Chapter Seventeen
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SUMMARY: Rhian confronts Daeron about what she's just heard...
...and it doesn't go well.
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"Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn't have. Maybe there's a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again."
― Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I'm Home
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City of Dale, 20th of August 2942 T.A.
"What?" Rhian gasped.
"I'm sorry, Rhian." Ben took a bite of pie, and after swallowing it, he said, "I honestly though you knew. He's going on some assignment to where these other Elves live. Lethl…. Looth... I don't know. Anyway, they're sending some of their folks here for a year, and Daeron and some Guardians will be going there."
"For a year?"
"I thought I told you." He winced. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Things are so crazy at work, and I hardly see you as it is…"
"No, Da; don't blame yourself," she patted his forearm. You've been working your fingers to the bone." She reassured him. "Like you said, he's a soldier, and he has to follow orders."
"Wasn't an order. Lord Thranduil asked him about it last month."
"Asked him? King Thranduil didn't command him to go?" Then it registered. "Wait; did you say, 'last month?"'
"Aye. It's a voluntary assignment, but here's the kicker: The Lord and Lady requested Daeron by name! I hear she's a mighty powerful Elf. Much more than Thranduil, or even her husband."
"But why would he agree with that, if he didn't have to?" Rhian was thoroughly confused. "They need him here! He looks after Lady Tilda, and she still needs help, and all those people in the Healing House… What about Lord Bard?"
"I guess that's all taken care of. Another Healer came from Thranduil's Palace to take his place a while back, and Turamarth is going to be in charge of Lord Bard in the meantime. It's all set."
"So, he knew he was leaving? All this time?" Rhian repeated again, still not believing what she was hearing.
"It'll be fine, love. This is Daeron we're talking about." Ben put his hand over hers. "I'm sure he meant no offense, sweetheart. He's your friend."
But Rhian couldn't stop her head from spinning. Daeron knew, when he was with her in the Market that day. He knew when he came to the house and sat with her in the garden, and tried to help her feel better, and he knew those evenings at the Castle with Sigrid.
And he said nothing.
Her chest tightened, and her stomach began to churn…
Darryn cry of outrage brought her out of her reverie. He was protesting loudly at his dinner being interrupted. Rhian turned back to her son, and looked at her Da. They were her family and deserved her attention.
After the meal was finished, and the supper dishes washed, they sat comfortably in the living room, as Ben enjoyed his pipe, and laughed at the baby's antics. Rhian got down on the rug and played with him, until it was time for his night-time feeding (with a bottle, now that he has been weaned), then put him to bed with a dry diaper, and his favorite blankie.
"Da? Would you mind watching Darryn? I won't be long."
"Sure thing. If you're going to see Daeron, I think he'll be coming off duty at the Castle right about now."
"Thanks, Da." She kissed his cheek.
Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Are you all right, love? I hope you're not upset." He gave her a worried look.
Rhian looked down at this dear man, and smiled. Her new father looked tired; he was working from sunrise to sunset, to get Dale up and running, and the last thing he needed was to be burdened with any more than he already was.
"I'm fine, Da. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding, and he probably just forgot, with how busy he is. It'll be fine." She squeezed his hand. "I won't be long."
It was still light out, and the evening sun cast a beautiful orange glow on the buildings of Dale, but Rhian paid no attention. With every step she took, her feelings of hurt, confusion and anger grew. This couldn't be right! He wouldn't do that to her and he especially wouldn't do that to her son!
Oh, gods… The very thought of him just sneaking out of Darryn's life made her blood boil! He wasn't going to even say goodbye to the innocent little boy who had done nothing but love adore him!
Why would he do that? How could he?
Up ahead, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and she watched Daeron walk out. His long, auburn hair shone in the setting sun, and blew in the breeze, as he nimbly trotted down the steps and turned away, toward his home.
"Daeron!" She called out angrily. "Daeron!"
The Elven Guard froze, but didn't turn around.
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Amarth faeg …
Ruvyn was on duty at the entrance of the Great Hall, and had just said goodbye to Daeron, as he walked through the open door out onto the dais, on the warm summer evening.
He absentmindedly watched him turned toward the center of the City, when he heard someone call out to him, and saw the look on Daeron's face.
Ai, gorgor!
Quickly he whispered orders in Sindarin to the other guard. "Get inside and close these doors. Say nothing."
