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2936

As they left the dining hall headed out of doors, Gilraen noted how Elrond seemed preoccupied, though it had been otherwise during supper. Once Estel had scurried ahead to walk aside Elrohir, she sidled closer to Elrond. "An evening fit for a poet," she said, pointing to a pair of birds perched in a flowering tree. Elrond had once commented in jest how throughout the Ages, nigh every minstrel visiting Rivendell had dedicated a song to that very scene.

He made no response, so Gilraen simply held out her hand before him, which by habit he took to his side in the manner of formal escort. Thus having his attention, she said, "I fear Estel has developed a taste for the spontaneous, and a tendency to assume all others are of like mind. I know he was obstinate and excited about going for this ride, but I could still dissuade him, if you have obligations elsewhere."

He drew a quick breath and stopped walking, his unblinking stare focused over her head. Gilraen turned. Ahead, Elrohir and Estel entered the stable just then. Nothing seemed amiss. Before she could question, Elrond resumed walking, swifter than before. She followed, soon hearing her son's alarmed voice from within the building they neared.

As she began to run, he emerged alone to stump against the entryway. "Estel, what? What is it?" Weeping, he threw himself into her arms, reaching too for Elrond. Through his sobs, Gilraen could distinguish few words, 'dead' among them, but he pointed tellingly whence he had come.

"One of the horses has perished," said Elrond. With a sigh, he joined in the embrace of mother and child, remaining so until Estel had calmed. "I go now to do what else I can."

Gilraen nodded, seeing that Elrohir lingered nearby. He made a small gesture, either summoning his father or relaying some message. "I will see to this." She kissed her son's head, talking soothingly to him as she started back for the house. Mere steps later, Estel popped his head up from her shoulder, red eyes wide and darting.

"Nana, no! Where did ada go?"

She tried to explain that he had gone to do something unfun, trying next to interest Estel in playing a game inside. The instant his eyes filled with new tears, she relented. "Let us stay by Master Elrond then."

They fell in line not far behind him. Elrohir stood now at the entry, rigid back to the frame, almost guard-like in his stance. He did not move as she passed him by, neither to blink nor to breathe, that Gilraen could tell. Even passing the eeriness of his presence, she felt engulfed by more of the same within.

Just ahead, Asfaloth laid unmoving, his saddle gear and headstall strewn haphazardly about. Elrond stood there; and cradling the beast's head, a figure sat, gold-haired and white-garbed. Gilraen had never beheld Glorfindel so wilted, so dim. Unwittingly, she paused.

"It is death." Startled by his unexpected words, she eyed Elrohir over the shoulder Estel did not clutch. The threshold fell under shadow, concealing his face and giving his voice the illusion of disembodiment. "Why it feels as though you have stepped beyond Rivendell: you walk in the footprints of death."

"I am mortal." Shifting Estel to her other hip, she shook out her cramping arm, and walked on. "We live in the footprints of death."

She came to stand near Elrond, who had crouched aside Glorfindel. Being so close gave her certainty that Asfaloth drew no breath, and she wondered at Elrond's purpose as he rested his hands upon him with bowed head. Then came a whispered incantation in Quenya, both language and significance beyond her understanding.

"I am sorry, my friend," said Elrond.

Glorfindel might have attempted a smile, nodding instead. "So am I. Sorry and selfish." The motion unsteady, maybe for lack of reason, he stroked the white coat. "We would ride so little anymore, giving his body ample time to rest. Yesterday I left him hopeful of another year, one last year. Today he asked for one last ride, knowing better than I how short his time left. Yet we got only this far, before--" Shoulders tensing, his chin fell abruptly to his chest. "He did not resist, so noble, just lied down and..." When Elrond knelt behind, straight and strong, Gilraen likened him to the shadow Glorfindel would cast on any other day.

His gaze took to roaming the form before him, then his surroundings, as though seeking something misplaced, or just missed; he spoke as if lost himself. "How many times, this, Elrond? How many times that it never becomes easier?"

Estel wept anew, clinging to Gilraen even as the Elf twisted into Elrond's embrace. As it proved evident that her son would not be consoled promptly, she took continuous steps backwards, colliding suddenly with something broad and hard. Gloved hands steadied her from behind.

"My apologies, lady, I was distracted."

"No, excuse me, I wasn't looking." Gilraen turned, peering beyond the Elf-man to see if another remained at the entrance. The shadow revealed nothing. She studied the face before her. "Elrohir?"

"He has left." Elladan did not let her get out an apology. "No matter." After a glance to where Elrond comforted Glorfindel, he looked full at her son. "What about this jaunt you pled for? I thought you would have been miles gone by now."

