Rating/Warning: K. None. Although it's kind of sad I guess...
Time frame: the last year of the Third Age, shortly before the Ringbearers set sail. The Elves are crossing through the Old Forest on their way to the Shire, where they met Frodo, Bilbo, and company.
A/N: Well...I'm honestly not entirely sure what to make of this chapter. First of all, writing Tom Bombadil terrifies me, so there's that. And also, I'm not entirely sure that this headcanon is completely 100% cemented yet. It's possible it'll change. Probable it'll change at least some. Possible it'll disappear. We'll see. I like it in and of itself though, so I'm keeping it. Oh yes, and Iarwain Ben-adar is Tom Bombadil's Elvish name.
And...okay I just can't hold it in. YOU GUYS ARE SO AMAZING AND WONDERFUL! SERIOUSLY! 8 reviews in the last 24 hours is simply stunning and spectacular and thank you all so much! Jabberwocki, Lorinand, Reader, Kellen, Raynagh, and TheHouseWitch, here's to you. I'm still working on personal replies, but they're coming, I promise! To all who have favorited and/or alerted, I'm glad to see that you're enjoying too! To all of you readers and lurkers - I hope you are enjoying as well. And I'd love to hear from you sometime. *grins* Most importantly though, is that you enjoy!
Day 11 – Something about a non-canon relationship
Tom Bombadil and Elrond
Iarwain Ben-adar, or Tom Bombadil as he would come to be known to the Shire folk, was never particularly invested in any affairs but his own. There were, of course, a few exceptions, however for the most part, the odd being who none save perhaps the Maiar and the Valar understood kept to himself, and allowed the events of the world unfold about him. It was not that he did not care for the world, nor even that he was unwilling to involve himself with the world. He simply did not care to meddle.
As mentioned before, there were a few exceptions throughout the ages, and one of those was Elrond.
They met for the first time near to the beginning of the second age, nearly two hundred years before Elrond was named Gil-galad's herald. He and a small escort had been traveling through the land that would later be known as Arthedain, bearing a message from Gil-galad. There they were set upon by an Orc pack mounted upon Wolves – one of the smaller groups that had survived the War of Wrath, and had hidden away so as to not yet have been exterminated.
It was little more than a stroke of luck that saved Elrond from death that day. He was struck in the head with a club, the blow fracturing his skull and leaving him with a dangerous concussion, and he passed almost upon impact. His horse, not knowing what else to do with her rider hanging over the edge of the saddle and just barely still on her back and the Wolves all about, turned and fled, bearing him toward the place of safety that she could sense upon the wind.
That place of safety was a grand and wild forest. It was there that Iarwain Ben-adar found them, Elrond lying motionless upon a bed of thick grass dotted with wildflowers, and his ever-faithful mare standing close to him, grazing.
Iarwain Ben-adar took Elrond home to Goldberry, and together they brought the young Elf back from the cusp of death. Upon awakening, however, Elrond had no recollection of who he was – name, parentage, or any of his past. He remained with Iarwain Ben-adar and Goldberry until his memories returned.
After that, Tom Bombadil appeared at random times in Elrond's life. It was chance, mostly, that would bring them together, but there were a few times in which one would seek out the other – and most often it was Elrond seeking Tom Bombadil. After Rivendell had been founded, Iarwain Ben-adar and Goldberry came to the Valley a few times over the course of an age and a half, making it the only Elven land that they came to willingly, and joyfully.
As to Elrond and Tom Bombadil's relationship…well, it was nearly as difficult to describe as Tom Bombadil himself. They were friends indeed, and in Elrond, Tom Bombadil could draw out the most peculiar, nearly childish side to his personality. And it was said that, when with Elrond, Iarwain Ben-adar would show a respect and care that he granted to few others, as well as a peculiar sort of love.
In the eldest of days, you see, before even the Firstborn had awoken beneath the stars, when the Valar were first come to the land to which they were bound and their servants and followers with them, a young hand-maiden of Estë met a spirit of the world, and the two became friends. And in Elrond, Iarwain Ben-adar saw the blood of Melian, and he cared for the descendant of his old friend.
Of this, however, Elrond had only an inkling. All that he knew was that, when Iarwain Ben-adar would come to him, or him to Iarwain Ben-adar, there was a feyness that took his mind, and his blood ran hot like with none other.
(The Old Forest – T.A. 3021)
The company had halted for the night, and set up camp alongside the Elven road that wound between the mighty trees. Fireflies darted between the trunks, lighting up the dusky blue of the night beneath the leafs and branches of the trees, which masked the stars as they began to appear, blazing forth out of the velvety blue darkness, and the moon alike. The gentle chirrup of crickets and the croak of frogs joined the barely audible wisps of wind, creating a gentle, natural lullaby.
The Elves lifted their voices in song as the moon rose, shedding its crystalline light across the land, and gilding leaf and limb with silver beams, and for long into the night they sang and danced, reveling in this beautiful night – one of the last nights they would spend in Middle-earth, even unto the Breaking of the world. It was their way of expressing their final love for the land, and in saying their farewell.
