"Can it truly be done?" Asked the trembling voice.
"If I suggested it, do you think I wouldn't know if it could be done?" growled the deep voice.
"But, it's so-so-so-
"Preposterous? Daring? Crazy?" Stated another voice, almost mocking. "Truly, Namo, I'm sure that you have lost your mind."
The Keeper of the Dead glared at the King of the Valar.
"I would not go as far as that, my love." Varda stated, looking up softly into her husbands eyes.
"This is the pool of Telperion, containing the last dew of Silpion, what you propose is improbable,' stated Manwe.
"But not impossible if we all combine our power and that of the pool,' stated Namo.
"Please,' Varda begged, 'You have seen the destruction that her death will leave Arda in."
Manwe shook his head, running his hand through his long hair. "We do not know if this will change what has already been started. It only takes a few stray stones to start an avalanche."
"But a firm foundation may lodge the stones in a crevice, stopping the avalanche."
"We have never tried something like this before,' stated Manwe, giving the three other's looking at him hope. 'But what if it is not Eru's will?"
Namo growled, 'I do not think he would have placed us in positions to watch over them if we were not to look out for their wellbeing."
"I will help you, Mandos,' Aule said, turning to his friend. 'No matter the cost."
"As will I,' said Varda.
Manwe rolled his eyes heavenward, 'Eru help me."
Aule wiggled his bushy eyebrows, 'I think he enjoys seeing you squirm, my friend."
"Shall we, Namo?" asked Varda, moving towards the door of the Keepers study.
"I shall join you at the pool in a moment, I need a moment to play out the spells for such a thing as we wish to do."
The Queen of the Valar nodded, and swept out the door, her dark hair swirling around her like a great cape filled with silver stars. Able followed after her, beginning to speak about what a wonder was about to be preformed.
Manwe turned to his friend, eyebrows raised. 'Why did you really stay, my friend?"
"Have you ever wanted to have a second chance at changing what happened with Margoth?' the Keepers deep voice asked.
"Of course, but that was even out of Er-
"But you wish you could have changed how many people were slaughtered.' pushed the Keeper.
"Well...yes."
"This just such a chance, and I would not miss it for the world,' Namo said, he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. 'I changed the course of history once before, with her ancestor Luthien, and I would do so again."
Manwe sighed, 'Why send her back only to die once again when her lover succumbs to the fate of Man?"
Namo shook his head, 'You're memory has apparently grown dim, my friend, if you cannot remember what I did for Luthien."
"I remember well enough. You sent her back, along with her lover, and it left you weak for many a year, and the halls were desolate without their keeper."
"Aye, but this time I shall have help, and the strength that it will take to send back one elf will be distributed between many, leaving us all a bit tired, but not ill."
"I still think it is preposterous to use the sacred pool."
"It will make it easier for Ulmo to send her to the Grey Havens, and it will heal her soul."
Thennil stood in one of the long hallways of the Halls of Dead, observing one of the many tapestries woven by Vaire. She had never see anything so beautiful in her life. The weave was tight, so tight in fact that the whole tapestry was stiff, as if it had been starched to within an inch of it's life to keep it from bending. The colors were so vibrant, so full of life, that the figures and pictures seemed to move as if they were real. She reached out her hand to touch the fabric, but shuddered when it only fell through the fabric. Turning away, she walked down the corridor, shoulders slumped. She wandered the halls following the tapestry as she began to recognize people and places she had been, and in a small blossom of amazement, saw her own life appear before her eyes. She looked over the weave, finding pictures scattered here and there of ever single part of her life, from her first breath, to her first step, to her secret training with Glorfindel, and more. She ran faster, the images flashing by her on the wall until she cam to a stand-still before a large image.
She was frozen, her feet shoulder-width apart as she gazed upon this final picture. Her death.
If the dead could cry, tears would have been pouring out of her eyes. There she lay in her lovers arms, the image more vivid than even those that had been woven long before. She was dripping in red blood, and her hair, which had been shorn short, barely past her ears. The locks of gold were scattered all around her, curling this way and that like rays of light bending around objects. Her eyes were drawn to the man who she loved, and then she did sob. His face was so full of grief and such great pain, as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest, and she supposed it had. There were lines in his face, which she had not remembered when he held her in the last fleeting moments that she had remembered, and tears poured out of his eyes. The picture changed before her eyes, and he was staring at the sky, mouth open in a agonizing scream she could almost hear in her mind. There was so much distress and suffering in his body as he cried. She wept, her voice softly keening as she fell to her knees before the tapestry. She leaned against the wall, hands clenched into fists as she imagined the great sorrow that must have overtaken her love.
"Oh Aragorn,' she whispered brokenly. 'If only I could have told you I loved you one more time. What I said was never enough to express the magnitude of my affection for you. If only-
A gentle hand came to rest upon her shoulder as her body shook violently as she sobbed. "All hope is not lost, little one."
