Chapter Thirty-Five - Piece By Piece
It took the remaining company a further twenty-nine days to reach Rivendell. Most of the Dúnedain had been that eager to return to their homeland that they found the sedated pace the Elves had adopted, aided and abetted by the Hobbits, to be to slow. Rather than have them muttering and grumbling, and making the Hobbits feel guilty – Sam still had an inferiority complex when it came to dealing with 'big people' – Dídauar had given leave for them to ride ahead at their own pace. Of the sixteen that had been travelling with her, only four remained at her side, including Arahael. After quickly scribing a missive that detailed the victory over Sauron, the deaths of their kinsmen and the subsequent changes in command structure, Dídauar placed Bronad in charge of the departing warriors and the twelve set out.
Six days ride from Isengard they had encountered Saruman, the wizard's once pristine appearance spoiled by his journeying in the wild. He had not taken kindly to Gandalf's attempts at conversation or the presence of either Dídauar or Galadriel, convinced that they had both contrived to have the warriors see him in such a decrepit manner; the Elf Sorceress because she had no love for Saruman, the Dúnadan because she yet held him responsible for the deaths of six people she counted as more than simple kith and kin. Haldir and Rúmil had completely ignored the Istari and in return he had not taunted them with Orophin's memory which was well as it was debatable whether he would have survived an attack from the brothers. Tarcil, Nemír and Calemir caught up with the company four days later, Calemir carrying a hooded messenger hawk on his shoulder.
"'Tis a gift," he had said when Dídauar had raised a questioning eyebrow. "One that Gamling has given with the hope that communication between the northlands and Rohan is not sundered as it once was."
"And what name are we to give such a gift?" Dídauar had asked with a small smile.
"Lyfgast," replied Calemir as he removed the hood and cast his arm out, encouraging the bird to take flight. "He is strong and he is swift."
"And appropriately named," chuckled Dídauar as she watched the hawk ducking and diving through the air. Calemir looked at her in confusion.
"Lyfgast. It means Air Spirit," said Dídauar. "Take care of him Calemir. The messenger hawks of Rohan are as loyal as their horses and will happily do your bidding but once that trust is broken, they are lost forever."
"I will remember," said Calemir, pushing the hawk's hood into his pocket.
Eleven days after Tarcil had rejoined the company, they reached the base of the Misty Mountains and the ruined entrance to the Mines of Moria, which were now completely inaccessible from the western side of the mountains. Here the Lothlórien host took their leave, turning southwards to the Redhorn Gate and their homeland. It was Sam who had voiced the greatest upset at this parting for the young Hobbit had been enraptured by the Golden Wood and whilst its Lord and Lady had travelled with them, he was reminded of peace and healing and a warmth that he had yet to discover elsewhere. Now that they were parting however, he felt such feelings retreat and was saddened by the knowledge that he would not feel such again.
"Do you still carry the small box I gave you at our last parting?" asked Galadriel gently. Sam nodded. "While it was of little use to you during your Quest, when you return to The Shire, you will find a use for it. The Elves maybe departing these lands but their magic will linger for years to come should the right people chose to remember."
"My Lady," murmured Sam, blushing as Galadriel pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
As Galadriel gave the more formal farewells to the company, giving advice where she thought it was needed, paying particular attention to Frodo, Tarcil and Arahael, Dídauar was accosted by Haldir and Rúmil. Haldir gave her what was becoming a standard warning to be careful and to maintain contact between herself at those dwelling on the other side of the mountain, followed by a more intimate farewell appropriate to their status as Guardian and Charge. There was nothing unusual or unexpected in their conversation or gestures but what Rúmil did was surprising.
Traditionally, Silvan Elves wore a twisted braid of smooth Elven and coarse horse hair, fixed with a light varnish, around their right wrist. Attached to the braid were two equally rough talismans – one the symbol of the father's house, carved in oak, and the other the symbol of the mother's house, carved in pine. Intermarriage and the declining number of their people saw the tradition begin to fade but not in the brothers' family. Each of the brothers bore the symbol of an oak Wolf, and a pine Owl. The Wolf, though feared and considered bad luck by many of the mortals on Middle Earth, symbolised loyalty and teaching while the Owl symbolised wisdom and patience. Normally, when a parent either died or submitted to the call of the Sea, their talisman was passed to the eldest child who would keep them in remembrance of the absent parent, trying to live up to the memory they left behind and vowing to keep the token safe until they were united once more in the Blessed Realm but since Orophin had had no family other than his brothers, they had received the talisman in the stead of a child. Haldir, already carrying the his mother's talisman (his father's had been lost during the battle had claimed the Elf's life) had given Orophin's talisman to Rúmil, who had worn both braids since his return to Lothlórien from Helms' Deep but now he held the second out to Dídauar.
