HELP! SOMEBODY STOP ME BEFORE I WRITE AGAIN!
Beta reader: Dragonfly the Diligent
Silent Banshee: Yes, the Valar have ways of keeping apprised of happenings in Middle Earth, and I thought a psychic connection would not be too far-fetched.
Melissa: This will be the tree-climbing chapter. Laiqua again will be very creative in solving his problems.
Farflung: Noise can be a mother's best friend. I'll never forget the time that a suspicious silence set me to searching to house for my toddler daughter. I found her behind the couch clutching an open bottle of children's acetaminophen that I had forgotten to remove from her diaper bag after we had gotten back from the sitter's. Notch up one phone call to Poison Control. Mothers are forever saying, with narrowed eyes, "It's quiet—too quiet."
Tyndel: Thank you. I'm glad these infant Legolas stories do not seem to contradict your vision of the older Legolas.
Symian: I assume the theme music has faded from your head; otherwise, by now I am probably not your favorite person! However, yes, I was thinking of the movie when I chose the title. After all, the prisoners were so persistent, trying again and again and again to escape. That seemed to fit in with Legolas' repeated tries to reach that tantalizing forest.
Daw the Minstrel: Edwen Nana is a little overbearing at times, but nobody exceeds her in the 'loving care' department. Yes, pity that all children are not the recipients of such loving care.
Joee: Oh, no, your story about the twins you babysat has captured my brain, which is now envisioning scenarios revolving around Elrohir and Elladan as infants! Aaaargh, I will never be done with these stories! As soon as I write one, somebody makes a comment that makes me think of another! Aiiiiiiiiiii!
Karri: You know what they say: The child is father of the Man—or, in this case the elfling is father of the Elf.
Chapter 5: Dragons and Seagulls
Tathar and Laiqua were sitting on the floor of the cottage decorating the kites that Edwen Nana had helped them make the day before.
"Edwen Nana," called Tathar, "is green a good color for a dragon?"
"There is a dragon has been seen near Erebor, I do believe," the nursemaid replied, "but I have heard various accounts as to its appearance. Some say its scales are green, some that they are steel grey. Yet others report that it is silver or shiny black or even brown. I think those who espy the worm are so struck with fear that they are incapable of giving a proper account of it. So you may feel free to paint your dragon any color you please."
"Green, then," decided Tathar, "with red eyes."
"And you, Laiqua?" said Edwen Nana. "You have not said what creature you have chosen for your kite."
"A seagull," declared the elfling.
"A seagull?" said Tathar. "What's that?"
"A sort of bird dwells near the sea," replied Laiqua.
"There is no sea hereabouts," Tathar observed. "You can't ever have seen a seagull."
"No dragons hereabouts, neither," retorted Laiqua. "You've seen naught but carvings of dragons."
"Yes, I have seen carvings," teased Tathar, "for my Adahas carved me several. I'll warrant your Ada has never carved you even a single seagull."
"Tathar!" scolded Edwen Nana. "What possesses you to say something so unkind!?"
Both elflings looked down in shame, Tathar because he knew he had behaved meanly, Laiqua because he had lately noticed that Tathar had both a Nana and an Ada and he wondered what he had done to not have been gifted by the Valar with an Ada of his own.
Edwen Nana continued in a gentler voice.
"Laiqua has no carvings of seagulls, but he knows much about those creatures. Laiqua, fetch that book from the wardrobe."
Recovering his spirits, Laiqua hastened to the wardrobe and carefully drew forth from underneath the neatly folded tunics a book that had been lately brought to the cottage by one of the Watchers. It was precious to him. Its cover was of finely tooled leather, and each incipit had been ornately drawn and gilded. But Laiqua cared naught for these decorations. Instead, he was drawn by the elaborately detailed pictures of birds and beasts, each accompanied by an account of its customary behavior. Turning the pages reverently, he came to a picture of seagulls swooping above the surf that rolled in upon a beach.
"G-w-a-e-l," he sounded out. "Gwael. Seagull. See, Tathar," he said excitedly. "The book talks! Each of these little marks makes a sound. Look how these marks cluster together? If you quickly say each sound there, one after the other, you can hear a word! I can make the book tell a story about seagulls. And here," he continued, turning the page, "is a picture of an eagle, and I can make this page talk, too!"
Tathar was impressed.
"Can you show me how to make the book talk?" he said humbly.