She looked up, and wiped the tears from her eye, shuffling to her feet. Before her stood Nessa the Dancer. Her movements were graceful as she wove her way around the spirit of the elf, her long elegant fingers resting upon Thennil's shoulders. "Do not cry, youngling."
She drew her up onto her feet, and slowly began to dance down the hall, pulling the elf with her. Elves were known for their grace and beauty, and Thennil wondered if they had gotten any part of that from this beautiful woman. Her steps were purposeful, yet had a distinct flow to them that made it seem as if she was twisting and turning through halls. Her maidens soon joined her and music, like that of the leaves rustling together and the waves lapping at the shores of the coast hummed around them. Thennil was drawn into her dance, her own arms and legs bending and weaving as she moved in and out among the maidens. They were swift in their movements, dancing up the stairs and through the House of the moved through the house, and came to the great pool that sat beneath the dome of the house.
Now, in the center of the house, where she had come and wept at the basin, the ceiling rose up in a circular shape. The light from the water danced across the ceiling, showing depictions of the creation of the world by Eru, the two trees, and the Valar, then the birth of her people, and that of the Secondborn. The stars of the sky glittered down upon them and were reflected in the water. The pool itself was the last few precious drops of dew from one of the two trees, and was guarded by sentries of Elves whom Namo had chosen. It was peaceful here, and many of the dead who could not rest were found sitting or standing, or walking in the great room.
The women approached the basin, and slowly spread out dancing around it, while Nessa once again took Thennil's hand. Thennil was amazed at the amount of Valar who had been waiting for them in the room. There was Manwe and Varda, Aule and Yvanna, Namo and Vaire, Irmo and Este, Ulmo and Nessa. She knew that there were only a few of the Valar that were not present, and she wondered what great event had occurred to gather them so. Ulmo and Namo stepped up to her, and took her hands from Nessa, leading her towards the pool. Her jaw nearly dropped when they lifted her up onto the rim of the basin. She had never noticed before, but there was a slow incline down from the basin to the center of the pool. The white light from the water shone on her face, making her look quite ghost-like. She looked up at the Valar in confusion.
"What-
"We have granted you another chance, child."
"I don't understand."
"You were snatched from your world to soon,' Varda stated, stepping towards her, leaning over the basin, the weight of her body resting on her pale hands. 'And we wish to set the world to rights, to give you a second chance to have what was promised you."
Thennil wrinkled her eyebrow, 'But...I'm dead."
Manwe huffed, rolling his eyes. 'Not if Namo so declares. Do you really know nothing of your family history?"
She stiffened, 'But, Luthien-I'm not-How?"
"Love,' whispered Yvanna's voice softly, 'Hope."
"Loyalty and Honor,' said Aule from his wife's side.
"Gentleness and peace,' what more could one ask for?' Vaire asked, looking down at her darling.
"Even with those things, why me? What have I done to deserve this?"
The Weaver rested one of her skilled hands under Thennil's chin, 'You sacrificed your life for everything you held dear, having a chance to marry your Aragorn, seeing your people return to their homes, watching a shadowed people blossom again."
"But I could have done more-
"Even the smallest gesture can change the course of history, child,' the Lady smiled.
The other women in the hall gathered around her as she stood upon the lip of the pool. Yvanna pulled something from her robes, and placed it into her hands. It was a cup of the most exquisite make. The base and stem were of the most brilliant silver, an almost white color, which twisted around like a tree. The branches twined together up to the tip of the bowl of the cup, and there were many small blossoms etched into the metal. The bowl of the cup itself was a deep purple-like blue-green, the colors swirling around in a kaleidoscope of color.
"Aule made this for you, as your wedding cup,' the woman said.
She took the cup into her two hands, and looked up at the Lady. 'Thank you."
Varda stepped forward next and kissed her brow. 'And to you I give a another name, Thennil Oriel, daughter of Elrond. You shall be known as Aderia Calaerdis."
If her eyes had been able to water, Thennil's would have been tearing up. To Rise Again From the Shining Sea. What a name. What an honor.
The other women gathered around her, and whispering in a language like that of ancient Queyna touched her head and shoulders.
"Now, into the water with you,' laughed the Queen of the Valar. Thennil turned from them and looked down at the glimmering water below, her bare feet a few inches above the shallowest of the water. Taking a deep breath, she slowly descended into the pool. There was almost an instant reaction, and she felt herself changing, becoming more solid. Wadding deeper into the pool, she began to feel like many sharp needles were stabbing into her feet and ankles, but it wasn't an overly painful feeling, almost like when you've sat on your foot to long and then it starts to regain feeling again. She turned round and round, catching sight of many of her friends, Balin and Ori standing a few feet away from the pool by one of the pillars, many of the vanguard that had been with her during the battle with the Witch King, those who she had known for a short while before they had been slaughtered in the battle on the Pelennor. She smiled sadly at them.
