The Music in My Heart

Hi all. I have placed a photo manip in the photos section of the 3 Yahoo groups (membership required) --- Elrondslaves, Elvenlords, and LOTR Adult Fanfiction. It is a lovely 'bookcover' made by a wonderful friend, Lady Victoria for this story. If you are interested, please have a look! I'm posting it with her permission. Its beautiful!

Happy reading! Feedback appreciated!

Title: The Music in My Heart, Chapter 52 (betaed)
Author: Sorsha
Fandom/Pairing: Elrond/OFC, Glorfindel/Haldir, Elladan/OFC, Elrohir/Legolas, others implied
Rating:.NC-17 for future chapters
Warning: AU (Story set 770 years after ROTK); Slash and het.
Feedback: This is my first fanfic, so constructive feedback appreciated.
Archive: AFF.net; fanfiction.net
Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Alex Cat for her help in betaing this fic. Thanks also to Lady Victoria for her comments and support.
Disclaimer: Any of the residents of Middle-earth and Aman that you recognize belong to Prof. Tolkien’s estate. The same is true about Middle-earth and Aman. I’m only visiting and admiring the “views”.
Summary: Sauron may be gone, but his legacy of evil still lingers. As Middle-earth faces the threat of another dark lord, a party of elves departs Aman on a mission for the Valar, a mission of mercy long delayed.

Chapter 52 --- Invincible Summer

“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay
an invincible summer.”
Albert Camus

*****

Erestor had always been intrigued by the extent to which the human city of Minas Tirith and the elven city of Imladris reflected the natures of their flesh and blood inhabitants and, ultimately, of his friend and his friend’s beloved twin. Minas Tirith soared forth from the mountains, demanding the attention of all that gazed upon it. It projected its bold beauty with passion and its very form seemed to convey motion… action… power. The “City Of Kings” towered over the flat plain of Pelennor, all the more imposing for its bold lines and daring shape, so much more than simply the sum of all its varied parts.

It seemed a monument to mortality itself, boldly carved from the side of a mountain. The lifespan of men was finite. There was little time to waste on modest first impressions and subtle statements that required time to appreciate and understand. No, Minas Tirith was not subtle… it was majestic and urgent. Minas Tirith put him in mind of a ship at full sail, surging across the plains of Middle-earth. It had always reminded him of Elros’ lusty embrace of his human blood and the pain-filled day he set sail for Númenor, his eyes fixed on his future… driven by an urgency his heartbroken twin could neither comprehend nor share.

If Minas Tirith sang of boundless energy and a lust for living, Imladris whispered of the secrets of the ages and seduced its visitors with matchless beauty and wisdom accumulated over many millennia. The Last Homely House nestled rather than soared. It existed in harmony within its valley and, from a distance, gave the impression of having been crafted with the forming of the cliffs themselves. The elegant details of elven design slowly emerged as the observer drew closer, their delicate and exacting elements all the more breathtaking and awe-inspiring as one was pulled into Imladris’ heart.

Imladris took time to comprehend and always left visitors with the nagging feeling they had but scratched the surface. The valley realm was clearly elven in its design and sensibilities, but it teased the senses with hints of the magic and passion of the Maia and the Edain. While Elros had abandoned all save his mortal blood, his twin was all too aware of his mixed heritage. It imbued all he touched. Imladris was mysterious, refined… and immortal. It was also a sanctuary and a place of learning… of care. It was Elrond, and like its founder, was unique in all ways.

Glancing to his left, Erestor studied the profile of his friend. He knew without asking that Elrond was haunted by the ghosts these places harboured… including the ghost of one that had never lived to see the rise of the realm of Gondor by his descendant’s hands. Elros’ realm… his grave lay to the west, lost long ago to an angry sea. Gondor and its lands… its people, were all that was left to mark his brother’s passage on Arda. Its survival owed much to Elrond’s devotion to his twin’s line. He had sustained and protected the heirs of Isildur, even as it claimed his beloved Arwen.

