IMPORTANT:

Just a short note before you get started. Due to my recent research I have discovered that it is tantamount to sacrilege for an Elf to take the name of any other being as their own. This said I have changed the following: Arien - Árenne. Sadly there has been no change on the ownership of the genius-ness that is Middle Earth; it still belongs to Tolkien and no one else…

The story so far:

Arien is the Maia of the sun and appears in this story on a daily basis, though un-credited. Aria is the modern-day alias of the elleth Árenne whose husband Beriol died when they, along with her friend Amy, fell 6,000 years into the past and landed on the doorstep of the Last Homely House. Mr. Edward Williams is an Elf named Faereb who was/is/will be working with Aria/Árenne, Beriol and several as-yet-unnamed others on a mysterious quest the Valar assigned 4,000 years after the War of the Ring.

Wow… time travel sounds so confusing when you write it down like that… Anywho!

"English speech."

Thoughts, any language.

"Elvish speech (specifically, Sindarin)."

/Mind speech: -emotions- images /

Chapter 9 – Good Grief

After the funeral Arwen gently shepherded the girls back down to the House and into an upstairs room that was to be their quarters for the rest of their stay. It had two individual beds along adjacent walls, a wardrobe, a fireplace with a small sitting area, and a desk under a large window that overlooked the kitchen gardens. Their packs had been placed just inside the door along with their cloaks.

"Your clothes have been laundered and shall be returned to you when they are dry." Arwen explained when the widow seemed the most coherent. "There are chamber pots under the beds if you need them and night clothes in the wardrobe. Sáranéssa shall attend you first thing in the morning and show you the way to the dining hall. My room is the third on the left if you need anything tonight."

Aria nodded vaguely and sat on the bed. Sensing that she probably wouldn't be able to translate anything, Arwen took Amy's hand and pulled her out into the hallway. Counting three doors down the left side she opened it and pointed inside. "Nin." She pointed to herself. "Im sí." She pointed back into the room.

"I get it." Amy said, stifling a yawn. "This is your room. Arwen here," she pointed at the door, "Amy and Aria there," she pointed back down the hall. Arwen smiled. "Thanks. Le hannon. Good night." She waved, stifling another yawn as she turned to go back to her room.

"Oltho vae." Arwen murmured watching until Amy was safely shut away before entering her room to follow her own wish to 'dream well.'

oOo

The next morning was relatively quiet, Amy being preoccupied with unpacking and exploring the room and Aria just kind of staring out into space. Sáranéssa curled up with a book by the unlit fireplace and pretended to read while surreptitiously observing the strangers. Arwen arrived after lunch with a few more of her older dresses and a basket of sewing supplies, having been notified earlier by her cohort that with two rather interesting exceptions the guests' clothes were somewhat embarrassing.

Having seen what they arrived in, neither elleth was surprised to find more of the same in their packs, but the point was to try to smooth the transition and earn their trust. What better way to do that than to offer them suitable clothing? Really, what girl can resist the idea of new clothes? So after a rather interesting conversation where Amy was introduced to many new words it was decided that Aria would get the blue velvet and the frothy-looking light pink dress that looked very ancient-Greek-with-sleeves, neither of which needed adjustments, oddly enough. Amy was left with the brown and tan cotton dress and the copperish counterpart to the pink thing. Her dresses did need adjustments, though, so the afternoon was spent taking up hems and adding extra panels to the bodices. Female elves tend to be flat-chested but Arwen was somewhat more endowed, what with her human blood and all, so it wasn't that much of a chore to add a few more inches to her dresses.

The afternoon passed a bit quicker than before and the ellith learned a lot about the strangers, or at least Amy. Aria often deflected their questions by simply translating them to her friend and judiciously editing her replies. If their hosts picked up on this little habit, they didn't say anything.

When the tasks were complete Arwen took the newly refurbished dresses and hung them in the wardrobe only to find something unexpected.

"Where did these come from?" she asked, holding up the green and maroon costume dresses that Amy had hung up that morning.

"They were for Amy's birthday party." Aria said quietly.

"Why did you not show them to us before? They are beautiful."

"I did not think—we only brought them because he—" she looked away, unable to speak.

"I did not mean to cause you pain, Árenne. You do not have to wear them if you do not wish." Arwen placed the dresses back in the wardrobe and closed it firmly. "Come! It is almost time for dinner. We should make our way to the hall."

oOo

Amy had already blown out the candle and snuggled under the covers. She was tired but her mind refused to rest until she had the answer to something that had been bugging her for the last few days. Tentatively she called out into the darkened room.

"Ri?"

"Hmm?"

"What was his name?"

