A Breath of Fate

The next morning found Ingrel standing on her balcony, leaning on the railing. The rising sun’s gentle rays settled on her worn face, the soft wind blowing the silken folds of her dress. She closed her eyes, wishing she could erase the night’s events. Her face burned in shame, and Ingrel was unsure where to step next. Her heart burned for his touch, but her mind warned he was dangerous.

Elladan was like no Elda she had ever known. He was wild, dangerous, and temperamental. Yet she felt drawn to his power, hisghtnghtness. It was crazy and hazardous and insanity. If she wasn’t careful, Ingrel knew she could drown in him, never find herself again. Unfortunately, as risky as the idea was, irillrilled her sense of adventure.

Then there was Elrohir. Her mind prodded her in his direction. He was sensible, polite, and would never hurt her, intentionally or not. There was no danger of losing her heart to Elrohir. Any rational and intelligent elleth would choose Elrohir, but Ingrel had never been accused of being sensible.

Closing her eyes, Ingrel rubbed a hand wearily over her face. And she still didn’t know which brother she had dreamed of. She wanted it to be Elladan, she did, but she could not imagine such a strong, and virile Elda like Elladan needing her help, nor could she imagine Elrohir, so capable and confident needing her guidance.

“Oh, Mandos, help me! Send to me a vision, some other clue. I am so unsure of my path.”

“Are we not all so unsure?” A warm voice asked. Ingrel started and looked over her shoulder at the golden visage of Glorfindel.

“Glorfindel, what brings you to my room so early?”

“I was wondering if you might know why Elladan is as grouchy as an Orc with a toothache.”

Ingrel shrugged, feeling that was as safe an answer as any. Glorfindel joined her at the balcony, staring off to the practice fields. “He is out there now, taking his frustration out on Elrohir. Poor boy.”

She didn’t know if Glorfindel meant Elrohir or Elladan, but she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to talk about this right now, especially with Glorfindel. While the golden Elda had long been her friend, he had helped raise the twins and her predicament placed him in an awkward position.

“So,” Glorfindel asked, “What prompted your cry to Mandos? Or do you not wish to share with one so wise in the ways of the world?”

Ingrel shot Glorfindel a sour look. “I do not appreciate your interference, Glorfindel.”

“You are as grouchy as Elladan, what happened?”

Biting her lip, Ingrel pushed herself into Glorfindel’s arms, needing her friend’s hug. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head. “Ah, my tiny friend, you should never have come to this world. I knew I should have sent you home with Celebrían.”

“I do not know what to do, Glorfindel,” Ingrel’s muffled voice complained. She stepped out of her friend’s embrace and nibbled her lip. “I am lost and my vision does not make sense.”

“The vision of your Elda? Have you mim yim yet?”

Ingrel crossed her arms and looked at her feet before speaking. “Yes and no.”

Looking perplexed, Glorfindel raised an eyebrow in question.

“I have met him, but I do not know for sure if it is him, or someone else,” Ingrel finished lamely.

Glorfindel sighed and leaned against the railing. “Have you tried talking to him, or, someone else?”

Horrified, Ingrel quickly shook her head. “I could never, what if he laughed at me? I would be crushed.”

“Then I suppose you shall never know if he dreams of you.”

Glaring at Glorfindel, Ingrel turned her eyes to the training field where Elladan was battling Elrohir, and winning by the looks of it. “I need to go.”

“By all means,” Glorfindel said, waving his hand to the door. Ingrel was halfway down the hall when she realized that Glorfindel had excused her from her own room. Laughing to herself, Ingrel quickened her pace to the training fields.

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By the time she reached the fields, Elrohir and Elladan had finished and left. Feeling perturbed, Ingrel went into training room to see if either one was in there. It was unusually empty for the middle of the afternoon, and Ingrel could only assume the guard was out practicing in the woods or hunting.

Running her hands over the cleverly crafted weapons, Ingrel ed oed on a sword of silver and metal. It was not large, but it wasn’t small. The blade was sharp and slightly curved. The handle was wrought of silver with inlaid designs of gold. Looking closely, Ingrel saw the blade was shot with mithril and glimmered in the light.

“Beautiful is it not?”

Ingrel turned to see a slender Elda carrying a bow and arrows in the doorway. He had dark hair and gray eyes. Obviously a Noldo.

“Who wrought this piece?” Ingrel asked, slicing it through the air. It handled beautifully, its balance and precision perfect.

“Elladan did, it was one of his first pieces.”

Nodding, Ingrel set the sword back in its place. “He has much to be proud of.”

“He doesn’t work with metal anymore,” the Noldo added, placing his bow on a hook. “After his mother disappeared, he has spent most his time training and hunting.”

“How sad,” Ingrel said, “To turn from such talent.”

The Noldo laughed. “That is exactly what I told him, but he disagreed.”

“Who are you?” Ingrel finally asked.

The dark haired elf turned and grinned at her, bowing with a flourish. aithaith is my name, and aptly so, for when I entered this world I was laughing.”

Charmed by the cheerful Elda, Ingrel smiled and Lalaith’s grin broadened. “There is no need for you to introduce yourself, for yoeauteauty precedes you.”

“I believe, sir,” Ingrel said, coming closer, “That you are something of a flirt.”

