The Other Child: The Journey South
The sun was setting behind her as Rebecca reached the ford of Rivendell. She crossed the river Bruinen and climbed the stony path up the steep riverbank. Ahead of her the Misty Mountains raised their peaks to the twilit sky. She followed the winding path until it suddenly crested and revealed a lush valley below. Nestled therein was the great house of Imladris. She could hear the sound of water rushing over rocks. The air was fragrant with pine. She began her descent as the path zigged and zagged through the pines, which soon became a forest of beech and oak.
She dismounted to lead Alfirin across a narrow bridge of stone, old as the hills themselves, which spanned a strong current of tumbling waters from the mountain. Before her stood the Last Homely House of Rivendell. And a tall Elf, who rode towards her on an enormous black stallion. "Hello there!" he called to her. He seemed to be one with the horse; she couldn't make out the features of his face till she was directly in front of him. He was extremely handsome, with long dark hair and silvery grey eyes set in a well-chiseled face. "You must be Radagast's ward. He told us of your coming!"
"Yes, I have come from the House under the Hill," she replied, stretching her legs from long hours of riding.
"And now you are come to the Last Homely House!" he said, dismounting and leading his horse around the side of the house to a large stable. He glanced at her horse appreciatively. "What a lovely creature!" he exclaimed softly as he settled his horse into its stall.
"Her name is Alfirin - it means Evermind in Sindarin," she blushed. "Of course you already knew that,"
Elrohir laughed. "Yes, I am familiar with that tongue." He stood back, examining the horse, and whistled his approval. "I have seen many a steed in my day - men call me a master of horses - yet I have seldom seen her like!"
Rebecca nodded proudly. "She is a gift to me from Tom Bombadil."
"Is she now? Well, Tom Bombadil is a generous giver of gifts!" Elrohir made her horse comfortable in a stall and led Rebecca from the stables. "You must be tired and hungry after such a journey. Let me welcome you to Rivendell!"
Rebecca looked in wonder at the great house. She had heard of it in many tales, yet nothing prepared her for the reality. Many terraced gardens, now quiet under the new-fallen snow, surrounded the house and its porches. Its huge oaken doors were opened by a lovely Elf maiden, who smiled and welcomed them. "Imladria, this is Rebecca, ward of Aiwendil. Please show her to the room that has been prepared for her."
The Elf curtseyed and Rebecca followed. "Here it is that my mother and father lived," she thought as she passed through several halls. At last she crossed the threshold of a lovely room. A cheery fire crackled on the hearth and the low ceiling was crossed by carved beams of oak. As soon as she was alone she went to the window. A full moon made the snow glisten on the boughs of the pine and oak trees. She could still hear the rush and fall of the river. She removed her travel-stained clothes and sunk for a moment into the deep featherbed. Then she reluctantly rose and donned fresh garments - a long tunic and breeches. What would Elrond think of that? she wondered defiantly. She had no time to dwell upon this as the ringing of many bells summoned her to dinner.
Meanwhile, Elrohir found Elladan in the dining hall, entertaining a few of the Elven maidens who were in residence. They were gathered around him, giggling appreciatively to the story he was telling.
"Elladan, if I may have a word?"
The Elves left, laughing as they went. Elrohir shook his head. "Always impressing the ladies, eh?
Elladan smiled. "You can't be as prudish as you seem, brother. Maybe you're better off with your horses!"
"At least horses don't giggle incessantly," remarked Elrohir. "Radagast's ward has arrived."
"Has she indeed?"
"Yes. You would like her - she is exceedingly beautiful."
"Then I must meet her! Where have you hidden her?"
"I've sent her with Imladria; she was weary after her long journey and in need of a respite before dinner."
"Well, no matter. I shall meet her presently."
"Elladan," Elrohir paused. "There is something about her, something familiar. Disturbingly so."
"Disturbing? But you said she was lovely."
"She is indeed. But there is something… I can't put my finger on it."
"You're a far better judge of horses, brother! Don't worry - if there is something to know I shall discern it."
The dining hall of Elrond's house was yet hospitable and filled with many fair folk, Elves that continued to linger in the early days of the Fourth Age. At the head of the table sat Elladan. Before him was spread a magnificent feast; there were tall goblets filled with Dorwinion wine and a large roast in front of him. He was carving slices from it and passing them along to his guests. He looked up as Rebecca entered. "Well, this must be the ward!" he exclaimed in greeting.
"Indeed. Rebecca, this is Elladan, master of Rivendell," said Radagast.
Rebecca curtseyed and took her seat beside Radagast. She looked shyly at her host and was surprised to find that he was an identical twin to Elrohir, yet his manner was more robust. She also sensed a challenge unspoken in his clear silver eyes.
When the meal was over Elves came and cleared the table, while the rest of the guests adjourned to the Hall of Fire. A bright fire was blazing in a great hearth, while tall Elves played upon harps and lutes, their music soft and soothing. Elladan took a seat and gestured for Radagast and Rebecca to do the same. Rebecca did so, feeling uneasy in the company of this son of Elrond. Elladan was not so gentle as Elrohir; there was something keen in his manner, as if he was trying to pierce her very thoughts. Golden firelight played upon his dark hair and he smiled at her. "You are welcome here; whether you require rest or food or singing and story-telling, you will find it in Rivendell."
