Chapter 54 - The Daughter of Eluréd and Rovian
Rovian gently took her daughter's arm and remained close to her side while escorting her through the long hallways to the wing's central courtyard where her father anxiously awaited them.
Eluréd stood from a cushioned white wicker chair and approached her, taking both of her hands in his own, "We are overwhelmed with joy that you will be in our lives again," he said sincerely, finding himself amazed to look upon the face of his only child now grown into a woman.
Vezely looked down at the warm hands clasping her own before allowing her eyes to look into her father's strangely familiar grey ones, "I did not expect this. I thought..."
"Thought you were condemned to wait for eternity in those Halls," Eluréd confirmed softly, "But there were many who spoke on your behalf, reaffirming that you are not deserving of such a long period of waiting."
Vezely shook her head side to side slowly, her thoughts yet confounded, "How long?" She returned to the question weighing heavily on her mind, "How long was I in there?"
"Time does not work the same within those Halls. What can feel as years here, can seem as mere days inside," he explained carefully before divulging anymore.
"Then what year is it now?" she asked, her concern heightened by a non-direct answer.
Eluréd looked apprehensively at Rovian before answering, "By Middle Earth records, it is the year 120 of the Fourth Age."
"One hundred and twenty?" Vezely spoke the numbers slowly in lieu of a gasp as her eyes diverted in thought, "Seventy-eight years," she quickly calculated back to the last year she lingered with her troops in the deserts of the Dark Lands. It had not felt that long; months maybe, but not years.
Her father moved his hands to her forearms as if believing he needed to steady her from shock, "The Valar still desired that time ran here while you waited to be..." He paused uncertain how to word it.
"To be released," she replied guessing the word she believed he held back. Her expression was momentarily one of disapproval with the Halls feeling like a correctional facility, but she quickly neutralized any ill thoughts. She didn't desire to express antipathy, especially not on her first day re-embodied.
"The important thing is that you are whole again," Rovian spoke encouragingly while placing a hand on her back, "It is a new life, and one you can make the most of here where there is no war or sorrow, and where you have family." Vez turned her eyes on her mother's face; the kindness and warmth radiating from her blue-green eyes, the small curve of her soft smile, and her comforting voice were exactly as she remembered.
"You can start anew, Bellethiel," Eluréd added carefully, "You have been pardoned of your past. It need not hinder your path to happiness."
Moving her gaze back to her father, Vezely overlooked being called her childhood name for her parents only knew her as Bellethiel. "You are both right, I can start anew," she finally confirmed, lightening her tone and forcing a smile to help show that she was indeed grateful and would for now, forgo asking anymore questions despite holding them.
"Come," Rovian told her gently, again hooking her arm around her shoulders, "We will show you your new home..."
They toured her around the expanses of the old chateau whose architecture held a seamless blend of open and closed space with its myriad of fountain-filled courtyards and terraced verandas overlooking the coast in front and the green forests behind. Its high ceilings and windowed rooms held a richness which Vezely had never seen. She had heard Elven societies in Imladris and Lothlorien held such splendor and beauty, so perhaps she should not have been surprised that in Valinor it was the same.
They passed several servants dressed in similarly styled long blue robes, who greeted them with cheer and politeness leaving Rovian to afterwards explain the extent of the family's status and fortune, "...The larger grounds which stretch to the beaches below and into the forest behind us belongs to the heirs of Thingol and Melian...This is the House of Dior and you will be recognized as a member of it...I know it is a far cry from the humble life our small family lived in Mirkwood's northern forests..."
Vezely had not even thought back that far. For her, the lifestyle this villa and its surrounding lands provided was a farther cry from the life of a general in Rhun who lived in drafty canvas tents, ate meager rations of jerky and gruel, and had to break freezing mud or dried dirt off her boots each evening in order to keep her sleeping space somewhat presentable.
The rose gardens they passed through provided a vantage point into the dense forests behind them, which to Vezely bore some semblance to the edges of Ithilien. "Those forests," she asked as her heart rekindled warm memories, "You said they belong to this House as well?"
