Get out your hankies folks. I have cried days over this one!
Chapter 30
Two weddings and some babies or Celeborn’s Most Excellent Adventure!
***
Let us kiss with the touch of our life
Call me now to your chamber
For your kiss is an excellent wine
Flowing smoothly poured out for a lover
Canticle of the Bride
John Michael Talbot
***
Anselm and Heridil exchanged vows and bonded on a sunny spring day in the gardens of Rivendell. The groom wore a new green tunic, that all the women had sewn together, with Lorien leaves embroidered on the sleeves and collar, cream leggings and soft brown boots. The bride wore her mother’s bridal gown – carefully packed and kept for so long – and flowers in her hair.
She insisted on being barefoot.
Bronwyn was grateful that there were no equivalent Middle Earth ‘barefoot and pregnant’ jokes running rampant.
They were surrounded by family and friends. Bronwyn cried and Haldir’s jaw ticked. He could be seen yanking on his braid several times. Merry and Pippin just happened to be there, stopping by in their long, final trip to Gondor. They sat up with Bronwyn for hours, smoking pipe weed and talking of the Scourging of the Shire, of the demise of Saruman and Grima. The rebuilding and planting. Of Frodo and Sam and the Red Book. Bronwyn was deeply saddened to see the two stooped Hobbits, grey and slow in their movements, but still just as quick mentally and playful.
“The world is aging, Haldir.” she cried that night in his arms. “The world is aging and yet we stay as we are. It is so unfair!”
Haldir held her tight, agreeing with her. Seeing the Hobbits had been devastating to her. It had brought home to the both that their children would suffer that same fate while they lived on in Valinor, knowing all. “It is a gift.” He whispered. “Death is a gift.” Always, he had heard that, but never before, had it been so poignant.
The arrangements for Beckett’s and Orelinde’s late winter soul-bonding went straight into high gear and became frantic. Elves still in Lothlórien were coming, pastries were made and sampled, linens and cloth for the bride and groom and attendants were spread and scattered, merchants coming and going. Everyone was busy, rushing here and there.
“Why can I not have a nice, quiet ceremony like Heridil and Anselm?” Beckett groused to his parents one evening. He stood on a small riser, arms outstretched, while several seamstresses ran around him with pins, measuring tape and yards of fabric. “We do not wish all this fuss… ouch! Dammit, woman! You pricked me on purpose!” If Haldir had scowls down pat, his son had perfected the look. “Truly, Orelinde and I would prefer something more sedate!”
Haldir was stretched out across his and Bronwyn’s bed on his stomach, watching the goings on. A large, white wolf lay at the foot of the bed, a rather bored expression on his face. “You forget, my Elfling, you are marrying the Prince’s daughter.” His eyes found Bronwyn standing to the side with the head seamstress, pouring over patterns. “Please tell me you have not informed Thranduil.”
“Sorry darling. We received the royal missive yesterday. He will be here with bells on!” Bronwyn did not look up from the drawings, instead continuing to point to one or another. “I do not think he would miss his granddaughter’s wedding.”
Haldir snorted and muttered under his breath. “Oh, so important is she that he has not even met her before!”
Bronwyn threw her writing quill at him. “I heard that and yes, he has! Legolas took her to meet him when her mother and Ada passed on. He said he was quite taken with his granddaughter.”
“Probably tried to seduce her, the old reprobate!”
“Ada! Even I heard that!”
“Haldir!” Bronwyn handed the patterns back to the seamstress. “Here, that one in the blue for my crabby husband!” She pointed to a rather detailed illustration. “And that in deepest green for my son!”
“Mother!” Beckett shook off the wandering hands and jumped from the stool. “Do I not even get to pick out my own wedding clothes?”
Haldir had rolled over and was stretching, his long frame hanging over the side of the bed. “Give up, son! You have gone from having your mother pick your clothes straight to your wife! Bachelorhood is very under-rated!” He did not see how close Bronwyn had gotten and was pleasantly surprised when she smacked him in the chest with a pillow.
“Would you like to return to your bachelorhood, Heru en Cormmin?” Bronwyn found herself yanked from her feet and pulled on top of her husband. His hands cupped her bottom.
“Nay. I like my wife!” He rolled, pinning her beneath him. Playfully, he planted wet kisses all over her face. Although her legs automatically spread, allowing him to settle between them, Bronwyn pushed his face away.
“Haldir, stop being silly!” It was a half-hearted protest.
The Elf’s eyes grew huge and his smile was feral. “No!” He grabbed at her hands and pinning them down to the bed, began to kiss her in earnest.
“Oh, please!” Beckett’s scowl had deepened and he began to pluck off the pinned material encasing his arms. “You are too old to behave like Elflings! At the very least, get a room!”
Bronwyn’s look was of mock astonishment. “He said we are too old. Haldir! Do you feel old? I do not feel old.”
Haldir’s scowl matched his son’s. “Find a room? This is my room!” Seamstresses giggled at the randiness of the lofty March Warden and left the room. Haldir waved his hand at his son. “Someday, when you have grown Elflings making fun of you and Orelinde, you will remember this day! Begone you! I wish to kiss my wife without your careful watching!” Beckett headed towards the door, mumbling about Elves acting their age. “And shut the door behind you!” When he heard the click, he looked down at his snickering wife. “Elves acting their age, indeed. I should send him wenching with Celeborn! That one cou – Baraermin?”
Bronwyn’s face had gone from bemusement to sadness. “We will not be here when their children are grown, will we? We will not see Heridil’s and Anselm’s child reach adulthood and marry. We will miss so very much.”
Haldir rolled over, bringing his wife to his side, curled into his protective embrace. “Sweetling, even in the world of Men, many grandparents lives are too short. Many do not live to see their grandchildren grown and settled. Many parents do not live to see their children grow. It is the cycle of life. And we will not be totally gone. We will still have contact. We will still have input. It will be a sad leaving, yes, but we will be able to watch our grandchildren and great grandchildren grow and continue on.”
“But we will watch them die as well.”
He pulled her closer. “Ah, that we will. But that is our fate. It is their fate.” He tipped her face upwards to him. “But I will always be here for you. We will always have each other. I will never leave you. The Valar have decreed it.” He kissed her nose. “Now. What say you that we thoroughly disgust our son by making loud, raucous love in the middle of the day?”
And although she responded enthusiastically, Haldir realized, felt her hold back, that small part of her already feeling their future losses.
***
Summer passed and autumn came. The trees turned colors and Anselm grew. She carried her child with a dignity and grace Bronwyn never had. As the nights cooled and the family once again spent many hours in front of warm fires, too often the young ones would retreat to dark corners to whisper and plan.
