Chapter Twenty-One
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SUMMARY: Thranduil has been working in the Woodland Realm, waiting for their guests from Lothlórien to arrive. They bring a gift and some unexpected news.
In the meantime, Turamarth is still keeping a close eye on Bowen, who has not done well since his mother's funeral. He has two friends in mind who might be able to help.
Daeron says goodbye to his family, and begins the adventure of a lifetime.
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"Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow."
― J.M. Barrie, The Little Minister
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The Woodland Realm, 12th of September, 2942, T.A.
Galion knocked on the doorway of their adjoining offices.
"My Lord, Captain Adamar reports that the party from the Golden Wood are here."
"Thank you, Galion." The Elvenking finished the paper he was working on, then got up to go into his chambers to get dressed.
Shorty afterward, the the Elvenking was seated on his high throne, dressed his formal robes, holding his scepter made from a tree that grew in Elu Thingol's kingdom; the sapling had been brought from Thingol's birthplace of Valinor. Thranduil wore his tall, formal crown as well, but the small flowers that had adorned it had been removed and replaced with small greenery.
All members of his Council were present, in their formal robes, and circlets with gems upon their brows. They were seated on cushioned chairs along the one side of the room. As befitting her station, Lady Emëldir's seat was more ornate, and her circlet sported small white gems on her brow. Galion was stationed at the foot of the steps of his throne, ready to assist, as always. He was wearing robes of dark green and his circlet was plain, like the council members.
On the other side of the room, Daeron stood at attention, with his five Elves.
"Are we ready?" the Elvenking asked those present in the room.
"Yes, My Lord," Galion said, and indicated to the Guard to open the doors.
Captain Adamar entered and bowed formally, "Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm," "It is my honor to present Rúmil, son of Halfar, Warden of Lothlórien, and his party."
With helmets in hand, the six Wardens of the Galadhrim marched in single file, and stood before him, and they were an impressive sight, indeed. These Silvan Elves, were all very tall, and blonde. They were dressed in their full armor, which was slightly different than that of the Woodland Realm: golden in color, and the leather was dyed crimson. All the Galadhrim wore cloaks of dark grey, though Rúmil's was lined in the same shade of crimson as his uniform. Two of the others had had been lined in dark blue, and the others, both Ellyths, had linings of purple.
"Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Miui Rúmil Halfarion." Thranduil gave his formal greetings. "Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn"
"De vilui, Aran Thranduil Oropherion." Rúmil bowed, put his hand to his heart, and gave him a formal Elven salute."We are grateful for this opportunity, My Lord. It is a privilege to learn more of this part of Middle Earth and the unique and varied cultures of the Northern Kingdoms."
Thranduil smiled. "I thank you."
"I bring you greetings from the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. May I also present a gift, sent by my Lord to his beloved cousin, to celebrate the occasion of his marriage." Rúmil signaled for one of his Elves to come forward, and took the small chest he was carrying. The Warden handed it to Adamar, who gave it to Galion, who then brought up the steps to him. Inside were two oval clasps, one in gold, and one in silver. The gold, was engraved with the entwined monograms of Bard and Thranduil in Westron, and the silver was done in the same, in Tengwar.
"These are exquisite, Warden. My husband and I will be honored to wear these, and I will be sure to send my thanks with Lieutenant Daeron when he leaves."
The Warden stepped back and swept his arm out: "May I present the rest of my party to your Royal Highness?"
Thranduil stood, gave the box back to Galion, then descended from his throne. "Please, do so."
As the first Elf in line stepped forward, and saluted, Rúmil said, "This is my second-in-command, Gerion, son of Gilfan."
"Dhe nathlof hi, Beriamín Edwen Gareth Gilfanion," Thranduil smiled and nodded, then offered the same personal welcome to the other Elves: The Elves with the blue-lined cloaks were Lórien Warriors: Eriol, son of Auredhir and Lindo, son of Langon. The Ellyths purple were two of Lothlórien's famed Archers: Cwën, daughter of Saeros, and Amaren, daughter of Amandil.
