Posted: September 2004
Title: The Bitter Sweet Vintages of
Time
Author: Iamme
Type: FPGen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Belongs to
Tolkien not me.
Author's Notes: This story is for
Leann.
*****
Lord Elrond walked through the door of the wine
cellar and down the stairs in to the cool darkness illuminated by the small vial
in his hand. Erestor had offered to do this for him, knowing what his lord liked
but Elrond had a different purpose for each vintage he would take with him, one
of the few remnants of Imladris he would take on the long journey to
Valinor.
The elf lord made his way, running his hands
lovingly over each date. He looked at each barrel and bottle, every year
bringing a memory to mind. Elrond stopped at a bottle from less than a hundred
years before, it was the year Estel had come to live with him, became like a son
almost. Such bittersweet memories for even back then, he had
known the young one would grow up and eventually pass out of his life as so many
had and yet he had not thought that he would take his beloved Evenstar with him.
All through the years as he continued to travel back, memories of
friends, some gone and some still close by, came to him. One of those friends
silently watched from the top of the stairs waiting for when he would be needed
as he had for most of the elf’s life. Erestor knew the joy and pain for he had
done something quite similar though the Lord of Imladris did not know it. It
might take all night for Elrond to complete his task but when it was over, when
he was done, he would need a friend to help him through one last lonely night in
his land that was soon to pass from him forever as if they had never existed.
Soon they would be forgotten except in legends and fairytales and soon those
would fade as the leaves of the trees with the coming of winter.
Elrond came to the year he and Celebrian were gifted with Arwen and the fear
rose in him once more of how to tell her that their daughter was gone from them
forever, just as Eros had been lost to him so many many years ago. More than
once, Elrond had asked the Valar why, why they had chosen him to suffer so and
their answer was often silence. Elrond shook his head and wiped away the tear
that fell down his cheek. “My, it was dusty in the wine cellar,” he though as he
tried to deny his tears to himself. On he went back, back through his life to a
year he wish he could forget another bittersweet memory. The year Celebrian had
been taken by orcs, she would live but he was not sure she would still be his
when he reached the far shores. So unsure of how she would handle the news that
all of their children would be lost to them forever.
Elrond continued
over the next few hours working his way back through time, this time he smiled
as he remembered the day his sons were born. Elladan had been so quiet when he
was born that they feared him dead despite his large size and just the opposite
for Elrohir. The younger was so small that had he been completely human, he
probably would have died but he was loud and made his presence known to
everyone. He had known since the day their mother had sailed and they rode off
to slay every orc on Arda that they would not sail. Those orcs had lost their
lives and destroyed his in one brutal moment of time. Never would his life be
the same and were it not for a small amount of hope that lived in him that
someone would be there waiting for him would he be able to go on.
It was
a few more hours before Elrond finally ran his hand over the year that he had
struggled to forget, the year Gil- Galad had died. He had never drank of this
wine, knowing it would be bitter. This one would not go with him, it represented
too muchpain in his life, blood of his friends and family that
had been spilled. Elrond felt the tears coming and he could not fight them but
it was the fist that shattered the wood, spilling the wine that flowed like so
much blood just as it had flowed back then the blood of his memories soaking in
to the floor of the Last Homely House. Elrond felt himself collapse into the red
mud and the scream came. When he though he could take no more,
he was pulled back against the elf that had been advising the son of Earendil
since he was barely past his majority. Erestor pulled his lord against him,
holding him as he cried in to his tunic. Erestor knew how Elrond felt for he
felt the same way. He had helped to raise Elrond’ s children,
he had stood by the elf when he had married Celebrian and he had watched as his
friend’s world fell apart. He had no real comfort to offer his friend, no
reassurances that his children would be there when he woke or that his wife
would be the same woman or even that Gil- Galad would be there waiting. Instead,
he lifted the elf lord and carried him to his bathing chambers and sent a
servant after clothing. He helped Elrond out of his clothing as if he had been
an elfling and removed his own robes but left his leggings on as he climbed in
to the water and bathed the Lord of Imladris before dressing him in his
nightgown and carried him to his chambers and tucked him into bed, singing him
to sleep. It was not until he was sure that Elrond was deep into reverie that he
let his own tears fall and gentle arms engulfed him as Glorfindel came and
lifted him and held him tightly “Rest, Meleth. I will watch over you both for my
duty is not yet done.” Erestor looked up at the Golden Elf Lord and he could see
the sorrow there and yet the peace that he felt, and Erestor knew that
eventually they would all come to peace with it and that was enough for now.
*****
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