"But why?" The other Guard asked. "Are we not supposed to –"
"You will do as your told because I outrank you. Now, do it!"
The Elves moved silently, and with a minimum of noise, the deed was done, and the Guards were closed inside.
"Get King Thranduil," Ruvyn ordered. "Tell him it is not an emergency, but his presence is needed at the entrance to the Great Hall right away. Then stay by the back doors, and make sure we are not disturbed. Everything you have seen and heard is under Seal, is that understood?"
"Yes sir." The soldier saluted and did as he was told, and within seconds Lord Thranduil hurried out.
"What is the problem, out here, Ruvyn?" Thranduil lowered his tone when Ruvyn put his finger to his lips.
"We have a personal situation I think you should be aware of, My Lord, and I need your instructions." The Lieutenant looked stricken. "I would never do this, My Lord, but it involves Daeron." Quickly he explained what he saw.
"I see. You were right to act. Are they outside now?"
"Yes, My Lord, and Lady Rhian is… it is not going well."
Thranduil sighed, ordered the Guard to remain, then went back into his living quarters to change.
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As soon as a Daeron heard Rhian's tone of voice, he froze, and his eyes closed in consternation.
She had found out, if her angry footsteps were any indication, and he had been dreading this.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way! The last thing in the world Daeron wanted to do was hurt her. He didn't mean to keep anything from her, but he'd been wracking his brains for weeks for something to say. He'd avoided the subject all together, because he honestly didn't trust himself, between what he wanted to say, and what was best, and his anxiety of late had been overwhelming.
He could hardly eat, and he knew Turamarth noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He hated to cause his cousin any concern – he was busy trying to get Bowen back on his feet, and of course, nothing could be said in front of the boy – but the days leading up to his departure were filled with increasing anxiety. Every cell in his body was begging him to stay, telling him not to separate from her. He was exhausted from tossing and turning at night, to try to come up with the right words, but none came to his mind, that didn't end with him dropping to his knees and spilling the contents of his heart, and begging her to love him.
Ai Belain, nesto nín...
"Turn around and look at me! Look at me!"
The Elf took a deep breath, schooled his face into an emotionless mask, and turned to face her.
"I've heard some interesting news, Daeron," she crossed her arms angrily. "Da and I were having dinner, and he started talking about your new job." Her voice was sarcastic, "Naturally Da assumed I knew all about it, because of course, you would have told me." She shook her head. "Imagine Ben's surprise when he realized I didn't know a thing about it!"
Daeron's eyes closed, and he said nothing.
"So," she continued in the same tone, "like an idiot, I decided to come and talk to you, because of course that couldn't be right. You'd never do something like that without saying something, but from the look on your face, I can see I really am an idiot, aren't I?" her eyes were wide with disbelief.
"Rhian, you are not –"
"How dare you!" she said, through gritted teeth. "You knew, all this time you were going to leave and you didn't think I deserve to know?"
"I understand –"
"NO! You don't understand! You don't have the foggiest idea how stupid I feel! Everybody knew about this, but me! You bastard! You bastard!"
"It's not like that," he began. "Please, Hind Calen –"
"Don't call me that! It's exactly like that! YOU," she jabbed her finger in his chest, "give me all this bullshit about how I can depend on you, how you'll always be there for me, and you do this? I was just beginning to think I was worth something, because someone as kind and as good as you believed in me! You convinced me to believe in myself, and it was all a lie!"
"No! That is not true!"
"It is true! You knew you were leaving, and you were going to be gone for an entire year! You had all these chances to talk to me about it, but you didn't think I was a good enough friend to bother tell me?" Her face was twisted with fury and hurt. "You're a liar! The worst kind of liar Daeron!" Her eyes filled and spilled over. "You're just like them!"
"Who do you mean?"
"You know who." She shook her head and laughed.
"Rhian!" Daeron flinched, as if he'd been slapped. "How could you say that?"
"Because it's true! I trusted them, and look where it got me? They took everything away from me… They took my insides and chewed them up and spit them out like I was nothing, because I was nothing to them! My son and I nearly died, because I believed what they thought about me!"
Daeron couldn't believe what she was saying. "Rhian, please, I never m –"
"Shut up! You had plenty of chances to open your mouth. I'm doing the talking now!" She angrily wiped her eyes, with shaking hands. "I never thought I'd say this in a thousand years, Daeron, but you," she pointed at his chest, "are worse!
