A/N: I would like to take this time to thank both Idhrenwen and Becky who have been invaluable during the writing of this final chapter. Their beta-ing skills are superb and they picked out things that I could have never have hoped to spot. So, to both of you, I raise my goblet and say "Cheers! Thanks a million and although this will sound cliched, I simply could not have done it without you". Ta, chucks! :) HUGE HUGS!!!!
Well, this is it. The final chapter of Little Swan in which we find out what happens in the end. Boy, I'm glad I finally finished this - it's been a hard work, I can tell you! But I'll be sad to leave it behind, all the same....anyway.....What will happen to Beleril and Naelie? Will any wildmen be discovered on the scout? Read on to find out. :)
Title: Little Swan
Pairing: None
Rating: R
Genre: Angst / Drama
WARNING: Violence
Beta: Becky and Idhrenwen
Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Celeborn, Galadriel, OCs
Disclaimer: I own no-one from The Lord Of The Rings. All the characters and place names displayed belong to JRR Tolkien except Seòras, Naelie, Bricta and Beleril who are from my own imagination and therefore are the only ones I lay claim to. I do not intend to, nor am I making any financial gain from the writing of this story.
Feedback: Yes please! We "aspiring" authors thrive on the stuff.
Timeline: Before the War of the Ring. Not following movie-verse.
Summary: After her mother's brutal execution, young Naelie and her father are left to piece their lives back together. But the outside world, will not allow this.
Chapter 10
It was not long after Naelie had slipped back to bed, that Orophin did so too. Fatigue was beginning to slowly creep up upon the elf and he soon, he even had some trouble keeping himself awake through nibbling of lembas. He has glad therefore that his post was quickly taken over by an elf named Fiadaer, and Orophin lay down upon the flet, grateful for whatever time for slumber remained.
Orophin felt as though he had only just lain down to sleep when he was being shaken awake by his brother.
"Come on," urged Haldir softly, "time to get going".
Orophin cursed Haldir inwardly for his abrupt and unwelcome wakening call. But after a sip from his water skin and a bite of lembas, Orophin found himself feeling considerably better.
"Alright," said Haldir moving to stand in front of the seated elves. "As I explained yesterday, we are to divide into two separate groups and search the area for any sign of wildmen. Remember, if you come across a village, you may enter it, but do so with caution. And for Elbereth's sake, be sure to keep your hoods up. Ask questions to whomever you will, but please remember, do not knock on doors unless specifically directed by a member of the village."
The elves around him murmured their assent and soon they returned to their own occupations of re-arranging their packs.
Elured, the elf who had questioned Haldir back at the great mallorn, approached his captain and said something in a hushed voice. Haldir nodded and spoke again to those assembled.
"Forgive me," he said, causing them to turn around and listen. "I forgot to mention that anyone wishing to refill their water skins may do so at the brook through the east trees." Haldir paused and gestured the direction, then continued. "Only two of you may go at the same time, for I do not wish to alert anything that may be in the woods to our presence".
"But Haldir, we walk without sound. How would that alert anything?" said Rumil.
"Yes Rumil. But you do not speak without sound" replied Haldir seriously.
"Oh." Rumil fell silent now that his confusion had been cleared.
Anyone that felt the need to refill their skins, did so both swiftly and efficiently, returning to the flet just minutes after they had first left. Soon, there were no more reasons to stay, and Haldir gave the orders to move out. As soon as the group had reached the very fringe of the forest outskirts, Haldir divided those around him into two smaller groups.
"Fiadaer, Rumil, Naelie and Tadrien. You four come with me. We'll scout to the east, and the rest of you, to the west. Is that understood?"
The elven scouts nodded their understanding and quickly went their separate ways. The scout had begun.
For the rest of the morning, Fiadaer, Rumil, and Naelie kept their eyes firmly open for any tell-tale signs of wildmen, but they found none. There were no tracks, or heavily trodden vegetation. Haldir and Tadrien had gone ahead, investigating the area for any settlements or people that may be able to aid their cause.
