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Chapter Thirty-One
SUMMARY: As Ecthelion and his family wrap up their visit to the North, Bard is worried, and comes to a reluctant decision. Fortunately, there is another way. Will he agree to it?
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"Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl,
and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering."
– Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
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City of Dale, 22nd of June 2946 T.A.
As the tindómë approached, the warm, golden fingers of sunrise lit the horizon, thus ending the Silent Vigil.1 For the world of Men, The Gates of Summer was a time to rejoice in the light of the Longest Day. For the Elves of the North, it was a chance to revel in the Shortest Night, for it was during the brief twilight of the Silent Vigil that the enchantment of the stars was most powerful. Many preferred the energy and optimism of the Yestarë, when Dale celebrates the first day of spring, and while the Elvenking did enjoy the annual feast, his favorite festival will always be the Tarnin Austa. 2, 3
To a lesser degree, the Men of Dale enjoyed inner renewal as well. It all depended upon what one brought into the experience: some came back to themselves at sunrise with tears of joy on their faces. Others were troubled, for their Vigil was a reflection of their inner selves and what needed to change to bring them peace. Still others who struggled throughout the year, might find solutions they had been searching for, thus renewing their hope for a better future.
With a satisfied sigh, the Elvenking opened his eyes and blew out the silver lamp that was given to him on his first Vigil. Across the hillside, other lamps went dark as the celebrants came out of their reverie. He cast a surreptitious glance toward Ecthelion and his family. Throughout their visit, Thranduil saw in Ecthelion's fëa the twin worries of leadership and expectation, plus the sorrow of a beloved father, weakened with old age. This morning, much of his cares had lifted, dropping years from his appearance. Nienor was sniffling and wiping her eyes as she leaned her head on her husband's shoulder. Annael was doing the same to her husband Halmir, who was still in a daze. Fíriel blinked her wide eyes and held her stomach, still dazzled by the experience.
Denethor ran his fingers through his hair as he looked at the ground in front of him. For the first time since he'd arrived the walls of self-protection were gone. Thranduil searched the boy's fëa, and what he found moved him to pity.
He held up his arms and shouted, "Behold, the dawn! Let us stand and face the east while my people sing the Song of Morning, as they have done for seven thousand years." 4 He lifted his palms to the sky and sang as the rising sun cast a rosy hue across the clear morning sky.
The words of the Lírë Amaurëa wove through his fëa like a golden thread, enhancing what was good and worthy, while distracting the eye from what flaws remained. The flaws wouldn't stay hidden—of course they wouldn't. But for just a few moments, Thranduil could wonder at the beauty of his own fëa without arrogance, and be free of the burdens that came with his role in this world.
When the singing ended, the last note floated like a gossamer feather into the air, drifting away into nothing. A collective sigh rose from the crowd, followed by quiet chatter as they reluctantly gather their things and return to daily life.
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888
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2nd of July 2944 T.A.
After the Tarnin Austa celebrations, Thranduil hosted the future Steward's family in the Woodland Realm for an entire week, with Galion and Legolas by his side. He and Ecthelion spent their mornings on the meandering paths of the King's Garden. Here, within the high walls, the Gondorian revealed his private worries, and sought the Elvenking's counsel.
"Sauron is now in my territory, Thranduil," Ecthelion rubbed his forehead. "I fear the same evil that cursed your forest will steal all hope from my people before the Final War even begins."
"I can commiserate," Thranduil sat down on a nearby bench and motioned for Ecthelion to join him. "One of the first things that the Dark Lord accomplished when he arrived in Dol Guldur was to murder my wife. This caused a tailspin of grief that he used to his own benefit."
"I was sorry to read about that."
"Thank you," he inclined his head politely. "What is not well-known is that Sauron failed in his ultimate goal."
"Which was?"
"To capture my infant son, turn him into a thrall and use him to destroy my Kingdom from the inside out."
Ecthelion huffed out a long breath, hardly able to absorb that news. "How did you learn this?"