Their guests were introduced to the Council Members, then Daeron and his group stepped forward and saluted, then clasped arms with Rúmil.
"I am Daeron, son of Adamar; Lieutenant and Guardian of the Woodland Realm. I bid you welcome."
"I have heard much about you, Daeron. It is pleasure to meet you."
"As I have you, Rúmil. These are the members of my unit: My second, Lieutenant Elion, son of Gwaldor."
Elion stepped forward, saluted and said, "Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Miui Rúmil."
"Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Edwen Elion." Rúmil clasped his forearm.
As each Guardan stepped forward, Daeron introduced them. "These are the brothers Amrol and Hadien, sons of Bior; and the Woodland Archers were Eilinel, daughter of Indor; and, Amras, son of Ranuin."
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Once the greetings were exchanged, they all went to the Main Dining Hall for the Welcome Feast, in which there was music and dancing.
From their table up on the dais, Thranduil told the Warden, "I look forward to showing my husband the gifts from the Lord and Lady. Your smiths are talented."
"They are, to be sure. I am glad you like them, though I suspect," Rúmil smiled and leaned toward him, "you will find another gift underneath. My Lord Celeborn instructed me to tell you it is a personal and private message, My King."
Thranduil's brows lifted in surprise. "I look forward to reading what my cousin has to say."
"So," the Elvenking changed the subject and refilled Rúmil's cup, "You had no unpleasant encounters on your journey? How long did it take you?"
"Our journey was free from peril. I am grateful, but not too surprised. Between the Battle of the Five Armies, and the White Council's efforts at Dol Guldur last winter, the danger has greatly decreased."
"I am glad to hear it. I am told you had quite a reaction to the state of my forest, Warden."
The Elf looked uncomfortable. "I do not mean to disparage your Kingdom, My Lord –"
"Oh, no, please. I was not trying to confront you; I would like to hear your honest thoughts. The messengers from your land are always diplomatic, of course, but I need to know the perspective from an outsider."
The Warden sat back and sipped. "I actually have a great respect for the parts of the forest you managed to preserve, considering who had taken up residence in Dol Guldur. Unfortunately, no one was aware of that until just last year, My Lord…"
"I understand." Thranduil smiled. "Go on."
Rúmil considered his words. "Until recently, my brother Haldir had been the only one of us to travel outside our borders, but even that was many years after the War of the Last Alliance. He and our father accompanied King Amdir and King Oropher when they went south, and like you, few returned.
"Of that time, my brother would only say that all that time in the presence of the Dark Lord himself, even for just seven years, marked our father forever." Rúmil lowered his eyes. "He was killed shortly after I was born, in a skirmish with some Orcs from Dol Guldur. My mother had to sail, for her sorrow was too great."
"I am sorry, Mellon." Thranduil commiserated. "I remember your father well, Rúmil, and was deeply saddened to hear of his death."
"I thank you," Rúmil bowed and saluted respectfully.
"How is your Lady?"
"She remains weakened, though Eärendil's Blessing did much to heal her."
"That is indeed good news," Thranduil said. "We were witness to that miraculous event, for it was during the funeral services for those who fell in the Battle." Thranduil sighed. "So many had perished…. Yet I cannot help but rejoice, for not only did this Blessing help Lady Galadriel, it help to heal the much of our grief. I hope, besides learning and gaining experience, you find time to enjoy yourself. I find the people of Dale to be delightful." He gave the Warden a knowing smile, "Though I must admit to some partiality."
"May I offer personal congratulations upon your marriage? I am told Lord Bard has three children of his own."
"He does, and I have grown to love them as my own. Tauriel is charged with their safety, but she cherishes them as much as I do, as their sister." The Elvenking changed the subject. "I have met your brother Haldir several times, though not in several centuries. How is he?"
