Chapter 39 - Praise them with great praise

8th April, 3019 (Third Age)

The vibrant green of the wood parted with all the flair of a theatre's curtain. The break in the trees was trimmed with clear light, for the sun glinted on the bright mail as if the knights who lined the avenue had been bedecked in mithril and diamonds. The midnight black of their tunics was emblazoned with the tree of Gondor, and the company, to a man, stood stately and tall. Hair of deep brown and black fell from beneath the helms of the guard, and grey eyes no longer held the iron hardness of earlier months spent in relentless combat. As a small company moved towards them they bowed and greeted them with honour. One blew a long trumpet, and the entire dazzling contingent moved between the aisle of trees, alongside a singing stream.

A few moments later, they passed from beneath the eaves of the forest and stepped onto a green field. The Anduin beyond was cloaked in a silver haze, forming a soft backdrop to the mighty host assembled upon the Field of Cormallen. The smaller company which had lingered at the edge of the wood were but a hint of the splendour of the army, drawn up in ranks and companies which glittered in the sun. Every soldier had been polished and spruced, and as the honour guard passed between their ranks swords were unsheathed, and spears were shaken, and horns and trumpets sang, and men cried with many voices and in many tongues:

"Long live the Ringbearers! Praise them with great praise!
Cuio i Pheriain anann! Aglar'ni Pheriannath!
Praise them with great praise, Samwise and Gimli!
Daur a Berhael, Conin en Annuˆn! Eglerio!
Praise them!
Eglerio!
A laita te, laita te! Andave laituvalmet!
Praise them!
Cormacolindor, a laita ta´rienna!
Praise them! The Ring-bearers, praise them with great

praise!"

A soft smile crept upon Elanor's face as she observed the two figures who moved forward at the head of the honour guard with red faces and eyes shining in wonder; one broad and squat, and the other slender and childlike. Absently, she squeezed Glorfindel's hand, but was too enchanted to see the tall Elf smile down at her. The lovers stood amidst the other Elves present, flanked by Legolas and Elrond's sons. A small distance away were several Rangers and Aragorn's advisors, looking surprisingly neat and almost foreign without their dull and travel-stained attire. Merry and Pippin also stood with them, erect and bright-eyed in the front rank so they were afforded a good view despite their meagre height. They had been granted a place of honour at the head of the left-hand column, with a clear sight of three high-seats built of green turves.

Elanor continued to watch as Sam and Gimli moved to the centre of the clamorous host and looked in awe at the throne-like seats. Behind the seat upon the right floated, white on green, a great horse running free; upon the left was a banner, silver upon blue, a ship swan-prowed faring on the

sea; but behind the highest throne in the midst of all a great standard was spread in the breeze, and there a white tree flowered upon a sable field beneath a shining crown and seven glittering stars. On the throne sat a mail-clad man, a great sword was laid across his knees, but he wore no helm. As they drew near he rose. And then they knew him, changed as he was, so high and glad of face, kingly, lord of Men, dark-haired with eyes of grey. Elanor chewed her lip, eyes stinging with unforeseen emotion.

Sam ran to meet him, and Gimli followed close behind.

"Well if this isn't the crown of all!" he said. "Strider, or I'm still asleep!"

"Yes, Sam, Strider," said Aragorn. "It is a long way, is it not, from Bree, where you did not like the look of me? A long way for us all, but yours has been the darkest road."

And then to Sam's surprise and utter confusion, he bowed his knee before them; and taking them by the hand, Gimli upon his right and Sam upon his left, he led them to the throne, and setting them upon it, he turned to the men and captains who stood by and spoke, so that his voice rang over all the host, crying:

"Praise them with great praise!"