Aria rolled over to get a better look at her friend whose bed was at a right angle to hers. With only starlight filtering in through the window she could still discern Amy's shadowed form; lying on her side, she was steadily looking back at the grieving widow. After a few moments of fighting for composure Aria responded: "Beriol."

"That's a –yawn- nice name."

"I think so."

"What does it mean?"

Pause. "Instrument of Protection."

"He sure lived up to his name... what language is it?"

Another pause. "Sindarin."

"Wow!"

Silence.

"Ri?"

"Yeah?"

"Was he an elf?"

Heavy sigh. "Yeah."

"Did he -yawn- teach you?"

"Teach me what?"

"To speak Elvish?"

"No."

"You knew it already?"

"Yes."

"Oh. -yawn- Who taught you?"

"My parents."

"Who taught them?"

"Their parents."

"Who—"

"Their parents before them, and their parents before them, all the way back to the beginning when they first awoke under the brand new stars and learned that they could speak at all. Happy?"

"Yeah... So… -yawn- Wait! Does that mean… umm… are you…?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

"Amy?"

"Yeah?"

"Go to sleep."

"'kay. -yawn- 'night."

oOo

Just before dawn Aria was startled from her reverie when Amy started thrashing around in her bed. Suddenly the girl snorted, sat straight up, exclaimed, "Holy crap, you're an Elf!" blinked, and then fell back asleep.

No one could figure out why the quiet new widow would randomly burst out laughing for no reason at all over the next few days…

oOo

One week to the day after the funeral, Aria asked to be taken back to the grave site. Thinking that it would do her some good to be out of doors, Arwen arranged a picnic lunch for the four of them and they made a day of it.

Sáranéssa laid out the blanket several yards away from the oak tree and Amy unpacked the food. After lunch the two of them walked around the meadow practicing old words and learning new ones. Cyermanto had mentioned that it was easy to conceal ill intent when no one understands the words you use, so the elleth had decided to learn Amy's language as she helped Amy learn hers. It was a bit awkward to do so without letting the girl know that that was what she was doing, plus Amy had the advantage of her wordlists and grammar guides from the internet, but the elleth had a good memory and she was catching on.

Arwen stayed on the blanket under the shade, her silver needle flashing in and out of some black cloth she had brought along. From her vantage point she could see the two would-be linguists trading names of flowers and colors and anything else they saw as well as Aria, sitting under the oak tree, stroking the bark of his roots and talking quietly.

They stayed like that until the sun slipped far into the west and the light began to fade. A bell rang down the hill, the Last Homely House calling its residents in to eat. The ellith packed up the basket and Amy walked over to gather her friend.

"Aria. It's time to go."

"I can't"

"Yes you can. Come on, get up."

"No! I can't do it any more."

"Do what?" Amy asked, plopping to the ground next to her friend.

"I can't. I just can't!" she yelled, finally giving in to the tears that she had denied during the past week.

"Hey," Amy soothed, pulling her into a hug, "you don't have to. Go ahead. Let it out. It's okay."

The ellith were finished with the picnic things and Sáranéssa was already lugging it downhill, but Arwen came to enquire about the delay and found Aria sobbing uncontrollably on her friend's shoulder. She locked eyes with Amy and pointed towards the House, Amy nodded so she headed back to give them some privacy.

oOo

"Arintiris, have you seen your niece?"

"No, Arwen, is she not with you?"

"I have not seen her since dinner was completed. It may be that she went back to check on our guests. Would you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Would you take some blankets up to the glen? Árenne has finally allowed herself to grieve and her friend stayed to comfort her. They were not able to attend dinner and it has gotten rather chilly since the sun went down; I rather doubt that Árenne would notice, but her young friend is more susceptible to the temperature change. And tell Sáranéssa that I wish to speak with her when she is available."

"It shall be done."

"Thank you."

oOo

Everything was quiet as Amy sat with her back against the ancient root, legs stretched out before her. Aria was curled up on the ground next to her with her head in Amy's lap; she had cried herself to sleep still clinging to her friend's hand. Gently Amy stroked the grief-stricken widow's hair and looked up at the bejeweled sky.

"I had never even met him before that night, you know." She said to the Presence beyond the stars. "I didn't even know that she was married, but then again, I didn't know that Elves were real, either. Well, I kind of wished it, but I never let myself actually believe." Amy smiled, sadly. "It is strange, though. I would have called her my best friend, even only knowing her for a few years, but this is the deepest thing that I have ever shared with her. It is like her grief is some palpable thing, throbbing there between us… I just want to take it away, or at least, break it up so that she doesn't have to deal with it alone. Ah, but you know that feeling, too.

