1 Shadowed Past, Tale of the Last Dragon…(well, half-dragon anyway)
By: Kalan Gildae Dragonson Sadaya
1.1 The Council of Lord Elrond, Rivendell
"I will take it!" a small voice called out over the din of the other's arguments. "I will take the Ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way," Frodo Baggins took the One Ring in his small hand. Gandalf the Gray turned to the halfling, his love for the hobbit shown in his eyes.
"I will guide you, and help you carry this burden for as long as it is yours to bear," Frodo nodded his thanks to his old friend. One by one, others stood to join the first two. Strider the ranger, now revealed as Aragorn son of Arathorn heir to the throne of Gondor vowed to protect Frodo. Along with Boromir, the eldest son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor was Legolas son of King Thranduil of the Mirkwood elves and Gimli son of Gloin of the dwarves. Also joining Frodo on his quest was his friends from the Shire: Samwise, or "Sam" Gamgee, Meriadoc "Merry" Brandybuck, and Peregrin "Pippin" Took.
Lord Elrond looked upon the group, a rag-tag bunch of unlikely heroes thrown together by fate. It was then his sensitive ears picked up a sound of flapping wings, and a familiar presence touched his mind.
"Woah, hold on, I'm coming," a voice called out, not far off. Light feet running, a gasp and groan of pain. Elrond grimaced, knowing all to well what the pain was, but he said nothing.
Aragorn and Boromir had drawn their swords and now held them ready. But all blinked in surprise as a young man, actually more like a teenager strode into the council area.
He was actually quite small for a human, no more than five and a half feet tall. Dressed in plain black pants and black leather boots that came to mid-calf. On top he wore a distinctly elven-made shirt, black with gray weaving and embroidery. Also he wore a long gray cloak, it seemed that it had been hastily put on because it was hanging unevenly over one shoulder and the boy was still clasping it at the neck. He had shoulder length black hair, falling in messy waves, the wind blowing it into his eyes. His eyes! Such a strange color they were – silver. Frodo felt like he was drowning in those eyes, he could feel a secret fire lurking just behind the cool silver. The youth blinked, breaking the spell and nodded to the other council members before turning to Elrond.
"Sorry I'm late, there was a bit of trouble along the northern border." He smiled at the elf-lord, who did the same, as if sharing a private joke.
"I trust all is well?" Elrond asked, the other nodded.
"Of course," he said nonchalantly, then paused when Elrond gave him a strange look, "What? You have absolutely no faith in me, you know that?" he threw his hands up in mock exasperation. Elrond laughed.
"Of course I have faith in you, Kalan, I just hope you are not taking unnecessary risks," he smiled warmly. Kalan, so the boy was called smile in return and nodded. Elrond turned to face the counsel once more.
"My friends, may I introduce Kalan Gildae[1] Sadaya, Elvellon (elf- friend) of many years," Kalan nodded to each person, his strange eyes lingering on Frodo then came to rest upon the wizard. He grinned.
"Gandalf the Gray, you old charlatan! Still corrupting our youth, I see?" he laughed, indicating the hobbits. Gandalf smiled and strode forward to clasp arms with the lad. He then pulled him into a tight embrace. After a few seconds the parted, and Gandalf gave the boy a good look over.
"And you, you old myth, what's this I hear about you up north?" he asked with a sly smile. Kalan just shrugged.
"The villagers were having trouble with some goblin raids, I decided to make an end of it," he answered, then turned away from Gandalf to look over the rest of the group. "A scraggly bunch this is," he turned back to Elrond, "Slim pickings, eh, Pointy-Ears?" he cocked on fine eyebrow at the elf-lord. But before Elrond could respond, a fuming Legolas stepped forward.
"Speak with some respect to the Lord of Rivendell!" he said, a threatening tone in his voice. Kalan turned to him, amusement sparkling in the silvery depths of his eyes.
"My friend elf, Legolas, isn't it? I have never in my life called him 'lord', nor have I ever spoken to anyone with respect. But never have I ever insulted him with malice in my heart," Legolas said nothing more, but did not move back. Elrond placed a hand on the other elf's shoulder.
"It is true, Legolas, he meant no harm, only a small jest, am I correct you annoying, dim-witted child?" he smirked at Kalan who tried his best to cover a laugh at the look on Legolas' face. Never had the prince heard Lord Elrond speak to someone like that. But it was clear that the two were only joking with each other and that calmed his temper. He nodded and stepped back to where he previously stood.
