Chapter Seventy-Four: Arrival and Invitation
Was it months, weeks, or only days they had been sailing? Time seemed to swim and blur into a haze of obscurity. Sun and rain, starlight and shadows blended and swirled together as joyous laughter mingled with calm silence. It all felt to Elrond I and II like a beautiful dream… but the half-elf knew it couldn't be, no matter how convincing Lórien's illusions often were. This was real; he was on his way to the Undying Lands, where he could live in happiness and peace, without fear of darkness or evil. Soon they would leave the bent seas behind them, and continue down the Straight Road to the Blessed Realm. Elrond was leaving home to find a home.
"Lord Elrond?"
The sweet female voice made Elrond II flinch slightly and spin around, startled out of his train of thought. He immediately recognized the elleth who stood opposite him: Haldir of Lothlórien's petite, green-eyed wife, Laurëlas, who had wedded the Marchwarden of the Golden Wood soon after Elrond II and Celebrían's own marriage ceremony. The half-elf smiled politely as he addressed his kinswoman. "Good afternoon, Laurëlas."
"Good afternoon, sir," the elleth replied courteously. "You're wanted belowdecks, sire, at the request of Lord Maglor. He wishes to speak with you in his cabin as soon as possible, whenever that is."
"It can be immediately, if he wants," Elrond II told her, and allowed the elleth to lead the way to Maglor's cabin. The lord of Mithlond leapt up from where he had been sitting and hurried toward them, speaking rapidly as he came. "Elrond, Elrond, just the elf I wanted to see! Please do come in – yes, thank you, Laurëlas, you're free to go – sit down, Elrond, please."
"Are you feeling all right, Maglor?" Elrond II asked anxiously, noticing that his kinsman was oddly ashy in the face as he closed the cabin door behind the retreating elleth. "What is this all about? Please, try to slow down a bit."
"I know you'll probably think me a total idiot for even thinking of this," Maglor replied, wringing his handkerchief in his hands as he spoke every bit as quickly as before, "but I can't help it, I just can't. I know Lord Mandos said I'd be welcomed into Valinor once we arrived, but I'm just worried… what if, what if, everything's questions and riddles! What if he was only telling me the things I wanted to hear? Maybe I won't be welcomed back into Valinor at all…"
"I have one very good reason why you're wrong," Elrond II promptly cut him off. "Lord Mandos is the Doomsman of the Valar, and as such, has been granted the knowledge of everything that has, is, and ever will happen in the whole world. Why would he choose to lie about something as tremendously important as that? I've trusted him with my very life for six thousand years, and I believe every word he said to you back in Mithlond."
Maglor looked as though he were about to reply, but he wisely kept his tongue in check. Elrond II clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, smiling, "Don't worry so much. You have the Valar's promise that you'll be just fine. Just you wait and see."
----
Merely a few days later, or so it seemed, the many inhabitants of Elwing awoke to behold a veil of fine, pearly mist cloaking the sea and the sky, and a complete halt to the endless gentle rocking of the ship. Everyone stood on the main deck, in speechless wonder at the uncanny phenomena.
Elrond I and II stood next to Celebrían, Arwen, Voronwë and Caranel II, while Galadriel and Maglor were a little ways apart from the rest. They stood side-by-side at the prow of the ship, gazing fixedly westward. All of the elves were mute, waiting with bated breath for something that none of them could ever fully explain…
All at once there rose a wave of music from nowhere and everywhere, as though someone had started to play a violin; yet no such minstrel was anywhere in sight. The only musical instrument on the deck was Maglor's harp (the harp that had once belonged to Gil-galad), but his fingers were nowhere near the strings. The melody drifted outward and around the deck, shivering eerily into the ears of the assembled elves.
Slowly another layer was added to the song: the rich bass undertones of a cello, hovering smoothly and steadily below the capricious falsetto voice of the violin. At the same time, two figures came momentarily into sight: a silver-haired lord clothed in grey and a white-skinned lord with hair and garments like a raven's feathers. Both were moving their lips, yet no voices came from their lips, save for the melodies of the instruments.
Then Galadriel's voice rang out, a strong alto, rising up to mingle with the weird and yet wonderful tune of the Valarin musicians. At her side, Maglor, too, began to sing in a fair tenor; and at the same time he dropped to one knee and wove his nimble fingers together with the strings of his harp, adding his own element to the harmony.
The music swelled upward in a sweet crescendo – an inundation of happiness, and light, and warmth, and unending peace. No elf present was dry-eyed, for they all knew that at last the bent Seas were behind them and the Straight Road was indeed open to them. The land of the Valar was near, and a single unidentified voice seemed to whisper soothingly into the heart of each specific elf. Come home, child of the West… Why do you weep? All of your fears will pass away… Turn your face to the green world… Use well the days.