Eluréd noted her wandering gaze. She had appeared underwhelmed by the rose gardens since they entered when all others who had been toured there would stare and marvel at them for hours. "Only until the stream's crossing," he told her, "But beyond that point resides a colony of Sindarin and Silvan Elves who have crossed over from our homeland in Mirkwood and yet desire to live under the protection of Lord Oropher."
"Oropher?" Vez's eyes widened slightly, confirming, "He is the father of King Thranduil."
"That is correct," Rovian answered, observing her daughter's face and gauging her contained curiosity, "But King Thranduil does not reside there. We have heard he emerged victorious from the last great war, but he has not yet crossed over. Though his wife lives in those forests."
Legolas's mother, Vezely realized before proceeding to ask another desired question, "And his son? Has he yet crossed over into these lands?"
"Prince Legolas?" Rovian tilted her head slightly surprised to hear Thranduil's son being mentioned, "You know of him?"
Vezely stiffened slightly before replying in order to appear unconcerned, "I fought alongside him during the war."
"That is right," Rovian embarrassingly corrected her forgetfulness, "We heard you traveled with members of the famed Fellowship and played a part in its ending." Warm smiles stretched across both their faces, stirred from parental pride. While they knew only the broad outlines of her dark past, they had heard from Gandalf and Lord Elrond of deeds from her more recent and nobler endeavors. Vez diverted her eyes downward, unsure how to react to their praise. Noting her discomfort, Rovian returned to the question, "Prince Legolas has not crossed either. But we should make your introduction to Lord Oropher. He would indeed be pleased to hear such tales concerning his grandson."
Vezely simply nodded in reply, willing to passively agree to anything this day. Internally, as they continued to walk, she came to the uncomfortable realization that while she may be waiting for him, Legolas, far away in Middle Earth, probably had no knowledge of her whereabouts. Does he know that I died? Why is he not here? Is he alright? Perhaps he moved on?
The rose gardens connected to another section of the chateau, where her grandparents, Dior and Nimloth, held their residence. There they would be joined by her uncle, Elurín, and his Telerin wife, Airossúrë, for brunch in their grand courtyard.
"...Your father will introduce you, and it is expected that you do not speak until invited to..." Rovian explained on the way, garnering a confused look from her daughter. "Do not worry, it is only custom. Believe me when I say this family is truly nothing but accepting," Rovian seemed to speak from experience, "And they are excited to meet you..."
Dior, who had such lofty titles as being 'The Noble,' 'The Fair,' and 'The Wealthy,' sat stoically at the head of a long table. He looked kingly, reminding Vezely of her first meeting with King Thranduil. To his right sat Nimloth, an Elf of long dark raven colored hair, dressed in a purple gown with silver beading on the collar which complimented the grey robes of her partner.
"Father," Eluréd nodded politely, "May I present to you my daughter, Bellethiel."
Vezely instinctively placed a fist to her chest and bowed her head down in Easterling fashion, and when looking up she expected coolness, a steely gaze, a raised up chin, but instead she was greeted with a warm, inquisitive smile, as if the Eldar appeared pleased by her appearance.
"Welcome, Bellethiel," Dior spoke in a calm, crystal clear voice after rising from his chair. "We are glad to finally make your acquaintance and to welcome a new member to our residence. Please sit."
All eyes followed her as she made her way with her parents to their place at the table. There, two different sized gold-flecked, white porcelain plates were stacked upon each other and several silver forks and spoons and fluted glassware were meticulously laid out alongside them. An overly elaborate table setting for a brunch, Vezely considered when sitting down.
"She has the bearing of my father," Dior spoke after Vezely sat. His father was Beren, a mortal man. "It is true then, that you were indeed raised by Men." Vezely looked noticeably uncertain about this admission, and she shifted slightly in her seat. Dior picked up on this discomfort and added to ease her wariness, "I, the son of a mortal Man, do not find such a bearing offensive, nor the addition of a warrior to our house." Vezely blinked, before ducking her head down briefly in humility, still wondering whether she heard the lord's praise correctly. Then adding in interest, "What was the name that Master Olórin called you upon his first visit?"
