Nirnaeth am mbar (Homesickness)

Disclaimer: Most characters belong to Tolkien. Figwit (Melpomaen) is the pretty elf from Peter Jackson's movies.



Warnings: Graphic M/M



Author's Note: Elrohir makes a somewhat cryptic remark early in the chapter. I have in mind a sequel that will explain it, if my muses will cooperate.


Wanting What We Have



The house of Elrond was silent when Melpomaen awoke. Frustrated, he turned over in Elladan's arms. For nights it had been so - uneasy dreams left him in the night and no rest would find him until the first pale light of day crept through the curtains. He was exhausted. His body willed sleep, but his mind raced with worries. Research work for Lord Erestor loomed ahead and he fretted over his lack of progress; he would have exams soon that would determine if he was suited to continue in his path of study. Night after night, he swore to work harder. Yet evening would find him too tired to concentrate; for all the hours he spent in the library, he could barely complete the daily exercises assigned by Lord Erestor.



If his mind did not teem with thoughts of his studies, it supplied a stream of images from his childhood - each hurt, each moment of awkwardness. He cringed with shame and felt an ache in his chest, a hollowness inside that grew more cavernous as the night passed. He agonized over things he had said or saidsaid to Elladan, considered his lover's words and saw hidden meaning - seemingly innocuous statements now seemed laden with criticism and discontent.



He had no idea how long he had lain dreamless, but at last, Elladan stirred. Melpomaen feigned sleep as his lover kissed the top of his head and returned to his own rooms. He slept at last - until the breakfast bell jarred him into the new day.



He would be late again for Lord Erestor's lecture. As he scrambled to wash and dress, he realized with horror that he had forgotten to finish the reading for today's lesson. Things seemed to be slipping away from him lately. He had never been so irresponsible about his studies.



His lack of preparation moved Lord Erestor to assign extra work, and he somehow dragged himself through the evening and into the night, burning his candle long after others had retired. On soundless elven feet, he got ready for bed and tried not to disturb Elladan as he crept beneath the covers.



"I wish you had told me you would be so late."



"I did." No, he had not, he realized. "I am sorry. I meant to, and I forgot."



"It is no matter," Elladan said, nuzzling his neck. "But I must be up early tomorrow. Glorfindel wants to do a thorough patrol of the area before Midsummer." The re-housed elf never forgot the tragic events of the last Midsummer of his former life.



Midsummer. The word lanced through Melpomaen's heart. He had tried not to think of it as an anniversary of sorts, but his emotions refused to heed his mind.



"Are you listening to me at all, Fileg?"



"You are going on patrol."



"Yes. I will be gone for several weeks - I am sorry, but there is nothing for it." Elladan was silent. "What is wrong? You are distracted."



"I am just tired. It was a long day."



"I do not mean tonight. You have been this way for days now."



Melpo rol rolled over. Rarely did he initiate contact between them, but tonight he pulled the peredhel into a kiss so persuasive that Elladan gave up any effort to talk - which was what the elf intended.



Afterward, Elladan lay awake, aware that his lover did not sleep, either. There had been a desperation about their lovemaking tonight - for some nights, actually - that disturbed him. Something was bothering the elf. More than ever, he felt the drain on his own energy. He had only himself to blame - he had wanted to believe in the elf's well-being, to believe that the hurts had begun to heal, when in fact they festered, fed by Melpomaen's refusal to face them. The nature of love between two elves in love made it possible for one to strengthen the other, and Elladan had given his strength willingly. He did not know, however, how much longer he could continue to do so without asking for something in return. He knew that Melpomaen loved him, but it was love with reservation. Elladan wanted more - he wanted his trust.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Elrohir left his vantage point near a cave sometimes used by orcs. Keeping low to the ground, he slid down the hill to join his brother, who had been watching his back. As he reached the foot of the hill, he heard Elladan let out an oath. "What?" Elrohir asked tensely.



"I am such a fool. Midsummer. I should have known."



Only his twin could have interpreted this. "You are worried about your little bird."



Elladan nodded. "I know this is my duty. But that does not leave me any less torn." They heard a distant signal, calling the warriors to regroup, and they angled their path in the direction of the signal.



"Orcs have returned to the caves on the north side of Nífdalu," Glorfindel announced when all the scouting pairs had reached the meeting point. "I have sent for reinforcements. Elladan and Elrohir will await the arriving forces. The rest of us will continue to scout the area."



Afterward, he spoke to the twins privately. "I do not think the orcs are hostile."



