Chapter V: The Fall of Dol Guldur (Pt. II)
“Before the sun rose, I went to see about Nenduîl and Tárimë. They slept soundly in their chambers as I watched them—their innocence I protected and coveted. Time had kept from me memories of my youth. I could barely remember when I was their age.
“Ada,” Tárimë said softly as she sat up. “Are you going away again?”
“Yes,” I answered as I sat beside her. “But not for long.”
“I do not like it when you go away,” she said.
“Nor do I, Tárimë,” I said holding her. “Do you think I like being away from you and your brother?”
“No,” she answered. “But when you are gone, Nenduîl teases me all the time.”
“I do not,” Nenduîl said as he walked over. “You tease me all the time.”
“That is because you are just awful,” his sister said. “Boys are just awful.”
“Ada is boy,” he said. “You think he is awful as well?”
“No,” she said. “Just you and Aranduil.”
“Come now,” I started. “Be nice. I do not want to leave thinking you are not getting along.”
“We get on alright,” Nenduîl said. “When Tárimë is elsewhere.”
“Nenduîl.”
“What,” he asked. “I like my sister. Sometimes.”
“You wish me to leave and worry about you while I am gone,” I asked.
“No,” they said.
Nenduîl sat beside me as his sister climbed on my lap.
“So I have your word you will be good for Eldôr?”
“Yes, Ada” Tárimë said. We like him. He tells us lots of stories. Just like great grandfather.”
“Is it true you ran around without anything on when you were little,” Nenduîl asked.
“I did no such thing,” I said. “Now back to bed both of you.”
“You did do that,” Tárimë said giggling.
I kissed her forehead and tucked her in as she continued to giggle. I picked up Nenduîl and carried him to his bed and tucked him in.
“Behave,” I said, kissing his forehead. “I will return.”
“Yes, Ada,” he said. As I left the room, I could here them both giggling.
When the doors were shut I made my way down the hall where I met Fëaluin, Nimlos and Elranduil.
“Let us leave now,” I said. “Pray we return before the call comes from Lothlórien.”
We made our way out of the gates where our horses were prepared.
“Elranduil,” I asked. “Where would Nenduîl get the idea I ran around without anything on when I was little?”
He laughed as he and the others mounted their horses.
“Do not look at me, cousin,” he said. “It must have been Father. I did not say a word. I hardly remember, it was so long ago.”
“You mean to say it is true,” Nimlos asked. “I thought you were lying.”
I mounted my horse and rode past them without saying a word as they tried to hide their laughter.
“I will deal with you later, cousin,” I said beneath my breath.
We headed down the familiar path of Forest River leading toward Dale. As the sun rose, the city—grander than the ruins we had left long ago with Erebor rising high above nearly touching the sky as it lit up with the coming of a new day. The closer we came to the city, the more figures I could see—men and dwarves alike. The flags of Erebor and Dale flew side by side. Once inside the square, we were met by a man and a dwarf followed by others.
“I knew you would come,” the elder of the dwarves said as I dismounted.
“Of course, I would come, Dwalin,” I said. “How could I not come?”
“Dale welcomes you,” the young man said. “I am Bard, son of Brand.”
The younger of the dwarves stepped forward cautiously—a youth at his side.
“I am Thorin, son of Dáin,” he said. “This is my son, Durin. We welcome His Majesty, King of Mirkwood.”
“Thank you,” I answered. “I wish it were for a happier occasion.”
“Of course,” Dwalin said. “Come, there is food and drink prepared for you in Dale’s great hall.”
Several men took our horses and we followed the group toward the grand gates of the palace above.
“It has been some time since I saw you last,” said a dwarf with hair and beard red as fire. “You might not remember me. I am Glóin, son of Gróin. I came into your kingdom with a company of others.”
“Yes,” I said quietly. I was still ashamed of my actions.
“I had the pleasure of meeting your son in Rivendell,” he said. “Legolas, I believe is his name.”
I felt a warm feeling run through me that someone had seen Legolas. I could feel my face smiling.
“Yes,” I said proudly. “Legolas is my son.”
“He is out there fighting alongside my son, Gimli,” he said. “I hope both return to us in one piece.”
“How else would they come back,” Durin asked
“Not good,” said a little boy that had come along side Durin. “Not good at all.”
“Bain,” Bard said. “Quiet.”
“Yes, father,” he said.
I looked around and felt a sense of familiarity again. Bard, though younger than his ancestor, looked liked him—brown hair with soft green eyes—and Thorin looked a great deal like Thorin Oakenshield—his long brown hair and beard surrounding eyes of blue.
We reached two great doors opened by several guards. Before us stood a beautiful maiden with golden hair and sharp brown eyes.
“This is my wife, Aurëwyn,” Bard said, taking her hand.
“It is an honor to finally meet you,” she said bowing.
“Finally,” I asked as everyone was shown to our places.
“Yes,” she said taking her seat. “I have heard many things about your kingdom from my father. His father’s uncle had been there once. I wish they were here now. They both died in the war.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” I said. “What was the name of your father’s father’s uncle, if I may ask?”
“Haldúir, Your Majesty,” she said. “He was a very old but dear man. He fell at the gates of Erebor beside King Brand and King Dáin. It was foolish but I think he wished to die. He had not been the same since his beloved wife died. Arímë was her name. I do not remember her. She died a long time ago.”
My heart sank in that moment. I could not help but see Arímë’s face in my mind. The cousin of my beloved Êlúriel. I looked across to see Elranduil’s expression—it was the same as my own I was sure.
“Well, tomorrow we shall lay the dead to rest,” Thorin said. “We shall honor them for their deeds foolish or otherwise.”
There was an unsettling silence as we dined together. When we were finished, we were shown our quarters for the night. Lit by lanterns, the stone walls were covered with fine tapestries. I watched as the day fell to night and the moonrise casting a gentle light throughout the valley.
I felt shame again. I wish I had let Arímë see her grandchildren again. I believed it must have taken her life never to see Nenduîl and Tárimë again. As I thought, I heard a knock at my door.
“Enter,” I said. It was Fëaluin. “What is it?”
“I know what you are thinking, Thranduil,” he said. “I always do.”
“You are worse than Eldôr,” I said.
“Then might I suggest you think more quietly,” he said.
“I wonder if Aurëwyn knew her father’s father’s uncle was married to one that was once one of us,” I said. “Perhaps that is she told us her story.”
“No, she doesn’t,” he said coming to me. “Bard said as much.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“Men may die never to return, but they leave many tales behind from one generation to the next. His father told him and his father before him and his father before him.”
“Bard knew of this?”
“Of course he did,” Fëaluin said. “Whether he knew of her relation to Êlúriel I do not know.”
“I feel horrible,” I said. “Arímë must have died of a broken heart.”
“Your conscience is clear,” he said. “She died from whatever took her daughter.”
“Is there any place left in this world where death does not linger,” I asked.
“I am afraid not, Thranduil,” he said. “It will always linger for it has nothing but time to do so.”
We spoke no more that night. After a while, he left me alone with my thoughts. Looking into the shadow of Erebor, all I wished to do was return home.”--Excerpt from TKWR Book III: To Eryn Lasgalen by J.M.Miller 01-04-17
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