Now that people have finally asked their fill and inquired all that can possible be inquired, now that peace settles over the scene like a mantle, Olwë can see tension leaving his brother. He watches Elwë closely, takes in for the first time how elaborately his silver hair is braided, and how he is dressed in soft fabrics, the likes of which Olwë has not seen before. How, he wonders, have they been made, what spindle can spin a thread so delicate, what loom can weave linen so even and flawless? On Elwë brow gleams a silver circlet, but by far the most remarkable change is the light that now shines in his brother’s grey eyes, fainter than that within Lord Oromë’s eyes but still distinctive enough. With one thing and another, his brother looks like a stranger.
But then Elwë’s gaze meets his, and he smiles, a very tired smile as it is, and Olwë find’s himself relax. Under all that strange new brightness, this is still his brother, and as soon as this truly registers with Olwë, he feels bad about the estrangement he felt. Elmo clearly has had no such feelings, seeing how he flung himself at Elwë the moment he saw him, and did not let go until sleep overwhelmed him. Olwë glances at his younger brother, asleep by the fire, then gestures to Elwë to sit down, while he busies himself with ladling cider into a clay vessel, then adding two hot stones from the fire to the liquid to warm it.
“Welcome back, brother.” he says with a little bow, his fingers meeting Elwë’s on the rapidly warming clay.
Elwë mumbles his thanks, then lifts the cup to his lips and drinks thirstily.
“That is not meant to quell your thirst.” Olwë chuckles, and Elwë grins guiltily, too.
“But the warm drink is so comforting” he tries with a wink “And very welcome.”
Still chortling, Olwë sits down on the ground opposite Elwë, trying to decide whether he would actually make fun of his brother should the latter end up drunk on the very eve of his return. He decides against it. After all, who can blame Elwë to be grateful for some nourishment after a long journey?
“So, how is Aman? Did you like it?”
There is a longing in Elwë’s eyes that Olwë has never seen there before, and is not altogether sure he likes.
“Wonderful. You cannot imagine. There is light, always, given to the land by two trees. One gleams golden, the other silver, and twice a day, their lights mingle when one goes to sleep and the other awakens. Ai Olwë, ‘tis a beauty beyond all I ever saw.”
“Always? But… does one not grow weary of the light. Do you not yearn for darkness after a while.”
“For the stars, yes. But they shine still, clear and bright where the light of the trees does not reach. Believe me, I grieved, when I understood that there would not be darkness as it is here, but… more important than the light, there is safety and bliss. No evil creatures haunt the woods there, no shadow. Children will be able to grow up there who know no hardship, no danger nor loss. And for that, missing the starlight sometimes seems like a small price.”
Olwë nods. He cannot imagine he will ever not mourn the quiet of the starlight, but there is no denying the truth behind Elwë’s words.
“I want this for all of us,” Elwë goes on in a whisper “But most of all I want to know that you are safe, you and Elmo. He has been through enough.”
Elwë reaches out to stroke Elmo’s untidy hair, his fingers picking the mattered strands apart.
“He would not let me comb nor braid it. Not for three years. I did what I could, but he insisted that none but you touch his hair. I fear there will be nothing but to cut it.”
“We will see” Elwë replies softly, and Olwë notes with relief that there is nothing accusatory in his tone “I shall try my best with it tomorrow.”
“Tell me of the other Valar, then.” Olwë urges, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“They are kind, and wise, and so beautiful and skilful. And they would teach us, too.”
“So you say we should go?”
“I do. I really do. Though I doubt that all will be of like mind.”
There is no disagreeing with Elwë there. The Quendi are seldom on one mind as it is.
“Look, I have something for you.”
Elwë reaches to the bundle he has carried his possessions in, and hands Olwë what looked like a folded blanket.
“Yes. A gift, and a request.”
“Ai, no gift then, but a bribe. Very well. I would have the request first.”
“And I would have you receive the gift first, as it truly is a gift, regardless of your answer. Go on, open it.”
Olwë did as bidden, still shooting his brother suspiciously looks. All doubts vanish, however, as he unrolls the cloak he has been given, green as far as he can see, with silver embroideries glimmering in the firelight.