“Stop snogging in the corner with my son!” Haldir would growl. “Get a room!”
Which, inevitably, they did.
***
Anselm gave birth weeks before the wedding, to a small, perfectly formed son, with blonde fuzz and pointed ears.
The labor was short and easy and Bronwyn was quite jealous. Haldir delivered his grandchild and both he and Bronwyn stood proudly behind the parents as that night, in the cold, they presented their son.
They named him Turlough.
***
Thranduil and his entourage arrived the week before the wedding. He insisted on attempting to terrorize the groom-to-be and was properly condescending when he could not.
“That Elf is just like his father.” He groused in his wine glass. He raised his eyes to Legolas, nose still in the goblet. “Are you sure you wish to allow my granddaughter to marry so far beneath her?”
“To begin with, yes he is like me, thank you very much, second, he has a great deal of his mother in him and third, she is not marrying beneath herself, you degenerate!” Haldir was imbibing with the guests this night. “You know full well his importance!”
“No, I do not know his importance. Am I supposed to and be thoroughly impressed?” Thranduil held his now empty goblet out, indicating his desire for a refill. Someone quickly complied and soon, his nose was back in the glass. “I cannot believe Elrond left his stash behind.”
“He did not!” Haldir deliberately left off the word ‘jackass’. “He left the dregs and took the best with him.”
“Loaded down Cirdan’s hold, from what I hear.” Celeborn added. He was feeling very little pain and was looking rather saucily at the elleth keeping everyone’s glasses filled.
“And he calls ME a degenerate!” Thranduil whispered drunkenly to Legolas, nodding towards Celeborn.
The wine flowed late that night and many toasts to the couple were made. Both Celeborn and Thranduil weaved drunkenly into beds that were not theirs and even Legolas and Haldir barely made it to their own rooms.
The wedding day dawned cold but clear and bright. And in the same open chamber that the fate of the One Ring was decided, Beckett, son of Haldir and Bronwyn of Lothlórien, married and bonded with Orelinde, daughter of Eowyn and Legolas, Prince of Greenwood.
Celeborn managed to sober up enough to conduct the bonding.
Beckett was resplendent in the heavy green velvet tunic that showed off his coloring.
The bride wore winter white, also in velvet, a lacy shawl over her hair.
Haldir had snarled at the outfit created for him, but wore it begrudgingly as sometime during the night, while he was keeping the other Elves company, (and getting plastered) Bronwyn had hidden all of his other clothing. It was a blue tunic and leggings, almost purple, with silver banding at the wrists, collar and hem; a dark purple sleeveless vest with fur trimming at the shoulder complemented the outfit.
He wore ear cuffs.
Bronwyn whispered to him as Legolas escorted his daughter down the aisle that he had better gotten enough sleep the night before as she had every intention of ravishing him for the entire night – IF she could wait that long!
Haldir simply raised an eyebrow and informed her that he had every intention of taking her into the garden to dance, much like they had over a century ago in Lothlórien. He glanced haughtily down her low cut gown. Her dress was a heavy wool, deep burgundy, similar in cut and style to the burgundy velvet she had worn on the river so many years ago. It had a train and long flowing sleeves.
Orophin and Rumil snickered behind them.
She said it was too cold.
He retorted that she would not feel the cold when he got done with her.
Beckett recited his vows…
“I’d give up forever to speak with you,
to hear my name on your lips.
I would give up forever to talk with you…”
“Haldir!” she whispered. “Those vows… those are your vows!”
“Aye.” He pulled her closely and whispered in her ear, reciting them again. Upon their completion, he kissed the gently rounded ear. “They are still true today.”
She was quiet for the rest of the ceremony, crying at the appropriate times…
Crying the entire time.
***
The wine flowed freely afterwards and everyone was feeling very happy. Music played non-stop – Elven musicians that Thranduil had brought with him. At one point, he had decided to be magnanimous, approaching Bronwyn for a chaste, fatherly dance, only to be stopped in his tracks, when, upon seeing his approach, she had smiled broadly and lifting the edge of her dress, showed off shoes with an extremely high stiletto heel.
He quickly changed directions and averted to the wine tray.
Celeborn sidled next to him, reaching for a glass as well.
“It is too bad the King of Gondor could not come.” Thranduil mused outloud. “I hear he does not venture far from the White City these days.”
“He is aging.” Celeborn answered. “Although I know she will not, a part of me hopes against hope that Arwen will change her mind and take the last boat to the Undying Lands.” He drank deeply from the crystal. “Elrond will meet every boat, hoping against the odds, but he knows as well.” He smiled as Haldir strode up next to them.
“A fine looking couple my granddaughter and your son make.” Thranduil said, breaking the ice, making idle conversation. “This was the child you had agreed upon conceiving at my fortress?”
“Aye.” Haldir’s answer was short, curt.
“I take it he was conceived not too long afterwards.”
Haldir did not know what possessed him, but a wicked grin split his features as he raised his glass. He looked the King in the eye.
“As a matter of fact, he was conceived on your desk in your study after Bronwyn and I looked at some rather naughty pictures you had hidden on your bookshelf.”
Thranduil never missed a beat. Again, his nose was in his glass. “Oh really? So was Legolas.” Haldir barely was able to swallow his wine.
Celeborn had turned a deep shade of crimson. All this talk of sex and desks. He had had that dream again about Bronwyn and Erestor’s desk and he did not want to give that little secret away as he was starting to enjoy that fantasy. He was startled by a cool hand around his arm. He looked down to see her standing there smiling. At him.
“What are they talking about, Celeborn?” she stage-whispered. Haldir was getting a glass for her and had his back turned momentarily.
“Uhm… furniture.” Celeborn tried to drink from his glass and even his breathing.
“Oh.” Her mouth made a moue. “And talking about furniture made you blush?” Her grin was devilish and her look was…
Did she know what he had been dreaming about? How?
“That must be some… furniture.” She took the glass from Haldir and then led him away from the two Elf Lords, her hips gently swayed causing the train of her dress to swish softly. Celeborn followed her with his eyes and just as he started to look away, she looked back at him.
And winked.
***
After the bride and groom left for their bridal chamber – amid much jesting and ribald jokes – Haldir did as he promised. He took Bronwyn into the gardens and in dancing, made her forget about the cold.
***
As soon as the guests left and life quieted down, Bronwyn became the Grande Dame of Rivendell. She announced she was finished with the scrolls, the maps, everything. She threw them in containers haphazardly and contented herself in playing with her grandchild; enjoying her children. She threw her knives now on a daily basis, watching for any sign of finality.
