Farflung: Somewhere on one of the extended DVDs Orlando Bloom comments that Ian McKellen really isn't a morning person, so Gandalf's grumpiness is a case of Art imitating Life. Personally, I hate mushroom soup, but given Aragorn's unfortunate experience with the fungus, there was no way I wasn't going to use a mushroom as the cure for Legolas' illness. Oh, I'm glad you don't think Caranlass is a Mary Sue. To me she is an amazing Elf—like Legolas and Elrond and Glorfindel and Elrohir and Elladan and etcetera—who happens to be female. That's an interesting idea of twins being used to illustrate the nature of choice. I wonder whether Elrohir and Elladan would ever go down diverging paths. Interesting story idea, that. No, of course 'grandnana' Edwen Nana will still look out for Legolas. She has a heart like a cornucopia: she could keep adding on to the list of people she loves without ever diminishing the amount of love she lavishes on any one person.
Grumpy: As I said above to Farflung, I simply couldn't resist making the cure mushrooms!
MusicalCharlatan: The brigands never get a break, do they—at least not the sort of break they would like! I had fun imagining an incredibly anxious Elrond hovering over Anomen only to be told that the problem was that the young Elf's nose itched!
Inuyashaloverfan: O.K., another chapter, as requested.
Dragonfly: Of course I'm not done with Glorfindel yet! He's an immortal, so there are an infinite number of story possibilities. Elrond is one of the few individuals alive who have ever put something over Edwen Nana.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly
Chapter 75: Fruition
As Legolas began to recover his health, in Elrond's household the daily routine reasserted itself. Amongst the matters that had been neglected during the crisis was the education of Marta, the refugee from Dunland who had stayed on after her brother Hyge and her foster-sister Malinka had returned to their cottage. She had continued each morning learning cooking, sewing, and other domestic crafts, but her afternoon lessons in the library with Erestor had been in abeyance. One day after lunch, however, Erestor cheerfully left Elrond's table and hastened to the library, thinking that he would find Marta in her accustomed place. But when he entered the library, he found only Thoron.
"Thoron, what are you doing here?" asked Erestor in surprise, for the young Elf had been a notoriously reluctant pupil, exceeded only by Elrohir in that respect.
"Speak softly," Thoron urged the tutor. "I am trying to keep out of the clutches of Elladan and Elrohir."
"What have you done?" Erestor demanded.
"I, well, I adorned their horses."
"Adorned their horses? Whatever do you mean?"
"I braided flowers into their manes and tales."
"Silly of you, but that doesn't sound particularly dreadful, especially considering the other mischief you have gotten yourself into."
"Yes, that is what I thought, but I did not know that Elladan and Elrohir were planning to ride out with some Rangers this morning—amongst them that exceptionally dour one, Halbarad. When the ostlers led Elladan and Elrohir's mounts into the stable yard, Halbarad—Halbarad, mind you!—actually laughed out loud. Now Elladan and Elrohir say that I have humiliated them before the Dúnedain and have sworn to pay me back."
"It will serve you right if they do," said Erestor, who was famously unsympathetic toward young Elves who got themselves into such predicaments.
"Please, Erestor," Thoron pleaded, "let me hide here until Elrond has had an opportunity to calm the twins."
"If I do, you shall have to busy yourself copying manuscripts. I shall not permit you to lollygag about!"
"Gladly," Thoron said eagerly.
Erestor selected the longest and dullest of the tomes that needed copying and set Thoron up at a table with all that was needful: ink bottle, several quills, sand for blotting, and ruler for measuring and pins for pricking the lines. He set up a manuscript for himself at another table, and for awhile the two silently worked upon the tasks before them. After a time, and with seeming casualness, Erestor addressed the younger Elf.
"By the by, Thoron, did anyone else happen by the library whilst you were skulking about?"
"Yes," replied Thoron, "Marta, the Dunlending maiden, came into the chamber. She seemed to be in low spirits, for her face was pensive and she sighed as she gazed out the window."
'Low spirits', thought Erestor, intrigued. 'Could it be that the lass was sorry to find that I was not present?'
Thoron, however, was not done with his tale.
"But after a little while she must have spied something from the window that raised her spirits, for she gave an excited cry and hastened from the room."
Erestor laid down his pen and walked to the window. 'What could she have seen?' he wondered. The usual vista was visible through the casement, albeit with one exception. A wagon stood by one of the outbuildings used to store foodstuffs. It was a conveyance like to those driven by Dunlending teamsters. Nearby grazed two horses, neither of them elven.
"Thoron," Erestor said, "I need to take stock of the provisions that are being laid in for the feast in celebration of Legolas' recovery. Mind you don't blot any of those pages in my absence."
"I am not an elfling," protested Thoron.
"No," retorted Erestor, "you only behave like one!"
