Between Twilight and Dawn

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate.

Author’s notes and responses to reviews follow the chapter.

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Chapter Two

The young guard stood at his post, his grey gaze sweeping across the hall once more. His eyes could see much in the dim lighting: glints of gold and silver threads in the heavy tapestries on the walls, branches and leaves of the stone trees crossing the arched ceiling, and the pattern of small white and yellow flowers on the deep green runner that was spread out along the entire length of the floor to hush hurrying feet.

He stood with both hands resting on the long spear in front of him, one thumb idly rubbing over a metal star that had been affixed to the weapon in blessing. Had the bit of silver blessed the one who had last possessed this spear? The guard let his eyes drop to the tiny emblem as he chewed on his inner lip. Most likely not.

At the guard’s left the door began to open quietly, and he straightened, surprised to have an interruption in his nightly watch. A very small person slipped out, pausing to look up and down the long hall, and then two bright eyes caught his own, widening.

Elurín stepped backwards into his room, his arms tightening around the lumpy bundle he held. He had not expected anyone to be out there! There had never been anyone outside in the hallways at home, especially not anyone with a big spear. He hurried back through the playroom and into the bed chamber, kneeling down at the side of his brother’s bed. Eluréd had curled up into a lump under the blankets, his face half-buried in the much wadded pillow.

“I want Nana,” Elurín moaned in a whisper, shaking his brother’s shoulder.

“What?” Eluréd lifted his head, blinking back sleep’s hold.

Elurín stood up, arms tight around the bundle again, “There’s a big Elf by the door.”

Eluréd didn’t answer, but got out of bed and padded to the doorway, his brother at his heels. A big Elf by the door. Why was Elurín always so afraid of anyone he didn’t know? The big Elf was probably one of Ada’s friends. Sometimes Ada stayed up very late talking with the other grown-ups. If he checked outside, maybe Ada’s friend would get Ada to put Elurín and himself back to bed.

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The guard in the hallway was somewhat relieved when the child came back, having worried that he’d frightened him. There was a long pause as the little boy came all the way out of the room to sit against the wall, his bare feet drawn up under a long cold-weather nightshirt. The guard raised an eyebrow, having no idea why the child simply sat there, offering no explanation for his presence. “Is something wrong?” he finally ventured, turning his full attention to the child.

“Where’s my Ada?” Eluréd took another quick glance at the big Elf. Elurín had not mentioned that he had a spear, or that he had been dressed as a soldier.

“Sleeping, as you should be,” The guard grinned, extending a hand for the child to take.

Eluréd stayed on the floor, bunching the hem of his nightshirt in two hands and holding it tight around his toes. It was cold out here in the hall, and it gave him a reason to avoid looking at the guard. “Why are you here?”

“I am the guard for your room,” the tall Elf responded matter-of-factly, then realized that the child had probably never been aware of his presence before, “I am only here at night though.”

“Oh,” Eluréd nodded slowly, beginning to understand. Once when he had had a bad dream Nana had taken his hand and brought him to his doorway, tracing her finger around the doorframe. No bad dreams allowed past here, she had said, The dream guard is going to stand right here and will only let the good dreams inside. Nana had told him that you couldn’t see the dream guard, but maybe Menegroth was special, because he could see this guard. Further down the hall was another guard at Ada and Nana’s door, and one in front of the adjacent nursery where Baby Elwing slept. Eluréd’s gaze lingered on his sister’s guard for a moment. What did little babies dream about?

Eluréd twisted around to lean into the doorway where his brother was waiting. “It’s all right,” he whispered assuredly, “He’s a dream guard.” 

A dream guard? Elurín peered around the doorframe, scrutinizing the guard’s appearance. Stars were for nighttime, and there were silver stars across his grey tabard. He wasn’t so sure about the spear though…but maybe bad dreams needed some prodding in order to leave. At least the spear was not for prodding small people back into their beds.

“Can you guard us if we’re with our ada and nana?” Elurín shuffled into the hall, his worry dissipating when the tall guard relaxed and smiled.

“I think so.”