They were wild and sluggish.
Orophin, along with Tomasil, left for the Undying Lands that spring. He had never regained his full buoyancy for life and the call became stronger until eventually, he gave in. He carried with him in an oilskin, carefully sealed portraits of Arwen, Aragorn and their children and grandchildren, Elrohir and Elladan for Elrond, drawn by Rumil. Tomasil was excited, ready for new adventures and disheartened at the same time. He had enjoyed his cousins company and knowing that he would never see Beckett and Anselm and quite possibly Faeowynne again saddened him deeply.
Before he mounted his horse, Orophin hugged his sister-in-law tightly. The light in his eyes were unusually bright and for the first time in years, he looked…
Rested.
Young.
“Shall I tell you secret before I leave?”
“Sure!”
Orophin looked around to make sure no one could hear, a mischievous grin on his face. “Do you remember, when you first arrived in Middle Earth and it seemed that Rumil and I were constantly weeding Galadriel’s garden?” Bronwyn nodded. “Do you know why were we weeding the garden?” Large brown eyes looked curiously into his. “It was because Haldir caught Rumil and I peeking at you in the bath and rather than leave, we negotiated weeks of weeding for continued minutes of voyeuristic watching!” Orophin’s grin deepened as Bronwyn’s jaw dropped in astonishment. He clasped her to him in a fierce hug. “It was worth every second!” he whispered in her ear. Once he was able to discern that she was laughing, he turned her loose.
” I shall see you again when Haldir hears the call.”
“Aye.” Bronwyn had a huge lump in her throat. Something she should look forward to, she also feared.
“Bronwyn.” The Elf’s eyes bore into hers. “It is hard, very hard to leave. But as time goes, it becomes easier. Trust in that.” He hugged her again, before mounting. “You gave me the best advice once.”
“And what advice was that, Orophin?”
He looked into the distance. “You told me to follow my heart.” And then he smiled. “I never regretted it. Follow your heart, Bronwyn of Lothlórien.”
And with that, the two galloped off towards the Grey Havens.
***
Time stands still for no man or Elf and time did not stand still for the ever diminishing group in Rivendell. Beckett and Orelinde announced their impending parenthood within months after their marriage and Bronwyn delighted in the news of another grandchild. Turlough was beginning to crawl and Anselm announced within months that she and Heridil had agreed again.
Within five years, Haldir and Bronwyn had four grandchildren. Two of each.
Bronwyn was forever in the floor, in the garden, singing, conjuring images, much to the delight of the babies. And if truth be told, Haldir joined her constantly, not only understanding her need to spend as much time as possible with her family, but recognizing his need as well. He carried the babies everywhere, horseback riding, playing. He constructed bows for grandchildren not yet born, fletched endless arrows. He sat with Beckett, Anselm, even when nothing was said, simply enjoying, basking in their company.
Bronwyn had finally broken down and asked Faeowynne her future plans. She had been relieved to hear her middle’s child’s answer.
“What? Stay here and leave you and Ada to savor the fun of the Undying Lands alone?” she barked, polishing her bow. “I have seen all there is to see here in Middle Earth. I will go with you, thank you very much!”
Deep in their hearts, Bronwyn and Haldir were gladdened. They would not make the trip alone.
The day came. He knew it would come, knew it was coming closer and closer. The call was getting more and more insistent; his desire to see the gulls, to feel the roll of the sea under his feet, more stringent. It was the last dregs of winter and spring lay around the corner. He lay in the floor, on a rug, lifting his newest granddaughter above him, drool everywhere, when the scream rent his conscious.
Bronwyn.
Quickly, he rolled over, gently clasping Ariella to him. He met Heridil and Beckett, in the corridor, both of them pale.
“Ada, please, please come quick.” Haldir handed the babe over to Heridil, as he began to sprint towards his wife. The screaming in his head had toned down to an anguished keening.
He knew what she cried over.
Quickly, he made his way into the garden, to find her standing, leaning over…
Her knives.
“Beavis, Beavis oh please dammit Beavis, come to Beavis.”
Her knives lay on the ground, flat, not moving; her hands above them, yanking and jerking.
They refused to budge. A tear streaked face turned to him.
“Noooooo…..”
***
You know I’ve always been a dreamer
(Spent my life running ‘round)
And it’s so hard to change
(Can’t seem to settle down)
But the dreams I’ve seen lately
Keep on turning out and burning out
And turning out the same
So put me on a highway
Show me a sign
And take it to the limit
One more time
Take it to the Limit
Eagles
***
It was shocking to both Bronwyn and Haldir, how fast everything moved after that. Trunks were packed and final arrangements made. Bronwyn moved as if in a daze and wept at everything. She confused her grandchildren, who were baffled by the sudden change of mood in all the adults.
They received word from Arwen that Aragorn had passed peacefully, ready to give over the reigns of rule to his son. The two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, had passed soon after, buried at his side in places of honor they richly deserved. Arwen had decided – to no one’s surprise – to stay with her daughters for a time and insisted Gimli use her passage to go to the Undying Lands.
“I know full well Legolas’ devotion to you, Master Dwarf. ” she wrote. “Your company will ease his grief over leaving his father and daughter behind. Besides, I know well your love for my grandmother. And perhaps, with Celeborn staying behind, you might have a chance…” The ending of the letter was rather saucy and cheeky and it made the Dwarf smile.
Her letter to Bronwyn begged her to give her love to her father, show him, not just tell him, how happy her life had been and that she had not regretted a moment. She was deeply sorrowful for the harsh words spoken between the two at his leaving and wanted to impress upon him her love for him.
It was no surprise when they received the news as they left Imladris that Arwen had gone into the woods of Lothlórien and after lying down on Cerin Amroth, had faded into the green mound.
Arwen Evenstar was no more.
The Third Age was completely at end. The time of the Elves was over.
***
The shipyard was bustling, constantly in motion. The babies were wide- eyed, attention spans darting here and there at the sights, the sounds, the smell. Haldir watched carefully as the last of their things were loaded onto the large boat, its bearded Elf for a caption bellowing orders.
“You are sure, Celeborn? There is still room.”
Celeborn looked at his former March Warden. “I feel obligated to watch over your children. Bronwyn worries, but I will be here. So will Thranduil.” He nodded over to the King and the Prince, embraced tightly as the elder Elf whispered frantically in his son’s ear. Gimli stood over to the side, watching the final parting with saddened eyes. “Despite all, he is a noble Elf and he will watch over Beckett and Orelinde as if they were his own.” Indeed, the King of Greenwood had showered lavish attention on their children and had even played with Anselm and Heridil’s children as well. He had treated Bronwyn respectfully, despite her lack of high heeled footwear and had been overheard singing a lullaby or two to several sleepless Elflings on the trip.