Elladan let out a sarcastic laugh.



"You know what I mean," Glorfindel said with a wry grin. "I do not think they intend to storm Imladris. I doubt they number more than fifty troops. Nonetheless, be careful - make sure you know what you are facing before you attack, and for Elbereth's sake, call for more warriors if you need them." The ancient elf gave the peredhil a severe look, knowing that they sometimes allowed their bitterness to override common sense.



The process of finding and flushing out the orcs proved tedious and difficult, requiring not so much caution as patience, and Elladan grew more anxious as three weeks turned into four and then five.



On edge, he found himself berating a warrior for his part in a failed attempt to capture the orc captain. When he had finished venting his frustration, Elrohir grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him out of the hearing of camp.



"That was not necessary," Elrohir said, inclining his head in the direction of the hapless elf. Elladan shook off his brother's grip. "You need to get hold of your temper, Elladan."



The older twin slumped to sit against a tree. "You are right. But every failure delays our return longer."



"I know you are worried, but that is not Ecthelloss' fault. He is a good swordsman." He sat down in front of his brother. "You are the liability in this company."



Elladan's eyes flashed. "The liability?"



"You are trying to be two places at once. Let someone else take over and go home."



"I am a lord of Imladris. Its welfare is more important than any one elf."



"Then act like one." Elrohir got up. "You need to sort this out, Elladan."



Elladan let his head fall back against the tree. His brother's words had more wisdom than Elrohir knew. Yes, he was worried. However, for the first time, he realized that he was also angry - and not with the demands of his position or with his brother. He was angry with Melpomaen, and he supposed that underneath it all, he refused to abdicate his responsibilities because he did not feel he should have to make a choice. At the same time, he felt physically stronger the more time he spent away from the young elf. If Melpomaen was drawing on his strength, then what was happening now that he was gone?



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Six weeks had now passed since Glorfindel's scouting party had left; Midsummer had come and gone while the elves secured the mountains above Imladris. "It should never have got that bad," Elladan said, as they picked their way down steep trails.



Elrohir rolled his eyes. "Would you stop berating yourself?" Elladan was right - they had been lax in their duties. The battle at Parth Celebrant had greatly reduced the orc population, and their frequent patrols in the ensuing decades had kept the western vales and High Pass clear. But Elladan's distraction these past months had been understandable, and Elrohir had been reluctant to remind his twin of their duties. His brother had suffered enough over their mother's capture. Both twins had felt guilty, but Elrohir had found a way to transform that guilt into something more bearable. Elladan had not.



"He needs to understand that I have other responsibilities."



Elrohir already knew what Elladan would say next. His twin's inner turmoil had begun to wear on his nerves. "And yet you have yourself tied in knots worrying about him."



Elladan grimaced. "Am I that predictable?"



"You are becoming a little repetitive, yes," Elrohir said with a short laugh. They continued in silence for a while. "I do not think he knows what he is doing to you. I think he is hurting so much that he does not have the capacity to feel anyone else's pain."



"And I love him, and no matter how frustrated I feel, my heart tells me that he needs me more than ever."



"Sometimes love is best served by truth." Elrohir's voice took on a strange, distant tone. "Even when it hurts."



Elladan glanced at his twin, puzzled by his manner. "You speak as if you know."



Elrohir shook his head violently. "It is a trifle, nothing more. But he cannot go on indefinitely, hiding from his feelings, and you may be the only one who can force him to confront them."



"I know that. I am just afraid that it will push him beyond what he can bear."



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



The elf greeted him with hungry kisses that nearly drove all thought from Elladan save the eager signals from his groin. With difficulty, he grasped Melpomaen's forearms and forced him to take a step back. Melpomaen looked at him in confusion and hurt. Elladan bit his lip, at war with himself over what he needed to do and what the elf so desperately needed from him. His lover had not borne his absence well; he had lost weight and color. He looked like a lost child.



"We need to talk." The elf's face registered alarm; Elladan could feel eyes watching him warily as he paced nervously in the small space of Melpomaen's bedchamber. "I have had some time to think, about you, and us and what we are to one another."



Perhaps if he had noticed that the elf's eyes had dimmed, if he had realized that the elf had retreated into his protective shell…perhaps if he had realized that the elf heard only his last words…perhaps it might have turned out differently.



After he had finished, he dared to look at his lover. Melpomaen was very still - and as closed to him as ever. "Have you heard anything I have said?" Elladan could not keep the exasperation from his voice.



