Chapter Thirty-Five

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SUMMARY: So, Vildan woke from his mysterious, er…nap, and had a hard time believing Elladan's tale. But, since he is finally, finally pain free, he'll take it.

But he knows he needs to get away from Rivendell. Too much has happened for him to ever find peace there. Elrond wants him to have some time to adjust, so he tells his boys to take Vildan and Melui to the one place in Middle Earth that has a chance to bring the poor Ellon some peace.

Unfortunately, no one told him the Lord and Lady have guests, and Vildan sees and certain blonde warrior-king up ahead.

Uh oh…

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"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."

– Dr. Seuss

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Rivendell, 22nd of August 2946 T.A.

When Vildan finally awoke in his bed, it had taken some fast talking by both Elladan and Elrohir to convince Vildan that his unexpected nap had actually lasted ten hours. When they told him of their adventure atop Inglor's Tower, Lord Elrond himself had to be summoned for him to believe the tale to be true.

Vildan couldn't quite believe his new, pain-free state, either. He just couldn't trust it, and was terrified something would happen and he'd be as bad off, or worse as before.

Elrond must have shared his anxiety, for he prescribed bedrest for at least two days. That was fine; Vildan needed time to let it all sink in. He stared at his legs for hours, reacquainting the parts of his body, reminding himself that those appendages were not strangers, nor were they malevolent torture devices.

Cringing at first, Vildan tentatively wiggled his toes, and waited for the lightning bolts of agony that made him grit his teeth hard enough to break every molar in his mouth.

But it didn't come. Nor did the pain come, when he did it again, then ten more times, then a hundred and, at last, it finally sank in.

He immediately burst into tears. Elladan rushed into his room and held him as he wept. Melui wiggled into the mix and kissed his wet cheeks over and over until his tears stopped flowing and he could smile. For the next week, Melui was his most devoted attendant, as she snuggled into his side and wouldn't leave, which was fine, because he couldn't stand to have her out of his sight.

For the first time in almost a year, Vildan was able to genuinely enjoy his child. They cuddled and talked and sang and bonded. Meássë and Narseg was a frequent topic, as well as all her adventures with Estel while Vildan had been in his long sleep. More tears were shed, from joy and sadness, but, as Elrond is fond of saying, "not all tears are evil." These tears washed away some of the stain of Vildan's wounded fëa, leaving what remained to be worn as much as they could by time.

After Melui was asleep, Vildan and Elladan sat and talked long into the night. His friend wisely—and shockingly—didn't press Vildan one way or another as to what he wanted to do next, though when Vildan gazed upon his friend in the soft golden glow of the lamps, it wasn't hard to tell the thoughts that were shouting inside Elladan's head.

"I cannot stay here," Vildan reluctantly admitted on the third night.

"I know," Elladan nodded. "Will you sail, after all?"

"Melui wants to stay." He rested his elbows on the arms of this chair and steepled his fingers. "Oh, she has not come out and said it outright, but she chatters on about things she plans to do, and places she wants me to take her."

"Really?" Elladan seemed genuinely surprised, which, in turn, surprised Vildan.

"You are not behind all that?" he challenged, as his eyebrow shot up in a half-scolding stare.

"Believe me, I wanted to," Elladan chuckled. "But my father expressly forbade it, and he warned me that he will be watching. Whether you stay or go, must be a choice you make freely, Vildan."

"All I know is that Imladris carries too many ghosts." His throat thickened. "Everywhere I look, I see my parents and my sister, and all the times we shared while I was growing up. It is too much, Mellon nîn. It pains me to say this, but I do not think I can remain here and be happy. At least not for a long time. The problem is, I do not know if I should go North, at least just yet." Vildan let out a frustrated sigh. "I make no sense to myself; how can I expect you to understand what I cannot?"

"Are you afraid?"

"I…simply do not know." He unfolded his hands and rubbed his jaw.

"Vildan, maybe you are considering too much too soon," Elladan straightened. "I have an idea."

"Oh, no…"

"Now be nice!" Elladan chided him. "You are sitting there today because of my bright ideas, so do not be too hasty to discount it."

"Fine," Vildan pursed his lips. "What?"

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13th of September 2946 T.A.

Welcome, son of Valendil, a soft, feminine voice spoke in Vildan's dream. We have been expecting you.

