CHAPTER VIII
THE CREATION OF THE END
The day after the battle, which was later called the Battle Under the Trees, was a grand day for us elves. Even though with all the fire from the explosion and the Orcs being so close to the city, we defeated their host and drove them out of Wilderland. Scouts from Lorien came a few days later, telling us news that Celeborn and Haldir had destroyed the fortress of Necromancer. Celebrations and merry times followed, but there was one thing we notice that was not right- the sky was perfectly blue. All thoughts of evil and suffering had been sucked out of our heads and all we knew was joy. It just did not feel right, especially since the War of the Ring still continued. Finally, a few days later, an armor-clad Éomer came riding to us with his beautiful, scarlet cape flapping in the air.
"I have become the official messenger of King Aragorn of Gondor", said Éomer to Thranduil.
"What!" exclaimed Thranduil. "Aragorn of the Rangers is king?"
"Yes", said Éomer. "It is happy news. He would like to know if you would like to come to his Coronation Ceremony, where he will be crowned King of Men and wed Arwen daughter of Elrond."
"I would like to go to this ceremony", said Thranduil.
"That is most excellent", said Éomer. "You may take a minimum of twenty-five guests to the celebration."
"That is great", said Thranduil. He then turned to me, for I was standing right next to him. "Would you like to go, Anganca son of Aurëedhel?"
"I would be delighted", I told my king. "What about Bungo and Aráto?"
"Aráto is still healing from his wounds", said Thranduil, "and I still do not trust that Bungo lad." Shortly after the battle, Bungo came ridding to us on a pony, telling us he wished to surrender himself to us so we could execute him in any ways fit to us. Thranduil didn't believe in executions, so he talked to Bungo and was impressed by his account of how he destroyed Saleme and spilt her holy blood into the River Anduin. Since Bungo was found with an arrow in his knee, Thranduil sent him to the healers, where he met Aráto, Aralokë's best friend who could not fight with us, for he had a missing arm due to a mishap with a Ringwraith. He told Aráto everything that happened, especially about Aralokë and his death. I later came and told him the whole story, which delighted him greatly. That is how I know about the happenings of Aralokë.
"I can't stay here for long", said Éomer. "I must go to Lorien now and tell them of this ceremony."
"I can do that for you", said Thranduil.
"Excellent!" exclaimed Éomer. "Then I can go back to Rohan and get ready. NAMÁRIË!" The Rohirrim rode of towards his hometown of Edoras while Thranduil walked towards his house, or should I say palace. Happy times would dominate our lives.
Shortly after that meeting, Celeborn and Thranduil in the midst of the forest on April 6th, the elvish New Year day.
"So here we meet", said Celeborn. "The new age of Wood elves shall begin on the eve of the Dominion of Men."
"It is ironic, I know", said Thranduil. "At least we have peace."
"Yes", said Celeborn. "However, we will all have to leave here soon. My wife foresees that in over two more years all elves will be on their way to the Undying Lands, with the last boat caring herself, all the Ringbearers, including the Hobbits, and I. Thus will end the age of the Elves."
"That is a sad prediction".
"Yes, I know. But let's have peace here while we can."
"We are to give the Beorings and the Woodmen a section of their own land for helping is in our time of need, right?"
"Yes, you are correct. You shall take the Northern region as far as the mountains that rise in the forest and call it North Lórien- I shall take all the southern wood below the Narrows and name it East Lórien. As a reward, we shall give the wide forest in between our two regions to the Beorings and the Woodmen."
"That seems like a fair agreement. I accept your offer."
"That is great. I already discussed it with the Woodmen and the Beorings, and they seemed pleased. Do you have a name for this new land?"
"How about Eryn Lasgalen- The Wood of the Greenleaves".
"That is a beautiful name."
"It is nightfall. I must go back to my people."
"You should stay with us. Galadriel insisted that she meet you. Anyway, you could see the sunset beautifully in our Mallorn trees."
