Chapter 52 - The Uniter of Nations
[46th year of the Fourth Age; 48 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith...]
The black horse galloped faster after crossing the nondescript borders of Gondor; its heavy huffs of breath matched the thumps of anticipation felt in the chest of its rider as she leaned forward into the frigid wind that greeted them. An intense gallop over meadows and riverbeds turned to a leisurely trot as soon as they entered the forests of Ithilien. There, the rider dismounted her saddle to find trails that could lead her to a settlement within.
It was the 46th year of the Fourth Age; six years after the end of the Rhunic Civil Wars. One month had already passed into the autumn season so the leaves of Ithilien had turned enumerable shades of orange and red and were falling upon her as she walked. The soles of her black leather boots crunched on those that had already found their way to the forest's floor, making it more difficult for her eyes to spot a trail. Yet with patience and perhaps a little luck, she came across a well-used path and followed it.
It was early evening in the Elvish colony when she arrived. Its inhabitants had just returned from their day's labor and were in their quaint homes relaxing or perhaps starting to prepare the evening's supper. It was not long before someone noted the rider's presence and came out to greet her, albeit apprehensively.
Noting some anxiety in her greeter, for she was heavily armed and yet hooded, she spoke first, using Elvish, "I am looking for Legolas of the Woodland Realm. Does he still inhabit these forests?"
The Elf gave her a curious look, finding her black raiment and weaponry uncanny to her speech, though her use of his native tongue made her appear less threatening. He responded politely, "He does. May I tell him of Lady..." He paused, inquiring her name.
"Just a visitor from Rhun," she replied humbly, not desiring to provide any details.
The Elf simply nodded, seeing no needed to question her purpose further, "I will alert him of your presence...visitor from Rhun."
She pressed her fist to her chest, and bowed her head down in gratitude. While watching him walk off, she thought endearingly, So he did wait.
Legolas had spent the afternoon with Gimli watching over Eldarion, the three year old son of Arwen and Aragorn. Gondor's royal family already had two daughters, who were both now of adult age. During their youth, each spent a lot of time in the Elven colony, learning Elvish trades and lore. And now with Eldarion, the returned presence of a child in the colony had rekindled in many a joyous reminder of days too quickly past.
The colony had shrunk significantly during the last two decades, with many inhabitants deciding it was time to leave these shores on the ships Lord Glorfindel had commissioned for him and the Elven travelers who accompanied him from farthest Rhun. Legolas journeyed to his father's halls in Eryn Lasgalen to celebrate the return of the Elf lord, and to hopefully hear news about the lands he just departed. Variag and Harad ambassadors in Gondor spoke of continued civil war and of a devastating plague, though this lacked the more personal information he desired.
"...We crossed paths in the forests of Dorwinion," Glorfindel told Legolas carefully, as his father listened closely nearby. Thranduil always considered himself caretaker of his son's emotions, and with Vezely, he had heightened concern. "...The lands' troubles distress her heavily..." Glorfindel went on to detail the reason for the Easterlings' diversion through those forests, the confrontation with the Dorwinion Elves over the handling of two prisoners, the unexpected death of her second in command, another victim of the disease that had already taken a third of her army, and the heartbreaking request the dying woman made of Vezely to watch over her daughter, Cyane. Glorfindel divulged every detail and his impression of what he witnessed, feeling Legolas had a right to know after so many years of silence. There was no letter to be handed to him, however; though Glorfindel assured him Vezely would not have had time to write it with the evening's events. "...There was something special about this child," Glorfindel pondered again, thinking about Cyane, "I believe she has gone on to do great deeds for Rhun...And perhaps, even greater for Vezely..."
When he was alone with his father that same evening, Thranduil offered advice, "You must prepare yourself for the possibility that she will not return."
"She will," Legolas replied in denial, "She will not break our promise."
"It is not the mental breaking of a promise, but the possibility of her falling that you must prepare for," he returned firmly, "You heard Glorfindel detail her handling of those prisoners. She has not changed her evil ways in war. The Valar..."
"The Valar request much of her," Legolas interrupted hastily. He knew he should not speak ill of the higher powers, but it pained him to believe they would still condemn her after such trials and hardships. "She still fights for peace, regardless of her means," he added in defense, believing she still sought after redemption.
"That may be so," Thranduil replied carefully, "But her fate is not ours to decide..."
Legolas remained committed to waiting for Vezely's return and then not sailing until the time was right for both of them. He also did not yet desire to leave behind his fellowship companions, within whose company he always felt content. It was days such as the one just experienced - a morning spent with Arwen and Aragorn, an afternoon caretaking a precocious child, and an evening sharing food and banter with Gimli when he stayed in the colony when visiting from Aglarond - that were the most joyous for Legolas. It allowed him to forget the call and set aside his worry for Vezely, albeit momentarily. And when rumors then confirmation came to Gondor that the greater Rhunic wars had ended, he believed it was just a matter of time before she would return. But as years continued to pass without her presence, he grew more restless.