“I have been accused of such,” Lalaith said with a casual shrug. Ingrel looked at the bows displayed on the wall and chose a slender one made of yew. “Will you accompany me to the fields, Lalaith, or must you be somewhere else?”

Lalaith sighed dramatically. “I beg a thousand pardons, my lady Princess, but I must abandon you for a meeting with my Captain. I am to be scolded for some silly happening, I am sure. Perhaps another time?”

Ingrel nodded bidding farewell as the silly elf left for the House. Taking his abandoned arrows, she went to where the targets were placed outside. It was nice to have a bow in her hands again. Of the forms of war, Ingrel had always preferred the bow, though she was proficient in sword and hand to hand combat. Having two older brothers meant she was often a practicing tool.

Raising the bow, and settling into a comfortable stance, Ingrel selected an arrow from her quiver and settled on a target. With a soft ping, the arrow was flying, the quivering string the only evidence it had once aligned with the bow. She watched with some satisfaction as the blue feathered arrow embedded itself into the red eye on the target with a rewarding thud.

Enjoying the rush, Ingrel immersed herself in her work, selecting her arrows faster and faster until her movements were a blur and the ping and thud assumed a steahythhythm. Once she had exhausted her supply of arrows, Ingrel shouldered her bow and began to pull them out of the target. She had almost finished except for one, last stubborn arrow that refused to come out. Laying down her bow and the sheath of arrows, Ingrel rubbed her hands together and gripped the shaft of the arrow tightly. Taking a deep breath, she pulled, hard, with all her strength.

The arrow did not move an inch.

Ingrel had never been one to throw a temper tantrum, but she felt like doing so now. Feeling the need to express her anger, she kicked the target. Such a display only gained her an aching toe and the target and the arrow stared back at her, almost gleefully.

Sighing, Ingrel laid her head in her hands. Now she was imagining inanimate objects were watching her. She had to be going insane.

“May I be of some service?”

Turning, Ingrel swallowed hard when she saw Elladan leaning lazily on his sword. He was still sweaty from practice and his shirt was half open to reveal a sculpted chest of muscle and sinew. Sweat dampened his pants and shirt, causing the clothes to cling intimately to his chiseled body. His hair was damp, the dark brown turning inky black, and stray strands clung to face and neck. Braids that had been carefully fixed this morning had come undone, and Ingrel’s fingers itched to run through his silky hair.

‘Compose yourself, you twit,’ Ingrel though to herself. She was not some silly maiden of 50 years. In fact, she was far older than this young…upstart! Although he was so very handsome and who cared about age when one could live until the end of days if one so chose? Shaking her head, Ingrel tried to focus on the present situation.

Looking into his grey eyes, Ingrel remembered with distinct clarity the events of last night, and her lip turned into a slight sneer.

“No, thank you, my Lord, I shall take care of it myself.”

Then she presented her back rudely and yanked at the arrow again. As if mocking her attempts, the arrow quivered, and Ingrel had to resist the strong urge to set the stupid thing ablaze.

A scent of sweat and pine suddenly overwhelmed her senses as Elladan reached around her and began working the arrow out of the target. Ingrel stiffened trying not to touch Elladan’s body, knowing the mere brush would set her own aflame with desire. There was no way in Mandos that she would ever associate with this…mongrel again, not after the insulting way he had treated her. Especially since she had been nothing but nice and polite after meeting him. Why, she had even gone out of her way for him due to his mother’s departure and he responded by calling her a whore! Well, she was going to show this good for nothing ellon exactly what she thought of him and more!

“I am sorry for my behavior last night, my Lady, please forgive me.”

el wel was suddenly glad the Elladan could not see her face, for her mouth had dropped open in shock. He was apologizing! Oh, Eru, what to say? What to do?

“A-apology accepted, I suppose.”

Elladan had worked the arrow out and turned Ingrel to face him. He was so very close and she was sure he could feel the tension in her body.

“What do you mean, suppose?” He asked, without malice.

“Elladan,” Ingrel began softly, “Your words were very cruel last night and undeserved. I have been everything that is kind and good to you since I arrived. I do not understand what I did last night to receive such a horrible response.”

Elladan sighed and pressed a gently kiss to her brow. Ingrel shivered, but did not pull away when he gathered her in his arms, pressing her close. “Forgive me, Vanyalen, for I was not in my right mind last night. I have been…difficult with everyone these past years.”

Sighing into his embrace, Ingrel allowed herself a few moments of comfort before pulling away. “Elladan,” she began, with a sad smile, “I barely know you, and while I agree that there is a strong attraction between us, I want more. I have spent countless ages in meaningless pursuits of pleasure and decadence. Now I want companionship with that pleasure, a partner, for the rest of my life, even past the restrictions of death. Are you prepared to give that to me?”

Elladan was silent, and Ingrel knew his answer before he even had a chance to speak.

“Let us be friends, Elladan. Let us learn about each other before we make any serious decisions.”

The son of Elrond nodded, but his eyes were disappointed and Ingrel knew he sought her for comfort of his own. He was hurting from his mother’s untimely departure, but Ingrel knew that he had to heal himself; she could not do it for him.

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Lalaith means ‘laughter’ in Sindarin.

Vanyalen means ‘beautiful star’ in Quenya. I couldn’t find beautiful in Sindarin.