The Other Child: Child of Mirkwood
Rebecca ran through the halls of the Elven King of Northern Mirkwood. Her light slippers pattered upon the flagstones as she approached the main gate.
"Good morning, Tessel!"
The tall guard grinned and pulled open the huge oaken doors. "Mind you be back by nightfall, young lady. I don't wish to miss any of the feasting tonight!"
Rebecca laughed and skipped across the wooden bridge, turning and waving at the guard. She followed a path leading up the slope, above the caverns of Thranduil's palace. She climbed to its top and threw back her head, breathing deeply of the wind that ruffled the boughs of the beech trees below. Black emperor butterflies danced on the breeze. The sunny day was to her liking.
She lay back on the grassy knoll and watched gauzy clouds drift across the blue sky. She had come to this hilltop every morning for many months, ever since Galion, the king's butler, had taken her for a tour of the kingdom. This was her favorite spot; from here she could see the top of the forest, the clouds, the sky, the butterflies. She felt the pulse of life beyond the kingdom of trees and caverns; it gladdened her heart.
She had naught to complain of since taking up with Radagast the Brown and traveling from the House under the Hill. He had taught her so much; under his tutelage she learned to speak to the birds. There was not a feathery creature in Mirkwood with whom she could not converse. He taught her the ways of the little black squirrels whose antics amused her to no end, and to speak softly to the stag, doe and fawn. She learned to read the seasons and the signs of the woods, the wind, the rivers. And there was still so much to know…
He also told her, albeit reluctantly, of the fell things in the woods - giant spiders, wolves, orcs. At last she knew the name of the Enemy and his desire to subjugate the peoples of Middle Earth. She learned of a great quest on which Prince Legolas tarried. She knew by the King's grave countenance that his concern for his kingdom was second only to his fears for his son. There was some merriment and singing in the halls of Thranduil, yet there was hushed talk now of war under the eaves. His soldiers were preparing for a great battle, and there were many messengers sent between the men of Dale, the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, the stalwart Beornings and wizened Woodmen. The King was often in his council of war.
Radagast, too, aided the King. The birds brought messages of terrible struggles in the wider world. Rebecca listened to these goings on feeling very little and useless. At such times Radagast would hug her and assure her that her time would come, then begin another lesson in the lore of Middle Earth. He never neglected her studies, treating them with the same gravity as the councils of war.
She was so lost in thought that she did not realize Galion had joined her until she felt his long shadow fall across her upturned face. "Oh! Hello, Galion!"
The tall elf sat down beside her. "Good morning, little one. What engrosses you so much on such a sunny day?"
She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. "I was wondering about the Queen. Why is she not at King Thranduil's court?"
"Well, she is with her kinsfolk in Caras Galadon."
"What is Caras Gal…?"
Galion smiled and ruffled her hair. "Galadon. You should spend more time studying maps, little one! It is the chief city of Lorien, the great woodland kingdom just west of the Anduin River. The Galadrim are our brethren and make their homes in mellryn."
"Mell…?"
Galion laughed. "Mellryn are the golden trees of Lorien. You should see them, little one. They are silver of bark with golden leaves. The city of Caras Galadon is built on telain throughout the branches."
"Telain?"
"Great flets - platforms for dwelling. Oh, you must see Lorien someday! Besides Rivendell, it is the grandest realm of our kindred in Middle Earth. But I fear it is perilous to visit it now."
"Why is it so?"
Galion reclined on his elbows. "The times are dark, little one. In the southernmost part of our wood lies the evil Dol Goldur, of which you have heard."
Rebecca nodded. "Radagast says it is a place of great terror."
"Indeed," he said grimly. "Lorien lies directly west of this place, across the Anduin. Our lord Elrond's wife was set upon by Orcs when she departed Lorien. It has frightened our King and he has forbidden his Queen to return - the trip is far too dangerous. War gathers, even now."
Rebecca looked up at the clouds, finding the subject of war uncanny on such a gorgeous day. "The King's son is part of the war, isn't he?"