Just as Rumil paused for a minute, and took out his water skin to refresh himself, there came two figures on the horizon. Rumil squinted against the glaring sunlight, saw that it was only Tadrien and Haldir and felt most grateful for it, for he was not really in the mood and certainly did not feel he had enough energy for a battle.
"There's a village up ahead," reported Haldir as he approached the trio. "It's not far, about a mile or so from here."
Taking the opportunity, Rumil took a last long draught from his skin and replaced it inside his pack. "Let's get going then," he said, standing up once more.
The village was, as Haldir had correctly estimated, only just over a mile away and the small group reached it quickly as the terrain was fairly easy going. As the company neared the village, Naelie's eyes travelled slowly upwards to the tips of the towering wooden stakes that had been placed around the village to form a kind of protective wall. They finally came to an oak gate, which strangely enough was unbolted. So, upon seeing and hearing no defence on the villagers' parts, they entered the village, taking care to be ever wary. Scattered around were sturdy wooden huts of varying sizes. As they passed one particularly small one, Rumil couldn't help but smile as he noticed three young children playing some sort of tag game with a branch outside.
They continued walking in an attempt to find someone to ask their questions. But strangely enough, most of the village appeared to be deserted. However, as they rounded the corner of a building, they discovered the reason. Small stalls had been set up along the far wall, and there were many people, hustling and bustling around the stands as the traders called out their wares. Suddenly, a young man dressed in a pale brown tunic clutching a melon to his chest hurried by.
"Excuse me sir?"
The man stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. His face was very pallid; a sign that he had recently been a victim of a malady of some kind. His mousy brown hair was cut quite short and very unkempt and his hands shook quite violently as he tried hard to keep a grasp upon the melon. He looked at Naelie with inquiring watery green eyes, as though sizing her up.
"Y-y-yes?" he spoke, stammering slightly.
"We are sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if you have heard or seen about a clan of wildmen in these parts?"
The young man shook his head. "Oi'm afraid oi 'aven't, miss. A-a-a-a-ltho', yer migh' wan' ter ask at the 'ouse up the 'ill, s-s-s-see? There's an old chap 'o lives there. Don't m-m-miss much, 'e don't."
The man pointed in the direction of a quite shabby looking house built at the top of a small hill towards the staked wall. The hand-built chimney had a thin stream of smoke issuing from its mouth and the heads of flowers underneath the windows bobbed their heads in time to the wind's tune.
"Thank –"
Naelie had turned to thank the man for his help, but he had disappeared. Looking through the crowds, she saw him staggering away, still clutching his melon. Shaking her head, she returned to the elves. "What an odd man".
"What did he say?" asked Fiadaer.
"He doesn't know anything about the wildmen, but he suggested we try the house up the hill".
The small group of five soon made their way to the foot of the small hill, and then walked briskly to the wooden front door. No sounds came from inside, and the only clue that anyone was at home was the smoking chimney.
Moving forward, Haldir rapped lightly on the door and stood back, waiting for an answer. They did not have long to wait, for no sooner had Haldir stood back, the door opened to reveal an much older man with short greying hair and patched clothes.
"We are sorry to disturb you, sir," began Rumil clearly, "but we were wondering if you had heard anything about clans of wildmen in these parts".
The man didn't answer. Instead, he gazed, wide-eyed at the assembled group before him.
Rumil looked round at the others in confusion and puzzlement. Then, turning back to the man, he continued. "Is there something amiss?"
At Rumil's words, the man seemed to come back to his senses and he shook his head. "No, there is nothing wrong. But you are elves, are you not? All but you," he said suddenly, looking at Naelie. "You are human, that I can tell".
Haldir's eyes widened considerably at this. He glanced around in concern to see if anyone nearby had heard the man's claims. Thankfully, because of the market ruckus, there was barely anyone around to hear him. Haldir breathed a sigh of relief.
"May we come in?" asked Haldir, in little more than a whisper.
The man, although utterly perplexed as to the reason why elves should choose to visit his house, admitted the group and shut the door quickly behind him. Once inside, they lowered their hoods to expose their gleaming hair and the tips of their ears, as they were free to do so in the company of one who had guessed their identity. Naelie lowered her hood, though she had no need it made her feel more comfortable.