"Mírelen told me in a vision." Thranduil gave Ecthelion a cynical smile. "I am glad I did not know this until recently, because I probably would have locked my son in the Palace and never let him out."
"I don't blame you," Ecthelion's eyes rounded in empathy. "Do you think I should be worried for Denethor?"
"I do not foresee Denethor's physical kidnapping, but one does not need to use violence to destroy a Kingdom. Seeds are being planted in Gondor that could mean grave consequences for her future." He gave the Man a meaningful look. "I am sure you can guess who I speak of."
"I do," Ecthelion's lips pursed in frustration. "What can I do? If I try to forbid Denethor from talking to his grandfather, it will only make him seek him out furtively."
"Your father-in-law's rigidity comes from a position of fear. For living things to survive, they must be willing to adapt to the conditions which prevail, but there is always a faction who resists." Thranduil said. "Whether or not Anárion is truly fearful is anyone's guess, though I suspect not." He shifted to face Ecthelion. "It was only three years ago since Mithrandir rescued your father and destroyed the thralls that Sauron had planted in your Council." 5
"For which I will be forever grateful. But I would think that if Anárion was also under the Dark Lord's influence, he'd have ended up over that cliff, too."
"Of that, I have no doubt." He shifted to face Ecthelion. "Might I speak frankly?"
"Please."
"The morning of the Tarnin Austa I saw a deep unhappiness in your son's fëa. He is intimidated by your success and popularity, as well as that of Turgon's. I admit that I have limited experience raising boys, but I have seen the same doubt in our Bain."
"I felt this when I was their age."
"I am glad you understand. Our boys have much in common; their lives are set, and they know the roles they must play. What is different in our case is Lord Percy. He is a grandfather to the children, in every way that counts, and just loves them. Bain knows he can confide in him about things he would hesitate to talk to us about. Bard and I feel good knowing Percy will offer unconditional love and support, and will not contradict what we are trying to teach him. The 'Kinging' lessons, he leaves to the parents." He huffed a laugh. "We teach him tradition and etiquette and weaponry, while Percy makes sure he knows how to whistle with a blade of grass, and make farting noises with his armpits."
Ecthelion sputtered and his shoulders shook with quiet laughter. "My grandfather was like that with me."
"I know," Thranduil grinned. "Turin had a delightful sense of humor. But my point is, Percy supports Bain with no strings attached, with no expectations. Every child needs someone like that. Turgon is frail, which is no one's fault, and it is only natural for Denethor to look to his other grandfather. The problem is I believe, and Mithrandir has seen for himself, that Anárion is using Denethor's vulnerability for his own purposes, and has taught the boy to crave his grandfather's approval, and withholds it to make him want it even more. This can be a dangerous thing, especially for a future ruler of Gondor.
"Do you remember the history of Númenor, when Sauron persuaded them to worship Melkor?" 6
"Are you saying Anárion—"
"I am saying no such thing. But let us consider how this cult got started, Ecthelion: it began with whispers. The seeds. It was such an insidious process that whispers became proclamations, which eventually became Truth. And as you know, truth is subjective."
"My father likes to say 'There is no such thing as truth.'"
"He is wise. Facts cannot be changed, but everything else is an opinion. As to Anárion, I leave that to you, your father, and the laws of your land. As to Denethor and his emotional health, might I offer a suggestion?"
"Of course."
"Why not begin Denethor's fostering now? The Prince of Dol Amroth would serve as a positive influence, and Adrahil could serve as a brother."
"Tradition dictates that we wait until Denethor turns twenty."
"A tradition is not a law," the corner of Thranduil's mouth curved upward as he half-shrugged. "And if it were, who is to prevent your father from changing it?"
Ecthelion's gaze turned skyward. "Roughly a third of his Council. My father-in-law will try and bully the rest them into supporting them."
"There is much to be said about respecting a Council's decisions, sometimes absolute rule can come in handy. Suppose Angelimir writes and requests his presence?"
"How would I do that? I will not lie to my father, nor to Denethor."