Gimli lit a pipe after he slumped into a cushioned recliner, which the Elf prince never used and in truth, only had as furniture for the benefit of his aging dwarf companion during his many visits. "Aaah," he sighed, relieved to be able to relax, "Toddlers are more tiring than axing a pack of Orcs."
"You must be getting old my friend, to be worn out by one not even half your size," Legolas returned jovially, as he milled through the kitchen preparing a simple dinner.
"Aye, that I am," Gimli puffed out with some pipe smoke, "I felt it deep in my bones the last trip we took. Age is finally creeping up on me."
"You still have many miles ahead of you my friend," Legolas replied sincerely while placing a kettle on the stove, trying not to show his internal sadness for time passing by.
The sudden knock at the door did not surprise them. Legolas was often called upon by neighbors in the colony for various reasons or cheerful visits. So instead of having his resting friend leave his armchair, Legolas quickly set off to answer it.
"My lord, apologies for the interruption," the Elf standing outside stated respectfully.
"No apologies needed, Alyan," Legolas corrected him with a smile, while opening the door more fully. "We were just about to have some supper, if you would like to join us?"
"That is kind of you to invite me my lord, but I have come to inform you of a woman who has entered our village, inquiring of your whereabouts. She says she is a visitor from Rhun," Alyan watched as the smile dissolved from the prince's face and was replaced by stoic disbelief, "My lord, she's..."
But Legolas did not wait for Alyan to finish his sentence and instead rushed passed him out the door.
Alyan stared concerned at Gimli who had come to the door upon hearing the mention of a visitor from Rhun. The dwarf immediately gathered from the Elf's unspoken worry that the news was not what Legolas perhaps believed. Although just moments ago complaining of soreness, Gimli sprinted after him.
In the midst of detaching a sword from the horse's saddle, the rider heard the crunch of footfalls on the littering of leaves behind her, causing her to turn. She met the blue eyes of a golden-haired Elf whose quickened steps halted, and who searched her over before looking to the glen behind her, scanning for someone else in her company.
The rider slowly pulled the black hood off her head, and she tucked a piece of her shoulder length black hair behind her ear, "Legolas of the Woodland Realm?" She asked after regaining his gazes' attention. Yet processing the situation, all Legolas could do was briefly nod, which was enough for the woman to believe he was the one she sought. "My name is Cyane, General of the New Rhun Defense Forces. I bring news. And my condolences," she spoke slowly and carefully, her eyes displaying the sorrow of the information she came there to provide.
Gimli had arrived in time hear the Easterling woman's greeting, and he immediately noted the shock that overtook his companion.
"Come with us inside lass, and get yourself warm," he coaxed the visitor politely, "Master Aylan, please take her horse to the stables."
Cyane pulled her rucksack from her horse's saddle before relinquishing the reins to the Elf who greeted her.
"C'mon lad," Gimli placed a hand on Legolas's forearm, "Let's not do this here."
Cyane followed them to a modest home set within the trees. She found the warmth walking inside inviting after riding through the frigid autumn air. She set down her own ax and sword at the entryway, but kept her beloved general's sword in her hand. Gimli quickly tended to the whistling kettle, telling her to take a seat at the table.
Versed in Rhunic etiquette, Cyane did not speak until the tea was served so there was an awkward silence and tension brewing between her and the Elf who slowly sat down across from her.
Legolas observed her closely as she pulled from her rucksack a small fabric wrapped package, keeping it on her lap, while balancing the sword she did not relinquish at the door there also. Vezely's sword, he thought in disbelief, not thinking any further about the package. As Gimli poured him a cup of tea, he realized he felt sick in his stomach and would not drink it.
"Gratitude," Cyane's voice broke his thoughts and he watched her duck her head down after accepting the tea that Gimli poured. "You must be Gimli, Son of Gloin," she acknowledged the dwarf who she had heard tales of with a brief smile.
"Aye, that I am," he replied, taking a seat next to Legolas.
"I would have come sooner," Cyane continued as an apology, "But the war's end brought many tasks before I could take my leave."
"The war's end?" Legolas finally spoke, gathering his knowledge from the ambassadors in Gondor, "That was six years ago. Vezely...she has been..."
"Dead for six years, yes," Cyane finished his sentence noting he could not. Legolas closed his eyes and ducked his head down, trying to reconcile the six years he lived in ignorance of this horrible truth. Hoping to uplift him, Cyane continued firmly, "But so glorious was her death that remembrance sparks pride in the hearts of all Easterlings. She died with upmost honor, a true warrior."
He looked up at her; finding an uncanny remembrance of Vezely telling him she always desired such a death. "The Balchoth live and die by the sword;" he suddenly could hear her voice in his head.