"I - I will think on it," Melpomaen managed, in a shaky voice. He did not dare meet the peredhel's eyes, but he sensed it was the wrong response. He licked his lips nervously. It did not matter, did it? He had felt for some weeks his lover's growing distance, had expected this break even longer.



"Is it - is it all right if I stay tonight?"



The elf shook his head wordlessly.



Elladan took a step toward him. "Melpomaen…"



The elf looked up, felt his rigid control slipping. "Go." He looked away, heard the door latch catch, and knew he was alone.



'I cannot continue on like this.' The final words of Elladan's long speech rang in his ears. Suddenly too weak to stand, Melpomaen sank to his knees. He leaned his forehead against the bed as sobs welled up to shake his thin frame.



Melpomaen had the next day to himself, and Elladan was not surprised that the elf failed to appear at breakfast - he was a late riser when given the chance. Yet he did not see him at dinner or the evening meal, and upon inquiry, he learned that no one had seen the young elf all day, nor did he answer when Elladan knocked at his door. Deeply concerned, he let himself into the rooms.



He found the elf sitting cross-legged on the floor of his dressing room, his hair loose around him like a shroud, as if he had dressed with the intent of leaving the rooms and lost his way somewhere between washing up and braiding his hair.



"I feel like I have never known you at all." He looked at Elladan through eyes like holes.



Elladan sat down behind him and wrapped his arms around the elf.



"No!" Melpomaen tried to shake himself free.



Elladan kept his arms around the struggling elf. "Fileg, I am sorry. I did not want to leave you alone for so long."



"No one meant to leave me alone," Melpomaen snapped.



Elladan kissed the top of his head, rocking the elf gently. He felt the bony shoulders shaking.



With a keening cry, the elf slumped forward in Elladan's arms. "It hurts."



Elladan felt helpless. He could only hold his lover and wait the the storm to pass - he seemed to bring no comfort tonight.



At length, the elf grew quiet and still. Passively, he let Elladan undress him and put on a nightshirt. He allowed him to lead him to bed.



"Will you be all right if I go to get something to help you sleep?"



Melpomaen gave no answer. Elladan sighed - he could do no good here.



It was time to come clean with his father.



He was in luck - Elrond was still awake, working on correspondence in his library. He looked up as his son knocked lightly on the partly closed door. "Elladan. You keep late hours."



"I was about to remark on the same, Adar."



The elder peredhel carefully wiped his quill and set it down. "You are troubled."



"You are worse than Elrohir. Am I that ingenuous or are the two of you just perceptive?"



Elrond smiled. "A little of both, I think. Your brother has always been more cagey." He carefully blotted his unfinished letter and set it aside. "And you areidiniding the question."



Where to begin? There had been a time when he believed that one day he would no longer need his parents' guidance. He had long since realized his folly. Moreover, his father's approval still mattered to him. "I have made a mess of things, Adar." He looked at his father plaintively. "It is about Melpomaen…we have been involved."



Elrond raised his eyebrows. "Involved?"



"We have been lovers. Not until this spring," he added hastily.



"Elladan, this is totally inappropriate. It will appear that you are using your position to your advantage." Elrond frowned - if his son's confession did not surprise him, it did not please him, either.



"I know that. I did not set out to seduce him, Adar." But that was not really true, was it? He had seen the elf, he had wanted him and he had had him. Only now did he realize that, even if Melpomaen was by law an adult, he was still, in many ways, a child.



"It would be an ugly situation in any case, but Elladan, I am responsible for him."



"Then help him!" He looked down. "Because I cannot. I have tried to draw him out, but he only grows more distant. And then last night -"



Elrond remained silent, waiting for his son to go on.



"Last night I tried to speak with him. I tried to make him see that as long as he kept all this pain inside, it would be a wall between us." He looked up at the ceiling, tears glinting in his eyes.



"Elladan," his father said gently, "he has suffered for a long time, and if blame must be assigned, then perhaps it lies equally with me. I should have paid more mind to him."



'I should have known,' Elladan chastised himself, recalling Elrohir's words. He should not have left the elf alone at such a difficult time. He should have… .



"Do not torture yourself. Your only mistake lies in your timing. You have given a great deal to him. Perhaps more than you should."



The peredhel looked sharply at his father. How much had his father known, and for how long?



"Your strength can only carry him so far. He must find the strength within himself to overcome his fears."



"And if he does not?"



Elrond did not answer.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



In retrospect, it was apparent to Elrond that the young elf had been grieving since he set foot at Imladris. With a sigh, he poured wine into two glasses and tried to keep his expression neutral in the face of the noxious smoke filling his library.