'Rúmil?' questioned Haldir, not exactly sure what the younger Elf was doing. The look on Dídauar's face showed that she didn't understand either.
'She is one of ours Haldir,' said Rúmil, taking Dídauar's wrist and tying the braid around it. 'Orophin felt the same way, you know that.'
'No,' protested Dídauar. She knew the significance of the braid about her wrist, having pestered Haldir for an explanation when she was twelve years old after seeing the talisman about first his wrist then Orophin's and finally Rúmil's.
'Yes,' said Rúmil, gripping Dídauar's hands. 'You wear Haldir's seal about your neck signifying you as his charge and carry the symbols of both Rohan and Gondor in a similar way. What armour you wear is embossed with the seal of Imladris and you wear the Dúnedain star woven through your hair. You may not wear them openly but you wear them with pride, all I ask is that you accept just one more token in honour of one who called you sister.'
'Rúmil, I live in the Wilds,' reminded Dídauar. 'I cannot guarantee that it will remain safe. And I am mortal! How do you propose I return this to Orophin when he reaches the Blessed Realm?'
'That is our task to worry about,' said Rúmil. 'For now, I ask that you keep Orophin's name alive. I know that he will likely be forgotten by most come the turn of the year, but so long as those he counted as family remember him, he is not truly lost.'
'I do not need a token for that, Rúmil,' insisted Dídauar.
'No,' said Haldir, suddenly smiling. 'But they help in starting a conversation.'
'I….' began Dídauar, glancing down at her wrist before meeting Rúmil's turquoise-blue eyes once more. Rúmil smiled gently and pulled her to him in a tight embrace which became three-way when Haldir wrapped an arm around his charge and his brother.
"Haldir, Rúmil, we need to be leaving," said Celeborn as he appeared leading three horses – his own plus one each for the brothers. Reluctantly, Rúmil released the Dúnedain Captain and stepped back towards his Lord while Haldir lingered a moment more.
'Nan lû govaded vîn,' he said, smiling with an air of fatherly pride as he brushing a strand of Dídauar's hair behind her ear and pressing a kiss to her forehead. (Until next we meet)
'Ir i lû telitha,' agreed Dídauar, kissing Haldir's cheek and the pair broke apart, Haldir immediately swinging himself into his saddle. (Until then)
"The next time you come east of the mountains, let it be for something other than War or you trying to hide from the rest of the world," suggested Celeborn with a small smile, holding an arm out to the Dúnedain Captain as the rest of the train moved into formation.
"I'll try," laughed Dídauar, gripping the arm that Celeborn offered her. Celeborn laughed lightly in response.
"That is all I can ask," he said, noting the talisman around Dídauar's wrist but deciding against commenting. "I wish you luck Captain. On whatever path your life leads."
With a final grip of thanks, Dídauar released the proffered limb and stepped backwards, her eyes meeting those of Rúmil briefly, silently remaking the vow to keep Orophin's name alive. The young Elf smiled at her gently, inclining his head slightly before he, Haldir and two other guards set off a cantor to make sure that the road ahead of them was safe.
Finally, with many a relieved sigh, the company crested the hill leading down into the Valley of Imladris at midmorning on the twenty-first of September. In the distance, the waterfalls of the Bruinen could be heard thundering over the rocks while all around the trees rustled in the gentle breeze. Bird song was carried through the air, some occasionally taking flight, and the peaceful, innocent sound making the travellers smile. The lingering Dúnedain were off their horses and walking with the Hobbits as soon as they reached the borders of the forest. With Lyfgast once more flying above their heads, Tarcil, Calemir, Nemír and a few of the younger Elves started to dart among the trees beginning an impromptu game of catch. Following a dig in the ribs from Dídauar, Arahael, Milthor, Dinenion and Aravir joined the others. Merry and Pippin, not to be left out of the fun, had joined the Rangers, dragging Dídauar with them and leaving their mounts to follow the path at their own pace. As the trees around them grew thicker, Dídauar paused in her play and shared a glance with Glorfindel, grinning. Glorfindel grinned back and a quick succession of calls echoed around the forest from Dídauar, Glorfindel and the twins. They were quickly returned, one sounding as though it was practically on top of them. With a quick salute to Elrond, Glorfindel ran into a thicket where he could be seen expertly scaling an ancient looking tree.
"I heard……" began Frodo, glancing between the Elrond, his sons and Dídauar. "When I first arrived in Rivendell I heard that call. I thought it was just woodland animals!"