"You are no stranger to sorrows. I have to remind myself that you have been dealing with depths of Elvin grief for far longer than I have. Please, Father, ease hers. I—I don't want to be alone either… I know, I know, that is selfish of me… Still, I don't know what would be worse, her dying of grief right now or lingering on as a shadow of her former self? At least if she left now, she would be happy… my grief would not run nearly as deep, I think. Oh, I don't know!" A tear slid down her cheek and landed with a splash on her dress.

Arintiris sat on a wide branch of the oak tree that jutted out into the clearing. From his perch he could clearly see the fresh grave and the last two mourners seated beside it. His keen ears picked up the steady breathing of the dreaming elleth and the mortal maid's soliloquy to the stars, even if he couldn't understand it. His sharp eyes noticed the single teardrop that fell unchecked and the way that her head bent forward in the silence. What he didn't find was any evidence of his sister and that worried him. He felt for the blankets that he had brought. When he was sure that the girl was asleep, he would climb down and drape them over the pair. Just as he was about to begin his descent the girl stirred and he froze.

Leaning her head back on the tree root behind her, Amy looked up into the sky once more. Having run through every argument she could think of, she had come to one conclusion, over and over again. "Oh God," her voice became ragged and trailed off. "You are the only One who can see all ends. You decide!"

/-Joy!- / the old tree exulted, almost startling the Elf out of its branches.

"You understand her?" He queried softly, gripping the bark a little tighter than was necessary.

/-rightness- an image of a golden ribbon flowing from Amy to the heavens -reverence- a white ribbon flowing from the heavens to every living creature -hope- a green ribbon wrapped in white flowing from the tree to Amy and a golden ribbon wrapped in white flowed back to the tree /

"What did she say?" He leaned forward to study her closer.

/-confidence- an image of intense brightness -holy awe- /

"Oh?"

/-fear- an image of Aria dead -loneliness- Amy standing over two graves/ a pause /-concern- an image of a pale Aria sobbing contrasted with an image of Aria and Beriol together in brightness -puzzlement- / another pause /- confidence- an image of intense brightness -holy awe- /

"I am not quite sure that I understand."

/-holy awe mixed with intense longing- an image of Amy bowing to the brightness -intense satisfaction- /

"But—"

/-eagerness!- a picture of Amy /

And from the tired, tearstained lips of the mortal maid below rose a melody, hauntingly sweet. Voice cracked with grief and unshed tears, broken yet confident, she poured her whole heart into the half-whispered song. Unnoticed by her, a lone Elf sitting in the branches above bent forward to catch the words of pure faith that she sent winging up to the brightly shining stars above.

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way/

When sorrows like sea billows roll; /

Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say/

It is well, it is well with my soul. /

It is well / with my soul/

It is well/ it is well with my soul.

"Though Satan should buffet, tho trials should come/

Let this blest assurance control/

That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate/

And hath shed his own blood for my soul. /

It is well / with my soul/

It is well/ it is well with my soul.

"My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought/

My sin not in part, but in whole /

Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more/

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul/

It is well / with my soul/

It is well/ it is well with my soul.

"And, Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight/

The clouds be roll'd back as a scroll/

The trump shall re-sound and the Lord shall descend/

"Even so," it is well with my soul. /

It is well / with my soul/

It is well/ it is well with my soul."

oOo

When Sáranéssa stepped into the glen an hour later she never noticed the odd shadow in the oak boughs. Walking straight to the blanket draped pair she roused Amy and between the two of them they carried Aria back to the House. A few minutes later Arintiris dropped lightly to the ground and stalked after them.

It Is Well with My Soul

Words by Horatio G. Spafford, 1873, music by Philip P. Bliss, 1876

(Ah! The wonders of the Public Domain!)

A/N:

Me and my big mouth! As soon as I say that I will try to keep the posting relatively constant, I get caught up in a situation that keeps me from posting for a month! Note to self: don't make promises in the future…

Sooo… about this chapter… There is no evidence that anyone could speak words directly into the mind of another, Elf or Man, much less the plant-life. If they couldn't do it with the palantíri, how would they do it without them?

Still, if the Elves did communicate with the trees of the Fangorn forest, "waking them up, teaching them to speak" (as Legolas said in TTT) I suppose it means that the trees could communicate after a fashion. I postulate that the trees would therefore communicate as the Elves did, by projecting emotions and images rather than words. If this is extremely confusing for you, PM me and I will send you an English translation of the conversation between Arintiris and the oak tree. Okay?

As always, thank you to those who have been reading the story up until this point and special thanks to sendmerainstorms, Frodo's girl, and Pechethu for reviewing!

Speaking of reviewing: What do you all think of the developments in this chapter? No objections from the canon community, I hope…

And I have one question: iffen I was going to bribe the readers some time in the future what would the readers be most receptive to being bribed with…? Umm, yeah.

Iell Eruo