The kitchen aromas beckoned the children first, for their young stomachs craved frequently, and although they were in their mid-teens and nearly grown, they preferred not to resist their father’s cooking. Cutch heard them enter the great hall and happily called out, “I hope you’re all hungry. This morning we eat like hobbits!”
He sprinkled a pinch of mugwort over the fried potatoes and turned to greet Bainiel and Ardanion. To his pleasant surprise, his wife Seregrían was close behind them, arisen but still sleepy, her expression a plea for coffee. Her bare feet padded softly across the floor to her honored place at the head of the high table. Their children took their usual places, noses lifted to capture the enticing scent of mushroom omelets, fried potatoes, and bacon.
Cutch served the ladies first and poured each of them a cup of deeply rich coffee, then served Ardanion and himself. He paused, looking around the table to see that his family was satisfied, then sat. “So, how are we all this morning?”, he asked and sipped his coffee.
Ardanion vaguely nodded at the question while he munched a mouthful of food. His sister looked at Seregrían and pointedly asked, “Yes, how are we all?” Cutch glanced at his wife over the rim of his steaming cup.
“Well... I presume everyone wants a tale?” Seregrían said, holding her coffee in both hands. Ardanion looked up at her with hopeful eyes and his sister immediately pressed in with, “Well, yes! I mean, we were on our way to Rivendell, then turned back.” The girl looked meaningfully at Cutch, hoping for an explanation.
Cutch quietly interrupted his daughter. “Well, I am hopeful that it has been, perhaps, only postponed, mell bereth?”
Seregrían stopped in mid-sip while everyone else held their concerned gazes on her. “Indeed, only postponed. I gave my word we would go, just some... changes...” She shifted in her chair before continuing. “All of you, you're all dear to me beyond words - and I do what I say and mean.”
Cutch listened respectfully, hoping to encourage the same from their children. Ardanion paused chewing and Bainiel set her mug down, harder than she meant to. Her father offered her a gentle look which she chose to ignore, instead insisting, “You haven't told us why there were 'changes' to the trip, Naneth - or what happened in Bree?”
“Understand, it was nothing you did,” Seregrían said, gazing into her coffee and wishing it were wine, “or your brother, or father. I was, well, suddenly made to face a fact of life...” Cutch leaned toward her, offering his hand, which she took. “The fact that all three of you,” she continued, “despite your lineage - will one day leave me alone. Sometimes, I have to remind myself, I'm a wife and mother; and am loved by a wonderful family.”
Ardanion approached the table with four glasses and a bottle of Duillond Red; he had, unnoticed, stood up from the table as Seregrían spoke, and fetched the items from the wine rack. The young man poured them each a glass of wine. Seregrían raised an eyebrow at Ardanion grumbling, “So, you're getting perceptive too, ion nin?” she grinned despite her tone. Cutch smiled at his son and nodded his approval.
Bainiel said, “What, Naneth? You need to be reminded of us? Doesn't Ardanion cause enough trouble for two?”
Ignoring his sister momentarily, Ardanion lifted his glass to Seregrían. "I AM your son, Naneth.” Bainiel winked at her brother, who shook his head at her in reply and wore a crooked grin.
Cutch interrupted the siblings’ byplay. “It isn't that, Bainiel. I think this is all about coming to grips with our mortality.”
“And that includes me,” Seregrian said. “Bainiel... Ardanion... for the longest time, I didn't let this bother me; but just now, in Bree, it hit me like a slap in the face. I can tell myself that I won't lose you, but the truth is I shall, one day, lose you all.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked around at them. “But I made you all this promise: I shall always be here, for you, and your children, and their children, down the ages - because they're part of you, and of me; all of our family to come will remind me of you.”
“And your mother will offer you the inspiration for your heart to hold love,” Cutch added.
Ardanion nodded at his father's words. “How could they not love you as we do, Naneth?”
Bainiel listened with both interest and sadness. “Naneth, did you ever, well... have you ever thought about how long we have? I mean, think: you're full Elf; Ada is both, that's what Grandmama told us - just how much Elf-blood is enough to... live on?”
