A Gift of Love

CHAPTER SIX

Decisions and Answers

One of the great joys of my life is to wake with my brother in my arms. It happens often when we are in the wilds together with no fear that we will be discovered. To have the dawn of first light shine on his face and know I am the first to see it is something I had long dreamed of. To now have less fear when we return to our home is a dream I had not hoped to ever realize. Too many nights had us scurrying back to our own rooms least we be found out. It made what we shared seem less pure, more sullied than it is. We are both relieved at Ada’s tolerance of us. It was a burden to us both, a shadow of shame. I recalled what Elrohir has said. Ada would love us whatever our choices.

Our choices. Elrohir has made it plain that he has made his choice in this and waits for me. I watched him sleeping. So peaceful in repose. He is the most beautiful creature I have ever cast eyes on. Little wonder so many covert him. But he is mine and I cannot lose him. Not to another, not to misfortune. And not to misfortune we bring upon ourselves.

I do not have to close my eyes to see. I put my hand to his taunt stomach running my fingers over the flat planes and hard ridges and try to imagine him as I had seen him.

Elrohir spoke of visions. I could not tell my brother what I had seen as my eyes lingered on the garden. I did not see the calm of those surroundings, I did not see a babe being held, I did not see a child playing. I saw my beautiful brother.

Elrohir in a darkened room, the pale glow of candle flame flickering. It was day, I could clearly see the shafts of light through the heavy curtains dancing in patterns on the floor. I did not find time to wonder why the light was shut out. Elrohir laying on a narrow bed, his breath ragged. Elrohir his swollen body writhing as he arched up from sheets beneath him. Elrohir eyes clamped tight shut, mouth open in soundless scream. My beautiful brother, his wondrous form contoured in pain. A knife in my hand. His words.

“End it,” he whispered to me. The blade glowing golden as I lowered it to him, ready to end it. Tears glistening in my eyes. Ada’s hand on my shoulder nodding to me.

I could watch no longer. Elrohir has moved to me, it is to the garden I look once more as I angrily shrug off the hand he has placed on me. How could he think this is the path we should take? How could he think I could let him do this? What good would a child be when I would lose all that I lived for? When I would follow him and the child orphaned?

“No," I had repeated. I turn, desperate for the warmth and vitality of him. Desperate to have him hold me and love me.

He holds me as I weet, unable to tell him, til I sleep.

He sleeps as I awoke, I watch the first light touch his face, whisper my love and rose from the bed. He has stirred only a little while I dress. I would tell him I went in search of breakfast. I also go in search of a measure of peace. Elrohir is deserving of a reason for my reluctance. There is little I can deny my brother and it is with a heavy heart I deny him this. It had been simpler to tell him no months ago. He knew fully then I would accept no other in my bed but him. But what he offers now……a child of both…….I shake my head as what I have seen returned to me. That fragment of foretelling that I could bear to look on. The thought of my beloved brother begging to end his torment overshadows any joy I could feel at holding our child in my arms.

I have taken little notice of the path I take to the kitchen, it is a well worn track that needs no conscious thought from me. It is with surprise then that I come back to myself standing overlooking the courtyard.

The patrol is returning from their night ride. Glorfindel is there, though it is not required of him, yet he would see to each who arrives back, checking and counter checking. One day this will fall to me and Elrohir, though I have no doubt our golden haired protector will be by our sides. And we will welcome such a presence, he has well earned our respect and trust.

My gaze however drifts from Glorfindel to the gathering of elves beside him. Family, lovers, welcoming back into the safety of their arms their loved ones. My attention becomes riveted on two waiting. Long cloaks with hoods pulled over their faces, they scan the arrivals. From my distance I can still see the tense hold of their bodies. I have no doubt others closer would not have seen the subtle touch of one hand on the other. I can see, I know the signs of those who long to be as other lovers but dare not. I see the moment they see the one they search for, I can feel the moment they relax and see the squeeze of one hand to the other as they smile a smile I can not see.

They become lost to me for a moment in the tide of embraces. Then I sight them once more. Arms around another, three of them now together. Once more none would notice the intertwining of arms. None but one who has also mastered the art of those feather careful touches. I can not move my gaze from them, even in this private moment. Heads bowed to each other in their tight circle, brows pressed close, two faces still hidden to me. I do not have to see to know their eyes will be wet with tears at this reunion. Their loved one had been returned safely to them. I wonder at their connection, one to the other.

Family. The thought filters into my mind. What I had dismissed now stands before me.
I look to them with eyes and heart full of possibilities. Possibilities and probabilities. The illtimed image emerges once more. I look down to my hand and can see the dark stains there.

Thoughts then run wild through my mind, an attempt to reconcile so much that makes no sense to me. They pass so swiftly before me I barely have time to breath, much less hold to any.

The knife, the blood, the pain, the small squirming bundle of elfling, the cries, screams, tear stained faces, then hush, I see myself cradling a tiny thing wrapped in pure white, tears falling. I see the turn to the still body on the bed, quiet now, breathing slower, watch as closed eyes open to shine at me. I step toward him holding the dark haired babe cradled to my chest like a precious gift, kneel beside the bed, brush the damp hair from his face.

“For you,” I hear.

I lean heavily against the cool pillar of white marble, grateful for the strength it lend to my trembling body. My eyes close against my tears, holding in the darkness of my private world the image of my brother reaching to touch first my cheek and then that of our newborn child. At that moment I care little for the fears, care not at all for the laws we would defy, thought nothing on the scorn that would be poured on us.

The courtyard is almost empty when I open my eyes to the world beyond my thoughts. Dear ones have been lead away to quieter, private places. A few stand on the edges, smiling, talking. One stands in the centre of the space alone

He looks to me, smiles, adjusts his hood once more to shroud his face then departs.

I bow to his retreating back, turn back along the sunlit corridors to seek my beloved brother.