With that the tutor hurried from the Hall and made for the wagon. Nothing rested in its bed save a few empty sacks. Cautiously, Erestor crept up to the outbuilding and pushed open the door. No one was about, but the building, which had been empty that morning, was filled with baskets of apples, bushel after bushel. The air was sweet with them. Erestor picked one up and gazed at it thoughtfully. Then, still holding the apple, he went in search of Elrond. He found the elf-lord closeted with Gandalf, with whom he was poring over a map.
"Ah," said Elrond when Erestor appeared in the door. "Here is someone who knows this map better than I, for he it was that drew it up. Erestor, come and advise us about this pass."
Erestor tried to oblige, but his answers were not very sensible.
"Erestor," Elrond said at last, "you seem rather distracted. Is anything the matter?"
Erestor studied the apple that he still clutched in his hand.
"Elrond, the fruit of Dunland is very sweet."
"Some of it is," agreed Elrond. "Certainly the fruit from the orchards of Hyge Farmer rivals fruit grown by our very own kinfolk."
"Yes, of course. Hyge Farmer. Elrond, I noticed a Dunland wagon by one of the outbuildings. Is Master Farmer about?"
"No. But he has sent a servant who has delivered a goodly number of apples."
"A servant?"
"Hyge has but lately extended his holdings through the purchase of much fertile land. He has therefore taken on several laborers to assist him in his endeavors. One of them, Godwin, he deputized to deliver the apples. A goodly, clever lad he seems to be."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. About Marta's age, I believe. I do not think Godwin will be a servant long."
"Why ever not?"
"He is thoughtful and asks questions that show him to be a likely lad. Amongst his other questions, he has inquired after conditions to the north. It seems he has heard tell of the Dunlending family that is homesteading in the Northern Waste. I suspect that he has hopes of following in their footsteps. It would be a sensible path for Godwin to choose. He is an orphan, and it would be very difficult for him to acquire land on his own in Dunland. To the north, however, there is land for the taking for the sturdy and stout of heart."
"It would be hard for a person to establish a homestead in that place without assistance."
"True," said Elrond, smiling a little, "but I doubt he will settle on his own."
"Is that so?" replied Erestor, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Who would venture forth to aid him? Surely he cannot afford to hire a servant himself."
"No, but he has hopes of a helpmate nonetheless."
"A helpmate. As in a wife?"
"Yes, as in a wife. Erestor, may I ask as to why you are suddenly so curious about the doings of Hyge and his household?"
"No particular reason," replied Erestor, who was now exceedingly uncomfortable. "Excuse me, Elrond. I must return to the library. I have something needs doing."
Erestor hastened back to that chamber and ordered Thoron to put aside the book he had been copying.
"I have another volume you had better work on instead," said the tutor, rummaging about the shelves. "Ah, here it is!"
He laid the book before Thoron, who looked at it quizzically.
"A book about the growing of fruit trees?"
"I am glad to know that you can read," said Erestor sarcastically. "Now commence copying!"
Erestor himself began to furiously copy a second book, one about animal husbandry. And when he was done with that one, he began work on a third, a collection of recipes for simples suitable for the dosing of infants and children. Day after day he labored, continuing to frantically copy volumes long after Thoron had made things up with Elladan and Elrohir and abandoned the library for the archery field.
After spending several days visiting with Elrond's Head Gardener, Godwin had set out for home. Marta, who had haunted the garden during this time, began to come again to the library for her lessons.
"Master Erestor, I am sorry that I have not been dutiful these past several days," she said hesitantly when she reappeared for her lessons.
"You needn't apologize, Marta," Erestor replied kindly. "You cannot always be in the library. Indeed, you should not always be in the library! I remember when you first came to this place. You told your brother that you wished to remain because, should you learn to read and write, you would be able to teach your folk, and thus protect them from being cheated, as is so often the fate of the untutored. Marta, I do believe that you have advanced so far that you could now accomplish your desire."
A joyous smile o'erspread Marta's face. With some sadness, Erestor thought she had never been more beautiful.
"Perhaps," Erestor suggested, "you should now take your final steps toward that goal. When I was young and knew for a certainty that I wanted to teach others, my Master set me to assembling a manuscript wherein I gathered together stories that I thought would be most useful and delightful for a beginning learner." He picked up a book from his desk. "Do you remember this?"
"Yes, it is the book from which I first learned my letters."
"Aye, and from it Elrohir and Elladan and Arwen learned their letters as well. This is the book that I devised whilst still under the tutelage of my Master. You shall now create such a book for yourself. Look about you, Marta. Look at all the books you have read. Choose from amongst them the tales and stories that most delighted you, that most fascinated you."
Marta gazed about the library.
"There are so many," she said. Now it was her turn to look sad. "I must make a choice," she murmured.
"Yes," agreed Erestor. "You must make a choice."
Marta devoted the next several weeks to copying her favorite tales at one table while Erestor diligently worked from his own copy texts at another. At length Marta told him that she was very nearly finished, and Erestor came to o'erlook her manuscript.