----
Time was blissfully incalculable from that blessed morning onward. The silvery mist still hung about the ship like a soft curtain, but no-one minded it at all. All anyone could think about was how close the Undying Lands were getting as the days whirled past like hours. It felt as if mere days had passed when a shout echoed down from the crow's-nest: "Land ho, dead ahead as she goes!"
The elves flocked to the main deck, clustering at the swan's-head prow. Sure enough, lit up by the rose-and-golden dusk, the shores of the Blessed Realm gleamed like a strand of pearls, and an ivory-white tower stood like a patient watchman, as though to herald their coming. The rolling hills behind were like great emeralds heaped beneath a huge range of mountains, whose amethyst-hued peaks rose up to immeasurable heights. The fathomless, passionate sensation of peace, of joy, of life, drew them strongly, but tenderly onward.
As the distance between ship and shore lessened, the elves could see clearly the harbor of Alqualondë, Swan-haven. A choir of elven voices arose to greet the newcomers, every bit as bright and blissful as larks' exaltations: "Welcome, brothers and sisters!"
"Thank you!" Elrond I called out in joyous reply, as he stood foremost at Elwing's prow.
A ramp was lowered to the dock, and the elves on the ship moved into a more organized throng, as those of the haven stood and waited patiently below. Elrond I descended first, with his mother at his side, and the two of them were almost immediately smothered in a great group hug by dozens of Valinorean elves. Taking that as a good sign, all the others began to disembark in twos and threes.
Galadriel and Maglor warily approached the top of the ramp side-by-side; as both of them were exiles, they were on equal footing here. The dark-haired lord, remembering Mandos and his wise counsel, squeezed his cousin's hand reassuringly, and they walked down the ramp together.
A far cry from the coldness Galadriel had been ardently dreading, both elven rulers were in tight embraces even before they were fully aware of it. Laughing and weeping, the son of Fëanor and daughter of Finarfin allowed themselves to be overwhelmed by their elated kindred.
Finally extricating himself from the fervent arms of his kin, Elrond I caught his younger half by the shoulder and gasped breathlessly in his ear. "This is amazing! I'm seeing with two pairs of eyes what I never got to see with only one pair!"
"Well, I suppose we've seen enough to last us two lifetimes, then, eh?" Elrond II winked.
"Oh, there will never be enough to see!" the elder half-elf exclaimed, his voice a little bit hoarse with delight. "We could spend ten lifetimes wandering around here, and probably still be surprised!"
"Yes, indeed," smiled a voice from just above them. Both halves of Elrond looked up into the cheerful, bearded face of Tulkas. As Elrond I and II bowed low, the Wrestler gave out a hearty laugh.
"I understand that you have not yet had the chance to make yourselves fully at home, but I bring word from Manwë that you and your mother are invited to attend a celebratory banquet in honor of your arrival, which is to be held in Ilmarin upon Taniquetil, in no less than three days' time."
The elf bowed again, and Elrond I acted as spokesperson. "We would be most honored to attend, sire."
Tulkas nodded, laughing again in obvious approval. "Excellent! I will indeed extend your reply to my kindred. I hope also that we may meet again, perhaps before the feast."
"As do we," Elrond II smiled graciously.
The Wrestler nodded a second time, tipping the half-elf a cheerful wink before vanishing discreetly from view. But Elrond I soon spotted a large golden-pelted stag galloping away up the jewel-green hills.
----
Three days: that was seventy-two hours, or one thousand, four hundred and forty minutes of waiting. True, they were tremendously busy minutes, in which a great deal of moving and settling-in was done (Elrond, Celebrían, Galadriel, Arwen, Voronwë and Caranel all found homes in the splendid city of Tirion-upon-Tunà, while Elwing returned to her long-vacant tower and Maglor chose to dwell quite contentedly in Alqualondë), but they were anxious nonetheless.
Elrond II stared intently westward, scouring the green countryside with his eyes, striving to snatch a glimpse of pale gold against the endlessly-rolling emerald hills. He turned his head to look suddenly over his shoulder as Elrond I approached softly from behind to join him at the window.
"Any sign of Lord Tulkas yet?" the elder elf inquired conversationally.
"Not yet," the younger answered. "It's almost dusk; he should be here soon."
"You can count on him arriving just in time," his godfather smiled, just at the same time as three polite knocks sounded upon the front door, several rooms away. Whirling about, Elrond I cried, "It's him!"
