15

Chapter

SUMMARY: As the troop journeys to Dale, Thranduil shares some pertinent information with Rúmil.

The Wardens are greeted by the Royal family, then Thranduil shares his letter with Bard…

And Daeron arrives in Lothlórien, and meets Lady of Light and her Consort.

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"I think about you. But I don't say it anymore."

- Marguerite Duras

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City of Dale, 19th of September, 2942 T.A.

Thankfully the journey to Dale was without incident, and everyone seemed to enjoy the ride, as the Wardens chatted amiably with the group.

Thranduil was enjoying the sunshine and the cooler breeze, when Rúmil commented, "I imagine you are looking forward to seeing your family, My Lord."

"We try to minimize our separations, though I cannot shirk my duties to my Realm." He smiled sadly. "My human children grow quickly, and every moment is precious… Our youngest was quite ill recently."

"I am sorry to hear that, Aran nîn. Is she recovered?"

"Not quite. Lieutenant Daeron warns she may always be a bit delicate, but we are hopeful."

"My Lord and Lady were concerned to hear of Lord Bard's accident and all that followed. Did Daeron assist?"

"No. He remained with my children at the Palace to look after Tilda and the rest. Mithrandir," Thranduil smiled, "helped a great deal. I believe it is thanks to him we are still here."

Then the Elvenking moved his horse closer and his voice lowered. "I have not had an opportunity to speak with you, but there is something you need to know about King Bard. You see, our marriage is not between an Elf and a Man, strictly speaking…". After he explained Bard's choice, Thranduil said, "The people of Dale do not know this."

"Of course, I will not speak of it, but does Lord Bard fear they would reject him if they knew?"

"They are loyal for the most part, but Dale is less than a year old, and if you count the official start of the City, is merely four months old. These people still recover from heavy losses. Much is at stake, Rúmil. Lord Bard needs time to prove his worth as King, not only to the good people of Dale, but to other regions, who might see his new status as something to be exploited, and try to usurp him through whispering campaigns and such. He has to succeed, not only for his sake, but for Crown Prince Bain's as well.

"Life in Laketown was brutal at best before the Desolation, but out of a population of 14,000 people, only 9,000 survived those fires, and an additional 2,000 men, women and children were killed in the Battle."

"Ai! Gorgor!" Rúmil was stricken. "So few left; so many children!"

"It is tragic, but you will soon see that Dale is filled with hardy, industrious people, who are determined to move forward, and I am proud to protect them."

Thranduil changed the subject. "I knew Marchwarden Halfar, Rúmil. In fact, you look very much like him. It was an honor to fight alongside him and his Galadhrim in the War of the Last Alliance. He was an Elf of strength honor and integrity." The Elvenking looked at him seriously. "You should know that what Galadhrim did survive that war was due to him, and him alone."

The Warden's eyes lit up. "I am glad to hear you say that. I have little memory of my father, although Haldir speaks of him often."

"I would be glad to tell you stories, if you like, for I considered him a good friend. I think there are some other things about that Battle that you may not know or understand."

"Such as?"

"For now, let us just say your loyalty your Lord and Lady is well-placed." He smiled. "The rest can wait until some evening in front of the fire with some wine and good company. I think my husband might also find them interesting."

"I look forward to it, My Lord."

Soon, the plains before the city were before them, and then they heard the bells of Dale ring to signal their approach.

"It sounds like our people are eager to see these new Elves from far-off lands."

They both smiled as the roar of the crowd went up. Before they reached West Gate, Thranduil ordered Rúmil ride to his left, with the rest of the Galadhrim behind him, followed by their Elven escorts.

As they approached, the huge Gates were opened, and as he suspected, crowds of people lined the streets to welcome the Wardens of the Golden Wood.

As they rode through the winding streets, up toward the dome of the Great Hall in the highest part of the City, the Elvenking suppressed a grin when he heard the gasps of some young women and men at the sight of the proud Galadhrim. These Elves sat tall and graceful in their saddles, with their golden armor gleaming in the sun. With straight backs and their long, blonde hair blowing in the breeze, they truly were a beautiful sight, and he could understand the curiosity and awe of many of the folk in Dale. Children were smiling and waving colorful bits of cloth, and the men and women were shouting "welcome" to their guests. The Wardens were pleasantly surprised when several children ran up to them and offered flowers.

