Laer o Faen

Aluiata

Third Age of Middle Earth – 2840

Goston lû telitha ir boe tûrenc no orthernen bronem i waew tolel.

The last notes of the canticle left the air in the Hall of Fire ringing with vibration that passed from the harp strings and left the room breathless and silent, but for the crackling of the fire. Thranduil reached with his free hand to swipe at wetness that dripped from his lashes to the bathe his cheeks with the poignant reminder that his heart beat still, in despite of his sudden and aching loneliness. He sipped from the goblet he otherwise nursed, savouring the ruby liquid as the wine – a particular blend of fruit and spice as bittersweet as the emotion kindled in the melody and harmonies of the song – warmed a path to the seed of hope that he had begun to nurture almost fearfully in the depth of his heart.

As he lowered the goblet to the table, the glow of the fire caught in the dulled Star Opal that dominated both his index finger and his attention, and turned the blue-white gemstone to a vivid, sanguine gold. Beset by a sudden, sad curiosity he tilted his head, raising his hand, turning it first one way then the other watching the play of the light against the facets of the jewel, a pale reflection of the fire that used to burn from within.

"Forgive me, my friend." Glorfindel's soft voice interrupted his melancholy and he diverted his gaze to watch as the other Elf set down his harp and rose from his seat beside the fire, coming to Thranduil's side, to retake his place at the table. "I had not meant to touch you so with my song."

"There is nothing to forgive," Thranduil answered equally as softly. "It has simply been... millennia since last I heard it so beautifully performed."

"Your words are kind," Glorfindel said, and picking up his goblet, raised it in a salute of acknowledgement.

Thranduil shook his head, but could not answer before he sensed another presence at his side, and turned his head to see Elrond also returning to his place beside him at the table. Had he been so distracted by his own emotion kindled by the music that the Lord of Imladris had left his side without his notice?

"It was at the wedding feast of Thranduil and Celyndailiel," Elrond said as he sat, and even as he spoke set an ornately carved box upon a silken cloth atop the table in front of Thranduil and finished, "when last I heard it sung."

"Now I understand," said Glorfindel in a tone of mixed reverence and regret.

Thranduil tipped his head, however, his attention fully captured by Elrond's actions as the other elf reached out and lifted the lid of the box.

"I have always kept it," he said softly, and Thranduil looked down, his heart suddenly beating so fiercely that he thought for a time that it was trying to tear itself apart.

There upon a deep blue velvet pad within the box was the twin to the ring he had, but a moment before, been musing over solemnly; though it was smaller, to fit a much slenderer hand. He swallowed hard, and whispered Elrond's name.

"In spite of your refusal to take it from me," Elrond answered, "I have kept it safe against the time of the fulfilment of her promise to you, Thranduil."

Thranduil looked up from his contemplation of Celyn's ring, to find himself gazing almost at a reflection of his own emotion in the tears that rested uncharacteristically in Elrond's eyes. His face creased with a confusion of painful memory.

"I should have known," Thranduil barely breathed, though he made no move to reach for the ring, as the words of Celyn's promise that Galion had first spoken to him, and Elrond many times after, hovered in the air between them.