When the glad shout had swelled up and died away again, Elanor's heart leapt with joy and satisfaction. The highs and lows of days previous had been lost in the excitement of Sam and Gimli's waking, and her selfishness brushed aside in renewed pleasure at the success of their mission. At this time more than any other, Elanor was flooded by hazy memories of Tolkien's novel and the film adaption. Thus, as a minstrel of Gondor stood forth, and knelt, and begged leave to sing, she fidgeted with excitement. And behold! he said:

"Lo! lords and knights and men of valour unashamed, kings and princes, and fair people of Gondor, and Riders of Rohan, and ye of Elrond's house, and Dunedin of the North, and Elf and Dwarf, and great hearts of the Shire, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Samwise of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom."

This pronouncement was met with silence, save that Gimli gave a low chuckle and nudged Sam knowingly. The hobbit went pink to the tips of his pointed ears, and tears glistened upon his cheeks.

And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

Elanor's heart was pressed with conflicting emotion as she stood, tears dampening her cheeks. It felt as if she had striven to separate herself from the fate of Middle-earth since the battle, yet as she looked upon the worn yet happy faces of Sam and Gimli, her spirit melted. It was a day to be joyous and glad, and to celebrate the resilience of the Ringbearers; to honour the sacrifice of the soldiers. They had done better than she had hoped since the news of Frodo's death, and having seen the weariness which lay upon them she found a new appreciation for their toils.

A joyous day.

And at the last, as the Sun fell from the noon and the shadows of the trees lengthened, the minstrel ended. "Praise them with great praise!" he said and knelt. And then Aragorn stood up, and all the host arose, and they passed to pavilions made ready, to eat and drink and make merry while the day lasted.

As the host began to disperse, Glorfindel drew Elanor closer to himself. He slipped one arm about her waist and twirled her in a full rotation as if they danced. Several soldiers stopped to watch, their eyes alight with interest at seeing what appeared to be two Elves in rapture.

"What on earth are you doing?" she laughed softly, as he placed her upon the ground, aware of the stares. She looked up into his face, her lips parted in a blithe smile. Glorfindel's eyes were luminescent with fathomless joy, and he seemed to radiate a clear gold light. With a start, Elanor realised that the day meant more to her fiancé than she could contemplate herself and could not begrudge him the public display of good spirits.

"I faer nîn meren," he replied, planting her feather-light upon the ground. "Come; now is not the time for speech, but for food and drink and dancing!"

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were milling about several paces away, and speaking in light and joyful tones. Georgia stood with them, silent for once as she listened in rapture to their quick speech in the Elven-tongue. Elanor caught a fair number of the words and could not help but laugh.

"Alright; I'm ravenous!"

Gimli and Sam had been escorted away by Gandalf, and Elanor could see no sign of them as diligently as she scanned the multitude of bodies.

"Do not dally by the wayside, nethig!" came a cheerful call from several steps ahead. Elladan shot a wink over one shoulder at her as he skipped across the meadow with all the lightness of a child. As they neared Aragorn's great pavilion, Glorfindel released her hand with a squeeze and moved to speak to Legolas. Seeing her betrothed engaged elsewhere, Elladan dropped back to walk beside his foster-sister. He slipped his hand about hers so their arms were linked and smiled in his easy, charming manner.

"How do you feel today, Elanor?"

"Very well," that lady sighed, "though hungry."

"I am gladdened to hear it!" He shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. "Perhaps it is harder for me to grasp that all is, in fact, over and complete. You, Elanor, were always convinced it would end as it has, were you not?"

Was I?

"I hoped very much that it would be—but there were no sureties, for things have changed much since I arrived," she smiled.

Elladan gave her a gentle nudge with his arm. "I have never seen Ada's advisor so joyous as since your betrothal was announced."

Elanor turned to gaze up at her foster-brother seriously. Elladan's grey eyes were without guile as they trod the path across the meadow in the wake of the rest of the merrymakers.

"What will Father say?" she said, dropping her eyes to study the delicate clusters of wildflowers that made their home in the grass.

"He'll marvel at the propensity of his mortal foster-children in finding mates amongst the Firstborn," Elladan chuckled. For several moments, the peculiar pair named brother and sister walked in silence. Then the taller Elf turned to the slight, golden-haired figure at his side.

