This is for Perelleth’s birthday, inspired by some comments she made waaay back in May concerning one of my favorite Elves.

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The Wait of Words

“The travellers now rode with more speed, and they made their way towards the Gap of Rohan; and Aragorn took leave of them at last... and the Lady said to him: ’Elfstone, through darkness you have come to your hope, and have now all your desire.  Use well the days!’  But Celeborn said: ‘Kinsman, farewell! May your doom be other than mine, and your treasure remain with you to the end!’  With that they parted... “

= Lord of the Rings – The Return of the King – Book VI – Chapter 6: Many Partings =  

Vaulting down from the saddle, Elessar negligently tossed the sweating Roheryn’s reins at the waiting groom.  Close on the royal rider’s heels, a knightly rider stuttered to a quick stop that had the horse over his haunches, and an anxious Rámon hastily dismounted.  The King was not waiting upon him and already headed into the large tent that was His Majesty’s Pavilion.  From the flanking torches’ depleted state, it was obvious that they had been lit early in apprehension of their late return from what should have been a simple leave-taking.  Glimpsing their lord’s face, Elessar’s personal guards, who might have asked as to the reason for the delay, instead stiffened to attention as he strode swiftly past them without a glance.

A hitch in his hurried steps, Rámon caught up to the one who was his lord but also his friend.  He fell into limping pace behind the taller and older man, following him inside when no one else would venture it.  Once inside, he allowed himself a heavy sigh of relief that they had returned late but intact.  At least they two had arrived without mishap, and he was thankful for both their sakes.  And for no injury to their horses.

Elessar had watched until the departing company was out of sight.  He did not move until long after retracting his namesake from o’er his head, where he had held it aloft in farewell.  Only as the dusky veil of the also departed sun began to draw away to reveal the twilight curtain of rising stars did the King then turn his horse and go from the place – springing away at a reckless gallop into the gathering gloom.  His sudden unspoken action surprised the knights of his escort, who fumbled at first then followed in discordant thunder behind.  If not for having been gifted a better mount than any of theirs, Rámon would also have been stumbling after; without Elessar as guide, perhaps to crash in the darkness of the night rushing forward as swiftly as their horses.  But, darkness did not confound the King who had been a Ranger called Strider.

Odd as it was, even if one remembered that strange fact, when invited to accompany his lord upon this journey, Rámon had not reckoned on racing headlong through wilderness at nightfall. 

Although now shielded from scrutiny by canvas walls, Elessar continued to act detached from his surroundings.  It was his routine when coming in from riding to proceed through the separating drapes to his more private chamber to divest.  This time he did not.  He simply halted at dead center of the first chamber.  Rámon nearly walked into him and had to quickly stop then hop sideways a step.  Elessar did not turn to wink at the near faux pas.  He just stood still, staring and silent.  Not cloak, gauntlets, nor helm did he discard.  His sword, always the first thing laid aside, remained at his side.

The King’s valet, Halphir, was at hand.  As he had oft times done before when his lord master appeared to need assistance, the fellow stepped forward unbidden to help lift the crowned helmet from Elessar’s brow.  But he was waved off with the same abnormal disregard dealt the groom and guards and knights.  As if their duty was of nuisance rather than of aid.  Halphir went into the private chamber and brought out a cup from where surely it had sat ready to welcome its owner with refreshment.  That service too was summarily dismissed.  The cup got set upon the tray-table beside the King’s Chair, and the useless hands that placed it there withdrew behind Halphir’s back.

“Is there anything Your Majesty requires?” the faithful servant asked in a decidedly neutral tone.

“No. You may go.”  The curt reply carried no more emotion than had the question.  Halphir had learned his lord’s moods well enough to know when it was wise to cosset him in spite of protest and when it was much wiser to leave him to himself.  Or in this case to Sir Rámon.

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing to the King but also directing a pointed look to the King’s noble comrade before exiting.  Thus with a slight nod, Rámon officially took over watch upon their distracted liege.  After all, he acknowledged to himself, the foremost reason he was here was for the King to have someone to confide in.