Seregrían fell silent, looking down at her empty coffee - then up at Bainiel with all seriousness. “I don't know....” Cutch gently squeezed his wife’s hand.
Surprised by Seregrían, Bainiel daughter blurted, “You... don't know!? You hide in the Sanctum, with every weird book in Falathlorn and - You. Don't. Know!”
Cutch waited for the moment to interrupt. “Bainiel, please hear me out. Books of the past can teach us many good and useful things. They cannot, however, make any of us clairvoyant. The truth is, none of us know how long we will be here, whether we are immortal or not. How many Immortals gave their lives in great causes in the past, and found themselves in the Halls of Mandos?”
Ardanion nodded thoughtfully, but Bainiel plowed on. “Ada, Mandos is where Elves go to rest - no one knows where Mortals go, not even Mortals.”
“You are right, we do not,” Cutch agreed. “So, our course must be to live the best lives we can for however long we are here, and care for each other.”
“But what are we,” Bainiel asked insistently, “are we Elves or Men?”
“You are Bainiel, before you are anything else,” Cutch replied, “and your choices will do more to determine your fate than anything else.”
Seregrían had held silent, listening to the talk before rejoining. “You are the best of both - never forget that, iell nin. Your face favors me; Ardanion favors his father. Many times, I have heard you referred to by others as an Elf; and those same call Ardanion a Man. But the two of you are the best of both. Ardanion, like his father, has a 'touch of Elf'...”
Ardanion interrupted with, “But that is just what they say when they look at us. That doesn't mean they really know us.”
“Yes, that's true,” Seregrían said, turning to her son. “And what if they do know? It doesn't change who you are. Look at it another way, ion nin, and this may be a surprise to you. You are not just Ardanion Crane. You are the son of Seregrían, the son of the Blood-queen!” Ardanion saw his mother’s smile become wicked, and he could see the glint of silver in her eyes.
Seregrían then turned to her daughter. “Bainiel, the same applies for you. You are not just the daughter of Seregrían; you are the daughter of Cutch Crane - hunter, steward, and hero.”
“And sometimes mortal fool,” Cutch interjected with a grin, “for your mother’s love, that is.” Ardanion, blushing slightly, smiled at his father, and devotion shone in Bainiel’s eyes as she also regarded him.
After pausing for a moment to share her husband’s grin, Seregrían continued. “Both of you, my young loves, are the best of both of us. And that love is never in doubt.”
Cutch cleared his throat. “And know this, also. This family is the best haven we have against an unpredictable world. In your time, I hope you will continue to keep it, for your mother’s sake, for your own sakes, and for the generations that follow us.”
Bainiel shrugged, and slyly tossed out, ”Well, I guess that settles one question: brother, we have to find beaus, and fast!” Seregrían stared open-mouthed at Bainiel, then smiled, then chuckled, then let out a real laugh.
Cutch joined his wife’s laughter. "I think you need not be in too much of a rush, princess. Take care in that cause.”
Squeezing her husband’s hand, Seregrían jibed, “Judging from her antics at Mereth Nethlad, she's getting a head start.”
“I should have never given you that book of Gondorian love ballads,” Ardanion dryly replied.
“Gift of foresight?” his sister shot back. “You saw this coming, Elf-boy?”
“It was a tease, Bane,” Ardanion said, “because you are so boy-crazy!”
“Bane, is it! And what about you, Dumdum?”
Ardanion openly laughed. “Looks like we have a mission, sister of mine!”
“A sprint to the wedding pavilion?” Bainiel said, “Ha! I'll be the clear winner, then.”
“You are so short-sighted, Bane. We have the happy cause of keeping Naneth surrounded with generations of adoring children!” Ardanion’s words carried more bravado than confidence, but he winked at his mother. “I hope you can keep up, Naneth.”
“Adoring children,” Seregrían mused, “that's one thing I do hope to have. It's something your father and I talked about as well.” She looked at Cutch, and tapped her finger just beneath her right eye. “We were speaking of a 'fallen star'...”
As the children once again fell into another round of snickering teases, Cutch quietly said one word to his beloved wife: “Gilmorwen…”
<< to be continued >>
Special thanks to Seregran for expert editing and 2nd screenshot 
