Revision uploaded November 2022

SONGS:

May It Be – Written by Enya, Roma Ryan, Nicky Ryan, and Howard Shore -performance likened to that of Lisa Kelly.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel (Passing of the Elves) – Written by Tolkien and Howard Shore

Dramatis Personæ

Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion

Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain

Baradon/Sculls – Male, Ranger

Camaenor – Male, Master at Arms

Cordoves – Female, Ranger

Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal

Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master

Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores

Gueniel – Female, Midwife

Laeron/Wren – Male, Ranger

Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables

Mereniel/Swan – Female, Ranger

Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping

Nestdôl – Male, Master of Healing

Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen

Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male

Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command

It had been one month since Legolas arrived at Carthal Manor, the last great stronghold of the Dúnedain in the far north.

Upon announcing his plans to leave the wild and visit his father in the east, his great friend, Aragorn son of Arathorn, had asked him to re-join him here, to the high north of the old Arnor kingdom.

There he would find a large community of Dúnedain, who for the past three thousand years continued to maintain vigilance over the northernmost mountains. Trouble brewed there and had been since the rising of the black Númenóreans and their leader, the Witchking of Angmar.

Though the Witchking was driven off in defeat so long ago, his lands to this day remained a haven for all creatures of darkness.

Unlike the rangers who inhabited the wild lands to the immediate south, the Dúnedain of Carthal Manor numbered in the hundreds, working collectively for the benefit of the community. Farming, hunting, and constant orc patrols were the life in a land of constant danger and unforgivable winters.

Yet the Dúnedain remained in solid numbers, the pride of Númenor beating strong in their hearts.

Legolas wasn't ignorant of what the Dúnedain accomplished here in the north, for his father's kingdom sustained an alliance with them; supplies were traded for intelligence and fortitude. The Elf-King did not risk a rise of darkness in the north which would force him to confront enemies on more than the two sides he already fought.

It was a mutually beneficial agreement and many of the Dúnedain expressed a great admiration for his father.

Though none amongst the Dúnedain knew he was his father. None but Aragorn knew Legolas's true name.

Here they called him Sindar, for that was as much as they knew of him; he was a Sinda warrior and commander, friend to Strider, come from Mirkwood to offer the Dúnedain his bow.

The name of Legolas did not enter these lands. It never would.

The night was coming fast as a company rode at a rapid pace along the road towards their destination, Carthal Manor. The rangers were anxious to return. Tonight, there was to be a great festivity for this day marked the start of the weeklong celebration of 'the summer that was and the fortification for the winter to come', or more plainly, the Festival of Summer.

All Dúnedain in the area, except for those on watch of course, would meet in the great hall to feast, make merry and enjoy bounties summer wrought.

As Aragorn explained, these gatherings fortified the communal bonds in face of the coming winter. And thus, this community had survived all these long years, together.

Their horses galloped swiftly over the last crest, and beyond the lights of the great house came into view. It stood three houses high, one wing looking southeast towards Gondor, and the second wing pointing out towards the southwest, towards the Númenor city of old, Fornost. If Legolas were a bird, he would see the manor also created the shape of an arrowhead, aimed directly into the heart of Angmar.

Surrounding the manor ground was a great stone wall, twenty feet tall and nine foot wide; it served as barrier to ward off an enemy force. At the road, the horses ran under the arch to pull up leisurely for the last quarter league to the house's main entrance.

Once there, Legolas, Aragorn and the rangers dismounted and strode up the stone stairs and into the house, leaving the care of the horses to novice rangers and elder children who were unfortunate to have duty that night.

The house was abuzz with the happy noise of hundreds of Dúnedain and the welcome smells of food.

"Sindar," Aragorn's voice came from beside him, holding a mug of ale for him. "I am sorry melloneg," he apologised, "the wine I promised hasn't arrived."

Legolas forced a tight-lipped smile, taking the mug. "Never mind. I will try to acquire the taste."

Aragorn scoffed, "Sixty years isn't time enough to acquire the taste?"

"Strider!" A voice Legolas easily recognised called out to them and the man walked over to them. He held up his mug to him in salute, "Sindar."