Evenstar had personally asked him to stay by Elessar’s side instead of going home, his war service done.  So well did he love the new Queen and King, he had accepted her sincere request and for anon sacrificed a well-earned retirement.  He would therefore remain with Elessar for as long as his friend and prince continued to stand here in body, his thoughts very far away.  Rarely had he seen his lord so distracted, and it was not hard to figure that the last words of Elessar’s Elven in-laws were what had affected him.

However, what was said was said, and the people who said it gone.  By whatever cause, Rámon felt it was for him to dispel the King’s odd mood – and to ease a friend’s anxiety.  Resolved to accomplish that much if naught else, he drew a steadying breath and prepared a calculated plea.  If he could get his lord to move about, it might rouse Elessar out of his current state into a different if not better frame of mind.  For once, his nagging wounds could be an asset rather than a deficit.

“Aragorn, have pity on my poor legs and sit down so I might.”  Elessar abruptly turned to look at him, his distant expression changing to guilty.

“Apologies... I am being inconsiderate, aren’t I… ”  He had replied in the same lax mode of speech, instead of taking affront.  Which Rámon took as a good sign his ploy could work.  “Go on and sit,” Elessar insisted, gesturing at the chair next to his.  “You know you don’t have to stand on ceremony with me.”  The King had a dry sense of humour, but whether he meant to make a bad pun, Rámon was unsure.  So, he ignored it.

“Well as long as we’re not straight away going off again.”  Said to point out that they had not as yet doffed any gear.  “Hurts more than helps to sit down only to have to get right up again.”

“Not my intention... “  Off dropped Elessar’s cloak to be left where it fell.  His unbelted sword got slung over the corner of his chair’s back, nearly oversetting it.  His helm he pulled off to lay it upon the small table, where it rolled slightly and threatened to knock over the goblet he had earlier refused.  His removed gloves were dropped into his upturned helm, steadying it.  He practically flung himself into his chair which, with all the furniture being of the portable kind, protested loudly but held up bravely.

Rámon also removed his gear – while closely watching for further clues that his lord might be coming out of his sulk.  He arranged his things in much the same manner, save his cloak which he bundled up in his lap to lightly lay over his knees when at last settled into his seat.  To his disappointment, after being momentarily pushed down, Elessar’s distraction resurfaced unmitigated.  He sat staring – forearms balanced on armrests, hands floating lax over his lap, his long legs crookedly stretched out before him – once more isolate.

The weight now off his feet, Rámon’s legs felt suddenly and wincingly sore.  Perforce, he sat not speaking until the burning sensation subsided, and he could again work on Elessar’s pain rather than his own.

“Aragorn?” he ventured, trying to convey his own unease in a tone that would demand an answer while remaining respectful.  He kept an intense gaze upon Elessar, willing for him to respond.

After a long moment, his gaze was finally returned.  At first, there was reticence in his lord’s eyes.  Then, he lightly sighed in surrender.  He would talk, if that was what a concerned friend was asking of him.

“I’m just ruminating... ” he said in a slightly self-conscious way.  He glanced at the cup upon the table.  “You thirsty?”

“No.”  He was not.  Elessar was not either.  His lord had asked out of courtesy or for diversion.  “Perhaps a smoke... it’s been two whole days.”

“No, I promised to cut down.  So, don’t tempt me again, please.”  He welcomed Elessar’s wan smile.

“Hers was good advice, though.”  He did not hesitate to address what he was certain was actually bothering his lord.  He intentionally chose to broach the matter by way of the Lady’s cheerful admonishment rather than the Lord’s glum wish.  “You should enjoy your successes – ”

“By the mercy of the One,” swore Elessar; suddenly sitting up straight, hands gripping his chair’s armrests, his words heavily laced with irritation.  “She gives not advice.  She herself has claimed that loudly many times, for she is a wise seer who knows her best counsel has always been in giving warning and not guidance.  Even so were her parting words.”

“No, not at all!”  For all of his own perception of there being further meaning in the pair’s words than of the words themselves, Rámon considered Celeborn’s more a cause to brood than Galadriel’s.  “A fair acknowledgement and at most a nudge to remember to keep your bride happy.”

“Or a compromise with her conscience.  ‘Use well the days!’  Days, Rámon.”  His head bowed as his emotion-clouded eyes looked down at his discarded cloak.  “I pray that Lord Celeborn’s blessing will aid me in averting what threatens my beloved ere comes my inevitable departure from this world.”

