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curiouswombatFriends who remember the birth of the Returnverse stories may recall that they grew out of my Buffyverse fics. And that the last words of 'Return of The Key' were Tindómë found herself wondering if, with enough concentration, she might be able to ‘find’ Spike…
Almost since the first words of the Prologue of 'Return' formed in my head, the whole story line mapped itself out - and I have always planned to return to that last line of 'Return' - it was just sitting and waiting for me to do so.
Finally, with the Elves having been in Valinor for a little while, the story time-line has arrived at that point; and I have begun to write down the tale in which Dawn, aka Tindómë, begins the Search For Spike.
Other, more Tolkien based friends, may remember me saying that I fully expected Haldir to be re-embodied in Valinor and have a role to play....
So - here we have the prologue and Chapter One of
The Valinor Trail
Words; 3,5000
Rated; PG
Characters; Dawn aka Tindómë, Spike, Haldir, Rumil, Legolas, Gandalf - and many others!! There is a 'cast list' at the end of Chapter One explaining the main characters and most of the relationships.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. (from both the Buffyverse and the works of JRR Tolkien) are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Prologue
Outside it was dark. A proper black darkness – ‘as black as a coal hole’ type darkness, as his mother would have said… if she hadn’t been dead for two hundred years.
Less light pollution. Well, less than the twentieth century, although probably not less than the nineteenth. Strange how every generation over the past couple of centuries, and more, had ideas of what the future would be like – but when you got there it really wasn’t that much different to twenty, thirty, or even fifty years before.
But the twenty-eighties did waste less energy than the nineteen eighties had. If he had been an old fashioned, traditional, bite and suck, vampire the darkness of the small town at 3.a.m. would have been most beneficial. As it was it simply allowed for quiet contemplation in the small public park.
Two hundred years ago, when Spike had been a young man about to meet Drusilla and never be the same again, public parks had been a fairly new idea. A hundred years ago, about when Buffy had been born, it had seemed unlikely that any such thing would exist in the future, and yet here he was, on a seat in a public park, breathing in flower-scented air. Cleaner than the air was one or two centuries back – nobody would have believed that, either.
He was getting used to being alone, he thought. Not in the ‘last man/vampire/whatever left on the planet’ way, which so many authors had thought probable by now, but in the ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone who knows my name for three days’ sort of way.
Another couple of weeks and it would have been Buffy’s one hundredth birthday if she’d still been alive. Still, she had made it to ninety-eight – and being immobile, and in pain if she didn’t take all the meds, wasn’t a way for The Slayer to live. She’d been happy enough to go, in the end.
Another weird thing. A hundred years ago they’d thought that either everyone would live to be at least a hundred and fifty, or everyone would be dead by the year twenty-ten because of some nuclear war or great apocalypse. Then in the early twenty-first century they’d thought everyone might die young from lack of exercise – and yet, really, nothing much had changed.
People still drove around in cars, autos, whatever you wanted to call them, not in little space craft à la The Jetsons. (‘Huh!’ Spike thought. ‘Bet there’s no-one else left who remembers The Jetsons.’) O.K. – they were powered a little differently, and computer technology made it safe to not have all the highways floodlit at night – so less light pollution – but still recognisable family autos. People still shopped in malls, and lived in houses that his Mother would have recognised, despite twentieth century predictions about people living in glass bubbles or half-mile high tower blocks.
‘The more things change, the more they stay the same…’ he thought.
Except for the being alone thing.
Up until now he’d always had family. Mother, then Drusilla, Darla, and Angelus (strange family, but family none the less), and then the Scoobies – even if they had not wanted him as family!
Buffy had been all the family he had wanted, or needed, for over seventy years. Sure, the others had been there on the fringes; Willow and her daughter; Giles and Althanea; even occasionally, until their deaths, Xander and Faith. But Buffy was the only one who truly counted; Buffy, Joyce, and Dawn.
He’d never met Hank Summers – never wanted to – and Joyce had died before Buffy had realised that she loved him. Dawn, though, Dawn had stayed in touch with her sister through all the years, across dimensions.
Poor Buffy – she had been so distressed when she had to acknowledge that Dawn, in closing the Hellmouth, had been drawn into a dimension where she felt at home, where she had a husband and a son, where she wanted to stay. She had never, really, been Buffy’s sister; and yet she had used a magical device to contact Buffy, every few years, whenever the dimensions were close enough together to allow a small window to be opened between them.
Spike knew how much this had meant to Buffy. In fact he had felt, through her last year of life, as if she was only waiting to hear from Dawn again before she relinquished her hold on life for the last time. So it had proved; after that last ‘visit’, as she lay in the nursing home bed, Buffy had told him how much she loved him, but that it was time to ‘go to her Mom’, and had died within days.