Legolas gave a nod in greeting to the man, Úrion, a very proficient warrior and hunter, but also second in command of the Carthal rangers.

Aragorn held up his mug and asked, "Bear, how faired the hunt today?"

"The women will be busy tomorrow." Úrion, known as 'Bear', grinned proudly. "What of your group?"

"We discovered two-day old tracks coming out of the woods of Nîr valley on the East Road," Legolas told him.

Úrion frowned, "Leading to where?"

Aragorn answered after swallowing another sip of ale, "Nowhere. The tracks circled around then retreated back into the forest."

"I followed the tracks for a few leagues," Legolas shook his head, "Same as so many times before."

"The tracks once again ended upon the river?" Úrion asked him.

Aragorn breathed in deeply, "We know they are taunting us but to what end?"

Legolas took an unconscious sip from his mug, then recoiled with a scowl, "These orcs and their subdued tactics. It is not natural for them, but they are learning."

His two friends nodded in agreement, then Úrion grinned, "The women might have a few bottles fruit cordials hidden away somewhere for the children."

"Ease up, Úrion," Aragorn put a hand on Legolas's shoulder, stopping Legolas's retort in his throat, "A few more years and Sindar will be singing bright songs about the wonders of ale."

Legolas scoffed, removing Aragorn's hand from his shoulder, "I already wonder about ale and the hold it has over mortal stomachs. A dark enchantment if ever I saw one."

Both Úrion and Aragorn chuckled, and Legolas could not help but join in with a light smile, "Never I believed the day cometh where I would long for the simple comfort of a glass of my father's wine."

His words sparked a curiosity in Úrion, "You father is a crafter of wine?"

Aragorn looked away with a smile and Legolas fought his own grin, "Although my father is a great authority on wine, he is not the laborious type to craft anything himself."

Úrion seemed satisfied and cupped his mug with affection, "Can't say I'd prefer wine. Ale is the drink of stout men and spirited women."

"For which I am grateful to be neither," Legolas said proudly but not without a smile.

"Perhaps you elven-folk should partake of ale more often; you'd might find yourselves more jovial folk-"

Úrion stopped speaking upon seeing another group of rangers flooding into the great hall, which was vastly becoming very crowded. Soon there would be standing room only.

"I should go discover how well Faron's hunting party did today," Aragorn excused himself before threading his way through the crowd to the newcomers.

"What equates to successful day?"

Úrion shrugged, swallowing another large gulp of ale, "A wagon full."

He blinked in surprise, "A wagon full?"

"That's it," Úrion nodded. "For this week alone, we will hunt exhaustively with many folk in the area taking part, either in the hunting parties or the butchering and preserving. After this week, however, most will return to their homes. Here at Carthal, with so many mouths to feed, we'll continue to send out small groups of hunters until winter forces us to stop. If we do not stock up enough for the long winter, our bellies will be empty before spring brings back the sun."

"You do not hunt over winter?"

Úrion snorted, "Maybe a rabbit or two. Anything else is too dangerous." The man finished his mug with another large gulp and belched quietly, "I'm going for another. I'd offer you a refill, Sindar, but . . ." he trailed off with a smirk looking at Legolas's full mug.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you are still able walk and cart ale at the same time?"

Úrion barked a laugh, "If you ever drank more than a thimble full, we'd see whose tolerance is greater!"

A knowing look spread over his fine features, "Perhaps you would like to test your tolerance against my father's wine?"

Úrion jestingly clubbed him on the shoulder, "You got yourself a wager. Next time you see your father, bring a whole barrel! Nay, bring two so there's some for you."

Legolas watched the large man walk away towards the other side of the hall in search of more ale and smirked. Next time he would. He was not one to shirk from a challenge.

Sipping more of the ale with an effort not to grimace, he looked about him. Hundreds of Dúnedain crammed into the great hall, all speaking loudly to be heard over all the others speaking loudly to be heard. Laughter rang true, plus the added crack and rumbling of a thunderstorm rolling in from the northwest.

Skimming over the crowd, he tried to locate Aragorn or even Úrion for it did seem a gloomy state to be standing alone surrounded by so much merriment. He could attempt to find a conversation to join.

