- >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> -

Chapter 2.  Mother-figure

Ulbanís dropped the soiled breechcloth into the covered hamper that Sindórië would soon collect to carry to the laundry.  Rostaro, unlike the restive baby he usually was, had been cooperative while she changed him so she tickled his bare belly with her pinky fingers to let him know she was finished and he could now move as he pleased.

“Oo yess! Oo yess!” she cooed over him.  “That is sooo much better!  Yess it is!”  He gave a joyful baby-cackle of laughter, energetically kicking his little legs and slapping his wee hands against hers.  She wiggled her fingers up to his ribs where he was particularly ticklish.  “You are such goood little seldo!”  He began laughing so hard that he turned red and in no time was exuberantly silent, unable to catch his breath.  “Yess you are!  Yess you are!”  She stopped only when it looked like he could stand no more.

Panting for air, he numbly relaxed; his eagerness to romp from morning until night finally depleted.  Ulbanís smiled.  Since noon, all her efforts had been directed to tiring him out and it looked as if he would now welcome a rest as much as she.  But then in next moment, he was enthusiastically kicking again; giggling and grabbing her hands, trying to pull himself up.  “Goodness, does nothing wear you down?” she lamented, actually more pleased than resentful.

She continued to cluck at him as she sat him up and struggled to wrap him in a clean short-gown, jiggling off his hands whenever he tried to get a grip on her fingers.  She carefully tied the string closers in such a way that he would not be able to undo them – which he promptly tested.  Then, she lifted him from the table to straighten out the blanket beneath him; laying him down again to swiftly swaddle him and take him up into her arms.

“Amee!” he shouted in protest, desiring to have been set down on the floor instead.  For he was beginning to find his feet and would readily travel around the room supporting himself against the furniture and walls.  He would also beg to be held by his hands to walk with stompy baby-steps however far his helper would take him.  Being swaddle meant taking a nap and as he was not ready to sleep, he squirmed against his confinement.

“My my, nercë!  You are in such a hurry to go places!” she said with teasing scorn.  After a few more ineffectual attempts to kick out of the blanket, he stopped and began blowing through his closed lips in frustration.

With a less than sympathetic chuckle, she crossed the room and sat down in her chair by the cold fireplace.  He wanted to climb onto everything too.  So, she had made a battened box to safely occupy his efforts whenever he got into a determined mood and put up her feet on the toy because it made a good hassock as well.  Sighing, she smiled lovingly down at him.  He instantly became happy again, gazing back at her with an open smile and adoring eyes.

Holding Rostaro like this was pure bliss for Ulbanís; she delighted in looking after him.  Until this child had arrived, she would never have thought that on her rare day of rest she would willingly choose to look after such a demanding baby.  In truth, he needed no more care than some of the feeblest reborn she had looked after and was much easier to lift.  She did feel a little guilty for loving him as much as she did.  But, it was meant to be this way between mother and child, she told herself.  Even if she were only his replacement mother.  Really, it was not that often she had him here to fawn over.  As he slowly settled down, she became more hopeful that he would fall asleep before his foster-parents returned to take him home to the village.  Her yondo hated separating from his amillë, especially after a full day of her almost undivided attention.

The gate-bell rang and it startled her, rousing Rostaro.  They should not be back so soon!  A little while longer and she could have handed him over without any parting wails!  The expected knock upon the chamber door came, but it was Sindórië who quietly came in.  Instead of picking up the hamper, the sister came over to her to tell her who was at the gate.  Ulbanís looked up at her apprehensive, but Sindórië smiled and shook her head no – Rostaro’s parents had not arrived.

“There are visitors for you from Tirion.  They looked overheated so I put them in the back room,” the seler silently reported.  “Varnëcil has taken their horses and cart into the barn.”  Speaking with only the lips was an important skill in this house where every unguarded whisper or open thought might carry too much information for a troubled reborn.  “Shall they wait until Rostaro has gone?”

Ulbanís weighed the importance of finding out her visitors’ business against the convenience of getting the child to go to sleep.  She looked down at him and he was wide-awake, confidently burbling his own incomprehensible opinion of the situation.  She shook her head in amused consternation.  His tongue was going to run as fast as his feet!  A month from now, he might have to be put on a lease like a yappy puppy.  She laughed at the image and surrendered to his stamina.