He fought his way to the warm surface of wakefulness, and slowly opened his eyes to the waving branches of the tree that had offered their party shelter for the night. Its leaves were still mostly green, with just a hint of the gold around the edges that will soon saturate it—and its brothers—in the coming weeks.

The ground upon which he was blanketed with tiny white jewels of dew that sparkled in the early morning sun. His tightly woven cloak had served to protect him from any dampness, as well has kept both him and his niece warm during their travels over the Redhorn pass.

"Tôrano Vida!" A small hand pulled off his blanket and wiggled his foot. "It is time to wake up!" She crawled up beside him and smooshed his cheeks. "She says to come."

"Who says?"

"The pretty Elleth."

Vildan shot up into a sitting position, eyes wide. "You saw her?" he looked around as he scrambled to his feet. "Where?"

The Elfling pointed to her forehead, her blue eyes crossing. "In my head. She has hair like me!"

"Dailên," Elladan approached, fully dressed and holding out a leaf-wrapped Lembas cake and a cup of strong tea. "Did you know that the Lord and Lady are my grandparents?"

The child's mouth formed an astonished O. "They are?"

"They are. And my sister Arwen lives there. Would you like to meet her?"

Melui's head slammed up and down with emphatic assent.

"Then tell your lazy Tôrano Vida to get moving. Haldir and his escort will meet us at the gates in four hours."

Melui whipped her head around and opened her mouth to shout at Vildan, but he had already left the area to take care of personal necessities and wash in the nearby stream.

Twenty minutes later, they were astride their horses, and Elrohir took the first shift with Melui. It wasn't that she was a heavy or awkward burden; it was that the Elfling, as cute as she was, possessed an insatiable curiosity that demanded constant attention. It was decided that each would take turns carrying the child in front of him, while the other two flanked them on the left and right.

Melui was enchanted with this new, giant world that featured heavily in the stories told her by Vida and the sons of Elrond. Her head whirled from right to left and up and down as she pointed at something and demanded that they tell her about it. What bird is that? Where do rabbits live? And foxes? Why are their tales so bushy? The deer are very nice, but it's not fair that the Ellons have those nice horns but—

"Ellons are male Elves, sweetling," Elrohir interrupted her. "Those are called stags in Westron."

"Stags." She swirled the word around in her mouth. "What is the word in Sindarin?"

"Aras."

"Aras," she repeated. "What about Quenya?"

"Arassë."

That was too much of a mouthful for such a little tongue, but Melui did her best. Eventually she gave up and said. "Who decided it had to be called that?"

"I am not sure," Elrohir told her. "Legend has it that my Uncle Finrod was the one who taught the Edain of Middle Earth to speak. He was my grandmother's brother."

"So, she has an uncle like me?"

"No, child. I am the one who has the uncle."

Her forehead scrunched as she tried to work that out. "She has no uncles at all?"

"She does—"

"But you said she did not."

"What I mean was that I was only talking about Haruni's uncles. Her parents were Finarfin and Indis, which would be my great-grandparents. 1 Finarfin had three brothers: Fëanor, who is a half-uncle, then Fingolfin and Findis, and a sister called Írimë. She is not called an uncle, but an aunt."

"Why?"

"I—" Elrohir tucked his lips under and counted to ten. Then he called out to Elladan, "Gwanunig, it is your turn!"

Lothlórien, 13th of September 2946 T.A.

Two days after the gathering at the Mirror, Elrond sent word that, against all odds, Vildan appeared to be well again. A few days after that, Elladan wrote and asked if they could bring him and his small niece to the Golden Wood and hopefully, the poor Vanguard might enjoy a bit of respite. Of course, the answer was yes, and when Celeborn informed his dear cousin of the expected visit, Thranduil was understandably anxious.

Bard relaxed on the bed of their room with a book, while Thranduil paced.

"What does Vildan want?" he asked.

"We'll have to wait until he gets here and find out." Bard said.

"What if Vildan never wants to come back to Dale?" the Elvenkings hands were clasped behind his back as he shuffled back and forth. "What if he does not love Tauriel anymore? What do I say to her?"

"Absolutely nothing. At least not right away," Bard said calmly as he turned a page. "Vildan needs to either write her or go to Dale and see her face-to-face. We," he added are going to stay out of it and let them work it out themselves."

"How can I do that? She is my daughter!"

"Our daughter," Bard held up a finger. "Who, I might add, is completely grown and is capable of handling her life as she sees fit."

Thranduil stopped and put his hands on his hips. "And what if he does neither? Have you thought of that?"