"Garth and Phylip were horrible, but at least they didn't hide who they were to me. They never pretended to my face, like you did! My dad didn't give a fiddler's fuck about me, and he didn't care who knew it. Garth might have acted different to in public, but even when he was raping me and beating the living shit out of me, I knew it wasn't an act! He wasn't PRETENDING!"
"Daro! Law!" he cried in Sindarin, though he didn't realize it. "Gin atho iallon, daro!"
She was practically sobbing the words out. "Everybody in Laketown knew he was an arse and a mean drunk, but at least he didn't pretend with me! It was my own fault I accepted his abuse, and that's on me, but I didn't know any better."
She huffed out a sardonic laugh, "I was ignorant to think I know better now. I don't know anything, really."
"No!" Daeron's eyes filled, and he shook his head. "It is not true!"
But you." Her lip curled, and she wiped her eyes. "Are so much worse than Phylip or Garth could ever be. You had EVERBODY fooled, didn't you? Everywhere you go, you're this big hero, and I actually began to have faith in you, when nobody else in this world could get near me! YOU insinuated yourself into my life and you kept coming to visit and MADE me trust you!
"How could you? How could you do that?" her voice broke, and she started to cry. "Over and over, you convinced me to depend on you and you were just going to fucking disappear without a word?"
"No! It was not like that! I lo–" Daeron stopped, and closed his mouth and said nothing more, but his face grew pale with shame.
Then Rhian's tears stopped, and her voice lowered in fury. "All that was bad enough, and yes, you've hurt me. But let me ask you: what did my son ever do to you, besides love you like a father? He lights up every time you're near him! You were going to leave Darryn without saying a word, you lying bastard!"
Her teeth clenched with a fury he'd never seen in her, and suspected she didn't even know she possessed. "It's one thing to kick me in the guts, but you were going to turn your back on an innocent child, who you claim, you love like a son. A child I named after you!
The Elf swallowed, and clapped his hand over his mouth.
"Daeron, I feel like slapping you for hurting me. I feel like stabbing you until you bleed out in front of me, for hurting my son. But I won't. I won't be like Phylip, or Garth, and I won't be like you, either. I will not allow someone hurt me like that, ever again."
She stepped up to him so that her face was mere inches away. "I'm going to give you the honesty and courtesy you never gave me, Daeron."
"What do you mean?" His breath caught, as he looked into her eyes.
"I'm not going to tell Da how angry I am, but only because he's so overworked, he can hardly see straight. The last thing he needs, is to worry about me. Besides, you're only here for two more days, so after that, we won't be an inconvenience to you.
"But as far as I'm concerned, you can stay wherever it is you're going, because I don't want to see you, or speak to you ever again! Stay away from me!"
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Daeron put his arms around his middle and doubled over. He couldn't breathe. Rhian's words had kicked him so hard his lungs might never take air again.
His chest felt like it was going to burst, but he just couldn't get them to work. He put his hands over his mouth and tried to concentrate, and relax, but it was only a half-hearted effort, because he didn't want to breathe anymore. He didn't really want to do anything anymore; what was the point?
He stumbled over to the steps, sat down and buried his head in his arms, listening to roar in his ears as his heart broke.
"Ci vaer, Daeron?"
He raised his head, and looked up in mortification at the Elvenking, who was standing in front of him, dressed in his leather armor. In one of his hands, he carried riding gloves, and in the other, a leather satchel.
Ai gorgor… He closed his eyes in horror, and he groaned. Everyone in the Great Hall must have heard… could this get any worse?
"Did everyone witness that, My Lord? I am sorry –"
"'Everyone?' Who is 'everyone?'" The Elvenking looked around, and up and the closed doors of the Great Hall. "There is none here but us, Lieutenant. It is a beautiful evening, the weather is clear, and we have a pleasant cool breeze." Thranduil said. "I feel like a taking a ride. You will accompany me."
"Yes, My Lord."
Daeron tried to get up, but he stumbled, so his King oh-so casually grabbed his arm, and together, they walked to the stables.
Aegis and Naurmôr were old friends, and they swished their tails and tossed their heads in excitement, as the King and his Lieutenant quickly saddled them, and led them out of the barn. After Thranduil put his satchel in his saddle bag, mounted up and made their way out of the West Gate of Dale, and headed toward the nearby forest.