/He has been unusually quiet for days… sad since we left Imladris. There are so many ghosts in this place. His memories of Arwen and Estel will lead him back to Elendil… to all we lost in the battles against Morgoth and Sauron… to Ereinion. It reminds him of Elros and their parents… so many losses to remember. I wonder if he still tortures himself with the choice he made?/

A movement to Elrond’s side captured Erestor’s attention. His daughter’s grey mare, Anoron, drew level with Elrond’s large bay stallion. Eyes straight ahead, Seere reached out her hand to take his in gentle grip. A slight smile touched Erestor’s lips as he watched the tense set of the elf lord’s shoulders begin to relax as he twined his fingers with hers. /Celeborn is right. Their bond is now quite deep and I think he has finally begun to rejoice that he made the choice as he did./ (dawn)

Feeling his horse shift under his legs as they began the decent to Pelennor Field, Erestor instinctively leaned forward in his saddle to compensate for the horse’s movements. He noted that the massive gates to the Gondorian capital had swung open and a patrol was emerging to meet them. Barely able to contain a sigh of relief as he shifted yet again to adjust for his horse’s movement, he began to anticipate the pleasure of a hot bath and a comfortable bed.

/You have grown soft, Erestor! No one would believe you were the same elf that rode at Elrond’s side during his days as Herald… and as spy for Gil-Galad’s army gathering intelligence from far-flung… often dangerous places. We went for months on end without such comforts, living rough and wild. You are already weary and we are only five days out of Caras Galadon. You will not last long once we embark on the actual mission at this rate./

This latest thought drew his gaze back to Seere. He felt the weight of his fears for her safety settle heavily upon his shoulders and heart. /We have made this first part of our journey without mishap. I can only pray that we are able to keep her safe when we leave the protection of Minas Tirith to begin our mission. If Minas Tirith houses ghosts for Elrond, Gondor is the place of my greatest tragedy… my greatest pain. Laurea! Seere is all I have left of her. Surely, neither Elrond nor I would survive losing her./

*****

/It still troubles me to see them dance so intimately. How do I reconcile myself to the fact that my Ada desires an elleth I helped raise… one that is like a much younger sister? It seems wrong. I know he has no memory of giving her a bottle or the inevitable soaking one could expect when helping with her nightly bath… Ai! Why did I think THAT?! The mental image of them sharing a tub is going to stay with me all night!/

Elrohir accepted a glass of wine from the servant circulating amongst the large throng attending the welcoming feast Queen Arinzil had arranged to celebrate their arrival and to mark her first meeting with her great-grandsire. Seeing the knowing expression, the obvious rebuke on his mate’s face from across the room, Elrohir realized he was making a poor impression on those assembled by his obvious lack of acceptance of the match. Amused at how much Legolas could convey with a single glance, he began to weave his way across the room in his direction.

“If you want to scold me, may I suggest we move to the dance floor, melme? I promise to try and behave.” The grin on his face did little to appease his angry mate. In a soft, low purr he suggested, “Perhaps, I need a sound spanking when we retire to our chambers? I am a very bad elf after all!” (love)

A wicked grin replaced the stern glare. “That can be arranged, peredhel nin! Tis a good thing we will not begin our march tomorrow… but sitting for hours in meetings on a sore behind may help reinforce the lesson!” (my half-elf)

Wincing, he felt a slight blush steal over his cheeks… and not just the ones visible. Hearing Legolas’s amused reaction, he sighed. “I know I need to try harder to accept Ada and Seere’s match, but it is hard. A part of me will always see her as the tiny elfling that needed my care. It bothers me to think of her… in that way with my Adar. Surely, you can understand that.”

“Aye, I can. I have similar memories. But, Ada Elrond does not. He has never known her other than as she is now… a lovely, mature elleth. She has never seen him as anything other than a desirable elf of great intellect and power. It is not your right to impose your memories on him and expect him to feel the same… to stop loving and desiring her.” Seeing Elrohir’s reaction to the last, he added, “He desires her Elrohir… lusty, passionate, needy desire and she him. Accept that or you will damage your relationship with them both!”

Sulking, the peredhel asked, “How would you like it if I tried to force you to contemplate your Ada’s love life? You would not be any more comfortable with that than I am in this.”

