Chapter Fifty-Seven
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SUMMARY: Gandalf pays the Kings a visit and brings them some news that will change a lot of things in Middle Earth—and beyond...
As their time in the Woodland Realm draws to a close, the citizens of Dale celebrate with a Feast, to say goodbye to their new friends, then...
AT LAST! FINALLY! The big day arrives, and the children of Dale (and their Mams) begin the long trip home!
Unfortunately there are some Orcs who would love to stop them...
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The Elvenking leaned forward anxiously. "You know what what it all means?"
"That is why I am here." Gandalf nodded. "I ask you to recall the night we all met in your tent, and presented your choices, if you married. Bard chose to become Immortal and change his fate to be with you, Thranduil. He was given that special grace, and he will be permitted to go to Valinor." 1
"I remember." Bard nodded. "Thranduil could have also chosen to give his life up, to grow old with me."
"That was also an exception. Under normal circumstances, Thranduil could not be with you in the afterlife. He would go to the Halls of Mandos, or fade to nothingness here, and remain a spirit. Eru Ilúvatar was always very specific about where Men go in the Afterlife, so the Elves would not be permitted to even join their spouses there, once their life was done. They would enjoy several decades of happiness, then they would be forever sundered."
"How sad," the Bowman said.
"This is why marriages between Elves and Men are rare and discouraged. The stories all say that whenever an Elf marries one of the race of Men, disaster follows and their lives end in sorrow. It was part of the curse of such relationships."
"This is true." Thranduil nodded his agreement. A short time ago, I did quite a bit of research on that subject, after one of my Guards became enamored with a woman from Dale."
Gandalf looked at the Elvenking thoughtfully. "Did you find any encouraging answers?"
"Not really. There were a few: Mithrellas and Imrazór, 2seemed to be the best example, but since she disappeared, there is no way to know what might have been. Many speculate that Imrazór forced her to marry him, but I do not believe that to be true. I sent a message to the Prince of Dol Amroth, asking for his insights, but have yet to receive a response."
"I doubt Angelimir would be of help," 3 Gandalf said. "Most Men subscribe to the theory of cruelty, and I have tried to dissuade them, to no avail."
"It's a physical impossibility." Thranduil agreed. "But one cannot really blame Men for not understanding. For too long Elves have been uninvolved with the world of Men." He made a wry face. "Including myself."
Bard smiled at his husband. "You are involved now, and that's all that counts. But why would it be impossible?"
"An Elf can never marry, unless it is for love, or at least mutual affection." Gandalf answered. "Otherwise he or she would fade from the grief of their joining."
"Exactly." The Elvenking affirmed. "Prince Angelimir of Dol Amroth is a good and wise man, but he understands little of Elves. I am convinced that Mithrellas went out into the night simply because she was a Silvan Elf and was killed by Orcs."
"I agreed."
Bard was confused. "But what does being a Silvan Elf have to do with it?"
Thranduil answered his husband. "Do you remember when I told you that Silvan Elves are so highly connected with the trees and such? Many Silvans never feel the longing to sail to Valinor, because they love the forests so much, and want to nurture them. They revere the Vala Yavanna even more than they do Elbereth, Queen of the Stars."
And Yavanna is…?" 4
"She sung the trees into being, as well as all things green. If you remember, she is married to Aulë, 5or Mahal, as the Dwarves call him, and he, too is very connected with the earth."
"So, one could say," Bard tilted his head, "Yavanna works on things above ground, while Aulë is interested in thing below it."
"That is a bit simplistic, to be sure, but you are correct." Gandalf answered. "I am convinced, as I am sure Thranduil is, that Mithrellas simply went out to be among the trees, and strengthen her spirit. She would know the songs the nearby trees sing and a Silvan needs to hear them."
"Tauriel talks about hearing the trees near Dale. She has made friends with many of them."
Thranduil smiled proudly. "She has indeed."
"Where do Silvans live then? All over Middle Earth?"
"Silvans mostly live in my Kingdom, or in Lothlórien, these days. They are not unwelcome in Valinor, as many sail out of grief from losing their loves ones in battle, or marry another race of Elf who has the Sea-longing."
Gandalf cleared his throat. "This Elven history is relevant in light of the news I was sent to bring."
"How so?"
"Since the Dark Lord has been banished to Mordor, your forest has become healthier, and will be so for many years. Radagast has been almost frantically busy waking up trees that have long slept from sickness."
"That's right," Bard remembered, "you said Radagast put them to sleep, so your people would not be overwhelmed to hear so many suffer."
"He did, and I am very grateful." Thranduil smiled widely. "My people will be happy to hear them wake up and sing again."
