Title: THE GOLDEN BELL OF GREENLEAF

Author: lwarren

Disclaimer:  The characters and settings of Middle-earth belong to JRR Tolkien.  I merely borrow them for a time to play with!

Summary:  Legolas comes to a deeper understanding of the Song and the sea’s call, while Aravir begins his own journey of discovery.

A/N:  Many thanks to Eruanneth_Luin and Alassiel for their patience and beta skills.  I wish real life would leave me alone…

Chapter 17:  The Gift of the Sea

          He stood on a high cliff overlooking a wondrously fair and lush land.  Everywhere he turned, his eyes beheld a vista of such diversity he could scarce take it in; immense forests and wide, rolling plains of undulating grass…majestic mountains standing sentinel to mighty rivers rushing towards the distant sea.  He found each view overflowing with rich, vivid colors, and enveloped in air so soft and sweetly scented with the fresh green smell of growing things his senses were overwhelmed.  The light possessed a clarity that magnified the beauty spread before him ten, nay, a thousand fold, while meandering through the sights and scents sounded the clarion call of bells ringing.  The clear notes of each bell, interwoven with the melody of the land, spoke specifically to him; a summons of the heart to come home, to rest assured of his welcome here.  He could barely breathe for the yearning that suffused his very being.  Hot tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision.  In that moment, he knew there was nothing he wanted more than to descend from the heights and lose himself in this fair place the rest of his immortal life.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

          Aragorn lifted his eyes from an absentminded perusal of the fire just in time to catch sight of a faintly gleaming figure gliding past the camp on a direct line towards the forest.  He jumped to his feet, snatched up a nearby torch, and murmuring a quick order to Jarrod, set off at a loping run after Legolas.

          The elf, unaware of his friend’s pursuit, had not traveled far into the wood before he came upon Calen and Raen seated beneath a large oak growing beside the shallow stream that wound fitfully through the trees to empty into the sea several miles away.  Hidden somewhere in the oak’s leafy canopy perched the singer of the haunting melody that wafted over the forest like falling leaves drifting on an evening breeze.

          Legolas halted before the oak, searching the upper branches of the tree for Aravir.  Raen and Calen stood at his approach, watching him quietly.  Calen touched his brother’s shoulder and the twins exchanged uneasy looks.

          When they had returned from fishing, Arador had apprised them of Aravir’s condition, and they had all agreed this was not their problem.  Still, Raen and Calen had worried.  The King and his men guarded Lord Legolas, while Aravir was alone.  In the end, they had found it impossible to abandon the elf.

          Their grandfather had told the boys in no uncertain terms that, as neither the captain nor the Prince were human, their decision to stay by the tree constituted an outright intrusion.  They had remained anyway.

          In the face of his grandsons’ stubborn resistance, Arador had thrown up his hands and stalked back to camp.  “Stay then, if ye will,” he had called over his shoulder in a stiff voice.  “But do not be surprised if the Prince does not thank ye for yer interference.  The sea-longing is a private, personal thing among the Firstborn, especially at its onset.  Ye do not belong.”

          That parting shot had sobered both boys considerably, and as darkness fell, they had built a very small fire to provide a measure of light and warmth during their vigil.  Now, Prince Legolas was here, and faced with his possible rejection, they sensibly decided to remain quiet…and hope that the elf would not see them.

          Not see us?  How in the name of the Valar could he possibly miss us?  Calen felt a bubble of hysterical laughter threaten at the thought, and Raen, sensing his brother’s mood, elbowed him in the side.  Calen clamped down on the laugh and shot Raen an appreciative glance.

          Heedless of the two young men who waited breathlessly for his notice, his keen hunter’s eyes trained intently on the dark branches overhead, the golden haired elf remained silent.  Looking at the distant, grim expression on the usually open, friendly face, Raen could only think that his grandfather had been right, after all.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

          Aragorn broke from the trees into the small glade suffused with the warm yellow light of a fire and the ethereal glow of the stars.  In that light stood three figures, images carved like statues out of the night itself.  Aragorn paused briefly, studying Legolas’ stiff expression and posture before moving to stand quietly at his side.

