Beyond the Circles of the World

It was as though you had stepped out of the circles of the world and travelled to a distant land, glittering with more magic than Middle-earth could ever hope to possess.

But, here, all the magic was good.

The trees, strong and ancient, stood proud, guarding anyone who walked through. If you listened with every ounce of your being, eyes closed, utterly relaxed, you could sometimes hear them creaking. Not in the wind – the wind barely passed through here – and not through any other force of nature but themselves. They were as alive as the white foxes which scampered through the long grass and the big, pastel fish that swam in the otherwise undisturbed pools of water, dotting the place like tiny wells of enchantment.

And if you walked through the trees, feeling the dew-dropped blades of grass beneath your feet and daintily brushing aside the wisteria and the frosted long moss hanging lazily from the branches, you could hear a sound, almost like a distant singing, like the garden was stuck in a time long ago, and you immediately felt more at peace than you have ever been before.

Because this was Celebrian's garden.

Eleniel came here to think.

She always had done.

She would open the beechwood gate and take the beautifully overgrown path, hidden to any who were not frequent visitors. And she would step over wildflowers and her eyes would linger on the cluster of red roses further along – one had been picked a thousand or so years ago and remained, bright and blooming, in a glass dome in the Hall of Fire.

She would walk through the wisteria and hanging long moss, treasuring the feeling of petals on her face and breathing in the scent of flowers and blossoms. And then she would sit under a willow tree, her willow tree, her back against the bark, and she would listen for the singing, and sometimes one of the white fox cubs would curl up to sleep on her lap.

And that sense of peace would wash over her like it did each time; a wave of hushed tranquillity she only felt when in the garden.

This time was no different, except Eleniel could feel a change in the air.

It wasn't a bad change.

She could still hear the yips of the foxes playing nearby, and the little splash of water as a pastel fish jumped from one pond to the other seemed to echo in her mind.

It was just a change.

She sighed, lifting her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Memories of times she'd spent here with her father seemed to play out in front of her as though she were witnessing them from afar; she could see the intense concentration on her face as she placed a wonky flower crown on his dark head. She could see herself sat in his lap, pointing at a drifting family of swans along the crystal lake and babbling questions only the father of an elfling could have the patience to listen to and answer. She could see the awe in her little eyes as she watched him gently pick up a fuzzy green caterpillar and show her how to hold it without harming it.

She smiled at the wonderful memories, and yet a tear dropped to the floor, nonetheless.

This was it.

This was the change.

She continued to stare ahead at where they had found the caterpillar – she remembered asking if people ate caterpillars, and her father had laughed at her before replying that no, not unless they wished to be sick – even when she felt a gentle presence at her side and someone lowering to sit next to her.

A bluebird chirped whimsically in the tree ahead, and a starling responded in kind from another tree. Both trees creaked, as though joining in the conversation, and Eleniel smiled softly. She turned to the one beside her.

"It feels strange," she said quietly.

Glorfindel nodded. "I know."

She leant her head on his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.

And she knew.

She'd always known.

"You are leaving for Valinor, too," she said. Stated. As quiet as the breeze.

A slight pause. And then, "yes."

Eleniel stared at the spot on the lake she could so vividly remember the swans being. Strange how everything was still as they'd left it, even though they were long gone.

Yes. This was definitely the change.

"Okay," she whispered, and then moved closer, feeling his arms wrap around her and his chin come to rest on top of her head.

And there they sat, together in the garden, on Middle-earth, for perhaps the last time.

Elf and elf. Warrior and warrior. Heart and heart.