“You esteem the Lord doom-saying above the Lady’s encouragement?”  He prudently refrained from voicing an even harsher opinion of the Elf-lord whom Elessar held in great respect.  Rámon did not think it kind, especially of her own grandfather, to be careless of Arwen’s certain grief at living on after the loss of her beloved husband.  And seemingly because Celeborn did not wish for Aragorn to be bereft of his lady wife as he was clearly convinced he himself was soon to be.  “If that was a blessing, thank goodness he was only melancholy and not dour.”

Elessar abruptly laughed aloud.  Then did Rámon realize how his sarcastic remark must have sounded, and he was truly thankful for his lord’s reliable sense of humour.

“Forgive me, my lord!  I wasn’t saying that about you –”

“And my moods?”  He smiled, ruefully bemused.  “Really, I don’t mind if you compare me to Celeborn.  There is no ruler I admire more for all that he speaks as often from temperament as from nobility.”  He gave a slight shrug.  “Don’t we all?”  With a gentle chuckle, he shook his head.  “You think as you do because you know him not.”

“Since you do, enlighten me.”  He indeed wanted to know why Elessar had showed such pride at being addressed as a kinsman by someone most people saw as a mere prince consort.  Yet while at court and in the King’s company, Rámon had never seen any among Celeborn’s family or familiars show disdain towards him, but always respect, obedience, loyalty, and trust if not also affection.  Nor had he heard any of them say anything disparaging about him when there was ample opportunity.  Celeborn’s Galadhrim subjects had clearly felt it an honor to be personally addressed by him.  Between the Lord and Lady themselves, Rámon had observed that she showed him as much deference – and sometimes more – as he showed her.  There had to be better reasons for such regard other than being Galadriel’s helpful husband.

“He would say it matters not what you think of him.”  Elessar’s faint smile became sharply defined.  “Yet despite that apparent attitude, he would expect for you to listen well to all he deigns to say.  Else show yourself unwise.”  Rámon could see that this was the very thing his lord had been doing: thinking upon what he had heard, trying to glean greater wisdom from both their farewells.

“I’d like to know why one should listen.  That is, if it would please you to explain... ”  Talking was noticeably helping.  Besides, Rámon thought he might learn something worthwhile about both princes in the process.

“Very well.  But remember – you asked.”  Elessar paused, leaning back and crossing his legs; much more relaxed than when the conversation was begun.  “You must have heard many times by now the songs of Frodo of the Nine-fingers and the adventures of our Fellowship.  So, you know we were given much needed succor in Lothlorien after Gandalf was thought lost.”

“Yes, and of how you were greeted there.”  The annoyed look on Elessar’s face caused Rámon to regret saying that additional bit aloud and as a judgment of character.

“A bard’s retelling must at times favor art over facts, I grant.  Nonetheless, it should contain some semblance of truth,” Elessar declared.  “From what’s been sung, one might indeed think Lord Celeborn merely petulant at not being told about Mithrandir.  Or take umbrage at his treatment of Gimli.  But then, anyone who does – ”  He bit back what he was going to say and exhaled slowly.  “... lacks perspective.  However, a discussion of that particular scene can wait for another time.  It does not illuminate your issue as much as another entirely left out of the popular lays.  Although... “ he thoughtfully paused.  “Because it is somewhat relative, I will say for added clarity that our parting gifts were from both our hosts.  This heirloom – “ he touched the green stone where it rode upon his chest “ – is from Arwen’s mother, not her grandmother who saw to its delivery.  Galadriel’s gift to us was lembas.”

“What of the cloaks made by her and her ladies?”

“Issued to us, as they were to all their marchwardens.  The lowliest archer received the same boon as we.  It’s just that we were outsiders.  The generosity that best matched the gift of lembas was the boats.  Those were as vital to the Galadhrim as sound chargers to Dol Amroth’s cavalry.  And an even more limited commodity.”  Elessar’s face hinted at strong sentiment he tried and failed to completely hide.  “The boats were entirely from Celeborn, and especially appreciated by me.”

“He aided your Fellowship greatly, no doubt.”

“But only after the Lady told him he should?” he lightly teased, not deceived by Rámon’s condescending remark.  “Another thing to talk about later.”  He took another pause to once more resettle himself in his seat.