"Yes, Prince Legolas marches in the company of the Nine Walkers, sent out to destroy the bane of Isildur."
"That's a funny name for a ring, isn't it?"
Galion chided her. "There is nothing funny about the matter, little one. The fate of Middle Earth depends upon the success of their quest. For our part, we gird ourselves for war. The King is meeting with emissaries from the kingdom of Dale and of Erebor. As we speak, representatives from the Beornings and the Woodmen are arriving. We shall be embroiled in the Battle under the Trees before long."
Rebecca studied her shoes. "I am frightened of such talk, Galion."
He patted her shoulder consolingly. "Then come, let us speak of other things. Have you no questions for me today? You usually do…"
She thought for a moment then nodded seriously. "Yes. Why does the Queen wish to live apart from the King?"
Galion looked at her in wonder. "This is a new branch of thought, little one! I am accustomed to discussing the butterflies!"
Rebecca blushed. "Is it an improper question, then?"
"No, not at all. I will answer it for you, but it will take time. The ways of the Eldar are not the ways of Man, you see. To marry and share life with a beloved is customary, but the nature of this union varies as our needs and spirits grow. For the most part we become what we are to be in our fiftieth year; until then, we are as children, albeit learned ones - our memories stir at an early age. After our fiftieth year we may, if we so choose, become betrothed and exchange silver rings with our beloved. This betrothal stands for one year at the least, and often for longer periods of time."
"Why must you wait that long, if marriage is what you seek?"
Galion smiled gently and patted her cheek. "You are young, my friend, and know not the wider world. Mistakes are often made since the marring of Arda, and the laws of my people take this into account. In such cases the Right of Revoking is made with a public return of the rings; this law enables each party to choose wisely, for our marriages are not soluble."
Rebecca nodded, taking in his words with great consideration. "But you have not answered my question. Why would a husband and a wife choose to live separately? The Queen left these caverns before the evil came to Dol Goldur, so I am told. The war may prevent her from returning, but why would she have gone in the first place?"
"You must be patient, little one, for there is more to know. It is customary for our folk to beget and bear their children in the earliest years of marriage. Great joy attends this time and the family is inseparable. After a time, however, the mind turns to other things. The union of love is indeed a great delight and the "days of children", as we call them, remain in our memory as the merriest in life. Nevertheless we have many other powers of body and mind which our natures urge us to fulfill."
"Thus, although we remain wedded forever we do not necessarily dwell together at all times. Our fëar, our souls, if you will, have many paths on which to tread, yet our unions remain intact and cannot be sundered. Such is the way of Elven marriage."
Rebecca listened, her chin on her knees and her eyes open wide. She nodded in understanding and then blurted, "Is the Prince betrothed to the lady Dolressa?"
Galion laughed. "You hop from subject to subject as a sparrow flits about the twigs of a tree, little one! Yes, they have exchanged their silver rings, in Imladris before he set out on his quest."
She frowned. "It must be terrible for her to know he walks into danger."
"Yes, that it is. But she hopes, as we all do, Rebecca."
Rebecca nodded solemnly, then smiled as she saw her mentor climbing the hill toward them. He moved with lumbering steps, worse than usual, Rebecca thought as he leaned heavily upon his oaken staff. Presently he joined them. He looked weary beyond his years and those were many.
"Are they getting anywhere in that council, Aiwendil?" asked Galion hopefully.
"We're not getting nowhere, if you take my meaning," Radagast said with a small smile.
Galion sighed. "It is always thus in our dealings with the other races. The dwarves of Erebor are especially stiff-necked."
"No more so than your own king, my friend. But come, I have journeyed to this hilltop for fresh air. What have the birds to say today?" he asked, turning to his young ward.
"The birds seem unhappy today, Uncle, but I cannot guess why. Galion and I have been speaking of elves and their families."
Radagast smiled and, with a groan and creaking of his knees, sat beside them on the green lawn. "Goodness, that could be a lengthy discussion!"
Galion returned his smile. "We were coming to the ways of wizards, Aiwendil."
