Chapter 2: Findings

same as last chapter, I don't own LotR... this time you might recognize it, though

Melui linna i gwaew
Am îr uîdh aearon
Talt erin falas

Melui linna i gwaew
Am i alfirin talf nán
I calen thar rïnc

Melui linna i gwaew
Am i orodrim din
Glamour loda dad

Melui linna i gwaew
Taur mi i menel öh beleg
Ennor lend glîr

Loviisa smiled as she read the beautiful, ancient haltijan words on the bleached, stiff pages. Slowly, digging back into the dusty pages of her memory to her grandmother's lessons in the haltijan tongue, Loviisa translated the poem.

Sweetly sings the wind... over the resting, no, restless ocean... crash, crashing on the shore. Sweetly sings the wind, over the bound... the boundless grassland, oh! the boundless prairie... the green grass moves...sways. Sweetly sings the wind, over the mountainous-tops? Over the mountain passes, echoes drifting down. Sweetly sings the wind, high in the skies so mighty, middle-earth's ...no, nature's harmony.

Oh, she thought, that's a beautiful old song...

Sweetly sings the wind
over the restless ocean
crashing on the shore

Sweetly sings the wind
over the boundless prairie
the green grass sways

Sweetly sings the wind
over the mountain passes
echoes drifting down

Sweetly sings the wind
high in the skies so mighty
nature's harmony

Loviisa didn't even notice herself singing the song until Rempel, busy scrounging through books o see where he knew the library room from, shouted at her to quit singing.

"I swear, you're more annoying than a Hedwig! You're eating out my brains with that ghastly, haunting song," the frustrated professor cried.

Hal, who was sitting next to her, grinned and comforted his fellow archaeologist with the words, "don't worry, I still think you could win Valkolinnake Idol. Lathron(!) wouldn't ever fault your singing."

Both laughed and bent again over the manuscripts they were painstakingly translating, trying to find clues as to what this place was, who lived here, where they went, and what they really were. Rempel was so sure that this place was made by the haltija that all he searched the books for were spells and potions.

Loviisa had, in her section of the expansive library, found only books and scrolls containing old songs, poems, and ballads about long forgotten heroes and kingdoms.

It was interesting, but there were no facts or clues that they could really use as proof of the haltija's existence.

Hal was having a little better luck, he had come across books filled with geography, maps and drawings of cities, palaces, with little write ups of politics in these places, their rulers' names and royal lines. Nearly every page he turned had something that made him 'ooh' with excitement and take several pictures of the pages.

After several days of searching, finally Loviisa hit pay dirt –again.

The large book with golden embossing on the leather cover had drawn her hand to it and she felt compelled to pull it off the shelf, with some difficulty as it was quite heavy, and crack the cover open.

On the first page was a still brightly coloured drawing of two splendid trees, a sky full of silver stars, and three bright gems. This was an image often depicted in ancient haltijan works, so the image itself had no importance to her, but the fact that the pages looked as though they had been printed just the day before made Loviisa's adrenaline run.

Turning the pages, she came across a dialect of haltijan that she had never seen before.

It went on for most of the book, until near to the end where it slowly switched from this dialect into common haltjan.

From the pages at the end and the form of the front pages, she deemed that this was a huge book filled with family trees and the histories of persons in these families.

One such page caught her eye and made her shout in exhilaration.

"I found it! I found Ælfroond!"

Everyone in the make-shift camp ran quickly to her side as she pointed out the names on the pages.

"Look here, see – Eärendil, son of Tuor and Idril, married Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of Beren and Luthien, and Nimloth. Together they bore two sons, Elros and Elrond Perhedil. Elwing bore the Silmaril. Eärendil built a ship and sailed to... Valinor? He sailed there to deliver the message of the elves – the Haltija! – to the Valar. Elwing flew to him when the sons of Fëanor attacked; Elros and Elrond were taken captive, but were later released by Maglor. They were given the same choice as their parents – to choose a life of immortality or that of men. Elros chose to be among the mortals and was given a kingdom, Numenor, to rule over. Elrond chose to be among the elves, and went to Lindon to live with the high King Gil-Galad. When Eriador was attacked, Gil-Galad sent him to Eregion to help. When that land was defeated, Elrond retreated into a deep valley and founded Rivendell. Rivendell, also named Imladris and Karnigul – hah! This is it, we're in Karnigul! – was mainly populated by the Norldor, though many Silvan elves also dwelt there, too."

Loviisa paused for a breath, "and in a different hand – a new writer I assume – it says that Elrond bore 'Vilya', the ring of air, after the death of Gil-Galad in a battle called 'the Last Alliance of Middle Earth.' It also says that he bore this ring up to and after the final War of the Ring and in the fourth age he sailed to Valinor with the other ring-bearers.

"But I cannot find anything here about what the War of the Ring was, or where Valinor is. There are more notes here, but they are in another language that I don't understand."

Loviisa ruffled through the pages, trying to find more common haltijan, but was unable to find more.

Everyone in the room, despite their excitement and desire to bring out the champagne, held their breath and remained stalk still as Rempel took the book out of Loviisa's hands and examined the strange dialect.

"It is very strange, yet it is familiar to me... I can just barely make out some of the words. This book is mainly written in an old form of haltijan, called the high tongue, or Quenya. It is the language of the Noldor – the high elves – but was banned for some reason by an ancient king of the grey elves."

With a smile, Rempel closed the book with a thud and set it carefully down on the table. Collecting himself, he looked around the crowded tent and addressed the mass of students around him.

"It's party time!"

(!) - Lathron is the Sindarin equivalent of Simon...as in Simon Howel.
(Laughes kind patheticly and cornily slaps knee) ah yes, ha ha, Minas Tirith Idol... tee hee.... oh, didn't you figgure that one out yet? Yep, Valkolinnake is Minas Tirith and Vanhamaa is Gondor. :) yay! You gotta love Finnish.