Gandalf smiled. "You will also be pleased to know your people will be able to bear children once more, and soon your Kingdom will be filled with their laughter."
"This truly is wonderful news!" Thranduil clasped his hands together with joy.
"There is more, my friend. Those among your Elves who have lost spouses, but cannot bring themselves to leave their forests, will find their bonds severed, much like yours was, and they can fall in love and marry again. They will hold affection for their husbands or wives always, but do not have to sacrifice their close bond with the trees, to feel whole again."
"So… There will be no danger from grief? No fading?" Thranduil asked hopefully.
"No. The Valar unanimously agreed and presented their case to Eru, arguing that to be forever bonded and destined to spend an eternity in pain, was unnecessarily cruel." Gandalf laughed and winked mischievously at Thranduil. "You'll never guess who brought this petition before King Manwë, 6and demanded these changes."
"She did?" Thranduil grinned proudly. "It was Mírelen?"
"It was indeed. She was very persuasive."
"I can't wait to meet this woman!" Bard slapped his knee and laughed. "You must have had your hands full, when she was alive, love."
Thranduil grinned and shook his head. "I did. Mithrandir, you must tell me exactly how this will come about – our people will have questions."
Gandalf pulled a sealed envelope out of his pocket. "It's written in detail here, but Eärendil's Blessing doesn't end with that, thanks also to your former wife! You should also know that your Elves are now permitted to join those from other races, without eventual heartache, and they will be as bonded with them, as they would be with another Elf."
"Their fëas will be one; like ours?" Bard asked.
"To a lesser degree, but yes."
"But what?"
"Thranduil, Valar have heard your prayers and petitions defending the courage of your people. They agree that those who guard your lands every day have no less courage than you, or Bard, or Glorfindel, when he killed the Balrog. They put their lives on the line every day, and that is no small feat."
"No it's not," Bard commented.
But Gandalf clarified, "There will still be special rewards for those willing confront such pure evil. Those… encounters leave painful scars," he looked at them meaningfully, "and not only physical ones, as I am sure you both know."
Bard sighed and took Thranduil's hand, "We do. I doubt the nightmares will ever stop completely."
"And sadly, Bain suffers, too." Thranduil agreed, "You say Elves can marry outside their race, but what are the consequences? There has to be some profound changes that take place."
There are indeed, my friend, and each couple must be fully aware of them and consider very carefully."
"And those consequences would be…?" Asked Bard eagerly.
"When an Elf marries one of another race, they will join as Elves and their fëas will also…"
"Oooh! So, they'll enjoy the 'Elf Thing,' too?" Bard asked, gleefully
"I still can't believe you call it that." Gandalf rolled his eyes. "But fine; for the sake of clarity, we'll go with it... Anyway, the couple will join fëas, and in doing so, each give the some of the gifts of their race to the 'Other.'"
"How so?"
"For example, in a marriage between an Elf and a Human woman, the Elf will lose his Immortality, because he will "gift" some of his years her, giving them both a long lifespan, free of illness or disease. In turn, the 'Other' will share her ultimate fate with the Elf and will be permitted to be with his loved one in the afterlife, they will never be sundered!" Gandalf was grinning.
Both Kings pondered this for a few moments. "If this is all true, it would be…wonderful." Bard said. "Could these couples bear children? And what would happen to them?"
"Yes. Their lives as Half-Elven will long, as their parents, but they would be Mortal, and they will go and join their parents at death."
"And this is true for Elves who marry all other races?" Bard asked.
"It does, although for the most part Elves would grow to love those from the race of Men, and will follow. Those who would join with, say, a Dwarf, will follow his or her spouse to their Halls.
Thranduil took a few minutes to digest all of this. "So, Tauriel was able to fall in love with Kili, because of this... 'Change?'"
"Indeed. She was the very first. Their story had a sad ending, which Valar could not prevent, and though she mourns him, she is in no danger of fading from grief, as they never married. Tauriel will live on and, eventually, love again."
"So I have been told by Mírelen. Tauriel will marry and have at least one daughter." The Elvenking smiled. "But I am choosing to keep that foreknowledge a secret, and I ask that you do as well. Things like this should happen naturally, in their own time."
"They should," Gandalf agreed, and stood up to leave, "I have another message to deliver, then I must be on my way to Erebor." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another letter. "This is from the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, and I think you'll find it interesting."
Thranduil took it, broke the seal and read it, then handed it to Bard.
After Bard looked it over, he agreed. "This is a good idea."
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The Woodland Realm, 25th of May 2942, T.A.