"Sam and Gimli must be considered great among their races," he mused. "Yet they are not the only mortals who have aided in this cause." He looked at Elanor keenly then, and she flushed vibrant pink.

"Elladan, I did almost nothing," Elanor said, firmly. "It is not false modesty; anything I did do which was of assistance is more than cancelled out by the selfish motives which drove me to it! I prophesied the Fellowship to secure a chance to remain in Rivendell with Elrond and avoid being sent on the Quest. I journeyed south with the Grey Company because I missed my friends. I rode to war because I had no hope and wished to die. There is nothing honourable in that."

Elanor blinked rapidly and stared ahead, conscious of Elladan's shrewd gaze upon her.

"I did nothing more than ensure my own survival," she concluded, a trifle shakily.

Elladan was unable to restrain a low chuckle. "I am glad of that at least—and so shall Father be. Yet," he added, too soft for her mortal ears, "I doubt he will regard ye so low."

Glorfindel sipped the watered wine and glanced over the rim of his goblet. The air was raucous with the sound of cheery talk, and the high table not to be distinguished by any greater degree of dignity. There sat Aragorn, and Gandalf; King Éomer of Rohan, the Prince Imrahil and all the chief captains, Lord Boromir, and those Elves present. Sam and Gimli were seated beside the King, looking rather tired and awed by the whole proceeding. The rest chattered happily, free to exchange news with friends of old and discuss anything aside from war.

The Noldorin Elf's eyes flicked restlessly about the celebration, rarely lingering long upon any subject. Elrohir was in an animated conversation with one of captains of Dol Amroth at his right hand, whilst Legolas had secured Gimli's ear and was rapidly exchanging news with the ruddy-haired Dwarf. Despite his delight at the success of the Ringbearers, and the vanquishing of Sauron, he found that his desire to feast and celebrate diminished quickly. He had a yearning to converse with Lord Elrond, and to speak quietly with those closest him. Instead, he was wedged between two friends whom were too busy to speak to him, and separated from the woman he had come to depend on.

Still, his lips twitched unconsciously as his eyes passed over Gimli's close-shorn beard. He had heard of the sacrifice of the son of Glóin, trimming short his lustrous facial hair so as not to be discovered as he and Sam traipsed through Mordor in the guise of yrch. Still, Glorfindel's generous nature could not quite quell the delighted amusement he felt at seeing a Dwarf reduced to being as clean-shaving as one of the Eldar. Gimli's beard was just beginning to sprout, in short red tufts that made him appear to be a young Dwarrow once more. Legolas, it seemed, was most understanding of the dire circumstances that had resulted in such a decision. Glorfindel was not nearly so confident in his own self-control.

He had established early in the feast that he could not reach one particular figure with his eyes—Elanor. The King's table was crowded, and as the party had approached the girlish form of his betrothed had been swept away to another seat in the company of her sister. She had been parted from him with a bright smile and moved amongst the masses to be seated with Georgia, a small knot of Gondorian ladies and several lower-ranking officers of the various houses of Men. Seeing her gathered amongst them had caused a great surge of pride within him, for she had appeared no less queenly and beautiful wedged between two ladies of reputed appeal. To his surprise, Glorfindel had discovered that the attire of Gondor suited his lady better than the Elvish garb he had first observed her in. She still favoured the Elvish tunics and breeches, which made her appear more Eldar than Edain, but the dress of clear green that she wore to the feast made her eyes shine like emeralds.

It has been scarce two weeks since you asked Elanor to wed you, and already you behave as a cave-troll with a sore head when she is not at your side!

The Elf shook his head to rouse himself.

By rights, she should also be seated hither.