~I am guessing you want me to go with them on this quest? ~ a voice asked inside Elrond's head. He mentally nodded.
~Yes, they need you if they are to succeed. The Ring must be destroyed, or all of Middle-earth shall be covered in a second darkness, ~ he answered then, he 'saw' a frown.
~You know I hate darkness, ~ a pause, then, ~Very well, it seems I have no other choice. You and Gandalf haven't told them anything about me, have you? ~ Elrond 'shook' his 'head'. ~Good, I don't want them knowing anything too soon, they would not understand. I will go, I will make sure the Ring is destroyed. ~ Then both he and Kalan turned their attentions back to the counsel. The mental conversation had only lasted a few seconds, so no one seemed to notice.
"Kalan will be joining you on this quest. He is a trusted friend and beneficial ally," declared Elrond. Boromir shook his head and stepped forward.
"He is naught but a boy," he countered, "He would only get himself or all of us killed." Then, turning to Kalan, "Go back to your mother, child," and turned away. But something dangerous flashed in Kalan's silver eyes. He grabbed the man's arm, turning him as if he were the child.
"My mother is dead, Boromir, do not speak of her to me," he said in a low, deceptively calm voice, "And if it is my skill and experience that worries you, I have had more battles than you could have in five lifetimes," he released the man and turned away. Boromir opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the lad, who did not even turn around. "Just leave it at that," was all he said and he walked over to a winding stone pillar and leaned against it. His silver eyes were no longer sparkling, but dull and sad.
"Time is against us, you shall leave tomorrow at first light," said Elrond as he looked upon the group. "If you are loyal and strong hearted, you will succeed. You shall be called the Fellowship of the Ring," he declared.
Frodo looked at the Ring he held in his hand. There were nine other people to help him surely they must succeed. He looked up and over to the shadows where Kalan stood, he saw the boy nod then turn away, disappearing into the halls of Rivendell.
* * *
That night, Lord Elrond held a feast in the Fellowship's honor. Sam, Merry and Pippin were amazed by all the different types of food, still in awe of everything in Rivendell. Aragorn spoke long with Elrond and Gandalf, but the others, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli stayed to themselves and their own kind. Frodo looked around, hoping to see Kalan at the party. But the youth was nowhere to be seen. Something about the dark- haired lad confused and mesmerized the hobbit. He was young, probably no older than eighteen years, yet he had said to Boromir, that he had fought more battles than the man could in five lifetimes! It just didn't make sense.
When those eyes had rested their unearthly gaze upon him, he felt a strange…something, in his heart. A great power, something old and definitely something Frodo did not wand as an enemy. And when Boromir mentioned the boy's mother, that power changed, to something dark, angry and sad. There was more to this boy, and Frodo knew it.
The feast was finally dwindling down, people left at intervals. Merry and Pippin yawned and said their good-nights. Faithful Sam was falling asleep beside Frodo, snoring softly. Frodo smiled and gently shook his friend.
"Sam," the other hobbit blinked his eyes open and looked at Frodo sleepily.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, guess the day's finally caught up with me," he said sheepishly.
"Why don't you go to bed then?" offered Frodo.
"Are you coming?" asked Sam. Frodo smiled and shook his head.
"No, I want to stay up a while and look around some more," he answered, "But you go on, I wont be long," he added when Sam began to protest. Sam nodded and stood up. He said a polite 'thank-you' to Elrond and the elves then retired to his bed.
Frodo did the same but left through a different doorway, leading to one of the may beautiful gardens that were strewn throughout Rivendell. He walked the paths for a while admiring the plants and small waterfalls.
A glint of metal caught his eye off to one side, and he stepped off the path. He followed the shine to the edge of a small clearing. There, framed in moonlight, was Kalan.
The youth had doffed his shirt and boots, wearing only his loose trousers. Against the backdrop of a waterfall he stood, perfectly still. Frodo wasn't even sure he was breathing. His eyes were closed and before him he held a sword, its blade flashing in the moonlight was what had caught the hobbit's eye. The sword was not all that big, in fact it was quite slim and light, definitely elven-made. Kalan held the blade parallel to his body, perfectly still and silent.
Frodo was about to make his presence known when the silver eyes opened and the lithe body leapt into motion. The hobbit's breath caught in his throat, never had he seen anything so beautiful and graceful as what he was watching now.
