Songs of the Spirit

Chapter Two:

Many years later:

The sounds of angry shouting could be heard throughout the corridors of Imladris, leaving many an elf shaking their heads in amusement. Such was the way of things when the Mirkwood King came to visit, and all knew that these squabbles tended to die away into civility once the reason for the argument was past. Both Lord Elrond and King Thranduil were stubborn creatures, and while the king tended to be more vocally consistent in his outbursts, the Imladrin lord was more apt to hold his tongue until a proper strike could be executed, and at that moment could be just as loud.

Erestor frowned in annoyance as he finished transcribing the last of his daily reports, absently rubbing at the stiffness forming at the back of his neck. The quill was set aside, the wet ink upon the parchment set with a fine dusting of sand, and the document placed safely in one of the lower drawers of his desk before he finally rose to leave. The two bickering elves were in the next room and the advisor did not wish to be here when the heated argument turned into something more convivial. That the two Lords were sometimes lovers was no secret, and Erestor knew from experience that the hotter the argument, the brighter their fires burned afterwards.

He stepped from the room, closing the door softly behind him before striding purposefully down the corridor. It wasn’t that he had anywhere important to be; his work for the day was completed, or as completed as they were going to get given the circumstances, leaving him with a bit of free time which he intended to spend perusing some of the old tomes in the library. His resolute walk was merely something of long habit, and combined with a stern yet distracted look and always immaculate appearance, it perpetuated the idea that he was constantly hard at work. An amusing thought to be sure. Certainly he worked hard and with precision, but it wasn’t as all-consuming as most elves were led to believe. Even he could find a free moment here and there for personal use, although given that his hobbies consisted of study and research, he might as well be working as far as the other elves were concerned.

The faint, haunting strains of music caught his ears, unconsciously beckoning him to follow where it led. It was a simple, recognizable tune, overlaid with an intricate melody played skillfully upon some sort of stringed instrument that tugged at his memory. Intrigued, he followed the music until he approached one of the smaller sitting rooms just off the main corridor. Several comfortable chairs and plush divans were placed around the room decorated in pale ivory and deep blue. Lush potted foliage swayed in a gentle breeze emitting from an open balcony. Beyond the terrace and extensive overhang the summer rain poured down in heavy sheets, lending the usually hot air a cool, damp flavor.

A lone elf sat hidden in the corner, his concentration centered completely upon the music he produced from an hourglass-shaped stringed instrument laid across his lap. Nimble fingers danced over the long wooden box; simultaneously drawing a short bow over the strings and skillfully plucking them to turn the simple, light melody into something haunting and strange. Long hair nearly as pale as autumn clouds hung around his bowed head, obscuring his features from view. Yet Erestor knew of this young musician, only recently come to Imladris. Although quite shy for a bard, his sweet voice and deft fingers made up for any hesitancy in his outward manner. The few times Erestor had seen him while he played in the Hall the bard became so immersed in his music that it left little chance for conversation with any elf. Yet that didn’t stop them from trying, for his comely appearance set the hearts of both ellon and elleth burning. Even Erestor had to admit he wasn’t completely immune to the bard’s physical charms, and could appreciate his attractive appearance, however unintentional.

He found himself leaning against the doorframe, content for the moment to just listen and watch before continuing on his way. After a brief time his usual aloof expression slowly melted away into a sort of calm serenity; the nearly sorrowful tones easing its way into his soul like a rich, dark wine. He closed his eyes, and behind the darkness of his eyelids he could almost see the emotions the bard conveyed through his wordless song: a hopeless desperation; a distant pain; an unrequited pleading for forgiveness. It recalled him to times long past, evoking his own memories of sorrow and remorse that he had long since forgotten.

Then a particularly loud shout from the quarrelling elf lords floated through the balcony, snapping Erestor out of his reverie. He straightened with a sigh. The movement was quickly followed by the sound of a sour note amongst the tempean music, drawing his attention back to the player. He noticed one of Lindir’s quick fingers had slipped from the strings, concentration wavering. As the hands corrected themselves, the advisor could help but see how they now trembled.

Worried, Erestor stepped further into the room. The younger elf still didn’t seem to acknowledge the advisor’s presence; his attention so single-minded it appeared contrived, as if he were fighting to lose himself in the music he created. Yet it didn’t seem to be working, and as another shout swept through the balcony the music abruptly ended with a high sharp note. Erestor watched as Lindir bent forwards, clutching the instrument to his chest as if in pain.

“Master Lindir?” Erestor moved forwards, yet abruptly stopped as the pale musician’s head jerked upwards, and expression of both fear and terrible sadness etched across his fine features. The look did not remain long, quickly replaced by a pleasant mask that hid all traces of sorrow.

“I apologize for startling you,” Erestor said, frowning at the swift change in the bard’s appearance. “I could not help but overhear your playing, but for a moment you looked pained. Is something amiss?”

The pale bard rose from his seat, still clutching the foreign instrument protectively to his chest. Erestor immediately noted how the elf stood several inches taller than he. Not that the bard was in any way tall; Erestor was considered one of the shorter elves in the realm, standing over a head shorter than his Lord, although no one really noticed due to his more imposing demeanor.

“Amiss, m’lord?” Lindir breathed, his soft tenor voice at once both strong and light, much like his music. “Nay, there is nothing amiss.” A smiled his crossed his lips, and he ducked his head slightly. “I was merely having difficulties with this piece. I am sorry if I disturbed you.”

