Chapter Thirty-Six
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SUMMARY: In which we see the real reason why Melui came to Lothlorien. Then we see the other reason Vildan was brought here. And our newlyweds at last emerge from their honeymoon to visit with their friend, and offer Vildan some hope for the future.
Which is good, because there are two Da's who are anxious to find out what that future might be.
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"Love is a two-way street constantly under construction."
– Carroll Bryant
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Lothlórien, 14th of September 2946 T.A.
Since their arrival, Melui delighted the inhabitants of Caras Galadhon with her easy, innocent charm and her delightful smile. Yet, behind the childish whimsy was an aura of power that fascinated Thranduil. Bard decided it was mostly because she was small and cute and sweet. The Elfling took an instant liking to him, and the feeling was most decidedly mutual.
"Maybe you've been enchanted," Bard teased that morning, as they ate breakfast. "She's supposed to be some sort of sorceress, right?"
"Perhaps," Thranduil's mouth twitched. "But Melui might also be our future grandchild."
"I'd love that." Bard took Thranduil's hand. "I really would. But—"
"I know," the Elvenking's fork swirled through his eggs absently. "But we leave in four days, and I must speak with him about Tauriel and know his intentions." His face hardened slightly. "That is not interfering, Meleth nîn.
"I agree with you on that point," Bard replied. "But we will speak to him together. I won't let you push him, but Vildan needs to remember that Tauriel's got two Das that aren't about to let their daughter be toyed with."
"Exactly," Thranduil pursed his lips. "And he needs to know that I will tell her everything that Vildan has been through. She deserves nothing but the truth, and I would rather it come from us."
"What if he never comes to Dale?"
"Then I will do what you mentioned earlier, and send Legolas to, as you love to say, 'Beat the snot out of him.'"
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Lothlórien, 15th of September 2946 T.A.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," Bard whispered out of the side of his mouth to his husband.
"No bell," the Elvenking hissed back without moving his lips.
Once again, they were gathered in the Lady's Garden. The plinth bearing the pewter bowl stood empty, however, and the elegant pitcher sat unused.
Bard smiled at Vildan's protective hands on Melui's shoulders. Gandalf was speaking in a low, soothing tone to Vildan, and that seemed to appease him. Galadriel's attention was fixed upon the child, who seemed oblivious to the importance of this occasion. Bard didn't blame her, either, because he didn't have any notion how all this was supposed to happen. Was it to be some sort of transfer of magical power, leaving Melui a "normal" Elfling? Or did the Valar plan to let the child keep her powers for some sort of future event?
It took Bard back to his study two years ago when he was informed that Tilda was, er…blessed in a unique way.1 Not that he wasn't grateful to know that she could come with them to Valinor, and that she'd never be ill again. That was a joy, especially after Brain Fever left her damaged.2 Every time Bard saw their daughter scamper about with her friends, her cheeks a healthy pink with clear, shining eyes, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
It was the responsibility of such a blessing that made Bard's stomach churn. Just as this tiny blonde child—who didn't look to be any older than Darryn—was about to do something Bard didn't even think Thranduil was capable of, he found himself wondering what Tilda was going to have to do to repay the Valar's kindness? Would it take their Little Bean away from Dale and her people? Or worse, was it something life-threatening? The possibilities raced through his mind; at a speed that didn't make him happy.
Bard teased his Elf for his nervousness at the idea of the children growing and changing, but it seemed that he could be just as wary of the future.
"Meleth nîn?" Thranduil squeezed his hand as he leaned down to whisper in his ear. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he shook his head and plastered a smile on his face. "We'll talk later."
"Good. They are about to begin."
"What exactly are we supposed to do?"
To this Thranduil only shrugged.
Gandalf whispered something to the twins, and they moved to position themselves on either side of Vildan, easing him away from Melui. A small, square table was brought, so Melui could stand upon it and be at eye-level with Galadriel.
"You need to join hands and form a circle around these two," the wizard instructed. "Celeborn, did you bring the box?"
"I did," he nodded toward a small table where it lay. Celeborn turned from the circle to fetch it, but his wife stopped him.
"We do not need it," Galadriel said, not taking her eyes from Melui's.