"He is well, though worried for our Lady. We had a very busy winter. After Dol Guldur was cleared, a few remnants from the Battle of the Orcs headed our way, but we exterminated them with little difficulty."
"I am sorry so many got away." Thranduil said, sincerely.
The Warden shrugged. "It was an easy task, My Lord. They were leaderless, desperate and confused. We still see them, but their numbers have been greatly reduced and are easily dealt with – for now, at least."
Thranduil nodded his head. "These are much like the reports from my Guardians. We did have some difficulty when we were returning the mothers and children to Dale in May."
Rúmil's eyes widened. "Was anyone harmed?"
"Just one of my Guardians; a cousin to Daeron. He is now fully recovered." Thranduil then told the Warden of the joint-effort between the Elves and Dwarves to get the children home safely, and the details of the skirmish, as it was related to him. Rúmil was particularly interested in hearing about the cooperation between the Dwarves and Elves.
"You will see for yourself soon. To be frank, I hope you and your Wardens learn as I have since the day of the Battle. It was a turning point for me and my people, and a chance to change things and prepare for what will come."
Then he gave the Warden a solemn look. "Make no mistake, Warden: My heart tells me that Dol Guldur will not remain abandoned and we all must remain vigilant. I have not reduced my Guards around my villages or in that area, and Radagast agrees that the trees must remain sleeping."
"The Lord and Lady say the same. Still," Rúmil raised his goblet, "let us enjoy the short respite while we may."
Once the Wardens were settled and the day was done, the Elvenking went to his chambers.
How many centuries had he lived here alone, and was comfortable? Yet, after only months, it seemed cold and empty without the voices of his family, and these room were now filled with the absence of their presence. Galion had expressed that same sentiment a week ago, as they were eating breakfast, when he said quiet he had once enjoyed he now found nearly unendurable.
And after his bath he crawled into bed and opened the box from Celeborn once more, and lifted them out, along with its velvet lining. As he suspected, there was a false bottom and after some careful maneuvering, he found a letter sealed in silver wax, bearing Celeborn's seal.
He settled back against the pillows, and opened his letter from his cousin, done in his sloping, artistic hand.
After he read a few sentences, he gasped, then dropped the paper and covered his eyes.
"Thranduil (it said),
I will save the formalities for another time, my dearest cousin, as I have news you will be most anxious to hear:
Legolas, accompanied the small band of Dúnedain that came to visit in June, and I am happy to report he looked well and fit…
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City of Dale, 15th of September, 2942 T.A.
Shortly after Anna and Daffyd had moved their now-larger family into their new home, Turamarth had come by to visit.
It was a Saturday, so there was no school, and Maddox was happy to see him. With a grin, the Elf allowed the little boy to pull him around the house and show him everything.
"See? The kitchen is big, and so is the living room! Look!"
"I am impressed, Mad." He squatted down to eye-level. "Do you like school?"
"Uh-huh! Tilda's in my class, just like before! So is Alis and I have a new friend named Liam! He's my best friend now!"
"Oh, really? Was he at the Palace? Did you know him there?"
"Nuh-uh. He and his Da came from Dowinin."
"You mean, Dorwinian?"
"Uh huh. Wanna see my schoolwork?"
So, Mad grabbed Tur by the hand again and dragged him to the room he shared with Bowen, where several drawings and paintings were posted. "I can write my letters, and see? And all the numbers! I can even read a little bit!"
"That is wonderful!" he tousled the boy's hair. "Do you mind if I visit with your brother a little bit?" Turamarth noticed Bowen's bed, though made neatly was empty.
"Sure. I gotta go to Liam's house. He only lives two doors away!" And he was off.
The Elf smiled after him and went to speak with Anna, who was giving Owena a bottle. "How are they?"
"Oh, the little ones adjusted well, of course. Maddie still cries some for his Mam, but school's been a big distraction. He started a bit later – about a week into it – but he's cheered up since he made friends with the boy down the street.
"How is Bowen?"
