Chapter 55 - New Arrivals
The grey ship sailed into the harbor mid-morning, floating past the evening festival's now extinguished lanterns yet bobbing up and down on the calm blue waves. In a small paddle boat collecting them were two Telerin port patrollers who waved in the new arrivals, guiding them to a dock where they could set anchor.
It was then that from high atop the pearly gates that all in Alqualondë could hear the voice of Eönwë, who was the herald of Manwë. He came from Valimar to welcome them. "Hail Thranduil, son of Oropher, steadfast king of Eryn Lasgalen...Hail Legolas, son of Thranduil, most renowned of all bowmen and Elven warrior of the Fellowship...Hail Gimi, son of Gloin, friend of the Eldar, great Dwarven warrior of the Third Age..."
Not only had Eönwë been sent to publically announce their arrival, but he had also announced it to Lord Oropher and his people, and to Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, so they would make the journey from Tirion to welcome the travelers that morning. Being in Tirion during the past evening's festival, Gandalf also stood proudly next to his friends awaiting them.
The sun smiled down upon the three as they exited the grey ship, followed after with others in their company - Elves from Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien who decided it was also time to leave Middle Earth. Gimli, with cane in hand, took a moment to find his footing on the stable dock before continuing over to Lady Galadriel who welcomed him with a shining smile.
"Ah, and indeed I look upon that which is fairest one more time," Gimli spoke in awe of the white clad She-Elf who offered him her hand.
"...My son," a golden haired Elf gently cupped her hands aside Legolas's cheeks, looking into the depths of his blue eyes, "I am so proud to be your mother..."
Legolas watched as his parents embraced, his heart warmed to see his father in the much needed arms of the one his heart belonged to. He knew her absence pained him greatly, and through the years, as his kingdom grew dark and faltered under Shadow he grew more in need of her comfort. But he was strong, stronger than most, and able to endure this painful separation for the sake of his kingdom and his people; knowing that it was only a short amount of time in the vast eternity that Elves were given to walk Arda.
He admitted to having grown envious of his father's temporal viewpoint, for it should be the same for him and the one he loved. Though with Vezely, her fate was not so certain and the Valar had every right to deny her the same vast expanse of time for the evil deeds she committed. Upon exiting the grey ship, Legolas of course noted she was not there among the esteemed Elves sent to greet them, and as his mother embraced him a second time, she could sense, as any mother would, that behind his proud facade lay a grieving heart.
"Your heart is heavy my son," she spoke engaging his eyes again, and taking his hand she saw upon his finger both of the family's pure silver betrothal rings set upon it. "Here you seek a love you think forever lost..."
Yet it was a time of celebration and Legolas observed with gladness as Gimli was escorted by Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn down the docks; to see his steadfast friend make a journey none of his race had ever made. The Elves who stood there to greet them marveled at the sight of a Dwarf honored so highly, though rightly so for the Fellowship's deeds were well-known and its members well-respected in Valinor; songs had already been written and were often sung to honor them.
Lord Elrond joined Legolas's side as they followed the company. "Valinor welcomes you Legolas," he told him joyfully, "And there is another who would welcome you more." Legolas's uncertain eyes turned to meet the sage Elf's grey ones. "Mithrandir spoke to me this morning. It has been but one week since Vezely has been released from the Halls of Mandos."
Legolas halted his steps, his eyes wavering as Elrond's words seemed to clutter in his mind before being processed. "You speak the truth," replying as revelation and realization, "Where? Where can I find her?"
"She resides with her family in the House of Dior, a beachside villa an hour north of here. I sent a letter just this morning asking her presence, but she must not have received it. Please tell her," Elrond added cheerfully before Legolas continued on to spread the news to his family, "That I will come to visit soon."
"Father," Legolas called to him before catching up aside him, "She is here, in Valinor," he declared as if short of breath.
Thranduil's stoic face queried his son's sanity before believing him. Pushing back his own desire to question why she was not there on the docks in Alqualondë to greet them, he thought only for his son's obvious needs, "Then you should go to her..."
