– One excerpt in a compilation of many recordings of the Thaliondor brothers and what occurred to, by, and between them during the Age of the Obsidian Throne. –
“Wait up, Raní!” Gildran called out. His short, seven-year-old legs struggled through the long, golden grasses as he hurried after his older brother. “Raní!”
Aerandír slowed his pace and looked back at his younger brother. “Come on, Gil!” He called, waving his hand.
“I am coming!” Gildran puffed, disgruntled. “My legs are too short!”
“Mine aren’t much longer, you know.” Aerandír pointed out as Gildran stumbled up to him. The breeze brushed a healthy pink hue into both little boys’ cheeks.
“Yeah, but you’re older, Raní.” Gildran grumbled, his black hair flopping into his eyes. He shoved it out of his face.
“I’m nine sun-cycles.” Aerandír stated matter-of-factly.
“That’s still old!”
Aerandír scoffed. “Not that old, Gil. Now come on! I want to see the Elanthir blossoms!” With that, he took off again, running in short, hopping steps through the tall, golden grass, Gildran puffing behind him.
“Raní!”
The two boys stumbled to a halt before a massive, squat tree in the middle of the golden field. The tree was in full leaf, lush and green. At the end of every small twig and branch was a fat, quivering, closed blossom the size of a man’s fist. Each blossom’s petals were wrapped around each other; the plump pods resembled a tightly woven cocoon. Each was a mixture of ethereal gold, pink, lavender, and white. Each glowed almost imperceptibly with a pale light.
The two boys gazed up at the tree in awe. The midmorning sunlight shone through the leaves and haloed the blossoms before catching in the golden highlights of Aerandír’s ash-blond locks and the deep-blue highlights in Gildran’s black hair.
They watched in reverent silence, their limbs still and calm for once, as the blossoms slowly, quiveringly unfurled into beautiful flowers the size of dinner plates. The sight was breathtaking, its beauty surprisingly not lost on the two young elves.
For a full minute after the blossoms had all opened, Aerandír and Gildran stood gaping at the sight.
Then the stillness was shattered as both boys made a break for the tree.
“I’m going to get Mother the first blossom of the Elanthír tree!” Aerandír shouted, pulling ahead of his brother.
“No! I want to!” Gildran shrieked. He grabbed for Aerandír’s shirt, but missed, as Aerandír hoisted himself into the lowest branches of the tree. Gil scrambled up behind him. He caught up to his brother a few branches later and grasped a handful of Aerandír’s cream-colored tunic.
“Raní, no! Let me!”
“Let go! I’m getting it!”
Aerandír’s hand grasped the base of one of the fat blossoms and plucked it from the branch just as his foot slipped and Gil tugged on him. With twin gasps of fear and surprise, the two boys toppled out of the tree and hit the ground with a solid thud. They lay sprawled on their backs, limbs tangled, gazing up at the sunlit leaves of the tree. Each was wondering what exactly had happened.
Gildran was the first to recover. He rolled over onto his stomach and got his hands and knees under himself.
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“The flower! It’s squished!” He wailed in dismay as his eye caught on the smashed blossom beneath Aerandír’s leg.
“Oh great.” Aerandír muttered, picking himself up and dusting off his clothes. Gil hung his head.
“I’m sorry, Raní.” He whispered. “It’s my fault it got squished.”
Aerandír bit back the tirade of disgust and grumpiness he had been about to unleash at his little brother. Instead, he laid his hand on Gil’s shoulder, thinking about how his father would handle this.
“True, but I forgive you, Gil.” He said kindly. “Here, you can help get another flower!” He tousled his brother’s hair, then crouched slightly, lacing his fingers together into a cup. Gildran’s face lit up in a bright smile. He grasped Aerandír’s shoulder and placed his booted foot in his brother’s hands. Aerandír braced and lifted, and up Gil went!
One foot in his brother’s laced hands, one foot hanging in midair, and a hand grasping the shoulder of Aerandír’s tunic, Gildran stretched up his other hand for one of the lowest Elanthír blossoms. His fingers brushed it, then grabbed it. Plucked it free and Aerandír lowered Gil to the ground.