Kalan leapt and spun, ducked and kicked, spinning and thrusting the sword in a ceaseless dance. The moonlight glinted off the blade, hypnotizing Frodo. Kalan spun on one foot, rolling his wrist with sword in a mock parry. It was then that Frodo realized that Kalan was not dancing at all; he was fighting! Training, exercising, practicing these graceful, precise movements that years of repeating had imprinted into his memory. He concentrated so hard, yet moved so effortlessly…
Frodo shifted his weight, accidentally cracking a twig under his foot. Instantly, Kalan spun toward the noise, the blade gliding in a deadly arc toward the unprepared hobbit. The sword stopped dead still before slicing his head neatly from his shoulders. Frodo, too frightened to move, felt the cold steel on the skin on his throat. It neither drew blood nor drew away.
Frodo looked up at the sword's wielder. Kalan blinked his eyes, recognition flickering in their depths. The blade was drawn away from the shaken hobbit and Kalan crouched down to be closer to Frodo's level.
"Frodo Baggins, you must not sneak up on me like that, especially while I am exercising. You could have just lost your head," the youth half- smiled and stood, turning away from Frodo.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he looked down sheepishly, "You just mesmerized me with your sword work," he admitted. Kalan looked over his shoulder at the hobbit.
"It's all right, just be careful not to repeat your mistake, it may be you last," he said and knelt at the edge of a small pool. He bent, cupping some water in his hands and splashing it on his face. As he did this, the moonlight illuminated his tanned back.
Frodo's eyes widened, his gaze roved over a mess of criss-crossing scars that marred the skin of the boy's back. Most were very old, but two in particular, one on each shoulder blade, were fresh and livid. They looked to be about three days old. They looked like wounds that kept re- opening…
Frodo blinked out of his reverie as Kalan stood, facing him once more. Frodo tried to hide the fact that he had been staring, but the sharp silver eyes caught him.
Kalan frowned, then reached over and grasped his shirt, which lay to one side. He pulled this on over his head, then followed with his boots. In all this time, neither said anything; Kalan did not meet the hobbit's gaze. It was Frodo who decided that something ought to be said. HE stepped quietly and calmly over to the rock where Kalan sat lacing up his boots. Frodo sat down beside him, if the boy noticed this, he showed no sign. The hobbit spoke in a soft, calm voice.
"What happened?" he asked. Kalan tensed, his fingers ceased their tying. Frodo felt him breathe deeply beside him.
"It was a long time ago," was all he answered and continued his task without looking at the hobbit. But Frodo was not about to give up that easily.
"I can see that, but it also seems to me that it still hurts you, inside. I saw your face when you knew I had seen them," Frodo placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, "I'll listen if you want to talk –"
"Frodo Baggins," he was cut off by a sharp voice, Kalan turned his silvery gaze to him, and for one instant Frodo saw a world of pain, loss, fear and anger, a child forced to grow up in a harsh world too soon. Frightened and alone, lost in a sea of dispair. But it was only for a moment, Kalan blinked and his eyes were once again cool, silver mirrors. "You have the fate of the world hanging around your neck. I suggest you forget everything you just saw, go to your bed and sleep." Kalan shifted out from under his hand and stood.
Frodo did the same, and they just looked at each other. Finally, Frodo nodded and turned to leave. When he reached the edge of the clearing, he turned back once more.
"Kalan, I'm glad you're coming with us. Something in my heart tells me we need you," and with that, left.
After the halfling and gone, Kalan turned to face the waterfall, just staring into it. After a few seconds a tear ran down his cheek, followed by another, than more till the boy was crying silently.
A figure moved out of the shadows, coming to stand behind the boy. Elrond wrapped his arms around the slightly shaking form, holding him close.
"Gildae, amin hiraetha,"(1)[2] he whispered into his ear, "If I had known this would happen, I would have never summoned you here," these words broke something in the boy, his silver mirrors shattered and he turned in the elf's embrace till he was crying against his shoulder.
Elrond said nothing more, just held him as he cries. The elf-lord remembered when they had been in this same position so many years ago. The boy had just been brought to Rivendell, his physical wounds healed but his heart was still bleeding. Elrond had held him just like this that day, as the child cried out his pain, loss, fear and anger. It had taken many long years for Kalan to come to terms with the pain inside, though he had never fully healed from it and never would. But through the gentleness and loving care of Elrond, the ugly wound in his heart healed till it became just a dull pain. Now and again it was surface with the ferocity of a summer storm: like now.