He missed her. Every day he missed her. Some days he thought it would be easiest to just come out here in the dark and fall asleep, so that the first bright rays of the sun found him, and his dust would become part of the fabric of the earth. But he couldn’t do it.
Sometimes he wondered why he couldn’t do it.
He had come to the conclusion that it was mainly because he didn’t think it would bring him any closer to Buffy. He couldn’t believe that he had atoned for all the things he had done as a vampire; that he could end up in the same afterlife, the same Heaven, as The Slayer.
It didn’t matter that Willow said that, if he believed strongly enough, the Goddess would ensure that he spent eternity with Buffy. It didn’t matter what anyone else told him either. He was, at heart, the product of Victorian Christianity, and he knew, somewhere inside, that he had committed too many sins. He knew, too, that waiting to be dusted was simply suicide – another deadly sin to add to the tally. No – there would be no reunion in the afterlife, and so no point in lying here waiting for the daybreak. All he could do was keep fighting the good fight and hoping.
‘Bloody Hell, Spike,’ he thought, ‘you’re sounding much too much like fuckin’ Angel. Time to go and kick something!’
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
There wasn’t a lot around to kick, these days.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Things had changed; in the timelessness of the Undying Lands time had made itself known, and death as well.
The two old hobbits were gone.
One autumn Sam had professed himself too tired to make jams and preserves, and had sat watching Tharhîwon, Haldirin and Ithilienne carry out these tasks. Both Frodo and Sam had been too tired to do more than nod in appreciation when Gandalf had created fireworks for midwinter – something he had not done since the first midwinter after the Ithilrim had arrived in Valinor. And then both had sat in the warming sun of springtime, smiling at the unfurling flowers and leaves, before first Sam and then Frodo had slipped away in their sleep with only a few days between them.
It had been right, Tindómë had thought, that Sam had gone first. He would have been so very upset had he outlived Frodo – whereas Frodo had held his dead friend’s hand and smiled a little.
“This time, my old friend,” he had murmured, “you have gone ahead. But do not stray too far as I will not be much behind.”
And now he had fulfilled that promise and his fëa, too, had flown free.
Legolas was distressed by the deaths, but had first concentrated on comforting Frodo and now comforting Gimli.
The first night after his adar’s death Ithilienne and Haldirin had gathered Tharhîwon up and taken him to their shared room where he had, Tindómë knew, spent it held close between the two.
This continued until the second night after Frodo was buried, beside his Sam, in a sunny spot near their home in Master Elrond’s grounds. Then Naltatamë, the female smith who had escorted Gimli to Lord Aulë’s forge, arrived at the Hobbit house where Gimli, too, lived, and said she would be happy to ensure Lord Gimli was not alone in his mourning; Legolas might go and take comfort elsewhere.
And so, for a few nights, Ithilienne was missing from the room in the family house whilst Tharhîwon walked the dream paths there, guided by Haldirin.
“They are as we were when Haldir died,” Orophin commented to Rumil, “except that Haldirin’s mourning is little beside Tharhîwon’s and so he can give without needing to take - whereas we were both in need. This shared experience will be good for them both and help them be, even more, brothers to each other.”
A few nights more and Tharhîwon felt able to sleep in the rooms that had been ready for him in the home of Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían for many years, awaiting this loss, but all his friends ensured that he did not sleep alone for many nights. Many of them had lost family or friends to death themselves, and with less finality than this loss, and they made sure that he never awoke without the comfort of another body within reach.
Over the next few months it was clear that Tharhîwon sought his comfort more with Nithdur than any other. This pleased Tindómë and her family, for Nithdur had been one of the first party to follow Legolas to Eryn Ithil, and there was almost no possibility that he would be tempted to remain at the coast when, eventually, the Ithilrim’s Lord led them to a new forest home. If there was a relationship between Tharhîwon and the leatherworker at that time, they realised, their erstwhile Winter Elfling would be most likely to come with them, despite the roles Master Elrond and his wife played in Tharhîwon’s life.
Legolas remembered Frodo’s remarks made within months of the Ithilrim arriving on these shores. “Tharhîwon sees Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían as aunt and uncle, or grandparents. But by blood he is a wood elf, and the first mother figure he remembers is Tindómë. When you move from here, to be amongst the trees, he will feel torn between staying here and going with you.”
He hoped there would be no ill-feeling; especially as Tindómë seemed to have such a good relationship with Celebrían herself.
……………….
Then came another change. A much smaller one than the deaths of the hobbits to most; but a major one to Tindómë’s family.
Haldir.
……………….
Chapter One
Haldir was finding life frustrating.
When he had been alive before it had never been like this; he distinctly remembered that he always knew what he wanted, what his role was, and that his orders would be followed.