At last the reached the top of the City, and entered the Courtyard, where his family waiting on the dais, before the open doors to the Great Hall of Dale. Feren, Turamarth and the rest of the Royal Guard standing at the bottom of the steps in dress armor, and was pleased to Tauriel in hers, though he knew she loathed it.

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"Ada!" Tilda screamed, as soon as she saw him, and was jumping up and down, enthusiastically. "Ada!" She tried to break free from Hilda's grip, but Percy scooped her up, to keep her from running. Thranduil grinned and signaled her to stay there, then waved to his other children. Sigrid waved back, but Thranduil chuckled as her eyes grew like saucers at the sight of Rúmil and his troops.

Bain was standing with Rhys, Alun, Ben and Rhian and the rest of the Castle staff…

And there was his beloved Bowman... Thranduil's stomach did a flip.

Bard looked incredible in formal dress, with his burgundy cape sweeping over one shoulder, his black hair curled around his face and his neck gracefully. This Man needed no crown for anyone to know he was a King.

The group veered to the right, and circled the long way around the fountain in the Courtyard before they stopped in front of the steps. When the Elvenking gave the order, they dismounted with precision and grace, and soon the Galadhrim was lined up, ready to be introduced to the King of Dale and his family.

Bard walked down the steps. "Welcome home, My Lord Thranduil," he smiled, with the barest hint of a wink.

"It is good to be home, My King." The Elvenking remained regal and businesslike, but his eyes gleamed at his Bowman, before he turned to Rúmil. "I would like to present Rúmil, son of Halfar, Warden of the Galadhrim, and Captain of his unit."

"It is an honor to be here, King Bard." Rúmil spoke Westron with an accent indigenous to his people, but was easily understandable.

Bard held out his hand and clasped arms, warrior-style. "It's a pleasure to have you, Warden."

Bard greeted each of them as well as their children, who followed the Kings and bowed and curtsied politely, making Thranduil proud. He couldn't help noticing Sigrid seemed a bit flustered, but Hilda's reaction reminded him of when they first met, and he tried not to laugh.

After a short speech, Bard said. "You will be taken to your quarters to get yourselves settled, and there will be a Welcome Feast this evening, to introduce you to our people. Dismissed."

"Ada! I missed you!" Tilda held up her arms so he could pick her up. "Why were you gone so long?"

"And I missed you, my Tithen Pen." He kissed her soundly on each cheek, as he carried her up the steps. "I am afraid 'Kinging' means I sometimes have to go away. Have you been good for your Da and Auntie Hil? Did you say welcome home to Galion?"

"Not yet." She leaned from Thranduil's arms and hugged the Aide. "Hi Uncle Galion. I don't like it when you go away."

"You look well, My Lady. Have you been doing well at school?"

"I like it a lot." She told him, but before she could regale Thranduil and Galion with tales of her accomplishments, they were interrupted by the other children.

"Ada!" Sigrid came over and hugged him. "I'm so glad you're home!"

"As am I," he kissed her cheek, then tousled Bain's hair. "Hello, Ionneg. I think you've grown! Where is Tauriel?"

"Taking off her armor," the boy replied. "Hi, Uncle Galion! How was your trip?"

"Long, but I enjoyed it." The Aide replied, as the group started walking back toward their living quarters. "I do not have the chance to ride nearly as often as I would like."

Bain gave Galion a sidelong glance. "Come to think on it, I've never seen you on a horse before!"

"You have never seen him wield a sword, either. Perhaps you should; Galion who taught me my forms."

The dark-haired Elf grinned. "I am full of surprises, are I not?"

They entered the Sitting room, where the Elvenking put Tilda down and at last was able to embrace his husband.

"Suil, Meleth nîn." Bard held him tight, and whispered. "You almost broke our two-week rule, you know."

"I am sorry, Meleth. But I have a surprise for you."

"Oh, I know that…" Bard grinned wickedly, and kissed him.

"Eww!" Bain screeched and made a face.

"Da!" Sigrid gave them a look, as she covered Tilda's eyes.

"Hey!" Tilda tried to pry her sister's hands away. "Quit that, Sig!"

"What I mean is," giving the children a pointed look, "my cousin and his wife sent us a wedding gift." He took out the box from his things and showed everyone the cloak pins.

"You have a cousin?" Tilda asked.

