OF A CONVERSATION BETWEEN HUINLAS AND MYSELF
Dear Arwing,
I do apologize for the length of time that has passed in the interim between your last letter and my response. I received your letter three days ago, and after speaking with you at the banquet two nights ago, and riding with you yesterday, I didn't feel I had anything to write. But now, once again I have things to say.
It sounds like you've been having a time of it lately! What a horrible dream! It was a dream, wasn't it? Or was it more like when I was looking at Huinlas and -- oh. Never mind. I don't want to think about that.
Yes, I know of what my mother speaks. I am her daughter, after all. The deeds of the War of the Ring were great, and many were valiant in the pursuit of victory. My parents were but two of many, and it may be the parts they played will swiftly be forgotten in the generations of peace that follow. Though, dear, I really hope not, for I am rather proud of them. (Am I a bit biased, perhaps)
As it happens, I have a tale for you which you might be interested to hear.
Last night, after we had finished our ride (which was lovely, I must add) and you had gone to begin your vigil by Boromir's side, I began walking back to the palace. I walked slowly, for the stars were quite bright and especially beautiful. The city was quiet, for it was an hour or two past sunset.
Then, out of the silence, I heard someone calling my name. I looked around slowly, wondering who it could possibly be.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught the shimmer of elven clothing and recognized Huinlas almost dancing down the street towards me. He had a smile on his face.
"Silwen, here you are," he said, stopping just in front of me and taking both my hands.
I stared at him in surprise.
He laughed. "I have been looking for you everywhere."
"I have only just left the stables. Arwing and I were riding together," I replied.
At the mention of your name his face became serious. "So late?"
"It wasn't late when we left," I answered, as if I had an excuse.
"Ah. I suppose it is of no consequence," he said, trying to look at ease.
There was an awkward silence.
We stood without moving, my hands still in his, until I became a bit figity and tried to remove my hands. This succeeded in nothing except to revive Huinlas.
"I would like to talk with you, Silwen. May I?"
"Of course," I answered.
He turned and started walking. I had to walk beside him, for he still held my right hand.
"I would like to apologize for leaving you without an answer for so long," he began.
"Without an answer?"
"Yes, I had promised to explain why I wished to take you to Mirkwood, and as of yet I have not fulfilled that promise."
If it has gone this long it is probably of little significance, I thought to myself.
"Pardon?" asked Huinlas.
I eyed him with disbelief and suspicion. "I have said nothing."
Huinlas almost looked embarrassed.
"Boromir has asked me to tell you," he continued warily.
"Boromir?" I said.
"Yes, Boromir. I told him before I left, but I couldn't tell you."
"Why not?" I asked jealously.
"Patience, Silwen. The time was not right. Now I may tell you."
I looked away. "Go on."
"I showed you my ring on the Greenway, did I not?"
"You did," I answered. The mention of it sent a shiver down my back.
Huinlas noticed.
"Your character is not one which is faint of heart, Silwen. Do not become so as I speak to you."
I did not know how answer.
"I went to Mirkwood to discover the answer to a question. A question which has been haunting me since the day I received the ring."
"When was that?" I asked.
He smiled. "Many years ago, by your count."
"Where did you get it from?"
"It was a gift, an heirloom. It was passed from parent to child for many thousands of years."
"So your father gave it to you?"
"No, my mother. She is by lineage of the Noldor, kin of the Lady Galadriel."
"I did not know you had relatives in Lorien!"
"Of old I did. But now the mellyrn trees sway silently in the wind, and the niphredil bloom unheeded. The ring bearers were the last to leave Lothlorien, and now none remain."
"And your mother?"
"She lives in Mirkwood. It was to her I had to go for my answer. She knows the lore of the Two rings, for it closely concerns her."
"Oh, I love tales. Please tell me where the rings are from," I pleaded.
Huinlas smiled. "Long ago the Noldor were a people greatly skilled in the forging of rings and the work of stone and metal. Of them were the Silmarils were made, and the three rings of power for the protection and enrichment of Middle-earth. They also made, in secret, two other rings. For it was foreshadowed there would come a time when even the rule of the Three would come to an end. In preparation for this time they forged the Two rings, the Rings of Seven Stars. They were long kept in secret, and few heard of their existence save only those who were their keepers. Never were they worn, for the power in them was reserved for the two bearers who were yet to come. Do you follow me?" We stopped walking. We had reached the gate for the fifth level. Huinlas looked at me.
"I believe so. But, you wear the ring. You must be the one foretold."
"One of the two."
"Of course," I said.
Huinlas lead the way through the pass door to the fourth level. We continued down the broad, empty street.
"What are the rings for?" I asked.
"For the protection and guidance of Middle-earth and those who in it live. They are akin to the Three rings, save with greater power."
He paused.
"What kind of power?" I asked.
"Power to heal hurts and ward against evil. Power to give wisdom and cause a desire for knowledge."
"Huinlas! Oh, Huinlas!" I shouted. "That means you can heal Boromir! Come we must go, now! Back to Boromir! Come, come! Why do you stop me?"
He held my hand firmly and would not let go. I stood looking wildly at him, not knowing what to think.