          Smoke gray eyes flicked over the twins as Raen stepped forward and took the torch from the King’s hand.  His slight nod of thanks and approval eased the boys’ tension considerably.  Calen took a deep breath as his brother released the one he had been holding.  They had not been certain their presence would be appreciated…the King’s nod had at least made it acceptable.

          Long minutes passed; the little glade undisturbed but for the soft susurration of the stream and an elf’s hushed song of longing.  A hunting owl suddenly swooped down from a nearby tree, ghosting across the stream to snatch a quick meal on the other side.  The night breeze quickened, sighing through the trees and ruffling the men’s hair with careless fingers.

         The movement and sudden shriek of an unseen prey captured seemed to shatter the tension abruptly as Legolas started, his eyes reflexively scanning the opposite bank of the stream for danger.  Finding none, he heaved a great sigh and bowed his head, the golden hair falling forward to partially conceal his face.  Aragorn laid a hand on the tense shoulder and squeezed slightly, a gesture of comfort offered…and still no one uttered a word.

          Finally, Legolas lifted his head and Calen smothered a troubled protest at the crushing guilt plainly etched on the fair face.  The Prince looked at the man beside him and whispered, “I told him not to come, Estel.”

          He drew a shuddering breath.  “He would not listen.  His only thought was for my safety and well-being.”

          Aragorn’s grip on the elf’s shoulder tightened as he replied softly, “You could not have kept him away, gwador nin, any more than you could have kept me from coming to your side.”

          The King’s gaze grew more intent.  “It was HIS decision.  He came for many reasons, Legolas, not the least of which was his love for you.”

          Legolas turned and met his friend’s eyes, his own silver bright.  He nodded.  “I must go to him.”

          Another deep breath and he appeared to steady.  “Perhaps I can help.”

          He laid his own hand over the strong one gripping his shoulder.  “Hannon le, Estel.”

          Aragorn bowed his head slightly in response.  Legolas turned to the twins, who had moved to one side and stood watching the exchange with concerned expressions.

          “Thank you both for looking after him,” the elf said, laying one hand over his heart and bowing to the boys.  “Go with the King now…I will see you back at the camp later.”

          Without another word, he looked up and sprang lightly onto a low hanging branch.  Aragorn and the twins watched him quickly vanish into the night and the concealing leaves of the oak.

          “Put out the fire, Calen,” Aragorn instructed.  “And Raen, bring the torch.”  He handed Calen a small water skin and waited patiently as the boy quickly doused the fire, Raen moving to scatter the coals and make certain no spark remained.  The chore completed, they returned to Aragorn’s side.  The man placed a comforting hand on each youth’s shoulder and turned them in the direction of the camp.

          “Come,” he urged gently.  “Your daeradar will be concerned.  We will await Legolas and Aravir’s return at the campsite.”

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

          Legolas leaped from branch to branch, the skill as old and familiar to him as drawing his bow, his movement fluid and precise, his attention focused on reaching his friend.  He deliberately approached Aravir from above, not wishing to disturb the song or startle the singer into an unplanned descent from his perch.

          He dropped silently onto the sturdy limb, crouching beside the oblivious figure for a brief moment to study the closed eyes and rapt expression gracing his captain’s face.  The softly sung words spoke of a far green country of unspeakable beauty and Legolas knew exactly what Aravir was seeing…he had been there often enough in his own visions.

          Laying a hand on Aravir’s shoulder, he whispered, “I am here, mellon nin,” and proceeded to settle beside his friend to wait, dangling his long legs over the edge and leaning against the immense trunk of the old oak.

          Legolas lifted his eyes to the nighttime sky, gazing at the star-dusted magnificence framed within the sturdy branches of the tree and sighed.  His quick mind picked up the melody Aravir sang, as well as the counterpoint murmured by the tree, the rushing waters below, and the deeper, more compelling voice of the distant ocean.