"It is kind of you to do this, My Lord."
"Do what?" Thranduil shrugged. "You are my Guard, if only for three more days, and I find I am in need of some time among the trees. Naurmôr needs exercise; we make a long journey soon, and I want to prevent stiffness and injury."
They rode for a few miles until they reached a copse of trees, then meandered among them at a leisurely pace. The Elvenking raised his face to the sky and inhaled deeply. "I must come here more often, I think. I have spent so many years with a sick forest, I have forgotten how exhilarating it feels to be in a healthy one. Hmmm…." He opened his eyes and asked him. "Did your parents ever talk to you about Eryn Galen, when it was beautiful, and lush and green?" he asked the Lieutenant. "Before it was called Mirkwood?"
"I grew up with many stories of it. My parents, and my Aunt and Uncle spend many evenings telling tales to Turamarth and I."
"I have prayed for centuries that I will one day see it restored, the way it was when your father, Commander Feren, and I used to play in it as children. As much as it pains me to lose all that territory in the South, our people still have some of the forest to live in, thanks to you. I am immensely proud of all my Guardians, and my Army, Daeron. If it weren't for your diligence, we would not even have that."
"It is no duty, My Lord. It is our calling to protect the forest. Silvans are meant to live among the trees. I want to help them."
"Yet so much of my Kingdom is gone," Thranduil mused. "Maybe it has truly been lost."
"No, My Lord." Daeron looked up at the leaves of the trees, and heard the wind speak in soothing tones.
"But it looks dead; it is dark and dank and frightening. I am sure the Wardens from Lothlórien will see it, and be convinced it is beyond all hope." The King shook his head sadly. "Perhaps they would be right."
"They would be mistaken! The Wardens do not understand, that is all."
"And why would they? Their home is protected by the Lady of the Golden Wood, who has powers beyond anything even I could accomplish. All they know is a heathy forest like this," he gestured at their surroundings.
"But they are Silvans – do they not feel the trees like we do?"
Thranduil tilted his head and looked at him, thoughtfully. "What will you say to them, when they look at Mirkwood and hear nothing from the trees? Will they not decide the forest has died?"
"Of course, I will tell them the truth; the forest is sleeping, because Rhadagast the Brown puts the trees and plants to sleep, so they do not suffer, while we wait."
"'Wait for what?' they will surely ask…"
"For the day evil will be destroyed, and our home could be brought back to life." Daeron said earnestly. "Our homeland was once very beautiful, and it could be again."
Thranduil sighed. "The Woodland Realm is infested now: the spiders, the Orcs, even the smell of evil that has permeated the land now. It seems impossible." The Elvenking shook his head ruefully. "Perhaps we are lying to ourselves, Daeron, merely holding on to a fool's hope."
"It is not a fool's hope, My Lord!" The Lieutenant said with the same surety and passion he'd felt all his life for the land he came from. "This dream, that the Greenwood could be alive and healthy again is why we wait, why we fight so diligently to protect it, even now that it is sick! It is why we go out there, day after day, year after year after year. We see beyond what our eyes and ears tell us, and have faith."
Daeron's voice was earnest. "I believe with all my heart, that the time will come, when everything will fall into place, and Sauron will be defeated once and for all! I want to be at My King's side when that time comes, when all our labors will be fulfilled."
His King narrowed his eyes, regarded him closely. "Daeron, you are telling me not to give up? To pay no attention to how bad things appear now, for all may not be lost?"
"Never lose sight of the vision you have for what things could be." Daeron encouraged him. "Fight as hard as you can to make this dream come true, or you will never forgive yourself."
"Well, Mellon nîn," Thranduil grinned, "I can see you need no pearls of wisdom from me. Perhaps my advice to you would simply be to follow your own advice."
Daeron paused for a moment, then shook his head and laughed to himself. He'd fallen right into that one, and bless Thranduil a thousand times for it.
Thranduil stopped Naurmôr, and looked up at the wide, ancient tree in front of them. "Ah. This tree will do nicely - what do you think?"
The Elvenking had taken them to Daeron's favorite Oak tree.
"How did you know, My Lord?" The Guard's eyes widened in surprise.
