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Elrond Peredhel, Daycare for Durins

2. Mirror

The plummeting waters were loud, drowning out almost all other sounds. Elrond could see his friend, and his friend’s wife, on one of the lower walkways. Almost he could read the conversation on their lips. But there was no time for that.

His head spun from side to side as he tried to keep an eye (two eyes, as often as possible) on his young charges. They were passing one of the great cliffside terraced gardens of Khazad-dûm, this one a mix of fruit trees and flowers. Gamli and Gerda were running between the tree trunks, arms raised, trying to reach fruits on the lowest branches. The terraces were narrow and steep, and in places the trees overhung the torrents descending from the slopes of the mountain, which flung themselves relentlessly into the depths where the sound of giant wheels turning provided a bass note to the rush of waters.

He winced as Gerda, as always the more daring of the siblings, swung round a tree on the very edge of the drop, returning to solid ground with a red-blushed apple in her hand. With a shout she tossed it to Gamli, before repeating the trick. Elrond flinched, his shoulders hunching, forcing them back down into a relaxed stance as she returned safely to his side.

“Shall we go?” he asked mildly, no hint of tension in his carefully controlled voice.

She grinned at him. “Lead on,” she said, imperiously.

A little further on the walkway descended into a tunnel and Elrond breathed a sigh of relief. Gerda’s apple core, chewed down to a nub, sailed past his ear and disappeared down the waterfall they had just passed. Gamli passed his up to Elrond, unbitten. Elrond, knowing what was required, carefully nibbled the peel off the apple and passed it back. The youngster was teething, back molars coming through, and apple peel made them sore. The cool pulp of the fruit was a soothing relief for hot gums.

Elrond supposed he was getting actual nutrition from the peel. The Noldor/Maia part of his inheritance meant he had little need for sustenance, although truth be told he enjoyed the pleasures of the table. However, a glass or two of a fine red were more to his taste than the fibrous bits of an apple.

The tunnel led deeper underground, leaving the stone-cut dwellings and workshops of the Naugrim behind. It narrowed and steepened, a series of ridges cutting across the width of the passage providing a resistance to slipping. Too shallow to be called stairs, they emphasised the steepness of their descent. Gerda, unable to resist taking the lead, strutted self-importantly down the slope.

“Where are you leading us, Gerda?” She’d told him already, but it did no harm to remind her that he did not know these passages. He suspected they were doing something Disa might not entirely approve, even though she had told him herself that the children might go anywhere they wished, “So long as you are with them, dearie.” He began to wish Gerda’s mother had applied some limits to her daughter’s explorations, or at least given him more guidance.

“We’re nearly there.”

Elrond trailed one hand along the wall, his long fingers detecting patterns carved into the rock, some images and the angular alphabet of Khuzdul. Almost he could read the words, but the carvings were smoothed with age and he dared not stop. Gamli gripped his other hand tightly, using the elf’s greater weight as a counterbalance against the pull of gravity.

“I don’t like it here,” he said. No reply came from Gerda. “I said…”

I know. You don’t have to do it. Mother said I could though.” Gerda’s voice was firm, with a hint of defiance. Elrond wondered suddenly just what exactly Disa’s words had been.
The tunnel debouched into a small windowless cavern, lit by a pale flickering light. There was no obvious source for the light, but as they entered he saw that it emanated from a large shallow dish of coppery metal placed on the floor in the centre of the room. To one side of the great bowl was a silver flagon, and beside it a steady thread of liquid flowed down the wall and disappeared into a crevice at the base of the rock.

To the left of the entrance a door-like aperture suggested a further space beyond. Elrond caught the reflection of light in a pair of dark eyes as the chamber’s occupant slid further back from the light. So, the place had a guardian. And a distinctly numinous air.

Gerda lifted the flagon, steadying it with both hands as she filled it at the rockface. Carefully she poured the liquid into the basin, bringing the gleaming meniscus of its surface to the very brim of the receptacle. Presumably that was water, though it had strange properties, seeming to flow as slowly as honey. Or perhaps it was time itself that had slowed, as the last droplets clung to the spout of the ewer and at last released themselves into the bowl.