"Of course, you should not." Thranduil's thick brows raised with a knowing smile.
"You mean…" Ecthelion's eyes narrowed in amusement.
"Ah ah," Thranduil raised his hand. "Not another word."
"Lord Thranduil, you are as sly as a snake," Ecthelion offered his hand, and they clasped wrists, "but I like that about you."
Just as the future Steward had impressed the three Kings of the North, his wife shone in her own right. Nienor was devoted to her husband, and for this, Thranduil was pleased. He didn't need his foresight to know that this good Lady would play a vital role in readying Gondor for war.
While Ecthelion's focus was shoring up his country's resources and strengthening their borders, Nienor tasked herself with uniting the people behind her husband's cause through good health and education. Throughout their stay, the Lady of Gondor spent days touring the schools and met several times with Lady Bronwyn, Mistress of Schools while they discussed curriculum and teaching philosophies. She applauded the idea that children should learn the languages of neighboring countries, and though she was surprised at the suggestion of a rudimentary knowledge of Orc-speech, in the context of military defense, she approved, though it gave her the shivers.
Nienor also gifted Dale with the entire collection of schoolbooks used in the schools of Gondor. A formal ceremony was held, complete with speeches and songs by the children, and they were given a place of honor on the shelves of the new Dale Library.
Princess Annael spent her time with the Elven healers. Hareth came down with the sniffles and Daeron was summoned to heal the ear infection that was brewing. Nienor was so impressed that she gave her daughter the job of touring the Healing Halls and speaking extensively with Ermon, Elénaril and Daeron, as well as speaking with mothers in Dale and in the Woodland Realm to learn about common childhood diseases.
Rhian and Annael hit it off so well that she invited them to a relaxing, child-free evening.
"I love my baby," Annael said, "but it's nice to have a real, grown-up conversation, isn't it?"
"It really is," Rhian laughed. "I worked part time for Hilda when Darryn was a baby, and I think it kept me sane."
"I heard you had a hard time giving birth," Annael's brow furrowed.
"Now that's a story," Rhian winced, then briefly gave an account of Darryn's birth.
Daeron saved our lives, and I'll always be grateful, but I had no idea how much it cost him. He had to be put into a healing sleep to recover. 7 I don't remember the birth, but when Lord Bard and Lord Thranduil brought the baby in to see me…"
"It's amazing how much you can fall in love in a second," Annael said, dreamily. "And how you can't recall a life before they came."
"It's the same for fathers," Halmir smiled.
"That's true, but blood doesn't always make a family," Rhian added. "I'll never forget Daeron's face when he first saw our son. He and I weren't together, not yet, but his face lit up like the sun."
"Aww…" Annael smiled. "Thank the Valar Gandalf came to Gondor before Hareth was born! Our midwives think your ideas about sanitation are just rumors. And they also think we should be confined to our room with the windows closed."
"What did Mithrandir do?" Daeron asked.
"Oh, he put the fear of Melkor into Lady Ingiel, made her scrub down the entire room and open the windows. My head hurt after weeks of living in the dark, but it was worth it! He wasn't there when Hareth was born—he flew off on one of the Eagles a week before, but thanks to him, and didn't have any sort of fever after." 8
"I faced the same opposition when I first came to Old Dale," Daeron said. "It took a few years to turn that around, but no one could argue with the success rate. Do you plan to train as a Healer?"
"I'd like to. Grandfather Anárion shouts about tradition and 'knowing one's place,' but I will not sit around and be waited on hand and foot while I stuff myself with sweets until a grow fat."
"If you would excuse me for just a moment," Daeron wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table. He returned with three heavy books. "Lord Elrond had commissioned me to write these. I would be honored if you would accept them as a gift." 9
"Lord Elrond himself?" Annael's eyes bulged as she thumbed through the pages. "Oh! And he has written the forward! Have you ever met him in person?"
"I have had the honor while in Lothlórien. He and some of his people came to stay in Dale for a few months. It was during that time I collaborated with him extensively, as did Princess Sigrid. It was a busy, but fulfilling time."