"Would you please bolt your door?" Haldir requested his face grave.
Slightly disconcerted, the man did as Haldir asked and then moved over to the fire to check the small pot of broth that was simmering above the logs.
"Please" he said, moving away from the flames. "Sit".
Naelie and the elves sat upon the vacated chairs. Once comfortable, Naelie took the opportunity to observe her surroundings.
The walls were all wooden, but sturdy and built well. The floor was covered in a thin woven cloth with a few animal rugs upon the floor. The walls were adorned with the pelts and heads of various animals including deer and rabbits. The man, Naelie decided, was most certainly a hunter by trade. The house itself was one levelled and also consisted of only one room, although the man's sleeping and washing quarters were not screened from view, which meant that he most likely lived alone.
The man also proved to be a most gracious host, for he offered his visitors a warming berry cordial, which they accepted gratefully, having lived only on increasingly stale water for almost two days.
"May I ask how you knew we were elves?" asked Tadrien finally, setting down his steaming goblet on a nearby table.
The man nodded and sat down after ladling some cordial into his own goblet. "When I was a small boy, my parents told me tales of your kind. My mother used to tell me in great detail about you and your appearances – especially eyes. She used to say that 'the eyes of a man shine with the rays of the sun, but if you watched the eyes of an elf, you could see their joy as starlight that dances and frolics from inside their very being'"
"Your mother was very wise then," replied Tadrien and then added thoughtfully. "She knows of things that most of your kind have long forgotten."
The man nodded. "She possessed great wisdom indeed," he replied with a slight smile. He took a sip of his cordial and continued. "What is it that bring you to our village?"
It was Haldir that spoke. "We have heard tell that clans of wildmen have crossed the borders of your land. Have your heard also of this rumour?"
The man rubbed his forehead for a few seconds, as though thinking deeply before replying slowly. "Yes, I did hear something of that from a man down at the market. Seems they have settled north of our borders just west of here, somewhere near the mountains."
"Settled?" Fiadaer raised a brow.
The man shrugged. "Or so I have heard," he said. "We have heard no word of any damage caused by them, though someone came to our village and informed us they had witnessed a wildman encampment. Though the man hadn't ventured close enough, to be entirely sure. The signs were all there; however, roughly assembled huts and burnt ground were the two that he could clearly see from far off".
"Have you or your village had dealings with wildmen before now?" asked Haldir.
The man stiffened for a few seconds, bit his bottom lip and gazed off into the distance. Looking on, the elves were certain they could see the beginnings of tears welling up in the corners of the man's eyes, but he blinked them away as soon as he sensed them watching him intently.
"Only twice," replied the man, slightly thickly. "The first, when I was just a young man. We managed to fend them off without much loss, but the second-" He hesitated at this point, as though trying his best to either not let something slip, picking his words carefully, or else the topic was extremely sensitive for him.
Those gathered around at that time, could sense clearly his inward distress, and they waited patiently. Finally, the man felt able to speak again and did so, though his attempt to masquerade his woe did not deceive those listening. They could sense the pain as he spoke of his past experiences and see the torment that was reflected in his eyes.
"The second," he continued, "was the most terrible experience of my life. You see, once I had a wife and a daughter. My wife was killed a while before this, in circumstances I do not wish to speak of at this moment. But, after my wife's tragic death, I was left alone with my child and given all the responsibilities of a woman as well as a man. I had to care for her needs, more than ever before. But I did not care, for she was mine, and I was hers." The man ended with a ragged breath, as though relating these past event was both physically as well as mentally painful for him.
Haldir suddenly spoke up. "If you feel unable to tell us of these events," he said, both softly and kindly to the man, "then you must not feel pressured to do so. Understand that with us, you are under no obligation."
The man shook his head. "No," he said, louder than he intended. "I will tell you of this, for I feel I need to."
