Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion
Pairings: none
Characters: Círdan, Elrond, Elros, Ereinion, random housekeeper, Ossë (mentions Fingon, Maglor, Maedhros, Eru and the Valar)
Warning: possibly AU but follows technical canon, grouchy old elves whining, exaggeration, fluffiness
Song: To a New Post
Words: 1,633
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
lively (adjective): briskly alert and energetic: vigorous, animated; active, intense; imparting spirit or vivacity: stimulating
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/lively
"You could use a little young blood in your life."
That was what Fingon had told him when Círdan had, at first (and sanely, he might add!) refused to house the crown prince in his home as the High King rode off to war in the north. It was absolute nonsense after all! What did an ancient elf like him--a craftsman and a scholar so concerned and entrenched in his trade that he had never felt the need to marry and procreate--need the company of a child for?
When he brought it up, his housemaid had reiterated the same train of flawed logic, much to his disconcertion. And then she had the nerve to smile at his back after he had muttered about wild young blood and stupid ideas from stupid, reckless young kings. Insubordinate woman!
The Valar had forsaken him to the whims of a young king and his even younger heir.
Ereinion had arrived a month later to uproot his existence.
And Ereinion had been a handful. Even thinking about those early days trailing after a toddling child gave him shudders of revulsion and horror. Who knew young boys were so much work?
Older boys, it seemed, were even worse.
And now, the Valar had forsaken him a second time. It seemed that Alqualondë, Menegroth and Arvarnien were not the only victims of the cursed Fëanorions.
"I understand if you do not want to associate with us, but Elros and Elrond have nothing to do with our bloody deeds. They are innocent victims. But more so, they are my children. And I want them as far away from the ensuing bloodshed as they can possibly be kept. I want... I want them happy and without worry in these dark days."
And how could he say no to that? Even to a Kinslayer. Círdan had honor. Even if those men whom he helped did not.
"Besides, I hear your current ward is lonely. Perhaps he could use some companionship. I think it would soothe my brother's heart to know Findekáno's son is well and not lonely."
Ridiculous. Círdan rolled his eyes toward the heavens, wondering if Lord Ossë was going to dump a storm over his head and laugh as he was soaked to the bone. It would be just like that maia to compound upon his suffering! He could imagine the ragged-haired creature watching him from the clouds and laughing like a maniac at how the fates had ravaged his life.
Ereinion doesn't need more help causing trouble. And I do not need two more natural disasters to trail after, picking up the wreckage. I am too old to be watching after elflings. Bad enough when there was only one brat. Now there are three.
Elros and Elrond were, indeed, bundles of trouble wrapped up into devilishly handsome, smirking packages that left all the ladies blushing and twittering in the wake of their confident swaggers. Worse still, the boys never seemed to run out of energy even as they aged into young men. No mellowing. No slowing down. It didn't matter if he got them up at the crack of dawn and made them swim up and down the beach in the freezing tide. It didn't matter if he dragged them out to the docks and set them to work lifting and hammering all afternoon in the hot son. It didn't matter if he brought them in and forced them to study well into the evening.
No, they never ran out of energy.
Adding that to Ereinion, who already pestered his guardian--incessantly poking fun at the ancient elf for childish enjoyment--and the resultant mess made the mariner want to pull out his beard in frustration.
And Círdan was old. By the time he finished his work on the docks, all he wanted was a pleasant cup of steaming tea and an evening of quiet relaxation without the sound of shattered china or of running from the above levels, a rumbling thunder spreading over his head and sending dust spinning downwards from the ceiling to land in his beverage.
Groaning at the thought and wondering how much trouble those three had gotten into while he was away at work, he turned and walked his way up the beach towards the house as gray clouds gathered overhead and Ossë's deep laughter rolled over him from the distant waves. Hopefully the entire house would not be a pile of rubble when he returned.
He wouldn't have put it past those three.
Simply put, he could not keep up with them. They were lively little sprites of mischief and destruction. If only tying them down would keep them in place for even five minutes! But he had learned the hard way with Ereinion that such a plan was futile.
Sea salt on the wind blasted back his tangled gray mane as he ascended the cliffs and approached the house, standing guard as a citadel over the broad expanse of open water. His boots echoed as he stepped onto the wooden patio and pushed open the glass doors. Inside, the dining room welcomed him, and his housekeeper appeared promptly around the corner with a broad smile and a steaming cup of tea. Thank Eru, someone is this household was still sane!
"Had a long day, milord?" she asked as she set the cup and saucer before him.
"Indeed." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off a migraine. "And the boys, how was their day?"
"They did not destroy the house, milord."