Estel sniffed. "I do not care to ride anymore. Asfaloth has died, and everyone cries for him. Will you hold me?"

Elladan flinched at the unusual request. "Must we stay here, if I do?" Estel shook his head, already reaching over. Taking him, Elladan said to Gilraen, "Would you accompany us into the fresh air?"

Gladly, she did so, feeling immediately refreshed, even able to find amusement in that, for once, she had been happier to see Elladan than his brother. When a hint of guilt followed that thought, she glanced sidelong. Her son cried no longer, comforted in the Elf-man's arms; seeing him held by another, she did not wonder that her own arm still ached. Soon only hearty men would have the strength to lift him.

"Thank you," she said. Elladan nodded.

They walked through the pasture, until the sun was near the horizon, and the stable a distant shape. Elladan lead them to a place amid sparse, thin trees, where the remains of what might have been broken walls provided Estel with a few moments of intense investigation. He soon returned to where his mother sat, saying, "I am still sad."

Hearing this, Elladan came to sit beside Gilraen. "Here, take a place between us." With help to scale the bench's height, he did so. Elladan said then, "Things die, Estel; plants, people, even ideas -- you know this. Asfaloth is a good and loyal horse, but he is mortal also. Had he stayed any longer with us, he would have struggled to live, and suffered in death."

"I don't want that either," said her son. "But father suffers now, and Glorfindel. They even cried, you saw."

Elladan turned his face to the setting sun, the west. "They are sad, more so than need be, which I will explain. Think of Elven grief like a lakebed, when over the Ages, sorrow by sorrow, the bed fills, becoming a pool. Undisturbed, it remains calm, but imagine now a stone dropped into the water; as it sinks, ripples spread in widening circles out to the very the rim. Incidents like this one are as stones, that when fallen upon a calm pool, upset each sorrow laid there to rest before."

Estel nestled closer to Elladan's side. Duly surprised, Gilraen noticed the Elf-man drape his arm around the boy. "Glorfindel does not weep for this severance alone, but for remembrance of every time he has bid a friend farewell. Not all partings are peaceful, as this one. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Only--" Estel looked up, squinting as his head tilted thoughtfully. "You are elvish. Why do you not ripple?"

A smile equally sorrowful and sagacious surfaced as Elladan regarded the boy. "Some ripple on the inside." They embraced briefly, when Elladan said, "Now, enough tears! You are no Elf to have so many to spare. Besides, Asfaloth will return."

Gilraen could not be certain, by Estel's exclamation, if she also had gasped. "He will? He really will?" After Elladan's nod, Estel squealed for joy. "Does Glorfindel know? Does father, and Elrohir? I must tell them!"

His expression sobered at that, Elladan stood up, lowering the Estel the ground. "They do know. You may remind them, but have a care. Remember what I said; their grief may yet dwell close to the surface, until this time of mourning passes."

"Oh, yes, I'll be gentle. But what news!" He turned to Gilraen with eyes alight, speaking before she could summon the nerve to quench his exhilaration, "Nana, is it not wonderful? He'll return!" Unanswered, he sprinted off, racing through the field.

Gilraen turned on the Elf-man, fighting an urge to slap him. "In this as in so many things, you could learn much from your brother."

"What?"

"What!" She raised a hand on impulse, lowering it in a fist as quickly. "He will not forget, Elladan, he is no fool. Months and years will pass with you coming and going as you please but he will never forget what you said this day." His innocuous look only exasperated her further. She continued pleadingly, as one might reason with an unreasonable child, "How can you pretend not to understand? How can you justify telling an everlasting untruth to brighten one dark hour? You know better, you must!"

After an initial frown, he bristled, even tossed his head. "Lady, I think of neither you nor your son as fools, and I tell no lies. But whether you understand it or not, this-- reunion will occur."

"Ah, 'reunion', is it?" Her annoyance grew twofold, that no one here spoke to her in Sindarin despite her fluency, save to replace a word or two should her reaction to the Westron equivalent displease them. "In spirit, you mean? And where, when; beyond this world? You might have told Estel as much, though he should not be so happy to hear that he must die, that his mother must die, before we can be reunited with those beloved and lost to us in life." Realizing that she spoke now on matters of little concern to Elf-kind, and that she had once again raised her hand in temptation, she crossed her arms and quieted.

Elladan looked upon her strangely, before saying, "I see that this is difficult for you to consider."

To rally whatever patience remained to her, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. "I have no desire to pursue this further at present. But one day, Estel must be told the truth, an unpleasant chore that will fall to me. I do not thank you for that." She met his eyes again, forcing herself to remember his compassion towards her son, and that in his own way, he meant well. "For being a comfort to him, I am grateful. Good day."

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