Humbled to admit it, he knew very few of them by name.

His eyes continued to wander, searching for familiar heads amongst hundreds and that was how he saw her.

It was unmistakably her. When he said farewell, he believed he would never see her again.

Moving gracefully amongst the Dúnedain, there she appeared, greeting each with bright smiles. The heat of the crowded room made her cheeks and skin glow.

Instead of loose, tonight her dark hair was braided into elaborate pattern around her head. She wore a dress of finer make than the drab he'd previously seen.

She moved towards the other end of the hall and Legolas vowed to maintain that distance. It would have been better to never see her again.

"You are staring, Sindar."

Legolas broke from his surveillance and looked to his friend. Aragorn's smirk was irritating. "Who is she?"

Aragorn's smirk broadened, "Would you like me to introduce you?"

Legolas' eyes narrowed. Aragorn and his games. "I already know her."

"Then why do you ask who she is?"

"I met her a month ago, at a farm along the road. Outside a small cottage amongst apple trees and backing against forest," he told him. "She was the one who invited me to wait here for your return."

"Ah," Aragorn nodded, "Well, melloneg, she is Eryndes of the Dúnedain. The manor and lands belong to her; you are her guest."

He frowned, his eyes flicking back over to the woman before returning Aragorn in question, "She told me she was no lady."

Aragorn gave a short laugh, "That is true."

"Must you prevaricate?"

Aragorn shrugged and took a draft of ale from his mug before answering, "Carthal Manor was so named for Carthal, a commoner who distinguished himself highly at the battle of Dagorlad,"

"She is his descendent?"

"Yes," the twisted bangs of his hair swayed as he nodded "After the war, Isildur gifted him land here on the provision he would watch Angmar from the east. Isildur also promised Carthal a lordship but died before bestowing it."

Aragorn shook his head, "After that, no lordships were given to those in the north. With Isildur's death Carthal gathered a considerable number of the Dúnedain and gave them all an equal piece of his land, honoured-bound to Carthal's oath to watch Angmar. The Dúnedain built the house and grounds for Carthal in their gratitude." He gestured in the direction of the woman, "Carthal of the Dúnedain was the honorific given to him by the Dúnedain."

Legolas shook his head, "Sounds like the usual disarray of men." He was unfazed by the glare his friend levelled at him for his racial slur, "So why does she live in a small cottage, instead of in this great house?"

"She spends time away every summer making medicines and convalesce after the toils of running Carthal," he stopped and nodded to the new figure threading her way through the crowd to them. "Hello Sali. Where is the feast? My rangers are hungry."

An old woman, frail and tiny, scowled at Aragorn, "The feast would be ready by now, Aragorn, if your slack ugly lieutenant arrived on time."

"Faron brought back eight head of deer, so don't blame him," Aragorn admonished with a laugh, "Perhaps we would not be still waiting if would stop drinking all the ale and get back to it. We are hungry!"

The old woman scorned, "Yes, yes, you just stand there drinking while the women do all the work."

"Food, now," Aragorn jeered at her, laughing he pulled her in for a good-natured embrace, "Go, old woman, before I eat you for dinner!"

Shaking her head, she removed herself from Aragorn's embrace muttering an obscenity under her breath. Spotting Legolas she paused to wink at him before leaving them for the direction of the kitchen.

Legolas ignored the woman and her wink.

Aragorn nudged him, "She is the oldest amongst us, one hundred and ninety-three years strong and obviously still prefers older men."

"I am not a man."

"I don't think Sali would mind. If you fancy, I could ask her to watch the stars with you?"

Legolas faced him squarely. "They better feed you soon, Aragorn, or I will be picking you off the ground. Again."

The ranger's laugh stopped short, his upper lip curling, "That happened but once-"

"Five times."

"Trust you to remember," Aragorn growled without true fire.

"Aragorn?" The call of a recognisable feminine voice stopped Legolas' retaliation. He might've escaped, slinked off to find Úrion.

Considering doing so was akin to cowardice, Legolas remained where he stood.

With a broad smile, Aragorn swung his arms around the woman for an overly affectionate embrace.

