Tears of the Valar.

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
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The Elves of Rhun were celebrating. They did not particularly need a reason since they were a people who enjoyed feasting and festivities even more so than their western kin. Elves were naturally inclined to music and good cheer though to most mortals, their outward demeanor seemed to hide that nature. Serene and with exquisite dignity, the immortal Elves of Middle-Earth were seen as ethereal beings to the other inhabitants of Arda; but among themselves, they were relaxed and most definitely not above the more substantial pleasures of the world; and the eastern Elves of Rhun were the least inhibited in their enjoyment of those pleasures.

The nominal cause for this particular celebration was the return of the Lord of the Elves of Rhun, Vanurion, and the others who had accompanied him and their western guests to the keep of Goroth, the corrupt former leader who had been overthrown several years earlier. Normally, their return would be greeted with pleasure but no special events; however, they brought with them one of their kin believed to have died over 6000 years earlier and, as Sarendir and Pomea, two of Vanurion’s relatives, said, he should be properly welcomed back to the world of the living.

In addition to marking Naveradir’s return to corporeal form, both the eastern and western Elves had cause to celebrate the marriage of Durisia of Rhun, a descendant of Vanurion, to Erestor of Imladris, a western Elf who had served as chief advisor to Lord Elrond before the Elves began departing for the Undying Lands. Erestor and Durisia had bound as husband and wife during the time they and their friends had spent at Goroth’s keep.

Legolas, Lord of the Elves of Ithilien, took a sip of the strong Rhunian wine as he watched the dancing, and glanced at his friend, Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlorien, who now dwelt in Ithilien with his brothers.

“Shall we soon be celebrating your binding to Meriel?” the young prince asked his friend.

“Perhaps,” Haldir replied, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Once we return to the west and Ithilien, I shall ask her if she wishes to bind with me though I do not think we need to have such a large gathering. Her family no longer dwells in Middle-Earth.”

“Still, I have noticed many females especially seem to enjoy these things,” Legolas told him. His eye caught sight of his mortal wife, Alexandra, who was dancing with their friend Glorfindel, and he smiled. “Besides, my wife will be highly disappointed if there is not at least some sort of excuse to have a lavish celebration.”

Haldir made a derisive sound. “The lady has not yet agreed so Alexandra need not begin planning just yet.” Legolas and Haldir’s brothers, Rumil and Orophin, all laughed. None had any doubt Meriel would accept his proposal.

Rumil watched his lady, Charika as she danced with Sarendir, the grandson of Goroth and could not help but smile and offer a prayer of thanks to the Valar that she had recovered from the dark torments that had haunted her mind. When he, his brothers and friends, had first come to Rhun almost a year earlier, it had been to see her following the birth of her child, the product of a rape by the leader of Khand, Lastharos. They had found her a broken woman on the edge of insanity and had thought her lost. But with the support and care of her Elven lover and his family and friends, she had begun to slowly recover, discovering a strength she did not know she possessed. In fact, Charika had been instrumental in putting to rest the spirits of Goroth’s victims and helping bring about Naveradir’s re-embodiment following his torture and supposed death at the hands of Goroth, his own father.

The woman still did not acknowledge Tinudir, her son, as being born of her body. Alexandra had told them, privately, that Charika purposefully denied the child, who would be raised as Vanurion’s own in his household, in order to protect him from Lastharos. Thus none of them pressured her about the babe any longer for they understood what a difficult sacrifice she was making to protect her son.

Orophin’s hand was caught by Pomea and he was dragged out to dance with her as her lover, Helcarin, came to where his friends stood.

“The lady is tireless,” he told them, accepting a goblet of wine from Rumil and turning back to watch the crowd in the center of the courtyard. “I believe your wife will exhaust my father as well,” he added, nodding toward Alexandra and Glorfindel.

The prince laughed. “She was always reluctant to dance, but seems to have relaxed during our time here. My heart smiles to see her so happy.” He gazed with undisguised adoration as his wife was swung around by Glorfindel into the arms of Erestor. “Both of your fathers will be exhausted before the evening is over,” he added.