          He began to hum a simple harmony, marveling anew at how all the various voices seemed to come together to form a glorious symphony of sound.

          Once more the truth shown to me by Nienna is affirmed; it has not changed since I opened my eyes in Eolyn’s room to become ever more aware of the different melodies of Ennor.  Perhaps the lesson will never end, from now until the end of days; that we all have a part in the Great Song…men…dwarves…hobbits…from the smallest living thing to…why, the very rocks of the earth cry out their own chorus to the music!

          He shook his head at the wonder of it all.  Even the Firstborn, whose time here is ending, still have a part in the song…and not only here, but in the song of Aman, as well.  Yet we of Middle-earth drown in our grief and longing, and fail to recognize our continuing importance on this side of the Sundering Sea.  Still.  Until the last of us takes ship.

          The elven Prince considered the simplicity of the Creator’s plan.  The perfection of His Song is not limited to the Blessed Realm.  And why would it be?  He is the One – the Creator of all.  Why should not the music here touch the deepest part of me, for has this not been my home also, since birth?  There is the home that beckons…and here the home that abides.  Both songs would resonate within me.  Both would offer comfort and strength, and I must learn to find that comfort until the time comes for me to leave these shores.  And when the time comes, I will take the melodies of Ennor with me when I go.  How could I think to leave behind the music of Ithilien and the Greenwood, the song of the Golden Wood and Rohan’s plains or the deep caverns of Aglarond, the White Tree…of Arwen and Aragorn…Gimli…

          His heart faltered at the painful thought of losing those dear ones…but I will not lose them entirely, and Iluvatar willing, the melody of our friendship and love will endure until we are reunited.

          Legolas felt an easing of the tight knot of grief that had gripped him since the day long ago when he first began to comprehend the finite lives of his mortal friends; a grief compounded since then by the cry of the gulls.  He swallowed a sudden urge to laugh.  How arrogant of me to believe I am the sole cause of Aravir’s predicament!  Arador tried to tell me I was part of a greater scheme…that we all are.  Aravir has his place also in the melody, and his awakening to the sea’s call is part of it.  My task now is to help others carry on, and not hinder them with undue panic and concern. 

          Legolas squared his shoulders.  He could do this!  He remembered the hundreds of years Aravir had spent guarding Thranduil and the realm.  “Unswerving loyalty” - words his adar always spoke when discussing his captain.  That loyalty, willingly transferred to the son, had become infinitely precious to Legolas as he had come to know Aravir.  The son of Thranduil listened carefully to his captain’s song, and with a thankful heart, added his joyful voice to the music.

          Those waiting nervously at the nearby camp recognized the new singer and immediately heard the difference in the music.

          “Ahhhhhh,” whispered Arador, closing his eyes and smiling.  “I do believe our Prince has realized the power and purpose of the Song.”

          Calen cocked his head, listening closely, and commented thoughtfully.  “I sense a great deal of relief now, Daerada.  I do not think the song itself has changed, has it?”  He looked at his grandfather.

          Arador opened his eyes and gazed at the young man waiting beside him for his answer.  “Very good, lad,” he said approvingly.  “Ye are right…the song has not changed – only the singer’s mood.  And if ye listen, ye can hear that Aravir is still longin’ for Elvenhome.  Legolas, though…now there is the difference.  Do ye hear the joy in the Prince’s voice, lad?  I remember the song he sang earlier today on the road to Linhir.  Sad, it was…full of melancholy and loss.  This is completely different.”

          He nodded, a satisfied smile creasing his weathered old face.  “Aye, as different as night is from day.”

          The old man leaned back once more against his pack and accepted a cup of tea from Raen, who sank down on the other side, listening intently as they spoke.  Arador sipped slowly and continued, “The call will still plague him from time to time, which will confuse him.  There will be times when he will feel completely unaffected…and time when the longing will wrench his heart right from his chest with its power.  If he will remember all he has learned on this trip, he’ll deal with it well enough.”