"It is my business to know. I also know you should have a chance to spend time with it, before you leave." The King dismounted, and took the satchel from his saddle bag. "I am sure you have not had supper yet, and I am in the mood for a picnic in the trees." Thranduil hung the satchel his shoulder and jumped high into the air, grabbed a limb and gracefully swung himself. In almost an instant he disappeared among the leaves and branches.
He dismounted, and quickly followed his friend and liege up the tree.
Once they were comfortable, Thranduil opened his satchel and produced the meal, and poured wine from the large skin into two cups. Daeron ate, and the Elvenking snacked in comfortable silence.
"Thank you, Thranduil."
"Me? It was you who gave encouragement and excellent advice." He filled their cups again. "Anyway, I have been hoping to have the chance to tell you about the land you will be visiting. Has anyone told you what Lothlórien is like?"
"No, My Lord."
"You will love it. There are Mallorn trees, the likes of which does not exist outside their lands. You will be astounded at their size. My cousin, Lord Celeborn – did I ever tell you he is my distant kin?"
"No, you did not."
Thranduil smiled. "Now, that is a story. He is much older than even my father, and they are also related to King Thingol. My parents took me to the Golden Wood when I was a child, and when I first met Celeborn, I could not believe he was so tall..."
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Daeron listened to Thranduil's stories long after the sun went down, with increasing interest. The King regaled him with tales of the land he would be staying in, of their homes, or flets high in the trees, and everything Thranduil could remember about their customs and traditions.
The weight around the Guard's heart lightened just a little bit, as he listened to Thranduil's words, and he began to look forward to this experience. He wanted to see this wondrous place and meet this extraordinary Queen of the Elves, the most powerful in all of Middle Earth. Maybe Turamarth was right. Maybe his destiny was waiting for him in the Land of the Golden Wood.
The King and the Guardian sat and talked until the early hours of the morning…
...and not once did his King ask him what happened in the courtyard.
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City of Dale, Just before dawn, 21st of August 2942 T.A.
"What are you doing in the dark, Gwador?"
Turamarth was tying his robe, as he came out of his room, to find Daeron, fully clothed, sitting in dark.
"I accompanied Lord Thranduil on a ride in the woods last evening."
"That must have been some ride. Have you slept at all?"
"No."
Turamarth took in the paleness of his cousin's face, and his tired, defeated posture. "When did you get back?"
"Three hours ago. He spoke at great length about Lothlórien, and the Lord and Lady. It sounds an interesting place, vastly different from the Woodland Realm – at least the way it is now. I think," he exhaled, "I think living in healthy forest will be good for me."
"More important, your gifts and your experience will help them. I know you, cousin: you need to be useful, to feel like you are contributing, no matter where you are."
"I truly believe this could benefit the future, and I want to help…" Daeron laughed ruefully, and looked into his wineglass. "I was accused of wanting to be seen as a 'hero,' to everyone. That it was an arrogant façade to soothe my ego."
Turamarth was shocked. "Who would say such things?"
"Rhian."
"That cannot possibly be true! How could you refuse when the Lady asked for you by name? She knows why this assignment is important!"
"Actually," He put his face in his hand. "She did not." He mumbled.
"Of course you are not going to tell her everything, but surely when you told her –" Turamarth's heart sank. "You did not tell her. Oh, Gwador…. Why?"
"It does not matter, anymore; she hates me." Daeron sighed. "It is over. Maybe it is easier that way."
Turamarth studied him carefully. "Easier for whom?"
"I thought it would be easier to wait to tell her right before I left…"
"Again, easier for whom?"
Daeron looked at him, then at his drink, and said in a small voice. "I told myself it would be easier for her if I waited until the last minute. I did not want to admit the truth."
"Which is what?"
"I was only thinking of myself."
"Yes, you were." The Elf sat down on the couch beside him. "But I think I understand why. Could you speak with her, and try to make it right?"
"And say what?" Daeron's snapped, louder than he meant to, then gave a worried look toward the spare room. "I am sorry."
"Do not be. Bowen and Beriel are on an overnight visit with his family. If it goes well, he will go back permanently." Turamarth assured him. "Go on.""
"I avoided her because I did not know what to say, and I was afraid, Tur. I have barely hung on, and the minutes seem like hours now. I cannot sleep…" he looked up at the ceiling and tried to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall.
"You are exhausted, Gwador. I am sorry I have not noticed before now."