Legolas watched, his eyes narrowing at Aragorn.

"Where have you been hiding?"

Aragorn held the woman tightly for another few seconds before setting her back on her feet, "Right here, Eryndes. I have not moved. And you, hiding out in your mother's shack?"

"I have been doing my duty. Come. We are ready for you now if you would like to begin?"

"Sali gave the impression it would be some time?"

"Sali started on the ale early and cannot be reliable tonight. Mydedis is pulling her hair out and Foruyndes walked out in a huff," the woman huffed. "So, if you would like to begin? I would like get the food out before there is a mutiny."

"Yes," Aragorn agreed, yet held fast to her hand and tugged her around into Legolas' view. "Before that Eryndes, I believe you have already met my dearest friend, Sindar?"

The woman's eyes followed his gesture and smiled upon recognising him. She bowed her head, "Good evening, my lord. I see you found your way."

"Indeed."

The woman's smile flicked, "It is nice to see you again and I hope you feel welcome here. We do not have much but what we have is yours."

He watched her with a critical eye and answered, "Thank you."

A frown threatened and she looked away from him gestured to the crowd with her awkward smile, "Well, I- Please excuse me; I have hundreds of mouths to feed. Aragorn?"

"I'll be along," Aragorn planted a kiss to her cheek, and she left.

Each of her departing steps eased his tense muscles, whilst he glowered at Aragorn. "You kiss all the women here?"

"You have a lot to learn about women. You should not have been so rude."

"I was rude? What of you? You play these same games for years," Legolas murmured, "do you expect me to play along forever?"

At once Aragorn's face hardened, his feet stepping further apart, "There is no game here. And no, I do not kiss every woman. Eryndes is my kin, my sister. She is to be respected as such and certainly not an object of any game."

"It is you who insists on these games." He soured, "And you have no sisters."

"No, not by birth. She is sister by honour, as you are my brother. I swore her sister when her family died."

A little of the fire eased from his temper. It was plausible. "Why have you never mentioned this sister in all the years of our acquaintance?"

Aragorn went to explain-

"Silence!" A loud man shouted, "Quiet! Silence!"

Talking grew less and less until the hall was quiet.

"Good evening, Dúnedain." Legolas searched the crowd and found the woman, Eryndes, standing on a stack of wooden boxes, looking around at the crowd. "It is an immense joy to see everyone here tonight. I welcome all to takes their fill, as always however, Aragorn warns any food wasted through whatever means will suffer his wrath," she looked to Aragorn, "What is your punishment of choice this year?"

Aragorn called out loudly, "Let all be forewarned, the punishment for food wastage is to spend the whole week washing dishes and mucking stables."

The crowd of Dúnedain laughed.

"And which song will you favour us with tonight?" Aragorn called to her across the hall, cutting across the laughter.

Legolas watched her surprised. She wouldn't sing the song he'd heard that day, would she? He would escape outside if she did.

"As always, the choice falls to you. What would you have of me?"

"There could be only one."

"As you wish."

"Dúnedain! Let the feast of summer begin!" Aragorn hollered.

Legolas still maintained his watch of the woman, but addressed Aragorn, "She will not sing now?"

"Once everyone has eaten enough food," Aragorn informed him. "It is a tradition now to open the week with a song from the mistress of the house."

"As is the chieftain's privilege to select the song?"

"Of course. When I'm here, which is rare to say the least. Eryndes will sing first, then the others will take their turns. You'll enjoy the performances."

Legolas went to sip his drink, then scowled at the ale, "I have never shared your enthusiasm for music."

"Very well, my friend," he said cannily. "Though I am sure she would be happy to perform an elvish song for you." He continued in all seriousness, "She does know quite a few."

Eryndes disappeared through the doors into the kitchen, and he looked to Aragorn, "Thank you but unnecessary."

"Do not be so concerned, I will keep your staring in confidence."

"My staring? Did you not just declare her off-limits to your games?" He frowned and looked closely at the ranger, "Or is it simply that you have had too much ale."

"Not by half."

"Perhaps then you are unwell?" Legolas growled at him in a low voice. "Did you not just call her sister?"