Helcarin chuckled. “Aye. I do not recall seeing Erestor so … exuberant in all the years I dwelt with them in Imladris.” The golden-haired ellon was the product of a union Glorfindel and Erestor had with a mysterious female from the far north of Arda, and had been raised by the two of them in Elrond’s realm where Glorfindel was the Marshal of Imladris. He bore resemblances to both of his fathers and had left Rivendell just after his majority and traveled to Forodwraith, the icy northern part of Middle-Earth in search of his mother’s people. He had dwelt there for almost a millennium before traveling to Ithilien and then east with his fathers and friends to visit Charika and to satisfy a calling he had to find the Waters of the Awakening, where Elves had first awoken under the stars.

It was Helcarin’s quest and Erestor’s desire to search through the documents still in Goroth’s keep that had led them to the former leader’s stronghold, where mysterious events had proven both informative and frightening. The outcome, however, had been happy, for not only had Naveradir been reunited with his kin in a substantial form, but Erestor and Durisia had chosen to bond as husband and wife.

The dancing and feasting went on into the early hours of the next morning so the following day was fairly quiet around the keep. Legolas and Alexandra remained abed since the lady was not know for being an early riser under the best of circumstances and her husband would not leave her side when he had the chance to stay in bed with her. The others also spent a leisurely day before arising and drifting about to their various pursuits.


Following the eventful evening in Goroth’s keep when the evil Elf’s spirit had been driven from where it had inhabited Legolas’ body, Rumil had found a moment to ask Charika about the tatequalme the double-bladed weapon of the Rhunian Elves she had been carrying. She had blushed and looked away. Rumil caught her chin and turned her face back to his.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“I … Pomea and Alexandra have been teaching me to protect myself.” She bit her lip and looked down.

Rumil did not allow the smile he felt coming to show. She was obviously embarrassed though he did not know why.

“That is an admirable project. Why did you not ask me? I would have been happy to teach you what you wished to know.”

She sighed. “I was afraid to ask you. I thought you might think me foolish and laugh at me.”

He pulled her into his arms. “No, oh no, my love. I would not think such a request foolish. Why would you think that I might?”

“Because everyone treats me as if I am helpless, especially you. I thought you would think me silly for wanting to do something everyone clearly thinks I am incapable of. At least Alexandra and Pomea did not see me as completely helpless. Besides, I did not want to look foolish in front of you if I could not do it.”

“I would not think you foolish,” he said again, kissing her lightly. “Come; show me what you have learned.”

She blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, but led him to the room where she and the other two females had practiced. He was pleasantly surprised at her skills. She was not as efficient as one who had been trained as a warrior all her life, but she was much better than he had expected. She was quite proud of her archery ability and he laughed at the delight in her voice when she told him she was far superior to Alexandra in that area.

“I am certain she takes it with her usual grace,” he replied, knowing of their friend’s temper.

“She usually throws the bow across the room and walks off muttering things in a language I do not speak, but I am certain she is cursing all bows and arrows. And probably me as well.”

Rumil had laughed and they spent the rest of the day working on her sword skills. It became part of their routine to practice daily and Pomea and Alexandra were happy their friend had finally told her lover about her desire to learn. Not only did his acceptance of her quest help her self-confidence, but it allowed Rumil to see her as a woman with more to her than beauty and domestic skill.

Since returning to Vanurion’s home, they had continued to practice and Charika had improved dramatically. From time to time, others joined them, including Alexandra and Legolas. Though Sindarin by heritage, the prince came from a Silvan kingdom and, along with the Elves of Lorien, also known as the Galadhrim, they were known for their skill with the bow. The hope was that they would be able to help Alexandra, who had been a warrior among her own people, improve her admittedly awful archery skills while helping Charika to develop hers. It was not always a pleasant venture.


“Would you like to accompany Helcarin to Cuivienen?”

Haldir looked up at Orophin’s question and his expression grew thoughtful.

