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Chapter Three – A Sad Demise

Hrassa stood face to face with Celeborn, waiting upon the prince’s next move.  He dared not let his neutral expression slip and lose his only means of keeping Celeborn guessing and engaged.  The Lord allowed the strain upon Hrassa’s control to build before he ever so slightly advanced upon him. 

Celeborn’s eyes narrowed and his jaw shifted.  Without the aid of voice or thought, Hrassa knew what Celeborn was thinking.  There in his hard stare was one of the most terrible accusations that could be leveled at any warrior.  Hrassa also knew he had little choice in how to answer it.  Either he braved it out with dignity or crumbled in admission. 

Mustering all his pride and determination, he forced himself to withstand Celeborn’s accusing glare.  The last thing I’m going to do is beg mercy for being a little wayward.  The Lord’s expression did not change.  Well then… very... wayward.  He had gone without taking proper leave.  But even the most faithful hound will sometimes run off, seemingly without reason.  You know yourself that distance does not lessen loyalty.  The Lord’s jade eyes continued to bore into him.  So what if it has been almost four ennin?  Oh but please, do forgive me for not getting myself killed just so I would have a proper excuse for not running back home in a wink!  Still no change.  It looked like humor, flippant or grim, was not going to save him from the worst.  Was Celeborn even listening?  Just what do you expect me to do?  Whine and lick your boots?

He set his own jaw, focusing on one firm truth.  I did not desert you!

Celeborn closed his eyes in concentration.  He slowly drew a deep breath through his nose and released it through slightly parted lips.  Opening his eyes, his brow unfurrowed and all emotion fell away.  But by cleansing himself of his anger, Celeborn also drained away his warmth.  Even so, Hrassa was glad for winning this small bit of ground.  He had avoided being rashly judged and condemned outright.  His satisfaction was extremely short-lived however, for then the Lord did exactly what Hrassa did not want.  He turned his attention to the fidgeting little princess. 

“Celebrian,” he said – the cold calm with which he spoke chilled the very air, freezing the girl solid.  “Go to the Lady and inform her that I am seeing to an unexpected... guest.”  His cold stare stilled Hrassa’s tongue before he could part lips in an attempt to speak.  “Say to her that I request she punish you for your escapade.”  Oddly, after these icy words, where Hrassa had expected her to remain frozen in trepidation, the child defrosted with a snap.  Now she looked more sorry, but certainly less afraid.  Perhaps she had discovered, as had he a long time before her, that Galadriel was not as inventive at enforcing discipline as Celeborn.  “Now.”

“Yes, Ada!” she replied with an undeniable undertone of relief, as if she had indeed escaped any punishment.  She scurried away fast as a squirrel despite her cumbersome apparel.

Hrassa looked to Celeborn, incredulous at what he had heard her say.  Or rather what she did not say for a respectful fosterling would have said ‘Adar Celeborn’ not...

“... Ada... ?”

“Yes.”  The Lord nodded, his mouth pulling into a thin line, chagrined at her antics.  “Yes,” he said in Laegrim Nandorin.  “She is our own.” 

With this, Celeborn broke into a joking smile, greatly amused at Hrassa’s loss of aplomb.  He softly laughed; his smile brightening.  Then, intense as a brilliant lamp suddenly unshuttered, his spirit shone forth beyond simple pride in his offspring. 

There was joy bubbling up irrepressible as a mountain spring; a clear fountain flowing out from a deep, pure source.  It washed over Hrassa, soothing and smoothing away his anxiety.  His long fading sense of self-consequence was startlingly revived.  What he did with his life mattered.  Living an honorable life was not a sacrifice – it was a privilege!  This blinding truth ebbed into a glowing liquid peace that ran off like rainwater from the leaves of his past days and collected in the sparkling, green pools of the smiling Lord’s eyes.  Thus he remembered why Celeborn was Caun-anim.

“Congratulations, my prince!”  Well done!  Joy was definitely in order.  If any had asked him before this moment, Hrassa would have said that the Lord and Lady would remain forever childless. 

Despite Galadriel’s heartrending courage, after several attempts, there had been only painful disappointment and loss.  From which no cure was to be found at the hands of any healer.  The wise knew it had naught to do with the doom of an Exile.  It was their personal tragedy.  Obviously once more, not by the power of one or of the other alone but by combining their strength, they had surmounted what seemed unbeatable misfortune.