Before the first caravan full of the single and childless women left for Dale, a lively "Farewell Feast" was held so the Elves could to say goodbye to their guests, many of which had become good friends.
At the head table, Hilda stood up and made a heartfelt speech, thanking the Elves for their hospitality and the excellent care they received. She also said Dale will always be grateful for the education and training they received due to their generosity. Well, she tried to say it, but had to stop, because she began to cry, and buried her nose in her handkerchief.
The silence didn't last long though. To everyone's surprise (especially from his sisters), Bain stood up straight and, as Crown Prince, finished her speech and added his own thanks, on behalf of the King. The young man received a standing ovation (especially from his sisters, also), and many commented on the boy's regal countenance, and his resemblance to his father. Hilda just kept her face in her kerchief and cried harder.
But the best surprise for the Royal Family of Dale, Rhian attended the Feast! While she shied away from the dancing, she looked relaxed as she sat in a corner with Indis and Idril, bouncing Darryn in her lap. She looked lovely in her green dress which accentuated the color of her eyes, her hair was thick and shiny and full of natural curls, and best of all, her smile was wide and genuine.
At long last, it was time to return! As much the mothers and children were excited to go home, many tears were shed as they bid goodbye to their Elvish friends. One by one, as each wagon entered the Main Doors to await their passengers, there were plenty of well-wishes, hugs, and promises to write from each Race.
Finally, finally the caravan with its large Elven escort were on the road. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the temperatures were mild, but not hot, so they had left the covers off, but installed higher panels on the sides of each wagon to shield the little ones from any wind, as they slowly made their way.
As with their trip five months ago, the children were not encouraged to be loud, but it was felt that there was enough protection that they could sing softly if it would keep them occupied. A member of the Elven Army was assigned to sit in each cart to offer protection and keep the the children calm, and if they became too anxious or antsy, be put in a peaceful sleep, to protect them (and their mothers' patience).
Daeron rode beside the lead wagon, where the Royal family was. Galion and Rhian were with them, but Hilda decided to ride in the third wagon and assisting with the elderly. Hannah was sitting with an expectant mother who was heavily pregnant, but that was just a precaution. No one expected any excitement as they had when Rhian went into labor with baby Darryn.
Sigrid, and Galion were watching Tilda closely, but the little girl was in excellent spirits and felt good, and Esta was faithfully by her side. Darryn enjoyed the rocking motion of the carriage, and was soon asleep, while Bain and Rhys played cards.
They had stopped briefly at two of the four "stations" manned by the Dwarves, so the children could use the privy tents, and listen to reports given by the hidden Guardians, and to listen to the trees. The news was excellent – no hostile activity was observed. They also delivered some of the "care packages," sent from the Elven kitchens: meat, cheese and sweetbreads, as a gesture of thanks to the Dwarves for their help. These were unexpected and with much gratitude, although the Dwarves were very happy to help keep these "wee bairns" free from harm.
"Boe ammen mened!" Came the call from Commander Feren, who was leading the expedition in King Thranduil's stead, and soon they were on the road again.
At the third station, the children smiled and waved eagerly to their protectors. By this time almost all of the children needed to get out and stretch their cramped legs, as well as visit the privy, so this stop was expected to be longer. The older children, along with the mothers, helped the children go the boys' and girls' temporary privy tents to take care of their business, then spend a few minutes running around, while they waited for the others.
Suddenly, Feren raised his hand and yelled, "SILENCE! DÍNINO! SILENCE!"
The adults of all three races quickly shushed the children, so the Elves could listen carefully. After a few minutes, Feren called out in Sindarin, "A large band of Orcs and Wargs - three miles north!"
The Elves instantly were alerted and sprang into action. The Elves on foot ran to the privy tents to hurry them along, and to calmly round up the children at play.
Daeron raced his horse over to the Dwarves and told Bofur, in a low voice, "There are Orcs coming at us on Wargs several miles to the North, Mellon nîn, and we need to head them off before they get to the children. Speak in Khuzdul - do not frighten the children - and order each of your men to line up over there, and be ready to ride behind an Elf on horseback. When we get there, kill the Warg's first; we cannot let even one to get away! Then we'll release the dogs, and we'll all finish them off together!"
"Aye!" And Bofur quickly turned, and ordered his men to be ready.
By now, the mothers were aware of the situation, and began to run with their children to the wagons. Daeron looked frantically around and was relieved to find all the Bardlings in the first cart, with Esta was draped across Tilda's lap, to keep her down. Galion was also there, and Sigrid was holding baby Darryn.
"Where is Rhian?" He asked Sigrid, as he got down from his horse, "Do you see her?" His heart threatened to stop altogether from worry.
