To and fro the boughs of the trees waved, their leaves whimsically dancing in the breeze as it passed. A soft hush was over the world, allowing only the murmurs of the babbling stream to sing into the fresh summer air, so rich in the lush aroma of the blossomed flowers. The elvenrefuge of Imladris found a tranquil peace beneath the golden rays of sunlight that gleamed from the rooftops and over the shimmering falls. From beneath the trees that bent over as if to listen, a soft song came, the melodic voice reveling in the serenity about her.
Gilraen, daughter of Dirheal, sang gently into the swaying breeze as it blew through her long locks. In her lap sat a small boy, no more than six, listening intently to her tale.
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid…"
Gleefully he twirled his mother's long tresses in his slender hands, laughing softly as he did so often.
an errand that should never rest
to bear his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse."
As her song drew to a close, the boy leapt up, his small hand taking her delicate fingers within his grasp. "Nana…1 Can we go to the library?"
Gilraen could hardly contain her soft giggle as she watched Estel nearly beaming with joy. "Ay… Ion nin…2 But of course…" The small bridge the sat upon was only a short distance to the great library within Rivendell, though she laughed merely for the fact that they had spent most of the morning there as well. Commonly it was so easy to forget for her on days like this… for everything was at peace.
Finally she began to step from the bridge, the small boy skipping before her. How blissful he is now… I do not even believe he remembers…
It was not the wonder of the day, but more, the absence of the darkness of the past in his blue-gray, fathomless eyes that brought awe to Gilraen as she followed Estel down the path; her mood sullen, yet pleased to be in his company.
The ceaseless radiance that incandesced from his crystalline depths reflected in her eyes as he frolicked gleefully over the smooth garden path. It would have been so easy for the fair widow of Arathorn to surrender to the sorrow within her heart, to let the absence of her beloved, the father of Aragorn, to consume her. But she would not, she had to be strong for their son. Without him it was so hard to wake in the morning, to breathe in the wondrous winds as they gusted through the tapestries that shut out the morning's radiance and whirled through her northward room in the Last Homely House. Condemned to live alone in paradise.
But she gladly took it, she embraced the emptiness that gripped at her heart, and let it push her forward… for Estel.
"Good morn, Lady Gilraen," a soft voice carried through the air, gently greeting her. "And to you, Estel." With a broad, wiry smile, Lord Elrond, Half-elven, Lord of Rivendell, stood in the entrance to the library, his circlet sending refractions of light to dance upon the leaves that scattered themselves upon the earthen path.
Faintly, Gilraen returned the grin. "Good morn, Lord Elrond," she mused as she bowed slightly as she always did in his presence.
Beside her, she felt Estel release her fingers from his slender grasp as he ran to the Elflord, who took him with welcoming arms. "Mae govannen, Estel.3"
"Mae govannen, Ada4."
Inwardly, Gilraen marveled at the joy that the two of them shared. Though Elrond was not Estel's true father, he had gladly taken the empty roll in his life. Both of them knew of Estel, or more, Aragorn's unspoken plight, yet neither of them let it get in the way of embracing the innocent wonder the boy held.
"What have you been doing this fine day?"
As they pulled slightly apart, Elrond's usually stoic expression melted away to a genuine jubilant visage. Likewise, Estel's smile beamed back to him.
"Nana and I have been reading about Earendil," the small boy gleefully informed him. "And she sang me his song about… about…"
With a fleeting glance to Gilraen, who looked on with a soft joy to the two of them, then back to Estel as he softly hushed him. "I am sure you will remember the whole of it in due time, as you always do." Tenderly, he placed his thin, time worn hand upon the boy's slender shoulder. "Elladan and Elrohir are within, and I am sure the would welcome your company."
Anxiously, he turned his gaze to his mother. "May I go?"
"But of course, my Estel," Gilraen told him as she stepped before him.
"Hannon le5, Nana a Ada," Estel graciously tanked them both, embracing each in turn before happily dashing within into the company of Elrond's twin sons.
Elrond and Gilraen watched his fleet steps disappear up the flight of stairs. A brief silence fell between the Elflord and the elegant lady.
Stiffly, Elrond sighed, his intuition reading to Gilraen's deeper thoughts. "I asked Elladan and Elrohir to wait for him," he admitted. "For I know as well as they what importance this day holds… for both of you."
No matter how far she pushed the thought away, it only managed to peruse her consciousness further. Today was the day Arathorn was struck down. So bitterly the remorse nagged at her already weary heart.
"He doesn't know, does he?" the fair Elflord inquired after the boy.
Down the long winding labyrinth of memory she strayed, her gray-blue eyes reflecting her distance. In the abyss of loneliness there was no jubilation, no comfort for her mourning heart. Yet, through the storms that broke upon the walls of her heart, tossing the seas of emotions and crashing the wake of its endless tied over the small vessel of hope that drifted over its quaking waters, she managed to ever-so-slightly shake her head.
"Mourn," he compassionately mused as he took in her distraught gaze. "But do not allow for darkness to take you. Arathorn wished for you to live on, and he would not have you fall away to the shadows of despair. Not while there is hope." Embrace the memories… but do not live in the past…
Far within the wisdom of his keen gaze, Gilraen found the empathy he felt for her. She had come here for Aragorn's safety, for him to be given the means to become who they both knew he was born to be; who Arathorn knew he was born to me. Solemnly, she nodded. "Hannon le, Milord… Your words are a great comfort."
Thoughtfulness turned the corners of his lips. It was not by wisdom alone he had come to know the strength of comfort. "You are always welcome, Lady Gilraen."
The profound relationship between the two of them spoke without words. She owed him everything, and ever would she be grateful for his kindness. He felt a debt to her, the mother of the one who would unite all that laid scattered and the rising opposition to the growing Shadow. Neither spoke too much nor too little as the silence fell gracefully between them like the gentle drift of a silken feather to the earth.
Far above, the sound of rich laughter bounded through the air, muted by the hush of falls and flowing water; the mirth the three brothers shared shattering the seemingly unbreakable quiet. At the sound of their voices, Elrond and Gilraen both turned their gaze towards the doorway, the laughter waning as the soft whispers of their conversing voices replaced it.
"Go, Lord Elrond invited her. "Take what time you need… We will watch after Aragorn."
"Hannon le…" Gilraen mused, bowing slightly as she stepped away to leave. "You have been of great help, Milord."
Sullenly, he nodded. "I am glad to do so."
1Nana. short for Naneth. S. Mother.
2Ion nin. S. My son.
3Mae govannen. S. Well met.
4Ada. short for Adar. S. Father.
5Hannon le. S. Thank you.