She looked at her father not knowing who this 'Master Olórin' was, and he gave her Gandalf's Sindarin moniker, "He speaks of Mithrandir, my child," also providing her a raise of his eyebrows implying she was free to answer Dior.
Knowing Gandalf had used her Rhunic name in their presence did much to boast her confidence in telling it proudly. "My name is Vezely. It is of Rhunic origin, spoken in the dialect of the Balchoth clan in which I was raised."
"It is a unique name," Nimloth spoke calmly, still smiling upon her warmly, "Does it hold meaning in this language?"
Vez nodded, "It means the dawn's disappearing sun," forgoing any further explanation.
"It is not uncommon to have other names," Nimloth quickly replied still cheerful, speaking afterwards with her face to Dior, "With the varied dialects of Valinor, none would know this name hails from so far away."
"Though they could wrongly suspect it being of Avarin origin," Elurín spoke to his mother assuredly, "Best not to use such a name in formal occasions..."
Vez's eyes darted to the Elf who looked similar, though not completely identical to her father. He had a different air about him; he spoke in a sharper pitch and held his chin up just slightly. She found this an odd comment, wondering what 'Avarin origin' conjured in Valinor dwellers' minds, though she suspected it was negative.
Dior responded, "Does the child have a preference?"
Child; to be called this in a casual, non-condescending manner still managed to bring Vezely annoyed pause, though she knew for those born in the First Age, she was a child to their eyes. Vezely took a moment to consider her phrasing, desiring not to offend her parents. "I am new to being called Bellethiel and will falter in responding to it. But it is my only Elvish name and I would not force those who gave me it to use another. Though by all others, I prefer to be called Vezely."
Dior pursed his lips together and all awaited his reply, and Vezely realized that he probably often made decisions for the household. "At formal events and during introductions you will be Bellethiel. It is friendlier to the tongue of our acquaintances who perhaps speak neither Westron nor Sindarin. But seeing as you have your own acquaintances in Valinor, and high ones at that, I do not expect your Mannish name to go unheeded."
Vezely was not about to argue, instead she ducked her head in acceptance.
Brunch was served, and her uncle began ruminating on preparations taking place for an upcoming festival. His Telerin wife, Airossúrë, did not speak the entire brunch, and instead appeared content to gaze upon Vezely as if she was a curious spectacle; watching the way she held her utensils, noting the size of the bites of food she forked, the way she kept awkwardly pushing back her long sleeves, and how she left her glass of white wine untouched. Vezely noticed her interest and provided her a curious look of her own.
"Do you sing my dear?" Nimloth asked Vez who was in mid-glare, causing her to quickly redirect her attention.
"No." Vez replied curtly while continuing to eat her food.
"Then perhaps you play an instrument?" Nimloth amended politely.
Vezely silently shook her head side to side; well-aware it was uncommon for Elves who had the time and the patience to become proficient in some if not all of the fine arts.
"Then I shall teach you, as I did your mother. She became a fine player of the harp with enough practice..." she confided, causing Vez to grow curious of her own mother's introduction and assimilation into this family as a Silvan Elf.
Growing mildly concerned by his mother's known persistence, Eluréd interrupted, "Perhaps our daughter is not interested in playing the harp or singing, and that of course, is her choice. Her first day is overwhelming enough and she should take time in deciding her new endeavors."
"Of course, my son. Though she needs to understand that as an unwed heir of the line of Luthien Tinúviel, she will be expected to hold such talents and called upon to perform them..." Nimloth began to explain calmly, now noting Vezely's curious stare.
Forgetting about being observed, Vezely switched to being an observer and her parents in particular could sense a change in her demeanor. It was surreal, to find herself in high Elven society, being escorted through immaculate rose gardens, greeted by doting servants, and served artistically plated food on fine porcelain. It could have made her feel incompetent and further removed from any reality in which she could function, but sitting there listening to her grandmother made her realize Valinor yet contained the awkward family relationships and farcical public facades, that Elves were perfect only in concept, and it did much to ease her feeling of unworthiness around them. This was a world of difference and one full of traditions, rules, and expectations she would undoubtedly need to maneuver through, but as worries they held little consequence. And as she thought more about it, none of it mattered. These were trivial compared to the worries she left behind, and to the worries she yet held in her heart for another.