"Ah. Well, that's another story. He's due to start school on Monday, and I think it's time; it's not good for him to be idle too long. He needs to start getting on with things."
"I agree." The Elf said. "He is ready, whether he believes it or not."
The woman finished the milk, then rubbed Owena's back to get a bit of a burp from her. "Still, I know how he feels - we've all been adjusting. As much as we needed a bigger space, it's still hard to move." She laughed wryly. "Seems all we've done in the last year is move. You'd think I'd be used to it: first from Laketown into tents, then tents to the Palace, the Palace to the Livery then the Livery to here!"
"Hopefully you will be settled for a long time, after this."
"I really shouldn't complain; folks were bending over backwards to help us – I hardly had to do a thing, except hold the baby and tell everyone where things go. They brought everything from Ellyn's apartment, and the children have their beds. Ellyn's old bed is set up in Owena's room for later, though she still stays in a crib in our room."
"Where are the rest of her things?"
"Some of her clothes we gave away, but her nicer things are in a trunk, along with her jewelry, for when the children get older."
Owena grinned up at the Elf and held her arms out, so Turamarth took her in his arms. "She is enchanting." He ran his fingers through her fine blond hair and looked into her blue eyes. "Tell me; how is Bowen?"
"He's trying, but he's so…shut down." Anna's forehead creased with worry.
"Perhaps my plans for today will help."
Daffyd told me all about it. He and his dog went to the Livery this morning." She sighed and shook her head. "I have told you again and again: drop the Mistress, yeah? You're practically family by now!"
Elf laughed, kissed Owena's head and handed her back. "Where is he now?"
"He and Beriel are down at the Livery with the boys. It's a nice day, and I don't want him to sit around here."
"Thank you, Anna."
Turamarth walked the few blocks to the business Daffyd and his son ran. The words "Dale Livery" were painted in neat letters over the large sliding doors, and he could hear the sound of horses rattling around in their large boxes.
"Hey there, Tur!" Powell said, as he finished grooming an immense chestnut mare. The young man was the image of his father, with a pleasant demeanor that resembled his mother. The boy had shoulder-length dark hair, which was tied back at the nape of his neck.
"Good morning, Powell. I am looking for Bowen, and was told he was here."
"He's back yonder with Bothel. 2
"Is he the horse the children say bites?"
"The very one. If he doesn't knock it off, we're going to have to geld him. He's a fine specimen, and I'd hate to do it. I can't hardly believe it, but that bastard's taken a liking to Bowen, though I'm nervous about it." Powell put the mare's foot back on the ground and patted her neck. "There's a good lady…" he turned to the Elf and said.
Tur stroked the mare's nose. "Lord Bard tells me you are living in the apartment above now."
Powell grinned. "I'm mighty pleased, if you must know. Mind you, I didn't mind the children, but I'm grown now, and… well I've started stepping out with one of the baker's daughters, and some day, I want to settle down and start a family. It was time for me to be out on my own."
"Congratulations." The Elf put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I hope it goes well." He glanced toward the back of the barn. "How is the Bowen today?"
"About the same. Bowen likes to sit on a barrel there quiet-like, and it seems to settle them both down. I think they're good for what ails each other, though I don't know what's going on in that horse's head."
"I have made arrangements to take Bowen for the day, unless of course, you need him."
"Go on back, then. Da is out on a call, but he told me to expect you. We haven't said anything."
"Thank you." Turamarth walked down the large midway, and found Bowen in front of the last stall. Bothel, a huge black stallion with a wide stripe on his face, had been put far apart from the other residents of the barn as a precaution, and though Tur couldn't blame Daffyd for doing that, it certainly didn't help the horse's temperament any. Bowen was facing the horse, as he absentmindedly stroked Beriel.
"Gi suilon, Bowen." The Elf said softly, so as not to startle the boy, who seemed lost in thought, as he sat looking off into space, twisting a piece of straw in his hands. "I am told you are highly favored by your dark friend here."