... After hearing that his grandson would forgo the accolades awaiting them in the harbor city in order to ride north to find his betrothed in the House of Dior, Oropher took some time in responding. "It was rumored that Lord Eluréd had a daughter," he turned from Legolas to look at his wife who knew the rumors he spoke of, "And that this daughter was a servant of Sauron."
"Was." Legolas replied quickly, his eyes strained, his heart eager, "And pardoned of all her deeds, for she resides here now."
He gauged the importance this reunion held to his grandson, and Oropher was not about to stand in his way, "It is a respected house. I am happy for you and," he smiled slightly, "I understand your urgency..."
Thus, the House of Oropher traveled together to House of Dior. Spent from the long journey overseas, Gimli agreed to stay behind in Alqualondë, but only if Vezely promised a visit soon.
Vezely returned to her room in her family's beachside chateau, finding that in her brief absence it had been swept of the sand she tracked in from the beach, her bed had been made with fresh linens, her clothes laundered and re-hung in her wardrobe, and everything was immaculately reordered to the way it was the first day she saw it. Gone too were the scissors she had hidden on the vanity, which, in fairness, she had snuck from the maid's sewing quarters the day before.
She threw her riding cloak on top of the bed and plopped herself down next to it, her eyes staring up at the white crown molding which spanned the corners of the high ceiling above. She was quiet on the horse ride home that evening, her mind processing all she learned from the two Maiars concerning the pardon given to her by the Valar and the peace Rhun found after her death. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders; perhaps all those years spent in war were not in vain. She wondered whether Cyane survived the battle of the capital and experienced this peacetime, for the child was born into war and had never known peace. Though she regretfully knew this was something she may never be able to find out.
She closed her eyes and listened to the not so distant waves crashing along the shoreline. She began matching her breathing with the rhythm as her mind pondered, Now what? Where do I go from here? Her old life was gone. Over the last week she tried to deal with this reality, mourning the passing of her men along with the passing of everything she had ever known. No longer was she the general of legions, developing war strategies, giving orders, and fighting in battles. Her body no longer held the proud appearance of a Balchoth; the tattoos which reflected the honor she accrued as a warrior were all erased. Her current raiment of fine silk gowns and lacy undergarments did not mark her as a soldier in the Reunited Easterling Coalition, with their characteristic black pants and hooded overcoats. Missing also was the scarf or headband she would always wear to cover her Elf ears in order to make her appearance less distinct among men. Her straight, dark hair had never been this long that when she rested she remained unsure how to keep it from getting utterly tangled or caught underneath her when she moved about. She wondered whether the hands once skilled at the sword and sai, should find themselves pulling harp strings as her grandmother desired, or if her strong voice that barked orders should make song instead. She was Bellethiel in her appearance, her location, and in her new responsibilities as member of the House of Dior, but she realized that she remained Vezely in mind.
One tear fell from the corner of each of her eyes, trickling down the sides of her face as she continued to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling; it was as if they materialized the relief she felt coming to this realization. Don't adjust too much, Gandalf told her the evening before on the docks of Alqualondë; an admission that now gave her hope of being able to somehow fit into this new world. The Valar forgave her; she was allowed to start over, to build a life here with her kin, and still be herself. Otherwise, as Gandalf mentioned, she would feel more removed from her past and those Halls would have cleansed her of all regret and uncertainty.
If only you were here, Legolas, she whispered. It would be easier to start over with you, like I had planned to in Ithilien.
Rovian came calling with a letter addressed to her, but Vezely did not move when she told her mother to enter. She placed the letter on the small writing desk and sat down next to her on the bed. She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead gently, "Is everything alright?"
The gentle eyes and kind face looking down upon her was the one she remembered seeing tucking her into bed every night as a child. She knew so little about her mother but now had a second chance to be with again. A small smile formed on her face and she nodded, "Much is better after last night."