"To the untrained ear, it is designed to be perceived as such," replied Erestor, slipping easily into the role of teacher, chuckling as he caught a second returning call. "Kalya, Tirnel is asking how many injuries you are returning with this time. It was decided many centuries ago that to have warriors carry instruments on patrol would be cumbersome so what you hear in Gondor and Rohan proclaimed by horn, you will hear in Imladris proclaimed by voice. What you just heard were personal calls identifying who was riding back into the Valley, as well as Glorfindel asking where the nearest scout was located."
"I heard them before I came to Rivendell," said Pippin. Dídauar chuckled causing Erestor to turn to her in question while Gandalf turned his attention to Pippin who had apparently been far more attentive than the wizard had given him credit for.
"Oh come, how do you think I knew they were in trouble?" asked Dídauar, raising an eyebrow at the Imladrian Councillor. "I do not See everything. My people were tracking you Pippin, from the moment you left Bag-End until the day you arrived at Amon Sûl. Once Frodo was injured, we did not shun the open road as Strider did and headed to Imladris with as much haste as the horses could manage to relay news of your plight. The Enemy was more focused on hearing conversation rather than cries of nature so it was easier, and safer, for us to communicate to each other that way."
"Why didn't you just join us rather than skulking in the shadows?" asked Sam. "We could've used an extra few swords when we got cornered. Maybe then Mr Frodo wouldn't have been hurt."
"A single fox is more difficult to track than a pack," said Dídauar. "To have the heir and the spare to Isildur as well as the Ring all within such close proximity would have been to much temptation for Sauron to resist and you would have been in even greater danger than you already were. Five riders caught you at Weathertop, the other four were seeking to rid Sauron of the other threat to his reign."
"You," said Frodo bluntly.
"My people," corrected Dídauar. "Though the Stewards of Gondor carry the blood of Númenor and are legitimate heirs to the Kingdom, the blood of the Dúnedain of the North is purer. If either Strider or myself had fallen during the War, there would always have been someone else to take our place."
"I thought Faramir was heir to Gondor after you," said Pippin, a little confused.
"Because I named him such," said Dídauar. "Just as Frodo was Bilbo's chosen heir rather than his blood heir. Had I not named another before I left Gondor, Tarcil would have been next in line until such time as Estel sires a child or names another in his stead."
"Big people lead complicated lives," said Arahael as he watched the confusion continue to furrow the brows of the Hobbits. "Much simpler to be a Hobbit."
"Here here," agreed Sam.
"Speaking of Hobbits," said Merry. "Frodo, did you ever write down your adventures or are you going to leave Bilbo disappointed on his birthday?"
"His bir……Is that really today?" asked Frodo in part panic and part amazement.
"Tomorrow," said Elrond. "At our current pace, we shall reach the House by early this evening so you have no reason to panic."
"Can't we get there a little faster? The Lady Arwen said something about Bilbo taking one last journey and I do not wish to miss him before he leaves," said Frodo. "Already I fear that I have dallied too long."
"Before I left, he stated that he will not leave Rivendell until he has seen you," said Elrond. "But, if you wish to hasten, might I suggest you ride with one of us? Do not fear for your ponies, Asfaloth will not return unless Glorfindel does and he will look after them. Should they prefer the idea of a stable to the open Valley, they will find their own way back. Unless the Dúnedain wish to linger on the borders awhile?"
"And have the Hobbits steal all the hot water?" asked Milthor. Dinenion cuffed him upside the head.
"And the best seats by the fire?" continued Aravir, ignoring Dinenion's rebuke of Milthor. Arahael slapped his arm.
"And the choice cuts of meat?" finished Calemir. Nemír caused him to trip and land on his knees in the loose soil.
"For that gentlemen," said Erestor, as he watched Merry and Frodo blush, Pippin scuff his feet and Sam try to become invisible. "They shall have the first pick at the meats, the first choice of seats in the Hall of Fire and shall be allowed as much time in the bathing chambers as they wish."
"And we are leading their mounts back to the stables," concluded Tarcil, boosting Pippin on to Shadowfax behind Gandalf whilst Arahael swung Merry on to Daeroch in front of Erestor. Elrond accepted Frodo from Dinenion and Dídauar passed the still blushing Sam to Lindir.
"Try not to tell him everything in the one afternoon?" said Nemír, recalling the nights where the Hobbits had continued swapping adventures long after everyone else had retired. The Hobbits nodded.
"Until sundown," said Elrond as his horse shifted restlessly beneath him. The Dúnedain saluted the Elf who turned and set his horse into a trot, Gandalf, Lindir and Erestor falling in rank behind him and the remainder of the train following in their wake.