          “And Aravir?” Raen asked.  “Will he find a way to deal with the call?”

          Arador shook his head ruefully.  “He will deal with it, lad…or he will sail.”

          He set the empty cup down on the ground and pulled a blanket from his pack.  Looking at his two grandsons, he smiled.  “He is a strong-willed warrior, is Aravir.  I think he will find a way to counter the sea, as long as he believes the Prince is in need of his service and friendship.”

          Arador shook out the blanket and spread it over his legs, leaning back with a sigh of relief.  “Now,” he commanded.  “This old man is tired.  Get yer blankets out, lads, and settle down.  Tomorrow will come soon enough, and with it the trials of the day.”

          He turned over on his side away from the fire and settled to sleep.  Raen looked at Calen and rolled his eyes.  Reluctantly, the boys did as their grandfather had instructed and lay down.  Surprisingly enough, weariness claimed them both much more quickly than they expected, and they fell asleep listening to the elves’ new song.

          Aragorn, who had moved to the edge of the fire’s light where Arod and the mare had taken up their own vigil, listened to the conversation and found himself hoping that the old man was right.

          He draped one arm over the silver-white horse’s neck, stroking the warm, silken coat and murmuring soothing sounds to the restive animal.  Both horses had remained unsettled and nervous since Legolas had left them to go to Aravir’s side.  Upon Aragorn’s return from the woods, Arod had come quickly to him, but the mare had stayed apart, watching the man suspiciously.

          After a time, she had consented to stand at his side, sandwiching his tall figure between her own golden form and Arod.  Aragorn played with her long, pale mane and fondled her sensitive ears with his free hand, laughing softly when she shook her head and turned an impatient eye upon the irritating human.

          As the evening progressed towards midnight and the elves remained absent, Aragorn had a brief word with Jarrod and brought his own bedroll to arrange at the feet of the horses.  He checked their water, and welcomed a forlorn Thalion to the little group, rubbing the big bay stallion’s nose gently.

          “Our elven friends have much to answer for, do they not?” he asked the trio.  The nodding heads and accompanying snorts assured him there would be an accounting when Aravir and Legolas returned.  The King was still smiling at the thought as he lay on his blankets and lifted his eyes to the stars.  He sang a quiet hymn to Elbereth, and as Ithil set, finally found his own rest.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

          Awareness returned to Aravir after a time, but he kept his eyes closed and savored the peace of the forest’s song and the warm strength anchoring him to the tree’s limb upon which he sat.

          Anchoring…?

          He stretched out his senses warily and encountered the familiar presence of his Prince sitting beside him, one arm braced behind him for support.

          Ai, no!  I did not want to concern him with this!

          Aravir felt a glimmer of thought glide gently through his mind.  And just how did you intend to hide it from me, mellon nin?

          Aravir squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and sighed gustily.  I had not gotten that far, ernil nin.

          Light golden laughter sifted through his disquiet, and easing his eyes open, Aravir looked into the smiling eyes of Thranduil’s son.

          “You seem much recovered, hir nin,” he said, noting with relief the color and humor that had returned to the Prince’s face.

          Legolas nodded, his expression growing serious.  “I have made a rather belated discovery, my friend.  I think it will do much to make my stay here in Ennor more bearable – and perhaps now, yours as well.”  He paused.  “That is, of course, if you should choose to linger.”

          “How could you think I would leave if some way could be found to help me stay, pen-neth?” Aravir questioned gently.  Legolas brightened at the words.  That was his wish also.

          “Now, tell me,” the captain continued.  “Is it found in the Song, my lord?”

          Legolas nodded.  “Yes, partly.  But perhaps, with your permission, it would be better if I showed you.”

          Aravir smiled.  “Proceed, hir nin.”  As he bowed his dark head, the first lilting notes of a song he had only imagined drifted through his mind, and he willingly gave himself to the beauty and majesty of the music.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

          The night had nearly spent itself when two graceful figures dropped silently to the ground and stole through the woods to the edge of the men’s camp.