"How do you know this?" Gandalf's forehead wrinkled as his grey brows rose.
Melui smiled up at them and shook her head. "We can do it by ourselves."
Bard tried to tell himself that her confident smile meant all would be well, but he was half-persuaded that she wasn't afraid because she was too young to know better. Which didn't do anything to settle the jitters in his gut.
Gandalf hushed them, and said, "Let us begin."
Galadriel clasped Melui's hands and kept eye contact, while the wizard murmured a prayer and placed his hands on each of their heads, as a sort of conduit between the two. Bard didn't know what to do as the Elves began to sing. He needn't have worried. The melody and the rhythm of the song vibrated throughout his body and words weren't necessary. Bard joined in the intention as naturally as entering a river and being swept downstream with the others. All his anxiety floated away into the stream of their collective will, no longer many, but one single organism working toward their goal. It didn't matter that he didn't know where it would end, only that he was a part of the journey.
For the rest of his life, Bard would never forget this experience.
In the center of the circle, Gandalf took his hands away and stepped back, still praying. The air around Galadriel and Melui swirled, lifting their hair as it carried in the wind, Galadriel's darker golden locks blended with Melui's ash-blonde, twisting, and tangling together almost like a braid. The white silk fabric of Galadriel's gown clung to her calves revealing long, elegant, bare feet. Melui's blue dress lifted slightly showing off her lacy socks and soft leather boots. Yet their faces remained serene, their eyes still locked.
Through the circle's shared bond, which was similar to the one Bard shared with his husband, he could sense both Elladan and Elrohir holding Vildan's arms, forcing him to remain in his place. He could also feel Vildan's wave of panic, and his impulse to jump in front of his child and put a stop to all of this. Instinctively, Bard and Thranduil sent as much reassurance as possible to Vildan, as did the twins and Celeborn. Well, they did anyway. Bard wasn't so arrogant to believe that he could achieve this as deftly as the Elves. But he could relate to the Vildan's protective instincts, and as long as he didn't let go, he decided he was doing fine.
Galadriel and Melui's private tornado didn't last more than a few minutes, but to Bard, those seconds passed like a frozen river that had just begun to thaw. Praise the stars, the wind and the flower petals and the leaves floated to the ground. The long blonde locks that were intertwined like a Maypole pulled apart as smooth as melted butter and settled around their shoulders.
The circle broke as everyone dropped their hands at their sides. Celeborn dashed over to his wife at the same time as Vildan leaped forward, grabbed his child off of the table, and held her against him, asking in whispered tones if she was all right and how did she feel. Celeborn urged his wife to the nearby bench to sit, despite her protests that she felt fine, better than she had in almost five years.
And it was true. Bard was astonished to see the change in the Lady of Light, who, to his eyes, had been the most beautiful creature he had ever seen when she came to Dale, but now she was…more. Celeborn could see it too, and embraced her as he murmured his relief into her hair.
He was marveling at this when there was a small commotion at the entrance to the Garden. It was Arwen, hovering under the arch with her hands clasped in worry.
"It is well, sister," Elrohir said, after their grandmother nodded her assent and he motioned for her to enter. "Haruni is whole again."
All three of Elrond's children gathered around their grandparents, eyes shining with joy. Gandalf put his arm around Vildan's shoulders who refused to put Melui down.
"Come along," Gandalf smiled as he herded the rest of the party out of the Garden. "Let's leave them some privacy, while we take Melui to see Gilfanon."
Bard and Thranduil opted out of the trip to the Healing House, but asked to be told the results of the Master's examination.
"You look poleaxed," Bard teased Thranduil as they strolled back to their rooms. "I was hoping you could explain all this to me, but it looks like this was a big deal for you, too."
"It was, Meleth nîn," the Elvenking said thoughtfully. "These past five years has been full of…adventure, have they not?"
Bard chuckled. "I'll be the first to say not all of those adventures were fun." He stopped and wrapped his arms around Thranduil's waist. "But at the end of the day, I've got you, and that's worth all of it."
Thranduil searched Bard's eyes, as he cupped his face. "And I have you." He lowered his head and kissed him softly.
"This is definitely a story for your books, love," Bard hugged him again. "Can't wait to see your sketches."