Cirdan came down the gang plank and pounded Haldir on the shoulder. “Grab your women, WoodElf. We are leaving with the tide.” Haldir searched the crowd for Bronwyn.
And found her in a huddle with Anselm and Beckett along with their spouses and children.
Conjuring.
Remembering.
As Haldir came closer, he was caught up in the spell she weaved, as were many other innocent passersby.
The years raced by as she infused them with her memories.
The Mines –
“What sort of Wizard are you?” Legolas had asked her.
“I’m no Wizard.”
“My name is Braun.”
“Give me your bow. You catch them, I will shoot. My knives will not reach! I promise not to hurt it! “
“Not the beard!”
The destruction of the bridge – how they barely made it out alive…
Her arrival in Caras Galadhon. How she had thrown up on Orophin.
“Sir, I beseech you, please step back. I’m going to be sick.”
His own reaction to her, her filth, her plight, Legolas’ defense of her from the beginning…
“And what of this one? He did not start with you!” He had taken the edge of his bow and lifted her face, vomit dribbling down her chin. “He is a beardless boy. How did you become saddled with him?”
How could he have ever mistaken her for a boy?
“Haldir, he saved our lives!”
“This pitiful scrap saved your lives?” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “Are you losing your touch, Prince of Mirkwood?” He smiled grimly. “Your father would be so disappointed…”
Had he truly been so callous?
Along with his children, she continued. Continued to remember.
How gently he had handled her in her illness, how he had held her, comforted her when she fought to keep from remembering…
“Duncan, you sent me an angel. A beautiful angel.”
Singing on the archery fields…
Well, I met a Elf in Lothlorien Woods
Now I ain’t namin’ names…
Alilian… Heridil… Liandrian…
Excuse me, I still did not get your name….
Sitting in Galadriel’s garden, the Lady attempting to weave her hair.
Beautiful music rising in the garden.
I am lost. I want to go back home. I want my home…
Going through her backpack in Galadriel’s garden.
Orophin and Rumil weeding in Galadriel’s garden.
“Pity,” he mused out loud, opening the book “you were so sweet and charming while your were asleep! Called me beautiful, even.”
She inhaled, her chest rising. “I did no such thing!”
Son of a bitch…
I am not here to harm you…
“What is ‘look like shit?'”
Rumil and Bronwyn, singing together.
Laughing Orophin
Quiet, stalwart Heridil,
Shy, shy Alilian.
An afternoon on the river…
I’ll not marry a man that’s young
His wavering heart
And philandering tongue…
The two, standing in the river, with an orange… the kiss…
Ah. THAT kiss…
His return to the Fences…
No, lirimear. I cannot allow to you to go.”
How she incurred his wrath and followed him anyway. Her headstrong ways and obstinance almost getting her killed…
He grabbed her one handed by the collar, jerking her up on her toes. “What will it take for you to be quiet? I do not wish to hear you speak. I do not wish to hear your ‘Peace, love, and crabs!’ I do not wish to hear you breathe. I gave you an order.” His placed his other hand over her mouth. “I had a reason to give you that order and you defied it. You did not think of the consequences, you did not think of the danger, you did not think of the difficulty you would put me or Rumil or Orophin or Heridil or any of my archers in. Did you consider that with Heridil and Orophin being more concerned about making sure you kept up and were watched and fed, that they were unable to do what they needed to do? Did you consider that by defying me that now I had more to watch out for besides Orcs, I had to watch out for you as well? You walked into the middle of a bigger nest of Uruk hai than is normal and they were not normal? Did you stop to think that had you been killed that I would have died as well? That whatever destiny you are heading for would come to a halt? If the thought of my death or yours means such a minuscule amount to you, think of it this way. What if Heridil had jumped down to protect you? I had to stop him twice. He would willingly, for the sake of your friendship, have died for you. You did not think, you put all of us in danger because of your foolish actions and I plan to make sure you never do that again!”
How had he made sure she never did it again? He had fallen in love with her.
On and on the memories continued…
His abandonment of her at Caras Galadhon. Celeborn, pleading with her, begging her…
Tithen Aras. Please. You must eat…
Her looking into Galadriel’s mirror, forced finally to remember…
You knew! You bitch! And you made me remember! You fucking well made me remember! How could you…You knew! Aaah! Dammit! My baby, my Duncan…
Who am I? What am I?
Her leaving.
The pitcher thrown, shattered on the floor… That is me. I am not just emptied… I am shattered in thousands of pieces and I do not think they can ever be put back together…Fading would be a welcome release…
Haldir’s frantic chase to catch her.
The Uruk-hai…
“Come on, you stinking bastards. Come to Beevis.”
Bloodlust.
Him finding her.
Listening to Aerosmith.
Their trip back to Lothlorien, how they worked together as a team…
Why do you wear my tunics?
A contingent of Uruk hai, camped along the river…
“It could be worse!” His voice was nonchalant, unworried.
“Worse? Worse? How could it possibly be worse?” Her voice threatened to screech, despite its whisper.
“They could be on this side of the river!” he shrugged.
The arguments, the fights, her unwillingness to trust.
Baraer. Be truthful with yourself. Your sword skills are gone. You frighten even me with the lack of it. You are a danger to yourself. Your archery skills are diminishing as well. Soon, your knives will fly away and not come back.
You shut up!
The uncontrollable, soaring music.
Heridil falling from the flet…
Her death.
Bronwyn Morgan ap Powell, Baraermin, lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.
The Halls of Waiting, Duncan, Duncan with his infinite wisdom and her return.
“Do you not understand Mother? God, Jesus, Iluvatar, Allah, Jehovah, the Goddess, the Great Spirit, Odin, Thor, Zeus…they are all one in the same. It is Man and the Races who name and rename them. Names change, the One does not.”
I was not the gift. He was. Haldir was gift.
Teach me to trust… teach me to love…
The taming of her powers.
Jumping on her sword…
An entire contingent of Elves singing “Purple Haze”
Dol Guldur. The spiders.
Smut…
“No, My name is not ‘What’. My name is Smut.”
Ducking countless fireballs; Haldir dropping a few errant scrolls in his quiver…
Back down, you ass wipe, or I will back it down for you!”
The breaking of glass, the horrid melt-down of Smut… Haldir carrying her out…
The Valar… Tari…
Who am I? I am…
Blood. Her blood, spilt on the ground…
“Mana lúme caita syadlla?
Mana lúme lerya quingalla?
Mana lúme hehtanë siklla?
