Chapter 39: About a Boy
(~***~)
Angharad was not the only child whose care Legolas pondered as their time at Temple Mountain progressed. Ginnar had been working on his final contributions to the restoration and watching over the beautiful scrolls that Master Gongshu was putting together to send home to his parents. Legolas offered to sit with them while the boy went through the Eastron text with the Artisan, copying the translations into Sindarin so Ginnar would not forget later. The resulting records were true works of art in two languages.
The dwarf spent more and more of his evenings in the elves' room. After many weeks, the boy finally let himself fall asleep there one night to their stories and songs instead of marching upstairs to sleep alone. He had half woken to see Lossrilleth above him as she placed him gently on Angharad's floor mattress and tucked a blanket over him. He let his eyes close again. The girl rested next to her mother, perfectly glad for the excuse.
After a solid month of persistent friendliness and helpfulness from Legolas, the boy was finally convinced to use the hot spring baths. He almost blanched when he realized Thranduil would be joining them, but the older elf caught wind and made a point of asking to hear about the Eastern history the dwarf had studied. Thranduil did not have to fake his interest at this point. The Tradition was an impressive system for mortals; he wondered in what context it had grown.
"Who talks about battles in a bath?" Ginnar grumbled as they approached, feeling unsure.
"Well pick a sea battle!" Angharad said, exasperated. She picked up a few pieces of bark lying on the ground. "Here are your ships, you can reenact it!"
That made Ginnar laugh, and he finally agreed to go in with the elf-men. Lossrilleth caught Legolas by the arm and handed him a comb. She gave both ellyn a serious look, glancing back to the comb and the boy.
"Carefully," she whispered.
Legolas nodded knowingly. He was certain now. That early disappearance had been about the dwarf's hair. It had become clear that his wife had been right about another thing: Ginnar was their foster child now. Legolas would need to be the one to fix this issue sometimes – if he could get Ginnar to agree. But he had an idea.
"Follow my lead," he whispered to Thranduil as they entered the bathhouse.
When they were all settled comfortably into the hot springs, the children making a game of calling back and forth to each other through the thin wall, Legolas looked over at this father, relaxing in the hot water with his waist length blond tresses floating in the water.
"Ada, you have a knot in your hair," Legolas observed casually. "There in the back. Turn around, let me fix it for you."
Thranduil looked at his son like he was insane. His hair was certainly not tangled. And if it was, Legolas would not be the one to fix it for him! Legolas glanced subtly over at the little dwarf perched on the edge of the pool, who was starting to pay attention to what was happening on his side of the wall. The old king suppressed a sigh of displeasure and turned, allowing Legolas to run the comb through the ends of his hair, working out the alleged knot.
"I saw one on you, too, Ginnar," Legolas continued, acting as if this was incredibly normal. "I imagine curly hair does not love this humid weather we have been having."
Ginnar glanced at Thranduil. If the king could stomach it…
"Oh alright," the boy conceded. "The clouds certainly do not help. But the sea air was even worse before," he continued stiffly as the elf began running the comb through his hair. Ginnar simply could not allow it to get so bad again. He could not.
"All set," Legolas said after a few minutes. He could see why this was going to need regular maintenance. A few snarls had been quite tricky.
"Here," the elf added, handing the comb to Ginnar. "For your beard." He knew better than to offer to help with that.
Legolas settled back on the rock shelf and began a conversation with Thranduil while the boy worked the comb through his small beard. This had not been so bad, Ginnar thought. Maybe Lossrilleth had been right about her husband. The boy would prefer to go to her first if he needed something, but if she was not available, he knew where he could go.
(~***~)
Soon, the snow began to melt. The elves began discussing their next plans. Their brief mountain retreat, a blessed respite and time to heal together, was almost over.