Taking a long draught of his steaming mug, the man continued. "Then, on one night, my daughter came to me, woke me and alerted me of the fires that were blazing in our village. I knew, by the sounds of the bloodthirsty, wild voices and the sight of the ravaged village that we were even now in the middle of a siege. I took my daughter and ran from the house. It was only seconds after that; our house went up in flames. And, just when it seemed things could get no worse, we without warning had a few wildmen tailing us. I don't know how far or long I ran, but soon we reached the woods just beyond our borders. I hid my daughter there; foolishly thinking she would be safe, then I ran back and fought the wildmen as best I could. I killed one, but I was struck unconscious before I could fell the other. Later, when I awoke, I found that I was completely alone. I ran back to where I had hidden my daughter, clinging to the vain hope I had that she may still live-"
Caught off guard again by a fresh strike of grief, the man hung his head and shuddered as he fought back the wave of anguish that was threatening to engulf him. Again, those listening sat and waited with patience and great sympathy clearly evident in their eyes.
The man roughly wiped away the dampness of his eyes with the back of his hand, and drawing a long breath, he persevered with his tragic tale.
"I soon reached the clearing," he said, his voice thick with suppressed emotion, "I searched my daughter's hiding place and found no trace of her. I tried to call out, but I was in too much pain to create more than a faint whisper. Finally, I found what remained of my daughter – a thin piece of her clothing." He chanced a look up at his listeners and saw the shock upon their faces, and recognized the deep sympathy they felt for him. Then, summoning what remained of his voice, he stammered out his final words to them. "It is all I h-have left of her now."
As though finally bowled over by the towering wave of agony, the man crumpled beneath it and sobbed openly into his cupped palms as though his heart would break.
The elves glanced at each other, completely unsure of what to do. Naelie, however, did not look up. Her ears were tingling with the man's words. Her heart raced in her chest, the blood pounding in her ears like thundering drums of war. It couldn't be. Her father was dead; she knew that. Shaking herself violently, she pushed away the thoughts. It was impossible, absurd even to think such a thing.
Looking up, she watched for a second as the man wept, and taking a deep breath, she left her seat and went to kneel by him.
"Sir," she whispered to him, "may I do anything to help you?"
Still not raising his head, the man shook his head. "No" he replied, his voice muffled with the combination of thick material and tears. "No one can help me now."
Realizing that she could not persuade him to raise his head, she spoke softly to him. "Sir, what is your name?"
To her surprise, the man looked up. "My name?" he repeated.
Naelie nodded.
"It is Tristram," he replied solemnly.
Naelie's heart sank, but she nodded in thanks and returned to her seat. Her throat felt tight, and her hands shook as she seated herself. She berated herself mentally for her idiocy. How could she have thought it could have been so? It must have been a coincidence. Yet, there was something about the way he spoke, a softness that stirred some recollection in her. She gazed intently at him for a few seconds and suddenly, the word came out of her mouth even before she was prepared for it.
"Father?"
Suddenly, the room felt cold, stiff and unwelcoming as the man looked up sharply.
"What did you say?" he asked, stunned.
Naelie swallowed hard and looked determinedly at her knees. "Forgive me," she replied. "I meant not to say that."
The man glared at her, his gaze cold and stern. "How dare you" he hissed through clenched teeth. Naelie did not move her gaze to the man, a sudden feeling of fear creeping into her veins, chilling her blood as she registered his icy, hard and angry stare.
Suddenly, before any of them were prepared for it, the man leapt to his feet, and his once welcoming grey eyes were now tinged with a hint of malice. "GET OUT!" he yelled, striding over to the door and flinging it open with such force that it bounced off the wall.
Naelie froze, looking up at the elves who were all now on their feet, putting up their hoods once more and preparing to leave upon his request. She followed suit, now loathing her actions. As she stood and made her way over to the door, she looked up at the man towering above her. "I am truly sorry," she said, plea in her voice.
"OUT!"
Like a hunted rabbit, Naelie scampered from the house and flinched as the door slammed and bolted. Tears spilled from her eyes as she ran for solitude. Shuddering, she sank down upon a boulder, trying in vain to control her spiralling emotions. A gentle hand closed upon her shoulder and turning round; she saw Haldir's understanding face.
"I am sorry," she said meekly. "I did not mean for that to happen."
"Naelie," Haldir said kindly but firmly, kneeling in front of her. "You called that man your father. Why?"