Mana lúme mappe eppessëlla?
Er Valar quetuvar.”
The Valar say thus…
I am one with the Earth. The Earth is one with me…
Serkenin naa a Arda
Arda naa a serkenin
Naem er, naem atya
Naem weerrenen ullume
Hanyo allasse ar nwalma
Exhaustion. That long ride to the farmhouse which no longer stood…
…and if I built a fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a Bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire…
She and Galadriel painting each other’s toenails.
That little… black… dress…
Stomping on Thranduil.
Agreeing.
Give me a child from your heart…
Haldir and Bronwyn, together on the balcony, lute and harp, in harmony
Throwing up together after battle.
Can I ask a stupid question? Am I getting married today?
Their wedding. Had it really been so romantic? He had just wanted something simple. Did she really remember it as being something divine?
Must you marry the big, mean Elf, Bronwyn?
This rose is from Duncan. Think you I would do this without consulting him?
I would give up forever to touch you,
to feel myself in your arms.
I would give up forever to love you.”
Entreat me not to leave thee or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go…
You are the air…
Secret Agent Bronny.
Naughty limericks
Oh cabin boy Oh cabin boy
You naught little nipper…
The Dead Marshes…
Agnus Dei
Qui tol lis pec ca ta
Mundi misere nobis
Bodies and bodies and Heridil’s father sinking ever downward…
O Lamb of God,
that takest away the sins of the world
Have mercy upon us
Meeting Lera.
Mooooooo.
Beckett’s birth….
No, no and Hell no! I want an epidural…
Your son does not wish to be born
Your daughter is stubborn…
Behold Beckett, the only thing greater than yourself.
Beckett sitting proudly on his father’s lap. Yada yada yada dammit! Ada! Ada!
Bad cwab! Bad cwab!
Surfin’ USA…
The Pirates of Umbar.
The Deserts of South Hardan…
There is nothing there. I will not allow you to go…
A red-headed naked Elfling running, running, chased by Elves with flying white hair… laughing…
You are an Orc and must be slaughtered…
Helm’s Deep
Isengard
Haldir, I am afraid. This baby is too early.
Not baby. Babies. Beautiful little girls…
Treebeard…
And on this farm he had a Uruk hai…
Did not
Did too
Children high in the trees, throwing pears at Rumil.
That was no child… that was Haldir throwing pears at Rumil.
Good shot, Ada!
The slow death of the Golden Woods
Beckett running with a… doll?
Come back here, you rat! Bring me back my dolly…
Elflings chasing wolf cubs, running, laughing, yipping, sleeping all curled together…
Rivendell.
Celeborn watching in amusement…
Growing Elflings. Maturing Elflings. Elflings now as parents and responsible adults.
I have your bow, Mama. We will talk often. You will tire of me, I promise.
Tears flow and tears flow and tears flow…
All the way up the gangplank.
***
Celeborn watched all around him. Tears were beyond abundant. Thranduil would most undoubtably refuse to remember what a blubberbuss he had become. Anselm was inconsolable. So was Orelinde. The babies cried because their parents cried and he, himself, was holding a whining Turlough.
The Twins were crying openly as well as they waved.
Celeborn finally admitted he had a lump the size of Gondor in his throat.
He could see Bronwyn. How many tears could come out of one set of eyes? She would probably cry herself sick. Haldir…
So close was that one to breaking, but Haldir would not do it in front of anyone. Probably not even in front of Bronwyn. When he did crack, she would have a time of it.
He hoped Galadriel would understand.
The ropes to remove the gangplank were lowered and tied on.
“Last call.”
He thought to himself.
Galadriel, the first time he had seen her. He had fallen in love immediately. She had not been an easy catch. The exasperating she-Elf had led him on a merry chase and he was shocked when he discovered that he had been her first…
Celebrian… Elrond…
Bronwyn’s tears.
The ropes tied to the gangplank snapped tight…
What on all of Middle Earth was he doing? The transition was all but over. The twins would eradicate every Orc alive and then what?
Oh, Boogers!
“Thranduil!”
The Elf King looked at him, eyes rimmed red. “What?” he snapped.
Celeborn handed the baby to him. “You will watch them. Look over them…”
“I promised Legolas I would… What are you thinking…”
“I give it back, Thranduil. All of it! I give it all back to you!” He pulled him close. “The woods, Lothlórien, Calas Galadhon, all of it! Watch over all of it, all of them, as I would have. You are what Tithen Aras would call a Prickless Wonder, but you are a good ruler and a good father!”
“You brainless braggart! You have packed nothing…”
“You can have my clothes too! I know you have always desired that silver robe with the blue sash! But it will always look better on me!” He punched the Elven King in the arm and turned to Bronwyn’s Brood…
Celeborn quickly hugged and kissed them all…
Anselm held him close. “I knew you couldn’t stay.”
The gangplank started to lift…
Thank Iluvatar, he wore a tunic and leggings and not those cumbersome robes. Celeborn took off running, hair flying in the wind. He ran up the plank of wood, it now swaying several feet in the air and he took a flying leap over the yawning air between the bridge and the boat…
People pointed, stared at the Elf running crazily up the plank. Haldir looked stupefied – ah, to have a painting of that look – and for a moment, Bronwyn stopped crying…
Both feet hit the deck and shot out from under him and the Elf Lord bounced in a most undignified manner across the wood on his ass. He thought he might have nailed a wolf or two on his way…
Sailors, Cirdan himself ran to help him up. Sure enough, Ludwig, Bronwyn’s wolf yipped angrily and slunk away, scowling, limping slightly on his front paw.
Celeborn grimaced in pain. There be splinters…
He limped over to Haldir and Bronwyn and began to wave at the crowd on the docks.
“Celeborn, I…”
“Be quiet, Haldir. I changed my mind. I would miss Galadriel too much and I would miss yours and Bronwyn’s shenanigans even more. Besides,” he motioned to their family left behind, “They do not really need me. They are in good hands with Thranduil. They are, Tithen Aras. When you are in the mood to listen, go to Legolas and ask him to tell you of his growing up, of his Ada. Not the King, but of Legolas’ Ada. What you hear will be totally different from what you think.”
The ship sailed with the setting sun.
Even after all others had gone below deck or moved on to other activities, the tall Elf and short woman stood at the deck, watching…
“Can you still see them, Cormmin?”
“Aye, they still stand there, watching.”
And as Bronwyn and Haldir watched the horizon of Middle Earth disappear slowly, the loose button eyes of a tattered, ancient teddy bear, tucked in the back waist of her jeans, stared off towards Valinor.