"If I could bring you all with me, I would,' she whispered as the Valar around her joined hands and and the water began to grow in brightness. The water around her rose, encasing her in it's light as it entrapped her. Slowly through water the dark halls of Mandos faded away, and she realized that she was surrounded in a soft white light, like that of a new dawn upon the sea. Then she was rushing, rushing up through the liquid, which she could surprisingly breathe in without inhaling it, until she felt herself come to the surface. Then there was a golden light that sparkled around her as she rose out of the water, breathing her first breath of air.
Her eyes were closed as she did so, and in her mind she heard the voice of Mandos, 'I have returned something to you, child, which was lost to you. Guard it with your heart.' Said the Valar ominously, and before she could open her mouth to ask what it was, she felt herself being pulled away as his voice whispered in her ear. 'Live long under the stars, child."
Opening her eyes, the strange words of the Valar were pushed to the back of her mind as she gasped at the amount of people standing on the seashore, staring at her. She laughed, running out of the water, gown swirling around her ankles as she danced joyously. She was swept up into the arms of her brother's, who clasped her tightly to their chests, barely allowing her to breath as they held her close. Only after her sister had pried her out of their arms for a kiss and lung crushing hug was she able to glance around, her eyes settling on her father. He looked older. Even for an Elf who does not age, she could see the miniscual lines around his eyes, and the weary look in his eyes. Stepping out from among her siblings, she took a few steps towards him.
"Ada?"
There had been only a few times that she had seen her father run, and this was one of those times. His gentle arms threw themselves around her shoulders, crushing her to his breast. She felt his tears fall into her hair as he wept openly, whispering words that even she could not hear. Finally withdrawing, he held her at arms length, smiling tearily.
"You're alive."
She sniffed, chuckling while wiping away her own tears. "I would hope so, lest Grandmother think you are going mad."
He laughed, long and deep, unlike anything she had heard from him in a long time. 'I think she would say it was a foolish thing for your mother to fall in love with me."
She hugged him again, looking up into his eyes, suddenly serious. 'And Aragorn?"
Her father's smile faded.
"What happened?"
"It is hard to say, Thennil. He holds on like a man drowning, but your brothers say it is like he was slipping away, like your mother,' he stated softly, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"But-how is that possible? He is no elf," she wondered.
He looked down at her, signature eyebrow raised in question, 'What do you think?"
"But-how did you know-When is his coronation?"
Very short, I know, and it might be disappointing.
"I think I am quite ready for another adventure." -Bilbo Baggins
"Above all shadows, there is a Sun." -Tolkien
And here is the summary for my next book:
A princess. A curse. And death. Who would have thought that the life of a princess could be so wonderful, but so unfulfilling. So lonely. Once she lived out in the darkness, all alone. Left out there to brave the world alone. Everything seemed quite hopeless, no chance of breaking free from the chains keeping her down. It was so hard to hear the song singing inside of her. How far will she go?
The Princess panted. Sweat beaded upon her brow and her clothes were drenched as she heaved and pushed. She had labored here in this bed for many long hours, praying that her child would come sooner.
"A boy, m'lady, and such a head of hair on him too,' she laughed, using a corner of the cloth to wipe the blood from his red face.
A tear slipped from her eye, and she looked up at him, 'I know it's selfish, but I wish he had been a girl."
"'That's just it. There will be no more babies. "
"What ails thee, child?" came a scratchy voice from her elbow.
"How could you know that somethings ails me?' she accused.
"Why, it's written all over your face,' cackled the old woman.
"Hehehe, and there are ways,' chortled the woman under her breath.
"It is a dangerous way-
"I don't care what it costs, tell me! Tell me how this might come to pass!'
"A drop of blood,' the woman laughed.
"All magic comes with a price."
"It's a girl, m'lady, a beautiful girl!' cried Marta with false joy, pushing aside her worries for the moment. 'Look she's even got a thick thatch of hair already, curly to like Amrothos' when he was born."
Elphir groaned, rolling his eyes heavenward, 'She's the only baby you've see besides Urther, and he was fat and wrinkly, obviously she's the prettiest."
He shrugged, 'I'll still probably punch them, she's my little sister after all."
"Lorelei?"
"No. NO. NO!' he wept, cradling her to his chest as he traced her face with his thick fingers. 'You can't go, my seastar, by darling. I need you!' he finished in a hushed whisper, tears slipping down to mingle with his beard.
In the nursery, lying in her cradle, the baby whimpered, a small cry piercing the air before a shadow moved over the cradle.
The witch cackled, and snatched her hand down, grabbing something that no human eye could see.
"As silent as a rose,
More subtle than the breeze,
Beyond the beauty of the swan,
Unspoken till the wanderer returns,
And the crownless king."