A sad look came to the prince’s face. “You are wrong in that… for the most part. My Ada has been alone since I was only one hundred and forty years old… my youngest sister was only a toddler. That is over four thousand years. He has never taken a lover in respect of their vows for fear it would keep Nana bound to Mandos. He never forgave his own father for having an affair with the High King, especially so soon after his own Naneth’s death. Were he free to find love, I would rejoice to see him happy again… even if I would not wish to know the intimate details.”

“And, if it was someone you had known since she or he was an elfling… say one of your sisters’ friends?” he challenged.

Laughing, Legolas nodded. “It would not matter. He would be the one that must live with their silly conversations and endless giggling… for their friends are very much like them.”

The two elves shared a smile at the thought of his sisters. “I suspect, given the looks he was giving Seere at Midwinter, he might have been tempted had he been free and she had not already committed herself to your Adar. Seere is exactly the type of mate he would desire… smart with a wicked sense of humour and the personality to stand up to his temper, but I doubt Ada Elrond would give her up willingly.”

Sighing deeply, Elrohir agreed. “I do not think that likely. I will try to stop being so judgmental, but I cannot promise to do this overnight. I want my Ada to be happy too… he has been alone and lonely far too long. Seere is all I would hope for as a mate to share his life… though the thought of her sharing his bed still bothers me.”

“Far enough, melme. But do not think this gets you out of your punishment… you are still a very bad elf,” Legolas teased, the promise of a passion-filled night clearly evident in his eyes. “Come… I wish to dance.” (love)

Smirking, Elrohir turned to walk out onto the dance floor, a flirtatious sway in his gait.

*****

The first meeting of the expeditionary forces leaders had gone as well as most had expected. The terms agreed to at the Council in Imladris were restated as the basis of the alliance. That had taken most of the morning. A lavish mid-day meal had been provided for the delegates in a private courtyard that commanded an excellent view of the valley and Osgiliath.

Moving toward the waiting buffet, Elrond considered the likely direction of talks in the coming days. Reaching over to take Seere’s hand, he felt the tension of the morning recede. “I was thinking to visit some of the ones living here in Minas Tirith that might have a link to the mystery puzzle. Aranuir’s men have been quite thorough in trying to bring to safety any that might have a link to one of the dark lords and those with strong mystical abilities. I am interested to see what we might learn from them. Would you like to join me, Lirimaer?” (lovely one)

Squeezing his hand in silent affection, Seere nodded her head. “That sounds like an excellent idea. I know they have been interviewed. I read the reports with you after all, but I have questions I would like to ask. Do we need to make arrangements through the Prince or can we simple plan to visit them later today?”

“Let us find out… after we make our selections. Our places seem to have been reserved near Ara and his mother. We can talk to them over our meal.” Reaching to collect two plates, he handed one to Seere, as his eyes scanned the choices before them. “So what will you have… the roast chicken looks tempting as does the grilled venison?”

Grinning up at her betrothed, she teased, “Admit it… you want some of each. It is good to see your appetite return, so let me help you fill your plate. Humm, I think I will have a little of the chicken…”

A soft chuckle left his lips as he watched Seere begin to pile food on his plate. /She is right… as usual. My appetite has returned. My children are still here. I feel the happiness their marriage brought them and I see the mark of their hand on this realm. Seeing… feeling this was something I needed to help me finally let them be a peace./

The faint echo of pleased laughter drifted to his ears. Only Seere understood the smile that softened his face… and lightened his fëa. His dread at the prospect of finding Minas Tirith empty of the two he had last seen under the arch of her main gate had proven to be unwarranted. (spirit)

He had felt their presence the moment he rode through the massive entrance into the City. Though he would have to wait until the singing of Eru’s Song was finished and world remade to see them again, he was comforted by the joy and contentment he found in the lingering whispers of their spirits. His beloved children were not lost; they were home and he had found them.

