Tears of the Valar

Disclaimer: 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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Naveradir was a quiet but pleasant presence in the keep. Helcarin found him an invaluable source of information in planning the journey to Cuivienen and they were often found in the company of Vanurion, Erestor and Glorfindel, going over maps and Naveradir’s journal of his own expedition to seek the Waters of the Awakening.

“The Sea of Helcar is much further east,” he told them. “There are some Dwarves in the area if Lastharos has not killed them all. He seemed to detest them, if I remember the tales correctly.”

“You have seen him. What gave you pause about him?” Erestor asked.

“I do not know. I simply sensed he was … not right. It was as if there was a warning bell sounding somewhere telling me to stay away from him.”

“Does he have dominion over all of the land surrounding Cuivienen? You said he had claimed the waters for himself.” Glorfindel was concerned that Helcarin would be in more danger than his son anticipated.

“When we were there he did not have guards posted. Now … who can say?” Naveradir looked at Helcarin. “We must be prepared for anything.”

“We?” The golden-haired Elf from the north smiled. “You will accompany me?”

“Of course. That is, if it would not interfere with your plans.”

“Not at all. I welcome your company.” Helcarin did not try to hide his delight. He glanced at his fathers.

Glorfindel smiled. “I must admit some curiosity myself.”

They looked at Erestor who sighed. “Yes, very well. I am curious also.” He had tried to tell himself he wished simply to return to his house in the forest with his new wife and then sail to the Undying Lands. But the melancholy and urge to leave Middle-Earth had dissipated during this visit east and he could not deny he had developed an interest in his son’s seemingly random quest.

Helcarin and Glorfindel laughed. They could see how Erestor disliked admitting his interest.

“Well, ada, then we shall be happy for you to accompany us.” His son’s dark blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

Erestor said nothing and gave Glorfindel a look warning him against any further comment. His friend simply smiled and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Charika had brought a cart loaded with her sewing projects back from Goroth’s keep, bringing smiles to the Elves as she cautioned them about packing things so the delicate fabrics were not exposed to damage. She had made quite a few gowns for Alexandra, Pomea and Durisia as well as some new ones for herself, but there had been so much beautiful fabric and trim available, she could not bear to see it abandoned. Vanurion had told her to take whatever she desired.

In fact, Vanurion had deferred such decisions to Naveradir. As Goroth’s son, the contents of the keep belonged to him. However, the recently re-embodied Elf had smiled and shook his head.

“You are the leader of our people. It is yours to dispose of as you will. I have had no need for material things for so long I fear I am having to learn about them all over again.”

Indeed, Naveradir was reacquainting himself with many things he had long been without. Food and sleep had been the first of his forgotten experiences and while still at Goroth’s keep, he had been ravenous, often accompanying Charika to the kitchen and helping her cook, giving the other Elves respite from their culinary duties. He had also found the suite of rooms in another part of the keep that had been his in his previous life and had slept for several days.

By the time they returned to Vanurion’s home, Naveradir was readjusted to once more having a corporeal form. To his chagrin, he found he needed to re-learn some things such as riding a horse and, embarrassingly, fighting skills. His fellow Elves had been happy to spar with him and his natural skill had reasserted itself; still, he was unaccustomed to being bested easily and admitted his pride was somewhat wounded by his need to reacquaint himself with arms.

One aspect of having a body which had surprised him in its insistence had been arousal. In his 6000 or more years of dwelling as a spirit, Naveradir had not felt the yearning for intimate contact: it simply was not an issue. Once he regained a body, however, he had been taken aback by the sudden return of physical desire. Before his death at the hands of his father, Naveradir had enjoyed the tangible pleasures of life as much as any other; but he had existed without it for so long even the memory of it had faded. When the feelings returned, though, their force was unexpectedly powerful.

He had been in the bathing pool at Goroth’s keep, a week or so after he had regained his solid form. Helcarin and Pomea had joined him and as the elleth had disrobed and stepped into the water, Naveradir had felt a sudden surge of desire. She was tall, with black hair and a smooth, strong body with delicate curves that belied her strength. The urge to take her was strong and he reminded himself these were not the times in which he had dwelt; these Elves did not take as his father had … as he had at one time before realizing how wrong their ways had been.