Lossrilleth had been bothered lately about the issue of whether they could bring Ginnar home to Aglarond themselves or not. She had been thinking about their first journey in those lands. They did not need to start as far away as Anfalas this time. Still, even going as fast as they could with a mortal child in tow, she doubted they could make it from the sea to the mountain in less than a fortnight – and that assumed they could find and pay for good horses. An extra month added to their journey, at least. It was not returning to Valinor 'without delay' as they had been instructed.
The young mother began praying before the shrine of Guan Yin daily, asking for intercession and a sign. To Nienna and to Eru she posed every promise and every argument she could offer to support the conclusion that they should bring him all the way home. She was persistent and certain that it was the right thing to do.
Typically, after Ginnar had eaten with the artisans, he would rouse her and they would walk back to the elves' room together. But one night nothing the young dwarf could do would get even the slightest reaction from Lossrilleth. She sat straight, staring into space. Ginnar raced across the floor to the men, who were packing up to leave. The fastest runner of them was swiftly sent to find Legolas, who he located at the edge of a training court, cleaning practice weapons while he watched Angharad try to land a single hit on Thranduil.
The elves all dropped what they were doing and raced down the mountain to the ancient shrine, where Ginnar was pacing anxiously near Lossrilleth. She had not moved a muscle. Legolas prodded and tested her to no avail: she felt numb, and she was unresponsive to both him and Angharad no matter what they tried.
The girl was very upset. She'd gotten very quiet and was sitting beside Lossrilleth, holding onto her arm and watching her mother's face for any sign of movement. Legolas had been paying attention to how his daughter followed his cues, following his expressions of anxiety with more of her own. He tried not to let himself panic and make this worse for her.
"What was she doing?" Thranduil asked the young dwarf. He'd been vaguely aware she'd been coming here. He'd assumed it had to do with the boy.
"I do not know, really. She just comes and sits in front of the Guan Yin statues," Ginnar said, wide eyed and upset.
Even if Thranduil could guess what she'd been doing here, praying before Nienna for hours at a time, he didn't know how it could help. It was getting very late and the man who'd been left to stay until the elves left was getting restless. He had to lock up – there were real jewels in some of these statues.
"Legolas, pick her up and we will bring her back to our room. We can continue this there," the old king finally told his son.
"Walk with me, Angharad. Let him help your mother," he told his granddaughter. His eye caught on the little dwarf standing stiffly among them. The boy was clearly upset as well, but he was keeping himself to the side. Thranduil was aware how attached Ginnar had become to their elleth, even if he was trying not to barge in on their family now.
"You, too, Ginnar," Thranduil finally added. "Both of you walk with me. We will see what we can do for her in our own space. It may be that we only need to wait. She has been praying to a Vala that is known for her mercy. As frightening as this is for us, Lossrilleth may be perfectly fine – just busy communing with something more powerful than us."
Legolas tried to take those words of comfort for himself as well, though they had been meant for the children. As he picked Lossrilleth up, his memory flashed back for a moment to the day he'd found her on the beach in Valinor, all those years ago. He'd carried her back to the house of Elrond just like this: a dead weight in his arms. But then, she'd only been a curiosity to him. He looked into the faces of the dozen Niennas, in all sizes and colors and let his own prayer lift up. She is ours now. Send her home, please. We need her.
"She does not feel like she is suffering, children. That is something. Perhaps Adar is right, we only need to wait," Legolas echoed Thranduil. He tried to believe it, for all their sakes.
In their room he set her down on her pallet, where she lay unmoving. The Ellyn did their best to keep the nighttime routine somewhat normal, until Ginnar finally slept. The elves were in the habit of being fully awake a few hours after that, engaged in quiet games or tasks. It had taken Thranduil a while, but he'd finally convinced Angharad she liked chess.
But that night she was not interested in any quiet diversions. She lay on her side, chewing on her lip and watching Lossrilleth's still face.
"Ada, we could try to help her. Like you helped me the first night here," Angharad suggested, trying to think of anything she could do. She scooted closer to her mother, lifting a limp over herself until she was cuddled against her.
