in him the memories of many kin, but none more so than she to whom he was sworn before all others. Turning now from the chill night sky to the warm light which issued out of the Princely chamber within, he placed a hand about Eladrion's shoulder and spoke.
'They passed into the Utter West with a great portion of our people, ere your grandfather Lord Elrond sailed out from the Havens of Mithlond. But those were Dark and dangerous times,' standing now he guided the Prince gently into the warmth of his bedchamber proper. 'Someone had told me, long ago now, that I would have to choose between my own happiness and my duty, the same choice that my own father had made in the days of my youth. In like fashion, my son did not understand, I think. But in our last days it seemed that my wife loved me the better or more fiercely for it.' Eldarion did not seem at first to have understood, so guarded was his world by the sweet attention of all those that were around him that he was raised always in love and the Shadow had never drawn over him. How could this young Man reckon anything of dim and lonely Doom or of true need?
'But come now,' Pelendir resumed, leaving the subject behind, 'Earendil's passing marks time for little Dunedain to be off to bed.'
'I'm not that little.' Pelendir smiled at this remark and pausing now placed a hand atop the child's head to measure against his own height. Though indeed Eldarion was tall for a lad of his age there could be but one conclusion.
'Hm, no. Still time for bed I think.' Huffing, Eldarion did as instructed and slipped in under the soft covers of his bed while Pelendir set about dimming the lamp close at hand so as it would not disturb his charge and proceeded to snuff what lights then remained, but as he finally made to leave the boy to his rest he was all of a sudden beckoned back.
'Pelendir? Will you stay?'
'Gweston i nidhin de chared,' he so swore and taking his meaning the young Prince rolled on to his side and shut his eyes happily. Long the Elf sat there beneath the dappled light of the fading stars which yet entered the room, listening to the soft contented breathing of the Prince of the Dunedain who by virtue of long lineage was his Prince also. But more than that, he hearkened to the memory of his son and so did whenever he was with the bright eyed inquisitive boy who would ask him the all names of all the stars in the sky. Quick now seemed his childhood and in its own way quite cruel, it was for the Eldar to remain and remember while the realm of Men was to fail and forget always, so would be the fate of this boys descendants. For now though they would recall themselves as they were in elder days, or so was his hope that slumbered close by.
He had thought at first to be there when Eldarion awoke, but instead rose to depart some time after the Prince had found a deep and dreamless sleep he might only disturb were he to linger. Before he left though, he stripped the grey cloak of Doriath from his shoulders and placed it atop the lush bed-sheets as a further bulwark against the cold night. Shifting, without awakening Eldarion's hand found the hood and pressed its warmth to his still slumbering cheek. Pelendir wondered at this, whether he now felt as Felagund had when first he knew the race of Beren, slumbering children wandering where they would.
It could not have been overlong before the Sun's first light would crest the eastern peaks and beckoned the new day when he finally crept off and away. It was still dark though when he came out to the Court of the Fountain where now the White Tree stood tall and proud and in full flower though it be the dead of Winter. The guards of the citadel paid him little enough heed, knowing him for a friend at first sight though to them he seemed ever strange and distant. A far flung novelty in the Southern Kingdom. He smiled at the thought, crossing the courtyard that he might go down in to the city.