Chapter 47-Celebration (part 1)
It so came, that the time spent in the houses must come to an end. In truth, all were incredibly glad to leave: for far too much foul time had been spent in the rooms. Our galavanting lessened, yet our merriment did not. We left the Hobbit's but briefly with Gandalf as they washed and ate. And there too, were other matters to be attended. A brief stop back at our dwelling, for quick change of casual clothing to something semi-formal: or in my own case, with no finery of my own, a saddening attempt to brush my hair, before realising after all this time that my friends had combs of their own I could borrow. Which I did, with far greater results than those of my broken, manky one.
Clothing smoothed, preconcepted excitement at the forefront of our minds, we followed Aragorn down unto a wide lawn, with, as I heard from others, a view spanning many leagues of the surrounding land. The rush of the Anduin could be heard to the East, as it could be throughout the city. Yet in this spot, this moment, it filled the silence.
At the end of the lawn, sat three thrones. I observed their flapping in the breeze and smirked because although no sight could tell me what emblems the pennants held, I knew. It was unnecessary to be worded.
Due to the sheer length of the lawn, and distractions both near and far, it was not the sound of footsteps or near approaching heat that told me of Frodo and Sam's arrival, but the cry of a great trumpateer of Dol Amroth. As they rightfully deserved. Before any more was come ado, the ranks of soldiers, commonfolk, nobility and peasantry alike took part in a phenomenon. For that was the only word that did it justice: it started with a single voice rising sweetly from the crowd, but was immediately joined by the cries and songs of many tongues. And all, young and old, Easterling or Eorlinga, cried the same thing in a cacophony of many languages and rhythms: yet all lyrics remain the same.
Long live the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!
Cuio I Pheriain anann! Aglar'ni Pheriannath!
Praise them with great praise, Frodo and Samwise!
Swords unsheathed, spears thumped and were shook, horns and flutes rang in glory. From so many such discordant, unrhythmical, strident and divergent noise had never held so much joy. It felt as if a great bubble had burst bliss upon thousands, hundreds of thousands.
Daur a Berhael, Conin en Annun! Eglerio!
Praise them!
We all knew that warm blood rushed to the Hobbits faces and they were undoubtedly, dumbstruck. Yet they deserved no less than what could be given, and give we would, voluminously and freely. As they passed a round of applause arose from the clamour, and eventually the six of us got the chance. We stood to the left hand of the three great seats, some of us awkwardly and some more natural. I myself, fell in the initial category, feeling rather out of place despite the diverse crowd. Recognition, I determined, was not something I was used to. It explained the name of 'Shade' the Dunedain anointed me through and through. As all things ended though, stinging palms ceased clapping.
Frodo and Sam stood at the foot of Aragorn's throne. Sam laughed with good nature. "Well, if this is not the king of all!" He exclaimed. "Strider, or I'm still asleep!"
"Yes, Sam." The king replied with warmth. "Strider. It's a long way from Bree is it not, where you first concluded me ignoble? A long way for all of us, but yours indeed the most dark of roads."
I could not quite tell what happened next: but I gathered that the Hobbit's tried to pay homage. But it was to their great surprise and utter confusion, that Aragorn knelt to them. And then taking one upon each hand he set them upon the throne, then turned to the captains, soldiers, common folk and all who stood by and addressed them so as his voice rang over the throng: but the people who all knew he addressed, were Frodo and Sam.
"My friends: you bow to no-one." And again, he knelt, this time at their feet. A glad shout swelled and died away as swiftly, one by one, family by family, legion by legion kneeled before them. And for the first time in 6 484 years of living, I completely willingly and joyfully kneeled before those on a throne. This-this signalled a shift. This was the final end of all things cruel in the world, the end of all that would live and breathe poison into the lands and peoples of Arda.
This was finality. This was an end, in all absolutes.
All people of Middle-earth laughed and wept that hour, and in the midst of revelry, the voice on an unknown minstrel sung in the elvish tongue, until all were hushed and the droplets of silver and gold Sindarin rolled off his tongue in velvet sheets. It rose and fell in solely elven tongue at first, and then in the common tongue of the West, until all hearts were wounded by sweet arrows and brought into regions where delight and pain are one and the same thing, and tears were the wine of the blessed. Not a single eye remained unsaturated, nor a single voice left without hoarseness. All was well.
A/N-I know, short chapter. But for the sake of swifter updates, I have decided that I will post shorter chapters-well, chapters split into parts. Thanks for the reviews:)
