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ladysternchen · 2 months

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The Boat To Irmo's Realm, Or: The Story Of An Untired Elfling

There was a certain element of art in keeping a freshly bathed elfling on one’s lap to comb and braid their hair. It required nimble fingers and the use of all four limbs- and above all, a gripping story to tell. The first two, Elu was pleased to find, he mastered as well as he had ever done, despite usually having Melian’s help these days. The last not so much, at least not tonight.

Tonight his thoughts were with his niece and nephew, and the new baby they were about to welcome into this world. Celebren had asked for both her mother-in-law and aunt to be with her and Galadhon, so Melian and Thônwen would surely be occupied for the night. Elmo, meanwhile, was appointed the task to look after Galathil, who was much too young to be left to his own devices while his mother was in labour.

Elu sighed at the very thought, pity for his grand-nephew filling his heart. It was not at all usual for siblings to be born so shortly after one another, at least here in Eglador. Even back at Cuiviénen so small an age-gap had been uncommon, though by no means as rare as it was now. He and Olwë had not been the only siblings born so close together that they would grow up practically like twins. And compared to the few years that separated Olwë and himself, the age-gap between Galathil and his new brother or sister was almost reasonable.

As it was, he had been so very small that even his memory -which was quite good in general- had become blurry, presenting him only with feelings and fleeting pictures rather than an accurate account of Olwë’s birth. The uncounted years since had not erased the feeling of terror from his mind, though, and he could easily recall it even now.

He could not quite remember whose lap it had been on which he had sat, whose arms had held him tight, comforting, yes, but still unable to lift the feeling of dread that had filled all his body, from his tousled hair down to his bare toes.

Most likely it had been his aunt, Círdan’s mother, who had looked after him while his own mother had birthed Olwë, but try as he might, he really could not recall it. He remembered having his gaze fixed on the earthy ground, though, on his tunic that barely covered his knees, and the chill that was creeping up his bare legs. And his braids. They had come loose, though not altogether undone, and he had hated that. Quite likely, he himself had pulled his hair in a desperate tantrum, though that he could truly not recall.

The other thing that he remembered of that scene was the feeling of his fingernails scratching his cheek as he suckled on his thumb. The memory of that drove the heat of shame up his neck even now, and he was very grateful that Lúthien sat on his lap with her back turned towards him, and would thus not notice his embarrassment. Really, it was lucky that there were not many within his realm who remembered his childhood-years, and more importantly, that all who did had the grace to not hold it against him. He had surely not struck a particularly kingly figure then.

That had not been the worst of it, though. That had come after little Olwë had squawked himself into life, when their father had come to pick him up to carry him over to his mother and new brother, saying:

“Ai Elwë, how have you grown so tall in only so short a time? I swear you were only our little baby this morning, and now you are already such a big boy?”

He could recall every word even now, the tone of his father’s voice etched into his memory forever more, Oh, how that simple sentence had scared him, as if he had not already been terrified enough. But then his mother had held out her free arm to him and allowed him to bury his face against her hair, and that had finally broken all the dams within him, so that he had sat on her lap positively howling with mingled relief and despair.

“Oh no.” she had said softly, her talking ever so slightly shaking Elu who had his head still on her breast “He still is our baby. They both are our precious little boys.”

Only then, when he had at long last cried his fill and was sure once more that he still had his place within his parents’ arms, had he braved a look into the bundle of blankets that his mother held.

And the bundle had looked back, bright blue eyes gazing out from a tuft of pure white hair. That had looked so very funny that Elu had giggled in spite of himself, and the ice of insecurity had been broken once and for all.

Elu mentally shook himself, trying to again focus on braiding Lúthien’s hair rather than dwell in memories that stirred far too many well-buried emotions. He would also have to firmly forbid his thoughts to stray towards Galathil, for otherwise he would constantly have to remind himself that his grand-nephew was not himself after all, and that therefore their experiences of becoming big brothers would also be different. Once he deemed Lúthien’s hair to be braided enough for it not to tangle while it dried, Elu realised his daughter from his lap, chuckling as she jumped to her feet like a young deer that had been freed from restraints.