Rhian rubbed his arm. "When he says busy, he meant it," she told Annael. "We barely saw him, and that wasn't easy, but what else could he do?"
"What Rhian means is that I allowed myself to become overtired, and did not see that Rhian had some problems of her own."
"But we worked through it, babe," she leaned over and kissed him.
"The important thing to learn, My Lady," Daeron grew serious, "is not to allow the urgency of your chosen occupation to make you neglect your family. I had been a gifted Healer for almost two thousand years, and at the time had only been married a few months. I did not understand the importance of balance."
"I'll try and remember that," Annael nodded seriously. "Halmir tells me his men are enjoying the gaming tables in the Inn."
"So I have heard," Daeron chuckled softly. "Bofur and his friends have cleaned up in cards."
"And don't forget the stir they've caused the women here," Rhian giggled. "I overheard Rod threatening his daughter not to fall in love with one of them, or he'll lock her in her room!"
"Are you trying to tell me something?" Daeron's brows lowered in a mock scowl.
"Oh, I'll admit they're a lot of fun to look at, but their hair isn't nearly as nice as yours," Rhian fluttered her eyelashes. "I think I'll stick with my Elf."
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26th of July 2946 T.A.
It was with heavy hearts that the Kings and their family gathered on the dais of Garon's Castle as they bid their friends from Minas Tirith a fond farewell. There were handshakes and hugs and promises to write, Ecthelion helped his wife get into their carriage and their escort gave them the order to move out.
The rest of the family went inside, but Bard lingered until the last horse disappeared from view.
"Meleth nîn?" Thranduil came up behind him and grasped his shoulder. "I think it was a success."
"I do, too," Bard said thoughtfully. "Do you think the war will come in Ecthelion's time?"
"I do not. For good or for ill, I see the fate of the White City will resting Denethor's shoulders."
"Shit," Bard's shoulders slumped.
"Indeed," Thranduil came closer and wrapped his arms around Bard's waist. "But all we can do is our best. The rest we must leave to the Valar. We might avert disaster if Ecthelion manages to remove Anárion's influence."
"Will it help?"
"I wish I could tell you," Thranduil said softly, kissing Bard behind his ear. "But that is a worry for another time. Come, let us, as you say, 'get back to normal.'"
At dinner that night, Bard announced a decision he'd been wrestling with for over a week.
"I'm not going to the Wedding," Bard said. "Dale is too new; I don't think it's right to make Daín look after the entire North for two-and-a-half months."
"He looked after things when we were hurt during the Long Winter," Thranduil reminded him.
"Yes, but the key word here is 'winter.' We all know Orc and Bandit activity slows down with the snow. Plus, we were only really getting started back then. Now there's so much going on, and Legolas will be busy at the Palace looking after your Kingdom—"
"I can do it."
Everyone's heads turned and gave Bain a wide-eyed stare. "I can do it," the boy repeated. "I've spent my summers working with you and Ada, Rhys's Da already said he'd help since he and the rest of the Council are staying anyway. Tauriel is here, too, and if I really get in over my head, Uncle Daín or Legolas can come."
"But—" Bard's mouth opened and closed as he struggled. "But you're just—"
"'A boy?' No, I'm not, Da. I'm about to turn eighteen, and get my Princely Crown in October. I can do this!"
"Do you not want to see the Lothlórien with us?" Thranduil asked. "I would hate for you to miss it."
"I have an idea about that," the boy raised his forefinger in the air, then turned to address the Elvenking. "Why not make Lothlórien one of the places for me to foster? You and Da want me to have the chance to see and experience the world, and if the Lord and Lady are willing, I'd be honored to go with the Guardians for a year."
Bard exchanged a look with his husband. "What do you think?"
"I think Bain would be safer in Lothlórien than any other place in Middle Earth."
"Tauriel?" Bard jerked his chin towards her. "Did you know about this?"