“For me? Are you serious? These are much more your colours, and besides, this is a regal garment indeed. Fit for a king, not his little brother.”
“It is fitting for a leader of his people, for a king’s most trusted lord. And besides, I am no more king than you at the moment. I have not been crowned, nor will I be, before we reach the end of our journey. I need your help, Olwë. I cannot lead the Nelyar alone. Our people are too numerous, and too hesitant. Without you, I must surely fail. And for so great a favour, this is but a humble repayment.”
“Ai Elwë. Much as I understand your plight, this is not how it works. Leadership was given to you, not me.”
“No, I give this mantle with leave from the Lady Vairë. She made it for me, and I begged to be allowed to carry it to you, and keep my own mantle. I expected scorn, yet was met only with understanding and approval.”
“So you would share power? You would pass over Lord Enel’s laws?”
“Yes. As you said, I will be king, and what is a king if he cannot make his own rules. I seek no power over the wills of others, nor personal glory in this quest, but our people’s safe passage to the West. And that can only be achieved if we work together.”
The offer is tempting. Olwë has never been exactly jealous of Elwë, not outright. But it ever irked him to see Elwë so reluctant to be raised as the prince, when he himself would have much liked to get that chance to prove himself. Still there are doubts in his mind that do not allow for consent yet.
“But the Valar do not know me. How can they put such trust in me?”
“They trust my judgement. And I happen to trust you blindly. More, indeed, than I trust myself.”
A lump has grown in Olwë’s throat. There is no doubting Elwë’s sincerity, and his words move him deeply. He leans over, pressing his brow against Elwë’s. Only now does he really notice how badly he has missed him.
“As I trust you. If you say that Aman in the place for us to be, then I believe you, and shall lead half of our people there to the best of my ability.”
In response, Elwë wraps his arms around him, and they linger for a long time in that embrace, ere Elwë pulls the mantle over Olwë’s shoulders. It is warm, yet light. A truly wonderful gift.
“Are you sure you do want to keep it for yourself? Your own cloak is hardly… well. It is a fisherman’s mantle, not a king’s.”
“But is my own, and I will keep it.”
Elmo stirs sleepily, roused perhaps by their movement. Elwë reaches out to comfort him, and Elmo promptly seizes Elwë’s arm with both hands and feet, clinging tightly to their brother, which makes Olwë laugh in earnest.
“He is afraid you’ll disappear again.”
“I know.” Elwë says ruefully, lying down beside Elmo. “But I will not. I will never leave you again.”
And yet, brother, you have left us again.
Olwë’s heart aches, aches more with every passing moment. Already, they coastline is but a silver band against the dark waters, and he is alone. More alone than he has ever been.
He thinks of Nowë, who wanted to come to Valinor so desperately. Why did he have to choose this day to vanish, just like Elwë vanished? Has he only travelled far in search of his cousin, or has he indeed met the same fate? Olwë knows it not, and the grief is a physical pain.
And he thinks of Elmo, who would not be swayed in his decision, who would not leave Elwë behind, would not come with Olwë to Aman even though there is no more Elwë to be left behind. Or so Olwë tells himself. He cannot come to any other conclusion. Elwë would never leave them without notice, not by his own free will. And as they have found no trace of him, nor his body, this leaves only one reason for his disappearance- the ancient shadow has got hold of him. Oh, how Olwë hopes that his brother died by a swift sword strike or arrow. he cannot bear the idea of Elwë being held captive, of him being tortured and mutilated
Worst of all, he has failed his brother, whichever way he looks at it. His brother, who showed such faith in him. If Elmo is right and Elwë is still alive there somewhere against all odds, then Olwë has abandoned him. A usurper of the throne, a traitor. And if Elmo is wrong and Olwë right, then Olwë has failed even more terribly. Was it not Elwë’s most ardent desire to ensure that Elmo can live in peace? Olwë owes him that, if nothing else. And yet he has left Elmo behind.
All of a sudden, his mantle feels heavy on his shoulders.
@tolkiensiblingsweek this is a mixture of multiple prompts and days and will likely still be edited as it’s past 3am here and my brain not braining anymore.
