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Far Horizons  by Bodkin

Far Horizons 3 – At Home

Galadriel was quite clearly in a towering rage.  Even before she came through the door, Celeborn could sense the sparks flying and he was aware that everyone close enough to feel her mood had made a point of getting out of her way.  For a moment he considered following their example, but then he changed his mind.  If he had learned one thing about his wife, it was that her anger should never be allowed to fester. Bleed her of her fury and she would be able to laugh about it and take a more balanced view of its cause.  Let her brood and the results could be centuries of resentment.

‘And what has put you in one of your moods?’ he asked as he rose to greet her, his words deliberately anything but conciliatory.

Her eyes flashed blue fire and her golden flow of hair seemed to have developed a life of its own.  She was beautiful, he thought admiringly – dangerous, but beautiful. It was no wonder that her parents had not been able to subdue this aspect of her character.  As an elfling, and, at that, a little elleth at the tail end of a series of sons, she must have seemed delightful even in her temper.  By the time they realised what a tigress they had raised, it would have been too late to curb her.  Only long ages of self-discipline had enabled her to show a calm and reasonable face to the world.  He supposed he should feel honoured that, with him, she was able to expose her frailties. Only, sometimes, it did not feel like an honour.

‘I came that close,’ she told him through clenched teeth, shaking a hand with thumb and forefinger held with no discernable gap between them, ‘that close to slapping your obnoxious cousin across his offensive mouth.’

Thranduil, he thought.  He should have known. ‘I suspect it is just as well you did not,’ he replied.  ‘He is quite likely to have slapped you back.’

She seemed unexpectedly taken aback.  ‘He would not!’ she said and paused before adding menacingly. ‘He would not dare!’

Her husband smiled to see her distracted.  Lanced, he told himself with satisfaction. Now her anger was leaking away, he should be able to find out what had happened.  ‘I do not see why he would not,’ he mused.  ‘You are no simpering maid. If you hit him, he should have a right to retaliate.’

She stared at him through narrowed eyes, before deciding to drop the subject.  ‘I have tried,’ she informed him.  ‘As you requested, I have tried to appease him.  I have held back from your discussions, I have put forward no ideas, I have been behaving like an inoffensive, well-brought-up lady, no more and no less – and he is driving me insane.  I am not going to make any more effort with him.  He will have to accept me as I am.’

‘It is not like you, my lady, to give up so easily after such a small space of time.’ 

‘He called me a hypocrite, my lord.  He suggested that I was sneaking around behind everyone’s back trying to ensure that I would get my own way – but that I did not fool him.  I have grown weary of tolerating his impertinence.’

Celeborn threw back his head and laughed out loud.  ‘You should see the pair of you – like cats, hackles raised, hissing and scratching at each other.  It is ridiculous!  Continue your squabbles if you will.  It will give us all something at which to laugh.’  He approached her confidently and drew her down beside him on a sofa. ‘Your enmity affords your grandsons considerable entertainment – why should we not extend the pleasure to the rest of our acquaintance.’

Silenced, she looked at him, before, almost involuntarily lifting a gentle finger to run it over the finely braided hair above his ear.  ‘You are a cruel husband, my lord,’ she said.

‘And you are an outrageous wife, my lady.  I am the object of much pity.’

‘I fear that is probably true,’ she admitted, as he turned her chin towards him and moved deliberately to bring his mouth to hers.

‘It is misplaced,’ he insisted. ‘I married a redoubtable warrior, true, in the guise of a fair princess, but I fail to see why that should be something to regret. If Thranduil refuses to see your strengths, then that is his loss.’

She rested her head briefly on his shoulder. ‘It is so infuriating,’ she sighed.

‘May I return to my work now?’ he asked after a few moments.  ‘If you have quite recovered from your tantrum, that is.   You now have to go and coax our attendants from their hiding places or we will have no dinner tonight.’

‘Celebrian is coming,’ she said with clear pleasure.  ‘She is bringing Elrond and our grandchildren.’

‘In which case it will be important to have food prepared,’ he suggested. ‘They will not want to have to count on your skills to provide a meal.’

