A Breath of Fate

“Elrohir,” Ingrel asked, “Why doesn’t Elladan ever laugh?” The The two elves were lounging in front of the river, a half eaten picnic laid between them. In the river, Glorfindel and Arwen, who had recently returned from Lórien, were splashing each other. Ingrel looked over at Elrohir whose lips were pursed in thought. After a moment he replied, “I do not know. He laughed as a child, as an adolescent. I wish that I could blame my mother’s departure, but he was unhappy even before then. Normally we share every thought and feeling, but he has been very secretive of late.”

Ingrel selected a piece of fruit and nibbled its tender flesh. “I wonder if something happened with an elleth.”

“Why would you say that?” Elrohir asked quizzically, handing her a cloth to wipe the juice from her chin.

She shrugged, taking another bite of her fruit. “Just certain things he says, the way he acts around elleths. You have never noticed it?”

Slowly shaking his head, Elrohir absently tapped his fingers against his leg. “I do not know why I have not noticed it before, but I think that you are correct. He has always looked on the elleths of Imladris with some disdain and intolerance.”

Laughter from the river drew their attention from the serious subject and they watched with matching grins as Arwen pushed Glorfindel under the water and then raced for the shore. He surfaced, spluttering and wiping water from his eyes. Half-heartedly, Glorfindel lunged for his attacker, but he missed her, going under once more.

Arwen giggled as she picked her way through the pebble strewn shore to the blanket. Her teeth were chattering and Ingrel handed her a drying cloth. “I told you it was still to cold to go swimming.”

Childishly, Arwen stuck her tongue out as she dried the dripping masses of dark hair that hung to her waist. Spring had come to the valley, but it was unusually chilly. Glorfindel finally managed to stagger out of the river and Elrohir solemnly handed the shivering elf a cloth as well.

“I do not know why I allow you to convince me to partake in your crazy adventures, Arwen!”

“It is because you adore me, Glorfy, and I have always been your favorite.”

Rolling his eyes, Glorfindel pulled out a flask and took a deep drink. He handed it to Arwen. “This will warm you up.”

She took a drink and then coughed heavily. “What is that?”

Smiling wickedly, Glorfindel said, “It is dwarven ale. It was a gift from Gandalf.”

Still spluttering, Arwen grabbed the bottle of wine from her brother and drank from it deeply. Ingrel raised one eyebrow; she had never seen Arwen so coarse in action. Glaring at her long time guardian and friend, Arwen muttered, “If you ever try to give me that wretched drink again I shall cut off all of your hair and make you eat it!”

The group laughed as Glorfindel hurriedly capped the ale and tucked it away. The afternoon was waning as they started to gather their decimated feast and begin the trek back to the House. They were halfway there when Arwen paused, her face paling.

“Do you feel it?” She gasped, her hand clutching her heart. “The earth has grown still beneath my feet.” Moaning, Arwen fell to her knees, her hair a curtain covering her tortured face. Ingrel dropped the blanket she had been carrying and knelt before her friend.

“What is wrong? What is happening?” Elrohir had already sprinted away, yelling for his father. Glorfindel took Arwen gently in his arms, having been a witness to one of her visions.

“She is seeing something in the future. Something painful,” Glorfindel said, brushing his hands soothingly over her face. Ingrel clutched Arwen’s hand, squeezing it gently.

Thrashing, Arwen moaned again. “There is going to be war,” she gasped. “So much pain, so much death. He has returned.” Her words faded and she swooned in Glorfindel’s arms. Gently, but swiftly, Glorfindel stood and carried Arwen back to the house. Ingrel gathered the abandoned basket and blanket and followed at a slower pace.

She had never before seen such a sight. While it was not uncommon for elves to have the power of Sight, Ingrel had never seen it produce such painful results. Arwen had mentioned them once, but she had been reluctant to explain further. Moving faster, Ingrel soon caught up to Glorfindel.