“I will talk with the visitors now,” she decided, speaking aloud.  With a helping hand from Sindórië, she rose from her chair.

“Shall I take this bundle to the laundry then?” the seler joked, poking Rostaro, who pushed out his tongue at her.  “There is still room in the basket.”

“No, let us see how well he behaves with strangers,” Ulbanís said with a wink.

Together, they went to the small room at the rear of the refectory where Sindórië first knocked then opened the door for her aramilllë to enter.  Here, Ulbanís easily determined, was a noble couple and their family servants, who were a family themselves.  The four stood up from the low benches where they had been sitting against the wall.  The maid servant took the others’ cups and bowls from them, placing them upon the coverless table.  Sindórië had thoughtfully provided them with water and fruit.  If any had arrived ‘overheated’, everyone was recovered now.

The lovely lady with starlight hair only appeared to be Teleri; her jade eyes indicated otherwise.  The sable-haired lord was probably Sindar too; his features were imprecise although distinguishingly handsome.  Sindórië introduced the four with the simplest courtesy.

“Aramillë, this is Sencyllon and Hacylleth.”  The father and daughter bowed and stepped back with their eyes respectfully downcast.  But, not without exchanging glances over the baby in Ulbanís’ arms.

“Aramillë, this is Elrond and Celebrían.”  The lord and lady graciously bowed, confident.  They were people not easily awed.  There was an aura of compassion and charity about them; a giving quality as natural as breathing.

“Aramillë Ulbanís.”  She returned to them all only a slight bow as she was rather encumbered by Rostaro – who loudly shouted “Ni!” and began to struggle mightily in his blanket.  The lady chuckled, at once understanding his outburst.

“I would very much like to hold you,” she said, stepping forward and reaching out to them.  Intrigued by his reaction to the lady, Ulbanís let her take Rostaro.  “What a darling you are!” she declared when she looked down at him in her arms.

She rocked him a little and then barely pressed his nose with tip of her finger, causing peals of delight to ring forth.  She tried to loosen his swaddling one-handed and her lord came to her aid.  Watching them handled the task with ease, it was obvious to Ulbanís that they had taken personal care of their children and not depended solely upon nursemaids.  As soon as his arms were free, Rostaro reached for the lady’s hair getting hold of but a slim, loose strand since it was coiled atop her head.

“Oh ho, Mallos!  You most certainly are an ellon!” she merrily adjudged.

“Yes, he is,” Ulbanís confirmed, out of pride and to let them know she understood Sindarin.

“He is yours?” asked the amused lord as he nabbed one of Rostaro’s little feet by the big toe and shook it to draw the child’s attention.  Rostaro released his grasp on the lady’s hair and reached for the lord’s hand.

“Elrond!” exclaimed the lady, embarrassed.  “Please excuse my husband, Aramillë.  He is not familiar with your holy order.”  The lord realized his mistake and immediately apologized.

“I do beg your pardon, Aramillë!  I am ignorant of the whole institution and that is my only excuse for such rudeness.  Please forgive me.”  His plea was sincere and elegantly presented with a penitent bow of the head and a hand pressed to his breast.  Ulbanís was more than pleased to forgive.  Rostaro, on the other hand, was not at all pleased with losing the lord’s notice.  Letting loose an adamant yell, he flailed and unintentionally gave Celebrían a back-handed slap to the face, which she mirthfully berated him for.  Unrepentant, he contentedly gazed at her, not caring what she said as long as she said it to him.

So, Ulbanís thought, the lord is newly arrived from Endor.  Yet, had she not heard these names before?  The lady’s name seemed especially familiar.  Celebrían... the granddaughter of Queen Eärwen... the daughter of Artanis... who had recently returned as Galadriel... the lord was then that Elrond.  He seemed little like what Ulbanís would have expected for his being such a powerful prince.  Perhaps it was his weariness, but more likely with both these quendi it was the deceptive lack of sophistication that most of the Sindar she had met habitually hid behind.

“What a tragedy losing this precious little one must have been,” said Celebrían as she sat down on a bench and stood the blathering Rostaro up on his feet upon her lap.  Elrond looked on them enchanted, clearly remembering their own children at this age.

“Please excuse my ignorance once again, Aramillë,” begged the lord as he unexpectedly turned to her.  “The child is a rehoused?  But, he is only a baby!”

