Chapter Two of 'The Story of Elsoriel'- Elsoriel's Childhood.
The first few weeks of Elsoriel's life were joyous ones. Elsulan and Ellia had been honoured with their very own living quarters in the Royal House of Edoras, but their daughter spent most of her day with her mother and her mother's charge, the young Éowyn, then just eight years old. Ellia delighted in caring for the pretty young Shieldmaiden, and the Shieldmaiden delighted in cooing over the funny little Elvish baby. Elsulan spent much of his time roaming the fields of Rohan, whispering to the horses in his gentle language, taming even the wildest of beasts.
Elsulan had returned to Rivendell twice during his wife's pregnancy, to share his good fortune with his family, friends, and above all, Lord Elrond. He greatly anticipated the day when he could take his wife and daughter with him- Ellia had been too vulnerable to risk the long, tiring journey during her pregnancy, and directly after the birth it was decided that Elsoriel was still much too young to travel on horseback.
When Elsoriel was little over a month old (yet by then a familiar addition to Edoras!), her father set off to Rivendell, to spread the delightful news of his new child to all who dwelled there. It was to be his third visit to his homeland since he first left, years before. Early one autumn morning, he bade farewell to his adoring wife and his beautiful daughter and rode off into the sunset, astride Serenufela, his favourite steed.
A week later, the majestic chestnut mare with the white star upon her forehead returned to Edoras without a rider.
Elsoriel was, of course, much too young to form any memories of her father at the time. She could not remember anything that happened to her or her mother around the time of his death, but if she could, she would have recalled her mother's endless weeping, her incapability of tending to her own daughter, and to the child Éowyn. She would have remembered herself and Éowyn being placed in the care of Haraf, the young Éomer's tutor, for a while, until Ellia had recovered from her earth- shattering grief.
It was many a month before Ellia could bring herself to even look at her daughter- everything about Elsoriel reminded her of her beloved husband. Elves were not supposed to die- how could this have happened? Oh, if only the magnificent Serenufela could talk.
It was hazy, late summer's eve (Elsoriel was swiftly approaching her first birthday) when two mysterious riders arrived at the gates of Edoras. Ellia, who had slowly but surely returned back to a sort- of- normal, was playing with Éowyn and her brother in the grounds of the Royal House, while the little Elsoriel looked on, clapping and laughing at the antics of the Royal children, from her spot in the shade of a willow tree. Looking up, Ellia noticed the two riders being greeted at the gate by one of the keepers.
One of the Riders, seemingly the elder of the two, was a tall and graceful Elf, dressed in regal, flowing robes. His hair was as dark as the night sky, and his skin as clear as the water that cascaded from the fountains at the Royal House of Edoras. His horse was simply a beauty- big and strong, and the colour of the cumulus clouds that could be seen high in the sky on a Rohan summer's day. The second Rider, a Man, appeared quite humble next to his exquisite companion. The Man was dressed in a rather plain, colourless attire, all browns and muddy greens. His hair was dark, though not nearly as dark as the Elf's, and his complexion hidden by an unkempt beard. Neither was his mare anything special, a dull brown colour with a scraggy mane. Yet there was something about the Man and his horse that perplexed Ellia. the steed held her head up high, as though proud of some noble secret that she alone knew. The same could be said of the Rider, though appearing rather vagrant- like, there was something about him, some strange importance, that made Ellia stare at him in wonder.
'Who are they, Miss Ellia?' asked an inquisitive Éomer, shaking at his sister's handmaiden's sleeve. This gesture startled Ellia out of a trance like state. 'I cannot answer that, young lord, for I really do not know.' Then, more to herself than to the boy, she said, 'Yet, these strangers do seem quite familiar to me, but as to why, I cannot answer either.' Ellia and the children watched the visitors approach the Royal House until they faded from view. Even the infant Elsoriel knew to keep quiet at this time. Even she could sense the awe surrounding these two Riders.
Within an hour, Ellia was summoned to the Golden Hall of Edoras. She placed the children in Haraf's care and entered the hall, confused and even a little nervous as to why she had been called. There sat Théoden King (uncle to Éowyn and Éomer) upon his throne, his young, yet loyal, advisor, Hama, to his right. Before the King stood the two strangers. All eyes were on Ellia as she entered the long, wonderful room.