"Why do you hold me back? Why do you not follow?" I asked in a quivering voice. "Boromir could be dying, even now."
His face was deeply troubled. "Silwen," he began.
"No!" I shouted. "Don't try to calm me, I will not be calm. I do not see why you halt, why you stall for time that may not wait."
"There are two rings, Silwen. Two. There is significance in this, Silwen."
"I don't see any," I pouted.
"There are two rings; they have power only when united in common purpose."
"Oh," was all I could manage to say. I turned around, crossed my arms and wrapped them around my neck. Hope had been so bright for that one second, and now it was crushed to nothing. Nothing.
I heard Huinlas walking up behind me. His footsteps were soft and slow. He took my hand and turned me around.
I did not look up.
"Where is the other ring?" I asked, looking at his hands. "Who carries it?"
"I do not know."
"How could you not know?" I asked, amazed.
"The second ring was lost."
"Lost? Is this the question that has been troubling you for so long?" "It is," he replied.
"But how will you find it?" I asked.
Huinlas started to chant a poem, softly and rhythmically,
"Seven stars set in a silver sea,
and seven awakening.
Seven stars set in a silver sea,
and seven beckoning.
Seven stars set in a silver sea,
and seven answering."
He ended. I stood still, entranced. A cool breeze rippled through my hair and tossed my skirt.
"I have heard that before." I whispered.
"Have you?" he asked, looking at me intently.
"Yes, or something similar."
His gaze intensified. "Where?" His voice sounded commanding, not like the Huinlas I was accustomed to. It reminded me of the voice in my nightmare.
"I don't know. I don't remember." I stuttered.
"Think!" he told me.
I tried. I thought and thought until I was sure I had become mad.
Then it came to me.
"Arwing. It was in Arwing's poem. The poem she said you sent her. The poem the king took. Yes, it was in that poem."
It felt as if a great weight was lifted from me. I felt as if I had been holding my breath and now I could breathe freely again.
"Arwing sent it to you?" he asked. His voice was deep and strange. I felt as if I was facing an enemy.
"Huinlas, you frighten me!" I said, stepping away from him and taking my hand.
He put his hand on his forehead. His brow became furrowed, and the horrible questioning look returned to his eyes.
"Arwing," I heard him whisper.
"Huinlas, what is all this about? How is Arwing concerned with this?"
He seemed to forcefully push away the expression, and his eyes melted back to their deep blue.
"If only I knew," he answered.
And that, my friend, was the end of the conversation. I wish I had more to tell, but I have told all I know. It is so strange.
Mellonlín,
a very confused and tired Silwen
I do apologize for the length of time that has passed in the interim between your last letter and my response. I received your letter three days ago, and after speaking with you at the banquet two nights ago, and riding with you yesterday, I didn't feel I had anything to write. But now, once again I have things to say.
It sounds like you've been having a time of it lately! What a horrible dream! It was a dream, wasn't it? Or was it more like when I was looking at Huinlas and -- oh. Never mind. I don't want to think about that.
Yes, I know of what my mother speaks. I am her daughter, after all. The deeds of the War of the Ring were great, and many were valiant in the pursuit of victory. My parents were but two of many, and it may be the parts they played will swiftly be forgotten in the generations of peace that follow. Though, dear, I really hope not, for I am rather proud of them. (Am I a bit biased, perhaps)
As it happens, I have a tale for you which you might be interested to hear.
Last night, after we had finished our ride (which was lovely, I must add) and you had gone to begin your vigil by Boromir's side, I began walking back to the palace. I walked slowly, for the stars were quite bright and especially beautiful. The city was quiet, for it was an hour or two past sunset.
Then, out of the silence, I heard someone calling my name. I looked around slowly, wondering who it could possibly be.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught the shimmer of elven clothing and recognized Huinlas almost dancing down the street towards me. He had a smile on his face.
"Silwen, here you are," he said, stopping just in front of me and taking both my hands.
I stared at him in surprise.
He laughed. "I have been looking for you everywhere."
"I have only just left the stables. Arwing and I were riding together," I replied.
At the mention of your name his face became serious. "So late?"
"It wasn't late when we left," I answered, as if I had an excuse.
"Ah. I suppose it is of no consequence," he said, trying to look at ease.
There was an awkward silence.
We stood without moving, my hands still in his, until I became a bit figity and tried to remove my hands. This succeeded in nothing except to revive Huinlas.
"I would like to talk with you, Silwen. May I?"
"Of course," I answered.
He turned and started walking. I had to walk beside him, for he still held my right hand.
"I would like to apologize for leaving you without an answer for so long," he began.
"Without an answer?"
"Yes, I had promised to explain why I wished to take you to Mirkwood, and as of yet I have not fulfilled that promise."
If it has gone this long it is probably of little significance, I thought to myself.
"Pardon?" asked Huinlas.
I eyed him with disbelief and suspicion. "I have said nothing."
Huinlas almost looked embarrassed.
"Boromir has asked me to tell you," he continued warily.
"Boromir?" I said.
"Yes, Boromir. I told him before I left, but I couldn't tell you."