“Yes, Lord Elrond, and we prefer to say ‘reborn’ here,” she informed him.  “In fact, he was newborn when he arrived in the arms of another who was not kin.  I expect his mother is alive somewhere, else they would have come back together.  He is more than likely Úmanyar.  Sadly, his case is not so rare.”

Elrond stepped back, contemplating upon the seeming injustice of it.

“I suppose it would be unfair to never allow him the life his mother gave him,” he pondered aloud.  “And what would he know of any parent other than the ones who raise him?  He does appear lovingly fostered and will never judge his being orphaned as cruel.  But under these conditions, Aramillë, how will his inevitable question be answered?  What will you say when he wonders from whom he has actually sprung?”  As the lord posed this dilemma, a judgmental eyebrow rose.  Ulbanís held back her smile at the charming affectation. 

For he spoke with the sympathy of someone who had been orphaned himself and had been confounded by his true parentage.  She sensed that, although still a young child, Elrond was older then Rostaro when he lost his parents and had vague memories of them.  During his most tender years, those around him – although loving him – had perhaps given him too many different answers regarding his mother and father.  And he was apparently still estranged from them.

“He will be told the truth,” she replied.  “That there is no means to know save by the grace of the Valar.  And that informing such children of their parentage is not one of Their concerns.”

“Considering what circumstances could have caused him to be slain while so very young... that may well be the best policy,” he reluctantly admitted.  “For all parties.”  The circumstance he was obviously considering was a kinslaying and the hatred felt by the victims; hatred which had lasted generations.  Ulbanís preferred to think it was wolves rather than that.

“My lord,” interrupted Celebrían.  She looked askance at her husband.  “The reason why we are here?” she reminded him.  Rostaro was pulling at the shiny buttons of the lady’s dress, utterly fascinated with how they stayed stuck to her clothing.

“Yes, Lord Elrond,” asked Ulbanís, “why have you come here?”

“On a personal matter, Aramillë,” he quietly answered.  She nodded and indicated to Sindórië to take the servants out with her.  Celebrían lifted Rostaro from her lap to stand on the floor and hang off her hands.  The child immediately tried to walk to Elrond, who stooped down and extended his hands to him.  A quick transfer from the lady’s hands to the lord’s and Rostaro confidently charged into Elrond embrace.

“Or!” he shouted.  Celebrían laughed with glee when Elrond hoisted the startled baby high over his head.  Rostaro plainly thought he was only going to be held and not thrown into the air.  His breath stalled – as did that of Ulbanís – until he was deftly caught. 

“Un!” he yelped.  The lord smoothly flew him back to his seated lady where Rostaro squirmed in her lap jabbering an unintelligible description of his aerial adventure; a hand clutching her dress and an arm waving over his head with one tiny finger ineptly pointing up.

“Goodness!  Did you fly up into the sky?” Celebrían asked good-naturedly incredulous and looking up to where he pointed.

“Lord Elrond,” said Ulbanís, recalling the lord’s attention and telling herself not to allow him the opportunity to do that with the child again.

“Yes, of course,” he responded, removing his rapt grin and turning a sober face to her.  “Once again, I beg your pardon, Aramillë.”  He reached into his shirt and brought out a thin packet wrapped in a kerchief.  Removing the cloth, he chivalrously presented it to her with both hands.  “Laurefindë sends this to you.”

She stared at it, momentarily stunned.  He was alive?!  He was alive in Endor?!

“Thank you,” she replied in a weak voice as she took it into her two unsteady hands.  The lord and lady were watching her reaction, rightly interested.  But, she refused to share her pathetic excitement with outsiders and forced an outwardly calm demeanor.

“As you have, I am sure, already surmised... “  She had to take a breath.  “Laurefinde was a guest here.  And someone I never thought to hear from again.”

“We understand if you wish to read it now,” said Celebrían, bouncing the thrumming Rostaro on her knees.

“Thank you,” she said, deeply grateful for such consideration.  Indeed, she was most anxious to read it!  “Please, will you stay as my personal guests?”

“That is very generous of you, Aramillë.  My lady and I would be honored to stay,” replied Elrond with a courteous inclination of his head and shoulders.

