Chapter 2 – Part 3 Unexpected Surprises
Chapter 2 – Part 2 Unexpected Surprises
Chapter 2 – Part 1 Unexpected Surprises
Chapter 1 – A Staircase of Stars
Chapter 3, Part 1 – The Ring of Doom
by Silent Draco
Galadriel, with bowed head and shoulders, spoke quietly and earnestly with her son by marriage. While Earendil ventured with little hope but great courage to the West, Elwing has cast herself and the Free Silmaril upon the mercy of Ulmo, Lord of the Deeps, when the Kin-Strife struck in the exile following the Fall of Gondolin. Galadriel recalled the Doom placed on the departing Eldar. She dreaded what her fate might be, should she be found unrepentant. Both felt the pain of age-long partings, and hoped for reconciliation.
Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam gazed about with amazement at wonders great and small, asking many questions of Olorin, taking delight in the most prosaic of humble details in field, wood, and house, until he laughed quietly and spoke: “Yes, yes … but we draw near, dear friends.” His visage sobered as he continued. “You are now on your very best manners, far better than for King Elessar in Minas Tirith, for behold,” he now murmured, “they are assembled.” The thrones and seats were occupied, and several others stood within, cloaked in gray raiment.
Eönwë entered the Ring and bowed with great reverence first to Manwe and Varda, and then to the others, saying, “O Lords and Ladies, set here by the Word of Eru Himself, I bring before your judgement those who crave pardon and seek healing, of long sojourns and great labours.” Then entered the Wise, each bowing with grave dignity to the Valar, the Lords of Aman the Blessed. As they entered the Circle, Alue the Smith gestured subtly with his right hand; the Rings that each bore flared with brilliance, free of taint: Master Elrond was now shown as a scion of the Houses of Finwe and Elwe Thingol; Galadriel, swathed in fairest samite and adamantine silk; and Olorin, robed now in shades of autumn hues fraying to blazing scarlet. All were revealed in their power, great in Middle-Earth but subordinate to the masters of Arda.
The Halflings followed them, almost as though dreaming. To their horror realized they were clothed only in their travel-worn garb of long years past. Looking up from their bows, they saw the Eight seated, others standing. Above and about them loomed the fair and tragic remains of the Two Trees, trailing mournful branches in faintest hope; they shivered in awe, recalling the fragmentary songs and verse taught to them, and only now grasped at the true glory and tragedy behind them. “Oh, now we’re in it!” Bilbo sputtered quietly to Frodo. “Elves! All this singing, not a moment to make ourselves ready … raiment … here of all …” At this, Tulkas burst forth in laughter. “Come, Master Pheriain!” he said at last, “what better garb to wear, than that which records your victorious and heroic deeds? Every injury, every honorable wound, every striving is written on face and fabric! Your battle honors are on brave display!” “My Lord Tulkas, I thank you greatly,” said Olorin, laughing like a rain of gold. “Never have I beheld Bilbo Baggins so flummoxed in all my travels!” Laughter and welcome echoed around the circle, as the Halflings flushed to the roots of the hairs upon their toes
After a time, Manwe glanced at Mandos, who declaimed: “Let all hear and obey the judgement of the Valar.”
“Olorin, known as Gandalf on your sojourn as one of the Istari: welcome, and we offer thee our great praise and thanks. For clothed as a Man did you destroy Grignarz of the Host of Balrogs in honorable single combat, then return and contest against the Great Enemy’s minion, known at the last as Sauron, leading to his overthrow and dissolution. Stand at our right hand, beloved servant of Eru.” Olorin bowed deeply, white staff in hand, and moved to the place of honor.
“Master Elrond, great among Elves and Men, herald in the first War of the Ring: welcome. You were born into the Great Exile, of great and noble forbears, and thus were under the Doom. You used your power to heal, succor, counsel and sustain. Our pardon and welcome is freely granted.” Varda stirred and continued, “Master, our heart also aches; we are aware of thy sorrow, but from yours and those of your line, come enduring joy and hope for all the days of Arda. Be welcome in the gardens of Lorien for healing and consolation,” a tall figure lowered his grey hood, “Elwe, Thingol Greycloak thy grandfather, shall abide with thee, to render all sorrow and bitterness into beloved memory and joy. Be comforted and rejoice, for thy Line shall never fade from Arda.” Elrond wept as Thingol embraced him.
Varda continued, glancing to Galadriel. “And, child, what hast thou to speak unto us?”
Galadriel stepped forward, hesitant, and fell to both knees on the verdant grass before Mandos. Bowing her head, she spoke plainly and simply. “I crave, nay, beg, pardon for rebelling against your counsel and command, O Lords. I acted rashly and departed in foolish pride. I repent of my sins, and strove to undo the harm and to continue the long struggle against the Dark Lord and his servants and minions.”
Varda looked into her eyes, reading the sorrow and woe therein, and said, “Verily, she repented in full. She also is marked with great sorrow, for her pearl shall also go beyond this world: Arwen Undomiel.” Galadriel fell prostrate, torrents of tears cascading in grief and sorrow, for partings beyond the world and for Ages of pride and pain. Manwe looked down in compassion, and nodded to Mandos. The dread Lord spoke: “Child of the House of Finwe, you departed in hasty pride. I have watched and heard of your deeds in recompense of your sin, turning from our will and counsel. You have labored unceasingly for three Ages of the outer world against the darkness of the Great Enemy known as Morgoth, and against his minions. You are forgiven for your pride, having learned wisdom through great sorrows.”
Reaching out with his right hand, Manwe raised her. “We grant our pardon and remove the Ban from thee, restoring you to your rightful station. Go also to the Houses of Lorien, the eternal one, in the care of thy mother.” And she was led gently aside, to a bright figure: Idris, daughter of King Vanwe of the Vanya, wife, her mother. Both wept bright tears, reuniting after Ages of separation.
Manwe then raised his left hand and beckoned the Halflings forward, mien impassive. “Another Doom takes precedence.” Mandos bowed deeply and stepped aside. Bilbo and Frodo stepped forward with Sam at their side, slowly and reluctantly, and knelt before the Elder King himself. “It is that of Eru Himself, that the Blessed Realm be not marred with the presence of Mortal Man – or Mortal Halfling.” They paled at this, greyer than the remains of Telperion, Eldest of Trees. The ground trembled deeply and faintly below them. All was silent for long moments, save the faintest whisper of music, or perhaps a memory of the Second Song.
To be continued…