Bend in the Wind – Companion story of “To Dream”:Ch1: An Unexpected Letter

by May 26, 2004Stories

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien’s literary work. I only claim ownership of those unique characters/concepts which I have created (Nessúlë, Oloriel, Lantél, the Merendë <a href=&apos;Enya‘ target=_blank>Enyalië, etc.) and partial control in the fanfiction universe of those names/word-combinations which I have created using Tolkien’s languages.

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

“” signals a footnote
“text” signals dialogue
`text’ signals thoughts

A/N: This is a companion story of “To Dream”. While it is not necessary that you read that first, you may enjoy it and it will give you some good background on Elrohir and Nessúlë and their rather confusing friendship.

Note on Sindarin Vocabularly… For Those Who Care: I am going to change a norm that I established in my first story. It has to do with the pronoun you: “le/-l”. I learned from one source during the writing of “To Dream” that this form of you was formal, and that informally the pronoun was “chin/-ch” which I am pretty sure I heard used once in TTT the movie. I have also read one source which said that the difference between the two forms is number, not formality (chin – singular, le – plural). *shrugs* . Anyway, while I am still fuzzy on how “le” fits into all this, I am convinced of the proper use of “chin/-ch”. I kept using “le-/l” in “To Dream” because that’s what everyone is familiar with mostly. But, now that I’m starting a new story, I have decided to start using the pronouns (more) properly. You have been warned. = )

Chapter 1.) An Unexpected Letter
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets…
– Thomas Moore

June 13, 12 Fourth Age

Elrohir stretched out his cramped fingers as he stood up from the intricately carved chair and moved out from behind his father’s large desk. Having sailed into the West twelve years before, his father had left the imposing piece of furniture in Imladris, and it had fallen to Elrohir’s possession. His elder brother, Elladan, had opted to use some of their mother’s furniture, but Elrohir had always been fond of everything in his father’s study, the desk in particular. He could still remember seeking refuge underneath it when he and his brother would play hide-and-seek as children.

Moving over to the southern window, and as far away from the paperwork as the walls would allow, Elrohir breathed appreciatively of the fresh air that came wafting through the parted glass panes. He looked ruefully outside and clasped his hands behind his back.

`Just another hour or so and then it will be done,’ he muttered to himself, turning away from the window with resolve and walking back to the desk.

Elrohir was not used to these administrative duties. Since Elrond had sailed, he and his brother had taken up lordship of the small haven of Imladris. But Elladan, being newly married in Elven terms, had until now been more than willing to take on the mundane tasks of supervising if it meant spending more time at home with his wife. This left Elrohir free to take a more involved role in the community: sitting as Arbiter in the Counsel, directly overseeing the defense of the city, and even scouting at whiles with the Rangers of Anorien as he had of old. However, things had changed somewhat over the past few months.

In the fall of the previous year, Elladan and his wife Oloriel had announced that they were expecting a child. The news had been received with great joy, for it was only the second child to be born in Imladris since the birth of Elrohir’s sister, Arwen Undómiel, hundreds of years before. Elrohir had been, and still, was immensely delighted. The only drawback in his view was the amount of time which Elladan rightly desired to spend with his now visibly pregnant wife. In a moment of familial softness, Elrohir had agreed to delegate more of his duties at the borders and abroad in order to lighten Elladan’s load. As he retrieved his worn quill from where he had cast it aside, Elrohir mentally bemoaned his decision. Then, with an impeccably executed look of outward calm, he began once more to scribble a myriad of notes, requests, ordinances, and authorizations.


Almost two hours past before Elrohir put down his pen for the final time. By the look of the sun it was perhaps five o’clock. To his great relief there was just enough time for a walk in the fragrant gardens. Something about remaining inside for so many hours, even when the room was flooded with the light of the sun and there was a gentle breeze flowing through the window, made his mind uneasy. If he was ever unable to step outside before supper there was generally a good chance that he would be in an ill mood for the rest of the evening.

With significantly lighter steps, Elrohir made his way down several hallways and finally found himself in one of the side courtyards. Spring was beginning to merge with summer there, and the air was filled with a medley of smells and sounds. A broad smile spread across Elrohir’s face as he greeted several passing Elves and started to move toward one of his favorite gardens. Unfortunately, his cheerful movements were abruptly stopped when a young hawk landed unceremoniously on his shoulder.

Elrohir turned his head to eye the hawk. “I do not recognize you, youngling. Where can you have come from?”