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Lothlórien, 17th of September 2946 T.A.
"Vildan!" Turamarth called to him from the balcony of the flet he shared with his new wife. "Come join us!"
"I would like that," Vildan called up. He turned and made for the circular staircase at the base of their tree. He easily reached the house, where Evvy swept him inside and they both gave him a warm embrace. Tur's eyes were full of joy at his new life, and Evvy's happiness lit up her entire, adorably freckled face.
"We have hardly seen you since you arrived," she complained, "and I have been anxious to speak with you." Her dark eyes were full of compassion. "I am sorry for all you have been through. Please, never forget you have friends in us."
"Thank you," he said, as she led him to a comfortable couch, where they all settled with refreshments.
"How is your niece? Melui, is her name?"
"It is."
"It was a very brave thing she did, to help our Lady," Evvy poured wine in his cup.
"It was equally brave of you to allow it," Tur told him seriously. "I am not sure I could have done that."
"It was difficult," Vildan picked up a biscuit, but instead of nibbling at it, flipped it over and over between his fingers. "But how could I stand in their way? It is because of the Lady that I walk without pain. It is only fitting that I allow Melui to return the grace."
"And the child has not been affected by any of it?"
"Gilfanon sees nothing wrong with her. As to whatever powers remain, that is for time to reveal. In the meantime," he met Tur's eyes with a small smile, "Melui is having a wonderful time with King Thranduil. And your nephew."
"Darryn is quite taken with her," Tur grinned. "I hope they continue to be friends when you come North."
Vildan set down the cookie and changed the subject. "Mithrandir tells me your wedding was lovely."
"Oh, it was!" Evvy gushed, as she leaned her head on Tur's shoulder. "I wish you could have been there. I never thought an Elleth could be as happy as I am now." Her face fell with consternation. "I do not mean to wave our good fortune at you—"
"Not at all," Vildan took a sip from his wine. "I would much rather be with happy people. There has been enough melancholy in my life for the past year."
"I hate to see this sadness in you," she reached over and laid a hand on his arm. "But you are here now, and this could be a new beginning, for you and Melui."
"You are coming to Dale," Tur's eyes narrowed slightly, "are you not?"
"I do not know." He swirled the dark contents of his goblet. "I hope so. Eventually."
"Why would you delay?" Surprise and just a hint of anger sharpened Turamarth's features.
But Tur's wife showed nothing but concern. "Mellon nîn, whatever is the matter?"
"I wish I knew," Vildan sighed. "I tell myself the worst is over, and I have been blessed with a miracle. I should be dancing with joy and gratitude! I should be shouting from the highest of these trees and want to run toward the future. I do not know why I still feel so hollow, so…nothing, is the only word that best describes it. I feel nothing, no happiness, or sadness. I even wish I could be angry. But it is as if something is broken inside." He stared out the window, where the giant leaves waved gaily at him. "Why do I feel so…flat?"
"May I tell you something?" Tur asked softly, then continued as if Vildan had already given his consent. "I dreaded the idea of this place, after what I…went through here. A lot of it was the Black, but it was more than that." His shoulders rounded as his eyes dulled as a long, sad sigh escaped him. He was quiet for a moment before he said. "Never again, I swore to myself. Never again would I come here, and be reminded of that unspeakable torture."
"That is one of the reasons why I left Imladris," Vildan said. On the windowsill, a small bird landed, and stared at him, tilting its head back and forth, as if it was assessing him. "Everywhere I looked was a reminder of things I lost."
"I always thought that anger and hate were the worst things, but I soon learned that it is the absence of feeling that can be an Elf's destruction. I stopped caring. About a lot of things. I could not help it. And all I had towards Evvy was a memory of love. I knew it existed, but it was as if that love, that passion belonged to someone else. I reached for it but I just couldn't touch it."
He turned back to Tur. "But you came back."
"Yes, I did," Tur smiled down at Evvy, "and I am glad of it." He turned back to Vildan, compassion in his eyes. "I see the same weariness that I once struggled with in you. All I can tell you is that it does get better."
"How?"
"I owe my recovery to Rhian and Daeron. I had help, Vildan, and so will you if you ask for it."