          “Should we wake them?” Aravir asked softly, his eyes taking in the sleeping figures of the men resting by the remains of the smoldering fire.

          “Nay, let them sleep,” Legolas replied as he scanned the group, identifying Arador, the twins and each member of the King’s escort.  But where was Estel?  He looked across the camp, straight into the molasses brown eyes of the King’s captain, who had apparently drawn the last watch of the night.  Jarrod lifted his hand slightly in recognition, and gestured towards the lone figure bedded down near the horses.

          Legolas leaned towards Aravir.  “Come.”  The two faintly luminous figures moved soundlessly through the camp to stand over the sleeping man.

          “He must have had to settle the horses last night after I left them,” Legolas murmured, eyeing the bundle at their feet fondly.  All that was visible was a shock of dark, unkempt hair, but Legolas easily recognized those loud, rumbling snores.

          The elves slipped past the sleeping King and gathered their mounts, admonishing the three to keep quiet and follow.  Legolas turned to Jarrod and pointed towards the distant beach.  Jarrod lifted a hand in reply.  When King Elessar awoke, he would tell him where his friend had gone.

          Legolas caught up with Aravir and greeted Arod and the mare with warm strokes and whispered praise for their forbearing natures.  It took some time to appease Arod, however.

          You disappeared into the forest and the men would not let us follow.  The other one was fearful for his rider and would not calm…which caused the mare to become most afraid. 

          Legolas listened patiently to Arod’s litany of woe and did his best to quiet both horses.

          I am sorry, Arod nin.  Forgive me.  Saes, mellon nin, I did not intend to worry you so, but when I returned to awareness, my first thought was of Aravir.  He had heard the call of the sea also, and I was afraid for him.

          Arod accepted his rider’s apology and caresses - eventually.  The mare was just glad to have Legolas with them again.  The group wandered across the sand and downhill to the shore, the docile pair keeping their elf close by and in the middle.

          Legolas turned laughing eyes to Aravir, who had one arm thrown around Thalion’s neck and said contritely, “Ai, Aravir!  I have caused them much worry and grief – see how I am contained between them, much like an errant elfling between two wise parents!”

          Aravir laughed at him and replied, “Believe me, neth ernil, I know precisely how they feel!  One cannot fault their punishment either.”

          Legolas huffed and endured a nudge from Arod for his trouble.  “Come along then, pen-iaur,” he ordered his captain, giving the big horse beside him a good-natured shove in return.  “Let us go and greet Anor.”

The elves and their four-legged escort trotted forward across the sand towards the sea.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

          Aragorn came awake in one great rush, knowing almost instantly the horses were gone.  He leaped to his feet, looking around wildly, only to be stayed by a strong hand on his shoulder.

          “My lord,” Jarrod said soothingly. “Slowly…they are fine.”

          Aragorn turned to him.  “Where…?” he asked hoarsely.

          “Lord Legolas and Captain Aravir fetched them right before dawn and took them down to the sea,” the guard explained, pointing in the direction of the beach.

          Aragorn’s eyes snapped back to examine Jarrod closely.  “Legolas?” he asked eagerly.  “How did he seem, Jarrod?  And Aravir – did he appear well?”

          Jarrod nodded reassuringly.  “They both looked fine to me – and right glad to see their horses again.”  Aragorn relaxed slightly and both turned as Arador, who had been tending something over the fire, approached.

          “Porridge and toasted bread is ready, my lord King…and some leftover grilled fish and fresh fruit, too,” he announced, ticking off the breakfast menu cheerfully.  “Come and eat and then we’ll take some food to our elven friends.  You did say they were on the beach, isn’t that right?”  Jarrod agreed and both men eyed Aragorn closely for a moment.  Arador cleared his throat.

          “Ah…yes.  Well…Ye’ll be wantin’ to wash up some before ye eat, my lord.  There be warm water and soap over there waitin’,” he said helpfully, indicating some buckets and basins set on the back of the wagon.