"Aye, I like him." The boy answered. "I'm not allowed to pet him, unless somebody's here."
"I am here; go ahead if you like." Turamarth assured him.
The boy stood up and went to the half-door and slid the barred portion to the side. Bothel quickly stuck his immense head out and neighed loudly. Bowen slowly raised his hand, speaking softly, and lightly began to stroke his nose, but when the horse saw Turamarth, his ears went back, and he backed up.
"Shhh…." The Elf said in soothing tones. "Shhh… Davo annin gi nathad, mellon-lobor nîn…" He held out his palm and waited patiently for the horse to approach. "Sevin dhâf?" he asked politely, and eventually, Bothel approached him again, but cautiously. Eventually the horse allowed the Elf to pet him, as Turamarth began to talk to him in soothing tones. "Man le trasta, Bothel? De vaer?"
He stroked the horses face and looked at him thoughtfully. No, he was perfectly sound... Daffyd and Powell took excellent care of their beasts, and Bothel was no exception.
He put both hands on the horse's head, and closed his eyes. After a few more moments, he began to laugh. He sensed no animosity or pain of any kind. Just a lively and roguish spirit, who liked to cause trouble, though he means no true harm.
"What's so funny?" Bowen had been watching the Elf with Bothel, and was fascinated with the connection between them.
After putting his face close to the big horse, he spoke several sentences in Quenyan, and Bothel neighed in acknowledgement, and even a little alarm.
"He is not hurt, or even angry, Adanneth. Our friend Bothel just likes to make mischief. I have explained that if he remains kind, he will be allowed nearer to all the activity outside, and he will no longer be bored." Tur smirked. "He will also retain certain body parts he may not want to part with."
"That's it?" Bowen eyed him with suspicion.
"Yes. He is young, and has too much energy for his own good. Come."
Bowen followed him back to Powell, who was talking to his father, who had recently returned.
"Hey there, you! So, how'd you like our 'biter?'"
"I like Bothel, though I have convinced him to no longer bite."
The older man raised one eyebrow. "Just like that?"
"To be sure, test him for yourself."
"How?"
Turamarth grinned. "I have also warned him of his impending castration if he does not behave. Bothel is very intelligent, and has more energy than the average work horse. He is easily bored, and does not like being in a box stall by himself. We will often match horses of such a temperament with a pet, such as a goat. I think you will find our dark friend will be happier with a little companionship."
"A goat, you say?"
"Oh yes; they are both social animals and they often have a calming effect. I would also suggest you give him more exercise. Take him to walk in the River, to tire him out."
"I'll see it done." Daffyd agreed. "You two off somewhere?"
"Yes, but we will be back before dinner."
"Sure thing." He gave Turamarth a wink, then tousled Bowen's head. "You go have fun, kid."
"Okay, thanks Daffyd." The boy didn't smile, but his mood lifted. "Bye, Powell."
Elf and boy walked through the streets and enjoyed the fresh air. The sun wasn't shining, the sky was clouded over, but there was no indication of rain. The slightly cooler temperatures felt good, after such a hot summer, and Beriel was feeling lively.
They arrived at the barns near the barracks, and Bowen followed him inside. "Are we going to see Sandastan?"
Sandastan was Turamarth's dun stallion, and his name was Quenyan for a type of battle formation. The Elf had raised him from a foal, and loved his high spirits and cheerful outlook, which mirrored his own, but make no mistake: when on duty, Sandastan was all business, and no one to fool with.
"We are. I asked that he be brought in from the pastures, because I thought we might go for a ride. He has a friend he'd like you to meet."
"What do you mean?"
They reached Sandastan's stall, and Bowen went over to say hello. The boy liked the horse very much, and the feeling was mutual.
Tur went to the stall past his own, and stroked the nose of the mare in the next stall. "Bowen, I would like you to meet Vórima. In Quenyan, her name means, 'Faithful.'"