'You asked for me, your Highness?' she curtsied in front of the King. Théoden nodded gravely, yet kindly (as was his fashion) and said, 'Yes, Miss Ellia. Before me today stand two visitors to Rohan- Elrond Halfelven, Lord of Rivendell, and Lord Aragorn, a Man of Gondor, although he grew up in the House of Elrond. I am sure you have heard many a tale of Rivendell before today, is this not so?' Ellia as so taken aback that she could not speak, only nod, despicably rude as this was in the presence of a King. Ellia had indeed heard many a tale of Rivendell, and of these two strangers. Ellia had heard so many stories of these people from her husband that she felt as though she knew them, especially the Elf. Was this really Elsulan's beloved Lord Elrond? Ellia could hardly believe her eyes.
'Dearest Ellia,' spoke Lord Elrond, in a decisive, noble tone. 'Lord Aragorn and I bring news of your late husband, Rivendell's beloved son, Elsulan.' Ellia bowed her head at the word 'late'. All glimmer of hope that she held in her heart of her husband's survival died with Elsulan in that very moment. 'Yes, m'lord?' she asked wearily. Elrond looked at Aragorn, as though prompting him. 'Perhaps we should let Lord Aragorn continue.' And so Aragorn began:
'It was perhaps half a year ago that I was wandering along the great River, near to the Golden Elvish Wood of Lothlórien, (I wander, my lady, for I am a Ranger, and it is a wanderer's life I lead) when I suddenly fell upon the remains of a party of hideous Orcs. What they were doing so close to the magical Wood of Lothlórien, I cannot say (although I have witnessed some curious goings- on in Middle- earth of late), but their carcasses, I fear, were not alone. Lying near them, wounded by a horrid Orc arrow that pierced his heart, was Elsulan, well preserved and easily recognisable. It pained me to see my old friend in such a sorry state. The only solitude that I can now offer you, ma'am, is the fact that Elsulan took his last breath near to such a glorious place as Lothlórien. He was no doubt overwhelmed by the beauty of the place.'
Here Aragorn paused, and looked to Elrond to finish. And so the Elf did:
'Lord Aragorn returned to Rivendell, with the body, and your husband now lies under his favourite tree in a shrine near to the walls of Rivendell, where he spent so much time in his youth. Miss Ellia, I understand that you have a child by Elsulan?'
Ellia nodded. 'That is correct, my Lord, I bore a daughter, Elsoriel, the purest image of her father.'
Elrond smiled slowly, 'Miss Ellia, I now have a proposition for you. Do you agree that it is important for your daughter to experience Elvish culture, seeing as she is, after all, a daughter of Rivendell?'
Ellia paused. Indeed, she did agree with Lord Elrond on this matter, she desired for her daughter to experience the best of both worlds. 'Yes, my Lord,' she responded.
'Good, and I am sure your husband would have agreed. Then, would it be possible for the infant Elsoriel to spend the summer months at the House of Elrond, where she would be treated like a princess, until she is old enough to choose for herself between an Elvish and Mortal life?'
How could Ellia refuse? Elsoriel would learn about her father, and his way of life every summer in a way that Ellia could never teach the child. This arrangement was just perfect, and as soon as Elsoriel was old enough to travel, it would begin.
Oh, how Elsoriel hated summer. Every June, without fail, a representative arrived from Rivendell to take her away from Rohan, her home. She bade tearful farewells to her mother, her good friend Lady Éowyn and to Serenufela, her beloved horse. She hated the time she spent with the Elves.
The Elves were all very nice to Elsoriel, especially Lord Elrond, who did become quite a father figure to her, but it was the place, the lifestyle that Elsoriel hated. Elsoriel felt trapped in Rivendell; she spent her days pacing up and down near to the land's outer walls, longing for the summer to end. She was bored of sitting in the library, reading the Elvish scribes, detailing the history of Middle- earth. It was all about Elves- not a mention of Men, not to mind the great people of Rohan. She hated speaking Elvish; she felt much more at home using the Common Speech. She even hated hearing Elrond's stories about her father. She did not remember the Elf; therefore she did not care about how brave and noble he was. She was certain that he was a good Elf, her mother had loved him dearly, and he definitely looked noble (Elsoriel was forced to visit his shrine ever day, although it spooked her), but his story meant nothing to her, just as he meant nothing to her, simply because he was never a part of her life.
Elsoriel was not an Elf, she was a Mortal. She enjoyed Lord Aragorn's infrequent (and usually brief) visits to Rivendell, as he sometimes told her some historic and triumphant stories concerning the world of Men. But, Aragorn was very rarely available to converse with Elsoriel, for when he wasn't with Lord Elrond he was with the Elf's daughter, Arwen, with whom he had a rather special relationship.
Elsoriel got along well with Lady Arwen, but she secretly resented the Elf. She was not referred to as 'Halfelven', as though she was. nothing. Elsoriel hated that.