*****

Arrangements for the interviews had taken a little longer than he had expected. It was not until the following afternoon that he and Seere joined a group of seven men and two women in Prince Aranuir’s study. Once introductions had been made, the prince asked each to explain why they had been identified as a person of potential significance. The two women and four of the men were known as seers among the people of their village. One, a woman called Verilin, was known well beyond her local village. Her gift was known across most of Gondor.

Of the remaining men, two had been brought to Minas Tirith because they possessed either knowledge or artefacts that might make them a target for the Hordes. The oldest of the group, a man named Bergil, was a renowned loremaster of Gondor already living in the capital. Bergil had spent most of his life reading and archiving the mountains of records that existed in the world of men regarding the two dark lords. The final two had inherited relics that ancestors had found while serving as soldiers during the various conflicts that had plagued Middle-earth. They knew little beyond the family history that had passed down to them from prior generations.

After talking to the group for an hour, Elrond and Seere traded a look. It was obvious that, with the exception of Verilin and Bergil, the others could offer little in the way of new insight. They had been talking amongst themselves for several months and had tainted their memories and visions through their talk… and by an unconscious desire to impress their fellows by elaborating the details.

The war trophies had been confiscated by Aranuir’s steward and were being studied by a panel of scholars appointed by the Queen. It had grown to include Erestor and Celeborn with their arrival. Confident that this aspect of the research was well in hand, Elrond began to subtly manoeuvre the two they wished to interview in greater depth away from the others. Seeing this, Aranuir announced that he had arranged a special meal for the group as thanks for all of their help and for the inconvenience their detention in Minas Tirith had caused. Within moments, he had cleared the room of all but the four.

*****

“It may interest you to know, Master Bergil, that we have spent much of the last year researching the historical records of Gondor and the other realms for the years since Sauron’s defeat. We have been developing a timeline that details incidents from across Middle-earth that appear to be part of some organized plan… though the purpose of this plan remains a mystery,” Elrond began. “Are you familiar with this work, by chance?”

“No, but I had wondered what was happening. His Highness, Prince Aranuir, had given instructions that certain records be copied. As I oversaw this work, I was aware that it covered the time period you have defined. I assume our records were provided for your research, my lord?” the man asked.

“Indeed, yes. I thank you and your colleagues for your assistance. That material was quite helpful,” the elf lord responded.

After trading a look with Seere, Elrond continued. “We have brought a copy of our findings for review by the Council Queen Arinzil has convened. Given your extensive knowledge of the records amassed on the two Dark Lords, it would be helpful for you to review this material. You would likely see connections that elude us. Would you be willing to work with Lady Seere and myself to analyze this information?”

The elderly man drew himself a little straighter upon hearing the request. “I would be honoured, my lord… my lady, to assist in any way that I can. If it would help, I gave the prince a list of other masters that might possess knowledge or information to aid this cause. None I named have yet arrived… surely some among them would be willing to help?”

A sad look came to the faces of the elves. “I believe the prince informed those of you detained in Minas Tirith about the potential danger you might face from attack by the Hordes. The others on your list were taken in raids before the prince could reach them. Their fate is unknown. My heart is heavy that I must tell you that you are the only loremaster left that can aid us.”

The room became still and quiet as the import of the elf lord’s words became clear to the two humans. “I have seen this list… a cousin of mine was on it. None of them was found… alive?” Verilin asked.

“I regret we do not know the fate of any on the list… nor of the others taken over the last seven hundred years,” Seere answered, reaching over to cover the woman’s hand where it gripped the edge of the table. “Scholars, keepers of artefacts, seers… those with magical abilities. My mother may have been one of those taken, for her disappearance fits the pattern.”

“I am sorry, my lady,” both whispered.

Several minutes passed as the two struggled to come to grips with this new information. “My village was attacked by the Hordes several weeks after I came to Minas Tirith. Were they… after me? Did my family and friends die… because of me?”

“Nay! The only ones responsible for those deaths are the monsters that carried out the attack. Such attacks have occurred across Middle-earth with no apparent target. You did not choose to be a seer, the One chose you. To have ignored that would have been to turn your back on Eru Ilúvatar! I know not the path of the mortal after death, but I do know Eru loves his children. Your family and friends are in his loving care… never to know pain and suffering again,” Elrond whispered.