***
I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath
I would stand inside my hell and hold the hand of death
You don’t know how far I’d go to ease this precious ache
You don’t know how much I’d give
Or how much I can take
Just to reach you…
Come to my window
Melissa Ethridge
***
Not many ate that night. Certainly none did, who were with Bronwyn and Haldir’s party. Legolas and Gimli sat together with Faeowynne, who watched her parents from the corner.
Now was not the time to tell them.
No one noticed the small man sitting in the corner, by himself.
Haldir had crawled inside himself and Bronwyn could feel, sense his pain. That night, she crawled in the narrow, hard bunk with him and reached out to hold him.
He brushed her hands away, perturbed at the weakness within himself.
“Haldir please.”
He turned his back to her, so she would not see his tears.
“Go to sleep, Baraermin.”
She was stunned. “Haldir… Cormmin… please. They are your children too. Can I offer you no comfort?”
It was quiet for a moment before he spat. “Comfort? You mean sex! Is that what you want tonight?”
Bronwyn caught her breath. Lightly, she laid her hand on the broad back and was jolted by the pain he harbored deep inside. He felt the intrusion of her mind and jerked from her.
“Do not do that. Use your gifts the way the Valar intended. Not on me!” He took a deep breath. “Go to sleep.”
“But, Cormmin…”
“I said go to sleep, Bronwyn.” He had scooted to as close to the cabin wall as he could get. Bronwyn waited until his breathing evened out and then quietly, wrapped herself in his red cloak and crying, stole from the cabin.
***
Kyrie Elleson down the road the I must travel
Kyrie Elleson through the darkness of the night
Kyrie Elleson where I’m going will you follow?
Kyrie Elleson on that highway in the sky…
***
Celeborn couldn’t sleep. The boat rocked and it disconcerted him. Sighing heavily, he donned leggings and a tunic and went topside.
The mist was fine, and the salt from the water stung his nostrils, his face. It smelled good, in its strange way and he inhaled deeply. In holding his breath, he heard the quiet sob. Turning, into the night, towards the back of the ship, he saw the glow of a red cape, a large red cloak, covering a body it was not made for, that was too small for it. She had wrapped herself in Haldir’s cloak, the bottom whipping around her legs as the wind blew her hair in a wild mass. She gazed back towards Middle Earth, back towards her home, back towards her children.
Grieving.
With silent footsteps, Celeborn moved behind her and placed gentle hands on her shoulders.
“Tithen Aras…”
Bronwyn turned in his arms, turned in his embrace. She buried her face in his chest and strong arms clasped his lower back. The Elf Lord had no choice but to embrace her, hold her close. And when her voice came forth, it was muffled, broken.
“Nyeeradín, Celeborn. Nyeeradin. N’ista sut dín anta.”
Celeborn’s eyes teared up, for her worry over Haldir. “He is a warrior, Tithen Aras. He is trained not to show his grief.” A long, finger tipped her chin so he could see her eyes in the moonlight. “He will stand stalwart for you.” He placed gentle kisses on her forehead.
“What am I supposed to do?” she whispered. “Does he not know he can lean on me as well?” Her voice was dejected. “How is he to cope? How do I help him?” Tears began to run anew down her already dripping cheeks.
“Be there for him.” Celeborn watched as she peered backwards at the white crests, churned by the Elven ship. “When he least expects it, he will reach out for you. It might be in his sleep, it might be when something absurd bothers him. He will fight against it, but eventually, it will happen. He might even lash out at you, but it is because he will not know how to ask you for your help.” He hugged her tightly.
If he held her any closer, she would be on the other side of him. His body responded to her nearness and he stepped back a nudge so as to not cause her any embarrassment.
Her tears flowed freely. Whether she grieved the loss of two of her children or if she hurt for Haldir, he did not know.
“Celeborn.” He thumbed her ear in acknowledgment. “When your daughter… was captured, how did you deal with your anger? Your pain? How did Elrond deal with it?” She looked up to him. “I am sorry. You do not have to answer that.”
He looked down at her and gave her that funny half smile of his. “Yes, I do need to answer it.” The cold spray was cooling the temperature of his body and he pulled her around to his side. ” How did I deal with the atrocities? How did Elrond? I cannot answer for Elrond, but I…”
Celeborn took a deep breath, remembering back all those centuries ago. “How did I deal with it?”
For a few minutes, the only sound was that of the waves.
“For many weeks, I held Galadriel tightly in the night, in the day. She was strong for our people, but when she was alone, she grieved so. And I was strong for her. When she was surrounded by her attendants, busy with the affairs of Lothlorien, I rode my horse as hard as I could. I went into the plains and rode that horse until it was ready to drop. I screamed. I went to the archery field and shot arrow after arrow. I looked for Orcs everywhere, ready to butcher them to the last.” His hand dropped to her shoulder and he chuckled mirthlessly. “I killed so many. And killing them was not enough. I had to slaughter them… each one had touched my daughter. Each one had… defiled her. I took my fury out until I could no longer raise my arm, raise my sword. Elrohir and Elladan found me, caught up with me.” Celeborn’s eyes stared into the night. “They got me rip roaring drunk. And then, I cried.” His arms pulled her close again and had one not known them, it would have been thought they were lovers.
She whispered it so quietly, he almost missed it.
“He turned his back on me, Celeborn. I reached out to comfort him and he turned his back on me.”
That infuriated the Elf Lord.
He looked down at the woman held tight in his arms. How long had he dreamed of holding her thus? For over a century, she held him at arm’s length, they had held each other at arm’s length and for good reason. Truly, he did not want more than her friendship. But the knowledge that Haldir, unable to deal with his own grief, had turned his back on the one who loved him more than he did himself? Well, that was…
She was looking at him with tear-filled eyes, her mouth in a glorious pout. Not a childish pout, but one born of pain and deep sorrow. He could hardly remember a time in the past few months when she was not crying. She felt good here, warm and soft.
And Haldir had turned his back on her, when she attempted to comfort him? And needed it so horribly herself?
He leaned down, not meaning to do anything but whisper his apology.
It never came out. Rather, his lips brushed hers gently, lingered, before pressing sweetly.
There are kisses that are heated with passion. This was not one. There are kisses planted by children. This was not one of those, either. Rather, it was innocence personified. It shocked the Elf Lord in its simplicity, its honest candor. He knew what honey tasted like and understood completely for the first time why Haldir was so possessive of this one woman. Although her mouth did not open completely for him, her tongue caressed his lip and his tongue slid around the bottom of hers before he freed her mouth.
“I am sorry, Celeborn. I cannot give you more.” She truly looked sorrowful at the revelation. “Please do not ask it of me.”