Elrond met them and took his daughter from Glorfindel, his forehead creased in worry. Not far behind him stood Gandalf, leaning on his staff. Ingrel had met the Wizard several times before and liked him immensely. Unfortunately, with each coming, Gandalf generally had bad news.

“Hail and well met, Gandalf,” Ingrel said, worry evident in her voice as she watched Elrond and Glorfindel enter the House. Gandalf gently patted her shoulder.

“Do not fret overmuch, Ingrel, Arwen has experienced these visions before. Usually right before something untoward is to happen.”

Understanding the Wizard’s tone, Ingrel peered up at the aged Istar. “And what is going to happen, Gandalf?”

“All will be revealed in time, Ingrel,” Gandalf said as he guided her into the House.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Later that evening, Arwen was sleeping peacefully, Ingrel in a chair at her bedside. She was perusing a book of Elven lore when the door slowly opened and Elladan entered. Ingrel looked up at him and watched as he leaned over his sister, pressing a kiss to her brow.

Noticing he wasn’t alone, Elladan looked with some surprise at Ingrel, but did not say anything. He merely watched her. Once, Ingrel might have been unnerved by Elladan’s look, but she understood he did this with everyone. It was as if he were trying to discern every facet of a person’s mind.

Between them, the two had developed an uneasy friendship. They could converse in relative ease with others present, but alone, talk became stilted and awkward. Although the two tried to deny the desire between them, it grew until they could barely stay in the same room. Ingrel denied him because she still sought for her vision and Elladan…well, she didn’t know exactly why, but she had suspicions.

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked, coming to her side of the room. Once again, he was dressed all in black. He had probably been hunting with the Imladris guard.

“I was talking to Arwen before she fell asleep. She said my presence was soothing.” Unfortunately, Ingrel felt anything but soothing now. Her body felt like a tinderbox and one stroke would set her aflame. Elladan watched her, his face impassive, but his eyes smoldered as if he knew, but would do nothing. Since that awful night, he had not touched her, danced with her, or stood nearer then was polite. Ingrel couldn’t help but miss the potential she had seen. She knew that she could easily fall in love with him. It would be so effortless.

“Elrohir can speak of nothing but you,” he said, now looking at his hands. They were large and heavy from handling his sword. Elrohir’s hands were long and gentle, made for painting and sculpting. His were meant for death. His brother’s for beauty. “When can I expect to hear about the betrothal?” He asked bitterly.

Ingrel stood, the book falling to the floor, unattended. “How dare you? Elrohir is my friend, and I am his. Besides, why would you even care, you barely speak to me these days.”

Needing to do something, Ingrel bent and picked up her book, brushing at its cover and keeping her eyes from Elladan’s face. She could not bear to look at him, at his anger. It was terrifying.

“You stand accused of the same, my lady. You will not even look me in the eye!”

Glaring at him, Ingrel laid the book onto her chair and fisted her hands at her waist. “I cannot believe you just said that,” she hissed. “I always try to--”

Her words were lost as Elladan pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. He put all of his anger and frustration into his kiss, punishing her mouth, then suckling it. Ingrel tried to resist, but was swept away in a heady wave of pent up passion and desire. Thrusting her hands into the silken strands of his hair, Ingrel met him stroke for stroke.

Elladan’s hands, heavy and rough, cupped her through the thin material of her dress and Ingrel felt a pool of desire, hot and needy, flow through her. She gasped as he palmed her, squeezing and twisting, sending tendrils of pleasure to her nerves. Breaking the kiss, Elladan moved his lips down her neck slowly, dipping his tongue in the hollow of her throat. Gently, he eased the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, taking the bodice with it, freeing her breasts.

Slowly, Elladan caressed her breasts with his hands, rubbiis fis fingers over her nipples, feeling them pucker and he smiled as he kissed each one, lavishing attention equally. Ingrel fought her gasps as she stiffened with pleasure, her hands gripping Elladan’s head.

Slowly, reality seeped its way through her passion glazed mind and Ingrel remembered exactly where they were and she pulled away from Elladan, who stared at her dumbly for a moment. Thrusting her arms back into her dress, Ingrel rearranged the bodice, glancing over her shoulder to see if Arwen was still asleep. She was, thank the Valar.