Yet who would recognise her aid? There is naught that can be told unless you desire to unveil her, though the hope she carried convinced Lord Elrond of his course and spurred many to action, not least among those yourself. She should not have been given a seat upon a table so lofty even as the third, had she not appeared so regal and been part of Elrond's company. Remember well, Glorfindel, for she has no heritage to recommend her. You love her, and are enraptured with her mix of gravity and gayness, wisdom and girlish exuberance. Not all are afforded such insight concerning this foreign lady.

He smiled somewhat absently, as he had become prone to doing whilst dwelling upon Elanor's animated expressions and quick, even smile.

Am I wrong to desire her near?

Perhaps not; the fact you cannot even spy her sunshine hair amidst the crowd does not please you.

No indeed.

Glorfindel attempted to gather his wits for the second time in five minutes. He ought to have been conversing with one of Aragorn's captains, or with the King himself. He knew that the Ranger-turned-ruler regarded his counsel highly, but could not muster the will to assert his right to conversation. Aragorn was already overrun with other advisors, clamouring for his attention as the new and lordly King. The thought of challenging the overwhelming flurry of people made him shudder. Later, perhaps, when he could speak to Aragorn as they had been wont to do many years previous, in Imladris.

Glancing along the table in cleverly concealed boredom, Glorfindel's keen eye fell upon the broad and mighty form of Boromir, son of Denethor. This subject held his attention for longer than any other, primarily because the man had been the first to discover Elanor—his Elanor.

And he has given up the Stewardship… came a stray thought.

A shrewd man. He has made his peace with the King, yet there would never have been harmony between Lords Aragorn and Boromir. Faramir shall work better alongside the King.

Still, he is a mighty captain. His survival shall be of great benefit to Gondor, for he shall lead the men better than many others should.

Then Elanor was right to save him?

Glorfindel stared hard at Boromir for a moment. The raven-haired Gondorian was frowning at a nameless, armour-clad man who sat across from him. His lips moved, yet his words were lost in the din. There was a great hardness about the elder son of the former Steward, and his face was less fair and pleasing to look upon than Faramir's, whom Glorfindel had chanced upon briefly whilst visiting Elanor in the Houses of Healing. He was proud, certainly, and not cruel, but he lacked the gentleness and nobility which could plainly be seen was bestowed upon his brother and Aragorn.

One of the two charges you hold against the man has been freely confessed to you by Elanor, and herself at fault. Would you condemn such a man to death merely because he faltered?

A flicker of a frown disturbed his fair face, as an image of one dark-haired Elf came to mind, one vice-like hand gripping the arm of a fearful child and the other holding a knife to a woman's throat. He flicked it aside with shaky contempt.

And if one continues to falter?

You would deal judgement so rashly?

If it threatened those I loved—

The thought hung in his mind for a moment before he gathered himself for what felt like the dozenth time.

It does not do to dwell upon grim matters at a feast, he told himself, firmly, and forced himself to turn to his right where Elrohir sat amidst the sea of noisy people. And whilst he made a fair pretence at listening to Elrond's son speak with Imrahil's second, Glorfindel's thoughts were far away, with two ladies of sunshine hair and faces fair.

Elanor breathed.

The fragrant air was medicine after the increasingly stuffy air of the pavilion. Twilight had fallen, and the camp had begun to disperse. She had departed as early as she could without appearing impolite, taking a circuitous route through the tent so she might pass by the King's table and catch Glorfindel's eye.

She smiled.

The Elf had seemed to inflate with relief when he had seen her, and she ambled slowly back towards the commander's clearing in the hopes he would hasten to catch her.

She was not disappointed.

She had barely passed the Field of Cormallen by she heard the barest hint of light footsteps and Glorfindel fell into step beside her, his towering frame comforting as he took her hand.

"Did you enjoy that?" she inquired playfully.

"Tremendously," he replied, punctuated by a thin-lipped smile. "And you?"

Elanor shook her head. "Goodness," she sighed, "I've never been so uncomfortable. I ran into Eärendur." Seeing Glorfindel's raised eyebrows, she laughed. "I don't mean we physically collided, but we were seated together."