“Don’t get too excited over your newly-won freedom, young lady. It is high time for bed, and you are shivering!”

Lúthien paused in the act of whirling around the clearing to grin back at him. A grin, Elu knew full well, that did not bode well. Nonetheless, she danced back to where he still sat, and allowed him to wrap her in her blanket. Elu loved the blanket, remembering how Melian had worked on it during her pregnancy, embroiling it with stars and flowers as they had whiled away the time until they would finally meet their child. It seemed to him like yesterday, when in truth Lúthien was already so independent. Still he could not help but press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. There simply were no words that would do the love he felt for his daughter justice.

Lúthien giggled as his lips brushed her hair, and wriggled free of his arms again.

“That tickles!” she squeaked, rubbing her head indignantly.

“I am sorry, my dear. But come on, lie down, and I shall sing you to sleep if you like.”

Lúthien, of course, did nothing of that sort.

“I’m not tired. Look, Ada, I’m not even an elf but a great bird and I’m flying over the plains of Beleriand, see?”

She spread her arms wide, and with her blanket billowing behind her frolicked around the clearing as though the woollen fabric were indeed the wings on which she could soar through the air. Elu inwardly sighed. He had never expected her to go to sleep without a fight, and being covered in her blanket meant she was at least warm, so he might as well play along for now.

“Can you see all the way from the mountains to the sea, then, high up as you are? And all the hidden valleys and twisting streams?”

Lúthien paused, looking intrigued, the blanket flapping around her ankles now that she has stopped running. “There are hidden valleys in Beleriand?”

Ha! Elu though. Got you!

“Of course there are. Of some I know, but I am sure there are many more, many that no elven eye has ever glimpsed.”

“I must one day find them all!”

She crouched down beside him and wrapped her blanket around her so that she looked remarkably like the bird of prey she had just intended to portray.

“How do you know how Beleriand looks from above, though?”

Because I did look down on these lands, a long time ago, from the high passes of the Ered Luin. In fact, he had done so twice, never guessing then that he was looking upon his future realm.

He did not tell Lúthien that, though. The risk of her wanting to hear the whole story of their journey and his time as an ambassador was far too great. “How do you know I cannot turn into a bird, little one? Or perhaps Nana can?” he asked instead, even though he knew that she was far too old to believe such things by now.

“You can’t. You’re only an elf!”

Charming.

“True, that.”

“But I am not only an elf. And tonight, I shall be a bird.”

“A good thing you tell me. To me, you still look fairly elvish. But be that as it may, even little birds need to be in bed at this time of day, or do you hear any chirping?”

Again, Lúthien laughed. “But Ada, you are being silly. You know birds have no beds, they have nests!”

“I which they sleep, so it is their beds.” “I’m not tired at all. I must be an owl.”

And gone she was again, whirling around in a dance to a tune clearly only she could hear. As ever, Niphredil sprang at her feet, making the twilit clearing sparkle as the starry heavens above.

He would let his little owl dance, for why not? If she was still so full of energy, trying to get her to sleep was vain, anyway, and maybe she would burn some of it off while doing what she loved most. And also, the sight of his daughter dancing the stars of the earth into bloom was so devastatingly beautiful that he could not have torn his gaze away had his life depended on it.

At long last, Lúthien stopped dancing to sit down amidst her flowers, throwing the blanket off her.

“I think I am finished being an own. My feathers have become far too hot all of a sudden.”

Smirking slightly, Elu once again tried his luck. “Lúthien… time for bed. Come on.”

She did not even answer this time, but only hummed in response.

He rolled his eyes. How was it that one word of his sufficed to make all the lands from the Blue Mountains to the sea do his will, when at the same time he could not get one little elfling to bed? Even as he thought this, he felt Melian’s mirth within him, telling him that she had chosen to check in on Lúthien and him in precisely that moment. Apparently, she was highly amused by his helplessness.