"You get on the other side," she bossed Legolas. It seemed like coming up with an idea was helping Angharad at least. Who knew if it did anything for Lossrilleth.
"Alright," he agreed. He moved his pallet to her other side and pushed it flush, lying behind his wife and reaching an arm over both his ellith.
"I was thinking about how she was when I found her. She was like this then, too. She woke up after a day or so, in Elrond's healing room. Or so I learned later," Legolas whispered to Angharad.
"Just like this? She did not fall this time," the girl mused. "And then you did not speak to each other for a hundred years, right? And then you danced and you knew right away," she prompted Legolas. She loved her parent's story. It was comforting to hear it again now.
"It was a pleasant dance, yes. You make it sound as if I was looking for silver rings the next day, nettë. Surely you know we were more dignified than that," he teased his daughter a little. But he was taking in the smell of spring flowers that always followed Lossrilleth. It was as pleasing now as it had been then. She had to come back. She couldn't go too. It would be too cruel of the world.
Thranduil let out a quiet snort. "They think they were more dignified than that, maybe," he whispered for Angharad's benefit. "All the rest of Valinor knew what was going to happen long before you naneth dragged them South into the dream lands."
Angharad smiled and squeezed her mother. She'd felt so present lately, somehow. This was too different. She was still warm and smelled like herself, but it was as though something essentially Lossrilleth was not in the room.
"Tell me again," she asked. "And don't leave anything good out. You have to tell it like she does – with the spooky dogs and the snake beast and the horse with the horn."
Legolas had to smile at that. Lossrilleth had gotten very good at dramatic retellings of that part of their journey for the young people who were in on the truth.
"Alright, Angharad, just promise me if you drift off, do not fight it. Getting no rest will help no one," Legolas replied.
When Lossrilleth returned to reality, she had expected to feel a jolt. Instead, she woke up sandwiched between her two favorite people, feeling warm and sleepy. Legolas was talking about her. She felt such love and such sadness emanating off them both. Angharad's head was tucked under her mother's chin; her small arm rested under Lossrilleth's. Legolas was behind her, holding them both. Lossrilleth held still while her mind adjusted.
"… it had been hours. I had been sitting there with Gandalf, with nothing to do but wait. We did not know how we would know if she would come back at all. But then something started moving on the causeway and we could see her walking back. She was all in white – I could hardly believe she was real. But then – "
"Ada, tell the part about what she did for you, but I know what comes next. Skip the kissing, it is so gross," Angharad said with distate.
"No, do not skip that. It is my favorite part," Lossrilleth whispered.
"Nana!" Angharad exclaimed, forgetting she wasn't supposed to wake Ginnar. The dwarf snorted in his sleep and rolled over.
Legolas leaned forward and kissed his wife's hair. "You came back again. Thank the One," he said.
Lossrilleth grimaced, but he did not see it. "Always. Whatever it takes," she reassured her family, squeezing Angharad tightly. She turned her head as best she could to look at Legolas.
"I should have known," he replied.
"I am sorry, my loves," Lossrilleth whispered. She felt terribly guilty. She had had no idea what she was bringing down on herself. She found that much of what she had seen was so completely forbidden from being shared that she could not speak or send any word or image of it to anyone. When she tried to talk, no noise came out of her mouth.
Eru had become frustrated with her repeated pushing against the bounds set to keep the plan for Arda in place. They were sympathetic to the boy's plight and struck a compromise out of that care. But Lossrilleth could not be allowed to be so defiant every time something happened that she did not like. It was true, they were not her creator in the way they were with the others, but she had sworn fealty to them. And yet when it suited her, she still felt she knew as well as they did. She knew better than anyone else in Arda who they were and what they knew, and it made her too bold. The sentence Eru gave her for her insolence was the burden of more knowledge, since she thought she knew so much.
They had guided her mind along the vast, shifting symphony that was the future of Arda. The future was delicate, intricate, and vulnerable. She had yielded and begged to be released long before the end, well humbled, and reminded once again that she did not desire the powers or responsibilities of gods.
