Epilogue
What is (not) written in the books
Two years later
Noerwen sat on the bench in front of the house, a bowl of pea pods beside her. It was a mild evening and the sun stood low behind the trees. She was alone; Damrod had left for Minas Tirith, to greet King Éomer and escort him to the wedding of his nephew.
She lifted the bowl into her lap, took a small knife and began to slice the pods open. Her daughter's room on the first floor had been empty for weeks. Right now Lírulin was in Emyn Arnen, patiently going through the last fittings of her spectacular wedding dress. This time it had not been modified with a few stitches and darts, but custom-made, only to be worn on her special day... and perhaps by yet another young woman in the future, if she ever had a daughter.
The preparations for this feast had been at least twice as complicated and exhausting as those for the ball, two years ago. Tomorrow Noerwen would dress in her own, festive robes, and she would spend at least three days in the company of the assembled nobility of Gondor. Lord Angbor of Lamedon was among the guests, by the way, but he had wisely refrained from being accompanied by his wife and daughter. Instead he had promised to bring a dozen bushes from his famous rose garden; they were a special breed, without any thorns.
Noerwen grinned at the thought while her hands found the familiar rhythm, emptying the fresh, green peas into the bowl and flinging the pods into a bucket beside her knee. These were the habits that really formed her life in Middle Earth... caring for those she loved and those in need, healing where she could and sometimes finding the deepest joy in the most simple things.
"Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, Noerwen," a musical voice said from somewhere close, and she nearly dropped the bowl.
She looked up. Two figures were standing on the lawn; one of them clad in grey and green. He still wore the cloak given to him by Galadriel, nearly thirty years ago. The delicate leaf-shaped brooch shimmered in the warm evening haze, but not as deep and radiant as the light in the Elven prince's eyes, and his face was as youthful as ever.
"Welcome, Lord Legolas!" She reached out and took his slender hands. "And may the blessing of the Valar be with you wherever your path is leading."
"This time it led me to the Glittering Caves," Legolas said with a smile. "Gimli sends you and your daughter his best wishes. He asked me to forward his hope that the rocks beneath your feet shall never shake and the walls of your house never crumble."
"Very uplifting," Noerwen retorted merrily. "I take it that his wondrous realm is still flourishing?"
"It is," Legolas said, "as far as such a thing can be said about a place that is mainly made of stone. Oh, and Noerwen... I brought someone with me who came here to visit our new settlement. He will meet with my lore master after Elboron's wedding, and he asked me if he might see you, too."
Now she finally focused on the other man who was patiently waiting a little apart, obviously not trying to disturb the reunion of two old friends.
"Forgive me." She dropped a polite curtsy. "Every guest of Lord Legolas' is welcome in my house. My name is Noerwen."
He bowed in return. "I'm very pleased, My lady Noerwen," he said. "I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time, and I am very glad that I finally have the chance."
He had a deep, gravelly voice, and and his speech was a little slurred, but not like that of a drunkard; more as if too many words were pushing each other to the fore, and some of them got lost along the way. Under a long, dark cloak with a big hood, he wore comfortable, loose trousers, a shirt with a stand-up collar and a beautiful waistcoat, embroidered with flowers and leaves – almost like a hobbit, Noerwen thought. She studied his face and saw the features of a man steering placidly towards age, his hair more grey than blonde and trimmed unusually short, his eyes bright and humorous under impressive brows. He reminded her strongly of someone, but right now she was at a loss.
"If I may introduce myself?" he said. "In these lands, people know me as the Pengolodh. – My lady Noerwen? Are you unwell?"
She stepped back on shaking legs, bumped against the bench and sank down on it.
"I never felt any better," she whispered, "thank you very much. I, too, am glad to meet you. Very glad indeed."
She took a deep, steadying breath.
And please- just call me Noerwen."
vvvvv
She never knew if she rued the fact that Damrod was not at home when the Pengolodh paid her a visit; a part of her fervently wished he could have witnessed such a miraculous meeting of two worlds, another one – much more selfish – simply decided to enjoy and accept it as an incomparable gift. Legolas listened to them for a while, then he excused himself and retired into her gardens – his personal way to shake off the tension of a long journey and to gain new strength.
Given what she knew about her guest and his general intercourse with women, she expected him to be reserved and awkward in her presence, but surprisingly enough he was rather relaxed. Perhaps it was Middle Earth that changed him as much as it had changed her, but he obviously enjoyed her company. She went inside and brought refreshments; bread, homemade cheese, beer and wine. They ate and then sat side by side on the bench until it grew cold and they moved into the house.