"Deal". Thus the two Elf lords rode off to the Golden Wood, where they would find peace. Thus ended the troubles of the Elves..."
"...and thus ends my tale", finished Anganca. He still laid in his bed in a small hut in the Undying Lands. He had chosen a section of the Woods of Oromë and named it 'Mirkwood', for he loved his home so much. People had lived in this makeshift wood just because they loved to hear his stories. Now, however, he was inexplicably deteriorating, which worried all his listeners.
"Why are you dying?" asked Mîrien, one of his most devoted listeners. "You look as weary as Elendil of old."
"I was a very happy man after the War of the Ring", said Anganca, and not just because of the peace. Laurelin, Aralokë's lover, soon became mine on the journey to the Undying Lands and all her woes about Aralokë's death were gone. However, she went for a swim in the Bay of Eldamar one day, and a tide caught her and she drowned. I have become weaker and weaker after those events. We were expecting a child. A beautiful, fair child..." Mîrien, seeing him cry, put her hand on his shoulder and hugged him.
"It is okay", said Mîrien. "We need you to tell us your stories."
"PLEASE LEAVE!" yelled Anganca. "I want peace in my final hours." Everyone inside the hut began to slowly walk out, all except for Mîrien, who began to cry at the sight of his passing away.
"Do not weep for me", said Anganca. "I don't need you to have my fate. You are young and beautiful. Cherish that!"
"Come on", sighed Amandan, Mîrien's older brother. "Mother probably made us a nice, warm dinner, which is probably cold by now".
"Go eat your warm dinner", said Anganca. Mîrien slowly turned around and grabbed her brother's arm, not turning back to see Anganca one last time. Anganca's nurse told Mîrien and Amanadan that Anganca had passed away that night. From that moment on, Mîrien and Amanadan promised themselves that they would tell their children and make sure their children told their children told them the stories of Anganca, which would be later known as the Histories of Middle-Earth.
THE END
THE CREATION OF THE END
The day after the battle, which was later called the Battle Under the Trees, was a grand day for us elves. Even though with all the fire from the explosion and the Orcs being so close to the city, we defeated their host and drove them out of Wilderland. Scouts from Lorien came a few days later, telling us news that Celeborn and Haldir had destroyed the fortress of Necromancer. Celebrations and merry times followed, but there was one thing we notice that was not right- the sky was perfectly blue. All thoughts of evil and suffering had been sucked out of our heads and all we knew was joy. It just did not feel right, especially since the War of the Ring still continued. Finally, a few days later, an armor-clad Éomer came riding to us with his beautiful, scarlet cape flapping in the air.
"I have become the official messenger of King Aragorn of Gondor", said Éomer to Thranduil.
"What!" exclaimed Thranduil. "Aragorn of the Rangers is king?"
"Yes", said Éomer. "It is happy news. He would like to know if you would like to come to his Coronation Ceremony, where he will be crowned King of Men and wed Arwen daughter of Elrond."
"I would like to go to this ceremony", said Thranduil.
"That is most excellent", said Éomer. "You may take a minimum of twenty-five guests to the celebration."
"That is great", said Thranduil. He then turned to me, for I was standing right next to him. "Would you like to go, Anganca son of Aurëedhel?"
"I would be delighted", I told my king. "What about Bungo and Aráto?"
"Aráto is still healing from his wounds", said Thranduil, "and I still do not trust that Bungo lad." Shortly after the battle, Bungo came ridding to us on a pony, telling us he wished to surrender himself to us so we could execute him in any ways fit to us. Thranduil didn't believe in executions, so he talked to Bungo and was impressed by his account of how he destroyed Saleme and spilt her holy blood into the River Anduin. Since Bungo was found with an arrow in his knee, Thranduil sent him to the healers, where he met Aráto, Aralokë's best friend who could not fight with us, for he had a missing arm due to a mishap with a Ringwraith. He told Aráto everything that happened, especially about Aralokë and his death. I later came and told him the whole story, which delighted him greatly. That is how I know about the happenings of Aralokë.