"She's pretty." Bowen went to the mare and held out his hand for her to sniff. She was a Roan-color with dappled spot of red. "Whose is she?"
"Yours, if you want her."
Bowen was stunned. "Mine?"
"Yes. I have spoken with Daffyd, and he has agreed to let us bring her to the Livery, so she can be nearer to you. She comes from the Woodland Realm, though her ancestors were purchased from Rohan, and she has an excellent lineage."
"Daffyd says I can?"
"Yes."
Vórima had been purchased with Turamarth's own money, along with her saddle and bridle. Lord Thranduil had offered to pay for her, which was generous, but the Guard respectfully declined. He'd written to his father for help, and she had been brought to Dale yesterday.
He was hoping the horse, along with school, would help pull Bowen from his depression, before it became too serious. As it was, Ermon had prescribed Wort to put into his tea to help, plus chamomile and valerian at night.
It was helping some, but Daeron's departure a couple of weeks ago left both of them at loose ends. Turamarth missed his cousin terribly. Maybe he needed this as much as Bowen did.
Bowen threw himself at the Elf and hugged him tight. "Thank you!"
Tur was deeply moved and stroked the boy's hair. He was glad his cousin approached him to help this boy, and by extension his family. "I think we should let you two get acquainted. Shall we?"
Bowen eagerly put her saddle and bridle on, while Turamarth got Sandastan ready. Then Turamarth put some food he had purchased earlier, along with some water skins in his saddle bags, and the two of them went outside through the East Gates of the city.
The Elf and the boy spend the day riding along the outskirts of Hope Field, and enjoying the sights of the valley, with Erebor in the distance. Beriel loved running in the grass and made friends with the huge white dogs guarding the livestock as they grazed.
After they entered the forest, they had left the horses on the ground settled themselves high in a huge maple tree, eating some lunch. Bowen was leaning against the trunk as he straddled a large limb, chewing on his apple. Elf explained the relationship Wood Elves enjoyed with the forest, how they formed friendships with some trees. and he encouraged Bowen to do the same.
"But I can't. I'm not like you."
"A tree cannot understand your words, Bowen, but it can understand your heart."
"What do I say?"
"We Elves often like to spend a day telling our friends what makes them happy or sad or angry." He gave the boy a meaningful look. "I do not see why you could not do the same."
Turamarth finished his bread and cheese, and after offering the water skin to Bowen took a long drink, then packed everything away. He moved closer, put his hand on Bowen's head, and the other against the tree, closed his eyes and said a few words in Quenyan.
"I have introduced you, and Ornë seems to like you. I suggest you begin tell him what is uppermost on your mind, and go from there. I," he grinned, as he slung the bag over his shoulder, "will be on the ground. When you are ready, call for me, and I will help you get down."
With a grace that was natural to him, but astounding to Bowen, he easily swung down and landed on his feet in the grass, then settled himself against one of the roots to relax and share his apples with the horses.
And so, for the next two hours, Turamarth sat against the bottom as Beriel napped with her head in his lap. From above he heard the faint sounds of Bowen's voice as he unburdened himself to a friend who listened better than any Man or Elf could.
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The Woodland Realm, 19th of September, 2942, T.A.
After a week with the Wardens, it was at last time for Daeron's unit to leave for their year in the Golden Wood.
These Elves had spent a great deal of time together this past week and Daeron found them to be a more reserved than the Silvans of the Woodland realm, but respectful with good hearts and an eagerness to serve.
They Warden had sparred with their counterparts just about every day, each teaching the other special techniques or tricks they had learned over the years, and their archery practice turned into an impromptu contest, which many residents of the Palace and nearby villages came to see.
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This morning, King Thranduil held a private breakfast with the Wardens and the Guards out in his private Gardens, and the conversation was relaxed and lively.
Then the twelve Elves gathered at the end of the Royal Wing and led by the King, marched with elegant precision through the Palace to the Main Doors. All the residents of the Palace had lined up along the many walkways to wish them well.