"In that case, we send Legolas and six other Guardians to beat him to a pulp," Bard said, not taking is eyes from the page. "Then they'll drag him to Palace before your scary-looking throne and face his sentence."

This seemed to mollify the great warrior-king. "You areworried, as well," he sniffed. "I can sense it."

"Yes and no," Bard put a ribbon on the page he was reading and closed the book. "We only interfere when there is no other option. Does that make you feel better?"

"Not very much," Thranduil chewed his lower lip. "Still, it is a plan."

"It is." Bard smiled at him.

Thranduil still had those worry lines between his brows. He didn't even try to hide his sigh.

"What is it now?"

"What if he does love Tauriel?" Thranduil came over and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Bard. "What if they want to marry?"

"Then, as the fathers of the bride, we will do three things."

"Which are?" The blonde Elf turned to face him, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

"Show up," Bard smiled, took his hand and kissed it. "Pay up," he kissed it again. "And shut up."

"That is all?"

"Yep. Let the women handle it."

"What do we do in the meantime?"

"Sneak off to the Long Lake. If," Bard warned, "and I do mean if, there is going to be a wedding. If not, we'll still stay out of the way."

"Bard, you do not understand. I am a King! Am I not supposed to—"

"Nope."

"But—"

"Absolutely not." Bard leaned against the headboard and studied his Elf. "Whatever happens, you aren't going to lose Tauriel. Do you understand that?"

Thranduil leaned forward and scrubbed his face. "My head knows that, but my heart is afraid," he whispered. "It has been a thousand years since I have felt part of a family. It has been only five years since Tauriel and I have grown close, and just two since Legolas came home." He moved next to Bard, who gathered him close and stroked his hair. "I have everything an Elf, or a Man, or even a Dwarf could possibly want, Meleth nîn; why do things have to change so soon?"

"I'm nervous about it, too." Bard admitted, kissing the top of his head. "I'm also a little surprised. I expected you to be upset when Sigrid got married, and to pitch and absolute fit when Tilda—"

"No!" Thranduil squeezed his eyes shut, "Do not say it."

"Silly Elf," he chuckled softly. "Don't you see? We'll never lose them. Well, we could lose them if we try and overmanage their lives. But you're much too smart to do that. And look: our family will only grow bigger. We'll get new sons and daughters, and, Valar willing, the Castle will be crawling with babies. Why is that such a bad thing?"

The Elvenking stopped plucking at Bard's tunic and lifted his head. "I forgot about babies."

"Well, if you want them, you're going to have to let the kids get married, right?"

Thranduil flopped his head back down and threw his arm over Bard. "A wedding would be nice."

"It would. When and if the kids are ready. In the meantime, you'll have to borrow Darryn or Ermon's children to play with."

It seemed like centuries since Vildan had been in the Golden Wood. He tilted his head back, took a deep breath, and let the Mellyrn sing to his heart. They rode through a cathedral of high, arched trees with leaves that blocked out the sun. Yet the air was full of light, and smelled so sweet, that tension Vildan didn't know was there, gracefully flowed from his shoulders. The knotted ropes of grief were coming untied, and he could imagine a day when they would fall away, unheeded. Lothlórien was the sacred shelter from the ugliness of the world, and Galadriel was its keeper. She wrapped her people and all who possessed a noble heart in her arms to give them shelter, protection, and solace.

This.

This is exactly what he needed. Was it the magic here? Or was it simply the change of scenery? It was too soon to know, so it was best not to over-think it.

Melui was unusually quiet. Had she fallen asleep? He quickly looked down and saw that her eyes were not only open, but they were also wide with…reverence.

In the weeks since his recovery, he had begun to sense the power within her. The idea that it had come from Lusiël made him shudder. Until he calmed down and allowed himself to remember clearly and observe. Some of this he had felt with Lusiël, yes, but in Melui, there was a sense of rightness. Yes, that was the word. Much like the puzzles Melui liked to put together, these powers fit her perfectly, whereas in Lusiël, they couldn't quite manage it.

How much of that was due to Lusiël's choices or her twisted logic, none could be sure. Two weeks ago, a meeting had been called in Elrond's study, where he, along with the twins and Glorfindel discussed and agreed that Melui was given her gifts for a reason known only to the Valar, but that all would be revealed in the fullness of time. In the meantime, they were to trust, and keep faith.