Death had not been frustrating either. He had heard the voice of Lord Námo and, realising that he was dead, had obeyed the order and followed to The Halls of Waiting… along with too many of his wardens. He had not been sure whether he was happy or sad that his brothers were not with him, but soon gave up worrying about them. He had rested, recovered, considered his previous life and, although there had been little sense of time passing, had been prepared to leave when he was told to; ready to take up his place in his family and the general scheme of things.
But life was much less smooth the second time around and he was not sure that he liked it. Not at all.
He had been vaguely aware that his parents had been in the Halls of Waiting when he first arrived there, and then that they were no longer there. So it came as no surprise to be reunited with them when he left, and they were much as he remembered them from the first thousand years or more of his life. But to discover that his brothers were now here in the Undying Lands, but not with his parents, not with Lady Galadriel; that was almost inconceivable.
Not only inconceivable, but totally unacceptable. He had expected both his parents and Her Ladyship to agree with him. Then he would go to Alqualondë and order Orophin and Rumil to return with him. But Her Ladyship had told him that he, too, must adapt to the changes the Ring War and its aftermath had brought. Lord Celeborn had given the brothers his permission to join Legolas and she was happy about this, and about their subsequent marriages.
That was another thing, of course – Her Ladyship being here without His Lordship. Even though Haldir understood why she might have needed to sail, for her health, and that His Lordship would not abandon the Galadhrim, even if he seemed to have abandoned Lothlorien, it was still wrong that they were not together.
Haldir’s mother thought he was right, though, to expect his brothers to leave Legolas and return to their rightful place – with or without the females they had married almost as soon as Haldir’s back was turned. ‘Without’, she thought, might be better in the case of the one who was not even a proper elf! Quite what Rumil’s wife was Haldir was still unsure – but anything other than a proper elf surely should not be here in Valinor…
Adar was less forceful about it, even said that they were adults and able to make their own decisions, that both wives were perfectly suited to Orophin and Rumil, and he hoped Haldir was proud that Rumil and Tindómë’s firstborn had been named in memory of them.
But Haldir was certain that, when he brought his brothers back to where they belonged, Adar would be very happy about it.
…………………
When they first received word that Haldir was no longer in Mandos’ Halls Orophin and Rumil were overjoyed. They thought to set off almost straight away, with their wives and Rumil’s children, to go to Tirion where he had joined their parents.
But then it seemed more sensible to invite him to come to Alqualondë; it would be easier to accommodate him there than all of them in Tirion, and he could stay as long as he liked. Word was sent to him that they were thrilled at the idea of being reunited with him, but could understand if he needed to take time before visiting them; they just hoped he did not need too much time!
Then he arrived.
Within only a few weeks of Haldir’s arrival amongst the Ithilrim a number of things became obvious.
To Haldir it became obvious that his brothers were not simply going to obey his commands. They had always obeyed his commands. When they were elflings he had taught them that immediate compliance was for their safety; if he said ‘run’ they ran, if he said ‘hide’ they hid. As they began to train as warriors they learnt to still obey his commands for this reason, and also because he was their commanding officer. Even as trusted wardens his word was law and, so used were they to doing as he bid them, that he automatically took the lead in all things, whether on or off duty.
Now they listened to him say “You must return to Tirion with me,” and smiled, then said “No.”
It was obvious that it would take him longer than he had expected. He settled himself into the room his niece and nephew had given up for him, saying they could both, easily, stay with friends as long as he liked.
Rather grudgingly Haldir had to admit, at least to himself, that he was honoured that Rumil and Tindómë had named their son in his memory. And that he quite clearly took after his father rather than after his mother…which was certainly a good thing. Haldirin was tall, strong, as fair of hair as Haldir himself; yes, a nephew of whom to be, almost, proud.
He was not a warrior of Galadhrim standards, though. Yes, Haldir knew that Haldirin had grown up without the Shadow of Evil – but his uncle still felt that his training seemed to have been lax compared with what he, himself, would have put the young warrior through before awarding him his braids. It was obvious to Haldir that standards were lower outside the Galadhrim.
Rumil’s daughter, however… although she seemed a pleasant enough young elleth, what sort of name was Ithilienne?
Haldir could see the attraction of Orophin’s wife. Perhaps a little too Silvan in style and accent, when compared to one of the Galadhrim, but if she was Orophin’s soul-mate then so be it. But he missed having his brothers as unattached as he was himself; he missed having them alongside him as he encountered new ellyth.
Yes, it was obvious to Haldir that things were not as he would have wanted them to be; and it was clearly all Tindómë’s fault.
If she had not arrived from what she, and the others, referred to as a different world in such a way; if she had been less careless in that other place and not fallen down some sort of chasm that ended up at The Black Gate, then Rumil would not have encountered her. A small voice inside him suggested that if he had not managed to get himself killed at Helm’s Deep then his brothers would have marched, safely, back with him to Lothlorien and would not have been at The Black Gate; but he soon quashed that idea.