Though she did gather that this family was protective of their own. All of them had been through tragedy in Middle Earth, meeting untimely and tragic deaths, and in Valinor they sought only a peaceful existence, even if that meant having to uphold a certain appearance to Valinorian society. They believed it would be best that in public Vezely simply assimilate in appearance and attitude to High Elvish culture. They thought it would be the only way the public would not question her or her past, and thus leave her and them in peace. Should she simply acquiesce to this?
"...We should have asked what you desired to be called," Rovian apologized as they found their way back to their side of the chateau.
Vezely shook her head and took one of each of her parent's hands in her own, "I am your Bellethiel, and I would not ask you to call me by another's name. But I admit it is a name that I am not accustomed to, and I am even farther removed from this life now laid out before me."
"You do not need to conform to anyone's expectations," Eluréd told her concerned, "We just want you to be content."
"I will be, in time," Vezely replied slowly, adding, "But I am feeling tired, if I could rest..."
Vezely returned to her room and passed the afternoon on her balcony, wrapped in one of the padded quilts from her bed while sitting cross legged on the floor. The blanket was not needed for any coolness in temperature, since the sea breeze was mild and the sun's rays unclouded. Instead, having been without a body in the Halls, she discovered comfort of having weight upon her; finding some security in feeling closed in. She unconsciously rubbed the spot on her one finger where the silver betrothal ring used to sit; it had become a habit of hers to spin it when she was removed in thought. Its absence was unduly noted.
Before dawn, a small knock at the door was followed by her father's kind voice asking if everything was alright. Rather than turning him away, she invited him in; telling him her location on the balcony.
Eluréd stalled briefly when noting her odd position sitting cross legged on the ground. But desiring to adjust to her needs, he, albeit uncomfortably, took a seat next to her.
She turned her head and provided him a brief smile, amused at his awkward and inelegant attempt to mimic her position, before returning her gaze outward to the sea which began reflecting the golden colors of the sunset. "It is beautiful here," Vezely sparked the conversation to forgo giving him any unease, "It has been some time since I tarried by the sea."
"It is even more beautiful walking along the shoreline," he told her also admiring the view, adding as advice, "I find it a good place to think."
"I may find myself there soon then," Vez replied quietly, smiling slightly at his mild guidance.
Eluréd told her calmly, "Do whatever you need to center yourself again."
"Yes, that is how I feel, off-centered," she said realizing it was the best word to explain it, "All of this is surreal. Despite my time in the Halls, it is as if it has only been mere months since I was Far Rhun, chained to a wall of the prisons of my enemy, keeping track of the days, and holding hope that my men would see it through. That we would win. And I still know not what happened. All I know is that none are now of this world."
"You should grieve for them," Eluréd told her, "Mourn their passing, and perhaps, we can find someone who does know what happened."
She looked at him grateful, and nodded once to show she would do so. "It is the same," she said warmly after looking again to the setting sun, "The feeling of sitting by your side."
"Except now I doubt you desire that I recite you a poem, or braid your hair," Eluréd joked slightly, remembering the assertive six year old who requested much of his time, and his inability to deny her requests.
She smiled, but confided a strange desire, "But I would not mind hearing a poem from our homeland."
Finding himself glad to again be a needed father, Eluréd purposefully chose one of great length which spoke of the oldest trees in their home woods and their first tenders. Vezely closed her eyes and imagined herself there, forgetting for a time her unease and finding comfort in the sound of her father's voice...
...Before Eluréd left her room, he told her as added encouragement, "The beaches are quiet most of the day, though you may encounter Noldorin lords riding their horses up the coastline in the early mornings."
"...Should we be worried," Rovian asked her husband, as they peered out from their room's balcony, watching their daughter wander barefoot up and down the beaches below, gathering up pearls from the sands and tossing them back into the ocean tide.