Two caravans were ready: one heading West, with a wagon holding to carry supplies and the Guardian's luggage, and one heading East, ready to go to Dale.
When they went through the doors, Daeron his mother and aunt standing with the other family members, with proud looks on their faces. He went over and embraced them both.
"Be well, my son." Idril said, trying to smile, as she kissed him. "Here is something for your journey." She tucked a packet of snacks into his pocket with an affectionate look. "These are your favorite. Please; be sure to write soon."
"Gi melin, Nana." He murmured, as he took her into his arms and hugged her.
Indis was next. "Take care of yourself, Gwathellion, and you must write to us frequently. I want to hear all about your adventures." She caressed his cheek. "We will miss you."
"And I you, Aunt." Daeron kisses both of her cheeks.
Ómar and Adamar were last. "I am so proud of you, Ion nîn." Adamar whispered, as he embraced his son. "I know you will do your best."
"Gi melin, Ada." Daeron inhaled deeply as he enjoyed his father's embrace. "Thank you for believing in me."
"Always, my son." Adamar kissed his brow. "Never doubt that."
Daeron took a deep breath, and ordered the Guards back in formation, to wait for the King's blessing.
Everyone stood at attention, as Thranduil gave his Guardians a blessing for a safe journey:
"Cuio vae a geilu,
No gelin in raid dhîn, a no adel dhen i chwest ."
Then he closed his eyes and held his palms upward as he offered a prayer to the Valar for a safe journey:
"O, Eru Ilúvitar!
Varda, Queen of the Stars,
Yavanna, Keeper of all that is Green and Growing,
Please keep our people safe as they journey to new lands and new adventures,
And may we all be blessed with deeper understanding between our lands
And all the Free People of Middle Earth."
They all waited quietly, as the Guardians and the Lothlórien escort mounted up. Daeron was at the front with the leader of the escort, and when he gave to order to move out, he turned to see his parents give him encouraging smiles.
Daeron struggled with many feelings in his heart, as he rode away from his home, away from his family, and far, far away from the beautiful young woman and little boy who had so captured his heart.
He prayed earnestly that he might be able to return, but at this point, he honestly didn't know if his goodbye to Rhian was temporary, or forever.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Mae de 'ovannen, Rúmil Halfarion. Dhe a tirith chîn nathlof hi. - Greetings, Rúmil, son of Halfar. You and your guards are welcome here.
Ni veren an dhe ngovaned; êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn – I am happy to meet you; a star shines on the hour of our meeting.
Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Miui Rúmil – Well met, Rúmil, Captain of the Galadhrim (formal)
Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Edwen Elion– Well met, Elion, 2nd Lieutenant of the Guardians (formal)
Shhh… Davo annin gi nathad, mellon-lobor nîn... – Shhh… Let me help you, my horse-friend…
Sevin dhâf? – May I?
Man le trasta, Bothel? – What troubles you, Bothel?
De vaer? – Do you feel well?
Ni cheniog? – Do you understand me?
Addaneth – Young man
Gi melin, Nana – I love you, Mom
Cuio vae a geilu – Farewell and blessings
No gelin in raid dhîn, a no adel dhen i chwest – May your paths be green and the wind behind you.
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NOTES:
[1] Rúmil was not privy to what he and only a handful of people in Middle Earth knew: The Golden Wood has only remained beautiful and untouched because his Lady possessed something of immense power, as did Lord Elrond and Mithrandir.
As much good as it could be for his own Kingdom, Thranduil never desired to possess such a thing, for he also knew the heavy price one paid to own such a trinket. Since learning of those things just after he became King after the Battle of Dagorlad, not one utterance of this knowledge passed Thranduil's lips, and he never told Bard the story of how he learned of these Rings of Power, until after Sauron was defeated and the Fourth Age began.
[2] Bothel – Welsh for "Blister, Pain, Nuisance."