"So I have heard in many stories," she replied.
"Ah, yes, Tom Bombadil is a great teller of tales," he agreed. "Yet he does not often leave his own doorstep, save to go abroad for water lilies, or so 'tis said of old."
"Tom does prefer his own corner of the world, yet he is well-versed in the lore of many places," she said, feeling oddly defensive.
"Indeed? And you, have you kept to his corner of the world as well or have you been much abroad?"
Radagast spoke for her. "Many years ago we spent time in the halls of King Thranduil, in the last days of the War."
"We've also been to Isengard, Uncle," she added. "But you are right, master, that I have spent most of my days with Tom Bombadil."
"Then you must have had an interesting time of it!" he laughed. "'Tis a shame you've been a near neighbor and never visited us before. You have missed the finest days, I fear, for Elrond is now departed and with him the magic of Vilya."
His words struck near the mark, for Rebecca would have loved to see Rivendell in its glory, even more so with her father in residence. "There is magic here yet," she said, for lack of something better.
Elrohir joined them presently. A huge dog, shaggy and iron-grey, followed him and promptly lay at his feet. Rebecca cried out in delight and knelt down beside the animal. "What is his name, sir?"
"This is Aeglos. It means Snowthorn in Sindarin. But of course you already knew that," he added with a wink.
She giggled as the dog licked her face. "It was also the name of Gil-galad's spear," she noted.
Elladan raised his eyebrows. "Ah, you are a mistress of Elf-lore, are you?"
Radagast laughed. "It's Tom Bombadil to blame for that. Rebecca has toiled long in mastering the Reckoning of Years."
Elladan nodded, impressed, and smiled as Elrohir and Rebecca played with the dog. They were as kindred spirits, both sitting on the floor, oblivious to decorum. He grew thoughtful as he watched them.
At last the fatigue from her long journey overcame Rebecca, and she excused herself to retire for the evening.
"Your ward is fair, indeed, Radagast! I wonder that you have kept her such a secret for these score of years!" said Elladan, his eyes following Rebecca as she left the hall.
"'Tis Tom who has done that, and for good reason," replied Radagast. "Yet she belongs to the world now, and shall have her share of it, mark my words!"
The following morning Rebecca reclined with a sigh in a comfortable chair overlooking one of the many beautiful gardens. New snow had fallen upon the evergreens, making them dazzling in the winter sun. She was dimly aware that she was being watched. She saw a figure move in one of the large windows facing her from the other side of the garden. It was Elladan. He had kept a close eye upon her since her arrival. It made her uncomfortable. She must speak with Radagast about their departure; the sooner the better. Now that she'd seen it she was ready to leave the house of Elrond. It was lovely but held no lasting comfort for her.
Elladan turned from the window to Radagast. He occupied one of the old leather chairs beside the hearth, where a cheery fire crackled. Elladan took the opposing chair, sinking into it with a sigh.
"Come, now, Elladan, you move like an old wizard! Surely your affairs do not weigh you down so heavily?"
He smiled in return. "Nay, Aiwendil. All is well here, save the absence of Elrond, which is dearly felt, I assure you. No, it is not Rivendell I wish to discuss. It is your ward."
"Indeed?" Radagast lit his pipe. "Does she concern you?"
"She concerns me very much, sir." Elladan sat back and made a tent of his fingers. His astute glance reminded Radagast of his father. And, as Elrond would have done, he waited several minutes before at last saying, "It is obvious to me that she is sister to Aragorn."
Radagast nodded. "Your insight does you justice, Elladan."
"The King knows nothing of this?"
"No, he does not."
"He will, the moment he sets eyes upon her. His vision is keen."
"That will be his affair, Elladan."
"It will upset him terribly, Aiwendil."
"That cannot be helped. I assure you that her role is as important as his, in its way."
"Do you not think that I am upset as well?"
"Perhaps you would like to expand upon that?"
"It is clear that her sire is not Arathorn, father to Aragorn."
"Is it?"
"She resembles her mother, yet there is something about her that is not of the Dúnedain. She has the blood of the Eldar Kindred, plainly."
"Again, your discernment does not fail you, Elladan."
"Let us stop this mincing of words, Radagast. Do I, too, have an unexpected sister?"
Radagast drew a deep breath. He had been prepared for this. "Aye, you do."
Elladan turned his gaze upon the fire. "My brother will not see this, of course. He is more interested in the beasts, as are you. Ought I tell him?"
"That is for you to decide, my friend."
"Aye, but I would take your counsel in this matter, for I am thinking none too clearly."
"The child's part in history is destined to be great, Elladan. Perhaps that is enough for you to know, for now."
Elladan shrugged. "I knew my father to be an Elf of high principles in all matters, yet I was not blind. He was ever lonely during his years here, after our mother left for the Western Shores. And I had seen many generations of Dúnedain women who sought shelter here. There was never one lovelier than Gilraen the Fair."
"Whatever your father's actions were, the girl is blameless, Elladan."