To aid his now mute companion, Gimli prompted the conversation forward, "So, she must have fallen during the last battle?" They had heard peace was secured after the taking of the Dark Lands' capital; a grand feat aided by Khand and Harad's forces.
"Before," Cyane corrected him politely, preparing to divulge the truth of Vezely's last moments in the Dark Lands' capital. "...I would never have let her go through with these plans, though they were deemed necessary at the time," she yet held regret for not having been there to intervene. "Once passing the borders into the Dark Lands, our forces were hindered by ambushes, tainted water supplies, assassination attempts, all courtesy of the Brotherhood of Melkor who desired the gold set for her head and the bragging rights that came with such a capture...The deal brokered was her for two-hundred of their slaves and three of our captured regiments...We needed to cool their attacks, so we could continue our march to the capital in hopes to take it before the end of this festival, an opportune time of attack...It was a miscalculation. All thought the General would be the last sacrifice, but she was the first they took to their high temple."
"They killed her," the words fell from Legolas's mouth hastily in despair, his eyes diverted from hers as he unevenly gulped in some air.
"Not as a sacrifice," Cyane tilted her chin up, determined to speak proudly of her mentors last deeds, "The sun was about to set when our troops stormed their gates, but when we entered, their defenses were already in disarray. How she managed to uncuff herself is anyone's guess," Cyane smirked slightly, "But she single-handedly took down the Brotherhoods' high priests and with their own ceremonial sword, no less. Survivors who bore witness speak of hundreds falling under her blade before they could take her down." She slowly pushed aside her tea cup and gently placed the package on the table in front of her, untying the burgundy fabric to reveal a highly polished, black soap stone box. One side was engraved with Rhunic script. "All Rhun honored her at her funeral. Variags, Haradrim, and the greater Easterling tribes. Vezely will be remembered for bringing peace to Rhun, as the Uniter of Nations." Cyane stood up and with measured movements presented the sword in the palm of her hands horizontally, "Her sword was entrusted to me prior her imprisonment to guard along with her other precious items; so that I could return them to her when we met again. But as that is not to be, I believe she would want me pass this task on to you," she outstretched the weapon towards him.
Legolas eyes roamed the embellished sword, its black lacquered sheath, gold tipped hand guard, and the black linen intricately wrapped around its hilt, before rising from his seat to take it from her with two hands. The sword was nothing like the one she carried before the Battle of Pelennor Fields; it was a high officer's sword that visually proved she had come a long way in terms in rank.
Afterwards, Cyane proceeded to unclasp her mother's necklace from behind her neck. Pulling it out from under her tunic, her right hand clasped the two objects as she unstrung them. "These also I entrust to you," she pushed her fist forward to which Legolas, having lowered the sword to his side, apprehensively outstretched his one palm. "I believe," Cyane spoke as she released the rings into his palm, "It was the first and only time she removed that silver ring." Cyane had already noted that Legolas wore its twin.
Legolas stared at the two rings in his hand; they stood as a tangible validation that the woman he loved was gone. His mind was overwhelmed by the sorrow of her passing as it mingled with the fear of never seeing her again. Gimli noted that Cyane's hands had already moved to the sides of the small soapstone box on the table. The dwarf intervened, "Sit down lad," he told his grief stricken friend, believing he should not be standing for what he assumed was next.
Legolas obeyed Gimli's orders, enclosing the rings in his hand as he did.
While Cyane had properly mourned the passing of her mentor, seeing the Elf's grief brought back her own sadness. She took a deep breath before continuing, "In her will, she requested to have her ashes buried in the woods of her birth. I am more than willing to do this, but I do not know where is suitable in these lands that were once called Mirkwood."
He realized now the box contained her ashes.
"Hmm," Gimli let out a low grumble, believing this all may be too much for his pal to think through.
But Legolas composed himself, saying slowly, "I will do this. I know where."
"Gratitude," she bowed her head down and proceeded to tie the burgundy cloth back around the box.
Legolas stood back up; he needed to leave and be alone, "Gimli, please provide our guest with something to eat," then addressing her, "You may stay here as long as you would like, Cyane."
"Gratitude. Until morning if possible, for I plan to ride to Minas Tirith to seek council with the king," Cyane explained. Her task went beyond a personal endeavor to something grander - sparking much needed diplomacy between the West and Rhun.
Legolas nodded, collecting the tied box as he spoke, "I can provide you an Elven escort, so that your council will be easily met."
"That would be much appreciated," Cyane returned kindly and tilted her head down low.
While the Elf slowly left their presence, Gimli quickly went to task, asking Cyane as he walked around the table, "You and Vezely were close?"