Celebrían had already answered the door by the time both of Elrond's halves were in the room. Rising from where she had been kneeling reverently before Tulkas, the lady of the household smiled at her husband as she moved aside to give the Wrestler space to enter.
"Good evening, my lord," Elrond I and II said as one, bowing low to their kinsman.
"Good evening to you both," Tulkas replied, nodding to both husband and wife. "Are you ready to ride to Taniquetil?" he asked Elrond.
Both halves of the elf nodded in eager affirmation. The Vala laughed benevolently. "Very good! Give me a moment to step outside and change, and the we will be on our way." He backed unobtrusively out the door as he spoke.
"Won't you stay a little longer, sire?" Celebrian asked invitingly. She seemed completely unfazed by the shape-shifting figure on the doorstep, who now bore great resemblance to a very large stag with a fine golden hide and sparkling hazel eyes.
"If I were granted the time enough, no doubt I would," Tulkas told her, dipping his great antlered head cordially as Elrond I and II clambered onto his back. "But I will remember that most gracious offer."
"Our door is always open to you and your kinsfolk, sire," Elrond II smiled, "should you choose to drop by."
"Thanks and blessings to you both!" cried the Wrestler-stag, laughing aloud again. With a final nod to Celebrían, he took off in a thunder of hoofs.
----
Valinor's lush countryside sped past in a blur of dappled green. The moon was new that night; the only light came from the myriad stars, all of them outshone by Eärendil. Tulkas raced on over the rolling hills far below, never showing signs of fatigue or breathlessness. The low drumming of his hoofs matched the drumming of Elrond's two hearts.
"Hold tight," the stag warned his rider. "Our path is about to become quite rocky!"
They were deep in the east foothills of the Pelori – the great mountains of Valinor. Tulkas picked his way carefully around and over the rocks as surely-footed as a mountain goat as the landscape rose steadily under the stag-Vala's hoofs. Elrond II clung tightly to Tulkas' shoulder blades, and Elrond I clung tightly to his godson's waist.
The rock that they were on was now exceptionally steep, but someone skilled had carven a wide, winding flight of stairs up the slope. Tulkas cantered easily up the steps, until he spied an almost indiscernible fracture in the slick stone face. Here he stopped and advised them, "You had best climb off my back; we will continue from here on foot."
Unquestioningly the half-elf obeyed him, and the Vala reared up onto his hind legs as he resumed his humanoid form. With his strong right fist he rapped thrice upon the smooth rock, just to the right of the crack, and the hair's-breadth fissure leisurely widened with a loud, scraping rumble. Soon a doorway stood before them, wide enough for them both to pass through abreast. Glittering lights beckoned them inward.
"Welcome to the dwelling of our Lord and Lady," a male and a female voice chimed out from within.
Tulkas inclined his head respectfully, and Elrond I and II bowed low to the pair of Maiar. The male – Eönwë, herald of Manwë – nodded his raven-haired head in return, deep blue eyes glinting. It was his feminine companion – Ilmarë, Varda's golden-haired, silver-eyed handmaiden – who spoke to them alone, in a sweet alto voice.
"Please enter. Our Lord and Lady are nearly ready to commence the celebration; the last of the Valar are even now arriving." She and her kinsman stepped politely aside to let the waiting guests in, then turned and led them forward.
Elrond was awed by the sheer craftsmanship of the vast mountain-mansion of Taniquetil, even though he knew this was not nearly the most glorious part. The heart of the massive stone structure had been expertly hollowed and hewn, with many intricate designs carven into the walls around them. The very stone seemed to shine with thin veins of pure light.
The four companions were walking up one of several flights of stairs, just a few of which were discernible, with other Valar, and presumably other pairs of Maiar, ascending them. Elrond smiled when he saw his mother climbing a flight alongside of Ulmo, and waved back at her when she did.
After what felt like quite a few hours, and many twists and turns in their path, Elrond and his comrades saw a pair of double doors at the top of their stairway. Eönwë stepped up to them boldly, and raising his hand, he knocked on one of the doors as Tulkas had knocked on the mountainside.
"The lords Tulkas and Elrond have arrived!" he called out strongly.
"Then by all means, let them come!" cried Manwë's voice in reply, from behind the door. There was clear laughter in the Wind-lord's tone.
Ilmarë strode forward to stand beside Eönwë, and each of the Maiar pushed on one of the doors, and courteously bowed the Vala and half-elf inside. Tulkas crossed the threshold confidently, with Elrond's halves walking meekly on either side. But neither Elrond I nor Elrond II could keep from smiling at the wondrous sight that greeted them.