Learning is fun for everyone!
Gilriant slipped into Mandos’ Halls, a smile on his face. This place felt like another home to him after all these years. The power and purpose within it, one that harmonized with his fea. This was the sanctuary for the dead, and he was one of its keepers. Yes, his greater role was in Middle Earth. It did not stop him from having a place and filling a need here as well.
He could feel the very song of the place through the soles of his feet. This was not the first time he had felt it. It grew in strength as he grew in strength. It pulsed and echoed, sang to their very being. Death and life, two sides of the same coin. Here the dead healed so they could move on to life anew. Here the joy of their task filled Faircoivar.
Their original purpose for tonight pushed to the side as they reached to pull a violin into existence. Here, in this state, their Will could make those temporary objects. For them, to create an instrument of music, barely needed the whisper of a thought and it was in their hands. With a small smile in place they set the violin under their chin and the bow on the strings. The song bloomed to life and they let the music guide their feet into the hall. As they moved their features shifted slightly, a red sheen to their dark hair. A balance of features marking a figure that was neither male nor female, and also somehow both.
The song flowed from them and resonated in the halls. It harmonized with the strength and beauty of the place. Yes there was a darkness that lurked, the same darkness that spoke of pain and trauma, of pieces that needed to be healed. Darkness did not mean evil, it simply was. Sometimes it made those lights of joy and love shine all the brighter. For Faircoivar neither light nor dark reigned.
Instead it was the silver of the balance that shimmered and spread. It gently rippled outwards, curling around the fea of those that dwelled there, bringing hope and healing. It spoke of the purpose and safety of the halls for those that needed it. It also spoke of the freedom and life that awaited them outside when they were ready for it. This place was just a waystation. Always, oh ever always they could stay if they wanted. Yet there was hope for a life beyond, waiting for that moment they were ready to claim it.
They could feel the fea of elves around them, but also the bright shining presence of more than one of the Aratar. Faircoivar neither hurried their steps, nor their song. They did not move away from the elves or towards the bright ones. They simply stood in the space and let their song resonate and spread. Harmonizing with the song that ran through all things. A piece of the greater harmony of the world. Almost reluctantly they brought the song to an end. Releasing their instrument back into the aether of the world.
Pacing towards the ones that awaited them, Faircoivar paused when they realized just who had joined Namo. “My Lord Manwe, I apologize if I interrupted anything.” They inclined their head to the Elder King. “Not at all Keeper of Balances. I am here for you.” Raising their head with a look of surprise, Faircoivar tried to decide if they had somehow missed something, or transgressed somehow. “Oh? I was not aware of any summons.” “Apparently I need to share the baby.” Namo’s echoing voice held a tone of dryness to it.
“You need to do what now?” Gilriant did his best not to scowl as his features resettled. “Elenrieano, while it is true you are primarily of my domain, that is not all you encompass as the Keeper of Balances.” Namo explained calmly. “You are starting to hear all the songs of Ea. That and the others want an opportunity to spend time with you and aid in your education.” When the protest started to form on his lips the Vala held up a hand. “They understand and will not interfere with the duties you have claimed for yourself here. This will just be the occasional addition to what you already do. Though while you are in the waking world there are those we have sent to Middle Earth that have served us and can help.”
“The istari you mean?” Gilriant clarified with a slight frown. “Yes, as I understand it there are three that travel the areas in Middle Earth where you live.” “I will not be able to be taught by Curunir. Not with his attitude and beliefs.” The two Vala paused at the firmness in the young elf’s tone. There had been a few brief interactions between the young elf and the white wizard since the first disastrous meetings. Enough to tell him that there would be no benefit to be had from being taught by the one the men call Saruman. “He discounts all knowledge and wisdom outside his own. He barely listens to the elves and gets most affronted if their decisions run counter to his. There is no give to him, and I fear what this may lead to.”
“Elenrieano speaks the truth, I fear.” The Weaver glided to the side of her husband, a troubled expression on her face. “While my tapestries depict what is or has been, his gift goes beyond that, to what may be. Not an easy burden to bear.” Gilriant inclined his head to the valier. “What may yet come is the truth of it my Lady. The future is an ever changing flowing thing. Each choice made can shift the current, strong enough and it changes the path. What I see is a possibility only, and what I saw for Curunir, is split. He could fall into corruption, or he could stand strong. The choice is his and his alone.”