Kalan's sobs began to diminish, but Elrond did not yet release him. The boy coughed and sniffed.
"No," he choked out," No, I'm glad you did. The hobbit is right," he pushed away, looking up at the elf, "they need me," and then he lowered his head again to Elrond's shoulder.
Elrond gently eased them both down to the rock Kalan once occupied. He shifted a bit, resting Kalan's head more comfortably on his shoulder. The boy continued, "When Boromir brought up my mother, it started, that's why I did not come to the feast tonight. Then when the hobbit came and saw…that, it took all my strength not to break in front of him," he finished.
Elrond nodded, understanding. He knew how painful the thought of his mother still was, the memory of her and what happened so many years ago still haunted the boy in his dreams.
"I know, and if I know you, by tomorrow you will have yourself under control and go on with them like nothing has happened, hm?" he looked down at Kalan who smiled softly.
"Yes, because I have to," he pushed away from the elf, looking solemnly into his eyes, "I swore I would see the destruction of the Ring and I will, even if it costs me my own life. I don't mind anymore, I have already lived more that my share of lifetimes, over one and a half thousand years I think,"
Elrond nodded again, knowing how the youth, or youth only in appearances, felt about death. The boy had been like a son to him, much like Aragorn, though long before the Dunadain. He dreaded losing the boy as he dreaded losing Aragorn or any of his children. But he knew that if the Fellowship was to succeed, Kalan must go with them. And if the quest failed and Sauron got hold of the Ring once more, Kalan was the only being strong enough to challenge the Dark Lord's power.
Elrond reached out and drew Kalan near. Gently, he kissed his forehead, then laid the boy's head down upon his lap. Slowly, caressing, he stroked the messy ebony waves, projecting thoughts of love to the boy who had become so close to the ancient elf's heart. "Quel kaima,"(2)[3] It was in this way that Kalan fell asleep.
* * *
----------------------- [1] Gildae: Kalan's Elven name, translated as "Star-Shadow"
[2] 1) Gildae, I'm sorry
[3] 2) Sleep well
By: Kalan Gildae Dragonson Sadaya
1.1 The Council of Lord Elrond, Rivendell
"I will take it!" a small voice called out over the din of the other's arguments. "I will take the Ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way," Frodo Baggins took the One Ring in his small hand. Gandalf the Gray turned to the halfling, his love for the hobbit shown in his eyes.
"I will guide you, and help you carry this burden for as long as it is yours to bear," Frodo nodded his thanks to his old friend. One by one, others stood to join the first two. Strider the ranger, now revealed as Aragorn son of Arathorn heir to the throne of Gondor vowed to protect Frodo. Along with Boromir, the eldest son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor was Legolas son of King Thranduil of the Mirkwood elves and Gimli son of Gloin of the dwarves. Also joining Frodo on his quest was his friends from the Shire: Samwise, or "Sam" Gamgee, Meriadoc "Merry" Brandybuck, and Peregrin "Pippin" Took.
Lord Elrond looked upon the group, a rag-tag bunch of unlikely heroes thrown together by fate. It was then his sensitive ears picked up a sound of flapping wings, and a familiar presence touched his mind.
"Woah, hold on, I'm coming," a voice called out, not far off. Light feet running, a gasp and groan of pain. Elrond grimaced, knowing all to well what the pain was, but he said nothing.
Aragorn and Boromir had drawn their swords and now held them ready. But all blinked in surprise as a young man, actually more like a teenager strode into the council area.
He was actually quite small for a human, no more than five and a half feet tall. Dressed in plain black pants and black leather boots that came to mid-calf. On top he wore a distinctly elven-made shirt, black with gray weaving and embroidery. Also he wore a long gray cloak, it seemed that it had been hastily put on because it was hanging unevenly over one shoulder and the boy was still clasping it at the neck. He had shoulder length black hair, falling in messy waves, the wind blowing it into his eyes. His eyes! Such a strange color they were – silver. Frodo felt like he was drowning in those eyes, he could feel a secret fire lurking just behind the cool silver. The youth blinked, breaking the spell and nodded to the other council members before turning to Elrond.