"Perhaps even before," Mithrandir suggested, taking the wine. He had journeyed from time to time with Lord Gildor's people and had known Melpomaen since the elf was but a babe.



"I should never have agreed to take him as a student. If I had told his parents to wait a year - "



"The same thing might have happened. In any event, we cannot change the past. It is the here and now we must manage as best we can."



Elrond frowned. "And if we cannot manage it? The child grows weaker each day. Elladan suffers for him - I do not know if I worry more for his heart or his health. Now Elrohir is showing effects." He felt a bolt of anger toward this waif, with his irresponsible and selfish parents, who threatened what remained of Elrond's family.



"Now, Elrond, it is not the little one's fault," Mithrandir chided.



"I know it, but what am I to do? I cannot imagine what possessed the child's parents to leave without warning or even notice of their going," Elrond said. In his mind, he saw his own mother fleeing with the Silmaril, leaving her children to the whim of her pursuers. The hurt still lingered, and despite the very different circumstances of the present situation, Elrond could understand the young elf's pain. "Every instinct as a healer tells me to send him west before it is too late."



"But..."



"I do not know how Elladan will handle it. His mother, now his lover...he may well follow Melpomaen. And if he leaves, Elrohir is certain to go."



"You ask for my council, but your mind is already made up. You know what you have to do," the wizard said, dra on on his pipe.



"That does not make it easier," Elrond answered, with a pointed look at the offensive pipe, but Mithrandir understood that Elrond referred not to Longbottom Leaf but to the unhappy task before him.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Elladan sat next to the bed with his head resting on the pillow next to his lover's, his strong hand wrapped around a skeletal one. Elrond saw that even now, his son was giving as much of himself as he could spare to his lover - even now, when no hope remained.



"Elladan," he said quietly. "I need to speak with Melpomaen alone."



Elladan sat up, the toll of his efforts to save his lover apparent in the shadows under his eyes. He kissed the young elf on the forehead and left without a word.



"Melpomaen?"



The elf blinked and turned his head. Wasted and drawn, with eyes enormous and ringed with reddish shadows, it had once been a beautiful face. Elrond felt pity for the young elf, who had not lived enough to throw life away so carelessly. He smoothed a lock of soot-black hair from the child's face. Melpomaen's cheek was cold to the touch. Elrond began to wonder if it might not be too late already.



"It is time to think about going to the Havens."



Melpomaen closed his eyes tightly. He had tried, had heard Elladan beg and plead, had let his lover feed him and had swallowed sleeping draughts obediently, but he had only grown weaker. He could not remember the last time he had kept anything down or found rest in his dreams. "When?" he asked dully, his eyes still shut.



"Soon. It will take a few days to make the arrangements."



Elrond knew that the worst of his task remained before him. He found his sons curled up together on Elrohir's bed. He could not help but smile, recalling how Celebrian had compared them to cats huddled together for warmth and comfort. He was sorry to wake them.



Elladan, his nerves on edge, sat up immediately when his father touched his shoulder. "What is wrong?"



"I have spoken to Melpomaen. I think we must send him west, lest he fade beyond all recovery."



Elrohir reached for his brother in sympathy, but Elladan shook off his hand and slipped off the bed. Hands laced behind his head, he paced, looking up at the ceiling with unshed t in in his eyes. "I thought...I knew he was fading, Adar, when first we...were intimate. But I hoped he would - why is my love not enough?" He came to the door and stood still, his back to the room.



Elrond looked sadly at his son. "You ask me, of all people, this question?"



Elladan whirled to face his father, hand to his mouth. "I am sorry, Adar, I was not thinking." He slumped against the wall. "When?" he repeated Melpomaen's question.



"Sooner rather than later, I think. I fear we may have waited too long already." Unable to offer words of comfort, Elrond left his sons alone. Though it tore at his heart, he restrained himself from asking whether Elladan - and possibly Elrohir - would also go west. Mithrandir had wisely warned him against influencing their decision. To remain at their father's behest would only lead to resentment, and Elrond knew that the gaping wounds left by Celebrian's departure remained just under the surface, ready to bring down the façade of normal family life at the slightest provocation.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



"Will you go with him?"



Elladan stared at the floor. "I do not know. I need time to think."



Elrohir got up and stood before his brother. "If you leave, then I go, too."