His brother waited patiently for his response, knowing Haldir was thinking of Meriel back in Ithilien. He knew Haldir was planning on asking the elleth to bind with him upon his return, though the Marchwarden had not said so formally to either him or Rumil. Still, the journey to Cuivienen would take an indefinite amount of time and though time was something the Firsborn had in abundance, when it came to matters of the heart …

“You wish to go, do you not?” Haldir knew Orophin had found a good friend and companion in Helcarin and his brother quite enjoyed adventure.

Orophin shrugged. “I would like to go, yes.”

What he left unsaid, however,---and Haldir knew it---was that he did not wish to spend so much time away from his brothers. The three of them had always been together and with Rumil now content with Charika and Haldir ready to bind with Meriel, Orophin knew their relationship was changing. They would always be brothers and always love one another, but Haldir and Rumil had each found someone who answered their needs for a different kind of relationship, one he was not a part of.

Haldir understood how Orophin felt and his heart ached for his brother. He knew of Orophin’s affection for Alexandra, a bittersweet friendship that his younger brother bore with honor. However Orophin was also going to be uniquely alone---perhaps he already was---among his brothers and friends.

“I would join this quest as well, I believe,” Haldir replied with a smile. “It will be quite an adventure to see where our kin awoke; the place of our very beginnings.”

Orophin inclined his head.

“It will be good to have you along, brother.”

Haldir smiled. That was Orophin: master of understatement.

“Do you think Rumil will also wish to go?” Haldir did not know if their youngest brother would be so anxious to join the troop.

Orophin considered for a moment, then answered, choosing his words carefully.

“I do not think Rumil would wish to take Charika on such a journey, but would also be reluctant to leave her behind. There is the chance, however, he may find a way to take his revenge on Lastharos, and I do not believe he will wish to give up such an opportunity.”

Haldir nodded. Orophin’s assessment of Rumil’s situation was the same as his. Rumil was quiet and good-natured, but of the three, his temper was the quickest. He would need to be protected from himself at times lest he charge headlong into danger without thinking of the consequences.

They found Rumil and Legolas giving Charika and Alexandra archery lessons. Haldir and Orophin watched as Charika drew back the bow with a steady hand then released it, the arrow hitting the target just at the outer edge of the circle around what Alexandra called the ‘bull’s eye’, the center of the target.

Charika lowered the bow and turned to Rumil who smiled and kissed her.

“Very good.”

Alexandra sighed and drew the string back easily. Her stance was perfect, her sight was dead center, her bow steady and her release smooth. Her arrow, however, barely struck the outer edge of the target.

The woman let loose a string of what had to be curses, but none of those present understood them. Haldir glanced at Legolas sympathetically and could see the pain in his friend’s expression. Orophin, who had often witnessed Alexandra’s dismal archery skills firsthand, shared his brother’s chagrin.

Alexandra would not look at her husband but turned aside, head bowed. Legolas went to her and put his arm around her and spoke quietly for a moment. The others could see her shoulders shaking and realized, to their dismay, she was crying.

Rumil saw his brothers and, taking Charika’s hand, walked over to them, indicating they should leave the prince and his wife to themselves.

Stepping into the hallway from the practice yard and closing the door, Rumil shook his head.

“Neither of us can see what she is doing wrong.”

“When she was in Lorien I tried to discover the problem as well,” Orophin mused. “She has the proper form and technique, but something goes awry and I cannot spot it.”

“Pomea told her she simply did not possess the talent for archery,” Charika told them, distress evident in her voice. “I feel badly for her.”

“Not everyone is meant to be an archer,” Haldir replied. “Not all mortals are able to do it and there are even Elves who are not so skilled as many others. She has no reason to be distraught.”

“I believe it is simply that she does not wish to disappoint Legolas,” Orophin said quietly. “She knows his talent is uncanny, even among the Firstborn, and feels she is somehow disgracing him.” He shook his head. “She often takes things to heart one would not expect.”

“Be that as it may, there is nothing we can do about it. We came to ask you, brother, if you wish to accompany Helcarin on his quest for Cuivienen. Orophin and I plan to go and would like for you to accompany us if you would.”