Tear-blurred eyes lifted to meet the shining silver gaze of the elf. Neither human had ever met an elf before this day, much less one of legend. Rather than being overwhelmed by him as both had secretly feared, Lord Elrond had proven to be both gracious and caring. The beautiful elleth with him… the granddaughter of Gandalf himself, was warm and sincere. In that moment, both knew they would do anything they could to aid in their cause.

Trading a look with the woman seated beside him, Bergil nodded his head. “Whatever we can do… we will.”

*****

The days that followed took on a routine. In the mornings, they either attended meetings of the Council or went to the Archives to sift through the mountains of scrolls and books. Elrond and Seere then had lunch with the Queen and their collective family, sharing stories of days long past. Afternoons were devoted to further research that helped clarify gaps in the mystery puzzle. Each night, both fell wearily into their separate beds, fortified by the modest progress they were making, if not the presence of the other.

Lunch had become Elrond’s favourite time of day as he took particular joy in sharing his memories with his distant grandchildren, especially the young ones. He particularly enjoyed telling them stories of Arwen and Estel. “The day Ara rode into Imladris for the Council… it seemed my beloved son had come home again, so strong is his resemblance to Estel. Arinzil… you favour Arwen most keenly… except for your hair colour. You must take that from your great- grandmother, Lady Éowyn. Hers and Lord Faramir’s daughter married Eldarion’s heir, I believe.”

“Indeed, Adar’ra. My granddaughter and I are the only ones to inherit her pale-blond hair. The rest of your descendents… even those in Rohan, have your ebony-hair and grey eyes… though none have the silver tone of yours,” she commented, obviously disappointed in this fact.

“Arwen’s eyes were a deep blue-grey like my naneth’s… a trait passed down from Lúthien I have been told. Your line does seem to have the pewter-grey tone like my sons and my Adar, so he is the true source of that trait. Elros too had pewter-grey eyes and his hair was a truer blue-black than mine. Elrohir is much like his uncle in temperament, as well as, colouring,” he remarked.

“Elros Tar-Minyatur! The first king of Númenor! He was really your twin? You must be very old indeed!” exclaimed Aranuir’s youngest grandson.

Laughing at the embarrassed expressions ringing the table, Elrond responded, “Oh, I am, penneth… but not as old as others I can name! Would you like to hear a story of my brother from our childhood? He would have been several years younger than you at that time I would guess.” (young one)

“Yes, please!” Seeing the other faces around him light with interest, Elrond smiled.

“Our Ada…”

“Eärendil the Mariner? Is he really a star?”

“I see you have been listening to your tutors. Well done. Yes, he is now a star, placed in the heavens by the Valar to guide the lost and comfort the lonely,” Elrond replied before beginning his story. “But then, he was my Adar… made of flesh and blood like your own. It was a day in late summer and Ada had just returned after a long voyage. After watching Ada’s crew unload cargo from the ship for a few minutes, Elros decided...”

“His wife is Lady Elwing. Is she really a bird?” the small child asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Indeed, my naneth is Lady Elwing… but she is only a bird part of the time. She lives in a tall white tower by the sea from which she flies each night at twilight to meet my father as he begins his voyage. Inside the tower, she is an elleth much as I remember her from when I was a tiny elfling.” Waiting a moment to see if more questions were to follow, he began again. “Ada’s ship had just docked and Elros decided…”

“Eärendil’s ship was called the Vingilot. Was it a big ship?”

Sighing, Elrond settled back into his chair as he took a sip of water. Before he could begin again, Seere leaned over to whisper, “How many elflings did you say you wanted us to have, melme… a half-dozen I seem to remember? Still want six?” (love)

Stifling a laugh, he reached for her hand under the table before taking a deep breath. “Elros decided…”

*****

Seere handed her father the scroll she had been reading. In recent days, they had seldom left the rooms that housed priceless historical records from the first three ages of Middle-earth, a section off-limits to the general public. To aid their work, Bergil had enlisted several scribes to help locate a number of significant documents that offered new insight into some of the events noted on the history puzzle’s timeline. The most recent raised serious concerns about the possible reasons behind the ongoing Horde attacks, as they clarified the link to the Dark Lords of old.