Naelie swallowed her tears and forced herself to look Haldir in the eye. "For a moment back there, his tale seemed to fit that of my own. It seemed so right, and then suddenly so wrong".
"Yet," continued Haldir, "he gave you a name different from the one you knew?"
Naelie nodded. "But it is impossible," she said finally. "I am so sorry."
Then, a voice, barely a whisper spoke up from behind them. "You asked him his name?"
The elves all whipped around, finding themselves face to face with an old woman, leaning upon a knobbed walking stick. Her hair was wispy and whiter than the purest snow, and she was dressed in browns and greens and clutched a mottled shawl about her thin neck. Though quite thin, she did not seem unhealthy, even for an old woman. She looked upon the assembled group with beady, knowing eyes, black as a raven's wing, and waited patiently for their answer.
"I did," replied Naelie, stunned by the woman's abrupt appearance. "What of it?"
"What did he say his name was?" the woman queried, seemingly indifferent to the elves' presence.
"Tristram," replied Naelie. "Why?"
"Do you know what the name means, young-one?"
"No, I do not." By this time, Naelie was extremely confused, yet eager to hear more. There was something about this old woman. Naelie regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. Although this stranger appeared kindly, Naelie got the somewhat unsettling feeling that she knew something they didn't, almost as though she was hiding something from them.
"It means 'sorrowful'," explained the woman. "You see, young one. Many years ago, he was the victim of a terrible calamity. First his wife was executed, charged with several crimes, some of which she did not commit, then he lost his daughter in a raid. His grief almost killed him, but we managed to make him see the good in life again, yet he refuses to forget either of them." She gestured to the ground outside the house where two bluebells were lolling lazily in the breeze. "They were planted there, a week after he returned," she said. "He looks after them every day, and ne'er have they withered. See? One for his wife, the other for his daughter".
"So, if he changed his name," Naelie said, her sudden excitement clear as tolling bells in her voice, "what was it before?"
"Seòras," replies the old woman. "It means 'earth-worker'."
Naelie's eyes widened. "Father." she whispered.
The old woman smiled. "Yes, I surmised as much, young one. I knew you when you were only a small child, and even now, you still hold the same spark for life in your eye that your mother had."
Naelie stood deep in shock, as did the elves. Haldir stared, wide-eyed at the woman as though in awe of her wisdom.
Then, without warning, Naelie rushed back up the hill and hammered on the door. From inside, a low, angry muttering could be heard and seconds later, the door was flung open.
Upon seeing the man again, Naelie lost all sense of reasoning and flung herself about his waist. "Father!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.
Seòras grabbed Naelie about the wrists and wrenched her roughly from him. Looking up, he stared at her, his eyes wide and livid with rage. "My daughter is dead!" he snarled. He turned his attention to the old woman who was still standing nearby. "What have you been telling this young woman, Armes? "
"Simply your true name," Armes replied simply. "I may be old, Seòras, but I am no fool, nor am I blind to the truth. She is your daughter, Seòras."
"She cannot be," he cried, his voice shrill with fury. "My daughter is dead. I found her ripped clothing. Dead, you hear me? DEAD!" With the last shout, he slammed the door once again in Naelie's face and bolted it, leaving her to sink down upon on the steps and finally to dissolve into floods of tears. Rumil and Fiadaer hurried to comfort her, while the old woman stared stony faced at the bolted door.
Beside her, Haldir and Tadrien looked on in amazement and bewilderment. Was the woman really speaking the truth? Suddenly, it seemed plausible and yet, still altogether impossible.
"He will believe, young one," Armes assured Naelie, still keeping her distance.
"How can he?" Naelie sobbed.
"Try again," the old woman urged her to stand. "When you were in there, did he mention your name at all? Did you tell him your name?"
"No, I did not."
"Knock on the door again and tell him it is you. Shout if you will, tell him your name and I promise, he will believe".
Spurred on by Armes' assurance, Naelie stood and called out fretfully to him, pleading for him to believe her, but still there was no sound from inside. Naelie was almost ready to give up when the old woman joined in on her behalf.