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When two small bodies scrambled onto his bed, Dior was rather surprised. The boys had both been so exhausted lately that they had easily fallen asleep in their own beds. Their movements roused Elwing, who had been sleeping in her cradle at Nimloth’s side. Soon the formerly peaceful bedchamber was filled with the baby’s long, high-pitched screams, Nimloth’s hushing whispers, and Eluréd and Elurín’s concerned questions.

“She’s only hungry,” Nimloth told them, her voice tired as she drew Elwing from the cradle. She settled back against the bed pillows, setting the baby to nurse, “Hungry, hungry baby.”

“She is hungry!” Elurín exclaimed, snuggling close to his mother’s arm and watching Elwing’s hurried gulps, “Did I eat like that?”

“You were not in such a hurry,” Nimloth responded evenly, glancing from her daughter to her son.

Eluréd had by now settled himself close to Dior, and was leaning with his chin on a bed pillow, “What about me, Nana? Was I faster than Elwing?”

“No, you were the very slowest, nin mell!” Dior ruffled his son’s hair, his laughter quieting as he remembered his wife’s many trials in getting both twins to nurse at the same time. He glanced to Elurín, noting the yellow bundle the child had on his lap, “What have you got there?”

“Oh!” Elurín exclaimed, earning an annoyed look from his mother as Elwing hiccupped a surprised mouthful of milk.  He pushed away the folds of the small yellow blanket, depositing a heavy metal box on his father’s lap, “Look, Ada. You forgot it.”

“Hmm,” Dior picked up the music box in his hands. He had forgotten it on purpose.

Eluréd stretched out a hand to finger the metal filigree of the cover, noting that the lacy shapes made birds and flowers. “What does it play, Ada? Can we hear it?”

“It plays a song,” Dior told his sons, “A song that you know.” A song that he knew, that had been sung to him in a voice sweeter than his own mother’s. He had not seen his grandmother often, but she had supplied him with precious memories nonetheless.

A few turns of the key and the metallic plinking began, a strong melody and soft notes behind. Dior set the box on the bedside table, letting the music flood his children’s heads, and then singing the small bit that clung most fiercely to his present awareness.

Nin mell, nin gell

Amin meleth lle, tithen êl,

Nin tithen êl.

“Nin mell, nin gell, nin tithen êl,” Dior tapped each of his children on the forehead, the melody of the song still ringing somewhere in the back of his head. He sat against the headboard, not entirely sure why he felt so wide awake. Both his sons were peacefully asleep, probably for the first time in weeks. Eluréd was curled up against his own side, safe beneath one of his father’s arms, and Elurín had decided to stretch out across the bed, his head snuggled against one of Nimloth’s knees. Dior took in the sight, and then lifted his eyes to gaze at his wife beside him. Nimloth was silent but aware, her eyes on little Elwing still nursing contentedly.

This was the way it was supposed to be.

It was, in fact, a glimpse at what he had thought life would be with his wife and three children. It was certainly not comfortable to share a bed with all of them, nor was it ideal, but all five of them were in the same place, and at the very least the children were content.

Dior allowed himself a tired smile as he dragged a blanket over Eluréd. How had he and Nimloth ever ended up with three small children?  It had seemed so very right at the time…his parents would not be long in the world, and he had wanted them to enjoy the furtherance of their line while they yet lived. The house at Lanthir Lamath was quiet, and though all of Beleriand might be ringing their hands, it seemed, indeed, a good place for children.

And it had been. There had been many nights holding blanketed little ones on the airy balcony, letting the steady rumble of the falls put them at ease. Only a short walk away were small pools with grassy banks where they had spent several afternoons, and the house itself had seemed a home. Dior drew in a long breath, remembering the place where he had expected to spend centuries with Nimloth. The long staircase had had a different proverb carved into each step; and there were the window seats where they would sit with the boys on early mornings to watch deer lapping water from little blue ponds outside. The stars could be seen from every balcony and window---one never had to walk several flights of stairs to see them. Such happy times…

He had never anticipated his grandfather’s death or his grandmother’s departure. Halfway through Nimloth’s pregnancy with Elwing his father had called him away to battle, and he had hardly made it home for his daughter’s birth. After that they had made the long journey to Doriath, and here they were in Menegroth, their lives all turned upside-down.