No – if she had been less clumsy, less careless, the young woman would have remained where she was, and Rumil and Orophin would have returned to Lothlorien and finally arrived here unencumbered by wives and children – and would have returned to his side; to her Ladyship’s side.
Rumil called his wife a Gift of the Valar, and said that Mithrandir had agreed that it was probably their doing that had brought her to Middle Earth, but Haldir could not help thinking that she might be less a gift than a mistake that they had hoped to lose in that other place. She was shorter than an elleth should be – almost stunted – and she seemed to have less acute hearing, poorer sight, she complained that she felt the cold, still seemed to need as much sleep as a half-grown elfling… and she even had deformed ears!
On top of that her Sindarin was oddly accented – odder than that of Legolas and the others from what was, apparently, now known as Eryn Lasgalen – she sometimes shortened words, slurred one into another, or simply used them incorrectly. Haldir really could not understand how she could have a fëa that sang to Rumil so loudly; how his younger brother could bind his soul with hers.
It was obvious to Tindómë that Haldir didn’t approve of her. She had sometimes worried, through her years in Middle Earth and now in Valinor, that the oh-so-important eldest brother would not like her, and it was clear that her worries had not been unfounded.
Had they met back in the early days, she thought, back when she had been snatched back to Sunnydale and then returned to Middle Earth unsure of herself, unsure of whether she really belonged with Rumil or was just a hindrance to him, she would have been totally cowed. As it was she was saddened.
She knew that Rumil loved her. But she knew, too, that he loved his brother. More than he did his parents; for Haldir had been both mother and father to the elfling Rumil before he had been boon companion to the adult ellon. She worried that she and Haldir would pull Rumil’s fëa in two.
To Orophin and Rumil it became obvious that death had changed their brother less than life had changed them. They had not even realised how much they had been changed until Haldir arrived.
He was both their brother and their parent and they loved him dearly. But he was no longer their commanding officer, and they realised that they were able to hold to their own decisions when they disagreed with his.
“He will come round,” Orophin said. “It will take time – but we are not short of that. He will come to love Lithôniel and Tindómë as we do. Well, perhaps not exactly as we do…”
Rumil feared it would take a good deal of time. As Elrohir had once commented, Haldir could look down his nose at people most effectively – and Rumil had seen the slight upward tilt of Haldir’s face when he looked at Tindómë.
“If he says one word out of place about Tindómë he will find just how similar my nature is to his…” Rumil vowed.
“He misses us as partners in seeking the desires of the body,” Orophin commented, “he is doubtless ‘antsy’.”
Coming into the room in time to catch the end of the conversation, Tindómë thought that it was probably as well that Haldir had not heard Orophin. The degeneration of his brothers, indicated by the use of that last word, would have been something else to blame on her. Although it was quite likely that Orophin had a point.
…………………
Quick list of people;
Spike is a vampire from Buffy the Vampire Slayer - he was turned by a vampire called Drusilla, actually won back his soul, and became one of the good guys in the series I go with the 'Spuffys' who see him as a long term partner for Buffy herself. Dawn was, briefly, part of Buffy's family in the series - she had been 'inserted' there magically. In my stories she returned to Middle Earth, from whence she had originally come, and changed her name to the Quenyan Elven version of 'dawn' - 'tindómë'.
Tindómë is married to Rumil. They have a son, Haldirin, and a daughter, Ithilienne.
Rumil has two older brothers, Orophin and Haldir. Haldir is dead at the beginning of the story.
Tharhîwon is a young elf who owes his existence to Tindómë and Haldirin - but is the adopted son of Frodo, the hobbit.
Feedback is as good as Christmas presents or even, looks at clock... birthday ones.
Almost since the first words of the Prologue of 'Return' formed in my head, the whole story line mapped itself out - and I have always planned to return to that last line of 'Return' - it was just sitting and waiting for me to do so.
Finally, with the Elves having been in Valinor for a little while, the story time-line has arrived at that point; and I have begun to write down the tale in which Dawn, aka Tindómë, begins the Search For Spike.
Other, more Tolkien based friends, may remember me saying that I fully expected Haldir to be re-embodied in Valinor and have a role to play....
So - here we have the prologue and Chapter One of
The Valinor Trail
Words; 3,5000
Rated; PG
Characters; Dawn aka Tindómë, Spike, Haldir, Rumil, Legolas, Gandalf - and many others!! There is a 'cast list' at the end of Chapter One explaining the main characters and most of the relationships.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. (from both the Buffyverse and the works of JRR Tolkien) are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Prologue
Outside it was dark. A proper black darkness – ‘as black as a coal hole’ type darkness, as his mother would have said… if she hadn’t been dead for two hundred years.
