Title: Elladan in Elvenhome
Theme: 2009 Yule Fic Exchange
Request: "I would like... elves, or valar or maiar. No Hobbits, no Dwarves, no Men. ...any age. From Valar years to Fourth Age. Any location... I'd like the same in my story. I love Elladan, Fingon, Caranthir, Feanor. I follow Home regarding Gil-galad, so he is not Fingon's son. I would like a fic about a normal day in their lives. Any age."
Summary: Only Elladan and Olórin deigned to speak to my muse of the requested characters. I had a hard time thinking of a plot that showed a "normal" day in Elladan's life that wouldn't be boring and didn't require interaction with Men, Dwarves or Hobbits--that left setting it in Imladris out; and then, as the deadline for this story loomed, I decided that I'd have to write about an exceptional day instead. I hope that you like this, Silver Trails. Happy Yule!
Title: Elladan in Elvenhome (a drabble series - 10 drabbles of exactly 100 words each)
Recipient: Silver Trails
"Left it rather late, haven't you?"
Elladan, distracted by the activity on the quay about him as the grey ship was unloaded, started and whirled, his hand reaching for the sword that no longer hung at his side. His eyes widened as he found himself face to face with a Maia clad in the blue and silver livery of Lord Manwë. He didn't recognize the ageless face, but the eyes that twinkled at him--. "Gandalf!" he gasped.
"Here, I'm Olórin."
Elladan, secretly relieved for a touch of the familiar in this strange new land, smirked. "Better late than never!"
The guesthouse was tucked away from the main thoroughfares of the city of Avallónë, Elladan discovered, set in a parkland with trees and flowers carefully arranged to emphasize the serenity and peace of the Blessed Land.
It was beautiful, but it was stifling. He'd gone to his bedroom pleading tiredness, overwhelmed by his rejoicing parents' attentions.
"Where are you going?" Elrohir asked, sitting up with a yawn.
Elladan shrugged on his cloak. "Out. Anywhere. Before Ada and Naneth smother us again."
Elrohir glanced at the closed bedroom door then at the stars beyond the window. "Let me grab my cloak."
The twins paused just outside the guesthouse's gate. "Which way do you want to go?" Elrohir deferred to the elder twin.
Elladan looked westward towards the foothills beyond the small estates that lined the boulevard, then back towards the harbor. "It wouldn't be fair to the horses to not let them get their land legs after so long at sea, so I guess we'll explore the city."
Before Elrohir could respond, they heard the sound of regular tapping behind them and turned.
Grey cloaked, bearded, bushy-browed, and leaning on a staff, Olórin smiled at them.
"Perhaps you'd like a guide?"
"I'd expected you'd still be talking with your Naneth, after so many centuries." Olórin walked between the twins, puffing on his pipe.
Elladan sighed. "I was so glad to see her and Adar waiting for us, but last night; it was like I couldn't even breathe without them being right on top of me."
Elrohir nodded. "I guess we've been on our own too long. All those people..." He trailed off.
"I'll share something with you, young ones. When they came here, they felt the same way you do," Olórin nodded towards a side street. "Let me show you something."
The narrow road twisted and turned, and they passed between darkened houses up a gentle rise to a small walled garden that overlooked the city and the sea beyond.
Elladan leaned his hands on the waist-high stone wall and looked up at the expanse of stars glittering above before turning back to Olórin. "Nice view."
The Maia shook his head and pointed his pipestem towards the lightening horizon. "Look there."
Elladan focused where the deep blue-black sky paled and a brilliant star gleamed. He gasped as it began to swiftly grow in size and brilliance.
"Vingilot returns to her haven."
Eyes dazzled from the brilliant flare of the Silmaril, Elladan looked to where the sky met the sea, and, for a moment, he thought he saw verdant misty shores and grey cliffs topped by slender towers--the Grey Havens?
Then the image was gone as the Vingilot swept down to the ocean's surface, the Silmaril's light making the great spray of water from where the prow plowed through the waves shine like diamonds.
He stared at Olórin, astonished. "I saw... was that back home?"
The wizard merely said. "Let's get down to the harbor to meet him, shall we?"
The Maia's reaction to Elladan's question made him begin to doubt what he'd seen as the trio reached the quays. The fisher-folk, preparing their ships for the turn of the tide, paused in their tasks to stare, astonished, as the shining vessel swept through the mouth of the harbour. As one, the gulls rose from their perches on ledges and pilings to swoop and dive welcome about the Vingilot's mast.
The vessel drew near to the end of the pier where Olórin led the twins.
Elladan gaped at his grandfather as Eärendil threw him the end of the mooring rope.
A dockworker raced up and relieved Elladan of the shimmering rope, looping it tightly about a mooring cleat, while another shoved a fender between the stone edge of the pier and the Vingilot's hull of elvenglass.
Awe gave way to excitement as Eärendil vaulted over the gunwale to land lightly on the pier between Elladan and Elrohir, and the elder twin found himself dragged into a diamond-dusted embrace. Strands of blond hair tangled with ebon locks in the salty breeze.
"I've waited so long for this," the Mariner whispered in Elladan's ear. "I hoped that you would choose to come."
Elladan found himself held at arms length while his grandfather raked him from head to toe and back again with sea-grey eyes that sparkled as brightly as the Silmaril bound upon his brow with delight, before being dragged back into Eärendil's embrace. "You look just like your father. Both of you do!"
Looping an arm across Elladan's shoulders, and the other across Elrohir's, Eärendil headed along the pier for the shore. "I'm so glad that you chose your father's path. Are you coming with us, Olórin?"
Olórin, still in Gandalf's guise, joined them, and said, "I wouldn't miss it."
Seated next to Eärendil, a cup of pale, sparkling wine in his hand, Elladan laughed at a jest Olórin made. As he looked around the garden, he wondered that he'd wanted so badly to escape earlier that day. Here was everything he'd yearned for, everything that had drawn him west in the end.
Elrond sprawled beneath a trellis entwined with climbing roses, Celebrian leaning against his side, her sketchbook on her lap. Elrohir perched on the edge of the fountain, fingers teasing the goldfish therein.
As his grandmother, Elwing, lovingly scolded her husband, he realized that he was finally home.