She ran her fingers along his jaw.  ‘You are quite as rude as your cousin,’ she complained. ‘I do not know why I do not find you equally irritating.’   The knowing look in his eyes was enough to make a faint flush stain her cheeks as she rose.  ‘Carry on with your papers if you must. I will see you later.’

She had clearly managed to placate the staff, he thought, as he looked with satisfaction at his family gathered round an elegantly laden table.  It was for this that he had finally persuaded himself to take ship and, at moments like this, he could not understand why he had waited so long.  Seeing Celebrian bright-eyed and mischievous leaning towards a relaxed, unburdened Elrond was worth the journey in itself.  His love for his daughter held an unchanging strength that warmed him when other fires faltered and at least a part of his dread of these lands was that she might not have found the healing she sought.  But there was more to his current content than that, he admitted.  He had grown accustomed to the wary defensiveness of his grandsons, to their dull expectation of being hurt, and to look at their faces; light, open, full of joy, was to see them as they should always have been.  He could thank their wives for that, he thought. No longer were they enduring the unrelenting pressure of dwelling in a dying land: they had been freed.  And then – there was Galadriel.  He smiled as he looked at her – cool, elegant, authoritative: who would see in her the hot-tempered, demanding, intelligent, ferociously independent lover and wife who had been keeping him on his toes throughout more years than he could count?  He had been astonished when he learned how deeply she had grieved for his absence and he was still amazed by the wholeheartedness of her welcome for him.

‘Well, Elrond?’ he asked finally, as his grandsons were cracking nuts between their fingers.  ‘Have you spoken to your sons?’

‘I have,’ he said, fingering the stem of his wine glass, twisting it and admiring the way the light caught the deep red wine.

Elladan looked at him, his expression enthusiastic and his eyes brilliant.  ‘Our own lands!’ he said.  ‘It is an opportunity not to be missed.  I only wish that Glorfindel had taken us with him – it does not seem right to be left out at this stage.’

‘Neither would it be right to deprive your son of his adar or your wife of her husband,’ his daeradar pointed out.

‘There will be time in plenty,’ Elrond added.  ‘We are not in the position of having to rush.  You and your family will undoubtedly be able to travel later, when the site is chosen and the environment more suitable.’

‘Can you see Elladan sitting peacefully at home whilst others have the fun, though?’ Miriwen laughed. ‘I would not wish to be the cause of his torment.  I am sure there will be need of envoys to travel back and forth.  If you wish me to survive, please allow my husband to be among them!’

Elrohir’s face showed clearly that, despite his reluctance to be apart from his wife, he, too, wished to be part of the project.  His wife smiled at him and took his hand.  ‘I must agree,’ she said softly. ‘Elrohir needs to share in this.  I will miss him when he is away, but I cannot keep him at home. It would be selfish.’

Celebrian smiled.  ‘It does seem a satisfactory compromise,’ she agreed. ‘You cannot leave home indefinitely – you are needed – but, if you liaise between us and the expedition, you will be able to involve yourself in both ends of the project.’

‘However, although it is possible that you will be required to visit Glorfindel and his team, there are many others who can carry messages.  From you, my sons, we ask for more,’ Elrond said, knowing that his words were likely to be received with less enthusiasm.  ‘This matter will take organisation – and we need to bring more people into that aspect of the scheme.  You are no longer elflings, but lords of your people.  Your main role in this task will not involve exploration, but will have to be that of managing others.’

Galadriel laughed as Elladan gazed at his adar in silent, open-mouthed horror. 

‘Adar!’ moaned Elrohir. ‘It is one thing to manage warriors, but it is quite another to have to work on something of this size.  There will be all sorts of things – personnel, food, building materials, trading agreements, equipment, stock – and that is just what occurs to me instantly!’

‘I can see you will be of value to us, my daerion,’ Celeborn remarked.  ‘You clearly have a good head for this.’

‘Just as I clearly do not,’ Elladan said hopefully.  ‘I will be of far more use elsewhere.’

The glance his brother threw him was full of disgust.  ‘Thank you, my twin.  You have my support, too.’