“I will have Sindórië return and show you to rooms and help you with anything else you may need.  His foster-parents will be here soon to take him home again.  I will join you at supper if possible.”  She tucked the unforeseen letter into the wide cuff of her turned-back sleeve and hurriedly gathered up Rostaro from Celebrían.

“Nama!”  Both lord and lady bid him farewell with a childlike wave of a hand.

“Nama!” he cheerfully called back to them, holding on to Ulbanís for balance and repeatedly clasping the air with the tiny fingers of an reaching hand.  Then, he suddenly leaned back and looked straight at his amillë.  “Nama?”  His sweet face scrunched up, rapidly turning crimson in a preamble to hot tears.

“There now, lisullë,” soothed the lady, coming to stand close to them.  She stroked his darkening cheek and he became tranquil.  After another slow stroke, he fell against Ulbanís shoulder.  Another stroke – he was fast asleep.  Ulbanís was amazed!

“He was very tired,” Celebrían explained, gently patting Rostaro’s back.  Elrond anticipated Ulbanís’ next question with an oblique warning.

“An easy trick for your kin, my lady, but not for the rest of us,” he said as he opened the door for Ulbanís.  But, she cared not if it were a family secret.  Before they left, she swore she would know how it was done!

“Thank you again,” she said, grateful on two accounts.  Rostaro snuffled loudly.  “And he thanks you too.”  They all quietly laughed and Ulbanís paused in the doorway.  “On behalf of Rostaro, I will speak.  He has enjoyed very much meeting you, Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían, and hopes to play with you again someday.”

“May the stars light your path, Rostaro,” returned Elrond, speaking for himself and his lady.

Closing the door after the aramillë, he sauntered over to Celebrían, his hands lightly clasped behind his back.

“That was not a loving expression on her face when she received the letter.  In fact, it does not appear that she is at all pleased with the prospect of Glorfindel’s return.  I think you have lost your wager after all,” he said, teasingly arrogant.  However, Celebrían did not respond to his provocation.  She was distracted, still gazing after the seler and the baby.

“Rostaro... ,” she mused.  “Who named you that, I wonder?”

“Why?  Does it matter?” asked her husband, suspicious of her interest.  Celebrían looked at him annoyed that he should ask such a ridiculous question.

“Of course, it matters!”  She turned and faced him.  He knew exactly what she was thinking and brought up both his hands in a desperate halting gesture.

“Oh, no!” he said, shaking his head.  “We are not going to try and find his parents!  That is not our responsibility.”  He nervously watched her as she took a breath, preparing to argue, but then thankfully relented.

“You are right,” she said in a mild tone, only appearing to give in.  “ ‘Tis the wrong time to take on such a task.  Maybe when Naneth leaves Lórien and can be of help.  It could be something to occupy her until Ada arrives.”

“Celebrían, forget this entirely – right now!” he daringly ordered.

“Why?” she asked with a patronizing smile instead of railing him with her own instructions, which only meant she thought he had no reasonable arguments to make.

“Because the aramillë would have undertaken it herself if it were the right thing to do.”  He felt confident about that assessment, despite having had little speech with the seler.  Celebrían’s slowly changing expression told him that she was drawing the same conclusion.  Although qualified in some way.  So, he coopted her hesitation.  “Let him decide for himself.  Offer your help then,” he urged.

“Yes.”  She thoughtfully nodded then sighed.  “You are right.  Only if he asks.”

“Thank you,” said Elrond, relieved that things had not veered wildly away from any of their newly-laid plans for the future.

TBC

 >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> -

Author’s Notes:

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

nercë – ‘little man’ Quenya

quendi – elves Quenya

seldo/selde/selda – boy/girl/child Quenya

yondo – son Quenya

amillë/amil/amm‎ë – mater/mother/mom Quenya

aramillë – mother superior high mother Quenya

seler/toron – sister/brother who is not a sibling Quenya

ellon/elleth – elf male/female

mallos – golden-bell (a variety of flower)

lisillë/lisullë – sweetie diminutive of sweet, fem./masc. Quenya

amee – mama babytalk ammë Quenya

ni – me babytalk ni Quenya

or - up babytalk or Quenya

un - down babytalk un(du) Quenya

nama - bye-bye babytalk namarie Quenya

naneth/nana – mother/mom

adar/ada – father/dad

Ulbanís and Rostaro are OCs from another fanfic: Beech Leaves.