“It is not you who should apologize, tithen aras, but I.” His voice was a pained whisper.
Bronwyn laid her head on the chest of the Elf, her hand patting gently at his waist. “Do not fret yourself. It is our secret. Besides, it was just a kiss.”
Ah. His eyes closed. The one you love turns his back on you and what I have fantasized of for a century was ‘just’ a kiss to you. For the first time in over a millennia, Celeborn felt put in his place. It was a humbling experience.
“Celeborn?”
“Yes, tithen aras?”
Mischievous eye burned brightly up at him.
“But it was one hell of a kiss!”
Celeborn smiled and pulled her closer to him, enjoying her body heat.
They stayed that way for an hour.
***
Long before the sun peeked over the horizon, Bronwyn blearily made her way down to hers and Haldir’s cabin. The bed was a mess, the covers tangled and twisted around Haldir’s body and it was apparent he had thrashed in the night. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, she laid the cloak on a chair and stripped off her damp clothes. She slid into bed next to him, curling into his body.
Suddenly, without warning, he rolled, pinning her beneath him. His eyes glittered in the dark.
“You sought comfort elsewhere.”
“Wha-“
His knee thrust between hers, prying them apart. “You sought comfort elsewhere.”
“No-“
“Do not deny it.” He settled himself, angry hardness against her curls, probing, without thought… “I felt it. If you want comfort, if you need comfort, I will give it to you…”
Immediately, she knew…
Celeborn’s words.
It might be when something absurd bothers him. He might even lash out at you, but it is because he will not know how to ask you for your help.
But still..
The fury burned within. He should know better…
“No! I did NOT seek comfort!” She smacked him hard on the shoulder. “I sought answers, you Neithadol!” Haldir’s eyes flashed and narrowed. ” I am not the only one who left family behind, you sorry sack of shit!” Her eyes filled with tears and she grasped him by his hair. “You are hurting and I don’t know how to comfort you. You won’t let me. I am not you, but I am not weak or insipid or totally without a backbone! Yes, I went topside. Yes, Celeborn joined me there. Yes, he hugged me. Held me even. I asked him how he reacted when Celebrian was taken and how he handled the pain, grief.” She felt Haldir’s breath jerk inward. “But I did not seek comfort.” She smacked him again. “Help me help you, you shit head! If you must take me, if it helps ease your pain, fine. My body is yours; you know it and I would never deny you that. But do it in love, in need, not in anger.” Haldir was staring at her as if she had grown a second head. “I love you,” she took her index finger and began poking him between his eyes, “Help me to help you. What… do… you… want… from… me?”
Haldir’s fury fled in a rush. It felt as if he had been immersed in a pool of ice water. What did he want from her? Vindication for her imagined tryst? Understanding?
“Baraermin, I do not wish you to think I am weak…”
“Weak? Is this what this is fucking all about?” She was now poking him on the shoulder. “That I would think you weak because you grieved just a little bit? That I would think you weak because you leaned on me? Because you needed me? Forgive my stupidity, but it is my understanding when two are bonded, they share the burden equally. You might be my Shield and Guardian, but I’m also your wife, you rat bastard. I’m your helpmeet. Key word here – Help!” He released a pent up breath of air and rolled to the side, bringing her with him.
“I do not know how to do what you ask.” He pulled her closer. “I do not know where to begin. I do not know how to express… I would never willingly hurt you, you know that… I thought you wanted… ” Her hand rested on his chest, kisses planted on his shoulder. “How do I begin?” he whispered.
“Just talk to me.”
So he did. Haltingly at first and then in a rush, like water released from a dam. Feelings, memories, long pent up rage. And soon the tears spilled unbidden, flowing, joining hers.
And only after the sun had long been up, did he take refuge in that most hallowed place, in her arms.
***
So save me I’m waiting
I’m needing, hear me pleading
And soothe me, Improve me
I’m grieving, I’m barely believing it now
Secret Smile
Semisonic
***
“Mother? Can we talk?”
Faeowynne looked down at her mother, who sat on turn wheel of sorts. Bronwyn looked into eyes of… fear? Faeowynne? Afraid?
They had now been out to sea for a week. Every evening, she and Haldir stood at the back of the ship, facing Middle Earth, calling, talking to Beckett.
We are fine, Mother. We miss you. We miss Ada. Hell, we even miss Faeowynne. We miss Legolas and Rumil and Gimli and Celeborn. Please tell Thranduil to go home already!
And now, this one child, who was never afraid, stood in front of her, wringing her hands…
“Faeowynne?” Bronwyn stood up and reached forward. “What is wrong?”
Faeowynne looked around and led her mother to the very front of the peaked prow of the ship. She smiled nervously.
“I have good news, I think.”
Bronwyn looked at her askance. “You think you have good news?”
She licked her lips nervously.
“I’m pregnant.” She looked relieved at the admission.
Bronwyn took a deep breath. “You are what?”
“I am pregnant.”
Bronwyn looked out into the waters. She spied dolphins playing in front of the prow. “And did the father by chance come along?”
“No.”
“Ah.” Bronwyn continued to look ahead. “Do I know the father?”
“Elladan. Elrohir.”
“WHAT?” Bronwyn jerked her eyes to the girl. Faeowynne was now looking out towards the waters, smiling, her fingers twirling in her long hair. “You are pregnant by both?”
“I am having twins… one by each.”
“One… by… each.” Bronwyn felt the beginnings of a headache. “How…”
“Well, I had them at the same time, mother… stop flapping your jaw like that. You know, if you were not so tied and in love with Ada, you would have done them too…”
“CIRDAN!!!! Turn this boat around!” Bronwyn started to stomp off to find the Captain, but ran headlong into Haldir, who had felt her fury build at an incredible speed.
“Baraer? What is the matter?”
“Go ask your daughter!” she spat and stalked to the rear of the boat where Celeborn and Legolas stood, watching the proceedings.
“Why is it, when they do something to displease her, they become my children?” As Haldir turned and approached his daughter, she immediately shrank. But soon, her courage waved and Haldir’s voice carried in the wind…
“CIRDAN! Turn this boat around!”
They were unable to get the entire story from her until later that afternoon in their cabin.
Haldir paced. His jaw ticked and he yanked viciously on his back braid. Bronwyn was at a loss for words. “Wwwwwhy? Melko’s Chains, what possessed you to do something so… so…”
“For me. For Elrond.”
Bronwyn was now rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. “You do not even know Elrond.”
“No, I do not. But I know his children. I knew Arwen. I liked her. I know the Twins. I liked them. They were not going to the Undying Lands and they were leaving their parents alone. I have heard you talk about him. Ada and Celeborn have such respect for him. I did not want him to be alone. I do not want him to hurt like you and Ada hurt for Anselm and Beckett.