"Celeborn, Tithen Pen, is the Lord of the Golden Wood, and all those blonde Elves that I brought with me live there, and serve him and Lady Galadriel."

"Oooh…" she smiled. "Is she pretty? Could we go see them?"

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When Thranduil entered their bedchamber to wash and change, Bard shut the door behind them, and gave him the kiss they both wanted.

"Mmm…" he buried his fingers in Bard's hair and explored his mouth. "I have been thinking about this for weeks," he whispered, before he kissed him again. And again.

"I've been thinking about a lot more than that," Bard grinned, as he grabbed Thranduil's hips and pulled him closer. "But it will have to wait until later." His mouth curled mischievously. "So... show your surprise, love. I can tell you've been on pin and needles since you got here."

"You know me too well." Thranduil reached into his breast pocket and removed the envelope. There is news."

Bard took it, then pulled him over to sit on the bed beside him, and read:

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My cousin, Thranduil,

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I will save the formalities for another time, as I have news you will be most anxious to hear:

Legolas accompanied the small band of Dúnedain that came to visit in June, and I am happy to report he looked well and fit.

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I regret not passing on this news to you sooner, but this information is too sensitive to trust to a messenger (thus the secrecy).

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When Mithrandir came to visit us in April, he spoke of many matters, including a detailed account of the events at Erebor and Dale and the unfortunate Battle that took place. I would like to congratulate you all on your victory and applaud your diplomatic accomplishments in the North since that terrible day.

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I also wish to convey my condolences for all those lost, for I know that will weigh on your heart for many years to come.

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The wizard spoke of you and your son, and asked that we keep a watch for him, which of course we will do. One does not need to know details to understand there are difficulties between you. On this, I merely want to convey my hopes that you will reconcile soon, my cousin.

I think you should know that Mithrandir was adamant, that the current whereabouts of Legolas Thranduillion must never be made common knowledge, for though the Enemy is banished, His spies are everywhere, and He is actively seeking ways to regain his position in the South of your Kingdom, and your son may be a target. Never again, until He is defeated once and for all, can your son travel openly, and he has been made to understand this.

Mithrandir has confirmed what my Lady sensed, in that our young cousin has an important role to play in future events. As the young Elf is without a guard, the wizard and the Dúnedain have given him the name "Beleg," and it was under this name with which he arrived, and his true name was never spoken.

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Beleg arrived in the third week of June, with his band of Dúnedain and stayed with us for two months, before they moved North of us to continue their work. Their current Chieftain had been scouting the area of Gundabad for news of Orc movement since it had been emptied for the Battle. I fear it will not remain deserted for long, and I will keep you informed.

We have visited with Beleg many times during his stay, and I must conclude that his time in the wilds with his new friends seems to have done him good. We have enjoyed his excitement and wonder as he glimpses the wider world, and the various people he has met. To date, they have not ventured West of the Misty Mountains, and do not plan to for at least another year.

He did not speak of you, nor did we press him, but I will tell you that when your name did come up in conversation, he displayed neither anger or resentment. A sadness that weighs him down, but I do not necessarily think it is entirely to do with you.

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Your idea to send him to the Dúnedain was a serendipitous one, Thranduil: Under an assumed name, wandering as a plain ordinary Elf, he is effectively hiding in plain sight and they have no idea where he is! At least for now, he is safer with them than he would be in the Woodland Realm.

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The Orcs, I am told, are to look for a blond Elf surrounded by guards in the Woodland Realm, and they have no idea he is gone, and I am in hopes that they will assume he died during the Battle. If necessary, you may want to instruct your Guardians to spread such a rumor, to further ensure his anonymity.

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Though Beleg does not yet realize his importance, he will continue to remain under the discreet and watchful eye of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Lords of Imladris and Lothlórien, not to mention our dear Mithrandir, who works tirelessly for our cause.

As happy as I am to tell you of these things, I must end this letter with some other news concerning the Ravens from Erebor – hence the other reason why this letter is hidden, Thranduil.

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My Wardens have found three dead Ravens, killed by Orc arrows, in the last month, near the Dimril Dale. We saw no remnants of messages, so we cannot be sure if any were intercepted, but I would strongly advise passing this news to the King Under the Mountain as quickly as possible. .

Since there will be more communication between our lands, we have decided to utilize a variety of winged creatures as a means to confuse our foes, and I highly recommend you do the same.

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I hope you enjoy your gift and would like to personally wish you and your King much joy in your new life.