Should you not help a baby being born instead of making fun of your king’s plight? he thought to her, and felt her giggle some more.

All in good time. The little one is in no hurry just yet.

Focused on his silent conversation with Melian as he was, he did not immediately notice that Lúthien had got back up, and was now walking idly over to where he sat, a freshly woven wreath of flowers in her hands. And once he did, the trap had already snapped shut.

“I thank you, my lady.” he still said courteously as she stood on her toes to put the wreath on his head. “That is very kind of you indeed. But think not that I shall be bribed by even the fairest of circlets. It is bedtime. Now.”

This was not strictly speaking true. On days like this, he would give much -and most certainly yield his will regarding his daughter’s bed-time- to be able to exchange his crown for Lúthien’s wreaths. He wanted to drink it all in, not to miss one single precious moment of her childhood, that was, after all, so very short compared to the endless years of her adult life. He and Melian had already agreed on not ever aiming for another child, aware that bending all rules once and getting away with it had been daring enough. If only their hearts would accept that truth as readily as their minds, though… in any case, that knowledge made Lúthien’s childhood years all the more precious.

“When I am queen” she said, slumping down beside him and gloriously ignoring his remark about her bedtime “I will order that no elfling has to ever go to bed if they do not wish to.”

Elu raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so? Have I irked you so tonight that you wish me to be gone?”

The shocked look on her face made him want to kick himself the moment he had uttered those words. Of course she had not thought of that, had not considered that she would not be queen while he lived, and the realisation clearly shook her. Therefore hastening to rectify his mistake, he added: “Or else do you expect me to give up the throne freely?”

“Would you?” she asked, intrigued now rather than upset, which made Elu breath a sigh of relief. That had been a tight safe indeed.

“If that be your will, Princess, and given that your mother should be of like mind, I would. It was done like this in the ancient days. The lords at Cuiviénen would rule for a while, and then relinquish lordship in favour of their firstborns. Though know that there is much more to ruling a kingdom than just commanding, and neither your mother nor I would ever dream of interfering with our subjects private affairs, so ordering any parent to raise their children the way you want it is very much out of the question.”

“What is it like, then? Being king?”

Lonely. was the answer that teetered on Elu’s tongue, but he kept the word from crossing his lips just in time. He knew that had he said it, she would then have pitied him, and he certainly did not want to make her feel sad on his behalf any more than he had already done.

“Boring. Mostly.” he offered instead, which made Lúthien laugh.

“Then maybe I shall not be queen after all. I hate everything boring. No, l much rather be a sailor then, like Círdan. Ada, will you make me a hammock out of my blanket? Please do, so it can be my ship.”

He knew full well that he should really refuse her, but he simply could not. Not after the look she had given him when he had foolishly suggested that she wanted his death. Recognising defeat, Elu got up without a word, and tied the ends of her blanket around two young trees, so that it formed a hammock between them. Lúthien laughed in delight, and jumped into the newly made ship, shrieking with both fright and mirth as she almost toppled out again on the other side.

“Careful!” Elu cautioned, but Lúthien had already settled herself in the midst of her hammock, swingling gently from side to side.

“You make a passable shipwright, Ada. I never knew that.”

He burst out laughing, unable to stop himself. As if. Olwë had ever been Círdan’s chosen disciple, not he. He himself had always much preferred swimming to sailing. Not all out of spite, of course.

“I am glad to have been of service. Will you sail to Lord Irmo’s realm, though? I am sure he is desperate to see you.”

“No.” Lúthien laughed, rocking the hammock from side to side still more vigorously. “I told you I am not tired. Oh, help. Look Ada, Ossë is trying to capsize my boat.”

“Surely not” Elu huffed, catching Lúthien as she threw herself out of her hammock without the slightest trace of fear. “…as Ossë would never dare angering your mother. But I take it you are done sailing?”