Their father would be left alone, and Elladan knew that Elrond could not follow his family west. Even if the ancient peredhel had not sworn to see the end of what his King had started, there was the matter of Vilya. There remained few elves in Middle-earth with the power to protect the Three, and fewer still who would accept such a burden. For better or worse, Elrond could not abandon his trust.



"Do not be hasty, brother. I am not certain yet that I will go with him."



Elrohir looked at him sadly. "I know you too well, Elladan. You nearly broke when Naneth left. You could not go through that again."



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Elladan returned to his lover's bedchamber with eyes red-rimmed and swollen. "Have you even thought about what you are about to do? The demons that assail you are not orcs that can be left behind, Fileg. Healing may be no easier to find in Aman."



Melpomaen closed his eyes, suddenly very tired. "Does it matter?"



"I suppose it does not, not to you. You lie in this bed and let others make decisions for you, just as you have always done. You have let others tell you how to feel about yourself, but you had a choice. I am sorry that no one made you feel loved, that your parents did not have the kindness to tell you of their leave-taking. You deserved better.



"I have given you my heart, my strength, and I have given them freely, asking nothing in return," Elladan continued. "Yet ever did you look at me with suspicion; you took what I would give, but never returned my gift. I grow weary of giving love in return for nothing."



"Elladan, I have loved you!"



"Love cannot exist without trust."



"Then perhaps I am incapable of it," Melpomaen said quietly.



Elladan sat down on the bed, stroking the elf's hair. "I do not believe that. If I did, I would not offer you the one thing that remains mine to give - but I will not offer it without condition. I would give you my soul, if you would have it until the end of Arda. But you must give me yours in return.



"You would bind yourself to me? Why?"



"I love you, you silly fool. I want to wake up next to you until the end of time. You have so feared that I would leave you that you failed to see that I have been in a terror that you would die."



Melpomaen turned this over in his astonished mind. Such bonds were not made lightly between the Firstborn.



"Where you go, I will follow," Elladan said softly. "To the halls of Mandos, if that be your choice."



"No! I could not lead you there," Melpomaen said in a choked voice.



"Then choose to live, Fileg. And do not tell me it is not your choice. Your grief is such a weight on you that it seems you cannot breathe. Let me share that burden. It is all I have ever asked of you."



Left alone to think about Elladan's proposal, Melpomaen was seized by doubts. The binding of elves offered certainty, an assurance to which Elladan had obliquely referred: the certainty of 'forever'. Elladan would never leave him. Such a bond was even stronger than the link between mother and child, for though one of them might die or go west, their souls would remain inextricably tied. There were no second chances in elven marriage - there was no dissolution, no declaration of mutual mistake. Elves could not marry twice.



Yet this permanence filled Melpomaen with anxiety. He was not sure that he could do what Elladan asked of him. His world of fear was killing him, but it was a world he knew well, one whose boundaries had become, in a strange way, comfortable. Could he trade the fear he knew for something unknown? What if he proved unworthy, what if he did, indeed, find that he could have no peace but in death? His hold on Elladan would become a source of regret, even resentment. It did not seem to the elf that he warranted such a sacrifice; in time, Elladan would forget him and find a love less complicated and a lover less troublesome.



"Well, you have got yourself in a fine state, young elf."



Melpomaen looked up to see eyes twinkling under bushy eyebrows. He managed a weak smile; Mithrandir had always brought him comfort.



The wizard sat down next to the bed. "I hear you are to go to the Havens tomorrow."



The elf shrugged. "So I am told."



"I gather that is not what you wish."



"I do not know what I wish." He looked at the wizard. "I want the pain to end."



Mithrandir inclined his head slightly. "That is understandable. But pain is a part of living. It is up to us to decide whether we will let it consume us or be our teacher."



"So I am, perhaps, better off with death," Melpomaen said, looking away.



"You throw away your immortality lightly, little one." Elves who faded from grief rarely had the opportunity to leave the halls of Mandos. "In their hearts, your parents left Middle-earth long before you were born. They hoped you would give them reason to stay, and that was a great deal to expect of an innocent child.



"It seems to me that you cannot stop wishing for what you never had, and so you do not see what you have now," the wizard continued. "Elladan loves you - he would follow you to the west, though it grieves him to leave Middle-earth. It is a sacrifice not made for one who is unworthy. Yet I think it would be a tragedy should you take the straight path. Middle-earth," he said, with a serious look, "would miss even one shy little apothecary. Erestor tells me that you have a rare gift."



"Lord Erestor said this?"