Gerda stood, a small stocky determined figure, staring into the pool. Gamli clutched at Elrond’s hand, keeping him in place near the entrance. Silence filled the flickering darkness until, at last, Gerda breathed audibly and stepped away. When she turned, Elrond could see her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Your turn,” she said roughly to her brother, the hoarse timbre of her voice betraying an undeclared emotion that she was holding in check.

“No.”

“Don’t be afraid. It’s our birthright.”

Gamli let go of Elrond’s hand and drew himself up to his full height. Darker and more slender than his sister, resembling his mother as much as Gerda was the spit of their red-headed father, he revealed an unexpected maturity as he met her eye.

“No. I will know when it is time. It is not time yet.” He took Elrond’s hand and gently pushed him forward. “You should look. The mirror shares a kinship with elves as well as my people.”

Princely in bearing, revealing suddenly a glimpse of the formidable dwarf he would one day become, Gamli stepped back and drew his sister to him. Elrond picked up the ewer, its smooth surface cool in his hands, and filled it at the wall. The volume in the bowl had settled. There was no sign of where the added liquid had gone to, and Elrond filled it again to the brim, returning the pitcher to its place by the wall, and stood gazing at the smooth glowing circle of the captive pool.

Slowly, lights began to move in the water, revealing a surprising depth. The lights shimmered, clearing to a vision: a tall, dark-haired, gold-clad elf, back turned but unmistakeably his lord, High King Gil-Galad. Elrond peered down as the figure moved, but before he could see its face it was lost in a wash of flame, licking across the surface of the pool.

Now the waters showed another: an elf-woman, slender and fair. For a moment he thought it was Galadriel, but this person was much fairer, almost white-haired, and as she turned to face him he realised he had never seen her before in his life. She smiled, and held out a hand towards him, and he felt his heartrate increase, a wholly unintentional response. Her lips opened and although there was no sound they clearly – to his elf eyes unmistakeably – formed the syllables of his name.
She bent, as though in sudden pain, and he felt an unbearable anguish take hold of him; an agony of soul and heart as much as of body. He moaned, bowing over the bowl, closer to the vision. Wisps of steam were rising from the surface.

“Do not touch the water!”

A strong hand grasped his and drew him aside. As he stumbled back he realised that an old, old dwarf woman had emerged from the alcove beside the doorway. The guardian gripped him with surprising strength and guided him away.

Elrond panted, slow to realise that the pain he had experienced had been of the mind only, dissipating with the mists above the great bowl. He gaped at her, caught in webs of confusion, as she spoke to him again. “The mirror shows what has been, and also what has not yet come to pass.” The dwarf’s eyes were deep wells of compassion. “I cannot tell what it is you saw. But perhaps it will come to have meaning for you, in time.”

She led him to the doorway and placed the children’s hands in his. One wrinkled hand rested on Gerda’s head, and the other upon Gamli’s. “Little sister, you have been brave.” The tone was not entirely approving. “You have also been reckless. You should not return here until you have learned to take more care for yourself. I hope you have learned wisdom this day.”

Gerda nodded, clinging to Elrond’s hand. He sensed she had experienced more than she had bargained for, and tightened his fingers reassuringly on hers. The crone turned to Gamli.

“Thou has wisdom aplenty, young lordling. Thou may’st return at will. The mirror will know ye.”

Gamli nodded, standing proudly as he took in the unexpected formality of the words. “I thank you, Grandmother,” he said.

She turned that dark glance on Elrond once more, and her eye was compassionate. “Elf child. Human child,” she said, her voice a whisper that followed them up the passage, back into the light. “For thee a long road, a dark road, a road of pain. Great joy is due you, but the price will be high.”

The children walked out into the great open expanse of the mountain stronghold, but he slowed his steps, his vision doubling as he walked on. Deep in the innermost sanctuary of his mind he stood there still, in the dark, bending his slender form over hers, giving her the kiss of kinship as he bowed acquiescence to her words.

“Child of earth, of water, of light. One day I will call you, in a time of great need, to come to the depths of the mountain and bear away the mirror. Will you do it, Star Child? Will you fly into my darkness and take this light away into safety. Say you will come!”

I will come…

The answer echoed in the depths of his soul. He felt it write itself into his destiny.

“Yes. I will come.”