          The old man arched one eyebrow at the scowl now gracing the King’s handsome face, and grinned.  “Get ye over there and clean up, Lord Aragorn.   And while ye are at it, see if ye can’t encourage those boys to do the same.”

          Aragorn snorted softly and walked away, muttering under his breath about naneths and well-meaning friends, pointedly ignoring the smothered laughter of the two behind him.  He reached the two youths, who stood before the bowl of water staring at it as if at a coiled serpent.  Aragorn joined them before the basin, examining it with a jaundiced eye.

          “Here is fresh water for you, my lord,” a voice behind him said.  “All nice and hot.”

          Aragorn and the twins turned to glare at the Captain.  At a nudge from Aragorn, Calen dumped the old water and held the basin as Jarrod poured in the new.  The King sighed and looked at the boys.

          “Well, my lads, there is no escape.  I will if you will,” he challenged.  Shoulders sagging with defeat, Raen held out some soft soap to Aragorn.

Calen snickered and held out a towel.

          “All right then,” Aragorn said.  “Together.”  With much splashing and muttering, the three proceeded with their morning chore.  Arador brought them clean shirts and wooden combs, and received a well-aimed stream of water in the face for his trouble.  Finally, tidier and considerably more awake, the three joined the rest of the company to break their fast.

          They ate quickly with good appetite, finishing and each going to complete a chore around the camp afterwards.  The twins had heard the news that Legolas and Aravir were probably on the beach and had wandered off to look for them.  Aragorn had just joined Arador to help pack some baskets of food for the elves when Calen appeared, running toward them and yelling, “Daeradar!  My lord!”

         The excited boy slid to a stop a few feet from them, gasping for breath. “Come quickly!”  Ye’ve got to see this!”  He turned and ran back in the direction he had just come from.  Aragorn motioned off an approaching Jarrod, and lifted one of the baskets as Arador grabbed the other. 

          The two men hurried after the boy, just as he turned around and yelled again, “Hurry!  Hurry!” 

          “Most likely one of the big fish that swim offshore, my lord!” Arador panted.  Aragorn nodded, slowing his pace slightly to accommodate the older man.  They reached the crest of an enormous hill of sand where the brothers waited; gazing down at the beach below with identically fascinated expressions.

          The elves and their horses were playing.

          Playing and cavorting in the water.  And out of it.  Chasing each other, kicking great arcs of sand, running from the horses and the waves. 

          It was a marvelously graceful, energetic game accompanied by the sound of fair elven voices rejoicing in the bright clear light of a new day.  Aragorn sank to the sand, so relieved at the sight he doubted his legs would hold him.  He chuckled as Legolas took a flying leap over Arod’s back to avoid the rambunctious animal, drenching Aravir with the splash from his landing.

          The King reached into his basket and brought out a handful of strawberries and a crust of bread.  He motioned Arador and the twins down beside him.  “Let them play,” he ordered, popping a ripe berry in his mouth and grinning at them.  “Here, have yourself a second breakfast.  They will come when their stomachs are singing louder than their voices.”

          He chewed thoughtfully, his sea-gray eyes becoming pensive.  “Besides, you will not see this revelry often.  I, for one, intend to enjoy it…while I can.”  The little group settled on the hill, basking in the early morning sunshine and the music and antics of two wood elves, who, it appeared, had found some measure of peace in the sea.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

          The games ended.  The long day passed.  The tides rose…and fell again.  Arador stood on the sandy hill once more, watching the day slide towards evening.  From his vantage point, he could see the curve of beach, the roll of the sea…and Legolas and Aravir sitting beside one another, sometimes talking in low voices, sometimes singing softly.  Alone.  Together.

          He knew they were both still troubled and confused, although they seemed to be coping well with the sea-longing.  If only I could make them understand…Legolas is close…but Aravir is too newly aware and cannot see it as of yet.  He sighed.  In the short time since meeting them, he had grown to love these two as if they were his own; consequently, their pain was his.  Arador walked over to them and crouched down.  Two pairs of eyes, one pair deep evergreen and the other the stormy blue-gray of the sea, looked at him in surprise.