"Sorry I'm late, there was a bit of trouble along the northern border." He smiled at the elf-lord, who did the same, as if sharing a private joke.
"I trust all is well?" Elrond asked, the other nodded.
"Of course," he said nonchalantly, then paused when Elrond gave him a strange look, "What? You have absolutely no faith in me, you know that?" he threw his hands up in mock exasperation. Elrond laughed.
"Of course I have faith in you, Kalan, I just hope you are not taking unnecessary risks," he smiled warmly. Kalan, so the boy was called smile in return and nodded. Elrond turned to face the counsel once more.
"My friends, may I introduce Kalan Gildae[1] Sadaya, Elvellon (elf- friend) of many years," Kalan nodded to each person, his strange eyes lingering on Frodo then came to rest upon the wizard. He grinned.
"Gandalf the Gray, you old charlatan! Still corrupting our youth, I see?" he laughed, indicating the hobbits. Gandalf smiled and strode forward to clasp arms with the lad. He then pulled him into a tight embrace. After a few seconds the parted, and Gandalf gave the boy a good look over.
"And you, you old myth, what's this I hear about you up north?" he asked with a sly smile. Kalan just shrugged.
"The villagers were having trouble with some goblin raids, I decided to make an end of it," he answered, then turned away from Gandalf to look over the rest of the group. "A scraggly bunch this is," he turned back to Elrond, "Slim pickings, eh, Pointy-Ears?" he cocked on fine eyebrow at the elf-lord. But before Elrond could respond, a fuming Legolas stepped forward.
"Speak with some respect to the Lord of Rivendell!" he said, a threatening tone in his voice. Kalan turned to him, amusement sparkling in the silvery depths of his eyes.
"My friend elf, Legolas, isn't it? I have never in my life called him 'lord', nor have I ever spoken to anyone with respect. But never have I ever insulted him with malice in my heart," Legolas said nothing more, but did not move back. Elrond placed a hand on the other elf's shoulder.
"It is true, Legolas, he meant no harm, only a small jest, am I correct you annoying, dim-witted child?" he smirked at Kalan who tried his best to cover a laugh at the look on Legolas' face. Never had the prince heard Lord Elrond speak to someone like that. But it was clear that the two were only joking with each other and that calmed his temper. He nodded and stepped back to where he previously stood.
~I am guessing you want me to go with them on this quest? ~ a voice asked inside Elrond's head. He mentally nodded.
~Yes, they need you if they are to succeed. The Ring must be destroyed, or all of Middle-earth shall be covered in a second darkness, ~ he answered then, he 'saw' a frown.
~You know I hate darkness, ~ a pause, then, ~Very well, it seems I have no other choice. You and Gandalf haven't told them anything about me, have you? ~ Elrond 'shook' his 'head'. ~Good, I don't want them knowing anything too soon, they would not understand. I will go, I will make sure the Ring is destroyed. ~ Then both he and Kalan turned their attentions back to the counsel. The mental conversation had only lasted a few seconds, so no one seemed to notice.
"Kalan will be joining you on this quest. He is a trusted friend and beneficial ally," declared Elrond. Boromir shook his head and stepped forward.
"He is naught but a boy," he countered, "He would only get himself or all of us killed." Then, turning to Kalan, "Go back to your mother, child," and turned away. But something dangerous flashed in Kalan's silver eyes. He grabbed the man's arm, turning him as if he were the child.
"My mother is dead, Boromir, do not speak of her to me," he said in a low, deceptively calm voice, "And if it is my skill and experience that worries you, I have had more battles than you could have in five lifetimes," he released the man and turned away. Boromir opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the lad, who did not even turn around. "Just leave it at that," was all he said and he walked over to a winding stone pillar and leaned against it. His silver eyes were no longer sparkling, but dull and sad.
"Time is against us, you shall leave tomorrow at first light," said Elrond as he looked upon the group. "If you are loyal and strong hearted, you will succeed. You shall be called the Fellowship of the Ring," he declared.
Frodo looked at the Ring he held in his hand. There were nine other people to help him surely they must succeed. He looked up and over to the shadows where Kalan stood, he saw the boy nod then turn away, disappearing into the halls of Rivendell.