“Elladan,” Ingrel whispered. “Your sister is in here, in case you forgot.”

He had the grace to blush and also looked to see if she had woken. “Arwen will sleep like a rock after one of her visions. However, this is most improper.” He paused as if considering something. Taking a deep breath he asked, “Will you walk with me?”

Ingrel hesitated, not sure where this walk would lead. Whenever she was around Elladan, all her good intentions seem to fly out the window. “Just a walk,” he reiterated. “Nothing more, unless you wish it.”

Nodding, Ingrel accepted his arm and they left, closing the door quietly behind them. He led her out to a path that made its way to the stables. “Whenever I am depressed or angI goI go to the stables. The horses will sooth my temper and I think better.”

“I understand,” Ingrel said, “I like to go to the river. I love to swim and it relaxes me.”

Silence reigned and Ingrel fought for something to say, even if it was as inane as the weather. Elladan, however, saved her, “Why is it that we cannot be friends? Why is it that every time I look at you, my heart begins to pound like I am going into battle?”

Helplessly, Ingrel shrugged. “I do not know how to explain it, Elladan, except I feel the same.”

Elladan opened the stable door and Ingrel entered. Several paddocks were opened, allowing the starlight to filter through. Horses whickered in their sleep, one or two who were awake, nudged at Elladan as he walked by. He always had a pat for them, or kind words, and as Ingrel watched him, she realized all her assumptions about him were wrong.

She had always believed that Elladan was hard and cold while his brother was soft and warm. Ingrel was beginning to realize that Elladan had depths that no one knew of, because he ly lly let them show. It was in the way he handled the horses, caring for them as if they were his family. It showed in his concern for his sister, the way he came to check on Arwen in her sleep. It was obvious in the care he gave to his men, the worry for his father, which caused his long stay in the valley, and the deep bond he shared with his brother.

Oh Valar, she did love him.

Ingrel stared hopelessly at the ellon who had captured her heart and had no idea. He would never love her. Ingrel knew that Elladan would never love any elleth. Something had happened to him, long ago, that had made him swear off marriage and love. She wondered what it could have been.

“There was Council, today,” Elladan said, absently rubbing the nose of his horse. “Gandalf wanted to attack Dol Guldur, but Saruman overruled him. There will be war soon, whether or not the White Wizard wants it.”

“War?”

Elladan nodded. “Gandalf believes that Sauron resides in Dol Guldur, gathering all the rings. He will grow in power if nothing is done to halt him.”

Closing her eyes, Ingrel took a deep breath. Elladan was all but warning her that if there was war, he would go. While she had never been a victim of war, nor seen it, she was not blind. She knew that war was terrible and that there was death. There was always death.

“I agree,” Ingrel said, swallowing hard. Elladan lowered his eyes to hers and sighed.

“Just looking at you, imagining your s, do, does the strangest things to my insides.” Elladan reached for her and she came, falling into his arms. Her heart ached with suppressed love, but she said nothing. Instead, she sucked up his comfort and embraced him tightly, never wanting to let go.

Elladan felt the desperation with which Ingrel clung to him and he felt his heart soften. Pressing a kiss to her brow, Elladan murmured sweet nothings into her ear. He did not know what had compelled him to tell Ingrel of the Council. It was not supposed to be general knowledge that Sauron was trying to reassemble himself. Just looking at her, however, caused him to spill his secrets and desires.

“We should go back to the house,” Elladan said, reluctantly. He wished that he could freeze this moment. Never had he felt so much at peace with his life, not since before his mother had left.

Ingrel nodded and thelkedlked, hands clasped, back to her room, unwilling to lose contact with one another. Not much had been said, but so much had flowed between them in those few moments in the stables. Elladan left her at her rooms, giving her one more kiss goodnight. He did not go to his own rooms, though, his mind to active for sleep. Instead, he went to the library and sat in his father’s chair until the sun began to rise in the East.