Author's Note
Hello, Hello!
Here is a simple musing of mine that I have put to paper (rather, computer) for (hopefully) your enjoyment!
I suppose I require a DISCLAIMER so here it is:
I own nothing related to any of Tolkein's fabulous works. I own Dolledhiel and Marilla and that is all! I am not making any profit from this work; it is purely for the enjoyment of anyone who cares to read it.
Enjoy, leave a review and for GOD SAKES tell me of any spelling errors!
Happy Trails,
Eschatological
Chapter One
Two beings stood at the water's edge peering into the depths of the stream, here and there glimpsing minnows of many colours flit among the crevices of their watery home. Both were resting in amiable silence, occasionally seeming to smile at one another. Together for many years, these two had a stronger bond that most of us mere mortals can dream of, for they could speak mind to mind. One was a small woman. One was a small mare.
'Darling, we should go back home now. I need to feed the other horses.' remarked the young lady Marilla to her companion. She received no reply from the horse, only an eye-roll and an impatient huff of the nostrils.
'Yes, I know the other horses are far beneath such a fine specimen as you. However, while you may be more than capable of caring for yourself, your stablemates depend on me for their dinner. We will come back here again, meleth nin.'
Pricking her ears at the praise Marilla bestowed on her, Dolledhiel rubbed her nose in the hand she was offered, nibbling daintily at the carrot resting there.
'Flattery will get you nowhere, Marilla. Carrots, however…' Dolledhiel munched happily.
Marilla leapt lightly onto Dolledhiel's bare back and the two made their way back to the homestead at an easy trot. Reaching an open field, Marilla leaned forward and whispered a single word to her mount, 'Sûl!' and the mare gathered her feet beneath her and galloped as if she were racing the earth itself. Feeling the wind through her hair, the young woman laughed aloud, joining with the thundering percussion of the mare's hooves to create an altogether unique symphony.
Upon returning to Menel-Ando Farm, Marilla quickly brushed Dolledhiel, scratching particularly vigorously in her favourite spot, her belly button. Kissing her nose, Marilla bustled around the barn, dishing out hay and grain to the thirty horses residing there.
While marking a few changes to the feed inventory, Marilla heard a mild commotion in the barn.
'Dolledhiel is the prettiest horse I've ever seen!' piped a small voice.
'She must be the queen of all the horses!' another added in.
'I love you, Dollie!' cooed the first child.
'She's so smart! And she has the prettiest rider too.' A third voice supplied.
'It is so tiresome being admired by all these obnoxious human foals, Marilla.'
'Oh, you insolent mare, you know you like it. You're only encouraging them with all that batting of your eyelashes and nuzzling them, you know.'
'Well now! I did no such thing' replied the horse as she blew affectionately in the ear of the nearest little girl, eliciting squeals and giggles from the children.
Chuckling to herself, Marilla greeted her first group of students for the evening, helping them prepare their ponies for the lesson. A few hours later, once all the children were sent home with their parents and the horses had been settled down for the night, Marilla made her way to the farmhouse that she shared with her dear friend and business partner, Irene.
Irene was sitting on the sofa curled in a blanket reading a book. Her dog, Coal was sprawled at her feet, snoring. Smiling at the scene before her, Marilla silently approached and kissed Irene on the top of her head before sitting down on the couch with her. Coal snorted, rolled over and ignored the happenings of the world, as usual.
'How was your day, beloved?' Marilla inquired.
'Rather uneventful, I'm afraid. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was bored to tears. Entirely… oh… well, I've run out of words to express my boredom.' Irene babbled, not making eye contact with her friend.
'What are you hiding, mellon nin? I daresay I know you better then that.'
Smiling sheepishly, Irene slowly uncovered her left hand from under her book and showed it to Marilla.
'Alae! Im gelir an le! No in elenath hîlar nan hâd gîn!'
I am so happy for you! May all the stars shine upon your path.
'Marilla, you know I cannot understand you when you ramble in that language of yours. Speak English please, dear heart.'
'Forgive me meleth! I am thrilled to hear of your engagement to Fernando. When did this happen? How? Where? Tell me everything!'