Less light pollution. Well, less than the twentieth century, although probably not less than the nineteenth. Strange how every generation over the past couple of centuries, and more, had ideas of what the future would be like – but when you got there it really wasn’t that much different to twenty, thirty, or even fifty years before.
But the twenty-eighties did waste less energy than the nineteen eighties had. If he had been an old fashioned, traditional, bite and suck, vampire the darkness of the small town at 3.a.m. would have been most beneficial. As it was it simply allowed for quiet contemplation in the small public park.
Two hundred years ago, when Spike had been a young man about to meet Drusilla and never be the same again, public parks had been a fairly new idea. A hundred years ago, about when Buffy had been born, it had seemed unlikely that any such thing would exist in the future, and yet here he was, on a seat in a public park, breathing in flower-scented air. Cleaner than the air was one or two centuries back – nobody would have believed that, either.
He was getting used to being alone, he thought. Not in the ‘last man/vampire/whatever left on the planet’ way, which so many authors had thought probable by now, but in the ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone who knows my name for three days’ sort of way.
Another couple of weeks and it would have been Buffy’s one hundredth birthday if she’d still been alive. Still, she had made it to ninety-eight – and being immobile, and in pain if she didn’t take all the meds, wasn’t a way for The Slayer to live. She’d been happy enough to go, in the end.
Another weird thing. A hundred years ago they’d thought that either everyone would live to be at least a hundred and fifty, or everyone would be dead by the year twenty-ten because of some nuclear war or great apocalypse. Then in the early twenty-first century they’d thought everyone might die young from lack of exercise – and yet, really, nothing much had changed.
People still drove around in cars, autos, whatever you wanted to call them, not in little space craft à la The Jetsons. (‘Huh!’ Spike thought. ‘Bet there’s no-one else left who remembers The Jetsons.’) O.K. – they were powered a little differently, and computer technology made it safe to not have all the highways floodlit at night – so less light pollution – but still recognisable family autos. People still shopped in malls, and lived in houses that his Mother would have recognised, despite twentieth century predictions about people living in glass bubbles or half-mile high tower blocks.
‘The more things change, the more they stay the same…’ he thought.
Except for the being alone thing.
Up until now he’d always had family. Mother, then Drusilla, Darla, and Angelus (strange family, but family none the less), and then the Scoobies – even if they had not wanted him as family!
Buffy had been all the family he had wanted, or needed, for over seventy years. Sure, the others had been there on the fringes; Willow and her daughter; Giles and Althanea; even occasionally, until their deaths, Xander and Faith. But Buffy was the only one who truly counted; Buffy, Joyce, and Dawn.
He’d never met Hank Summers – never wanted to – and Joyce had died before Buffy had realised that she loved him. Dawn, though, Dawn had stayed in touch with her sister through all the years, across dimensions.
Poor Buffy – she had been so distressed when she had to acknowledge that Dawn, in closing the Hellmouth, had been drawn into a dimension where she felt at home, where she had a husband and a son, where she wanted to stay. She had never, really, been Buffy’s sister; and yet she had used a magical device to contact Buffy, every few years, whenever the dimensions were close enough together to allow a small window to be opened between them.
Spike knew how much this had meant to Buffy. In fact he had felt, through her last year of life, as if she was only waiting to hear from Dawn again before she relinquished her hold on life for the last time. So it had proved; after that last ‘visit’, as she lay in the nursing home bed, Buffy had told him how much she loved him, but that it was time to ‘go to her Mom’, and had died within days.
He missed her. Every day he missed her. Some days he thought it would be easiest to just come out here in the dark and fall asleep, so that the first bright rays of the sun found him, and his dust would become part of the fabric of the earth. But he couldn’t do it.
Sometimes he wondered why he couldn’t do it.
He had come to the conclusion that it was mainly because he didn’t think it would bring him any closer to Buffy. He couldn’t believe that he had atoned for all the things he had done as a vampire; that he could end up in the same afterlife, the same Heaven, as The Slayer.
It didn’t matter that Willow said that, if he believed strongly enough, the Goddess would ensure that he spent eternity with Buffy. It didn’t matter what anyone else told him either. He was, at heart, the product of Victorian Christianity, and he knew, somewhere inside, that he had committed too many sins. He knew, too, that waiting to be dusted was simply suicide – another deadly sin to add to the tally. No – there would be no reunion in the afterlife, and so no point in lying here waiting for the daybreak. All he could do was keep fighting the good fight and hoping.
‘Bloody Hell, Spike,’ he thought, ‘you’re sounding much too much like fuckin’ Angel. Time to go and kick something!’
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
There wasn’t a lot around to kick, these days.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Things had changed; in the timelessness of the Undying Lands time had made itself known, and death as well.
The two old hobbits were gone.