          “Come along, lads,” Arador invited.  “I’ve got somethin’ to show ye.”  He rose and started down the beach; confident they would follow, walking carefully as the path became steeper, rockier.  The waves no longer gently slapped the shore; they pummeled it.

          The old man finally found what he was looking for and motioned his followers over to a large pool of water some yards away from the shoreline.  He crouched in front of the pool, Aravir and Legolas on either side, and for the first time, the elves beheld a hint of the wonders contained beneath the waters of the sea.

          “What is it?” Legolas breathed.

          “It is so beautiful!” Aravir whispered reverently.  Arador sank to fully rest upon the sand, crossing his legs and leaning forward to examine the teaming life contained in the clear pool.  Brilliant colors exploded here and there in the form of shells and plants trapped in the crystal of the water, and odd looking creatures swam or crawled along the bottom.

          “There are pools like this scattered all along the shore, carved in the rock over the yeni, and left behind each time the waters withdraw.”  His bright blue eyes studied the elves’ rapt faces and he smiled.  As fascinated and attentive as wee children, they are.

          “And the life in the pool – it is left behind also?” Legolas asked, his eyes caught by the gently waving fronds of an exotic plant.

          “Aye, lad,” the old man replied.  “Left behind to remain captive to that one pool of seawater.”

          “Look at all the different kinds!” Aravir exclaimed.

          “Tis a small world within the water, Captain, where each depends on the other for survival,” Arador explained.  He had their attention completely now, sharply focused on him and his words.  “I know ye still have questions and doubts about stayin’, especially you, Aravir.  Though ye’ve both found relief in the Great Song and it eases the longin’ inside, ye still wonder if it is worth the pain of stayin’.”

          “Consider this pool, lads,” he continued.  “This world of Ennor is very much like it – and we are like its creatures; dependent on each other, whether we like it or not, for our very lives.”

          He dipped one hand into the water, letting it pool in his palm before turning to pour back, a silver stream glinting in the sun’s light.  “Can ye understand that though ye’ve had little to do with men until recently, we’ve always known the Firstborn were here?  Ye gave us stories, legends, and songs…whole chunks of our language; and that does not even address the knowledge we’ve gleaned from ye in the practical things.  Ye’ve been the magic in this world.  When ye finally leave us completely, we’ll be hard put to preserve the memory of that magic.”

          He bowed his white head, the sadness apparent.  “It is my prayer and hope that we’ll be able to keep a measure of it alive…and my fear that several generations from now, it will be lost.”

          Arador lifted his face, his blue eyes even more brilliant from the unshed tears filling them.  “All part of a whole – never doubt it.  And never doubt yer part here in this little world while ye remain.”

          He struggled to his feet and stood, looking down at the two elves, their heads bowed now, one dark as night, the other fair as a sunlit day.

          “There’s much to be learned from this small world,” he said softly.  “I’ll leave ye to study it.”

          Legolas raised smoke gray eyes to Arador, his face solemn.  “Hannon le, mellon nin,” he murmured.

          The old man laid his hand briefly on the golden head, and turned back towards camp, walking through the sand as capricious waves washed over his legs, erasing his footprints with their retreat.  Legolas and Aravir sat silently for a long time, contemplating the life in the pool and their own place in Ennor.

TRANSLATIONS:

mellon nin – my friend

daerdadar (daerada) – grandfather, grandpa

gwador nin – my brother (not related by blood)

hannon le – thank you

Ennor – Middle-earth

Aman – the Blessed Realm

Iluvator – the Creator of all

Ithil – the moon

Anor – the sun

neth ernil – young Prince

hir nin – my lord

ernil nin – my Prince

pen-neth – young one

pen-iaur – old one

naneths – mothers

yeni – a measure of time amounting to over one hundred years

saes – please