"You have chosen well," he said as he turned the pages of the book. "There is quite a variety amongst these tales, and they are all of them of the finest quality, each narrative exciting and yet meaningful. I see, though, that at the end you still have several blank pages. Is there no other tale that you would wish to copy?"
"Yes, there is one other. I saved it for the last because it moves me so. It is the account of how the Lords Elrond and Elros were forced to choose between two fates. They each chose differently and so were sundered one from the other."
"That is a powerful tale," Erestor acknowledged. "Would that no one else had to make such a choice."
"I think that many are so constrained."
"You have grown wise, Marta."
Erestor returned to his table and bent over his task while Marta returned to hers.
A few days later two wagons arrived from Dunland. One bore Hyge and his family. The other was driven by Godwin, and the wagon bed was loaded with tools and household goods such as would be needful for a homestead.
Laughing and singing, Elves escorted the guests into the Hall of Fire, which, under the direction of Edwen Nana, was decorated in a more than usually festive manner. There Marta and Godwin plighted troth, and dancing and feasting followed.
The next morning Hyge and his family departed for home, for they could not long leave their farm untended. Godwin, however, spent that day with the Head Gardener, for seedling fruit trees were Elrond's gift to the new couple, and they had to be dug up and the root balls wrapped.
That evening, Erestor bolted down his food in a most unelvenly fashion. "I have something in the library I must finish," Erestor said, excusing himself after he had washed down his food with several hasty gulps of wine. "Pardon me."
The tutor all but ran from the room, his unusual behavior raising more eyebrows than Elrond's.
Later that night, as Elrond was retiring to his room, he passed by the library and noticed that light still came from that chamber. He peeked his head in at the door. Erestor sat asleep in his chair in the library, his head upon a book, the candle guttering in its socket. Elrond carefully eased the manuscript out from under Erestor's head and looked down upon it.
"This lacks but a few lines," he murmured. "I shall finish it for him."
He mended the candle and carefully copied out the last few lines, then sprinkled sand upon the page to blot the ink. When it was dry, he capped the ink bottle, closed the book, and gently draped his own cloak over Erestor's shoulders.
The next morning Elrond's household assembled before the Hall to bid farewell to Marta and Godwin. Erestor was the last to arrive. He was followed by two Elves who between them carried a large chest, apparently quite a heavy one. At Erestor's signal, they stepped forth and laid it upon the ground, and Erestor opened it. Marta gasped and knelt beside the chest, gazing rapturously upon the treasure within. The chest was filled with books.
Erestor spoke gruffly.
"Should you have questions in your new life, you will be miles away from anyone from whom you could seek answers. But these books, they will be your advisors."
Marta's eyes filled with tears.
"Now, now," said Erestor, his voice even gruffer than before. "I am merely trying to be practical. Besides, I like my students to do well in the world—reflects credit upon me, don't you know."
Erestor's Elves helped Godwin shift the goods about the wagon so that there was room for the chest. Afterward, Godwin bowed and Marta curtseyed to the assembled company. The new husband offered his hand to Marta to help her onto the wagon. Suddenly, however, she turned and ran to Erestor.
I have something to say to you," she whispered. The Elf lowered his head that he might hear her the better, and quickly she kissed him on the cheek. "Stay well," she cried aloud as she ran back to Godwin.
"Go well," Erestor called after her. Godwin handed her into the buckboard and then climbed up himself. Flicking the reins, he set the horses in motion, and the new family drove toward the north.
"Impulsive creatures, those humans," grumbled Erestor as the wagon disappeared into the distance. "Too flighty for the likes of me." Elrond laid his hand upon his shoulder but said nothing. Erestor shot him a grateful look.
The first several days in the Northern Waste, Godwin and Marta slept under the wagon while they labored to raise a small cottage. As soon as it was roofed, Marta asked Godwin if he couldn't erect some shelves.
"I know there may be other things that seem more important," she said apologetically, "but to me shelves are needful." Godwin obliged, and soon one wall of the cottage was covered with shelving that, while rough, was serviceable. At once Marta set herself to unpacking the books and arranging them upon the shelves. All save a volume on the growing of fruit trees were written in Erestor's familiar script.
When Marta reached the very bottom of the chest, she found one last slender volume, carefully wrapped within a soft, clean cloth. She opened it and turned the pages one by one. Oddly, the very last lines were written in a handwriting other than Erestor's, but Marta did not notice, for tears blurred her vision by the time she reached that page.
"I will never forget you," she murmured, hugging within her arms that most precious of tales, that of the love between Beren and Lúthien.
Miles away, Erestor sat in his accustomed chair, his hand upon a book. Gently he rubbed its leather surface, worn smooth by years of affectionate use.
"I will never forget you," he murmured. "Never."
And above both cottage and Hall the star of Eärendil shone brightly, its light a beacon for all folk who dare to love—even when their love must remain forever beyond their grasp. Indeed, especially when their love must remain forever beyond their grasp. And perhaps such a love, a hopeless love, is the purest love of all.