The two friends stayed up until the early hours of the morning talking about wedding details, romantic ideas and love. They laughed together until the sun was just starting to appear on the horizon, sending waves of rose and orange across the morning, lighting up their beloved farm. When Irene had finally fallen to sleep, Marilla kissed her forehead before going to visit Dolledhiel, leaving a note on the table to her dearest friend. She quickly showered and dressed in breeches, a polo shirt and tall riding boots, pausing to examine her reflection in the mirror.
Marilla sighed. She did not look like anyone else she knew. She was small, no taller then most of her 12-year old students. She was often mistaken for a child until folks got a better look at what was clearly an adult body in addition to a wisdom and sadness within her features that does not exist in the faces of children. Her hair was curly, so dark to almost be black and descended well beyond her shoulders. Pale skin, fey arched brows and high cheekbones contributed to an ethereal, almost otherworldly beauty about the young woman. Her eyes, however, often drew a second glance from people seeing her for the first time. Wide and framed with long lashes, Marilla had one eye of deepest sapphire and one eye of brilliant, forest green. Marilla was not displeased with her appearance; indeed, it mattered very little to her. However, she preferred to blend in. Her appearance simply made this rather difficult.
'We are training cross-country today, Doll!' Marilla stated to her mare.
'Oh! I Anor hílol, Marilla. It is a beautiful day for cross-country.' The mare licked her lips happily, anticipating the day's adventure.
The sun is shining, Marilla.
The pair made their way through the forest, stopping for a moment by their favourite stream. Dolledhiel began to splash in the water, drinking in the cool, crisp refreshment. Smiling at her mare acting as if she was a filly once again, Marilla gradually descended deep into her own thoughts.
Menel-Ando Farm used to be owned by her father, Andrew. The farm had been in the family for generations, and after Andrew died, Marilla inherited the well-established business. Andrew had caused many changes to the farm for the better, using kind methods to train the horses, rather than the harsh, unrefined 'breaking horses' that his forefathers practiced. Horses at Menel-Ando were bred and trained for Three-Day Eventing, which Marilla and Dolledhiel showed regularly at the elite levels of competition, despite the mare's small stature. Horses were happy and well-cared for; they truly enjoyed their jobs whether it be lesson horse or competition mount.
Andrew had died of what he himself called a broken heart when Marilla was eighteen. He had waited until Marilla was old enough to take care of herself and Menel-Ando until he allowed himself to succumb to the loneliness he felt from the loss of his wife and soul mate. He was an excellent father and Marilla loved him and still pined daily for him, five years later. He had taught her about horses and how to treat the entire earth responsibly and kindly. He instilled in his daughter a desire for learning and an empathy for those around her. A typical American cowboy, Andrew had still taken the time to teach his young daughter her mother's language, keeping her legacy alive.
Marilla's mother had died when her small daughter was but three years old. The only memory of her mother that Marilla still possessed was being held by small hands that were much stronger then they seemed. Looking up, she saw a face, but could not determine specific features; the memory was simply too hazy. The lady was singing a song in a clear, soft voice.
Ú i vethed nâ i onnad.
Si boe ú-dhanna.
Ae ú-esteli, esteliach nad.
Estelio han, estelio han.
Estelio!
Estelio han.
Estelio veleth.
This is not the end, it is the beginning.
You cannot falter now.
If you don't trust this, trust nothing else.
Trust this, trust this.
Trust!
Trust this.
Trust love.
Dolledhiel approached Marilla where she was sitting with her back against a young willow tree, looking up though the branches to the wispy clouds overhead. The young woman's lips were moving, and Dolledhiel could hear the words that she was forming within her mind. Gradually, the lip movements turned to coherent words, then to sweet music. Marilla rose slowly and hugged her mare's neck, singing the song she had learned from her mother many years ago. Concerned, the horse nuzzled her human, seeking to give comfort as she felt Marilla's sadness.
'Im maer, Dolledhiel. Gen hannon, mellon nin.' Marilla consoled the mare. 'Do not worry, I have not forgotten about our cross country adventure! Are you ready?'
I am well, Dolledhiel. I thank you, my friend.
The mare bobbed her head vigorously and the two friends continued on their way, looking forward to the day ahead.