“Before now you were a child, so I presume others know of this?” Manwe’s voice had a rumbling echo to it. Not unlike thunder that threatened a storm. “The leaders of the elf havens and Mirthrandir. I gave what warnings I could, and left the rest in the hands of my brother.” They all considered his words in the silence that fell after them. “You were a child and we did ask you to be a child.” Namo conceded. ”We did not ask for your opinions on any of them, we would be remiss not to ask now. What of the other two?”
“Of Radagast I know little. I would prefer to meet him before I form an opinion than rely on second hand information. I will say from what is reported he is very much focused on caring for animals and nature.” Vaire’s voice was amused. “He is of Yavanna’s.” Gilriant could feel the current of conversation that was taking place beyond his ability to hear it. Choosing not to resent that fact, instead he waited. Manwe finally nodded, “And the third?”
“Mithrandir I am familiar with and have spent time with growing up. He is much more in tune with balance, often knowing where he needed to be and with whom, if not why. I could work with and learn from the grey wizard.” The young elf’s lips twitched in a smile. That would likely not thrill Thranduil, but that could be dealt with. “He holds true to his perceived duty, traveling the lands, learning, and guiding where he can. The only warning I issued to him had to do nothing with what I saw, and everything to the poor choices of one that he at least superficially reminded me of.” The faint rumble was still in Manwe’s voice. “What warning?” From what he understood, the Elder King had reason to be especially concerned with Mithrandir.
“I spoke of a saying in the world of my birth. The road to destruction is made with good intentions. I asked him to remember that sometimes the needs of the many are not right to outweigh the needs of the few. The greater good is not always good, and those that are considered to be wise are not always right.” Another heavy silence filled the room after his words. “Knowing your past, I understand why such things would be important to you.” Namo finally responded calmly.
“There is something I would ask. You are correct to point out that I am still learning. There are many things I do not know how to judge.” At their interested looks Gilriant continued, “For example where does my authority extend? When should I intervene and when should I walk away?” Namo gave a slight frown at the question. “You are the Keeper of Balances, your responsibility is to that.” Great, he wasn’t quite asking the question the correct way. He knew the Valar did not think like elves nor had they ever been mortal. Creations of thought with specific spheres.
“Yes, but within that it is tricky to determine when I should push and when I should not. Free will is one of the most important things I can think of. Yet when does the choices of one outweigh others or others of the one?” The Doomsman looked at Manwe, and then back to ‘his’ elven maia. “Allowing choice is well and good, but your responsibility is to all of Ea, not just individuals.” Gilriant gave a small shake of his head. “I have had very poor examples of those that think that their way is the only right way, I do not wish to become like them.”
“Perhaps,” a new voice entered the conversation, “The tapestries of the past may help in showing what has been. So old mistakes are not made again?” Nienna drifted in and he offered the Lady of Mercy a smile and half bow. “You have a good point. Experience is what I lack, so learning from the past may help.” The two vala watched the valier guide the young elf into the halls.
“It is as I said,” Namo quietly commented. “Eru helped bring him to us as he possibly has as much to teach us as we do for him. Elenrieano was not born or created for his role. He was chosen for it by something far older than we.” “Perhaps,” Manwe allowed. “Yet that is far too much weight on someone so young.” “Do you think I do not know that?” The Doomsman’s voice was just a hair away from being called sharp. “We need not ask him for instruction, only listen to what he has to say. He needs to grow and learn and make his own choices. He will likely make mistakes, but I cannot say that we have not done the same with the children. Let us not repeat that by failing to listen and learn.”
*
“Oh come on Haldir, this is a great idea and you really are the best person to practice this with.” Tauriel pleaded as the marchwarden looked at the bow she gave him with an unimpressed expression. “I fail to see how this is a great idea. If you tried it in battle it is a good way to get an arrow in your hand, at a minimum.” “But that’s what practice is for!” The red-head countered. “We have understrength bows, the arrows have no arrowheads just a bit of padding, and we both can predict how the other moves enough so we won’t hurt each other.” At his ungiving expression she pressed, “I know it can be done, how else do you think I knew to get these kinds of supplies for practice!”
As he studied her face slowly Haldir started to unbend. “Fine, we can give it a try. If nothing else it should be good practice for agility and your reflexes.” He settled the quiver on his back before pacing a distance out before turning to face her. “I’m not shooting directly at you.” Tauriel rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to, not to start. Just shoot next to me. I don’t expect to be able to snatch the first one. When I am catching every one, then you can aim for me.” The marchwarden shot her a look. She just grinned, almost bouncing in place.