Rovian took her daughter's hand, hoping her words were true. Mithrandir spoke to her and her husband when Vezely was conversing with the Blue Istari. He mentioned she expressed some discomfort in adjusting, further prompting Rovian's need to reaffirm her desire to assist her in this transition, "We are here for you, your father and I. If there is anything we can do to..."
Vezely sat up next to her, "Mother, everything is fine," she tried to hush her worry.
"Please," Rovian wrapped her other hand around the one she still held, "Please, do not shut us out."
"I do not mean to," Vezely knew she had been getting progressively quieter as the days passed, never telling her parents her true thoughts or woes, "I just...I do not easily fit in here."
"Then could we adjust here to help fit you?" she asked hopeful.
Vezely shook her head in disbelief over how understanding her mother was. She realized she needed to be honest. Her parents were truly there for her and she could trust them. "Maybe just some small changes," she confided unsure. "Such as, I may want some pants in my wardrobe. My hair is too long and if I cut it, I do not want admonishment. And I do not want to learn the harp," she broke a smile with Rovian after saying this, for she knew her mother had not wanted to learn the harp either but her mother-in-law insisted. "And," finding herself becoming more serious for Vezely knew she needed to tell her this to avoid its reoccurrence, "I prefer not to ever be courted."
"Ah, your father and I wanted to apologize for your grandfather's scheming," Rovian answered, inwardly relieved all these changes were tenable. "It is possible others may come to call because of your standing. You do not need to answer them, but I hope," Rovian pulled her hand closer, telling her sincerely, "I hope you have not shut your heart to someday finding partnership."
"It is not that, I..." Vezely stalled, trying to find the courage to speak openly of what she considered an uncomfortable subject, "My heart belongs to another."
"My daughter, forgive me. I had no idea," a surprised look overtook Rovian's usually calm face. She suspected her daughter meant someone from the race of Man, and thus faced the tragedy of being parted from them forever. She spoke carefully, "To have loved and lost a mortal, ones heart is..."
"It is not a mortal Man that I love, mother, it is an Elf," Vezely confided to her, "I queried of his whereabouts my first day here, but he has not yet crossed to these lands."
"Prince Legolas," Rovian recalled quickly in surprise, before finding herself relieved and then overjoyed. But she did not see joy reflected in her daughter's eyes which were set downcast, and she realized immediately, "And now you fear for him."
"I promised him. I promised I would return, but I broke my promise," Vez spoke woefully, "Part of me now hopes he has moved on, instead of grieving after my death, for we both feared it would result in us being parted forever because of my sins."
"Shhh," Rovian hushed her, placing her hands on the side of her face, "The heart does not wane so easily. Do not give up hope that one day he will sail and you will be together again..."
The letter sat forgotten on the writing desk as Rovian encouraged Vezely to spend the morning gardening with her in the sunshine; hoping to share the simply joy all Woodelves found in nurturing nature. Vezely remembered her family had a small garden where they grew fresh herbs and that her mother often spent the mornings there, taking her time tending them and singing as she did. While the rote tasks she was given calmed Vezely, more calming was being beside her mother and watching her doing something she loved.
"...Like this," her mother placed her soiled hands around Vezely's, guiding hers to be gentler at the plant's roots when patting down the soil.
Vez laughed slightly, realizing she was being too rough and saying nonchalantly, "I am not good at tending life, but taking it."
Her mother looked at her apprehensively, causing Vezely to realize she had not yet been so glib among her parents yet. "Apologies," Vez added quickly, her eyes concerned, "I did not mean to offend with my words or my manner."
Her mother shook her head, realizing she was being unfair, "No, I know you are skilled at warfare. I suppose I still see that wide-eyed six year old running barefoot and jumping into piles of fallen leaves."
Vezely gently grabbed her mother's hand with her own, "She is still there too. And she is thinking of the song you used to sing to me. The Forest River song. Could you sing it again for me now?"