Aragorn held up his hands, "I apologise; you were not staring just now. Like you weren't before."

"You have yet to answer my question."

With a shake of his head, Aragorn sighed. "Not tonight. May we speak of it tomorrow?"

Although disinclined, Legolas looked around them, at the crowds of laughing folk. "Very well."

A general voice of appreciation and awe rose through the great hall as at least three dozen woman and another dozen older children walked out of the kitchen carrying huge trays of different foods and dishes, so big each tray required two to carry. The crowd parted way and allowed the procession of food make their way down the long table.

People began taking food on to wooden plates, stacked high in towers of fifty and moved off to allow others through in a civilised accord.

An hour later and most of the food had been eaten, only a third of the massive trays still held small handfuls of meats, cheeses, breads, and fish.

Legolas watched Aragorn moving through the hall to the space under the great tapestry. He had only just left him; both having stood together eating happily and speaking at length about tactics and mulling around how best to combat the orcs new novel approach to warfare.

"My friends!" Aragorn called.

The noise around the room diminished at an impressive rate for those consuming far too much ale.

"My friends," Aragorn started again once the room was completely quiet. "We stand here together as one. The efforts of each one of you has assured the continuance of the Dúnedain. This summer we are fortunate, and as we look towards the face of another winter, we do so with strength and fortitude!" He paused, grasping his mug to one hand, "I thank you all." He raised his mug in salute. Shouts of thanks filled the room and Aragorn had to hold up his hand for silence. "Now is the time for entertainment. Where is Eryndes?" he called out to the crowd. "Eryndes, please?"

Through the dense crowd, Legolas spotted her filtering her way to where Aragorn stood. She smiled at those who continued to cheer her on, and finally reached Aragorn.

Aragorn put his hand on her arm, again waving the crowd into silence. "Before you begin however, I've a request of you." Aragorn smiled broadly, "In honour of our special guest this year," he pointed to him, and Legolas ground his jaw, "Sindar, I would request not one but two songs from you."

Eryndes glanced at the people in the crowd cautiously. "And what is the second song you would have me sing, my lord?"

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel," Aragorn looked over to where Legolas stood, "In the original Sindarin."

"An honour, my lord."

The Dúnedain around Legolas cheered at him, and he gave them a polite nod. Though he'd rather toss Aragorn on his backside for this.

At the other end of the hall, Aragorn swept his hand out to the crowd. "Dúnedain," he addressed the crowd, and then turned to gesture to Eryndes, "Eryndes of the Dúnedain."

The crowd cheered and Eryndes smiled again, but stepping to where she should stand to sing, her face became passive; all her focus directed to her task.

"May it be an evening star, Shines down upon you. May it be when darkness falls,

Your heart will be true.

You walk a lonely road;

Oh, how far you are from home...

Mornie utulie (darkness has come),

Believe and you will find your way. Mornie alantie (darkness has fallen), A promise lives within you now...

May it be the shadows call, Will fly away.

May it be your journey on, To light the day.

When the night is overcome,

You may rise to find the sun.

Mornie utulie (darkness has come),

Believe and you will find your way. Mornie alantie (darkness has fallen), A promise lives within you now . . .

A promise lives within you now . . ."

As she finished, the crowd cheered once more, however it was not as loud as before, though it was not obviously from the woman's lack of talent. Few faces were solemn, and some were wet with silent tears. Most whispered the words to the song as she had song them.

It was not hard to understand why. Since he had come to be amongst the rangers in the wild, Legolas heard it sung numerous times. Aragorn himself had repeatedly sung it over the years. The song was undoubtedly remarkably close to all the Dúnedain.

After all, music and song were an integral part of their culture.

Eryndes bowed her head to the crowd but didn't speak. Instead, she again focused herself, this time taking significant effort to control her breathing. Then she began:

"Fanuilos heryn aglar

Rîn athar annún-aearath,

Calad ammen i reniar

Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath!

A Elbereth Gilthoniel

I chîn a thûl lin míriel

Fanuilos le linnathon

Ne ndor haer thar i aearon.