"Bain spoke to me at length," she admitted. "I will be happy to assist him in whatever needs done, but of course, the final decision is up to you."
"But what about Daín?"
"Oh, I've already asked him, and he likes the idea," Bain said. "He even volunteered to have Balin come to stay, along with some of the original company as a reminder to outsider." He leaned forward and spoke in earnest. "Please, Da? I really want to do this."
A heavy silence fell upon the room. Tauriel and her sisters kept their eyes on their plates and waited. Hilda wrung her hands, but didn't say a word. Percy put his arm around her and nodded his silent approval. Thranduil sat back with a small smile, as Bard rubbed his temples and considered.
Finally, he said. "This could be a good thing. From today until we leave, you'll spend it with me while I go over everything, all right? It's a lot of work, and most if it's tedious." Bard's features sharpened. "I want a bird from you every three days, do you hear? And I'm telling Daín that if there's even a hint of trouble he's to come here and assume command of the city, do you understand?"
Bain bounced to his feet with a joyous shout. "Thank you, Da!"
Bard gave his son a wry smile. "Don't thank me yet; you might feel differently by the time I get back."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Lírë Amaurëa – (Q.) Song of Sunrise, sung only on the morning after the summer solstice.
Tarnin Austa – (Q.) Gates of Summer
Tindómë – (Q.) the time near dawn
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NOTES:
1 Tindómë is a Quenya name for the twilight of dawn, called minuial in Sindarin.
"The Eldar paid special attention to the 'twilight' (in the northerly regions), chiefly as the times of star-fading and star-opening. They had many names for these periods, of which the most usual were tindómë and undómë; the former most often referred to the time near dawn, and undómë to the evening. The Sindarin name was uial, which could be defined as minuial and aduial."
Tolkien, J.R.R.. The Return of the King: Being the Third Part of the Lord of the Rings . Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Kindle Edition.
2 Yestarë, meaning "First-day", was the name used in the Elves' calendars, and those derived from them, for the first day of the year. It was the first day of spring and the renewal of nature. /wiki/Yestar
3 "Tarnin Austa (meaning "Gates of Summer") was held on the first day of summer. It was custom to begin a solemn ceremony at midnight, continuing it until dawn of Tarnin Austa. No-one could speak from midnight to daybreak, but upon the rising of the Sun they would burst into ancient songs, with choirs standing upon the eastern wall. At that time the city was filled with silver lamps, and lights of jeweled colors hung on the branches of the new-leaved trees." - J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien (ed.), The Book of Lost Tales Part Two, pp. 172, 211, 34 /wiki/Gates_of_Summer
4 Just to add a bit of trivia here, King Turgon's sword was called Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, which is now in the possession of Gandalf the Grey. /wiki/Turgon
5 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 49: /works/14127870/chapters/38866184
6 In S.A. 3261 Ar-Pharazôn sailed to Middle-earth to defeat a resurgent Sauron. Seeing the might of Númenor, Sauron submitted to the king's authority, and he was brought back to Númenor as a hostage. By that time, however, the Drúedain of Númenor had sensed a coming darkness and all of them had abandoned the island for Middle-earth.[4] Sauron soon became an adviser to the King as Tar-Mairon, and promised the Númenóreans eternal life if they worshipped Melkor. Under the counsel of Sauron, the Númenoreans became even more warlike, hunting the Men of Middle-earth and enslaving them, Ar-Pharazôn had a five hundred feet temple to Melkor erected, in which the enslaved Men were sacrificed.
During this time, the white tree Nimloth the Fair, whose fate was said to be tied to the line of kings, was chopped down and burned as a sacrifice to Melkor. Risking his life, Isildur rescued a fruit of the tree, preserving the ancient line of trees. /wiki/Numenor#War_with_Sauron
7 What Makes a King, Ch. 29: /works/10838010/chapters/26920293
8 Sweet Child of Mine, Ch. 17: /works/26090521/chapters/79447126
9 Legolas, Ion nîn, Ch. 25: /works/17088320/chapters/44623087
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