She did not want to be nothing. she longed to be something.
The first few weeks of Elsoriel's life were joyous ones. Elsulan and Ellia had been honoured with their very own living quarters in the Royal House of Edoras, but their daughter spent most of her day with her mother and her mother's charge, the young Éowyn, then just eight years old. Ellia delighted in caring for the pretty young Shieldmaiden, and the Shieldmaiden delighted in cooing over the funny little Elvish baby. Elsulan spent much of his time roaming the fields of Rohan, whispering to the horses in his gentle language, taming even the wildest of beasts.
Elsulan had returned to Rivendell twice during his wife's pregnancy, to share his good fortune with his family, friends, and above all, Lord Elrond. He greatly anticipated the day when he could take his wife and daughter with him- Ellia had been too vulnerable to risk the long, tiring journey during her pregnancy, and directly after the birth it was decided that Elsoriel was still much too young to travel on horseback.
When Elsoriel was little over a month old (yet by then a familiar addition to Edoras!), her father set off to Rivendell, to spread the delightful news of his new child to all who dwelled there. It was to be his third visit to his homeland since he first left, years before. Early one autumn morning, he bade farewell to his adoring wife and his beautiful daughter and rode off into the sunset, astride Serenufela, his favourite steed.
A week later, the majestic chestnut mare with the white star upon her forehead returned to Edoras without a rider.
Elsoriel was, of course, much too young to form any memories of her father at the time. She could not remember anything that happened to her or her mother around the time of his death, but if she could, she would have recalled her mother's endless weeping, her incapability of tending to her own daughter, and to the child Éowyn. She would have remembered herself and Éowyn being placed in the care of Haraf, the young Éomer's tutor, for a while, until Ellia had recovered from her earth- shattering grief.
It was many a month before Ellia could bring herself to even look at her daughter- everything about Elsoriel reminded her of her beloved husband. Elves were not supposed to die- how could this have happened? Oh, if only the magnificent Serenufela could talk.
It was hazy, late summer's eve (Elsoriel was swiftly approaching her first birthday) when two mysterious riders arrived at the gates of Edoras. Ellia, who had slowly but surely returned back to a sort- of- normal, was playing with Éowyn and her brother in the grounds of the Royal House, while the little Elsoriel looked on, clapping and laughing at the antics of the Royal children, from her spot in the shade of a willow tree. Looking up, Ellia noticed the two riders being greeted at the gate by one of the keepers.
One of the Riders, seemingly the elder of the two, was a tall and graceful Elf, dressed in regal, flowing robes. His hair was as dark as the night sky, and his skin as clear as the water that cascaded from the fountains at the Royal House of Edoras. His horse was simply a beauty- big and strong, and the colour of the cumulus clouds that could be seen high in the sky on a Rohan summer's day. The second Rider, a Man, appeared quite humble next to his exquisite companion. The Man was dressed in a rather plain, colourless attire, all browns and muddy greens. His hair was dark, though not nearly as dark as the Elf's, and his complexion hidden by an unkempt beard. Neither was his mare anything special, a dull brown colour with a scraggy mane. Yet there was something about the Man and his horse that perplexed Ellia. the steed held her head up high, as though proud of some noble secret that she alone knew. The same could be said of the Rider, though appearing rather vagrant- like, there was something about him, some strange importance, that made Ellia stare at him in wonder.
'Who are they, Miss Ellia?' asked an inquisitive Éomer, shaking at his sister's handmaiden's sleeve. This gesture startled Ellia out of a trance like state. 'I cannot answer that, young lord, for I really do not know.' Then, more to herself than to the boy, she said, 'Yet, these strangers do seem quite familiar to me, but as to why, I cannot answer either.' Ellia and the children watched the visitors approach the Royal House until they faded from view. Even the infant Elsoriel knew to keep quiet at this time. Even she could sense the awe surrounding these two Riders.
Within an hour, Ellia was summoned to the Golden Hall of Edoras. She placed the children in Haraf's care and entered the hall, confused and even a little nervous as to why she had been called. There sat Théoden King (uncle to Éowyn and Éomer) upon his throne, his young, yet loyal, advisor, Hama, to his right. Before the King stood the two strangers. All eyes were on Ellia as she entered the long, wonderful room.