"If you sing it with me," Rovian returned, engaging her daughter's eyes, desiring to have the company of her voice.
Vezely knew the words and the melody, and meekly attempted to sing alongside her mother's well honed voice. Her father would overhear them from an adjacent pathway, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the moment; feeling thankful to have his daughter returned and his family whole again.
"I heard you dismissed Prince Arakáno rather abruptly last night," Dior asked after Vezely passed him in the rose gardens on her way to wash up from gardening.
"I had more important people to talk to," Vezely replied unconcerned, though still polite.
Dior smirked, "Yes you did." He slowly traced the outlines of a vibrant yellow rose with his fingers, and Vezely again found herself intrigued by the measured movements of High Elves. Yet inspecting it, he added, "He was either offended or intrigued enough to request your company again."
Vez scoffed, "Then he will be further offended or disappointed when he hears his request has been denied."
"Are you sure?" Dior turned sharply to ask her, finding himself surprised by her brasher and more forthcoming manner, "He is respected and is well liked. And considering his own family's indiscretions," he was referring the Feanorian's dealings with Morgoth in the First Age, "They would not question your own."
"That may be true, grandfather," Vezely replied straightening her posture, "But it is a match that cannot be made. I might as well tell you what I just told my parents." At the request of her mother, Vezely spoke to her father about Legolas after she finished gardening. He was as surprised as Rovian was, but also thankful. She did not know how Dior would react. "I am already engaged to another. His name is Legolas of the Woodland Realm."
Dior raised his eyebrows, "The grandson of Lord Oropher? My my, you are already well established here. And his father, Lord Thranduil, approved?" He asked knowing her ill reputation in Middle Earth.
Vez shifted slightly, "He didn't disapprove."
Dior moved to her side, saying assuredly while look down on her, "He would be a fool if he did. And I would need to remind him that his father served our house in Doriath..."
"...The great forest behind lies our home..." Legolas's mother detailed the expanses in Valinor and where Oropher and his people resided. That its beauty far outweighed anything in Middle Earth was hard to fathom before, though the scenery on the trail there proved convincing.
They entered the large wrought iron gates of the chateau and walked a pathway lined with yellow roses before approaching the entrance courtyard and its large fountain containing a statue with the visage of Lúthien Tinúviel at its center. They were greeted by a grounds keeper who went to alert the family of their arrival.
That Lord Oropher had come unannounced seemed an odd occurrence, for often such meetings between esteemed High Elf families were planned in order to make proper arrangements. But it was oddly coincidental, having just heard of their daughter's engagement to his grandson.
The company was invited into the grand foyer, where Dior and Nimloth stood to properly greet them, alongside Rovian and Eluréd, who eyes stared in disbelief that the grandson of Oropher was suddenly on their grounds.
"Welcome, House of Oropher," Dior spoke loftily, providing them an Elvish greeting by placing the palm of his hand on his chest and lifting it outward to which they replied in kind. His eyes slowly shifted to who he rightly presumed was Oropher's grandson, "We perhaps know the reason for your visit. Lord Legolas, you are most welcome here."
Forgoing what should have been a formal introduction of their house, Rovian broke the invisible barrier and walked over to Legolas. She could see it in the Elf's eyes the moment he entered the foyer; the fear one holds when they are so close yet believe it could still be taken away. She would not let him linger there any longer than needed for the sake of High Elf customs.
Legolas assumed the She-Elf approaching her was Vezely's mother, Rovian. The same freckles dotted over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and spoke calm and reassuringly, "She is on the beaches below. Come, I will take you there..."
Vezely was told of the letter that came by her mother while gardening, though its sender was unknown and upon returning to her room after a bath, she picked it up from the writing desk only to place it back down. Her suspicion was that it was from Prince Arakáno and she was not in the mood to read any of his smooth talk. The past week she had been spending the afternoons wandering the beaches below, and this afternoon she desired to do the same.