And with a chirp and a flutter, the bird took off and was gone. The first time since all this happened, here was someone who didn't have to guess how hard it has been for Vildan. Tur saw, he knew, and he understood. His throat hurt, and his eyes threatened to spill over, but he would not allow his struggle to dampen the happiness of his friends. He forced a smile and nodded, unable to speak.
Maybe it was seeing Turamarth that made Vildan think of coming to the garden he and Ruvyn created. It was a lovely place, and seemed to have served its purpose: to erase the memory of the evil that had once occurred here, that had no place within Galadriel's realm. It brought Vildan comfort to know that he helped, in a small way to restore the Lady to the fullness of her powers. For had it not been for her sacrifice in Dol Guldur, Middle Earth might have already been lost. And, because of that sacrifice and her weakened state, the Blue Wizard had been able to penetrate this land, bringing death and destruction. 3
"Suil, megil cyll a Imladris," a deep, female voice broke into his thoughts.
He looked up to see the Lady of Light herself, who appeared to be enjoying her restoration to health. Galadriel was as lovely as ever, but her aura of enchantment was deeper, stronger, and more captivating than he ever remembered. A blessing for her friends, and treacherous for her foes, of which he thanked Eru he was not one.
"I am no longer a Vanguard of Imladris, My Lady," Vildan reminded her. "I gave Lord Elrond my resignation before I left."
"I have heard thus," she gave him an amused smile. "Though my grandsons tell me their father did not release you."
"He did not?"
"Indeed. You know you will always be Vanguard. Now," she sat beside him and arranged her skirts, "tell me what troubles you."
"Perhaps you are right," Vildan sighed. "Though my body has been healed—and for that I owe you my deepest thanks—but my mind still feels muddled, and I do not know how to fix that." Vildan's eyes stung. "I thought once the pain left me, the veil would be lifted, and my path would be clear. Yet it is as muddled as it has been since I learned of my sister's death!"
"Do you wonder at that?" she said kindly. "Months of uncertainty and fear added further injury, and only now do you see the state of your fëa. You are weary in mind and in spirit."
"Turamarth said as much to me, but as much as I want to see my way past all this, I do not know how to do that."
"Just be still."
"For how long?" Vildan ran his fingers through his long hair.
"As long as it takes," Galadriel said calmly.
"But I cannot be idle!" he protested.
She tilted her head with a quizzical smile. "You fear the thoughts that might arise if you have nothing to distract them. You cannot put behind that which you are unwilling to face."
Turamarth bit his lower lip and considered her words. "I want to go back to the Elf I was before this happened. I want to laugh and be merry and join the twins in their pranks. I want to run through the trees with Melui on my shoulders as I once did, and tickle her until we both fall down laughing." He turned his gaze from the ground to meet her clear blue ones. "I have changed, and I do not like it."
"You cannot go back. None who have known sadness ever can." She rested her hand upon his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "You are changed, Vildan. That cannot be helped. But until you stop fighting it, you will never grow." She rose and stood before him. "Stay here in Lothlórien for a time and rest. Do not rush yourself with expectations. Do not think about the future. Walk among my trees and let their ancient song lighten your heart. Just live in the day and see your pain as a step to a greater peace."
"I was hoping you would say that," he admitted. "You have my gratitude."
She gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It is not entirely unselfish. Mithrandir and I wish to spend the time with Melui and determine the extent of her gifts. She is a child and needs to learn how to control her power. That can be difficult to navigate without a strong mentor."
"I could be her mentor," he said as a reflex.
"Not in this, but do not discount your role." She rested her smooth, soft hand on his cheek. "I will be her teacher, but you are her father now, and that is a great deal more important."
"Thank you," he said. "How did you know I was here?"
She laughed. "I could say a little bird told me, which he did. But it is the trees that showed me the way."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
No bell - Hush
Suil, megil cyll a Imladris – Greetings, protector of Imladris
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NOTES:
1 Broken Wings, Ch. 3: /works/20519588/chapters/48867101
2 And Winter Came, Ch. 11; /works/12026709/chapters/28410648
3 Legolas, Ion nîn, Ch. 21: /works/17088320/chapters/43856137
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