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With my fondest regards,

Celeborn

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Bard put the letter down, with a wide grin. "This is wonderful news – at least the first part of it. How do you feel?"

Thranduil grew pensive. "As anxious as I am to see him, I… find that I envy him. I have never had the chance to wander anonymously and see the sights and wonders of Middle Earth. Do not misunderstand me: my status has enabled me to see more than the average Elf, but during these times I am on a schedule; almost every hour is mapped out for me by Galion!

"He isn't on holiday, love. He's working with the Dúnedain."

"But he is away from my dark, dank and wretched forest, Bard! He is seeing the world – something I have always wanted to do!"

"Tell you what," Bard put his arm around him. "If we do end up surviving this War, and we win, let's spend a few years traveling. I want to see as much of Middle Earth as I can before we leave. How about you?"

Thranduil smiled and kissed him, "I would like that very much."

Lothlórien, 30th of September, 2942 T.A.

Daeron's trip to Lothlórien had been a pleasant one, at least after the group left the Woodland Realm.

No one was going to pretend they enjoyed riding through a dark forest full of enchantment, and the Galadhrim escort were gracious enough not to make it less than it actually was. Still, the company of their Galadhrim escort forced Daeron to see the woods of his homeland through fresh eyes, and he found himself mourning for the forest in a way he hadn't before.

When the Elves from the Golden Wood expressed their hope that the Forest would be cleansed one day, to pass, the Woodland Realm unit appreciated it.

Daeron had ordered them to stop at the Gate of the Realm, to pay homage before the statue of Queen Mírelen.

"She was very beautiful," The one called Airen commented.

"She was kind and labored endlessly for her people. Everyone who knew her, spoke highly of her."

"The blonde Elleth eyed the dead leaves and other detritus on the statue. "Such a good Queen surely deserves better than this. Shall we?"

Together, Guardians and Galadhrim alike, they quickly worked to remove all traces of overgrowth, moss and dirt, and did not stop until she was clean and white once more.

"Now she looks beloved once again." Daeron smiled. "Thank you."

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They rode during the day, made camp at night, and when they reached the Anduin River, they crossed with little difficulty and followed it river from the Western side until they finally reached the Annon Edhellen of Lothlórien. Once they were given leave to enter, Daeron's mouth dropped in amazement when got his first glimpse of the legendary Mallorn trees, he had heard about since he was a small child.

"Nan ear adh in elin…" He murmured. "San i bain!"

All was peaceful as their horses walked on the road to Caras Galadhon, where the Lord and Lady awaited them, though he knew they were being watched carefully. The Galadhrim were no different than the Guardians of the Woodland Realm in that they were a constant, unseen presence. That is as it should be, for anyplace so beautiful must be guarded jealously against enemies.

But it was more than the Wardens that guarded these woods. There was a benevolent power at work to keep the borders protected. The same instinct that made him aware of this, also told him never to speak of it, and never to ask.

So green! So beautiful! The Guardian closed his eyes and lifted his head and inhaled the scent of this forest, so he would never forget the sheer beauty of it. His fëa sang to the trees, offering them greetings, and he could feel them return the salutation.

When he lowered his face and opened his eyes again, he wasn't surprised to see that his other Guardians were doing the same, as well as their escort.

"No matter how many times I enter my homeland," Airen told him softly, "I cannot help but marvel at my home."

"I do not blame you." He told her, with genuine awe in his voice.

Soon they came to the outskirts of Caras Galadhon, and saw to their horses. After they were settled with food and water, the Guardians carried their bags and followed their escort through the floor of the Fortress of Trees.

A covered staircase wound up the largest of the trees and after Airen instructed them to leave their bags. It was only mid-afternoon, so the intricate lamps he saw hanging from the walkway were not lit, but he was looking forward to seeing them at night.

Up, and up they went, until at last they reached the house of the Lord and the Lady of the Golden Wood. The structure was a series of graceful sloping arches accented with graceful carvings along the top and sides. It was smaller than Daeron had imagined, but the same time bigger; he couldn't explain it. The house of the Lord and Lady consisted of several adjoining flets spread over immense branches, and its many lamps hanging from the ceilings promised to be a breathtaking sight at night.

They were met with two Guards, who opened the doors and brought them through to the receiving area, and with a quick command, Daeron ordered them lined up and at attention to await their hosts.

