Weaving a Song

Chapter 25

c. 2505 TA

It had been twenty-five years since Almiel arrived in Imladris. To Almiel it felt like it had been longer than that, the longing she felt to return home never quite left. Letters arrived and were sent consistently by raven, but letters were not the same no matter how much they arrived. She was reading one of these letters by herself in the gardens when she heard a rustle in front of her. She glanced up and saw Arwen walking toward her. "Princess?" Arwen asked, stunned as everyone else had been.

Almiel was not as surprised. Those in Imladris had been expecting Arwen's arrival for the last couple days. "Yes," Almiel answered her.

"You are here?" Arwen asked.

"Yes, for a while yet it seems." Almiel said, sighing slightly glancing back at the letter in hand.

I am sorry, Ada says things have only gotten worse. Have faith, you will return someday. He has been kept busy, more than usual. Imladris is not so bad is it? I have been there many a time. In either case, nothing much here is different inside the Palace anyway. Always the same, Tawarthion and Melimion keep Council meetings entertaining at least. Ada says he is not, but I think he is getting closer to finally knocking one of them out. Taenron stays near as usual though we are almost as busy as Ada is. I hope you can return soon as well. I love you.

Letters from her brother usually made her laugh, but this one was in response to a drearier day in her life. Imladris was beautiful, charming, relaxing even. Sometimes, at least for Almiel, it was too quiet. Even with the twins running around the place, disturbing the peace, at least that was what Glorfindel called it, Almiel still found things much too quiet compared to what she was used to.

In Mirkwood, Elves were constantly bustling around, doing something. Even in their darkness, laughter still rang through the halls. Songs were still sung, by night and day. It was the only way they could beat back the darkness when there was no enemy to fight. Some thought Thranduil was simply mad, throwing feasts and dances like he did, but it was not his madness that caused it. It was true the Silvan Elves enjoyed feasting and song, even before darkness descended on their wood. The feasts, however, helped to lighten the people's hearts, remind them that all was not hopeless yet. Keep the light flickering in their souls.

Here, the feasts were more sober. Not necessarily because of the consumption of wine, Elves everywhere had a high tolerance for the alcohol and drinking as much as they did the Elves in Mirkwood probably had an even higher one. So long as they did not drink whole barrels of wine they could still be considered at least somewhat sober. No, in Imladris they were sober in how the Elves conducted themselves. The dances were formal, slower. The food was bountiful, yet meat was missing from their table and though there were murmurs and singing in the background, the laughter was more subdued. More equivalent to the higher end of the human society where the laughter had to be contained to a slight chuckle. Except these Elves were not doing it on purpose.

The exception was, unsurprisingly, the twins. The twins, though they did carry themselves with a sense of nobility like they had too, their laughter was a little less contained, and they were more relaxed than everyone else. It was why Almiel had stayed near both of them most of the time she was there. That, and knowing they had been close to Legolas as well as her childhood friendship with Arwen, had encouraged her own friendship with them.

"Well," Arwen said, sensing the Princess' home sickness. She had always been torn in two, with one home in Imladris and one in Lórien, but she knew, even when Almiel was a child in Lórien, that Almiel was a creature of the Greenwood tried and true, and no other home would do for her. "Now that I am here, we have a lot to catch up on."

Almiel smiled at Arwen who extended a hand to her. As Arwen gracefully pulled the Princess up, she felt warmth coming from the Princess' hand and she again wondered at it. She ignored it, however, and laughed lightly as the two elleths walked back into the house.

*

There was a feast that night, in honor of Arwen returning home. The feast was normal for Imladris, though the talking was a little louder as most came to greet the Lady returned home. "Nana says she will return in four years." Arwen told her father and brothers.

The twins looked excited, and Elrond smiled. "I am glad of that." He said softly. Almiel's eyes sparkled as she talked to an ellon next to her. The dancing part of the feast had started and the slow waltz like music was starting. As the ellon who had been speaking to Almiel turned to speak to the person on his other side, Elrohir turned his eyes toward her.

"Dance with me?" Almiel looked at him curiously and then at the few who were dancing. Glancing back at him she shrugged.

"I suppose." He grinned and took her hand. She had been there awhile, but it still surprised him that whenever he happened to touch her warmth came from her hand. It was a seemingly simple thing, but it always made his gaze fall upon her with a curious eye every time. He remembered her when she was little, that she had somehow known what to say when she was barely forty.

The dance brought her closer to him, and slightly more warmth flowed to him. "What is it?" He asked her, eyes curious.

"What is what?" She asked.

"I am not sure, your presence gives off something strange…" Almiel cocked her head, seemingly ignorant.

Inside was a different story. Worry gnawed at her for a second, wondering why he was asking and if she told him if something bad would happen. Everyone had told her to keep it quiet, and Elrond had obviously not deigned to tell his own sons. She glanced toward Elrond now, but he was not paying them any attention. He was focused on his own daughter. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"I am not sure I know what you mean." She finally said.

"If I touch you… I feel warmth." He said.

She glanced again toward Elrond, and not for the last time wished she was home. This would not be such a problem there. Elrond still paid no attention. "I think you must be imagining it." Almiel finally said as Elrohir became concerned as to her silence.

He frowned slightly and she now felt guilty, knowing he was not imagining it. "Do you not feel the same when other Eldar touch you? We are said to give off warmth."

"No, well I mean yes, but not like this."

Almiel sighed inwardly. "I think you are mistaken." She said.

He let the subject go after that. Almiel resolved, however, to ask Elrond about why he had not told his sons.

*

"Why have you not told your sons?" Almiel asked Elrond privately a few days later.

Elrond glanced at her, somewhat curious. "The more who know the more likely it is to leak out."

"Elrohir is becoming too curious." Almiel said insistently. "We should tell him."

"Why? The twins have always been curious, it's part of their nature. No harm will come of it."

"What harm would come of us telling them? Do you not trust your own sons?"

"Well, to be honest, they have a tendency to spill out all their feelings at entirely wrong times. I do trust them, but I would rather not tell them unless I have too. Just in case one of them manages to vent to the wrong person."

Almiel hesitated, a feeling of unease resting upon her. She would trust Elrond for now, but she would inquire once more as to when she could go home. Something was not right.