'You asked for me, your Highness?' she curtsied in front of the King. Théoden nodded gravely, yet kindly (as was his fashion) and said, 'Yes, Miss Ellia. Before me today stand two visitors to Rohan- Elrond Halfelven, Lord of Rivendell, and Lord Aragorn, a Man of Gondor, although he grew up in the House of Elrond. I am sure you have heard many a tale of Rivendell before today, is this not so?' Ellia as so taken aback that she could not speak, only nod, despicably rude as this was in the presence of a King. Ellia had indeed heard many a tale of Rivendell, and of these two strangers. Ellia had heard so many stories of these people from her husband that she felt as though she knew them, especially the Elf. Was this really Elsulan's beloved Lord Elrond? Ellia could hardly believe her eyes.
'Dearest Ellia,' spoke Lord Elrond, in a decisive, noble tone. 'Lord Aragorn and I bring news of your late husband, Rivendell's beloved son, Elsulan.' Ellia bowed her head at the word 'late'. All glimmer of hope that she held in her heart of her husband's survival died with Elsulan in that very moment. 'Yes, m'lord?' she asked wearily. Elrond looked at Aragorn, as though prompting him. 'Perhaps we should let Lord Aragorn continue.' And so Aragorn began:
'It was perhaps half a year ago that I was wandering along the great River, near to the Golden Elvish Wood of Lothlórien, (I wander, my lady, for I am a Ranger, and it is a wanderer's life I lead) when I suddenly fell upon the remains of a party of hideous Orcs. What they were doing so close to the magical Wood of Lothlórien, I cannot say (although I have witnessed some curious goings- on in Middle- earth of late), but their carcasses, I fear, were not alone. Lying near them, wounded by a horrid Orc arrow that pierced his heart, was Elsulan, well preserved and easily recognisable. It pained me to see my old friend in such a sorry state. The only solitude that I can now offer you, ma'am, is the fact that Elsulan took his last breath near to such a glorious place as Lothlórien. He was no doubt overwhelmed by the beauty of the place.'
Here Aragorn paused, and looked to Elrond to finish. And so the Elf did:
'Lord Aragorn returned to Rivendell, with the body, and your husband now lies under his favourite tree in a shrine near to the walls of Rivendell, where he spent so much time in his youth. Miss Ellia, I understand that you have a child by Elsulan?'
Ellia nodded. 'That is correct, my Lord, I bore a daughter, Elsoriel, the purest image of her father.'
Elrond smiled slowly, 'Miss Ellia, I now have a proposition for you. Do you agree that it is important for your daughter to experience Elvish culture, seeing as she is, after all, a daughter of Rivendell?'
Ellia paused. Indeed, she did agree with Lord Elrond on this matter, she desired for her daughter to experience the best of both worlds. 'Yes, my Lord,' she responded.
'Good, and I am sure your husband would have agreed. Then, would it be possible for the infant Elsoriel to spend the summer months at the House of Elrond, where she would be treated like a princess, until she is old enough to choose for herself between an Elvish and Mortal life?'
How could Ellia refuse? Elsoriel would learn about her father, and his way of life every summer in a way that Ellia could never teach the child. This arrangement was just perfect, and as soon as Elsoriel was old enough to travel, it would begin.
Oh, how Elsoriel hated summer. Every June, without fail, a representative arrived from Rivendell to take her away from Rohan, her home. She bade tearful farewells to her mother, her good friend Lady Éowyn and to Serenufela, her beloved horse. She hated the time she spent with the Elves.
The Elves were all very nice to Elsoriel, especially Lord Elrond, who did become quite a father figure to her, but it was the place, the lifestyle that Elsoriel hated. Elsoriel felt trapped in Rivendell; she spent her days pacing up and down near to the land's outer walls, longing for the summer to end. She was bored of sitting in the library, reading the Elvish scribes, detailing the history of Middle- earth. It was all about Elves- not a mention of Men, not to mind the great people of Rohan. She hated speaking Elvish; she felt much more at home using the Common Speech. She even hated hearing Elrond's stories about her father. She did not remember the Elf; therefore she did not care about how brave and noble he was. She was certain that he was a good Elf, her mother had loved him dearly, and he definitely looked noble (Elsoriel was forced to visit his shrine ever day, although it spooked her), but his story meant nothing to her, just as he meant nothing to her, simply because he was never a part of her life.
Elsoriel was not an Elf, she was a Mortal. She enjoyed Lord Aragorn's infrequent (and usually brief) visits to Rivendell, as he sometimes told her some historic and triumphant stories concerning the world of Men. But, Aragorn was very rarely available to converse with Elsoriel, for when he wasn't with Lord Elrond he was with the Elf's daughter, Arwen, with whom he had a rather special relationship.
Elsoriel got along well with Lady Arwen, but she secretly resented the Elf. She was not referred to as 'Halfelven', as though she was. nothing. Elsoriel hated that.
She did not want to be nothing. she longed to be something.