As her family had gathered around her, recalling her early days in Eru's world, the great being's displeasure eased. They had brought her here after all, feeling tickled that this world had been found by another from far away. She had not even asked for it, and she had given up what she'd had to in order to stay. She appeared to have received an adequate warning now that excessive interactions with the divine were not to be expected at her pleasure. They let her go, placing her mind gently back where it now belonged.
"What happened?" Legolas asked her, still feeling very concerned.
"I have been praying hard that we might be allowed take Ginnar home ourselves," Lossrilleth said hoarsely. "I have been reminded of my place. If I speak with a god directly even once more before the Second Singing it will be too soon. Do not ask me to say more, I cannot." She shuddered, prompting both her husband and her daughter to hold her tighter.
"I have an answer to that question, at the least," she told them. "It depends on how quickly we could get to Aglarond. We have a deadline. If we are not back in Valinor within a year from the next equinox, we will suffer the doom of all elves who refuse to leave Middle Earth. This must not happen," she said gravely.
She shuddered, remembering what she had been shown. She cared for the boy, but she would not allow her daughter to suffer that fate. Brigid, that good and trustworthy woman of faith, was in Anfalas. If the timing was too close when they passed Southern Gondor, they would have to leave Ginnar with her and give whatever wealth they had left as payment for her to take him home. They could write to Farren and Amity begging their assistance as well if need be.
Thranduil was shaking his head in horror, eyes wide. He and many of his Silvan folk had once resolved to stay in Middle Earth forever, even if only as spirits. There had been some resentment about being ordered to leave the only home they'd ever known to be restricted to a single island they knew nothing about, packed in with every kind of elf that lived.
But when the first elves had faded and their pitiful souls could be felt wandering about, sadly sighing words that no one could quite catch, those that remained had quickly changed their tune. They fled Middle Earth as swiftly as arrangements could be made.
"Perhaps we should leave immediately," the old king told them. "We could go tomorrow."
Legolas and Lossrilleth were sitting up again to huddle closer with Thranduil so they could discuss this very urgent information. Angharad sat with her parents, listening quietly as the adults decided what to do. She found it was a relief not to have to have an opinion. This time solving the problem wasn't her responsibility. She trusted them to help her friend and their family.
"The next equinox is in three or four weeks, I believe. It took us a year to get here from Eryn Lasgalen, without horses for the first leg, and we lost time because we did not pay attention to the nautical charts in the Princess's materials until it was far too late. Let us not make the same errors again and we may hope to make it with time to spare. We must plan our route with care, though. The pass will open within a week, I think. It will be safer for us all to cross it then, when the ice has finished melting. A broken leg could be a disaster now," Legolas argued.
"I agree," Lossrilleth said. "Let us prepare to depart as soon as the pass is safe. In the meantime, we must study our maps. We cannot improvise so much this time. It is possible, but not at all certain, that we could arrive in Southern Gondor with enough time to spare to go to Aglarond and back. I do not think we should try unless there are at least two months before the equinox when we reach the Bay of Belfalas."
"More than two months," Legolas said. Under no circumstance would he allow them all to be parted in this way. He started thinking about that canal again, hoping the snake woman's people could confirm it as a good path. If he understood the map correctly and the snow melted soon, he thought they could reach the Bay of Belfelas with as many as four months to spare. That might be enough time to risk bringing Ginnar home, he thought. He had come to feel as badly for the dwarf as he did for his own daughter. It pained him to imagine the boy left with yet another new adult who he would have to come to trust.
Thranduil listened to this discussion with a grimace. "I do not think we should try to go to Aglarond in any circumstance. Too many things could delay us between the sea and the Glittering Caves. Do not forget we still have a concerning vision hanging over our heads. I agree that rushing too much now may cost us time later. But make no mistake, it is time for us to fly."
(~***~)