The bird hopped from Elrohir’s shoulder and made a short ascent into the air. Turning its breast toward the Elven lord, it revealed what iswas carrying and then came back to rest on its newly acquired perch.

“Ah, you have a message for me.” Elrohir had seen the leather pouch that was strapped to the underbelly of the bird. “Well, if you are going to be a carrier, penalag {impetuous one}, you must learn the proper protocol. Take your message to the aerie on the east side of this hall. Someone will fetch the message from you and deliver it to its rightful owner; then you will find a warm place to house yourself for the night.”

Despite Elrohir’s prompting, the bird would not leave. Finally Elrohir took the bird on his hand and extracted the letter from the flat leather pouch.

“Very well then. I see that you are impudent as well as impetuous. There, I have taken the letter and see now that it was intended for me. You may take your leave, penalag.”

For a moment Elrohir thought that he had succeeded in sending the bird off, but after departing from his hand, the hawk merely took up residence once more on Elrohir’s shoulder. With a sigh, Elrohir shook his head softly and began to walk again toward the secluded garden.

Once he had arrived in the small sanctuary, Elrohir took up residence on a tall flat stone and began to inspect the letter. The seal looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Turning it over, he read the direction. It was simply:

To Elrohir Peredhel, Lord of Imladris
From his friend of years past, Nessúlë Ëarwen

Elladan’s entire body froze. He had not seen or heard directly from Nessúlë for quite some time, when she and her brother had visited Imladris three years before. He knew that she wrote to Oloriel on occasion, which is why the wax seal must have sparked his memory, but other than the few times that they had seen each other since the ending of War of the Rings fourteen years before communication between them was almost non-existent. And that was, quite frankly, the way that Elrohir preferred it.

He had been in love with Nessúlë at one time: desperately, ardently in love. And in his heart he knew that there would be no other for him. And yet, he had resigned himself to the fact she would never be his. In his mind, Nessúlë was whole and perfect as she was, unbending and careless as the wind. He had realized, soon after admitting to himself his love for her, that there was no way of capturing a lady like Nessúlë. Such maidens were like the most ethereal paintings – masterpieces of priceless worth, but forever beyond one’s reach. They were dreams and visions, never meant to be held in the warm embrace of a lover.

This was the pain that Elrohir always carried with him and which he tried to pack away beneath the other joys of life: his family, his people, the vibrant world around him. However, the few times that he had met with Nessúlë, since the War, had wreaked subtle havoc in his life. In her presence he generally managed to be cheerful and relaxed, for being near her always filled him with a sense of contentment and intoxication. But as soon as they parted, she with a careless friendly farewell and no look back, his heart would echo with emptiness.

Over the past few years Elorhir had believed that this trial was behind him. Life had been very good in Imladris. He was respected and well loved by all the people of the valley, he shared a very affectionate bond with his brother and sister-in-law, and the coming addition of a newborn into their little family circle had seemed like the crowing flower of his comfortable life. But in this one brief moment in the garden, with an audacious hawk turning a curious eye upon him, he knew that he had been fooling himself all along.

Elrohir’s hands moved mechanically as he went to open the seal. But then he paused. Perhaps it would be better not to read it. Without thought Elrohir crumpled up the missive and three it several feet away from him, burying his face in his hands.

He should have known that it would be a useless effort. In but a few short moments the hawk had swooped off his shoulder, retrieved the crumpled noted, and deposited it at Elrohir’s feet.

The Elf grunted. “Meddler.”

The hawk, cocking its head to one side, merely stared at Elrohir until he finally picked up the note and smoothed out the pages.

“I suppose you’re right,” Elrohir muttered, half to the bird and half to the arguing side of his conscious. “I can’t simply not read it. There could be important news.”

With a deep breath Elrohir began to peruse the letter. This is what he read:

11th of June, year 12 of the Fourth Age
suilad mellonen”” {greetings, my friend},

No doubt you are surprised to receive this small epistle. It has been fourteen years since I made a promise to write to you, and I am sure you despaired of my ever honoring the pledge. I don’t know why I haven’t until now. Time slips by so quickly that I sometimes wonder how mortals ever accomplish anything. I am forever purposing to do this or that, and not following through until years have slipped by.