From above more doors opened and Lord Celeborn, resplendent in white, with his silver hair falling around his shoulders, gracefully stepped down the few steps with his beloved wife, Galadriel on his arm.

She was… indescribable. Clearly one of the most beautiful Elves he had ever seen, but she was so much more. This Elf had been born in the sacred land of Valinor and had been born in the Years of the Two Trees, before the Sun ever rose in the sky. This ethereal Elf, if the legends were true, the light in her hair came from the Two Trees, and this had given Fëanor the idea of capturing their light in his doomed Silmarils.

Without thinking, Daeron dropped to his knees and lowered his head in her presence, and all the Guardians followed. He was overcome with awe, to be in the presence of the most famous and powerful Elf on Middle Earth today.

"My Lord and Lady," he said, trying to make his voice strong and clear, "I am honored beyond measure to be chosen to stay here, even for a short time."

The Guard felt smooth fingers lift his chin and he was looking up the Lady. "Rise, Daeron Adamarion." She smiled.

When he stood, he looked deep into her grey eyes and saw an ocean of wisdom and power within them. He could feel her searching his fëa, for any sign of deception or malice, and he did his best to withstand this and continued to meet her knowing gaze. Daeron was startled to hear a voice inside his head:

Welcome, Guardian and Healer. Let not your heart be troubled, for you will find respite from your weariness and sorrow, here. I will send for you at the appointed time, and your doom will be revealed.

Daeron felt his cares and fears lift from him, and he no longer felt such despair. Though he knew the only joy he could find would be in Rhian's arms, the peace and contentment he'd been searching was here.

"My Lady," he gasped, then bowed his head in submission.

Galadriel did the same for each of the other Guardians, and seemed to find none wanting. She went back to stand with her husband, as Celeborn said, "We bid you welcome to Lothlórien."

Daeron stepped forward and made the introductions to the Lord and Lady, once done, they drew their swords and went down on one knee, they swore their loyalty and obedience, while in Lothlórien.

Now it was time for Lord Celeborn, to make introductions. "I would like to introduce Haldir Halfarion, Marchwarden of Lothlórien, as his father was before him."

A blonde Elf who had the look Rúmil, stepped forward and saluted. He had strong, wise features, but his brother's assessment was true in that he had a sober countenance, but not a grim one. This Elf took the safety of his people seriously and expected his men to do no less.

"Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Miui Daeron," the Marchwarden put his hand over his heart and bowed.

"Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Miui Haldir," Daeron returned the greeting.

"This is my brother, Orophin, also a Marchwarden and my second in command."

"Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Edwen Orophin," he replied politely. This brother more closely resembled Rúmil, and he was the tallest of the three brothers. "This is my second, Elion."

The greetings were exchanged between Tiriamín Edwen Elion, and the Marchwardens, and all the rest of the unit.

Once the introductions were made, the Lord and Lady sent them to what would be their various quarters for the year. As it turned out, Daeron would not be staying with Haldir, as Rúmil's rooms were adjacent to Orophin's, although Haldir's flet was only a few yards away. The structure that made up their house was much like the Lord and Lady's: a series of short steps or walkways leading up or down to various parts of their home. Their house was much plainer, of course in style and decoration, yet still beautiful.

When they entered the main door, Daeron looked around him in wonder. There was a common area with comfortable-looking chairs, couches and low tables, and on the wall were hung a series of weapons, obviously owned by their residents. There were also paintings of what he could assume to be scenes of their home. To the left he could see the kitchen which was open in style, and neatly kept, plus a table with six chairs.

"This is unlike anything I've ever seen," He told his host. "It is beautiful!"

"Thank you," Orophin grinned. "Haldir has asked me to do the honors, as he has matters he must see to, before tonight's feast. Let me show you your rooms."

Toward the back there were three covered walkways, looking down to the depths of the forest below.

"These are my rooms," Orophin indicated to the flet on the left, "the one straight ahead belongs to Haldir." This was a much larger structure, befitting his station and responsibilities, and through the open door, he could see that it held not only a bedroom, but a large study, as well.

"This is where you will be staying." Orophin took him to the right, and up four steps, and opened the door to a room that was smaller than his own in Woodland Realm or Dale, but the openness of the large windows plus their height gave the illusion of space and an airy comfort.

"I like it very much." Daeron smiled at the warm breeze that moved the sheer white curtains ahead. "I love the light colors."

