Coming Full Circle

1345
“Well done, my lad! ‘Twas a long tale to recall, but it is yours now, forever!” Adalgrim praised his son. The twelve year old grinned, shyly pleased by his father’s words.
Adalgrim took up his harp and with a quick wink towards the young lass hidden beyond the open window he began to sing.
Esmeralda drew a deep breath, trying to resist the impulse to join her voice to his. Her mother said she was too young to train as yet, but next year she would choose: Great Smials and a ‘proper’ education, or music and her father’s wandering road.

~~~~~~~~~

1346
Silence hung coldly over everything, unbroken and unbreakable, and she watched as her uncles passed with their sad burden. Her father followed, but there was no comfort or reassurance to be found there, no word or song or sweet lament had crossed his lips since yesterday. To Esmeralda, in her child’s sorrow, it was as if the Sun had died and the Moon hidden His face. The world was hushed in grief.
Yet as they came to her mother’s waiting grave, birdsong echoed through the morning air, and she felt her heart answer. Somewhere, somehow, music and joy lived on.

~~~~~~~~~

1382
Adalgrim smiled up at his daughter, eyes clear for one miraculous moment. Reason, shattered by grief these forty years, shone bright beneath death’s coming shadow.
“This one is special, Esmie,” he murmured, laying a frail hand upon her pregnant belly. “Teach him well.”
“Da?”
“This is for him, for your son,” he said. Silver and gold shone in her palm as he pressed her fingers closed. She had never seen her father’s hand without that ring.
“But Paladin…!” she protested.
“Your brother’s heart sings no more… He has forgotten everything. But I know that you remember, Esmie. Teach them both…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1424
“…So you see, you already knew all you needed, save for this,” Esmeralda finished, smiling.
Merry considered his mother’s revelations, the true origins of a lifetime’s trove of songs learned at her knee.
“Only one thing more,” she added, pulling a fine chain from her neck.
The ring threaded upon it felt alive in his palm, filled with history and her warmth.
“Mother..?” Fear made the word tremble; this had only ever been passed at death, it seemed.
Esmeralda smiled reassuringly. “I’m alright… I only ever held it in trust for you, as you must for Peregrin, or his son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1434
“I’ve something that was meant for you,” Merry said, holding up a twisted ring. He and Pippin were sitting together, watching their lads tumble in the summer grass. Paladin’s nearby grave was slowly greening over.
Pippin took it gingerly, turning it over.
“Your mother’s ring?” he asked, puzzled.
“Grandfather’s… And mine, for now,” Merry replied, taking it back.
“I thought you said it was mine!”
“It will be, if you still want it when you know what that means.”
“So long as it isn’t magic,” Pippin quipped.
“Oh, no… The only magic here is in the song and the singer…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1434
“It is indeed of elven make…” Legolas said.
“You remember it, then?” Merry asked.
“No,” Legolas shook his head. “I would have been very young if the tale is true.”
“Two thousand years is a long time, for hobbits anyway. Still, the ring has been passed down, father to son, along with the songs… But I don’t think they were ever meant to be kept secret,” Pippin murmured thoughtfully.
Merry nodded. “We almost lost them all.”
Legolas watched resolve brighten Pippin’s face.
“No more secrets,” the young Took suddenly declared.
“Then sing, harper’s scion!” Merry said, love and laughter in his voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, cierre, min heorte!
Oh, child of the land!
Through the storms of the world
‘Neath the StarKindler’s hand
Greet the morn with your song
Give your love to the day
Drink the sun and the rain
Under skies bright or gray.

Oh, cierre min heorte,
From what heartbreak may wreak
Find the solace of friends
When the Dark does you seek.
Run roots deep in the land
To hold fast against all
Once you start on your path
It will not let you fall.

Cierre, min heorte,
Where by oldest of ties
Lord the falcon and stag
Over wood and blue skies
In the deep hearty loam
Beyond searching and grief
Down the long years have come
Saplings grown to full leaf.