There were two, however, who did not join in song. Galadriel and Elrond stood together at the edge of the camp, hidden by the shadows beneath the trees, simply watching and listening. At last Elrond turned away and disappeared deeper into the forest, for he yearned for silence and for peace. There was an ache in his heart, a thorn that would not seem to pull free, and the song and sight of the others only served to make it burn all the more.
Wending his way between the trunks, following invisible paths through the shadows lit only by the faintest gleam of moon overhead and the occasional flare of light from a firefly, Elrond meandered deeper into the forest. He had little fear of the trees, even in the darkness of the night, for he knew them, and they knew him – at least, they had known him, so many years ago.
A small brook ran between the trees, glinting silver and blue in the starlight. Elrond sat down upon the grassy bank, crossing his legs, and listening to the chime of the water as it ran smoothly over pebbles and stones. The sound reminded him of his own Imladris, and a pang of loss lanced through his heart.
"Hey ho, I thought that I might find you here." The voice was quiet, and laced with something very near to cheerfulness. Elrond looked up to see Tom Bombadil stepping out from the shadows, and it seemed as if the thick bushes parting for him to pass through undisturbed.
Elrond smiled and stood, turning to the odd little man. "Aiya, Iarwain Ben-adar," he said, bowing at the waist and placing his hand over his heart.
Tom Bombadil laughed lightly, and came to stand beside Elrond. "Greetings to you as well, Elrond," he said. "Come, you should walk with me." With that, he turned and started down along the brook, Elrond following.
"Why have you come?" Elrond asked softly after a long moment of silence, in which they listened to the whisper of the wind and the chirping of the crickets.
"Why, I would have thought that was clear," Tom Bombadil replied. When Elrond did not reply, Iarwain Ben-adar chuckled. "Age has clouded your mind, it would seem," he laughed, but then sobered abruptly and surprisingly. "I have come to say farewell," he said, "for I do not think that you and I shall meet again."
Elrond turned to look at the old man and frowned, then halted. "But…"
"Nay, child," and Elrond noticed a strange look in Iarwain Ben-adar's eyes – it was age, and the weight of thousands of years and endless time. "We shall not meet again, I think, even at the end."
Elrond looked away, a fresh sear of pain of loss opening in his heart. He had known, in his heart that this farewell would one day come. But that did not make this moment any less painful. He felt painfully close to weeping, although his eyes burned dryly. He had not shed a tear for many a year, and he did not intend to do so now.
"Merry dol, hi ho, do not weep, Elrond, for not all is lost and come to ruin. What is your heart telling you?"
"That this Age has ended, and it is my time to depart from this world," Elrond answered. Iarwain Ben-adar shook his head ever so slightly, and the faintest echoes of a whistle fell from his lips. Elrond sighed. "It hurts," Elrond confided at last. "It feels as if it breaks within my chest. I have lived in this land since my birth. I have loved this land, and found love in this land. I have bled, and watched my own bleed and die. My children were born here, and at least one child will die here. But my time here is over – I have fulfilled my duty, and I must go on."
Tom Bombadil waited patiently, a knowing smile on his face. "And…" Elrond hesitated. "My heart yearns for the sea. As much as I will lose, I am ready. She calls to me from a distant shore, and it grows stronger with each passing day." Elrond looked up.
"Aha!" Tom Bombadil cried, and he danced forward to grasp Elrond's shoulders. "So you see, young one, there is still joy in your heart! Love is a healer of all things, given time."
"Yet it still is hard," Elrond said.
"Trolly dol, of course it is," Iarwain Ben-adar retorted, "but that is what makes life worth living. Yet you must not let it pull you down! You hold too fast to this land, Elrond. You must learn to say farewell."
"And how do I do that?" Elrond asked, eyeing the old man.
Tom Bombadil laughed, and then lifted his feet and began a sprightly jig. "Come, dance with me child, one final time.
Elrond was reluctant at first, his heavy heart weighing his feet. Yet slowly first, and then gradually faster, he began to follow Iarwain Ben-adar in the ancient dance. It was the first dance that Tom Bombadil had taught him, all those many, many years ago, when his memories were gone, and he knew not who he was. And that single memory seemed to open a floodgate, until it felt as if the memory of every happy moment, of every dance, of every joy and sorrow was crowding his mind, and he knew not whether to laugh or to weep. And when he and Iarwain Ben-adar at last finished the dance, both panting, Elrond found that, although the pain was still there, it was not quite so crushing as before. He felt at last that leaving the shores would not tear his heart to shredded ribbons.
"And now, it is time, I think, for me to wish you farewell," Tom Bombadil said. He smiled gently at Elrond, and then placed a hand on the Peredhel's shoulder. "It has been a joy to me to know you, child of Melian," he said. "And when you see your first-mother, tell her that the nightingales still sing her name. And now, farewell!"
Tom Bombadil turned and, with a hop he jumped across the brook, and then disappeared into the forest, the shadows swallowing him whole.
"Namárië," Elrond whispered as the rustling of the shadows faded. And Elrond knew that he had seen the last of Iarwain Ben-adar, the oldest and the fatherless.