"She needs time," Eluréd returned, sensing as his wife that her heart needed healing.
A week passed by with Vezely spending her afternoons listlessly walking the pearl-strewn beaches and her evenings seated on the floor of her balcony gazing up at the stars above her. The distant orbs seemed to glisten brighter there than she had seen in her past half decade in Rhun, and brighter still than her brief stay in the West. But she had become even more reticent, worrying her parents slightly. In truth, she was faltering in finding her center while grieving for her men whose fate she knew not.
...That day was planned a family trip south to the port of Alqualondë to attend a festival. What the festival was celebrating Vezely did not know, though she gathered there were an abundance of these events throughout the year. It would be the first time she would make a public appearance alongside her esteemed family.
She sat at the mirrored vanity, and in one hand she clasped half of her just brushed hair and in the other, a pair of open scissors moving to cut its length at her shoulders. Before she snipped, however, her mother's voice called to her, "Are you ready dear?"
"Just a minute," she called releasing a nervous breath, forgoing her hair cutting intentions and sliding the scissors under a towel on the vanity yet uncertain whether to use them later. She hastily tied the mass of hair back into a low ponytail before going to grab one of her riding cloaks from the wardrobe.
After she put the grey cloak over her shoulders, she opened the door to find her mother dressed immaculately in a moss green gown with matching cloak, looking her up and down while biting her lip.
"What?" Vez asked concerned by her expression, gathering something was wrong.
"You should wear the matching cloak that goes with that gown," she told her.
"Matching cloak?" Vezely repeated the words slowly, not realizing there was one that matched, "Right." She turned back to the wardrobe to go grab it, though while there she ended up shuffling back and forth through the rack not knowing which cloak actually paired with her blue gown.
Sensing her uncertainty, her mother quickly went to her aid, pulling the one whose brocade matched, though it was not of the same color.
"Are you sure you do not desire me to do your hair?" Her mother had asked the evening before if she needed assistance, and now seeing her hastily pulled back ponytail decided to ask again.
Knowing she would be traveling with her grandparents, as well as her uncle and aunt, led Vezely to acquiesce to her assistance, as she returned to the vanity with her mother following.
"Do not fret," Rovian comforted her while brushing her hair, believing her daughter flustered, "It will not be as horrible as you think..."
The day before Vezely had a long chat with her mother on her first experiences in this household; coming from her simple forest home in Mirkwood to this lavish lifestyle threw her through a similar loop. "...They do care about heritage. All in Valinor do..." she detailed the issues with her Silvan background, "It will always be an aid to how people perceive you, but you are lucky, this House is favored and it will only aid in your welcoming..." Though Vezely did not fully register the extent to which her new family heritage would dictate her dealings until they reached the Telerin port of Alqualondë.
On the horse ride south, her uncle made the comment that Vezely rode in a Mannish manner, though Dior was quick to reply to his son that he rode like a young Elleth, bringing him some embarrassment and making Vez smirk for the first time since her re-embodiment. Riding a horse also provided her some familiar enjoyment. They had her on a white mare that was quite calm, but who Vezely knew would make a rather pathetic war horse.
The bustling harbor city's white walls and pillared gateways were decorated with flowers and garlands in preparation for the evening's light festival. It appeared similar in function to the many port towns Vezely had seen in her life, though in delicate architecture and cleanliness, it was something of a marvel. Along its docks there would be feasting, singing, and dancing under the stars along with the lighting of paper lanterns into the harbor. While often these events were to honor the Valar, it was also a time to reconnect and enjoy the company of friends.
"...And this is my granddaughter, Bellethiel," Dior introduced her to his acquaintances as they paraded down the docks.
Rovian spent the time whispering in her daughter's ear explanations of who these Elves were and the reputation of their Houses after they left. "...They are wealthy in the trade of cut gems...They own half of the fishing docks here..." And Vezely simply bowed her head down politely with each introduction, not only uninterested in engaging them, but unable to understand or speak in the languages being used. She hadn't realized Sindarin was only the common tongue of Elves in Middle Earth, while in Valinor it was used only in certain pockets. While Alqualondë was the main city of the Teleri, it was not uncommon to also find Noldor among them for purposes of trade or other business. The Vanyar, her mother explained as they walked to where they would dine, were less inclined to mix with the other clans and stayed in their city of Taniquetil, which lay beneath the halls of Manwë.