"Ah," the Elf chuckled. "I imagine that was undesirable." He swung their clasped hands slightly as they passed beneath the trees.

"Torturous," said Elanor, frankly.

"I presume he's noticed you're engaged?"

She feigned surprise. "Do you think so?"

"Perhaps," Glorfindel laughed, and pulled her gently away from the main path into the trees. "Come; I wish to walk beneath the stars and hear no voice save your own."

Elanor sighed. "With pleasure. Eärendur looked like a wistful puppy when he saw me. He was most polite, and boyish, and I do still like him. He's fun, and he still appears more youthful than any of the other Rangers. Should you have not spoken, I might have married him—had he asked," she added, honestly.

Glorfindel seemed to hesitate at little at her side, and Elanor's heart skipped a beat in anxiety. Then he laughed.

"It is well, then, that I spoke."

"How did you find it, Glorfindel? Honestly."

He stared out at the slender forms of tree and shrub and creeper vine for a time before speaking.

"Rather unpleasant. I should have been perfectly satisfied had I been given the pleasure of admiring you, albeit from some distance. Yet you were just out of my reach, and truth be told, I found myself desiring quietude rather than exuberant celebration. To sit with Elrond and Gandalf, and perhaps Estel, watching the latter two smoke their pipes and recline in chairs back in Imladris would have been far more to my taste. I suppose, dearest," he grinned, pausing in his stride to kiss the top of her fair head, "that I am growing old."

"Old?" Elanor scoffed. "Never." She glanced up at him expectantly, seeming disinclined to walk until he had planted a kiss upon her lips. Her cheeks pink after he had obliged her, she grasped his hand and moved forward at a half-skip.

"Did you observe Lord Boromir?" Glorfindel inquired, as they passed further into the trees. The sunlight no longer filtered through the canopy, for the sky was purple in dusk. He angled towards what Elanor believed was a clearing they had often walked in, for the stars were bright beyond the treetops.

"No," came his fiancee's reply, a little slow. She had considered it only right to confess to Glorfindel her previous relationship with Tim in it's entirety, Eärendur's love for her, and her inebriated stupidity towards Boromir as early as she could contrive it. She had not wished to conceal anything from the Elf which could cause trouble later, knowing their standards to be utterly different to her own. Still, she had been surprised to discover that it was not unknown for Elves to court and then return the rings of their betrothal and not marry. Glorfindel had considered it out of the ordinary, but it hadn't shattered his regard for her. Such a breaking of an engagement might only occur if the relationship had not been consummated, however.

At least that wasn't a problem… she thought, and glanced down to hide a blush.

"You are aware he has surrendered the Stewardship to Lord Faramir?"

"Yes," she smiled, grateful to redirect the conversation. "Lord Faramir was intended to take the Stewardship, in my version of the story anyway, were Boromir to have died. And," she lowered her voice despite knowing they were some distance from any ears, "he and Éowyn hit it off very well. That's supposed to work out, too. I believe they would rule together well. I like Éowyn a good deal, and will be pleased to see her again."

Glorfindel appeared bemused. "I strive to ascertain the meaning of your mannerisms Elanor, for I delight to hear you speak so freely. But I do not—"

Elanor laughed—hard.

"Elanor—"

By the time she had recovered, she was breathing hard and her stomach muscles ached. She straightened and dusted off her hands on the soft linen of her green gown, merriment still dancing in her eyes. Glorfindel was watching her in amusement, leaning against a tree with his arms folded. Even at six-and-a-half feet, he was perfectly proportioned and at ease. There was nothing gangly or awkward about the well-muscled, catlike frame. His pose, however, was strangely reminiscent of Tim. As she stilled her breaths, Elanor realised it had been some time since she had lingered upon her boyfriend from home—and that the memories no longer hurt.

Can it really be so long that…

"Sorry," she managed at last, smiling. "'Hit it off' means to get on really well, to like one another, to interact politely and find favour. And for something to 'work out' is for it to come right."