One autumn Sam had professed himself too tired to make jams and preserves, and had sat watching Tharhîwon, Haldirin and Ithilienne carry out these tasks. Both Frodo and Sam had been too tired to do more than nod in appreciation when Gandalf had created fireworks for midwinter – something he had not done since the first midwinter after the Ithilrim had arrived in Valinor. And then both had sat in the warming sun of springtime, smiling at the unfurling flowers and leaves, before first Sam and then Frodo had slipped away in their sleep with only a few days between them.
It had been right, Tindómë had thought, that Sam had gone first. He would have been so very upset had he outlived Frodo – whereas Frodo had held his dead friend’s hand and smiled a little.
“This time, my old friend,” he had murmured, “you have gone ahead. But do not stray too far as I will not be much behind.”
And now he had fulfilled that promise and his fëa, too, had flown free.
Legolas was distressed by the deaths, but had first concentrated on comforting Frodo and now comforting Gimli.
The first night after his adar’s death Ithilienne and Haldirin had gathered Tharhîwon up and taken him to their shared room where he had, Tindómë knew, spent it held close between the two.
This continued until the second night after Frodo was buried, beside his Sam, in a sunny spot near their home in Master Elrond’s grounds. Then Naltatamë, the female smith who had escorted Gimli to Lord Aulë’s forge, arrived at the Hobbit house where Gimli, too, lived, and said she would be happy to ensure Lord Gimli was not alone in his mourning; Legolas might go and take comfort elsewhere.
And so, for a few nights, Ithilienne was missing from the room in the family house whilst Tharhîwon walked the dream paths there, guided by Haldirin.
“They are as we were when Haldir died,” Orophin commented to Rumil, “except that Haldirin’s mourning is little beside Tharhîwon’s and so he can give without needing to take - whereas we were both in need. This shared experience will be good for them both and help them be, even more, brothers to each other.”
A few nights more and Tharhîwon felt able to sleep in the rooms that had been ready for him in the home of Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían for many years, awaiting this loss, but all his friends ensured that he did not sleep alone for many nights. Many of them had lost family or friends to death themselves, and with less finality than this loss, and they made sure that he never awoke without the comfort of another body within reach.
Over the next few months it was clear that Tharhîwon sought his comfort more with Nithdur than any other. This pleased Tindómë and her family, for Nithdur had been one of the first party to follow Legolas to Eryn Ithil, and there was almost no possibility that he would be tempted to remain at the coast when, eventually, the Ithilrim’s Lord led them to a new forest home. If there was a relationship between Tharhîwon and the leatherworker at that time, they realised, their erstwhile Winter Elfling would be most likely to come with them, despite the roles Master Elrond and his wife played in Tharhîwon’s life.
Legolas remembered Frodo’s remarks made within months of the Ithilrim arriving on these shores. “Tharhîwon sees Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían as aunt and uncle, or grandparents. But by blood he is a wood elf, and the first mother figure he remembers is Tindómë. When you move from here, to be amongst the trees, he will feel torn between staying here and going with you.”
He hoped there would be no ill-feeling; especially as Tindómë seemed to have such a good relationship with Celebrían herself.
……………….
Then came another change. A much smaller one than the deaths of the hobbits to most; but a major one to Tindómë’s family.
Haldir.
……………….
Chapter One
Haldir was finding life frustrating.
When he had been alive before it had never been like this; he distinctly remembered that he always knew what he wanted, what his role was, and that his orders would be followed.
Death had not been frustrating either. He had heard the voice of Lord Námo and, realising that he was dead, had obeyed the order and followed to The Halls of Waiting… along with too many of his wardens. He had not been sure whether he was happy or sad that his brothers were not with him, but soon gave up worrying about them. He had rested, recovered, considered his previous life and, although there had been little sense of time passing, had been prepared to leave when he was told to; ready to take up his place in his family and the general scheme of things.
But life was much less smooth the second time around and he was not sure that he liked it. Not at all.
He had been vaguely aware that his parents had been in the Halls of Waiting when he first arrived there, and then that they were no longer there. So it came as no surprise to be reunited with them when he left, and they were much as he remembered them from the first thousand years or more of his life. But to discover that his brothers were now here in the Undying Lands, but not with his parents, not with Lady Galadriel; that was almost inconceivable.
Not only inconceivable, but totally unacceptable. He had expected both his parents and Her Ladyship to agree with him. Then he would go to Alqualondë and order Orophin and Rumil to return with him. But Her Ladyship had told him that he, too, must adapt to the changes the Ring War and its aftermath had brought. Lord Celeborn had given the brothers his permission to join Legolas and she was happy about this, and about their subsequent marriages.
That was another thing, of course – Her Ladyship being here without His Lordship. Even though Haldir understood why she might have needed to sail, for her health, and that His Lordship would not abandon the Galadhrim, even if he seemed to have abandoned Lothlorien, it was still wrong that they were not together.