“Thank you, cogndîr!”  Celeborn clasped Hrassa’s arm and both threw their arms around the shoulders of the other.  They closed in the tight embrace of warriors who were also dear comrades.  When they released, there was no more strain between them.  All their arguments, all their trespasses against each other, were mutually set aside for the sake of reunion and happy news.

“How is it I’ve heard nothing ‘til now of this welcome miracle?” Hrassa asked.  He was eager to know.  “For I’ve kept my ear to the ground.”  Celeborn gave him a smug smile. 

“She was born in Lothloríen and is unknown to most.  Many even now do not realize that she is our daughter and not another of our wards.  Apparently, people think we long ago lost the desire to have children of our own.”  Hrassa chuckled to himself.  He knew he could wager his treasured knife that Celeborn and Galadriel would never completely turn their minds to other things.

“More likely they think as I thought.  That children of your own were not part of your fate.”

“Well, as much amusement as I get from seeing people suddenly realize the truth – and that it was made so by will and not just wont – I dislike having it talked around.  Though there be much time yet, I dread the many suitors that shall appear.”  He looked pointedly at Hrassa.  “Her current admirers are enough of an annoyance.” 

Outwardly Hrassa kept a straight face, but inwardly he was laughing.  Celeborn had always disapproved of his high regard for the Children of Elmo.  Apparently, he was so convinced this fascination held his bowman so fast that Hrassa was deceased rather than departed.

“Then let me comfort you some, my prince,” he offered.  “Though I’ve indeed been captivated... ” he cocked his head toward his former cell “... I’m not enthralled.  Not any more than I was by you or your lady or Nimloth.”  After all, he had walked away from the Lord and Lady and had stayed away until now.  The Rîn he had simply worshiped as any warrior should his queen.  His loyalties were not any more insane then Celeborn’s.

Celeborn grinned, not quite believing him, but all the same accepting his words.

“If you say so.”  His cheerful expression changed, becoming perplexed.  A shade of the same hurt Hrassa saw before was there again.  “Hrassa, you disappeared on a simple errand.  I had everyone out looking.  My lady wearied herself into exhaustion for sight of you.  We reckoned you dead, mellon-nin.” 

Being called his prince’s friend was disarming.  As he was sure it was meant to be.  But, he was not ready to discuss his long absence from their household.

“I got lost,” he replied with a light shrug.  “It’s taken me a while to get my bearings.  I’m very sorry to have grieved you.”  He sincerely meant his apology.  Never had he wished to distress his prince, the Lady, or any friend.  He had gone away rather than do that.  But still, distress is what he had caused.  That they would so want him back had never occurred to him.  What unintentional hurt might his return inflict upon them all?

“Quite a long while.”  Celeborn rested his hand on Hrassa’s shoulder, pressing gently.  “You have been missed.”  Enervating warmth flowed through the touch into Hrassa.  The Lord was not going to let him get by with so little explanation.  “And I think you have but suddenly left the hidden paths you have been on.  Why return from Eryn Dûr now?” 

Hrassa felt compelled to answer.  Though somehow not urgent, his answer was much wanted.  Why?  Celeborn only became impatient with people when dealing with truly important matters and he himself was not that important.  How should he answer, at least for the moment, without refusing to answer at all?  Well, since he was only a simple elf... he would tell the simple truth.   

“I saw her in the market place.” 

Looking surprised, Celeborn removed his hand.  He flourished a glad smile as if relieved of some particular worry.  This piqued Hrassa’s curiosity and he was poised to ask what his prince had expected his answer to be.  However, Celeborn immediately went on.

“Ah, then I am sure you chose to let her see you.  And then she chose to snag you.  It might have been anyone with an interesting mime that caught her attention.”  He waved his hand in a vague gesture, both dictatorial and dismissive.  “More importantly, her willfulness was thwarted by mine.  So it does not count.”  Hrassa laughed aloud, completely forgetting his pending question. 

In the past, they had had a long running debate about fate and free will.  His prince was all for will and he for fate.  Apparently, Celeborn considered the discussion merely suspended and was ready to start it up again – as was he.