"Of course," agreed Laiqua, all resentment forgotten. He turned to another section of the book, one filled with pictures of trees.
"That's a willow tree!" exclaimed Tathar, pointing at one of the pictures.
Laiqua grinned.
"Yes, but watch this!"
Laiqua put his finger on the first letter of one word.
"Whenever you see that mark, make a 't' sound."
"T," said Tathar.
"Now," said Laiqua, pointing to the second letter, "whenever you see that mark, make an 'a' sound."
"A," said Tathar.
"Good. Now make the 't' sound, and then right away make the 'a' sound."
"T-a," said Tathar promptly. "Ta. Ooh," he squealed, "that's the beginning of 'tathar', isn't it!? That's the name for 'willow', and my name as well!"
"Yes," said Laiqua triumphantly. "See, here are the other sounds. There you see the mark for 'th', and there is the one for 'r'. Put all the sounds together, and you have 'tathar'!"
"And the whole book talks this way?"
"Yes, every page!" exclaimed Laiqua enthusiastically. "And I have other books talk in the very same fashion!"
"How came you to have these books?"
"From time to time a Watcher will bring one to me."
Tathar was impressed.
"You must be very special," he mused, "for the Watchers to bring you such treasures. Do you suppose," he added hopefully, "that you would want to trade one of your books for one of my Ada's dragon carvings? Or mayhap two or three carvings?"
Laiqua considered.
"No," he said at last. "The books are too precious to me. But you are welcome to borrow one from time to time. If you do, you must promise to take very good care of it. If you injure it, it may not talk anymore."
"Oh, I will be quite careful," Tathar promised fervently. "But now show me more marks, else I shall not be able to make the books talk when I do borrow them."
The elflings spent much of the remainder of the day agreeably occupied in conversation with Laiqua's book. Tathar was delighted when he turned over one page to discover a picture of a dragon. It had red eyes and iridescent green scales, and a plume of smoke issued forth from each flaring nostril.
"A-m-l-u-g," read Laiqua. "Amlug. Dragon. Also known as 'worm'." Laiqua continued to read most expertly, for he had, in fact, well nigh memorized the passage. "Means of getting about: A dragon can crawl across the ground but prefers to fly. It will not under any circumstances swim, for water extinguishes its internal flame, which otherwise burns hot enough to melt gold. Its scales can turn both sword and missile, so it is not wise to meddle with a dragon. A dragon will devour an entire cow or pony at one sitting, but it is more avaricious than voracious"—Laiqua did stumble over these words—"for it delights in amassing treasure. Dragons are extraordinarily"—that word came out 'extwadinawily'—"gifted arithmetically, for each can tally its hoard to the very last coin. No matter how much treasure a dragon has amassed, it is folly to remove even one piece from the hoard. The dragon will assuredly miss even the tiniest bauble, and its revenge will be dreadful. The greatest dragons of all were Ancalagon the Biting Storm, Scatha the Worm, and Glaurung the Gold-Demon."
"Ooooh," sighed Tathar, letting out his breath at long last. "How exciting to think that a dragon has been seen in Erebor!"
Edwen Nana had been listening as she prepared supper.
"I doubt the Dwarves are much excited by the worm's proximity," she muttered to herself. "Someday that dragon will mean trouble. Once those Dwarves pile up enough wealth to catch its eye, he'll come swooping down upon them. Then Thranduil will have to look to the borders, for doubtless refugees will come blundering through."
She placed two plates and two mugs upon the table.
"Go and wash your hands and faces," she instructed the elflings.
"My hands and face are clean, Nana," said Laiqua.
"Doubtless they are, love," the nursemaid replied, "but wash nonetheless in order to keep your friend company."
Good-naturedly, Laiqua joined Tathar at the dry sink, helping his friend to pour water from the jug into the basin. After both had washed and dried their hands and faces, they came to the table. They made short work of the meal, as younglings are wont to do. Edwen Nana pretended to grumble, uttering the customary complaint of the Naneth.
"Takes hours to prepare the meal; minutes for you to eat it."
Of course, in truth she was pleased at their hearty appetites.
Shortly after the elflings had finished supper, Erynmaethor arrived to fetch Tathar home.
"Mae govannen, Erynmaethor," Edwen Nana greeted him. "Do you still plan to take the elflings to the greensward tomorrow so that they may fly their kites?"