In spite of Elessar’s warning about asking, Rámon teetered on begging for him to stop.  For the new expression on Elessar’s face was the one that always came across when the subject of conversation was Boromir.  And Rámon had found a dislike at hearing contradictive details about the heroic deeds that had saved the world from the Dark Lord.  Especially if they were about one of the lords that he admired most.

“On the day of our leaving Lorien, we feasted the Elven New Year upon the hythe,” Elessar recommenced.  “Celeborn was giving us some last advice ere our departure.  He spoke specifically to myself and Boromir of the perils of Fangorn’s forest, saying that it was a place to avoid, knowing its lord to be uncharacteristically hasty with intruders.”  A twinkle sparked in Elessar’s eyes.  “Fangorn had much the same opinion of the Lord of the Golden Wood.”  He heaved a resigned sigh.  “Boromir – as it was ever his nature upon all occasions to speak bravely – did so then.”

“He was indeed brave,” Rámon softly interjected.

“As you yourself know.”  Elessar was well aware that he and his father had served directly under the Captain-General.  “For you have fought beside him too.  Any who has stood with him knows his courage and loyalty.  Any that has walked with him knows his great leadership.  He was much more than his public portrayal.  Whatever might be said of him by others, we who knew him well know he was a true prince of his people.”

Rámon nodded in agreement, but also in understanding.  Elessar was saying the same about Celeborn.

“So as you can expect, Boromir pronounced his confidence in overcoming any challenge and reduced the very real dangers of Fangorn to old-wives’ tales.”  A reminiscent smile came to Elessar’s lips.  “The Lord took his speech to imply what he himself had to say was worthless myth.  Not Boromir’s fault that he was also unaware of the particular respect ancient Eldars hold for the female gender.  So, Celeborn considered his behaviour an arrogant dismissal of hard-earned wisdom – whether his own or that of old wives.”  Elessar’s expression changed to disgruntled.  “I was quite pissed at Boromir myself.  His unintentional offense caused Celeborn to cease his good advice, since it appeared it would never be heeded.  ‘Then, I need say no more.’  Announced with unmatched haute royal.”  His previous smile returned.  “Though, not his last words.  ‘But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.’  And now you are one of the few that know how those very words changed dire events in the Houses of Healing.”

“That was by your powers not some Elven spell!” he protested.

“Applying the remedy, yes.  Finding the remedy?”  Elessar shook his head.  “I think not.  If Daeradar had chosen not to speak for my sake, dear friends would have died.”

“Seems to me his remark was merely coincidental.”

“There have been too many such coincidences.  I for one have learned to listen well to what he says.”

“Then if he has this power, why was he not clear?  Why not tell you plainly to look for an old wise-woman who would give you the herbs you would need and when you would have need of them?”

“Galadriel might have done so, for her guidance tends to be dictatorial.  A tendency she has been more successful in curtailing than her lord husband with his tendency to lecture.”  He offered a sardonic smile.  “Flaws for which I have been grateful on both accounts.  After the fact anyway.”  He inhaled slowly, taking in a deep breath.  “She said: ‘Use well the days!’  I admit I would have preferred no words to those few.”  What was left of the breath came out in a soft affectionate huff.  “When it comes to giving advice, Celeborn’s manner is to map out a way to an opportunity where it lays amidst circumstances.  Always with an alternate path in mind.  His route is never fixed.  There are choices.”  Elessar cocked an eye at his companion.  “The Lord is an inveterate planner at heart, and someone who dislikes it when well-laid plans are upset.  Yet despite complaints, he can swiftly remedy those ruined plans.”  He opened a hand palm up in a visual gesture.  “Where she can discern the dangers that lay unseen in heart or mind... “  He opened the other hand.  “... he can name the dangers that lay out of sight, ill-considered.  Well and good to see far ahead, but when you can name what you will see... ”

“You have power over it.  And they are more powerful together than apart,” he realized.  “She sees what can happen and he sees how it can be opposed.”

