Oh Daughter Dear

Of The Age of Men

Long after the talk had ended, Ada led us to the banquet he had prepared.

"So Mistress Gailthîr," Elendil questions as we walk down the beautiful corridors and adorned rooms of my home. "How old are you exactly, if you don't mind me asking?"

I glance up at him. "I was only jesting earlier, Prince, just call me Gailthîr, or Gail for short. I am twenty-five of your sun years."

He puts a hand on his brow. "That only reminds me of how old I am. I am even older than you!"

"Really?" I question. Ada said men only live to be about thirty to forty of their years. "How old are you, Prince?"

He laughs and exchanges a look with Elrond. "Young one, I am one hundred and thirty one years old."

"That old?" I breathe.

He laughs. "An immortal elf, questioning the age of a man? What is this? Yes, I am that old."

"Do all men live to be as old as you?"

"Ah, now of that we do not speak. It is only us men from Numenor I suppose. My son Isildur is forty one, and he looks no older than I. Anárion has a few less winters on us, he is only thirty-one."

"You don't look one hundred years old. Ada told me men shrivel up like corpses when they get old."

Elendil clears his throat. "Did he now? Well maybe your Ada should keep his mouth shut. We do not shrivel up, we wrinkle. I am only half my age, maybe less. Old, you jest!"

"And yet you look as if twenty. I still do not understand your kins' problem with Illuvatar. He knew what He was doing." My Ada cuts in bitterly.

"I am sorry for the actions of my kin, but I am not accountable for them." Elendil' eyes flash. "Should you be held accountable for the horrors your kin committed?"

Ada's eyes soften and he sighs. "You do have a point there, Prince Elendil." He turns his attention to a servant. "Go warn the servants we are coming to the hall, tell them the king is coming."

Gil-Galad shakes his head. "You need not have such finery here, Lord Celebrimbor."

"Oh, but Aran Gil-Galad Fingonion Fingolfinion Finwëion, I think I do."

Gil-Galad snorts at all his titles. "My line does not make me apt to such treatment." Something catches his eye.

"A dwarf, Celebrimbor, really? Don't you remember what has transpired between us?" He asks curiously.

"Ah, but not me," Ada answers. "They are honuorable, and will serve you till their last breath. Have you seen their stronghold, Hadhodrond? Ah, the halls are lit with crystal lamps of mithril."

"They granted you acsess to the deep mines?" The king seems confused. "On what terms was this agreed on?"

A crease and a smile appears on my Adar's face. "I built their gate of Ithilden, the star stone, awakened by the light of the moon."

"Ah." Gil-Galad is cut off by the doors opening. "How splendid, let us eat and drink, for tonight alone may we be happy."

"Gailthîr," My mother calls. "You must come sit over here, Ada and his friends are going to be enjoying themselves, and I-"

"Ah come Meleth," Celebrimbor smiles and shakes his head. "Can't a little brethil get a break? Come, my brethil, let us amuse ourselves together on this merry night."

Somehow my fun Ada was back, and I was happier than ever as I sat among his friends and allies, not knowing the danger that was just around the corner.