An annoyed squeak from Elwing interrupted Dior’s thoughts, and he turned to see Nimloth shifting the protesting baby to her other side.

“Somebody is not happy,” he whispered, reaching over to tickle the toes of one of his daughter’s tiny pink feet. This only aggravated her more, and she soon commenced to kicking against his palm.

 “If your daughter could have her way, she would spend her every waking moment eating,” Nimloth sighed, pushing a stray strand of silvery hair behind her ear with her free hand. She took her husband’s hand in an effort to keep him from irritating Elwing further, “Now, are you going to get up and put the boys to bed?”

Dior laced his fingers through his wife’s, “They might wake up again. Let’s just keep them here.”

“All right,” Nimloth drew in a deep breath, already anticipating a night of kicks and turns of the blankets. She sighed, tipping her head towards her husband with a small smile, “Pleasant dreams to you, whatever they might hold.”

Dior let his gaze drop to their interlaced fingers, stroking Nimloth’s thumb with his own.

“They hold this,” he let her follow his gaze as he looked over their children again, “They hold this.” 

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Author’s Notes

Dior’s song (or Melian’s, actually) is incredibly simple:

My dear, my joy

I love you, little star,

My little star.

If you must have a tune to go with this, try a slowed down version of the Beetles’ “My Michelle”. Not very Elvish, but that’s what was running through my head at the time. *smirk*

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There is an illustration for this chapter. If you would like to see it, please note it in your review or an email. (Note: Nimloth is nursing Elwing in the drawing, though there is not much to see.)

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Responses to Reviews---A big Thank-You to all of you for taking the time to leave a review! It means a lot to me, especially since this is my first attempt at writing Silm-fic.

*Dragon-of-the-North: First of all, thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for your encouragement, both in your review and via email.

I’m glad you enjoyed the beginning of the chapter---it actually started as what it appears to be, and I changed it as I wrote.  I think it has fulfilled its purpose. *smirk*

As you probably noticed in the chapter, it was indeed Melian’s music box. It very well could be the song of the nightingales---Eluréd was admiring the shapes of birds and flowers made by the filigree.

As you pointed out with Eluréd’s musings on hair washing, everything has been that way when writing this fic…everything is overshadowed by those melancholy feelings. *shrugs* But the happier times are still fun to write, and I think there will be several. *g*

On Glassell: No, you don’t need to worry about the nursemaid being evil (though Elurín might tell you otherwise)…she is not in cahoots with Celegorm’s servants or anything. As for a rescue, it will not be in the timeframe of this story…though my overworked brain has come up with a plausible fate for the twins.

Thank-you again for the wonderful review! I enjoyed all of it!! *g*

*Dragon Confused: Thank-you for your encouragement as well---I don’t think the first chapter would have gotten up otherwise!

The boys are fighting against the population of Menegroth for their father’s attention at this point, and (rotten) Baby Elwing has made Nana off-limits for the most part. That’s tough for kids (at any age, I think!). They managed to get some attention in this chapter though. *g*

I hated hair-washing as a kid (and my mother kept my hair fairly long---so it took awhile to rinse out the soap)! My sister and I would tip our heads back during the rinses and howl like wolves…if we weren’t crying.

*Karri:  Thank-you for the review, as well as the note of encouragement!

*Elberethia: So I gotcha with my nasty opening, ah? It was supposed to be that way. *g*

Never fear, Elurín will track down his other slipper sooner or later (it was his, BTW).

Thank you for the review, and for adding me to your favorites’ list!

*Querida: There are not many stories about Dior and his family at all---and so it was a fairly untouched category for me to develop! I’m glad you enjoyed the first chapter!

*Zimraphel: I’m glad you liked the first chapter…this has taken some developing, but all in all I’m enjoying myself. Thank-you for your review!

*Anyone else: Thank-you for reading---I hope your enjoying the story. Please take a moment to let me know what you think if you have a chance---I love knowing what people think of my work.

Comments and questions are more than welcome!    ---Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)