"I do indeed, Edwen Nana," the carpenter replied.
"I thank you for that, Erynmaethor. It will be the first time in four years that I have had a day to myself. But I do hope you know what you are taking on!"
"I know how mischievous Tathar is," laughed Erynmaethor, "so I assume that with Laiqua along I will face twice the trouble."
"Oh, at the very least," exclaimed Edwen Nana, smiling.
After Erynmaethor and Tathar had departed, Edwen Nana sent Laiqua to bed early.
"You will be leaving at dawn, Laiqua. Sleep now, so that you will be able to enjoy tomorrow to the fullest."
Obediently, Laiqua crawled beneath his quilt and was asleep within minutes. The next morning he awoke even before his nursemaid, so excited was he. In the four years since he had arrived in the clearing, he had hardly ever left it. He envied Tathar, who had seen much more of the forest than he had. Not only did Tathar walk every day with his father on the path that led between their cottage and Laiqua's; he had also journeyed to the Great Hall with his Ada the last time the carpenter had gone to trade at the market that was periodically held there. Occasionally Laiqua did accompany Edwen Nana to the spring, and a few times his nursemaid had taken him to Tathar's house. But for the most part his life revolved around the clearing and the cottage that stood within it. Today, however, he would walk for hours to reach a great open space. The trees there had burned down not so many years ago, and the forest had yet to reclaim the land.
Laiqua slipped out of his cot and went to stand by Edwen Nana's bedstead. Her eyes were open, but she was clearly still deep within a dream. Laiqua fidgeted, standing first on one leg, then on another. At last his eye fell upon the bucket that stood by the door waiting to be picked up by Edwen Nana for day's first trip to the spring. Laiqua gazed at it thoughtfully. He looked back at Edwen Nana. She had not stirred.
"I am going to surprise Nana," Laiqua said to himself. "I will fetch her a bucket of water."
He picked up the bucket and carefully lifted the latch. The hinges had never been oiled—no doubt by design!—and the door creaked as Laiqua pushed upon it. Nervously, he looked back at Edwen Nana. She still slept. Laiqua pushed the door open just enough to allow him to slip out with the bucket. Then he crept toward the woods, hoping that he could somehow escape the notice of the Watchers.
As luck would have it, at this early hour the eyes of the Watchers were not turned toward the cottage, for they did not expect anyone to emerge from that dwelling for at least another hour. Instead, they stood with their backs to the cottage, scanning the woods for any danger that might draw near during the hours of darkness. So it was that Laiqua was able to reach the margin of the forest without being spotted. Not only that, the elfling was able to spy out the locations of several of the watchers. He gloated, but only for a moment, for almost immediately it occurred to the elfling that once he got past the Watchers, they would see him, for they were looking in the direction he meant to go. They would surround him and hem him in. The Watchers would not speak to him; they would not touch him; but they would inexorably herd him toward the cottage—or, at the very least, keep him encircled until an indignant Edwen Nana issued forth from the cottage in full pursuit.
Stymied, Laiqua looked all around him for a way to bypass the Watchers but saw nothing. Suddenly he heard a slight noise above him and looked up. An owl had just alit upon a branch overhead. The elfling's eyes widened until he looked somewhat owlish himself.
"The Watchers are looking outward, not upward," he said to himself. "How if I crossed above their heads? They will not expect that."
Of course, it wasn't going to be easy climbing a tree whilst holding a bucket. Laiqua slipped off his leggings, knotted one leg around the handle of the bucket, and looped the other leg over one shoulder and underneath the other so that the bucket was fastened to his back. With both arms now free, he swarmed up a tree until he had reached a branch well over the heads of the watchers. Then, balancing on both feet, he inched along the branch until he was within an easy leap of another branch. He had never done anything like this, but he had an excellent sense of balance and was quite fearless, both prerequisites for success. After carefully gauging the distance between the two branches, he drew his limbs together and then jumped. He easily made his target.
Of course, when he landed, he made a little noise. A Watcher instantly looked up, but the boughs blocked his view of the elfling. Moreover, at that very minute the owl chose to lift off from its perch, and the Watcher saw the bird swoop by. Reassured, the Watcher resumed his careful scrutiny of the forest before him.