Bronwyn sank into the chair at the small table and put her head in her hands. Strong hands – Haldir’s – kneaded her neck. “Couldn’t you have just made him a pie?”
Haldir scowled, playing over the words he had heard his daughter say. “You did not want him to hurt like we are? Faeowynne. Why did you come with us? Do you really want to come to the Undying Lands?”
Faeowynne had sunk to the berth, her hands between her knees. “Honestly? It makes no difference to me. One place is as good as the other. But all my life… always, I knew Beckett would stay. And when Anselm and I were young, I could tell she would too. But I knew you, Mama. I knew you, Ada. You would hurt so. I just wanted to alleviate the pain some for you. I just wanted to be with you.” For the first time that Haldir could remember, he saw tears in this child’s eyes. “You speak of Elrond in such revered tones. Everyone talks about his kindness, his intelligence, how much he loved his wife, his children. When we step off this boat, he will be there, looking. Hoping. And we will have to tell him Arwen is dead and his sons are not coming, that they will eventually die and fade as well. His brother chose to lead a mortal life. He will hurt, like you hurt for Anselm and Beckett. It isn’t much, but I thought if I could give him a part of Elladan… a part of Elrohir… and you will miss Turlough and Ariella and Merilinde and little Orophin, so I just… wanted to ease… give…” She flung herself into Haldir’s arms. “I just wanted you to myself for a little while. Beckett was The Firstborn, Anselm, your baby. I just want a little piece for myself!”
There was nothing but sounds of sobbing and quiet reassurance from the cabin for a long time.
***
Bronwyn recognized the elderly little man finally on the deck late that afternoon.
“Sam? Samwise Gamgee?” Her face split in a smile as she stooped down to embrace him.
“Bronwyn. I haven’t seen you since you married. You haven’t changed a bit.” A smile split the crinkled face.
“Forgive my rudeness, but… how did you manage passage to the Undying Lands? I saw Pippin and Merry. They went to Gondor…”
“And died probably.” Sam was always straight forward. “I was a ringbearer. Only for a short time, but I was.” Bronwyn sat next to him while he told her of the Scourging of the Shire, how Frodo had finally gone on and left him and his wife and children BagEnd. How Merry and Pippin had actually grown up. He told her of his and Frodo’s escapades through the Dead Marshes with Gollum, through the Wastelands, how they were captured and released by Faramir. Their run in with Shelob and sneaking under the Black Gate.
Bronwyn listened. And remembered.
And she remembered what Celeborn had told her of Legolas, so the day after, she cornered him at the prow of the ship and asked him of his childhood, of his Ada.
When Legolas was done, she felt much better of leaving her children and grandchildren in his capable hands.
***
I wake up in the morning
And I raise my weary head
I got an old coat for a pillow
And the earth was last night’s bed
I don’t know where I’m going
Only God knows where I’ve been…
Blaze of Glory
Jon Bon Jovi
***
They arrived in the Undying Lands on a sunny day. They were greeted by many, including Elrond.
Sure as expected, the moment Bronwyn came down the plank and grasped him by the hands, his face fell and he murmured, “It was a frivolous hope, a useless dream…” She gave him the final letter from Arwen, hugged him close, and introduced him to Faeowynne.
“Wait a few days, Elrond. We have some news for you.”
Galadriel was there as well, serene, confident that her husband would be on this last boat. Celeborn tried to be nonchalant, but ended up running to her arms.
“Let us find a room, wench. I want to ravish you from dusk to dawn for days!”
She smacked him playfully. “Such behavior is unseemly!”
“Unseemly behavior? Let me tell you about unseemly behavior!” He lifted her in his arms and darted down the road.
They were not seen for days and when they finally emerged from where ever they had hidden, their grins were very… unchaste.
Sam found Frodo and together, they hobbled off, barefoot in the grass.
Rumil, Legolas and Gimli slipped off with a beautiful blonde Elf and a thin raven-haired Elf.
Soon, the crowds dispersed and Bronwyn and Haldir found themselves looking up to Gandalf.
Gandalf looked dubiously at the small pack of wolves that had accompanied them and narrowed his eyes. “Are they… tame?
“Well, they are housebroken…” Ludwig rolled his eyes and nosed Sebastian and Clara, as if to say ‘Get a load of the hat on that human!’
“I suppose the three of you would like to know what arrangements have been made for you?”
“I had wondered.” Haldir was retaining his March Warden attitude.
Gandalf inclined his head to a wagon… several wagons… loaded with trunks. “I took the initiative when my personal space began to become loaded down with trunks and when Elrond ran out of room, to have a place made ready for you.” he nodded to Bronwyn as they got behind the reins and clicked the horses forward. ” I hope you do not mind.” The wagons rolled slowly up a side road, along the cliffs.
When Bronwyn saw what place had been made for them, she smiled deeply.
Her cottage. They – the Valar, the Elves – had reconstructed her cottage.
She ran indoors, where Orophin and Tomasil awaited them.
Orophin smiling, laughing. As he had a century before when she first met him.
And when she looked around, and saw boxes, boxes everywhere…
And saw her things.
The clutter.
Her instruments.
And sheets of music.
And in a back corner, found, her piano.
Steinway, full- sized concert grand. 1938 E class. Twelve feet long.
She turned to Haldir…
He was scowling, taking in the mess, the unorganized haphazard… Iluvatar’s Balls, this would take weeks to sort through. Months… years even…
…and flung herself into his strong arms, smiling.
“Finally, we are home, darling!”
***
tbc
***
Nyeeradín, Celeborn. Nyeeradin. N’ista sut dín anta.
He grieves, Celeborn. He grieves. I don’t know how to help him
Bronwyn’s Sword inscription:
“Mana lúme caita syadlla?: “When is the time to thrust down your sword?
Mana lúme lerya quingalla?: When is the time to hand over your bow?
Mana lúme hehtanë siklla?: When is the time to sheath your knives?
Mana lúme mappe eppessëlla?: When is the time in which to claim your titles?
Er Valar quetuvar.”: Only when the Valar say thus.”
The calling of the Earth:
“Serkenin naa a Arda: “My blood is of the Earth
Arda naa a serkenin: The Earth is of my Blood.
Naem er, Naem atya: We are One. We are the Same.
Naem weerenen ullume : We are forever joined.
Hanyo allasse ar nwalma.: I am aware of all of her joys and sorrows.”
I would get nowhere without Novedhelion to do all this lovely translation. Thank you!
zee's muse 