Shaking his head he notched an arrow and carefully aimed before he released it. As Tauriel predicted, she did not get the first one. Nor the second, or even the fifth. In fact the entire quiver was spent before she came even close. “I’m not giving up!” The elleth gathered up the arrows her spirits undimmed by the lack of success. “Perhaps not, but you will still owe me some training in something of my choice for doing this.” Reloading the quiver she gave it back to him. “I know, I agreed to that from the start.” This time she was the one to move back. “For as many days as it takes.”
Days it would most definitely take. Tauriel hadn’t managed to so much as touch one by the end of the first session. Still as agreed she moved on to the tracking practice Haldir wanted to take her on. The snow bothered her far more as the elleth than the ellon, but she did not complain. Tracking came far quicker to her than catching an arrow, but still she persisted. The first of the crocus had shown their faces to the thin sunlight when she finally grabbed one out of the air.
It gave them both pause when she held up the arrow, successfully snatched out of the air. While she had been starting to knock them down, this was the first time her hand closed around one while in flight. With a laugh of delight she held it up. “I told you I could do it.” With a slight smile Haldir inclined his head in acknowledgment. “So you did. One arrow does not mastery of this skill make, nor did you shoot it back at me.” “But it does prove it can be done. All I need now is more practice.”
“Practice doing what?” The pair turned to see Legolas approaching, clearly having caught only the last part of their conversation. “Oh hello my lord, Haldir was helping me learn a new skill.” “I still don’t see the practicality of it.” The marchwarden interjected. “I’ve let you take me on whatever training you wanted no matter the weather so I don’t see why that matters.” Tauriel pointed out with an easy smile. “That still doesn’t explain this new skill you are learning.” The prince pointed out patiently.
“I’ve been learning how to snatch arrows out of the air, and then it would be a simple matter to collect or shoot them back.” The elleth explained with an easy smile. “And accepting training is the price you are paying for the help?” “Without complaint, and I haven’t once have I?” Tauriel looked at Haldir with an arched eyebrow. “That is a point for debate considering that you have commented on the cold.” “Stating a fact does not make it complaining.” Watching the pair of them, Legolas’s expression turned thoughtful.
“So I owe you some assistance then.” Tauriel cocked her head to the side. “Whatever do you mean?” Legolas smiled, “You have allowed me to train you without complaint.” Her eyebrows went up. “That was something I wanted.” Haldir was amused. “Are you saying you didn’t want me to train you?” Shooting a look back at him she explained, “It wasn’t my preferred type of training.” The marchwarden simply offered up the understrength bow and quiver to the prince. “As you have proven to me you won’t hurt yourself doing this, I see no problem with allowing another to aid you.” With a little shrug she placed the arrow in the empty quiver on her back.
“This isn’t going to be finished in one day.” Tauriel informed him mildly. “Then when I have caught up, I have the right to take you to a training of my choosing.” She shook her head slightly at his response, even as she smiled. “So be it. Well then, you best start shooting.”
Later on Thranduil intercepted Legolas after the practice was finished. “Who were you working with?” Looking back at the red hair of the elleth vanishing as she moved off he replied, “Tauriel, Maethel’s cousin. Apparently she came here to train with her.” The king followed his gaze and then looked back to his son. “Is that so? Interesting.”
*
Haldir sat out in one of the gardens with Legolas. “If you truly want to learn how to connect to nature this way, this is a good time of year to start. The trees and other dormant plants are starting to wake. That makes it easier to hear individual voices.” Legolas inclined his head, “I understand. You said to practice meditating for this, correct?” While the prince knew the skill, this was a different application of it. “Correct.”
“You don’t need me to anchor you, just to act as a guide until you can identify the voices for yourself. Once you have it will just be a matter of practice at your own pace.” Legolas listened to the marchwarden. “I appreciate you helping me get started.” A thoughtful expression covered Haldir’s face. “This skill is not unlike how you can focus on your bond with kin. The more you invest in it, the stronger it can become, and the more you can learn through it.”
While the reminder was unneeded, the instruction was still appreciated. Legolas had already found a few interesting things during his meditation practice. Ones that he still needed time to think about. From the speculative look on Haldir’s face, it was entirely possible the marchwarden already knew that. “If you ever need to speak about it, I am more than willing to listen.” The prince nodded and then just settled into position to meditate. For now he would focus on this.
*
Thranduil watched as the group gathered in the courtyard. Prince Gilriant was at the center of it, the twist and turns of the group encircling him. It was not so unusual to see others drawn into the young elf’s orbit, his son included. This time it was purposefully done. Those that were there to just observe were well back. The rest settled into the positions needed as Haldir directed them. For the King’s part, he was in the middle, his son next to him.