Proceeding in this manner, Laiqua was soon at the spring. He slid down a tree, carefully keeping it between him and the Watchers. Quickly he filled the bucket. As soon as he did so, he realized the flaw in his plan. It is one thing to travel through the treetops with an empty bucket tied to one's back; it is quite another thing to return with a full bucket.
"Ah, well," thought Laiqua to himself, "the Watchers keep me from leaving the clearing; I don't think they'd stop me from returning to it. Indeed, they'll want me to go that way. So no reason I shouldn't simply walk back in plain view."
Laiqua unknotted his leggings and slipped them back on. ("After all," he told himself, "I don't want to be entirely in plain view!") Then he lifted the full bucket—it was heavy!—and strolled as nonchalantly as he could manage in the direction of the clearing. Sure enough, after he had taken only a few steps, several Elves materialized, and Laiqua had the satisfaction of seeing the perplexed expressions on the faces of his instant escort. However, the Watchers said nary a word. Silently his guardians walked in front and in back and to either side of him until he was safely back at the clearing. Then they stayed in the margin of the forest, watching until he had slipped inside the cottage. What they said to each other after their charge had disappeared into the dwelling, I can only imagine.
Edwen Nana was still sleeping. Grinning, Laiqua placed the bucket by the door in its customary place. Then he slipped back into his cot and tried to look as if he still slept. It was still a good hour before dawn. It seemed a long time before he heard his nursemaid stirring. After tossing and turning a bit, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed.
"Well," she muttered to herself, "best start preparing breakfast."
She arose and made her way to the door. Bending down, she took hold of the handle of the bucket. Laiqua could hardly keep from laughing as she exclaimed in surprise.
"Full! Odd, I don't remember making a trip to the spring last night. But I must have, seemingly. Don't like to think I should be so absent-minded as to have forgotten."
Laiqua could restrain himself no longer. He sat bolt upright.
"I fetched the water, Nana! I did!" he declared triumphantly.
To his surprise, she did not beam at him and thank him for his efforts. Instead, she stared at him, her face impassive.
"Pray tell, how did you manage that when you were supposed to be abed?"
"I slipped out whilst you slept and crept above the heads of the watchers. I leapt from tree branch to tree branch, and then, um, and then…."
Laiqua's voice trailed off, and he looked uneasily at Edwen Nana. Her face was still impassive—all but the eyes, which now glittered like the blade of a knife well-sharpened.
"Laiqua, you have ventured into the forest at night, when you know that you are not to go there even during the day. You have behaved very badly."
Just then Laiqua and Edwen Nana heard Erynmaethor hail the house. Edwen Nana went to the door, where Erynmaethor greeted her cheerfully while Tathar grinned at Laiqua.
"Is the lad all ready for his great journey?" Erynmaethor laughed. "Been up already for hours, I'll wager."
Edwen Nana spoke calmly and deliberately.
"I am afraid Laiqua will not be going with you today. He has done wrong and will remain here and think on it."
"I am sorry to hear that," said Erynmaethor, surprised. As for Tathar, he looked shocked and disappointed. The elflings had been looking forward to this excursion for a fortnight.
"And I am sorry to have to disappoint Tathar," said Edwen Nana. "But it is necessary that Laiqua understand that some behavior cannot be o'erlooked."
"I understand," said Erynmaethor. "Come, Tathar. We'd best be going. We have a long walk ahead of us."
Clutching his kite, Tathar looked back longingly at Laiqua, but there was nothing to be done. There were tears in the eyes of both elflings.
Silently Laiqua forced down a few mouthfuls of his breakfast and then wiped the table and tidied his bed as Nana washed and dried the dishes. When she had finished, she laid a covered plate upon the table.
"I had planned to spend this day in merriment with Tathar's Naneth, and I still plan to spend the day so. You may entertain yourself with your books in the cottage or your bow in the clearing. Under no circumstances are you to set foot in the forest. If any of your arrows go astray, leave them until I return. When you are hungry, you may sup upon this cold luncheon. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Nana," Laiqua said softly.
"And will you obey?"
"Yes, Nana."
"Good."
Edwen Nana drew on her cloak and departed, leaving behind a very mournful Laiqua. For a little while, he idly flipped through the pages of his favorite book, stopping when he came to the picture of the seagull. He sighed, looking over toward the corner of the cottage, where his kite rested against the wall. Suddenly he wondered whether the clearing were large enough to fly a kite. Edwen Nana had said he could play outside with his bow. She hadn't said that he couldn't play outside with anything else—only that he was not to leave the clearing. If he were standing in the clearing holding the string of a kite, surely that would be alright, wouldn't it?