Haldir’s mother thought he was right, though, to expect his brothers to leave Legolas and return to their rightful place – with or without the females they had married almost as soon as Haldir’s back was turned. ‘Without’, she thought, might be better in the case of the one who was not even a proper elf! Quite what Rumil’s wife was Haldir was still unsure – but anything other than a proper elf surely should not be here in Valinor…
Adar was less forceful about it, even said that they were adults and able to make their own decisions, that both wives were perfectly suited to Orophin and Rumil, and he hoped Haldir was proud that Rumil and Tindómë’s firstborn had been named in memory of them.
But Haldir was certain that, when he brought his brothers back to where they belonged, Adar would be very happy about it.
…………………
When they first received word that Haldir was no longer in Mandos’ Halls Orophin and Rumil were overjoyed. They thought to set off almost straight away, with their wives and Rumil’s children, to go to Tirion where he had joined their parents.
But then it seemed more sensible to invite him to come to Alqualondë; it would be easier to accommodate him there than all of them in Tirion, and he could stay as long as he liked. Word was sent to him that they were thrilled at the idea of being reunited with him, but could understand if he needed to take time before visiting them; they just hoped he did not need too much time!
Then he arrived.
Within only a few weeks of Haldir’s arrival amongst the Ithilrim a number of things became obvious.
To Haldir it became obvious that his brothers were not simply going to obey his commands. They had always obeyed his commands. When they were elflings he had taught them that immediate compliance was for their safety; if he said ‘run’ they ran, if he said ‘hide’ they hid. As they began to train as warriors they learnt to still obey his commands for this reason, and also because he was their commanding officer. Even as trusted wardens his word was law and, so used were they to doing as he bid them, that he automatically took the lead in all things, whether on or off duty.
Now they listened to him say “You must return to Tirion with me,” and smiled, then said “No.”
It was obvious that it would take him longer than he had expected. He settled himself into the room his niece and nephew had given up for him, saying they could both, easily, stay with friends as long as he liked.
Rather grudgingly Haldir had to admit, at least to himself, that he was honoured that Rumil and Tindómë had named their son in his memory. And that he quite clearly took after his father rather than after his mother…which was certainly a good thing. Haldirin was tall, strong, as fair of hair as Haldir himself; yes, a nephew of whom to be, almost, proud.
He was not a warrior of Galadhrim standards, though. Yes, Haldir knew that Haldirin had grown up without the Shadow of Evil – but his uncle still felt that his training seemed to have been lax compared with what he, himself, would have put the young warrior through before awarding him his braids. It was obvious to Haldir that standards were lower outside the Galadhrim.
Rumil’s daughter, however… although she seemed a pleasant enough young elleth, what sort of name was Ithilienne?
Haldir could see the attraction of Orophin’s wife. Perhaps a little too Silvan in style and accent, when compared to one of the Galadhrim, but if she was Orophin’s soul-mate then so be it. But he missed having his brothers as unattached as he was himself; he missed having them alongside him as he encountered new ellyth.
Yes, it was obvious to Haldir that things were not as he would have wanted them to be; and it was clearly all Tindómë’s fault.
If she had not arrived from what she, and the others, referred to as a different world in such a way; if she had been less careless in that other place and not fallen down some sort of chasm that ended up at The Black Gate, then Rumil would not have encountered her. A small voice inside him suggested that if he had not managed to get himself killed at Helm’s Deep then his brothers would have marched, safely, back with him to Lothlorien and would not have been at The Black Gate; but he soon quashed that idea.
No – if she had been less clumsy, less careless, the young woman would have remained where she was, and Rumil and Orophin would have returned to Lothlorien and finally arrived here unencumbered by wives and children – and would have returned to his side; to her Ladyship’s side.
Rumil called his wife a Gift of the Valar, and said that Mithrandir had agreed that it was probably their doing that had brought her to Middle Earth, but Haldir could not help thinking that she might be less a gift than a mistake that they had hoped to lose in that other place. She was shorter than an elleth should be – almost stunted – and she seemed to have less acute hearing, poorer sight, she complained that she felt the cold, still seemed to need as much sleep as a half-grown elfling… and she even had deformed ears!
On top of that her Sindarin was oddly accented – odder than that of Legolas and the others from what was, apparently, now known as Eryn Lasgalen – she sometimes shortened words, slurred one into another, or simply used them incorrectly. Haldir really could not understand how she could have a fëa that sang to Rumil so loudly; how his younger brother could bind his soul with hers.
It was obvious to Tindómë that Haldir didn’t approve of her. She had sometimes worried, through her years in Middle Earth and now in Valinor, that the oh-so-important eldest brother would not like her, and it was clear that her worries had not been unfounded.
Had they met back in the early days, she thought, back when she had been snatched back to Sunnydale and then returned to Middle Earth unsure of herself, unsure of whether she really belonged with Rumil or was just a hindrance to him, she would have been totally cowed. As it was she was saddened.