She would discard her shoes at the bottom of the causeway and step onto the warm sands barefoot as she had before, picking up unpolished pearls as she walked up the shoreline, and discarding them by throwing them into the tide as she went along. The waves seemed calmer today than before, the breeze milder, though enough to tangle her hair reminding herself to again find that pair of scissors. She would stand and stare eastward, onto the great dividing Sea of Belegaer, knowing far beyond lay Middle Earth. It was uncanny, for during her last half century in Rhun, she constantly found herself staring westward. Yet regardless of her coordinates, she continued to look in the direction of where she believed Legolas to be.
...Rovian led Legolas through the villa's open courtyards to the stairs that led to the beaches below. The families followed behind them, stopping short on the upper terraces while Legolas continued on. At the bottom, he stalled and stared at the Elf maiden who was walking barefoot away from him up the shore. She was dressed in a cream yellow gown, of which the ocean breezes were blowing its voluminous fabric against her figure. Along with her long, dark hair, he thought in disbelief, It cannot be her. He stepped onto the sands and continued apprehensively, his heart yet racing as he watched the maiden walk further up the coastline.
Vezely stopped and turned towards the sea, crossing her arms and looking wistfully out at the horizon, unaware that she was no longer alone on the beach. And seeing her profile, Legolas knew, It is her.
The cry of seagulls prompted Vezely to turn her gaze, and she spotted the figure walking towards her. After narrowing her eyes for a sharper look, her breath caught and her mouth went agape. She shook her head in disbelief and spoke into the breeze, "My eyes deceive me. You cannot be here. It cannot be you."
He heard her voice among the crashing of the waves and called apprehensively, "Vezely?" As if also questioning her existence.
As her lips fell further open, she covered her mouth with her hand before moving it down to her chest, where she felt her heart beat quicken. She willed her feet to move towards him.
"Legolas, you're here?" she stammered yet in disbelief.
"And you are here," he replied, finally finding himself in reach of her. His hands gently cupped the sides of her face and his eyes looked upon her anew as she did the same.
She set her own hands on top of his, finding healing in the warmth of his touch. Her tear filled eyes wavered on his, she stammered, "I am so sorry. So sorry I did not come back."
"It matters not," he told her, his eyesight blurry and his voice cracking, "As long as you never leave me again." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer, and she complied, wrapping her hands around his back to complete the much needed embrace.
Tears fell from both their eyes as they held onto each other until Legolas pulled back to look upon her face again. He had removed the silver betrothal ring and her gold Balchoth leader ring that long sat around his fingers, "These belong to you," he told her while taking her right hand.
Vezely did not need to ask how, not then, for she knew Cyane was the one entrusted with those rings and that it had to have been her who carried them West.
He placed the gold ring on her index finger first, but before doing the same with the silver betrothal ring, he asked the exact question he did the first time he presented the ring to her, "Will you permit me?"
"Yes," the simple word escaped from her lips quickly, and she watched him slide it on, afterwards intertwining his fingers with hers. She returned her eyes to his, finding joy peeking through the grief they once held, and she knew hers must have appeared the same. With this exchange a hunger passed over them and their lips met, apprehensively at first, for the feeling felt new again, but they quickly found as the kiss continued they had been starved of it for too long.
The two families witnessed the whole exchange on the upper terraces.
"Well," Dior spoke first with his arms crossed and smirk plastered across his face, "It appears we will be having a wedding. If," he looked to Oropher, "Such an arrangement pleases your house."
Oropher knew Dior well enough to gauge his own opinion mattered little, not that he considered the pairing unpleasing to begin with. "I do believe my grandson has earned the right not to have his kin meddle with his future happiness, regardless of how unexpected this all is."
Thranduil stared pensively at the distant couple; he was not pleased with the Easterling-Elf for breaking her promise and causing his son grief for too long, but when his wife clasped the hand he held by his side, calmness overtook him and he realized her effect on him remained. His family was reunited, and his son's heart now mending; perhaps it was time to see Valinor as a welcomed change.