A elin na gaim eglerib

Ned în ben-anor trerennin Si silivrin ne pherth 'waewib Cenim lyth thílyn thuiennin.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel

Men echenim sí derthiel

Ne chaered hen nu 'aladhath

Ngilith or annún-aearath."

The woman took a couple quick breaths to regain herself whilst the Dúnedain again showed their appreciation. Smiling, she bowed politely and turned to leave. However, her escape boxed in by the crowd, all of them waiting and looking over at Legolas.

The men and women around him looked to him pointedly, their applauding stopped to look at him expectantly.

Legolas did not smile. "You honour me, Eryndes of the Dúnedain. A more beautiful rendition has my ears never heard."

It was the truth; he had not. Her voice was strong, her pitch perfect and pure and the fervour she employed was beautiful.

But all he wanted was to leave. To go where none of them were and he would find solitude.

The people all around him raised their mugs in salute to him, and Eryndes inclined her head, then quickly stepped away into the crowd.

"I spoke the truth?" Aragorn said as he walked over to him. "Nicely done, no?"

Legolas sighed. "Undoubtedly, however I fear such a song has brought about a sadness within me."

Aragorn stared at him, all mirth fading quickly from his face, "My friend, that song has remained longer than your own long life. The only change is the singer and I do not believe my sister's singing could make anyone sad." He hesitated, "Could this feeling have more to do with the darkness that has forebodingly crept back into this world?"

He considered for a moment. "It is possible."

Aragorn eyes no longer looked at him, they were far off, in places of darkness and malice.

And Legolas was responsible. He'd snuffed out the joy from the one he called brother by his sour mood.

The unpleasant discovery of Aragorn's honour sister and the resurfacing of his own fears by the memory of the song she'd sung in his honour, were reason enough for his mood.

But bringing down Aragorn's mood on an occasion this this?

He took another breath, this one deep.

"Come, Aragorn. This is a joyous night for the Dúnedain. Do not allow me to dampen your spirits." He reached for the mug that he had abandoned earlier and held it up, "Almien!" and he drank deep, trying not to wince at the taste.

Aragorn chuckled lightly, "It would be much more convincing if you didn't gag."

"It is the intention what counts."

"Next time I will ensure we have some very fine wine for you."

Legolas took another deep mouthful, "I will adapt." He choked, "Though I cannot understand how men beheld moldy grains and determined a suitable drink could be made from them."

"You know very well it is fermented grain." Aragorn smiled as he lifted his own mug to his lips. For a long moment, Aragorn remained quiet. "Perhaps this sad feeling is not due to a dark and sinister affliction, but more an affliction of," he paused, "loneliness."

Legolas shook his head and looked out to the crowd of people around them. "I am no longer as alone as I was when we first met."

He could feel Aragorn's eyes on him, but when he did not respond, he turned back to look at the ranger and raised an eyebrow in question.

Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder, "Well I am at least glad of that. To small victories!" He held up his mug.

Legolas held his mug to Aragorn's. "Small victories."

Standing out on the third-floor terrace, the rain ceased long enough for Legolas not to get wet. However, the looming clouds and approaching thunder promised further lashings on the way.

The terrace was dark, not a breath of wind disturbed his solitude. It was hot. Stifling, and at the very least, making Legolas a little uncomfortable.

But for the solitude, it was worth it. Fortunate also the noise of the feast's last participants down in the great hall diminished up there.

Dawn was but two hours away, and Legolas considered adjourning to his room for the evening when one of the doors out onto the terrace opened and closed gently. A soft whisper of light mortal steps filled the solitude of the night.

The figure walked without purpose, a hand ran along the railing and head lifted towards the clouds.

For a blink Legolas thought to announce his presence. He did not, preferring to remain unseen.

Better the woman went about her business and leave him without a sound.

Abruptly the figure's head turned to look straight at him even though he had not made the slightest twitch. "Oh, my lord. Forgive me intrusion."

If this were part of one of Aragorn's games, to send this woman, this sister, to toy with him, Legolas would not be accountable for his actions.

He was about to resign himself to responding with conversation when her head lowered to him, "Good evening," and promptly turned and left the terrace.

Surprised that she had once again proved him wrong, Legolas was still no doubt grateful for his reinstated isolation.