"You daughter is here, Seòras. She is, and you will believe it. Do you want to lose her again?"
Finally, the door opens slowly, and those outside held their breath in hope. In the wooden doorframe, Seòras stood, his face tear-streaked and gazing down at Naelie, wonder in his eyes. "What did you say your name was?" he asked slowly, yet unsurely, almost certain he would wake up from a dream at any moment.
"Naelie," she said, breathless from her yelling.
"Oh Valar!" he murmured softly, tears beginning to flood down his face. Bending down, he placed his hands upon her shoulders, as though checking she was really there and not some strange hallucination. "It's you. It really is you!" With a joyful cry, he embraced his daughter tightly and wept openly about her neck.
The elves look on happily and smiling silently, the old woman turned to go back down the hill to her own home. Seeing the woman depart, Naelie called to her to wait and hurried down the hill after her.
"I cannot thank you enough," Naelie told her, her voice ringing with elation. "If you hadn't been there when you were, my father and I may never have set eyes upon each other again."
The woman smiled gently and placed a kind hand upon Naelie's shoulder. "My child," she replied throatily, "it was not because of me, that this came about, it was the truth you felt in your heart. Hold onto that, my child and you can never take the wrong course."
Then, placing a kiss upon Naelie's forehead, Armes departed with a smile and made her way back to her home.
Accompanied by several other elves, Beleril approached the group quietly using light, barely perceptible footsteps. When he arrived, Beleril noted Naelie embracing a townsman and realized she had found her father. At that moment, the young elf felt a great ache pierce the very core of his heart.
"Naelie?" he asked uncertainly.
Looking up, Naelie saw the pain in Beleril's face which caused all her joyous and happy thoughts to seem strangely insignificant. Her smile faded from her face and her legs felt suddenly numb. Gazing up into the elf's sorrowful face, she felt her eyes beginning to well over. Forgetting everything for one brief second, Naelie rushed up to him, threw her arms about his neck and sobbed as though her heart would break.
"Oh, Bel," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Why must this be so difficult? And now ...?"
Beleril wiped away his own tears as he held Naelie tight against his chest. "I know it is hard, Naelie," he replied, "but I think we both know what must happen." Despite his brave words, Beleril had to swallow hard to prevent himself from crumpling under the immense pain he was feeling. His heart was hammering against his chest, causing the emotive ache to worsen still.
"But you've been like my brother, Bel. I just can't bear to let you go!" Naelie collapsed against him, crying hard as fresh new tears made their appearance. "It's so unfair!"
"Some things are never fair, Naelie, Naelie" he whispered to her. "But as for letting me go, well, that would be impossible. I will be with you always in your mind and heart, and I will make sure to visit you often."
At this, Naelie's sobs seemed to soften, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to look him in the face. At the corners of her mouth, there was the faint hint of a smile.
"Really? You'll visit me?"
Beleril laughed gently. "Why, of course I will. You didn't think I would let you leave us forever, did you?"
Naelie face broke into a wide smile, and she began to weep again. But this time, they were tears of joy and not of grief. Bending down, Beleril kissed her on the cheek and stepped back as Haldir and Rumil stepped forward.
"You wish to stay then?" asked Haldir with a kind smile, and though his eyes too were glistening with tears, he fought to prevent them from spilling over.
"I do," Naelie replied. "I have lost my father once before, I cannot do so again. But Haldir, I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me."
Haldir chuckled. "There is no need to thank me, Naelie. Just make sure you keep practising with your sword. You never know when I may show up to test you!"
Now it was Naelie's turn to grin. "I will make sure I do then!"
Haldir nodded, then bending down, he embraced Naelie warmly. Rumil then stepped forward, a few tears trickling down his cheeks not making any attempt to hide his true emotion. "Visit us sometime, Naelie. You will always be welcome in Lorien," he said turning his gaze to Seòras. "as will all of your family".
From behind Fiadaer, Orophin was fumbling with the clasp upon his cloak and as soon as he was unlatched it, he hurried forward and pressed it into Naelie's hand. Looking down, Naelie gasped. Orophin had given her his silver brooch in the shape of an acorn, delicately wrought of the finest mithril with tiny shining emeralds encrusted into the cup.