After the War of the Ring, most of the vast store of scrolls and books housed at Orthanc had been brought to Minas Tirith for safekeeping. They had been placed in secure rooms next to the City’s main archive, along with other potentially dangerous documents for further review and possible destruction. Seven hundred years later, the small staff of archivists was still working slowly through the mountains of documents. (the tower at Isengard)

One fact had immediately jumped out to an incensed Elrond and Celeborn. Saruman had used his position as head of the order of the Istari and as leader of the White Council to maintain an extensive intelligence network that long predated his corruption by Sauron. His spies had obtained heretofore unknown information that had been hidden from the rest of the White Council, much of it that might well have changed the course of events had it been shared. Among the most sensitive of their findings was a map that showed the location of secret caches used by Sauron scattered from one end of Middle-earth to the other, thought his precise use of these sites had not been noted on the map.

Attached to the map was an inventory of artefacts and documents the White Wizard had determined Sauron processed. It painted a picture of a paranoid obsession on Sauron’s part to scatter magical objects across the face of Middle-earth, so that he would have access to them if the need ever arose. References were repeatedly made to certain reports that detailed what information was known about the artefacts, but the scribes had yet to find them anywhere in the archives.

Also of great interest were lists of documents on Morgoth and Sauron that Saruman had compiled, many likely written in his own hand. Most of these, to their great frustration, were also missing. Chief among these was a journal purportedly kept by Saruman of his ‘talks’ with Sauron while under the influence of the Orthanc Palantír*. It also hinted that Saruman had learned the fate of the long missing Istari that had disappeared in the distant east in one of his ‘talks’ with the Dark Lord… an ancient mystery Erestor put aside for later study.*

More troubling still were entries in the seemingly innocuous ledgers and logbooks kept by the early archivists that had overseen the transfer of Orthanc’s library to Gondor. Some portions of these inventories had obviously been altered after their original preparation. Other portions of these records were missing entirely. Finally, a series of log entries for the years FA 23 to FA 94, and sporadically thereafter, had shown that only one person, other than the archivists, had been granted access to the records of Orthanc… the son of the great war-hero Gandalf, Lhach Half-elven.

“From what we can piece together, our maps align with Saruman’s records perfectly, Ada. From the log entries, there is little doubt Lhach had access to this information… and likely received little, if any, supervision during those times, given he was trading on his father’s status as a war hero. This would have provided him with the means and opportunity to alter and remove key documents, as well as, access to the rest of this vital information.” Looking over to meet her father’s troubled gaze, Seere concluded, “This appears to be the confirmation we have been seeking to our theories.”

Erestor was silent for a minute as he considered other possible explanations for the information they had uncovered. Satisfied there were no other explanations that could be formulated from the information they had before them, he sadly nodded his head. “I fear you are correct in this. I had hoped to find other people on which we could place blame or identify as another possible suspect… but none have presented themselves to us.”

Waving his hand to encompass the stacks of reports around them, he offered the same conclusion as his daughter. “All of this… coupled with the visions you had of Lhach… I see little that does not demand that conclusion. I believe we have enough information to present to the Council in the morning. Your uncle must be found… and found quickly.”

*****

A/N: Orthanc was originally a Gondorian outpost where Elendil had placed one of the Palantír to aid him in ruling his vast kingdom. The Palantíri were seeing orbs made by the Noldor that allowed the viewer to see and communicate through the other orbs (there were 7). Saruman gave into temptation in TA 2759 and used the one left at Orthanc. As a result, he fell under Sauron’s power via another Palantír the Nazgúl had recovered from Minas Ithil; this is also how Sauron controlled Denethor and eventually drove him mad. The one from Orthanc is the one found by Aragorn (not Pippin) and, as the heir of Elendil, he gained control of it, allowing him to see Sauron’s plans.

A/N: * The unanswered fate of missing Istari seems like a natural sequel to me. I can’t imagine Erestor leaving such a big question alone… not when he’s uncovered such a big clue!