‘Neither of you will escape,’ Galadriel informed them.  ‘You have rested long enough. It is time for your lives to develop purpose.’ 

‘Legolas said we would not evade this trap,’ complained Elladan.  ‘We knew that his adar would insist on him slaving away as his right hand, but we were hopeful that you would see us as being suited to other roles.’

Elrond shook his head and smiled at his sons with genuine amusement. ‘I have been too easy on you both.  You, Elrohir, have been working as my aide for some time – and you will continue in that task.  Elladan – your daeradar will be availing himself of your doubtful assistance.’

‘A major part of your role, Elladan and Elrohir, will be to develop links with the son of Thranduil,’ their daeradar consoled them.  ‘We need to work as a team in this, if we are to achieve the greatest success, and we feel that you are probably essential to that aim.’

‘Are you displaying low cunning here, my lord?’ Galadriel looked at her husband, a slightly cynical expression apparent.

Celebrian giggled.  ‘If Thranduil cannot bear to deal with you, naneth, then perhaps he will find it easier to work with my sons.  And at least it will keep you apart.’

‘I hate to suggest that the son of Oropher deserves this fate,’ she replied coolly, lifting her eyebrows.

‘My lady!’  Sirithiel protested. ‘Are you suggesting that Elrohir and Elladan will be inefficient?  Or that Legolas will not be competent?’

‘No,’ she relented. ‘They will do well – once they have resigned themselves to performing their duty.’

‘I have never understood,’ Sirithiel paused for a moment, as if wondering whether to complete her query, then continued, ‘why Thranduil is so hostile.  He usually seems to be very pragmatic – but he is most unreasonable when it comes to Lady Galadriel.’

‘It is a long story,’ Celeborn answered kindly after exchanging a look with his wife, ‘that dates back a very long time – and I doubt the cause is what you would imagine.’

‘It was my fault in the beginning,’ the lady admitted, ‘and we allowed it to get out of hand.  All the things that people blame for his bristling at the sight of me are doubtless true – I am of the Noldor, I am an Exile, I was subject to the curse of Mandos and I am certainly not the type of female he admires – but my true sin, the offence that has caused several ages of intense dislike was to say, in front of his adar, that he was just like my brother.’

‘You said he was like your brother?’ Miriwen said blankly.

‘Was that intended as an insult?’ questioned Elladan.

‘Which brother?’ Elrohir asked curiously.

‘Orodreth,’ his daernaneth answered simply.

‘I have never quite understood why Oropher should have found that simple comment so aggravating,’ Elrond remarked.

‘I believe he did not care for Orodreth,’ Celeborn stated.  ‘In fact, I am of the opinion that he loathed him.’

‘And anyone who had met Orodreth would undoubtedly have agreed that there was a considerable likeness between him and Thranduil,’ Galadriel added, an edge to her voice.  ‘Both in looks and character – which is, presumably, why my words so incensed his adar.  Oropher was most displeased when Celeborn and I wed and he made sure that Thranduil was kept aware of every failing of mine, whether real or imagined.’   She shrugged.  ‘I became the symbol, I think,’ she said, ‘of every slight or insult or offence committed by any Exile against any Moriquendi.  There is no reason behind it now – and, unfortunately, probably nothing that can be done to eradicate it.’ 

‘Actually, Naneth,’ Celebrian said reflectively, ‘there is an element of sibling squabbling about the way you and Thranduil behave. You really do fight like brother and sister.’ 

Galadriel shuddered. ‘Enough,’ she commanded. ‘I wish to hear no more on the topic.’

‘Tomorrow,’ Elrond announced, ‘we will hold a meeting to discuss the reports we have received from Glorfindel and others and consider the information and advice which has been sent.’  He smiled. ‘We have arranged for copies to be made.  As it would be as well for those involved to read and digest what has been said beforehand, I think we should draw the evening to a close.’  Celeborn offered him a sheaf of documents, leaving him to select one set before he proceeded to divide the remainder between Elladan and Elrohir. 

‘One between two,’ Celeborn stated dryly. ‘I am sure you can each share the facts and figures with your wife.  After all, that is what I do.’

 





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