"Just a gift to remember us by, Naelie," he said, smiling, pleased at her reaction.
"Very appropriate too," came Seòras' low but approving voice. "New beginnings"
"Yes," nodded Orophin with admiration. "You are swift in your knowledge, sir."
Eventually, after the farewells had been said, the elves prepared themselves to leave and Orophin quickly attached a spare clasp to his cloak, lent to him by Tadrien. When they departed, the elves waved farewell to the reunited pair as Seòras hugged his daughter close to him. Looking back over his shoulder, Beleril smiled broadly at Naelie and waved lovingly to her. Seeing this, Naelie grinned and blew a kiss to him and waved in return. Beleril felt his smile widen, but managed to prevent his cheeks becoming tinged with pink. Finally, the elves disappeared around a house, and Seòras looked down adoringly at his daughter.
"Shall we go in?"
Naelie nodded happily and following her father; they retreated inside the house…together once more.
One evening, Beleril stood upon his balcony, gazing out at Caras Galadhon by night, tiny flickering lights of candles glimmering through the dark. He watched as a company of fireflies danced and frolicked above the candle lantern above the balcony ledge, then his head turned quickly as he heard the soft fluttering of wings.
Looking down, he saw the mother sparrow settle herself upon protectively upon her brood and close her eyes contentedly. Family, the young elf thought, smiling to himself was truly a wonderful thing.
The elves had continued scouting the area for several days after Naelie had returned to her father, but had found no evidence to support the rumour of the wildmen settling. So, the scouts had finally returned to Lorien, and Haldir reported back to the lord and lady, both of whom seemed satisfied with the outcome of the scout.
From below, came the sound of cheerful conversation. Gazing over the rim, Beleril saw Rumil and Nadia enjoying a tender romantic stroll through the city.
Haldir had discovered their long kept secret when they had returned to Lorien, and Nadia had been there to greet Rumil with a loving kiss. Rumil had been somewhat concerned as to Haldir's reaction, but to everyone's surprise, Haldir was neither hostile or disapproving. It transpired later that he was just glad Rumil had found an elleth and had stayed with her for longer than a night. And even though that elleth was Nadia, he seemed determined to make an effort to learn to accept her and maybe sometime in the distant future, to befriend her.
Beleril soon returned to his own thoughts, the same they had been all day. Naelie. Although he was deeply grieved that she had left Lorien, he knew he would see her again someday, and possibly soon. Mulling over in his mind, he considered the importance of families and sighed. Although he had no family left of his own, he knew that while he lived in Lorien, his family were his close friends and the glorious world that they resided in. Beleril felt a certain bliss in this knowledge.
Reaching up, and being careful not to awaken the mother sparrow, he took down the lantern. Gently, he blew out the golden flame from the lantern and replaced it, leaving behind only a thin tail of translucent smoke. Then, yawning slightly, Beleril made his way back inside his talan, taking care to close the door quietly behind him. Moving to his bed, he removed his tunic, unclasped his hair and shook it free about his bare shoulders. Then, opening the wooden cabinet beside his bed, he placed the clasp back inside its box and was about to close the drawer, when something caught his eye. Beleril shifted the few books in the drawer to reveal a thin scrap of parchment. Curious, he pulled it from its hiding place and upon seeing what was upon it; he smiled as a tear ran down his cheek. The parchment held a preserved charcoal drawing and beside it was written "Belherril. Thank you for helping me. Love Naelie".
Beleril's throat tightened as he looked upon the drawing. He had to quickly place it back in the drawer though, before his tears fell and smudged it. Quickly, he changed into his nightclothes and slipped under the covers, his mind swimming with memories. He smiled gently to himself. He would see her again. Someday. Hopefully someday soon. Then, blowing out the candle beside his bed, Beleril placed his fair head upon his downy pillow and sighed. Finally, closing his eyes he fell immediately into a well earned and peaceful slumber; to await the dawn that would undoubtedly bring new adventures and new beginnings.
Fin
PS: If anyone is interested, the final word count for the entirety of "Little Swan" is: 33,306!!!!! :)