* * *
That night, Lord Elrond held a feast in the Fellowship's honor. Sam, Merry and Pippin were amazed by all the different types of food, still in awe of everything in Rivendell. Aragorn spoke long with Elrond and Gandalf, but the others, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli stayed to themselves and their own kind. Frodo looked around, hoping to see Kalan at the party. But the youth was nowhere to be seen. Something about the dark- haired lad confused and mesmerized the hobbit. He was young, probably no older than eighteen years, yet he had said to Boromir, that he had fought more battles than the man could in five lifetimes! It just didn't make sense.
When those eyes had rested their unearthly gaze upon him, he felt a strange…something, in his heart. A great power, something old and definitely something Frodo did not wand as an enemy. And when Boromir mentioned the boy's mother, that power changed, to something dark, angry and sad. There was more to this boy, and Frodo knew it.
The feast was finally dwindling down, people left at intervals. Merry and Pippin yawned and said their good-nights. Faithful Sam was falling asleep beside Frodo, snoring softly. Frodo smiled and gently shook his friend.
"Sam," the other hobbit blinked his eyes open and looked at Frodo sleepily.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, guess the day's finally caught up with me," he said sheepishly.
"Why don't you go to bed then?" offered Frodo.
"Are you coming?" asked Sam. Frodo smiled and shook his head.
"No, I want to stay up a while and look around some more," he answered, "But you go on, I wont be long," he added when Sam began to protest. Sam nodded and stood up. He said a polite 'thank-you' to Elrond and the elves then retired to his bed.
Frodo did the same but left through a different doorway, leading to one of the may beautiful gardens that were strewn throughout Rivendell. He walked the paths for a while admiring the plants and small waterfalls.
A glint of metal caught his eye off to one side, and he stepped off the path. He followed the shine to the edge of a small clearing. There, framed in moonlight, was Kalan.
The youth had doffed his shirt and boots, wearing only his loose trousers. Against the backdrop of a waterfall he stood, perfectly still. Frodo wasn't even sure he was breathing. His eyes were closed and before him he held a sword, its blade flashing in the moonlight was what had caught the hobbit's eye. The sword was not all that big, in fact it was quite slim and light, definitely elven-made. Kalan held the blade parallel to his body, perfectly still and silent.
Frodo was about to make his presence known when the silver eyes opened and the lithe body leapt into motion. The hobbit's breath caught in his throat, never had he seen anything so beautiful and graceful as what he was watching now.
Kalan leapt and spun, ducked and kicked, spinning and thrusting the sword in a ceaseless dance. The moonlight glinted off the blade, hypnotizing Frodo. Kalan spun on one foot, rolling his wrist with sword in a mock parry. It was then that Frodo realized that Kalan was not dancing at all; he was fighting! Training, exercising, practicing these graceful, precise movements that years of repeating had imprinted into his memory. He concentrated so hard, yet moved so effortlessly…
Frodo shifted his weight, accidentally cracking a twig under his foot. Instantly, Kalan spun toward the noise, the blade gliding in a deadly arc toward the unprepared hobbit. The sword stopped dead still before slicing his head neatly from his shoulders. Frodo, too frightened to move, felt the cold steel on the skin on his throat. It neither drew blood nor drew away.
Frodo looked up at the sword's wielder. Kalan blinked his eyes, recognition flickering in their depths. The blade was drawn away from the shaken hobbit and Kalan crouched down to be closer to Frodo's level.
"Frodo Baggins, you must not sneak up on me like that, especially while I am exercising. You could have just lost your head," the youth half- smiled and stood, turning away from Frodo.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he looked down sheepishly, "You just mesmerized me with your sword work," he admitted. Kalan looked over his shoulder at the hobbit.
"It's all right, just be careful not to repeat your mistake, it may be you last," he said and knelt at the edge of a small pool. He bent, cupping some water in his hands and splashing it on his face. As he did this, the moonlight illuminated his tanned back.
Frodo's eyes widened, his gaze roved over a mess of criss-crossing scars that marred the skin of the boy's back. Most were very old, but two in particular, one on each shoulder blade, were fresh and livid. They looked to be about three days old. They looked like wounds that kept re- opening…
Frodo blinked out of his reverie as Kalan stood, facing him once more. Frodo tried to hide the fact that he had been staring, but the sharp silver eyes caught him.
Kalan frowned, then reached over and grasped his shirt, which lay to one side. He pulled this on over his head, then followed with his boots. In all this time, neither said anything; Kalan did not meet the hobbit's gaze. It was Frodo who decided that something ought to be said. HE stepped quietly and calmly over to the rock where Kalan sat lacing up his boots. Frodo sat down beside him, if the boy noticed this, he showed no sign. The hobbit spoke in a soft, calm voice.