"That much I assumed," Glorfindel said, wryly. He left the tree he leaned against and reached out to straighten a jewelled pin which had fallen askew in his fiancee's hair. Elanor's breathing nearly stopped as his hands ran feather-like across her curls—which had continued to grow at an alarming rate—and hesitated. He brushed one finger along her jawline and smiled, before taking up her hand and continuing to walk along the forest path. It took several steps before she could inhale again. Fortunately, they came to a break in the trees, where the canopy parted altogether and they could observe the bright glimmers of the stars. The distraction afforded her a moment to gather her composure.

Glorfindel led her to a place where the grass grew thick and soft, and helped her sit. He dropped to the ground beside her, settling so she might lean against his chest and be comfortable. For a good while, they merely observed the heavens. Elanor was so distracted by Glorfindel's closeness that she barely paid any heed to the orbs of light which made their appearance one by one, but she knew that he enjoyed this time of evening and chose not to disturb him. As twilight became full dark and the last heavenly body was unveiled, she half turned towards him.

"What are you thinking about, Glorfindel?"

Her fiancee paused.

"Many things, Elanor."

"Too many to mention?"

He chuckled, and his chest rumbled against Elanor's back.

"Never, love. Truth be told, I was considering Lord Boromir, and another I once knew whom bears some resemblance to him, and dwelling upon the life previous." He seemed to shake himself. "Not happy thoughts, though with you so close it is a wonder I can consider anything that is not joyous." He reached one arm around, stretching across her folded arms and clasping her near. His breath tickled one side of her face. "A peculiar day, Sunstar, for my thoughts wander. Whilst you were beyond my reach, I could not stir my thoughts from you, and now you are present I find they wander. 'Tis my own folly. Come, speak to me of pleasanter things."

Elanor sat a moment, very still. The hint of grimness in his frame, so easy to discern with his arm about her, bespoke more than he divulged. As if he read the concern in her mind, he leaned down closer to one cheek and kissed it. Her worries fled.

"Shall I tell you what Georgia said to some of the Gondorian soldiers?" she asked, with a laugh.

"I anticipate it greatly," Glorfindel replied, with a satisfied sigh. "Though I believe the tale must be told upon the road. I should dwell hither by your side evermore, if I could—and we shall, someday—though I promised your foster-brothers I should converse with them a little this evening. They say that you have stolen me away from them. What say you to such an accusation?"

Elanor laughed as Glorfindel steadied her back as he climbed to his feet and pulled her upwards. She looked up at him, the starlight glinting pale on his hair and in the blue of his eyes.

"I would deny it wholeheartedly."

Glorfindel took her by the hand once more, and the pair passed out of the open clearing. As they trod the path beneath the trees, the laughter of both man and woman echoed skyward at Georgia's antics. It died away softly with their passing, leaving the forest silent save for the chirping of the crickets and the rustle of leaves.

TRANSLATIONS

I faer nîn meren - my spirit is joyous

QUESTION OF THE DAY: In this chapter, Glorfindel refers briefly to "an image of one dark-haired Elf came to mind, one vice-like hand gripping the arm of a fearful child and the other holding a knife to a woman's throat." I'm just curious if any of you guys have any idea to whom I am referring in this brief snippet? I'm sure many of you will know it if I divulge it, but I want to see if I made it clear enough. :)

I realise that this chapter isn't hugely essential to the plot, save to reveal that Gimli and Sam are awake and have been honoured, and to further the Glorfanor plotline (this time, minus the angst). I promise things will pick up a bit from here - Chapter 40 will involve the return to Gondor. Elanor will meet with Éowyn, and I've got a few things to introduce which are up my sleeve. :D

Hope you liked it, I would love to get any reviews that you guys think of. And please post your responses to the question I pose about the mention in the Glorfindel POV section.

Hope you're all doing well!

Finwe. x