He showered her with countless questions, and she answered them as well as she could, awed and thrilled by the fact that she was talking to the chronicler of Arda, and that some details might actually find their way into books yet to be written. She spoke about her time in the Houses of Healing and told him about her life in Ithilien, though she kept the love story with Damrod to herself. Still, he took a friendly interest in her family, especially in Lírulin.
"I have a daughter, too," he said. "She's a wonderful girl; you would like her." He hesitated. "And I wish you could meet my wife."
"That would be lovely," she agreed with a smile. "But first I'd have to return with you into your world and your time... and for me, there is no way back."
It was past midnight when they reached that point; until then, they had silently agreed to avoid the sensitive matter. But now, warmed by company, wine and the rare closeness that had arisen between two strangers in only in a few hours, she finally dared to ask a question she had been mulling over for years.
"Tell me," she said, studying his face in the flickering candlelight. "Is it easier to come here – or to go back?"
For a long while, he was silent. "It depends," he slowly said and made a gesture she had seen a few times before: his hand slipped absentmindedly into his waist-pocket, then he shot her a doubtful gaze and pulled it out again.
"On what?"
"On the circumstances," he replied, frowning slightly. "I love my wife and my family, I'm a scholar, doing the work I always dreamt of doing, but there are moments when I find myself yearning to stay here, under those different stars... just me and the legends this world is able to tell me. Does that make any sense?"
"Absolutely," she said, "but you still have your roots – there. My home is here now. You know, I had to go back for two years, and that was the most miserable time of my life... aside from the fact that the crossing nearly drove me mad."
The Pengolodh looked at her thoughtfully.
"My fear was never to grow mad," he finally answered. "I was afraid to get lost between the worlds... and sometimes I think I am."
Again his hand slipped into the pocket of the lovely waistcoat – and now it dawned on her.
"Would you do me a favor?" she asked.
He shot her a surprised gaze. "What ever you want," he said with a warm smile. "Especially after this wonderful evening."
"It still is wonderful," she replied, reaching out. "Just take your pipe finally out of the pocket and let me stuff it for you. There's a bag of Longbottom Leaf left from Merry Brandybuck's last package."
The impressive eyebrows shot upwards. "How did you know?"
"I should know that gesture by now," she smiled, "from my husband. You see, I'm married to a man who enjoys a pipe now and then... like his King. And like you."
vvvvv
She retired soon after, though it was the last thing she wanted; she would have gladly spent the rest of the night in his company, but she knew that she had to survive a noble wedding the very next day. The Pengolodh politely wrapped himself into his cloak and went outside to sit on the bench again. When she bade him good night, his head was surrounded by an aromatic cloud of pipe smoke.
"Sleep well, Noerwen," he said, "Thank you for your hospitality – and for your candor."
"It was my pleasure and my privilege," she assured him. I would not know anything about this world, if not for you. I owe you more than you'll ever owe me. Sleep well, and if you think you are too tired to wander through the night with an Elven prince, feel free to use my guest room. First floor, last door to the right, and the bed is already made."
Without thinking, Noerwen leaned in and embraced him; after a startled second of hesitation, he did the same, and she felt the short, chaste touch of his lips on her cheek.
She entered the house, closed the door behind her and went upstairs. The curtains were shut, but the window stood open to the cool night air. While she slipped into her night gown, she could still smell the sweet scent of tobacco and hear him speak; he murmured unintelligible fragments in Sindarin and Quenya.
Then came something she understood surprisingly clear: "In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring..." and suddenly there was Legolas, too, laughing first, then humming softly and finally singing, with a voice so beautiful that it pierced her heart. "Ah! The light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!"
She closed her eyes and slept, and in her dream she walked hand in hand with Damrod under the shadow of Elvish trees with leaves that sighed in the cool breeze, surrounded by the red and golden glory of Autumn.
FINIS
Author's Notes:
The "settlement" Legolas mentions was founded by himself. He brought Elves from Eryn Lasgalen (Mirkwood) to Ithilien and helped to restore the Garden of Gondor.
The song Legolas sings was first sung by Treebeard in "The Two Towers", when he told Merry and Pippin about his love for the trees. Here is the full text:
In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring.
Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nan-tasarion!
And I said that was good.
I wandered in Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!
And I thought that was best.
To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.
To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the Winter.
Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter upon Orod-na-Thôn!
My voice went up and sang in the sky.
And now all those lands lie under wave.
And I walk in Ambaróna, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë.
In my own land, in the country of Fangorn
Where the roots are long,
And the years lie thicker than the leaves
In Tauremornalómë.