"Why not?" I asked jealously.
"Patience, Silwen. The time was not right. Now I may tell you."
I looked away. "Go on."
"I showed you my ring on the Greenway, did I not?"
"You did," I answered. The mention of it sent a shiver down my back.
Huinlas noticed.
"Your character is not one which is faint of heart, Silwen. Do not become so as I speak to you."
I did not know how answer.
"I went to Mirkwood to discover the answer to a question. A question which has been haunting me since the day I received the ring."
"When was that?" I asked.
He smiled. "Many years ago, by your count."
"Where did you get it from?"
"It was a gift, an heirloom. It was passed from parent to child for many thousands of years."
"So your father gave it to you?"
"No, my mother. She is by lineage of the Noldor, kin of the Lady Galadriel."
"I did not know you had relatives in Lorien!"
"Of old I did. But now the mellyrn trees sway silently in the wind, and the niphredil bloom unheeded. The ring bearers were the last to leave Lothlorien, and now none remain."
"And your mother?"
"She lives in Mirkwood. It was to her I had to go for my answer. She knows the lore of the Two rings, for it closely concerns her."
"Oh, I love tales. Please tell me where the rings are from," I pleaded.
Huinlas smiled. "Long ago the Noldor were a people greatly skilled in the forging of rings and the work of stone and metal. Of them were the Silmarils were made, and the three rings of power for the protection and enrichment of Middle-earth. They also made, in secret, two other rings. For it was foreshadowed there would come a time when even the rule of the Three would come to an end. In preparation for this time they forged the Two rings, the Rings of Seven Stars. They were long kept in secret, and few heard of their existence save only those who were their keepers. Never were they worn, for the power in them was reserved for the two bearers who were yet to come. Do you follow me?" We stopped walking. We had reached the gate for the fifth level. Huinlas looked at me.
"I believe so. But, you wear the ring. You must be the one foretold."
"One of the two."
"Of course," I said.
Huinlas lead the way through the pass door to the fourth level. We continued down the broad, empty street.
"What are the rings for?" I asked.
"For the protection and guidance of Middle-earth and those who in it live. They are akin to the Three rings, save with greater power."
He paused.
"What kind of power?" I asked.
"Power to heal hurts and ward against evil. Power to give wisdom and cause a desire for knowledge."
"Huinlas! Oh, Huinlas!" I shouted. "That means you can heal Boromir! Come we must go, now! Back to Boromir! Come, come! Why do you stop me?"
He held my hand firmly and would not let go. I stood looking wildly at him, not knowing what to think.
"Why do you hold me back? Why do you not follow?" I asked in a quivering voice. "Boromir could be dying, even now."
His face was deeply troubled. "Silwen," he began.
"No!" I shouted. "Don't try to calm me, I will not be calm. I do not see why you halt, why you stall for time that may not wait."
"There are two rings, Silwen. Two. There is significance in this, Silwen."
"I don't see any," I pouted.
"There are two rings; they have power only when united in common purpose."
"Oh," was all I could manage to say. I turned around, crossed my arms and wrapped them around my neck. Hope had been so bright for that one second, and now it was crushed to nothing. Nothing.
I heard Huinlas walking up behind me. His footsteps were soft and slow. He took my hand and turned me around.
I did not look up.
"Where is the other ring?" I asked, looking at his hands. "Who carries it?"
"I do not know."
"How could you not know?" I asked, amazed.
"The second ring was lost."
"Lost? Is this the question that has been troubling you for so long?" "It is," he replied.
"But how will you find it?" I asked.
Huinlas started to chant a poem, softly and rhythmically,
"Seven stars set in a silver sea,
and seven awakening.
Seven stars set in a silver sea,
and seven beckoning.
Seven stars set in a silver sea,
and seven answering."
He ended. I stood still, entranced. A cool breeze rippled through my hair and tossed my skirt.
"I have heard that before." I whispered.
"Have you?" he asked, looking at me intently.
"Yes, or something similar."
His gaze intensified. "Where?" His voice sounded commanding, not like the Huinlas I was accustomed to. It reminded me of the voice in my nightmare.
"I don't know. I don't remember." I stuttered.
"Think!" he told me.
I tried. I thought and thought until I was sure I had become mad.
Then it came to me.
"Arwing. It was in Arwing's poem. The poem she said you sent her. The poem the king took. Yes, it was in that poem."
It felt as if a great weight was lifted from me. I felt as if I had been holding my breath and now I could breathe freely again.
"Arwing sent it to you?" he asked. His voice was deep and strange. I felt as if I was facing an enemy.
"Huinlas, you frighten me!" I said, stepping away from him and taking my hand.
He put his hand on his forehead. His brow became furrowed, and the horrible questioning look returned to his eyes.
"Arwing," I heard him whisper.
"Huinlas, what is all this about? How is Arwing concerned with this?"
He seemed to forcefully push away the expression, and his eyes melted back to their deep blue.
"If only I knew," he answered.
And that, my friend, was the end of the conversation. I wish I had more to tell, but I have told all I know. It is so strange.
Mellonlín,
a very confused and tired Silwen