“Not opposed!” Elessar said in a raised voice.  “The Children of Eru have been gifted with Free Will.  Just as importantly, Eä with Chaos.  Fate is too strong a force to oppose.  But, the natural flow of history cannot be easily diverted from its course either.  Every design requires wise engineering to succeed.”  Rámon heard the resonance of a stern teacher in that philosophy, a teacher other than Elrond.  An apologetic smile followed the adamant lecture.  “Excuse me, please.  But I believe that Celeborn has an affinity to these preternatural forces as much as to Nature itself.  He can redirect what most would deem inevitable.”

“Why then say he is himself doomed?  What did he mean by lamely addressing your inevitable fate at a detriment to the Queen’s?”

“Ah, I see now, “ Elessar said, looking newly aware.  Then, unhappy that Rámon should think Evenstar slighted by her grandfather.  “If you think him careless of Arwen’s fate in favor of mine, you are wrong.  He is much too clever and practiced to fail either of us, one for the other.”  His eyes narrowed.  “Look around you at the toll of this long defeat ere a meaningful victory.  Look what it has demanded from those that will not surrender.  See you any great queens left in Middle-earth save one?  Where once there were many?  It doesn’t just happen that the only one left is the lady wife of Celeborn the Wise.  Among Men as well as Eldar, they are all gone – dead, slain, and passed away.”  Sympathy replaced examination.  “Soon his, and in accordance with her own wishes.  Little wonder his heart is as burdened as Elrond’s is bitter.”

“You think he could stop her... ”

“Yes, because he has done so before.  But in this last age of the Elves, most of their kind will go from Middle-earth anyway, for they are weary.  He will do nothing to make her stay longer... and nothing will make him go with her as long as his people here have need of him.”

Silence fell upon them, until Rámon decided he wanted to cheer up his lord as well as lift his mood.

“Very interesting, all this speculation about simple farewells.  But really, Aragorn, theirs was a parting from you, not a prophecy for you.  They spoke a wish that you and Arwen be happy – because you are together at last.”

“So, you would say my mere presence is my lady’s greatest joy?” Elessar asked with a soupcon of humour.

“Of course, it is!” was the grinning reply.

“Well then until my departure from this life: the more, the longer, the better.”  Rámon smiled broadly at a king possessing the bawdiness of a common soldier.  Elessar grinned in return, then turned somber.  He looked to Rámon, as if for reassurance.  “But I ask myself, can I do for my lady’s sake what Celeborn has done for his?  Can I succeed where he with all his wisdom and powers has been felled?  And not by the nemesis of all Elves, sea-longing.  But, by the choices of his beloved.”  He frowned.  “For ages, Daeradar held off the separation, the loneliness.  It might be that one of the ways he did it was to eschew a king’s crown.”

“Ironic that a king’s crown was exactly what you had to acquire.”  Rámon became suddenly alarmed.  “Say not that you think to discard yours!”

“Certainly not!” he laughed.  “Fear not that I would emulate Celeborn in that way.  Although, it does impress that he – not born heir to a throne and rejecting that glory many times over – did wed the Lady Galadriel.”  His smile pulled tighter.  “I don’t think she has ever saw my course being that much the same as his.  Else he might have taught me how to go about liege-work without the added benefit of a crown more by instruction than example.”

“Even so, I think you have put too much importance into his moody ramblings.”

“I suppose this last was a sad blessing, speaking more of endings than beginnings...  Nevertheless,” and he wagged a finger at Rámon, ”more than a blithe warning.  The Queen’s joy and her very life are from here on in my hands, and I need to do more than keep an eye out for threats if our happiness is to survive into old age.”

“Shall you await attack or will you prepare a defense, My Captain?” Rámon jokingly challenged with the panache of a spear-carrier in a holiday pageant.

“Ha! Another of Daeradar’s favorite lessons: preparation is prevention.”  Elessar was clearly glad again, freed of sullen worry.  Which genuinely gladdened Rámon.

“With that slogan alone, you’ve convinced me, my lord.  Celeborn the Wise justly deserves that title.  But now, allow me to offer some ordinary advice: you best prevent a new bride’s loneliness and not linger about here longer than needed.”

“Indeed, good friend!  Please inform the camp-master that we prepare to leave with the dawn!”

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The quoted statements of Celeborn and Galadriel are taken directly from “Lord of the Rings” by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Rámon – loosely translates as ‘wing-man’

Daeradar – grandfather Sindarin

lembas – elven waybread Sindarin