"Hmmm, let us say that Erestor is not the ogre you think him to be. He is quite fond of you, although," he paused, his eyebrows knitting in an amused frown, "he thinks you are a bit scatterbrained."



A strange sound came from the elf, almost a squeak from long disuse. He laughed.



Mithrandir smiled. "There is a secret to living, if you will let an old wizard blather on a bit more. Contentment lies not in having what we want, but in wanting what we have. You cannot change what has already been, young elf." Mithrandir hoisted himself to his feet with the help of his staff. "I will leave you in peace, now. Shall I send Elladan to you?"



Melpomaen nodded - best to get through this before he lost his courage, he thought.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Elladan drew some hope from his lover's small smile. He sat down on the bed and Melpomaen took his hand.



"I must look awful."



"You are beautiful to me." He laughed. "But yes, you do look awful."



Melpomaen looked down at their clasped hands, covering both with his free hand. "I do not know if I can do this," he frowned.



"Baby steps."



Melpomaen looked at him quizzically.



"You have seen a baby learn to walk. He takes his first step and ends up in a heap, but with a loving hand to help him balance, he learns to take more and more steps, and as he does, his legs grow stronger. And at last he is ready to try walking on his own, and he finds out that falling does not hurt so much as he thought it might. He does not have far to fall, after all.



"You and I will take baby steps," Elladan continued. "I have been guilty of asking you to run when you were not yet able to walk, and I am sorry for that. If I promise to be more patient, will you trust me enough to take my hand and take those first steps?"



Melpomaen started to look away through habit, avoiding his lover's eyes in fear that the peredhel would see into his guarded heart. With an effort, he turned back to meet Elladan's gaze. "I will try - that is all I can offer."



Elladan leaned forward and kissed him gently. "It is enough."



Once, a small child had reached for a loving hand and found none. Melpomaen reached for the hand now offered, and holding on for dear life, began to learn to walk, all over again.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



(Some Months Later)

Melpomaen trembled with aftershocks, his body tightening like a vise around Elladan's still-thrusting member. The peredhel groaned, grew more forceful as he sought his own completion. The elf gave a trembling sigh as the organ inside him swelled and spilled its seed.



Elladan nuzzled his forehead against Melpomaen's cheek. After lying still for a few moments, he began to lift himself off his lover's body, but Melpomaen stopped him. He was not yet ready to lose the intimate contact between them. "That was nice," he said softBR>



"Nice! That is all it was to you? Nice?" Elladan said in mock outrage.



Melpomaen smiled and turned his head to kiss the peredhel. "Nice," he said firmly. He felt quite content at this moment, with their bodies still joined together, flesh against flesh.



Elladan understood what he meant. In the months since they had bound together their souls, he noticed a new peace in their lovemaking, a perfection both emotionally exhilarating and physically satisfying. He could live with 'nice'. He moved and this time Melpomaen, eyes glazed in sleep, made no protest. Elladan curled in a spoon about the young elf and listened to his lover's heartbeat, and his last thought before he joined Melpomaen in dreams was that 'nice' would be just fine forever.



Epilogue



The patient made a dreadful face as he sampled the draught. Across the room, an anxious voice broke in. "Are you sure that will not harm him?"



"I am quite certain," the apothecary told him firmly, then turned to the patient with a look that would brook no further protest.



The patient finished the draught and lay back, a disgusted look on his face. "That was awful." With an amused smile, the elf took the empty cup. "Thank you," the patient added as the willowy creature glided to the door. The elf turned back and gave little bow of his head, in that strangely humble yet dignified way of elves.



"You are quite welcome, Master Frodo."

---

Final notes:



- I don't mean to imply that Melpomaen heals Frodo, only that Elrond may have had the help of a good druggist.



- The chapter title and Gandalf's words, 'Contentment lies not in having what we want, but in wanting what we have' are paraphrased from Sheryl Crow's 'Soak up the Sun'.



- 'Nífdalu', the name of the mountain to which Glorfindel refers, is made up - as far as I know, Tolkien never gave names to the mountains near Imladris. It means 'flat-face'.



- If there is any confusion remaining about Melpomaen's age, I've followed Morgoth's Ring, 'Laws and Customs Among the Eldar'. Elves come of age at 50, which, if you read the text carefully, appears to correspond to 18 rather than 21. However, elves continue to grow and may not reach their full size until 100. LACE also specifies that 'bodily union' between elves creates the marriage bond, and obviously, I've chucked that part right out the window (not to mention that Tolkien almost certainly never envisioned the bonding of two male elves).