“Even so, ‘twas I she took!  Someone you know very well!  Additionally, I was aware of her breeding though not her kinship.  I’d no expectations of being brought here.  Yet see, she has returned me to you.  That’s beyond coincidence or intention – ‘tis fate.”

“No, I disagree, for you chose to let me see you as well.  Though I probably would have recognized you soon enough.  Celebrian did not intend to turn you over to me and I got you from her anyway.  It would have been another day before Hendituo’s return and his seeing you on his roster by that given name.  Why, you would have been put back out on the street or to work in the brickyard.  Certainly, not brought to my attention.”

“Another day longer and then I might have had the time to find out why she’s so ignorant.”  Celeborn took affront at his undeniably clever daughter being called ignorant. 

“She is not!” he exclaimed with not-quite-mock indignation.  “You of all people to say such a thing!  She possesses more history and lore than you find in many adults who would dare to call themselves learned.”

“She knows naught of the Elmoi.”  Hrassa let his disappointment show.  “Of what she is.”

“She knows her family – their names, their places, their deeds.  She is just too young to know all about them.  Be assured she knows what she is.  Galadhrim, as we are no longer Doriathrim.”  Celeborn’s words were firm, self-convincing.  “And that is all we are since there is no more Elmoi.”

“Of course there is!”  Hrassa was more incredulous at this statement then Celebrian calling the Lord her ada.  Was this another joke or did his prince mean to bait him into a new argument with this proclamation?

“Let me be clear,” Celeborn quickly rejoined.  “We do not deny our kin nor they us.  But, the nothrim that grew up around Elmo and Oioloth is no more.  It has been scattered and no longer has a center.”  His prince looked uncharacteristically befuddled.  “You have not seen this?”  With no further reply from Hrassa, he became concerned, leaning towards him and putting his hand solicitously on Hrassa’s arm.  “This upsets you?”

“Yes,” Hrassa admitted.  He was indeed upset.  His mind told him that nothing alive remains unchanged.  He had returned and – very reasonably – things had changed.  Much for the better.  So the clan had faded away.  What was different now than a moment ago?  Had it not actually disappeared from his life long ago when he had trailed off?  Yet despite accepting this, his heart continued to hurt.  Was he so foolish as to think it would always be there with or without him?  With a sigh, he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Pardon me, my prince, if I mourn at this moment, for I did not before and they deserve it.”

The worthy nothrim he had been one of was decreed gone.  They had been the guardians of their peoples, quietly proud in their unheralded duty.  Whether Falathrim, Doriathrim, or Laegrim, the unseen badge they all had worn was the name of the loyal Elmo.  More than a clan or brotherhood – practically a kindred all of their own.  However, even though he now gave them their due, acknowledging the Elmoi as history brought no relief of his... woe?  Exactly what was it he was feeling? 

“Please forgive my bluntness,” said Celeborn.  He moved his hand to Hrassa’s back, offering sympathy, genuinely wanting to comfort him.  “But, you surely knew the end was coming before you went away.  Indeed your disappearance was part of our demise.”  Hrassa calmly nodded, only lifelong habit kept his emotional turmoil contained behind a blank face.  However, Celeborn knew him too well and could sense he was struggling with strong feelings.  “Tell me of your sorrow.” 

It touched Hrassa that his prince was more than willing to share his sadness, that he kindly sought to relieve him of his... ?  What manner of sorrow was this? 

He took a breath to speak.  Only he had nothing to say.  He simply could not sort it out well enough to articulate it, not even in a vague thought.  It was incredibly visceral.  As if his instincts were fighting, and not quite succeeding, to best his intellect.

Something else, some other conclusion about the Elmoi, was deeply unsettling, not just the dissolution of the clan.

TBC

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Author’s Notes:

All elvish is in Sindarin unless otherwise indicated and underlined means I put it together myself – corrections and comments are welcome!

ennin – year/years – a Valarian year consisting of 144 sun years

mellon-nin – my friend

adar/ada – father/dad

nothrim – members of a household or clan (a nos)

Caun-anim – My Prince, prince-mine literally prince-for myself

cogndîr – bowman  Nandorin

Elmoi – the kindred of Elmo and his descendents; another way to say the Children of Elmo

Oioloth – OC wife of Elmo

Eryn Dûr – Dark Wood – a Nandorin euphemism for having gone missing or lost in madness

reminiscent of Nan Elmoth