Laiqua snatched up his kite and ran into the clearing. The wind was not very strong, and he had little room to maneuver, but at last he managed to get his toy aloft. It was not long, however, before the inevitable happened. The kite was snagged by a branch. Unfortunately, the branch in question was attached to the trunk of a tree that stood several feet back from the clearing—and Laiqua was not to leave the clearing. However, Laiqua quickly noticed that the bough itself—and the kite—hung over the clearing. Laiqua looked about carefully. At one end of the clearing stood the sole tree that he was permitted to climb. One of its boughs was adjacent to a branch that, like the branch upon which his kite was caught, forked out from a forbidden trunk while itself extending into the clearing. And that bough was next to another bough that was similarly situated. And so it went.
"I shall climb the tree that I am permitted to be in," Laiqua resolved. "From there I will leap to the adjacent branch, and from there to the next branch, and so on until I have reached the bough in which my kite is trapped. I will never set foot in the forest if I do so, and I will not have left the clearing!"
And that is exactly what he did. In short order, he laid triumphant hands upon his kite and then stood erect, surveying the clearing from this new vantage point.
As he balanced on the branch, he realized that a kite flown from this high would be well above most branches and not likely to be snagged. He held his kite up and ran along the bough. The breeze was much stronger here than on the floor of the forest, and the kite was caught and lifted almost immediately. Joyously, Laiqua made an aerial circuit of the clearing, leaped from branch to branch, always taking care, however, that it should be a bough that extended above the clearing so that he could never be said to have strayed into the forbidden forest.
When Laiqua had run out upon the first branch, the Watchers had suddenly appeared in the clearing, standing anxiously underneath him, muscles tense as they prepared to catch him should he fall. When he began to leap from bough to bough, the Watchers underneath him kept pace. Around and around they ran, striving to always stay directly beneath the elfling. At length, however, it became apparent to the Elves that Laiqua was no more likely to stumble in the air than he was upon the ground. They stopped pursuing him. Some immediately melted away back into the forest. Others, amused, stood watching the display for a time before joining their comrades in the woods. At last the clearing was once again empty save for the elfling who frolicked with his kite.
At length the sun began its descent to the westward horizon. The night wind came on, and the branches of the trees dipped and tossed. Laiqua laughed with exhilaration as he leaned his body this way and that, riding out the motions of the boughs. Almost he imagined that he stood upon the back of great galloping creature.
The sun dipped lower. Soon it would be dark. On a sudden impulse, Laiqua let go the string of his kite. The seagull soared into the air and, captured by the wind, flew away into the distance. Laiqua gazed after it until it had dwindled to a point and he could no longer make out its features.
"I will follow you someday," he promised, suddenly serious past his years, albeit not understanding his own feelings.
At that moment Edwen Nana was nearby, on the path that led to the clearing. She was trudging along laden with a haunch of deer that Tathar's mother had given her. "We have more meat than we need," she had assured the nursemaid, "Erynmaethor was well rewarded by the Seneschal for a wardrobe he lately built." She had not thought to tell the nursemaid that the carpenter had been instructed to decorate the new wardrobe with motifs suitable for a youngling, although no one had told him what young one could possibly be joining the household of the King. Had Tathar's mother mentioned the nature of Erynmaethors's commission, Edwen Nana would have been greatly distressed. As it was, the only thing that alarmed her was the sight of a kite sailing past above the trees, its string abandoned. She dropped the venison and ran the rest of the way to the clearing. Laiqua hailed her as soon as she emerged breathless from the woods.
"Up here, Nana," he called.
"Laiqua, what are you doing in that tree!?"
"I have been flying my kite. From here it stayed well above the trees and did not become entangled in branches. And Nana," he added emphatically. "I didn't leave the clearing. And you never said I couldn't fly my kite."
"True, Laiqua, I did not. You have not disobeyed. But how came you to lose your kite?"
"I didn't lose it, Nana," said Laiqua, climbing down from his perch. "I let it go. It has flown away to the west. I shall join it some day, I think."
Nonplussed, Edwen Nana stared at him.
"That youngling says the oddest things sometimes," she muttered to herself. Aloud she said, "Laiqua, bring you in the wood to heat the evening meal."