Radagast shook his head. "That's a topic hardly worth broaching."
"Nor are the traditions of badgers or butterflies, but Rebecca must discuss them all!"
Radagast laughed. "Indeed she must, and she shall! We should all be prepared to tell her everything about anything."
Galion grinned and rose, stretching his long legs with a sigh. "And I must be prepared for this evening's feast, my friends. It needs to be magnificent, to make up for our King's labors in council today."
"Aye, be sure to have the Dorwinion wine at hand, sir."
With a wave of his hand, Galion disappeared lightly down the same hill that Radagast had just ascended with such labor.
Rebecca leaned against him. She took great comfort in the scent of him, of lingering and smoky Old Toby. He produced and lit his pipe as they sat together. Rebecca cheered as he blew great rings of smoke that coasted serenely upon the open air.
"And why such an interest in the domestic relations of our starry eyed kindred, little one?"
"Oh, no reason, really," she replied, poking her index finger through the center of a smoke ring. "I just wondered about the Queen and the Prince. Doesn't Thranduil get lonely?"
"Well, I suppose he does at that. But you must remember, Rebecca, the elves have a way of treasuring their memories so that each time they recall one it is as fresh to them as if they were first experiencing it."
Rebecca thought of this. "Then why does the lady Dolressa seem so sour, if she can just close her eyes and be near the Prince?"
Radagast looked at her with surprise. "Has Galion spoken of this with you?"
"No. I just noticed at the feasts and when I see her in the halls. Perhaps she does not like me; I thought so when we met her in the forest, with the Prince. She does not smile much, Uncle."
Radagast sighed and patted her curly head. "Not all beings are cut from the same cloth, even if they are of the same race. There are elves of mirthful disposition and there are those that are … not."
Rebecca thought about this. "Do I smile enough, Uncle?"
He laughed. "I should say so, little one! You may smile as often as you like!"
He paused and sniffed the air, turning this way and that. Then he pointed to the southwest. "But look you, to the horizon - what flies towards us with great speed?" He stood again, with difficulty. "Ah, it is the great Windlord, Gwaihir!"
In moments the giant bird descended in wide, spiraling loops until he came to rest on the hilltop beside them. "Aiwendil, hail!"
"Well met, my friend. What news do you bring from the world?"
The eagle hung his proud head. There was sadness in his eyes and in his voice. "I have terrible tidings, Radagast the Brown, terrible tidings. Your comrade, Gandalf the Grey, has fallen in battle, to the balrog of Moria."
Radagast looked stunned, then ashen. "No," he whispered. "No, this cannot be!"
The eagle nodded solemnly. "Aye, it is so. We sorrow for his loss, and for all of Middle Earth."
Radagast shook his head. "We must send word to Isengard. Surely Saruman…"
The eagle grumbled low in his throat. "Nay, we may not look to Saruman for counsel any longer, Radagast. He has turned in his allegiance and now aspires to the crown of Barad-dûr. He has betrayed us all."
Radagast reeled from twice terrible news. His hands shook as he clenched his staff, and he hung his head in grief. "Ai, ai, all is now lost!"
Rebecca placed her small hands over his and looked up at him with concern.
He patted her head gently and sighed. "No, perhaps all is not lost, so long as we have you, little one." He turned to Gwaihir. "You have brought grievous tidings indeed, Windlord, yet I will know the tale in full. Please, tell us your news and do not spare my feelings."
They sat in discussion with the eagle for an hour. He told them of the company's arrival in Lothlorien, and of war in Gondor. At last it was decided that Radagast return to Thranduil's council of war to bear the terrible tale. Gwaihir agreed to patrol ever more vigilantly and to bring news, be it fair or foul, to Radagast immediately.
Rebecca helped Radagast down the hill; he leaned heavily on her although he favored his staff. She had never known him to be so burdened, so ancient. He bade her farewell at the entrance to the great hall wherein the council met. As she wandered back along the passageway she reflected on how very little she actually knew about Radagast specifically and about the wider world in general.
Next: The Battle Under the Trees