The advisor waved his hand negligibly. “You did not disturb me. I found the music to be quite lovely actually; a much more pleasant sound than that of two bickering elves.” He didn’t miss the slight flinch that crinkled the younger elf’s eyes at the mention of the quarrelling elf lords, something which triggered a shadow-memory of his own.

“You know, they do this quite often,” Erestor told him, seeking to reassure the bard. “But no harm comes of it. They bicker and fight every time they meet, but it always ends quite amicably.”

“I am certain it does,” Lindir nodded, although Erestor could tell he wasn’t convinced. That the fighting bothered him was obvious despite Erestor’s reassurances.

“Come,” Erestor gestured down the hall. “I am certain there is someplace in Imladris where Thranduil’s intrusive voice cannot be heard.”

The bard initially looked hesitant, but it was another loud exclamation from said elf that convinced him to rise from his seat and follow the dark-haired advisor.

Lindir had seen Erestor before, usually off on some errand or another, but had never actually spoken to the black-haired elf. Honestly, the stoic and stern advisor caused a small degree of fear within the bard, although he made an effort not to show it. Although they looked nothing alike, Erestor’s usually dour, studious demeanor seemed too similar to that of another elf he had once known; a personage he knew he could never fully eradicate from his mind, however much he wished to. And yet the advisor seemed friendly enough upon speaking face to face, and Lindir willingly yet warily followed him as the traversed the winding corridors.

“You have not been here long,” Erestor commented, hands folded behind his back as he walked. He could sense the bard’s discomfort, and was well used to such reactions whether bred from him personally or from his position as chief advisor to Lord Elrond. “From where do you hale?”

“I was raised just east of the Mirkwood,” Lindir answered, his expression remote. “Although I spent much time on the road before arriving here; gathering songs and learning about the different races of Arda. I love to travel, and enjoy the freedom that comes from being on the road.

Erestor nodded, detecting the wistful tone in the bard’s voice despite his blank expression. “And what made you decide to visit Imladris?”

The corners of Lindir’s lips lifted in a peaceful smile as his pale eyes turned inwards. “I was in Lothlorien actually, where I made the acquaintance of Lady Galadriel. I discovered many songs while I was there, although I found the Lady of the Golden Wood to be fairer than any melody played by my poor hands. Then one night the Lady bid me to travel to Imladris when next I sought the road. She said it would be in my best interest to do so. What else could I do but obey?”

Erestor gave the bard a wry smile. “She does seem to have that effect on those who meet her. So how do you find it here thus far, and how long do you plan to remain?”

Lindir shrugged. “I am not certain. Until the road calls me back I suppose. This place is… pleasant enough.” There was honesty in his words, yet Erestor could sense he was hiding something in regards to his feelings. Something about Imladris set him on edge, but the advisor couldn’t tell whether it was the people, the place, or cities in general. However he was of a mind to think the Mirkwood King and Imladrin Lord’s quarrelling might be a factor.

“Well, I hope by the time you leave your experiences here will be more than merely ‘pleasant enough.’”

“Oh, I meant it as no insult,” Lindir quickly apologized, suddenly feeling as though he had just unintentionally slighted the advisor and his realm.

“None taken, I assure you.” Erestor replied, inwardly shaking his head at the bard’s sudden return to nervousness, and decided to change the subject. “That is a very beautiful instrument,” he commented idly as they continued to walk, “And rarely seen. I have only heard the tilmyr played twice before.”

“Yes. My teacher gave it to me as a gift.” Lindir rubbed the dark wood fondly. Geometric patterns of golden wood were inlayed along its edges, giving the instrument even more of an exotic flavor. “He said it came from one of the human tribes to the east, beyond the Iron Hills.”

“I hear it is a difficult instrument to play.”

“More so than the harp or the lute, that is for certain.” He laughed, relaxing at the familiar topic, and then glanced at the advisor curiously. “Do you play an instrument?”

“Oh no,” Erestor shook his head. “I merely enjoy listening. I have no talent in that area.” They passed by a wide, arched doorway, and the darker elf paused. “Have you spent any time in the library?”

“No,” Lindir replied, adjusting his instrument in his arms. “Although I had hoped to visit at some point during my stay, since Lord Elrond is well known for his accumulation of knowledge.”

“I had a thought.” Erestor unclasped his hands and crossed them over his chest with one hand near his chin. “Just the other day, while going through some books on Nevrast, I found some bound sheet music. There is likely to be more. Would you care to come and look? The library is quiet, and well enough insulated that Elrond and Thranduil will not be heard.”

“I would not want to disturb you; you must have had other plans.”

Erestor lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I have some free time, and had planned to spend it within the library in any case. It would be no bother, I assure you.”

Lindir’s smile broadened. “Then I would welcome your assistance, m’lord.”


Review Responses:

DarkDreamer: Thanks! Just be careful if you review later chapters here; you might give something away! *grin* I’ll be posting the next really soon.
Can’t recall if I reviewed your last chapter or not… I tend to read while at work (I know; naughty me!) so I don’t always have time to review right then. I must say though, with each story, your writing is improving remarkably! Fantastic job!

Haldir’s Heart and Soul: Thank you for reviewing! Poor elfling… but it will turn out all right in the end, you’ll see.
Ack! ‘Beauty and the Beast’ flashback!
*grin*