"I blame her not, sir. But it will be better, perhaps, if I speak to her of this matter openly. She is unsure of herself here, that is plain."
"She is very young and has not the experience to make her more sure of herself."
"Nevertheless I will speak to her, and to Elrohir. I would conceal nothing from him - I never have."
"As you wish, but I beg you to approach the subject gently with Rebecca."
"Of course. I would have her know that I bear her no ill will in the matter of her… lineage."
"Shall I summon her for this, Elladan?"
"No. No, I will seek her myself, for I have just seen her in the library. She spends a great deal of time there, pouring over ancient tomes."
"She is not yet comfortable in this house."
"Then I shall make her so."
Elladan took his leave of Radagast, who lit his pipe and waited.
Rebecca was, as he predicted, in the library. A great, dusty book was spread before her. Idly she flipped its pages. She looked up with a start as Elladan entered.
"We have the finest archives in Middle Earth, save those of Minis Tirith," he noted.
"I cannot judge their collection but this one is very fine," admitted Rebecca.
"What is it that you read?" he asked, sitting down beside her at the table.
"They are records of the First Age," she said.
He looked at the tome before her. "Ah, it is the tale of Eärendil the Mariner. A suitable subject for your perusal," he said.
"How so?" she asked, unconsciously shrinking away from him.
He sat back, making a tent of his fingers, as was his wont. "He is your grandfather, is he not?"
Her eyes flew wide. "Yes," she whispered, seeing no way to evade the question.
"He is mine as well, you know."
"Yes," she said again. She wished at this moment to be back in the House under the Hill, far away from this Elf with piercing silver eyes.
"It is an awkward meeting, I grant you, but I welcome you as a sister, Rebecca," he began, never dropping his gaze from her own.
Her eyes shifted back to the book open before her. "I don't know what to say, sir,"
she replied honestly.
Her simple demeanor charmed him and he laid his hand over hers upon the table. "You need say nothing. The matter is known to us and it is one we accept. I speak for my brother as well."
"You are too kind," murmured Rebecca, feeling her face grow hot.
"I sense that you feel uneasy with me; let me assure you there is no need. I hope, in time, you will come to see me as a brother."
Rebecca knew his heart was kind and she nodded gratefully. It was certainly a better reception than she had hoped for.
That evening, she stood upon the old stone bridge, listening to the waters rush below her feet. She was so lost in thought that she did not hear the approach of Elrohir. He laid a hand upon her shoulder. She turned and saw the kindness in his eyes. He pulled her into a silent, gentle embrace. He knew, and was not against her. That meant more to her than all of Elladan's eloquence.
They were silent for many moments, then he pointed into the night sky. "Mark you there - the Flammifer of Westernesse. Our grandsire rides upon Vingilot tonight."
The next morning, Rebecca and Radagast sat together in the library. She watched the birds outside the window. "What was he like, Uncle?"
Radagast lit his pipe. "Elrond Half-Elven? What was he like indeed - that is a rather sizeable question."
Rebecca shrugged. "Maybe so. I only know of him through the annals of history. But they are cold recitations, they do not tell of his true character or his heart."
"Aye, well, as to those I think only Elrond knows for certain. He was and is a complex being. In all of Middle Earth there was none greater in matters of wisdom and lore. He was present at the great Battle of Wrath, where the Valar threw down the walls of Thangorodrim. At the end of the First Age he chose the path of the Eldar; his brother's choice grieved him, of course, but each had his own destiny and Elrond recognized that. He founded Imladris with a remnant of the Noldor who remained in Middle Earth. He stood beside Gil-galad when he fell in battle with Sauron and he counseled Isildur to unmake the one ring. "
"Yes, Uncle, but those are all items of history. I know them already."
"I think you must know an Elf's history before you can understand the Elf, Rebecca. Gil-galad gave to Elrond the ring Vilya, mightiest of the three Elven rings, and with it he created the magic that was Rivendell. His love for his brother made him especially protective of the Dúnedain; after the fall of Isildur he gave the women and children of the royal line shelter and protection."
Rebecca sniffed. "Yes, he certainly protected my mother."
Radagast sighed and laid his long hand upon her shoulder. "You are understandably upset, Rebecca, for you knew neither of your parents during their time in Middle Earth. I promise you that Elrond did not trifle in anything. Be assured that he loved your mother dearly."
She sat long in thought. "Then, perhaps, it was she who is at fault for fleeing him and bearing me in secrecy."
Radagast shook his head. "There is naught to gain by assigning fault or blame in this matter. Gilraen thought she was doing the best thing, for all involved. You must respect that without bitterness."
"You are asking a great deal of me in that, Uncle."
"Aye, but no more than I know you to be capable of. Your destiny is in the hands of Ilúvatar, Rebecca. Look to that and do not despise your past."
She leaned into him and his strength. With a sigh she asked, "Whither do we travel now, Uncle?"
"Our road leads south, to Ithilien, little one."
Ithilien, she thought. A land of waterfalls, forests and Prince Legolas. "Yes, Uncle, let's go to Ithilien now."
Next: Ithilien, Fairest of the Westlands