But pardon me, I have shown my thoughtlessness once again. How do you fare? And your family, are they well? I have heard that the lady and other lord of Imladris are expecting a child. Oloriel and Elladan must be so thrilled. It is a good omen in these waning times. (We are all still in the glow here over Írima’s child, who grows daily in spirit and wit, despite how terribly we spoil her). Please convey to your brother and sister-in-law my warmest wishes for an uneventful delivery.

Now that I have such pleasantries out of the way, perhaps you are wondering why I have chosen to write at this time. I must confess, rather shamefacedly, that it was mostly a selfish impulse. As you may have heard, my brother has recently taken a bride. This circumstance has thrown my comfortable little world into confusion. Lantél and I have always shared a deep bond and we have been each other’s closest companions these past years. (I gave up being a seamstress for good and joined the Homeguard. I am in Lantél’s division). But now that he is monopolized by his wife, a kind sweet little maid, I find I must now stand on my own.

Now mind you, I am not growing soft in my old age. I have always found independence invigorating, and I suppose I shall take to my new situation quite well by and by. But now that my life has changed so drastically I find myself thinking more and more of friends and places abroad. Your sister-in-law once told me that I do not have the wanderlust, but I do wonder if I am acquiring it. For I am most eager to hear of other places, and am growing equally eager to see them.

So do write to me, mellon, and tell me how you all have been. It will provide some amusement I am sure, as well as a much-needed distraction. And, if your account lives up to these expectations, I may even deign to visit you all again when my feet start to roam. (I hope you hear the jest in my pompous words).

In all seriousness, though, I have thought of journeying to Arnor, to see the restoration which King Elessar has wrought in Annuminas*. And since I will perhaps be abroad, there seems nothing for it but to enter your cloven sanctuary for a time. It has been too long since we last spoke. I look forward to renewing our friendship.

teithonnen na boronemel {written with a faithful heart},

mellonech {your friend} ,


Postscript: I have told Bainsúl to carry back your reply. He would be honored by your commission for he is young and eager to please.

Elrohir sat for some time reading and rereading the letter. He was unsure of what to feel at that moment. Through the casual lines he could almost hear her voice and he was both comforted and agitated by the sensation.

Finally, the last lines of the letter finally registered in Elrohir’s mind and he looked up to search for the bird. He smiled wryly. Apparently the young hawk had finally become tired of his watch and flown away.

`Well, shall you carry a letter for me, Bainsúl?’ Elrohir questioned in his mind. `Do I want you to?’

The Elf shook his head and began to walk toward the feasting hall. Unconsciously he crumpled the letter once more in his firm grasp. Something told him that replying to the letter could be dangerous, but a persistent tug in his heart told him that, folly or not, he would find himself with a quill in hand before the day was done.


1. The Elves didn’t really use capitalization much.
2. Annuminas – the original capital of the Northern Kingdom (Arnor). Restored by Aragorn, who dwelled there for a time with Arwen in 15 F.A.

Things to Know:

Nessúlë Ëarwen: “young spirit” “sea maiden”
– A relatively young she-Elf, originally from Mithlond.
Lantél: “falling star”
Bainsúl: “fair wind”

1. Pen-alag (PEN/ah-lahg): “one(someone)-impetuous”

2. Suilad mellon-en (SOO-il-ad MELL-oh-nen): “greetings friend-my”

3. Teithonnen na boron-emel (tay-THO-nen NAH bohr-OHN-m-l): “written with steadfast heart”
teitho=write–>teithont=he wrote (3rd person past tense)–>teithonnen=written (passive paticiple)
emel=heart, feelings

4. mellon-ech (MEL-oh-nehk): “friend your”

I know it’s a short chapter for me, but I’m still warming up on this story. I’m starting a job tomorrow, so chapters may continue being short, though I hope to update regularly.


Submit a Comment

Found in Home 5 Reading Room 5 Stories 5 Bend in the Wind – Companion story of “To Dream”:Ch1: An Unexpected Letter

You may also like…

The Missing Link Chapter 3: Captive

We return to the forests again. Our hobbit friend has lost all faith and finds the true meaning of apathy by the end of this chapter. He is taken captive by a band of elves and one human. This chapter suggests that some of his past will be revealed soon.

read more

The Missing Link Chapter 2: Ivy

We leave the fields and forsets and earth whatsoever to the sea, where a broken abused halfling sails. We hear a little about her past from her recalled memories that she remembers during her turn at lookout. Please comment again, and if you find ANY FAULT AT ALL please tell me. Thank you! 🙂

read more