She hesitated a moment before continuing.
"And after you have carried in the wood, take the bucket to the spring and fetch water."
"But the Watchers, Nana? Won't they stop me?"
Edwen Nana raised her voice and directed her words toward the woods.
"If you are holding a bucket and stay on the path that leads to the spring, no, they will not stop you. Not as long as it is not full dark. Now haste ye, for it shall soon be that."
Laiqua cheerfully did as he was bidden. As for Edwen Nana, she went back to retrieve the meat that she had cast aside. To her surprise, no sooner had she set foot back into the forest than she found the haunch hanging safely from a branch next the path. The Watchers, she thought, were truly good-hearted Elves.
"Be sure that I shall cook you a fine mess of pottage," she announced to the silent trees. She felt a little guilty that in four years the guardians had received nothing at her hands other than hard words. Well, she resolved, she would make up for that. She wondered if the Watchers had any mending needed doing.
Laiqua returned with the water, chattering as excitedly as if he had been absent on a long quest. "The youngling cannot remain forever in this clearing," his nursemaid thought sadly. "Even were he not destined to be a leader and a warrior, he could not endure remaining quiet here. I shall lose him, and soon, I think."
She hid her fears from Laiqua, however. "Well," she said aloud, shaking her head, "this morning I was not sure whether I was punishing you for lying or for sneaking out at night. I had my doubts about your story. Now, however, I know that you were telling the truth when you said you had crept over the heads of the Watchers."
"Nana," exclaimed Laiqua indignantly, "when have you ever known me to lie to you?"
"Never, love," replied Edwen Nana, kissing him upon the forehead.
The day ended better than it had begun, with Laiqua excitedly relaying all his exploits to Edwen Nana, and the nursemaid for her part giving a droll account of the gossip she had shared with Tathar's mother over a quilt that they had pieced together. Edwen Nana regaled Laiqua with several tales at the expense of Tathar and Erynmaethor, and Laiqua looked forward to lightheartedly chaffing his friend over several of his misadventures.
As Edwen Nana tucked in Laiqua, she told him that Tathar's mother had said that Erynmaethor planned to return to the greensward in the very near future.
"This season the wind shall remain brisk for several more weeks. You shall have your chance at kite-flying in the company of Tathar—if you behave, of course!"
"Oh, I will," Laiqua assure her. "And, Nana, I did not mean to do wrong this morning. I wanted to surprise you."
"I know that, Laiqua, and I was touched, even if I did not allow myself to show it. Still, even if your intentions are good, it is necessary to think of consequences. There is a reason why you are kept from the forest even in the daytime, let alone at night."
"Tathar is allowed in the forest if he stays within hearing," Laiqua pointed out.
"I know, Laiqua, but Tathar's situation is very different from yours. Someday it will all be explained to you."
"Probably soon," she added to herself.
Laiqua sighed. From the resolute tilt of Edwen Nana's head, he knew the nursemaid would tell him no more tonight.
"Nana, I need to make a new kite."
"And whose fault is that!?"
Laiqua colored.
"I do not know what came over me, Nana. Truly I don't. I had to let the seagull go."
"As I shall have to let you," thought Edwen Nana.
"Will you help me make another one, Nana?" Laiqua asked hopefully.
"Of course, love. Will it be another seagull?"
"No, this time it shall be an eagle. Seagulls are for dreaming; eagles for fighting. I will be a warrior someday, won't I, Nana?"
"Yes. Yes, Laiqua," Edwen Nana said sadly. "You will indeed be a warrior."
"Don't be sad, Nana! I will always come back."
"Always?" said Edwen Nana. "It takes a long time before something is 'always' true. But never mind that. Sleep now."
Laiqua was tired from all the excitement of the day and fell asleep almost immediately. Edwen Nana, however, sat up long after he had fallen asleep. Unbidden, these words came to her mind: Onen i-ethuil Edain; ú-chebin ethuil anim.
"I have given a new season to Men; for myself I have kept no spring," she murmured. "I nourish this Greenleaf for another—as I have ever done. And the Elves, they nourish Arda for others, for when spring passes into summer, the Elves shall no longer dwell in Middle Earth."
Edwen Nana arose, shaking off these musings with a laugh.
"Whence come these dreary thoughts?" she said briskly.
But although she pushed these words from her mind for the time being, they were never again far from her thoughts.