"You have been working, and mentoring Bowen. You should not be worried for me."
"Regardless, I am going to see about a sleeping spell tonight. You cannot go on like this."
Daeron didn't argue.
"Was Rhian really that upset?"
"Why should she not be? She sees it as a betrayal, as if I never cared about her. And when she accused me of not caring about Darryn…" he could hold the tears back no longer. "She thinks I only pretended to love him, that I only pretended to be her friend… Rhian said I was worse than her husband, and her birth father, because I've lied to her. I –"
"I am so sorry, Daeron." Turamarth took the cup out of his cousin's hand, and set it on the table, then sat down beside him. "She said terrible things, Gwador, but maybe that was because she has been so hurt in the past. Think of all the betrayals she has suffered, Mellon. Rhian is stronger now, but that does not mean she unscarred. What did you say?"
"I did not have a chance to speak. She was too angry."
"Give her time to calm down, and sort things out. Perhaps she will seek you out."
"I leave the day after tomorrow." Daeron sighed. "Maybe it is selfish, but even if she wants to talk to me, I am not sure I am up to it." He ran his hand over his face. "I will miss her, and the thought of not seeing Darryn…" His voice broke, and he couldn't continue.
"I will write as often as possible, and tell you everything, Mellon. You will have more news from here than you will know what to do with." Turamarth patted him on the back. "You have a few hours before you report for duty. Try to get a little sleep, if you can."
"I will. Thank you."
"I am your best friend, Gwador. Thanks are not needed. Now," he got up from the couch, and put his hands on his hips. "Have you finished packing? Your trunks are supposed to be picked up tomorrow afternoon."
"No." Daeron admitted.
"Ai, that is typical. You always wait until the last minute." Turamarth chuckled. "Never mind; I will do it. You are terrible at it anyway - haphazard and messy, just like your room." He grinned. "I feel sorry for your roommate in the Golden Wood; what are you going to do, without me to clean up after you?"
Daeron couldn't help but laugh. "I will be living high in the trees, so I can just toss the mess over the balcony." He also stood, then grabbed Turamarth suddenly, and embraced him.
"I will miss you, Mellon nîn," he whispered. "What will I do without you to hold me up, like you have always done?"
"I will always be your biggest supporter, and your closest friend." Turamarth returned his hug. "Think about all the adventures we have shared; of all the times we have rescued each other. Have I ever let you fall? Ever?"
"No."
"And I won't. You do not need me to stand next to you, to know the words I would say. Yet those words will be every bit as true as if I were. I have always known my life would be spent helping you fulfill the role the Valar wants for you. You are an Elf with rare gifts, Gwador, and everyone who knows you can see how special you are."
Yet Daeron doubted himself. "Maybe Rhian is right, Tur. Perhaps I enjoy being the hero."
"What of it?" Turamarth shrugged. "You do not do these things to seek accolades or attention, but this is who you are, Daeron. Is it wrong to take pleasure in saving lives, in bringing new life into this world?"
Daeron smiled. "You have always supported me… I worry that you do not get the credit you deserve."
"Do you remember what I told you, after Sellwen died? 'Lean on me, until you are strong once more.' That is my role, Mellon nîn, and it always will be." Turamarth stepped back. "Now get your hach to bed, and get little sleep. You look terrible."
After his cousin went to his room and shut the door, Turamarth cleared the glasses, and put them away, before going back to bed himself. As he passed Daeron's room, he wasn't surprised to hear sounds of soft weeping.
Tur sighed, and prayed earnestly for these next few days to pass quickly. Daeron had been looking and feeling terrible, and he was afraid he would end up in the same condition he had been when Sellwen died.
He'd meant it, when he told Daeron to lean on him. That was his calling; Tur supported his gifted cousin, his best friend, until he could stand on his own again.
And while Daeron was away, he would send up prayers for his well-being, write him copious letters, and watch over the young mother and child he loved.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Amarth faeg - Holy shit (lit. "evil fate")
Ai Belain, nesto nín – Oh Valar, help me.
Ci vaer, Daeron? – Are you all right, Daeron? (lit. "Do you feel well, Daeron?")
Daro! Law! – Stop! It is not true!
Gin atho iallon, daro! – Please, I beg you, stop!
Hach - Arse
Tirith-dolan i Eryn Galen – Guardian of the Woodland Realm