The elleth and her western lover had been casually affectionate with one another and did not seem to notice his arousal, a fact for which Naveradir thanked the Valar. Once awakened, however, he found his desire was easily called forth around Pomea and Durisia. The mortal females, Rumil’s lady, Charika, and Legolas’ wife, Alexandra, did not tempt him as did the ellyth. They were both beautiful and he could see where they would be quite desirable; but he did not find them attractive as potential bedmates. For one thing, both were already claimed by others and he would not wish to intrude upon their bonds. But Naveradir also found their mortality to be dissuading. He had lain with mortals in the past and found the experiences quite pleasurable; however he now always associated bedding mortals with rape and discovered he had developed an aversion to joining with mortals: even if they desired him, he would always feel as though he was taking them against their will.

In fact, he feared the darkness of his own soul; the darkness he had fought so hard against and had conquered though it had led to his own death. He did not wish to admit he had enjoyed taking what he wished in his previous life. The power he had held over the lives of the mortals had been intoxicating. During his time hovering between life and death Naveradir had pondered his sins and had come to terms with them, seeking Eru’s forgiveness. Still, he knew the potential was within him to respond to the lure of taking what he desired without thought of the consequence. It was safer for him---and for the mortal females around him---if he kept that door tightly locked.

And so he had controlled his desire, remaining polite, friendly and serene though at times, he would have flashes of memory which were both intriguing and repulsive. Images of females bound and helpless, awaiting his pleasure would sometimes catch him unawares and he would feel disgusted at the memories. Those musings were the easiest for him to take: he no longer found the thought rape attractive and so could dismiss them. The memories which affected him the most, though, were of the females who had welcomed him into their bodies and had joined with him willingly. He had seduced without thought and knew his betrayals had hurt many of his partners. Those interludes, he found, were the most punishing.

Still, once he arrived at Vanurion’s home, Naveradir found himself surrounded by willing females, both Elven and mortal. He found it amusing that after 6000 years of being alone he now had more company than he could ever accommodate. The Elf discovered the ellyth were as skilled as he remembered and set about trying to make up for all the lost millennia.


Naveradir was practicing with Orophin, Glorfindel and Haldir one afternoon in the courtyard, his body remembering how to use the sword though his mind did not give it conscious thought. With the tatequalme, Naveradir moved effortlessly; the sword had obviously not been his first weapon of choice and so he worked on honing that skill. Sarendir, Helcarin, Legolas and Alexandra were watching, offering comments from time to time and occasionally changing places with his partners. He had been pleasantly surprised to note the mortal female’s skill with the tatequalme was quite good, though it was obvious she had not used the weapon all of her life; still, she was a worthy opponent, something he had never expected from a woman.

“I had never thought to see mortal females wielding weapons,” the ancient Elf remarked with a smile as they all paused for some refreshment.

“In Alexandra’s land she was a warrior,” Haldir replied, taking a long drink of water from the goblet Helcarin handed him. “I believe it was common for women to serve in their armies.”

Naveradir raised a quizzical brow. “Indeed? Your land sounds quite different from the realms of Men I have known.”

She laughed and glanced at her husband. “It is quite different from Middle-Earth,” she replied. “When Legolas met me he thought me quite strange.”

The prince smiled and kissed her forehead. “You were quite strange. She could not ride a horse or use a bow and knew nothing of Elves. It was quite an educational experience for us both, traveling together.”

Naveradir nodded. “I can see it was a mutually beneficial experience as well. Your devotion to one another is touching.”

Haldir made a sound suspiciously like a snort, causing the others to laugh. Their chuckles had not yet died down when a familiar voice broke through.

“So, you all thought to have an adventure without us. Truly, my friends, we are devastated.”

“Elladan!” Legolas turned to the speaker with a welcoming smile. The dark-haired son of Elrond was walking towards them with his usual good-natured smile. His brother followed along with Saelbeth.

“We heard Helcarin was---.” Elrohir’s comment was cut short as he spied the golden-haired Elf who had grown up in their father’s realm. Helcarin ran to the twin sons of the Lord of Imladris and embraced them as old friends. Saelbeth greeted the others as the three ellyn all tried to talk at once.

“A few months after you departed Ithilien, Elladan and Elrohir arrived and I told them of Helcarin’s arrival and your journey here. After your last message saying you were going to remain a while longer and seek Cuivienen, they talked me in to coming to join you.”

“I am certain they coerced you,” Haldir replied drily.

Saelbeth chuckled. “I will admit I was easily persuaded.”

Introductions were made and Naveradir greeted the newcomers with good humor. He could see these western Elves shared tight bonds of friendship and hoped his own people would be able to achieve that same sense of kinship … of family.

All three of the newcomers noticed the tatequalme and each had to try his hand with the implement. The sparring went on into the evening and stopped only when dinner was announced, news greeted by the sons of Elrond with enthusiasm. The others had no choice but to follow along, swept up in the forces of nature that were Elladan and Elrohir.