"I can't stay here for long", said Éomer. "I must go to Lorien now and tell them of this ceremony."
"I can do that for you", said Thranduil.
"Excellent!" exclaimed Éomer. "Then I can go back to Rohan and get ready. NAMÁRIË!" The Rohirrim rode of towards his hometown of Edoras while Thranduil walked towards his house, or should I say palace. Happy times would dominate our lives.
Shortly after that meeting, Celeborn and Thranduil in the midst of the forest on April 6th, the elvish New Year day.
"So here we meet", said Celeborn. "The new age of Wood elves shall begin on the eve of the Dominion of Men."
"It is ironic, I know", said Thranduil. "At least we have peace."
"Yes", said Celeborn. "However, we will all have to leave here soon. My wife foresees that in over two more years all elves will be on their way to the Undying Lands, with the last boat caring herself, all the Ringbearers, including the Hobbits, and I. Thus will end the age of the Elves."
"That is a sad prediction".
"Yes, I know. But let's have peace here while we can."
"We are to give the Beorings and the Woodmen a section of their own land for helping is in our time of need, right?"
"Yes, you are correct. You shall take the Northern region as far as the mountains that rise in the forest and call it North Lórien- I shall take all the southern wood below the Narrows and name it East Lórien. As a reward, we shall give the wide forest in between our two regions to the Beorings and the Woodmen."
"That seems like a fair agreement. I accept your offer."
"That is great. I already discussed it with the Woodmen and the Beorings, and they seemed pleased. Do you have a name for this new land?"
"How about Eryn Lasgalen- The Wood of the Greenleaves".
"That is a beautiful name."
"It is nightfall. I must go back to my people."
"You should stay with us. Galadriel insisted that she meet you. Anyway, you could see the sunset beautifully in our Mallorn trees."
"Deal". Thus the two Elf lords rode off to the Golden Wood, where they would find peace. Thus ended the troubles of the Elves..."
"...and thus ends my tale", finished Anganca. He still laid in his bed in a small hut in the Undying Lands. He had chosen a section of the Woods of Oromë and named it 'Mirkwood', for he loved his home so much. People had lived in this makeshift wood just because they loved to hear his stories. Now, however, he was inexplicably deteriorating, which worried all his listeners.
"Why are you dying?" asked Mîrien, one of his most devoted listeners. "You look as weary as Elendil of old."
"I was a very happy man after the War of the Ring", said Anganca, and not just because of the peace. Laurelin, Aralokë's lover, soon became mine on the journey to the Undying Lands and all her woes about Aralokë's death were gone. However, she went for a swim in the Bay of Eldamar one day, and a tide caught her and she drowned. I have become weaker and weaker after those events. We were expecting a child. A beautiful, fair child..." Mîrien, seeing him cry, put her hand on his shoulder and hugged him.
"It is okay", said Mîrien. "We need you to tell us your stories."
"PLEASE LEAVE!" yelled Anganca. "I want peace in my final hours." Everyone inside the hut began to slowly walk out, all except for Mîrien, who began to cry at the sight of his passing away.
"Do not weep for me", said Anganca. "I don't need you to have my fate. You are young and beautiful. Cherish that!"
"Come on", sighed Amandan, Mîrien's older brother. "Mother probably made us a nice, warm dinner, which is probably cold by now".
"Go eat your warm dinner", said Anganca. Mîrien slowly turned around and grabbed her brother's arm, not turning back to see Anganca one last time. Anganca's nurse told Mîrien and Amanadan that Anganca had passed away that night. From that moment on, Mîrien and Amanadan promised themselves that they would tell their children and make sure their children told their children told them the stories of Anganca, which would be later known as the Histories of Middle-Earth.
THE END