It was then that a Noldorin company approached them for introduction, and Vezely realized immediately it contained many of the riders she often spotted trotting along her family's beach in the early mornings.
Her mother explained quietly as the Noldorin lord spoke to Dior, "That is Prince Arakáno, he is the fourth child Fingolfin..." Vezely could tell her grandfather was considering a request from the prince.
"Bellethiel," Dior held his hand toward her as invitation to come to his side, "May I present to you Prince Arakáno, from the House of Fingolfin."
"My lady," speaking in Sindarin, Arakáno bowed his head down and offered her his hand, "Would you honor me with your company on a walk?
Vezely's eyes immediately shifted to her grandfather's, finding them silently encouraging her to accept the request rather than dismiss it; his stern gaze practically implying it would be rude not to. Not wanting to create tension, Vez accepted, though she did not take his hand and kept hers clasped together as she stepped aside him.
Eluréd immediately approached his father, confiding his concern, "I do not think it wise to have her courted so soon after her return."
Still observing the couple walk away, Dior spoke to his son less worried, "It will happen at some point and to further display her willing assimilation and ease her transition into this society, should we not assist in finding her partnership? Besides, I would not refuse a member of this House..."
The tall, dark haired prince led Vezely down the pier where they could get a better view of the floating lanterns below, and hear the song of the Elves who sang there. He seemed hesitant to engage in conversation, as Vez remained content to play aloof as she stopped and peered out at the lights bobbing along the calm dark waters below.
"They are magical are they not?" he finally spoke observing the side of her face, and after straightening his posture he added, "You must forgive my apprehension. All believed the line of Luthien Tinúviel was spent, so to suddenly discover this is not the case and that her vision stands before me, stalls my speech."
She raised an eyebrow, struggling to discern whether he was being sarcastic, but she realized he was serious. They truly did not know about her past. "I am no Luthien," she replied bluntly, hoping not to accrue any more of his attempts at smooth talk, "So speak free of flattery or do not speak at all."
He smiled intrigued albeit slightly surprised by her abruptness, and he was reminded of her steely gaze from her balcony the week before. "You are modest," he said turning his eyes to the lights on the water below, misinterpreting the reason for her brutal response, "Though no doubt as you hold the beauty of your line, you hold the talents also. You need not be embarrassed by mild praise, my lady."
Her mother and grandmother was right, Vezely realized, those who knew nothing of her past would hold certain expectations of her and her abilities based off her bloodline alone. As he awaited her response, she also began to ascertain that this odd invitation was in fact an attempt by this Noldorin lord to court her and that her grandfather just handed her off as if she were to play a doting Lady Adele. Feeling a bit disgusted by this, she decided to end it there, "Your praise is misplaced, my lord, for I do not hold the talents I assume you speak of," she looked at him seriously, "Unless you consider psychological warfare and torture among such talents," as his brow furled believing he misheard her, she smiled sweetly, "Now if you would excuse me, this walk was a mistake." Vezely immediately left the confounded prince's side, a smirk on her face and a swagger in her walk; she knew she probably overstepped and said too much, but she felt more like herself in that very moment than she had all week. On the way back up the pier, from afar she spotted a familiar old wizard parting the crowds he walked through.
"Gandalf!" Vezely picked up her pace moving towards the wizard, only to stall her steps, click her feet together, and provide him a proper Easterling greeting by placing a fist to her chest and tilting her chin down low.
"My dear," he spoke to her using Westron, "If not for your stance I would of hardly recognized you," Gandalf then laughed cheerfully, his heart joyful to see the young Elf again.
"I hardly recognize myself. But," she clenched a bit of her skirt's fabric, adding in contained discomfort with it, "This is adjusting."
"Hmm," he considered gruffly, "Don't adjust too much my dear." He brought a hand around the back of her shoulders and guided her to walk aside him, "The plan was not for you to change, only for your surroundings to."