"I don't know!" the girl told him.
Did she wander off into the woods? No; she wouldn't leave her baby...
Daeron took off at a run, dodging around those busy lifting passengers into the carts, and with a sigh of relief, he finally caught sight of her.
Poor Seren had her hands full of two squirmy boys, who loudly protested having to cut their playtime short, and had to be dragged over to the second-to-last cart. Rhian was helping her and holding two-month-old Liliwen in her arms. By the time he reached her, an Elf had gotten the mother and children were settled, so Daeron grabbed her hand and began to hurry her toward the front of the line.
"What happened, Daeron? All they would say was to hurry to the Wagons!"
He stopped and put his hands on her upper arms. "There is a band of Orcs North of here, and we must go and stop them. As soon as the wagons are loaded, the drivers will get you out of here with all speed."
"Can't you stay with us?" Her green eyes widened at him.
"Captain Dior is riding with you," Daeron assured her, quickly, "He will make sure you and are kept safe. Help the children follow his orders without hesitation—"
"But what if something happens to you?"
"Rhian, listen to me," he looked at her intensely. "You must brave, now. The children will be frightened, and I need you to help keep them calm, especially Tilda. I am counting on you to not let on how serious this is. Can you do this? For me? I will catch up with you when we are finished."
"Do you promise?"
"I will never, ever let anything happen to you, or to Darryn." His grip on her arms tightened. "You can do this for the children, can you not? If Tilda gets upset, encourage her to pet Esta, and help Sigrid and the boys. Distract them, and do not let on how frightened you are."
"I can't." Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. "I can't, Daeron. Don't -"
"Yes, you can, Meleth Nîn. Rhian, you have much courage, and I know you can do this." He gave her an encouraging smile. "Do you believe me?"
"I'll do my best," she swallowed her fear. "Just be careful and come back to us in one piece."
Daeron kissed her brow. "Come now; there is no time to lose!" He grabbed her hand again and pulled her toward the front carriage, then lifted her up to Dior. She lingered over the back board and stared at him, as her eyes filled again from uncertainty.
"You can be brave for me, yes?" he asked her, with an encouraging smile. "Yes?"
Rhian took a deep breath, and despite her tears, gave him a determined nod.
"Gi meriathon, Rhian nîn." He whispered, as he touched her cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb, then tore himself away to mount his horse. He did a quick ride up and down the convoy, and made sure all the passengers were settled in. From beside the last cart, Daeron whistled loudly to get Feren's attention, then waved his arm in circles over his head, then pointed to Dale. "Sevif chûr! Drego! Ego! Ego!"
Feren nodded to the Lieutenant, "No dirweg!" the Commander called to him, then turned to signal to the drivers to get wagons moving. "Tîr Dale athof rôcham! Avof dharo!" the Commander shouted, and they were off.
Daeron wasted no time galloping over to the waiting Dwarves, who were lined up, then pulled up behind an Elf in the saddle, one by one. Daeron brought up the rear, and reached down and grabbed Bofur's arm, who landed behind him with a thump and groan.
"Ooof!" the Dwarf yelped. "Easy on the family jewels, there!"
"My apologies, Master Bofur! Hang on, tight!" Daeron spurred Aegis into a run.
"You just worry about getting' me there!" Bofur told him, cheerfully. "Haven't killed an Orc in months! This'll be fun!"
Despite himself, Daeron laughed. In the increasing distance, he heard collective lurch of wagons as they picked up speed and left the area at with the horses running.
He sent up a quick prayer to the Valor for their safety and a silent plea to Commander Feren: Please! Get them away from here! Please, please; keep her safe!
The moment was so raw and urgent and heartfelt, Daeron wasn't aware he'd used words words of love with her.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Boe ammen mened! – We must go!
Nae, gorgor! – Oh, no! (lit. Alas, horrors!)
Meno! Meno! - Hurry! Hurry!
Hind Calen – "Green-eyes" (Daeron's personal pet name for Rhian)
Gi meriathon, Rhian nîn – I will protect you, my Rhian
Sevif chûr! Drego! Ego! Ego! – We are ready! Flee! Go! Go!
No dirweg! – Be careful!
Tîr Dale athof rôcham! Avof Dharo! – We will ride straight to Dale! We will not stop!
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NOTES:
***See Chapter 28 of And Winter Came...
1 What Makes a King, Ch. 14: /works/10838010/chapters/25337991
2 wiki/Mithrellas
3 wiki/Angelimir
4 wiki/Yavanna
5 wiki/Aul
6 wiki/Manwe