She knew that Rumil loved her. But she knew, too, that he loved his brother. More than he did his parents; for Haldir had been both mother and father to the elfling Rumil before he had been boon companion to the adult ellon. She worried that she and Haldir would pull Rumil’s fëa in two.
To Orophin and Rumil it became obvious that death had changed their brother less than life had changed them. They had not even realised how much they had been changed until Haldir arrived.
He was both their brother and their parent and they loved him dearly. But he was no longer their commanding officer, and they realised that they were able to hold to their own decisions when they disagreed with his.
“He will come round,” Orophin said. “It will take time – but we are not short of that. He will come to love Lithôniel and Tindómë as we do. Well, perhaps not exactly as we do…”
Rumil feared it would take a good deal of time. As Elrohir had once commented, Haldir could look down his nose at people most effectively – and Rumil had seen the slight upward tilt of Haldir’s face when he looked at Tindómë.
“If he says one word out of place about Tindómë he will find just how similar my nature is to his…” Rumil vowed.
“He misses us as partners in seeking the desires of the body,” Orophin commented, “he is doubtless ‘antsy’.”
Coming into the room in time to catch the end of the conversation, Tindómë thought that it was probably as well that Haldir had not heard Orophin. The degeneration of his brothers, indicated by the use of that last word, would have been something else to blame on her. Although it was quite likely that Orophin had a point.
…………………
Quick list of people;
Spike is a vampire from Buffy the Vampire Slayer - he was turned by a vampire called Drusilla, actually won back his soul, and became one of the good guys in the series I go with the 'Spuffys' who see him as a long term partner for Buffy herself. Dawn was, briefly, part of Buffy's family in the series - she had been 'inserted' there magically. In my stories she returned to Middle Earth, from whence she had originally come, and changed her name to the Quenyan Elven version of 'dawn' - 'tindómë'.
Tindómë is married to Rumil. They have a son, Haldirin, and a daughter, Ithilienne.
Rumil has two older brothers, Orophin and Haldir. Haldir is dead at the beginning of the story.
Tharhîwon is a young elf who owes his existence to Tindómë and Haldirin - but is the adopted son of Frodo, the hobbit.
Feedback is as good as Christmas presents or even, looks at clock... birthday ones.
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no subject
Date: 27/12/2012 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 12:29 am (UTC)Always a really good place to find yourself!
Nice way to set the stage for where Spike is in his life.
Thank you so much. Good to know I can still write him like himself, if you see what I mean!
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Date: 28/12/2012 01:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 02:12 am (UTC)I think you mean 'prologue'.
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Date: 28/12/2012 10:40 am (UTC)Thank you for posting. Many birthday (((hugs)))
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Date: 28/12/2012 10:42 am (UTC)And, Happy Birthday!
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Date: 28/12/2012 11:07 am (UTC)Hope you're being spoiled! :D
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Date: 28/12/2012 11:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 11:13 am (UTC)I have corrected!
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Date: 28/12/2012 11:16 am (UTC)And thank you, too, for the birthday greetings.
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Date: 28/12/2012 11:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 11:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 11:34 am (UTC)As for the house, we had a break in construction process due to very low temperatures and holidays these past weeks, but we managed to buy and store away the hardwood that's needed for the roof. So yeps, things are slowly progressing.
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Date: 28/12/2012 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2012 09:50 pm (UTC)I really enjoyed reading this. You write so well, it just flows. I look forward to more to come.
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Date: 28/12/2012 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/12/2012 07:36 am (UTC)And while I know not of the Buffy empire (my daughter does and even took a college class on Buffy the Vampire Slayer), I just now read the first part of your story here and was quite pleased by much, but especially your reference to the Jetsons (cause I'm that old). Time passing, things changing and staying the same - appropriate birthday stuff. Hopefully your anxiety has dissipated and you are full on enjoying your new year!
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Date: 29/12/2012 10:59 am (UTC)And I am always a little anxious when I post the first part of a new story - in case no-one wants to read it!
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Date: 30/12/2012 12:29 pm (UTC)Hmm... I really hadn't expected Haldir to be 'trouble'. It will be interesting to see how that plays out.
And will Spike end up in Valinor? And, if so, will he be 'trouble', too?
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Date: 30/12/2012 01:36 pm (UTC)As for Spike... Well, whilst the theme for Brotherhood was just that - the relationship between Orophin, Rumil and Haldir, that between the twins and also their relationship with Arwen & Aragorn - this one could be called brother-in-lawhood! The focus will be on Tindómë's relationship with her sister's 'husband', and her husband's brother... But, even though she might think the obvious thing to do is to bring Spike to Valinor, it is certainly not that easy - nor could it really be her decision!