This was true. His home in dale was full of rich, warm hues, like the rest of the City, and not unlike its people, but the walls here were done in the palest shades of green and white, which reflected the calm atmosphere.

"Rúmil painted the walls himself. Of the three, my brother is the best at home repairs and maintenance, and enjoys keeping things running smoothly." Orophin smiled.

"If you are hoping to find me thus inclined, I am sorry to disappoint you." Daeron laughed. "I never had much time to learn such things, I am afraid. My cousin Turamarth is continually squawking at my mess."

Orophin set one of his bags on the bed. "Do you need help unpacking? Rúmil's things are stored, so you need not worry about disturbing his personal items."

"I do not, but I would not mind company while I take care of it."

"I will be right back."

Daeron took advantage of his absence to find the privy, which was adjoining his washroom, to take care of matters. Then began to open his trunk, which had been brought while they were meeting the Lord and Lady.

Orophin quickly returned with some drinks. "We will have a quiet day here, then tomorrow, we will take you and your men on a tour of Caras Galadhon, after which there will be a Feast on the Forest Floor to welcome you."

"That is kind of you all." Daeron said, as he unpacked his personal things and took them into the washroom to set above the bathtub. "I normally do not feel tired after traveling…"

"Greeting the Lady of Light can be, shall we say, 'overwhelming.'" Orophin smiled. "It is normal to need quiet and rest after your first meeting."

"Will that always happen?"

"No. All visitors to our Realm, planned or no, are brought before the Lady, to determine their true intentions. She obviously found nothing wanting among your people and was pleased."

Daeron was curious. "What would happen if she found malice?"

"It depends." Orophin answered quietly. "Just as with your King, my Lord and Lady to not hesitate to do what they must, should the need arise." He sighed. "But let us speak of happier things. I was glad to hear of your King's marriage. You live in Dale, do you not?"

"I do."

"So, it was a good match?" the Warden asked. "Forgive my curiosity, but a second marriage amongst Elves is almost not heard of, not to mention between an Elf and Man."

"While I will not speak of personal matters between my King and his Consort, I will tell you they have both found joy, after suffering a terrible loss. The Prince and Princesses were fostered in our Palace during the winter, and we are all fond of them."

"Mithrandir has nothing but good things to say about the King of Dale."

Daeron nodded. "It is said Lord Bard is the best of Men, and I agree. His ancestors are among the Princes of Dol Amroth, though the Elven blood of that line has been greatly diminished. He is worthy of our King and will be a great King himself."

The Warden considered all this. "I think I would like to see Dale one day." He took a drink.

"I believe you would enjoy yourself." Daeron was finished unpacking, so they took their drinks to the balcony off the Common room to enjoy the fresh air and the view.

"So beautiful," Daeron sighed, as he looked through the treetops and smelled the scent of the Elanor blooming. "From here, one could forget the outside world and all its troubles."

And he meant it.

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Ben iest dhîn, Aran nîn – As you wish, My King.

Loeg Ningloran – Gladden Fields.

Nan ear adh in elin… - By the sea and stars…

San i bain! – It is beautiful!

Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Miui Daeron – Well met, Daeron Commander (of the Guardians)

Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Miui Haldir – Well, met, Haldir Marchwarden (of the Galadhrim)

Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Edwen Orophin – Well met, Orophin, Second Commander (of the Galadhrim)

Tiriamín Edwen Elion – Elion, Second Commander (of the Guardians)

[1] Though we know that each unit is made of male and female, I will use "Men" collectively, such as Dwarves means both Dwarves and Dwarrowdams; or Elves, means both Ellyn or Ellyth.

[2] Two years after King Isildur cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand with the shards of Narsil, his men were ambushed by Orcs and he was killed, along with almost all of his men. The Ring was lost in the Anduin, and stayed that way for nearly 2,500 years. It is suspected that this site was the reason Sauron set up his stronghold in the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc.

[3] Galadhrim Wardens:

Rúmil, Warden, (Captain)
Gerion, 2nd in command
Eriol, Lórien warrior
Lindo, Lórien Warrior
Cwën, Lórien Archer
Amaren, Lórien Archer

Woodland Realm Guardians:

Daeron (Commander)
Elion (2nd in Command)
Amrol, Warrior
Haden, Warrior
Eilinel, Archer
Ranuin, Archer