"Yes," Cyane rounded her yet cold hands around the tea cup, finding the warmth matched the fondness she held for her mentor, "It is because of her that I even exist..." Cyane went on to explain how Vez protected her mother during her pregnancy and delivered her at birth. "...She raised me when my mother passed...She was a bit stern as is her way, but not unkind..."
Legolas made his way to the side porch, placing Vezely's sword and ashes down as he sat cross-legged aside them, finding himself mimicking the way Vezely always used to sit on the evenings he joined her outside. His Elf ears overheard Cyane in the kitchen speaking warmly of her while he sat there. They were deeds which spoke of her gentler side and of the kind heart she preferred to hide under the stone cold warrior; the woman he knew and loved. He slowly fit the two rings one by one on his own fingers, where he would keep them long after. Clenching his fist, he brought them to his lips, closed his eyes and whispered, "Vezely, how I wanted to share this life with you. To have you sit here by my side and hold my hand in yours. To look up at the stars through these trees together," he then covered his face with his hands and hung his head in grief.
...Dawn stirred and after a night of much needed rest, Cyane found herself on the porch standing next to the Elf who had remained there all evening. She greeted him in Elvish, and then asked permission to sit next to him. She sat cross-legged on the other side of the soapstone box. Before speaking, she took a moment to just look out into the still forests, breathe in the crisp morning air, and listen to the peaceful sounds of a brook babbling not far off. "She spoke of this place," her calm voice matched the scenery, "The deserts of the Dark Lands were merciless and she remarked what she would not give to be here in Ithilien, where water runs freely over rock cliffs into the clearest pools and streams she had ever seen," she turned her head, her gaze upon the contemplative Elf, telling him encouragingly, "She never did lose hope in returning west to you. She did not speak of it often, but that is her way to not speak of her heart unless asked."
Legolas smiled briefly, agreeing with this sentiment about Vezely's manner, and because after an evening of grief he found that the woman's words did indeed bring him comfort.
Cyane continued, desiring before taking her leave to ask him questions whose answers continued to elude her, "But while she never gave up hope in seeing you again, I believe she began to lose hope in her redemption. I do not fully understand Elvish death, though she spoke of her past hindering any chance of a future after it." Cyane still felt a little peeved by this and her tone darkened, "I am an Easterling, and to me, she was the perfect leader: fearless, unrelenting, and selfless. Never once did I see her falter, no matter if the world was burning around us, she persevered for her men and for the people of Rhun, and did so to the very end. She sacrificed herself for peace. She would be honored in the halls of our ancestors, but to think she would be made to suffer for our triumph," she paused and shook her head, too upset to say anymore.
"I carry your grief with this," Legolas responded quietly a moment later, and engaging her with his strained eyes, he stated determined, "Please know, that my hope of being with her again yet stands even if I cannot predict the will of those who decide her fate."
Cyane breathed in deeply, knowing she had to accept this as the only means of settling the fears she held of her mentor's future. She placed a hand on top of the soapstone box and softly ran her fingers over the cold, smooth stone. It was time to let Vezely go. After six years of having in her possession her sword, her rings, and her ashes, she would need to leave them behind in Ithilien. Again she listened to the forests around her; she could hear nightingales chirp merrily nearby as if nothing was wrong in the world. Allowing herself to believe the one who Vezely loved, internalizing his hope for this as her own, she confirmed steadily, "Then when you see her, please tell her, she was more than a mentor to me."
"I will do so, Cyane of Rhun," he told her politely, believing Vezely already knew. "Thank you for coming here, for bringing her back to me."
Cyane smiled kindly at him, speaking sincerely, "I would go to the ends of the earth for her, for she has already done so for me." She then lifted herself up, knowing it was time for her to leave; time to let go. She stepped down from the porch and turned to face Legolas, whose diverted his eyes as he found himself regretting her soon departure. He knew so little about Cyane, even though they both held importance in the same woman's life.
Then thinking again of the curious writing on Vezely's sword, Cyane spoke a new revelation out loud, "It is about hope, isn't it? The Elvish phrase engraved on her sword."
The Elf looked up at her confused before moving his hand to the sword which yet lay to his other side. He slowly unlatched the blade from the sheath, sliding it open to reveal the Elvish script; The stars still shine, even behind a veil of darkness. "Yes," he managed to reply as his heart sunk, "It is."
Cyane breathed in deeply, finding this realization uplifting. "Please take care, Legolas of the Woodland Realm," she brought her fist to her chest and bowed her head, "May your path bring you contentment."
"As may yours, Cyane of Rhun," touching the palm of his hand to his chest and bringing it forward.
He watched the woman leave before turning his eyes again to the polished soapstone box and then to the engraved writing on the blade that lay half unsheathed in his lap.
"Vezely," he whispered to the trees, "Is this what Lady Galadriel meant when she said my heart will drive me to the sea? Will you be in Valinor waiting for me?"