“Aye,” Rumil answered, nodding slowly. “I would quite enjoy such a journey.” He glanced at Charika. “I am certain you would not mind remaining at Vanurion’s keep while we are away, would you my sweet?”

The woman studied him quietly. She knew he was hoping to find an opportunity to kill Lastharos and Cuivienen was closer to him than Ithilien.

“I may not accompany you, my lord?”

“I would rather you remain somewhere safe,” Rumil told her. “The journey may be dangerous and we are going into what is unknown for us. Even Naveradir has not been there in over six millennia. We do not know what we will find. It will be better for you to remain where it is secure.”

“And if Legolas wishes to make the journey, do you think he will have Alexandra remain behind? Or will Erestor leave Durisia? Or Helcarin, Pomea?”

Rumil smiled. “I do not know what the others will do. I only know what I would ask of you. I do not want you any closer to the evil creature who has tormented you. At least you have some safety at Vanurion’s keep. Lastharos does not know you are here. You have dwelt here in the past and the surroundings are familiar. Also, there will be others here who can help to protect you should anything untoward happen. Cuivienen has been ‘claimed’ by Lastharos and there is the slim possibility he or his minions may be there. I do not wish to possibly take you to him.”

She sighed. He was correct, of course. And the others were more experienced warriors than she.

“Very well, my lord. I will remain in the care of your eastern kin.”

Rumil smiled and kissed her again.

”Thank you, my love.”


In the practice yard, Legolas tried to comfort his wife. He could feel her hurt and anger and the blame she directed at herself for her perceived failures. When she had turned away after missing the most recent shot he had thought she would perhaps throw the bow or sit down and refuse to participate any longer. However, she had simply stood there, head down and not moving.

Legolas was conscious of Haldir and Orophin having entered the yard and later of them leaving with Rumil and Charika. However he concentrated on Alexandra and so did not give the others much thought.

He put his arm around her and saw the tears falling silently, staining the fabric of the simple tunic she wore. She was trying not to let the others know of her level of distress, but he could see she would soon begin to sob.

“It is alright, my love,” he said in a soothing voice.

She shook her head, unable to reply.

“Please, my precious, do not cry. It matters not whether you can shoot an arrow with expert precision. You are skilled in other ways, and you are able to fire the arrow at an enemy if need be.”

Her shoulders shook with her silent sobs and he pulled her closer.

“Please, Alexandra, do not worry about this.”

“I ... I’m a … d-dis-disgrace to y-you,” she managed to gasp, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, no, my love. Never.”

“Y-yes … I … am.” She broke out in deep, wracking sobs and he put the bow aside and pulled her into his arms. Leading her to one of benches against the wall, he sat down and pulled her into his lap, holding her as one might a frightened or injured child.

“Do you think I married you for your talent at arms?” he asked with a smile, kissing her tearstained cheek.

She did not answer, but continued to cry.

“I married you because I love you. Most mortal females cannot use any weapons. Elven females are trained from childhood. Battle skills are not prerequisites for a wife among the Eldar.”

She buried her face against his neck and he held her close, stroking her hair and her shoulder. Eventually her sobs became quieter and finally subsided into sniffles and an occasional shuddering sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her words muffled by his shoulder. She sat up and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. She sniffed and would not look at him.

“You do not need to apologize,” her husband told her. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“I’ve embarrassed you,” she said.

“No, my love.”

“Yes I have.”

“How? By not being a skilled archer? Elves have millennia to learn to fire with precision. And not all of my kin are famed for their archery skills. I am not embarrassed in the least.”

“You are such a good archer and the Mirkwood Elves are known for their skill. Here I am married to their prince and I can’t even hit the damned target. What would they think? What would your father think? I’m a disgrace to your family.” Her voice began to tremble and he could see another flood of tears threatening to break loose.

“You are not expected to be an archer,” he said. “You are my wife and from a completely different place. No one expects you to be exactly like me or my kin. Now dry your tears. I will have no more shed over this subject. I love you whether you can fire an arrow or not.”

She looked at him and smiled, embarrassed, and Legolas pulled her close, kissing her gently.

“Come. When you are ready we will join the others. It is almost time for dinner.”