“Yes. As I am not at all convinced about Ossë. He might make me seasick at the very least.”

“That might well be so. He likes pranks, Ossë does.”

Lúthien laid her head on his shoulder as he one-handedly untied the hammock once more, smirking to himself. She was getting tired, and less persistent with every new game she thought up. A thin sliver of hope at last.

Only he needed her to realise that as well. “Oh look” he said quietly, careful not to trigger her imagination again “Your hair has almost dried by now.”

“Then unbraid it. You did not do my braids properly tonight, they pull!”

He complied, sitting down with her once more and wrapping her in her wings-ship-blanket.

“Well, your wriggled! I always told Elmo that- if you wriggle, the braids turn out all over the place. He learned, so I trust you will, too?”

“I did not wriggle. At least not much. You just weren’t paying attention, Ada!”

Choosing not to admit that she had a fair point there, Elu undid the braids he had worked so hard on weaving earlier, only to burst out laughing as soon as he was done. Lúthien’s yet uncombed hair stood out in all directions, giving her quite a wild look. Annoyed, she reached up to feel it for herself, then promptly jumped to her feet again, grimacing and holding her hands up like claws.

“Grrrrrrr, now I am a wild bear.” she growled, jumping at him, little teeth embedding themselves in his upper arm.

“Ouch! I do not think you’re a bear. You look more like a wolverine to me. They always bite off more than they can chew as well.”

“Do they dance?” Lúthien wanted to know, mercifully letting go of his arm.

“Not that I know of.”

“Pity. But will you dance with me? Just once, oh please, please Ada. And then I will go to sleep, I promise.”

He snorted indignantly.

“Dance with you? After you’ve bitten me?”

“Yes?” She said, hitching the most innocent look possible onto her face “It was the wolverine that bit you after all, not me.”

If she continues like that, she will have ME ready for bed soon, Elu thought exasperatedly, but got to his feet all the same, praying that no-one would dare to spy upon their king now, and watch him make an utter fool of himself. Or at least nobody who did not know that getting an elfling to sleep was much harder than it sounded.

Elu played along offered Lúthien his hand readily nonetheless, bowing slightly to her as she took it, as if he were truly taking her to a dance at a feast. Very deep down, he did rather enjoy their games, and when would he next have time to play with her like that?

It was not long, however, until Lúthien got tired of their dancing, and let herself fall onto her back in the very heart of the clearing, gazing at the stars with very tired eyes indeed. Elu, refraining from cheering with difficulty, went to retrieve her blanket, then cautiously lay down as well, stretching out beside her to join her in her star-gazing.

“They’re so beautiful, and so many. The stars. But I think they are turning tonight.” she said in a small voice, slurring the words ever so slightly.

“That may indeed be so. They do that to little elflings who stay up past their bedtime.”

“Will they be normal again tomorrow?”

“Without any doubt. Off to Irmo’s realm you go now, Princess.”

“I want my blanket…” she mumbled, and Elu covered her in it at once. Lúthien snuggled against his chest as he laid his arms around her, and the sheer vastness of the love he felt for her left him sore and raw within, but sweetly so. He would not trade that pain for the world.

“You took your time and my nerves tonight, my most precious little menace.” he whispered once she was asleep, her face buried in his tunic. He turned gently onto his side, careful not to dislodge her. How many more nights would pass like this, with her sleeping in his arms? How long until she would trade the safety of her parents’ bed for her own? Not that that thought was an entirely sad one, there was a part of him that very much longed to have Melian to himself again at night, but still… that he would return to sleeping in his wife’s arms he knew with certainty, whereas those cuddles with Lúthien would not return once she outgrew them. They were numbered, and rightly so. Only that made the knowledge no less painful.