"What happened?" he asked. Kalan tensed, his fingers ceased their tying. Frodo felt him breathe deeply beside him.
"It was a long time ago," was all he answered and continued his task without looking at the hobbit. But Frodo was not about to give up that easily.
"I can see that, but it also seems to me that it still hurts you, inside. I saw your face when you knew I had seen them," Frodo placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, "I'll listen if you want to talk –"
"Frodo Baggins," he was cut off by a sharp voice, Kalan turned his silvery gaze to him, and for one instant Frodo saw a world of pain, loss, fear and anger, a child forced to grow up in a harsh world too soon. Frightened and alone, lost in a sea of dispair. But it was only for a moment, Kalan blinked and his eyes were once again cool, silver mirrors. "You have the fate of the world hanging around your neck. I suggest you forget everything you just saw, go to your bed and sleep." Kalan shifted out from under his hand and stood.
Frodo did the same, and they just looked at each other. Finally, Frodo nodded and turned to leave. When he reached the edge of the clearing, he turned back once more.
"Kalan, I'm glad you're coming with us. Something in my heart tells me we need you," and with that, left.
After the halfling and gone, Kalan turned to face the waterfall, just staring into it. After a few seconds a tear ran down his cheek, followed by another, than more till the boy was crying silently.
A figure moved out of the shadows, coming to stand behind the boy. Elrond wrapped his arms around the slightly shaking form, holding him close.
"Gildae, amin hiraetha,"(1)[2] he whispered into his ear, "If I had known this would happen, I would have never summoned you here," these words broke something in the boy, his silver mirrors shattered and he turned in the elf's embrace till he was crying against his shoulder.
Elrond said nothing more, just held him as he cries. The elf-lord remembered when they had been in this same position so many years ago. The boy had just been brought to Rivendell, his physical wounds healed but his heart was still bleeding. Elrond had held him just like this that day, as the child cried out his pain, loss, fear and anger. It had taken many long years for Kalan to come to terms with the pain inside, though he had never fully healed from it and never would. But through the gentleness and loving care of Elrond, the ugly wound in his heart healed till it became just a dull pain. Now and again it was surface with the ferocity of a summer storm: like now.
Kalan's sobs began to diminish, but Elrond did not yet release him. The boy coughed and sniffed.
"No," he choked out," No, I'm glad you did. The hobbit is right," he pushed away, looking up at the elf, "they need me," and then he lowered his head again to Elrond's shoulder.
Elrond gently eased them both down to the rock Kalan once occupied. He shifted a bit, resting Kalan's head more comfortably on his shoulder. The boy continued, "When Boromir brought up my mother, it started, that's why I did not come to the feast tonight. Then when the hobbit came and saw…that, it took all my strength not to break in front of him," he finished.
Elrond nodded, understanding. He knew how painful the thought of his mother still was, the memory of her and what happened so many years ago still haunted the boy in his dreams.
"I know, and if I know you, by tomorrow you will have yourself under control and go on with them like nothing has happened, hm?" he looked down at Kalan who smiled softly.
"Yes, because I have to," he pushed away from the elf, looking solemnly into his eyes, "I swore I would see the destruction of the Ring and I will, even if it costs me my own life. I don't mind anymore, I have already lived more that my share of lifetimes, over one and a half thousand years I think,"
Elrond nodded again, knowing how the youth, or youth only in appearances, felt about death. The boy had been like a son to him, much like Aragorn, though long before the Dunadain. He dreaded losing the boy as he dreaded losing Aragorn or any of his children. But he knew that if the Fellowship was to succeed, Kalan must go with them. And if the quest failed and Sauron got hold of the Ring once more, Kalan was the only being strong enough to challenge the Dark Lord's power.
Elrond reached out and drew Kalan near. Gently, he kissed his forehead, then laid the boy's head down upon his lap. Slowly, caressing, he stroked the messy ebony waves, projecting thoughts of love to the boy who had become so close to the ancient elf's heart. "Quel kaima,"(2)[3] It was in this way that Kalan fell asleep.
* * *
----------------------- [1] Gildae: Kalan's Elven name, translated as "Star-Shadow"
[2] 1) Gildae, I'm sorry
[3] 2) Sleep well