Vildan leaned down and whispered, "Dailên, what do you think of the Lord and Lady's trees?"

Melui tilted her head and gave him a beatific smile that warmed him from his hair to the tips of his boots. "They like us."

"They are very special trees, Hênig. Did you know they came from Valinor?"

"They are very nice." Then her face turned somber. "But not now, Tôrano Vida."

"I know." He smiled down at her, and hugged her to him. I am sorry I tried to take you away, but I am glad we are here, too."

"She says to stay."

"Who, sweetling?"

"The Queen."

"Lady Galadriel is the Queen of Elves in Middle Earth."

Melui shook her head. "Not her."

And of that, Melui would say no more.

Haldir and his escort had reached the outskirts of Caras Galadhon, and the Marchwarden raised his hand to signal their arrival. Two Wardens raised their horns to their lips and blew four short blasts.

Just as the tall gates had opened and bade them enter at the border, so, too, did the immense, ornate gates silently part here. Haldir led them to the center of the forest floor, where the Lord and Lady, as well as several other faces were waiting to welcome them.

Ai… Lord Thranduil was here! Why did no one tell him?

He turned to his left and glared daggers at Elladan, who refused to meet his eyes.

"Tôrano?" Melui grabbed his hand and squeezed it with both of her own. "You are afraid."

"Y…yes, Dailên."

"Who is that?" she pointed to the tall, stern-faced Ellon who narrowed his eyes and stared at Vildan.

Thank the Valar Bard appeared to be more congenial.

Ai, gorgor…

"That is the King of the Woodland Realm, child," he croaked. "And he might not be happy to see me."

They continued their steady pace until they reached the gazebo where the royal rulers awaited them. Haldir ordered that they dismount, and several Wardens came to see to their horses and luggage.

"Welcome, son of Valendil," Galadriel said again, this time aloud. "We have been expecting you."

But before Vildan could respond, Melui pulled out of his grasped and approached the Lady of Light, whose eyes were wide as she stared at the child.

"Now I see," Galadriel murmured. She lifted her skirts and knelt on the ground before Melui so that they were eye-to-eye. "I wondered…"

"What do you mean, Meleth nîn?" Celeborn asked, puzzled.

"Lieutenant Vildan had no true need of us, my love," Galadriel rested her hand against Melui's cheek, and smiled. "This child possesses enough power to heal him all on her own."

As one, the crowd let out a gasp and instinctively took a step backward.

"Are you certain, Haruni?" Elrohir and his brother came to stand beside her.

Melui gave Galadriel a conspiratorial grin, which made the Lady laugh. Everyone else was too nervous to join in.

Still uneasy, Vildan came behind Melui and placed his hand protectively on her white-gold hair. "Can you explain, My Lady?"

Galadriel rose, looked deep into Vildan's eyes, and searched his heart for several long, uncomfortable minutes. It is well, Vanguard, came the voice in his mind. She opened her mouth and said, loud enough for all to hear, "Be patient, Lieutenant. Melui is young, and not entirely aware of herself. Yet this child knew enough not to heal you."

A low murmur tittered across the gathering.

"But why?" Vildan was shocked and a little angry.

"Because she needed to be here, and you needed to bring her," she gave him and her husband a serene smile. The Lord of Lórien glanced quickly between his wife and the small child.

"Mithrandir?" Thranduil turned to the Wizard on the other side of him. "Do you have any idea what all this is about?"

Mithrandir stepped forward and took Melui and Galadriel each by the hand and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he too joined in their secret gaiety.

Finally, Bard lost his patience. "Will somebody please tell me what's going on, here?"

"You see," the Wizard wiped his eyes. "It's true that Melui was given Lusiël's powers to perform and important task. We all assumed it would be many years from now. But it seems," he tousled the child's hair, and turned to Vildan. "The time has come, much sooner than we thought. Melui has the power to heal, but not for you."

"Who then?" Vildan asked, as everyone leaned in to hear the answer.

"Me." Galadriel said, her eyes sparkling as she beamed down at the Elfling. "Melui came to heal me!"

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Dailên – Little Beauty – Vildan's nickname for Melui

Gwanunig– Twin brother

Hariônnath – Grandsons (pl.)

Hervess nîn – my wife

Mellyrn – plural for Mallorn trees, that grow in Valinor and in Lothlórien.

Tôrano Vida – Uncle Vildan

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NOTES:

1 /wiki/Finarfin

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