But that bittersweet day was still far away. For now, she needed his warmth, especially today. She, too, had felt the tension and the insecurities of the evening, Elu was well aware of that. He looked forward to introducing her the her new cousin in the morning, or whenever the brand-new parents and brother felt ready to deal with the little whirlwind that was Lúthien. Elu wondered how she would adjust to having a younger elfling in the family, for until now, she had been the baby, and been pampered not only by all her family, but by the entire kingdom. He inwardly flinched. Likely, what Lúthien would love most about her new cousin was that she would have someone younger to boss around. Not that she did not try that with anyone, anyway, but being the older one actually gave her authority. Authority that she would abuse as much as possible without any doubt.

How could something that looked so innocent be such an imp, he wondered as he carefully withdrew his arm from underneath her, so that she now rested on the soft grass, wrapped securely in her blanket. Lúthien sighed and smacked her lips a little in her sleep, but did not wake, so he challenged his luck some more and pressed a gentle goodnight-kiss to her temple. He would carry her to bed later, he just wanted to savour the peace and quiet of the moment for a bit longer…

“Elu!”

He jerked awake, shaking his head to get all the sleepiness out of his eyes, completely disorientated. He had no idea where he was for what had happened, only that his brother stood chuckling beside him.

“Hush. I did not mean to startle you. But she did a good job getting you to sleep, it seems? You both looked very sweet!”

His mind clearing, Elu huffed.

“No.” he insisted, scowling at Elmo, who held a sleeping Galathil in his arms. “I got her first.”

Not that he had lasted particularly long after Lúthien had drifted off to sleep, but still his pride did not allow him to admit that. Not to his very awake little brother. Not to his very awake little brother who carried a sleeping elfling around.

Elmo put Galathil down beside Lúthien rather unperturbed, then turned to beam at Elu.

“Another beautiful little boy. Honestly, how did you manage to have a girl within this family that apparently only ever yields lads? Anyway, all are well and very happy. You go and see them, I will stay and watch over the children.”

Elu smiled, getting swiftly to his feet to embrace his brother tightly.

“Congratulations. Oh, I am so happy for you. But you stay with them, it is your grandson after all.”

Elmo laughed as he detached himself from Elu, saying:

“I have watched him being born, and besides, the only member of family who has not welcomed our precious little boy yet is you. And the children, of course. Imagine, Galathil just slept through all the birth. Completely untroubled. But that is all the better. Celebren and Galadhon deserve that little time with their new baby alone.”

“Oh, good.” Elu sighed in relief “I was worried about Galathil, about how he might be very upset by the arrival of his new sibling. He is still so very young.”

“Oh no. He was simply bored by the lack of process, so -pragmatic as he is- he decided the time was best spent sleeping. But I admit I was glad to put him down now. He’ is getting too tall to be carried around.”

A few words of parting and another hug later, Elu walked swiftly through he forest, his heart overflowing with joy and anticipation. And yet, there was also this ever-present tweak of longing and grief that came with the birth of a new child, an event that would make him think inevitably think of his own childhood and youth, of Olwë, of adventures shared with Finwë, of the bittersweet task of raising his youngest brother. He wondered sometimes how it might have been to live an ordinary life, not as a king, but a fisherman and minstrel at Cuiviénen. He wondered how it would be like to have a son also, or another daughter. But then, his wife could not be Melian, and that thought alone was enough for him to be quite content again with things as they were. And tonight, none of this mattered anyway. Tonight, the birth of Galadhon’s second son mattered, the birth of another member of the family. And the joy of that was the same everywhere, and regardless of whether he was king or not.

Stepping into a clearing that had just welcomed new life was always something magical, and he lingered in the shadows of the trees for a moment without making his presence known, just savouring the beauty of the scene before his eyes. Celebren sat propped against her husband, cradling a little bundle of white linen in her arms. Beside her, stroking her hair lovingly, sat Oropher, his face alight with pride at his sister and new nephew.

Elu remembered well when they first came to Eglador, the first ambassadors of Lenwë’s people, who had ventured over the Blue Mountains in advance of Denethor, who they claimed played with the thought of crossing the mountains into Beleriand as well, to see if the lands beyond were friendly.