Lovely.
She must have seen his face. "Be gentle with them, milord. They are only boys. Boys who are away from their homes and miss their families. Forgive them for being a touch attention-seeking."
"Troublemakers, that is what they are," he muttered beneath his breath. He took a sip of his tea and reveled in the slight burn against his tongue and in the back of his throat. Best gulp it down before it could be subjected to impending doom by accidental exposure to wood-dust.
"That might be, but they are sweethearts nonetheless." She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "They have done you good. They have done all of us good in these times."
Her heels clicked away over the hardwood floor, leaving him in peace.
Until the inevitable thunder of footsteps overhead.
Just boys, indeed. Was I ever this troublesome and uncontrollable? He couldn't help but wonder as he stared out the window. The rain had begun pelting down on his heels, and now it was pouring. The panes rattled with millions of tiny impacts to the glass.
"Lord Círdan!"
And now his head was throbbing.
They tumbled down the stairs, the three of them, and appeared in the doorway. Elros and Elrond were shorter than his first ward by several inches, but all of them sported broad, eager grins, their eyes wide and bright with intrinsic curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. And, inevitably, they spread their smiling disease throughout the room without effort.
He would not admit that the infectious disease had his lips twitching up at the corners.
"What do you need, boys?"
"You promised you would tell us about Cuiviénen today!" Elrond, as usual, was the most excited at the prospect of learning firsthand from someone who actually could remember the Awakening of the elves and the pure, untouched shores beneath the stars in days long forgotten. A million questions would spill out of that elfling in a rush of ebullient anticipation of answered wonderings, so many that they ran together in a flood that could only be quenched with a dam of lore and anecdotes.
And Elrond devoured tales like a hungry wolf devoured sheep.
"Did I?"
"You did. Remember, I asked about it yesterday! Certainly, you must have many stories of the lands east of Ered Luin. Is it like to Beleriand? I heard there were giant deserts in the east and--"
"Sit down, child, before you fall down." And--thanks to those seemingly innocuous, thrice-be-damned younglings!--Círdan felt a chuckle rise up the back of his throat at their antics. Chairs screeched against the floor (he winced inwardly as he imagined the marks on his wooden floorboards that would need re-polishing) and the three boys were perched at the edge of their seats and waiting attentively for him to begin.
"Well?"
"Impatient," he grumbled.
But really, he couldn't summon the spite to say it even half-seriously. There was an annoying and unwanted bubble of something in his chest that he refused to think was anything but passing gas.
Except that it was mockingly warm and fuzzy. Stupid Fingon. Stupid children. Stupid housekeeper and her stupid wisdom.
So maybe she wasn't completely senile in her diagnosis. Much as he hated to say it, perhaps the lively young lads were doing him some good occasionally. When they weren't destroying his house and antiques and he surrounding havens. And maybe he hadn't been snapping and snarling like a territorial tomcat as much lately. But only when they weren't running in the house and spilling ink or painting the walls or wrecking his schematics. And perhaps he was a touch more social--with all that running around to and fro cleaning up his wards' messes--and felt a little more alive. A little more vibrant. His blood rushing as a swift creek rather than a lazy brook.
And perhaps they were a touch endearing. Sometimes. When they were quiet and still and polite like proper young adults. With proper manners and clean boots.
But he would never admit it out loud.
"Well, in the beginning I beheld the stars, and then the water..."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Perhaps it's a touch cliché, but I wanted adorable elflings being adorable and grouchy old Círdan pouting and grumbling over his quickly changing lifestyle. I know in canon Elros and Elrond are not at the havens with Ereinion, but I wanted the twins to meet Gil-Galad early on. I mean, I see a lot of stories where Gil-Galad and Elrond are very close friends (or lovers), but I don't feel that being someone's herald makes you that emotionally close to them. I felt like they needed more of a bond than that, and thus this happened. And, even if you follow canon and post-War of Wrath Elrond becomes a lore-master in Gil-Galad's court, the bond still isn't there, so...
Sorry, I'm tired and probably am semi-incoherent at this point. The song I picked was To a New Post from the Crisis Core OST (credited mostly to Takeharu Ishimoto) because it is an absolutely adorable, lively, jumpy song, one of the few that doesn't make me want to gag and rip by hair out. Actually, first thing I think of when I hear it is Zack Fair, and if you're familiar with FFVII, you know that he's the embodiment of ebullient joy and playfulness but still has an honorable, serious side and a caring, adorable side.
Thus, I thought it was perfect for this. Because it's also incredibly addictive and very infective. Every time I hear it, I smile. And that's exactly what I was going for here.
No comments:
Post a Comment