"But I do not know who I without my surroundings, without my responsibilities," she told him concerned. "I need to know what happened to my men, Gandalf. What happened in Rhun after my death?"
He stopped and cupped a hand on her shoulder. He had feeling this would weigh heavily on her mind and regretted not coming to see her sooner; desiring to allow her the first week to hopefully bond with her long lost family. He spoke carefully, "They won the war, Vezely, and peace was reestablished in Rhun." Her eyes wavered on his, uncertain whether to place truth in his words. "You accomplished the task you set out for. You brought peace to Rhun."
Vez gritted her teeth, and to disallow any tears to fall, she breathed in steadily and blinked them dry.
Gandalf smiled warmly, finding her emotions proof that the Valar listened to him and he confided, "It is comforting to know that you have not been removed from your past. It is as I desired, for your time in those Halls to not cleanse you, instead, to have you adjust here, among loved ones. And in time, you will be fine. Just fine. But now, there is one who has been waiting to meet you."
He continued leading her down the pier as many stopped and respectfully bowed to the esteemed Maiar as they walked. Under a garland strung gazebo awaited a tall figure, cloaked in blue raiment. He stood straight and had his hands clasped together under the long sleeves of his robes
Her mouth was agape while his formed a proud smile to look upon one of his prized pupils.
"Rómestámo?" Vez spoke the Blue Istari's name as if she looked upon a false vision.
"That I am, young Elf," he called her by his pet name, using their familiar Easterling dialect.
She smiled briefly before bringing a fist to her chest and tilting her head down, then disregarding the delicate gown, she crouched onto one knee in a pose one only gives to their master to display gratitude. She never expected to see him again; to have the opportunity to thank him for all he did for her during the difficult years of her transition.
"Arise," the Maiar scolded her slightly, "Your presence here is gratitude enough for the trouble you caused me..."
Vezely would spend the better part of the evening speaking with Rómestámo on the dealings in Rhun after her departure, and relaying her own experience after the war. "...I searched for you," she told him of her first year after leaving Minas Tirith. She learned that while he departed Middle Earth, his partner, Morinehtar, fled to the Orocani Mountains and that his whereabouts were yet unknown, though he suspects he settled in with the Avari who are content to stay in that region. It was comforting to gain some closure on this chapter of her life, to discover these two powers had not disappeared from existence.
"...We knew you had it in you, even if you did not know that yourself..." he told her reminiscing of the curt Easterling who gave him nothing but grief the years she spent in his presence.
Many bore witness to the daughter of Eluréd and Rovian speaking in a strange tongue to this Maiar, thus garnering curiosity of who she was outside of her House; who she was before leaving Middle Earth.
"...Perhaps we need not worry about perceptions," Dior spoke to his son and daughter-in-law when witnessing this interaction from the terrace above, "She will fit in on her own terms..."
"Can you see it Gimli?" Legolas called optimistically to his short friend as he peered out from the deck of the grey ship, "There is land ahead."
"Land?" Gimli scoffed, squinting his brown eyes in the same direction, "I can see nothing but stars amid darkness."
"No Gimli, there is the harbor, and a port beyond with lights strewn about it," Legolas replied assuredly, as he jumped onto the upper deck with spirits uplifted.
His father observed his son carefully, finding some solace that the journey there managed to bring some life back into him; as if the water and sea air cleansed him of some grief and rekindled his love of adventure. Thranduil held in his own anticipation for his reunion with his parents, and of course, his beloved wife, whom his thoughts often wandered to. As they sailed, he slowly let his past responsibilities of kingship go, exchanging them only for worries over his sons well-being. He even made no qualms about the dwarf tagging along, though he feared the impending doom which was wrought on all mortals who set foot in the Blessed Realm. One obstacle at a time, he told himself, as the boat drifted into the harbor.
A/N: A longer chapter (yay!) but no reunion yet (sorry! I tried, but ended up writing other necessary stuff). Next chapter is the one you all are waiting for. Fluff ahoy! ;) And happy DoS viewing!