“Ooh, that’s a pretty one!” He exclaimed, pleased. Gildran grinned.
“Aerandír! Gildran!” A musical, feminine voice floated out over the golden grasses of the field. Both boys perked up.
“Here, Mother!” They cried, hopping up and down. Gildran held the Elanthír blossom aloft.
Lady Fenwyn ambled serenely through the field, her hand tucked in the crook of her lord’s elbow. Her husband, Lord Aelríon, smiled at his sons as they enthusiastically greeted their parents. The two boys dashed up to Fenwyn and Aelríon and Gildran shoved the Elanthír blossom into his mother’s hand.
“Here, Mother! We picked it together!”
“It’s for you! The blossoms have already opened!”
“You’re late, but we got one for you!”
“We fell out of the tree, but then Gil apologized and–”
“It was on a low branch! Raní held me up so I could reach!”
“– We’re fine, and look, the flower’s still glowing!”
Their words tumbled over each other as they gazed up at their parents’ amused faces. The boys’ features were veritably glowing with delight as they halted their rambling sentences, breathless.
Aelríon laughed, resolving to get the full story from his sons later in the day. Fenwyn grinned, clearly enjoying her children’s antics.
“I thank you,” She said. Happy and laughing, the boys scampered off, satisfied that their mother enjoyed their gift. Gildran chased Aerandír back to the Elanthír tree. The black-haired boy snatched up a long stick from the grass beneath the tree and settled into a clumsy stance.
“En guarde, Raní!” He shouted at his brother. Grinning, Aerandír picked up a stick of his own. Their laughter and happy shrieks could be heard all across the field as two brothers proceeded to battle each other with their ‘swords’.
~
Fenwyn watched them, smiling in happy contentment at her sons. The breeze blew her black hair across her face, and she brushed it aside.
“They’re so much like you.” She murmured to her husband. He smiled in reply, his eyes on the boys.
“They will be fine warriors when they grow.” He said.
~
“I’m a mighty warrior like Father!” Gildran cried, slashing a fierce blow at his brother. Aerandír caught it on the blade of his ‘sword’ and shoved against Gil– who surprisingly held his ground.
“I’m Fáelar the Lightbound!” Aerandír retorted, grinning, as he and Gildran exchanged a flurry of (clumsy) blows.
“No fair!” Gil cried. “He’s a legend!”
“I know.”
“Then I’m Maethór the Swiftblade!” Gil proclaimed, swinging his stick with gusto. With glad shouts and many happy, brotherly insults, the two boys carried on their fight for a while longer, until Gildran succeeded in shoving his brother over, knocking him onto his back. On his way to the ground, Aerandír grabbed Gil’s arm and tunic and took him down with him. Sticks discarded and forgotten, the boys wrestled until they collapsed onto their backs in sheer exhaustion. They lay there in the golden grass, panting. Watching the clouds meander by in the blue sky above.
“You are indeed a mighty warrior.” Aerandír complemented his brother. Gil grinned.
“So’re you. You’re going to be just like Father some day, Raní.”
“We’ll both be mighty warriors and none shall stand against us!” Aerandír fantasized, squeezing one eye closed and raising a hand skyward, tracing shapes in the clouds.
“We’ll fight every battle together!” Gildran carried the fantasy further.
“Always have each other’s backs.” Aerandír agreed.
“Brothers no matter what.” Gildran nodded decisively. He looked over at Aerandír, his slightly chubby face suddenly sober. “I swear it, Raní.”
Aerandír met his brother’s gaze. “‘Swear it’?” He queried. Gil nodded.
“We’ll need each other. I can feel it in my tummy. Father says dark things are getting more common. We need to fight them.” He said with all the wisdom of a child.
Aerandír nodded in sudden agreement. “Okay. I’ll always have your back, Gil. No matter what. I swear it.”
“No matter what.” Gil tasted the words and smiled. “Forever and always. I swear it.”