Well, Elu thought wryly, they had most certainly found they were, so much so that they had made his realm their home. He was glad of it, first and foremost because his nephew had found his companion in Celebrex, but also because of the tidings from Denethor. He had but been a babe in arms when Lenwë had abandoned the journey, which had left Elu always wondering if Denethor’s birth had not indeed been the reason for Lenwë to stay in the vale of Anduin. Thônwen in particular was thrilled at the prospect of perhaps getting to know here nephew, and perhaps also learn of how her brother fared. Elu knew well that she had never regretted parting with Lenwë for the sake of her love for Elmo, but had experience enough with being parted from siblings to be certain that she would be desperate for news of Lenwë nonetheless.

Feeling almost sorry for disturbing the peace of the scene, Elu stepped forwards at last, smiling at Melian and Thônwen, who acknowledged his coming with joy, as did Galadhon and Celebren. Oropher, however, made to rise. Elu gestured him quietly to stay where he was, quelling the bitterness that this roused in him. Could he not even welcome his grand-nephew like any other elf? Must he always be king, even among his own family?

Celebren, bright as she was, must have guessed Elu’s thoughts, for she rolled her eyes at him with a wry smile on her face.

“No, I am afraid he will never learn, you need not wonder. Just ignore it. It always worked best for me.”

Everyone safe Oropher snorted with laughter at her remark, and even for him, her little slight towards him seemed to have taken the edge out of the situation.

“He is so sweet.” Melian said, once she had wrapped her arm around Elu’s waist, bringing the conversation gently back to the newborn elfling.

“Incredibly sweet.” Thônwen agreed. “And I am still so glad he is not mine.”

“Was I this bad?” Galadhon asked with a laugh.

“Oh no. Lively, yes, but not bad. Motherhood only never really agreed with me. I am much happier as a grandmother and aunt.” While all laughed, Elu gently disentangled himself from his wife to crouch down beside Celebren and Galadhon, kissing both their brows in silent congratulations, then made to take a proper look at their new son at last.

The baby had clearly inherited Elmo’s silver hair rather than the white-blond of both his parents, and overall looked very much like his elder brother- safe that he was a little larger than Galathil had been at birth.

“He is going to be tall. Look at his feet and hands, and at his fingers. He might well become as fine a harper as you are, Galadhon.”

As if to prove Elu’s words, the little baby stretched in his sleep, with a very funny grimace on his tiny face.

“He has been doing this a lot. We joked about him being like a young tree, eager to stretch to the heavens.” Galadhon agreed, smiling down proudly at his son.

Elu carefully extended one finger, only just not stroking the baby’s hair so as not to risk waking him.

“Well met, little princeling!” he whispered, trying to quell his longing to stroke that soft little silvery head.

The newborn-phase of his own daughter was still sufficiently keen in his memory, however, to do any such thing while the little boy slept. He would hold him, and cuddle him, and properly greet him, only not just yet. There would be more than enough time for that, before the little prince would be officially named and introduced to the court in a few days. This very first time, however, belonged to the young parents, new siblings and caring family among the Eglath, and the royal house was so exception to that.

“His name will be Celeborn.” Celebren added quietly, and Elu nodded his approval.

“A name well befitting.”

As Elu rose again so as to let his niece and nephew focus again on their baby, Melian put an arm around him once more and laid her head upon his shoulder, and he knew her feelings. They shared the happiness of the moment, but also the grief that came with it, the grief of knowing that they would never live through the birth of a child again themselves. That knowledge hurt, even though they both knew it was for the best.

It was fine though. They were fine. Even if life had taken turns that they had both never anticipated, the fact that they had each other, and their family, and above all Lúthien, made them blessed beyond measure.

#silmarillion fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #elu thingol #lúthien tinúviel #birth of baby celeborn #getting an elfling to sleep #one that is not tired AT ALL #work inspired by “Valerie und die Gute-Nacht-Schaukel” by Mira Lobe #which is very sadly not available in english as far as i know #fluff #eglador #years of the trees

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