He may not bear a ring of power, or have the great connection to the forest the young prince did, he could still feel the stirrings of power. Thranduil could feel his connection to the forest and the placeholder wards that blanketed it in a layer of protection. No small thing as his realm encompassed even more than Imladris or Lothlorien. Even without including the lower half of the wood past the mountains.The young one not only could, but was building a permanent ward for the Greenwood. The connection and control he would be granted to it gave him a level of protection to his people close to equal to what the rings granted.
That soothed some of the resentment Thranduil felt towards the other elf havens. They either did, or at one point did, have one of the rings of power. They could protect their realms and people far more easily than he. Nor did they seem to understand his desire to protect his people is what caused a great deal of the ill feelings to start with.
Yet from the very beginning this young elf strove to protect the Greenwood. Granted he would have preferred to be asked prior to the wolves of starlight being sent. Still the one that had asked him to do so if, if it was who he thought, had every right to make such a request. He could but hope that meant good tidings for the future. So he would trust in the young prince. Even as he offered protection, guidance and training.
It was not quite dawn when he started. Prince Gilriant set bow to strings and started to play. The music resonated with power, echoed back in the song of the trees, in the song of the phoenixes that flew. As the sun rose, that action too seemed to carry the thread of melody that was being wound around. It was the first breath of life that blew through the trees. The wind that carried the warmth that melted away the cold. A glowing promise of warmth still to come. Hope and new beginnings that bloomed and brought color to the world. What he had done in the fall may have sounded the same, but it was even more now.
He was not the only one among his people to feel deeply connected to the song. When it ended and the group rode off, Thranduil could see individuals stir as if waking from a dream. Not if they had been entranced, but there was a reluctance to leave the peace that had been invoked. The fragility of new life, and the ever enduring strength of hope. When they had vanished from sight, he slowly paced back into his Halls.
This day he would go to the rooms he seldom visited to hold vigil. In the heart of the halls, there was a room he had built for his wife. Designed to let light filtered through colored glass that had been cut and fitted into shapes. The bright color of mithril inlaid branches aiding in the brightness. Each season was depicted in the images as they slowly shifted. Narinzel loved the forest and this was one way to bring it inside. To reflect both how it changed and endured. This was his destination. A place of memory and power. A reminder of the strength of love, loss, and those that remained behind. That healing may be given, bonds renewed, and hope rekindled. The power of the spirit that endures.
Once there he sat in the middle the colored light that cast a rainbow of which he sat in the heart of. He let his mind sink into the connection to the power and to the Greenwood. Through his bond with his son and the forest, he could feel the group and track their movements. Thranduil could feel the twists and turns, the strengthening of the protection woven through and for the woods. Here, time was meaningless.
In a heartbeat they had reached the southern point. Where rock and water and trees all met. The sun, hanging high in the sky. Warmth bloomed as the young prince began to play and move. Thranduil could feel the promise of hard work and the growth of life. Shedding the early years and moving towards maturity. Each breath, each beat of his heart thrummed with it. The power entwining with his son and his own and braiding them further into protection that grew with the heat of the sun. The fire that strengthened and burned with the passion of life. He could feel that Legolas was more awake to the power than he had been previously. A deeper awareness of what flowed between them and the forest. While he did not know what had caused this, it was a good thing. Another breath and they were again moving. Carrying the warmth with them. It threaded the promise and the growth deeper into the protection. The ward grew stronger.
Heading to the west, cooling but no less strong. Inhale, exhale, the heart beats and the turn of the seasons echoed. The warmth was starting to fade, yet the power was only building. The strength of work turning into the bounty of the harvest. The taste of apple and bread flavoring the air. Nourishing earth, strong and steady, the foundation for surviving. The sun setting, ending its journey for the day. The ripening of life, of knowledge gained and shared. The honor of those who guide and protect. The swirling overlay of the colors of autumn. The time to prepare for the sleep to come. Twilight settling, the light fading bringing forth the stars in the sky.
While the Keeper may have stopped playing their violin, he could feel the melody continue as they raced towards the North. Ever cooling, ever darkening, colors fading into the night. Within the darkness, the stars shone bright. Spilling their strength into the wards. The moon rose higher overhead, painting the landscape in its cool light. Breath in, breath out, listen to the beat of the heart. The song gently rising, rising like the moon which bathed the land in its cool light. The age of the land and all that came before resonating within. Spreading through the ward. Treasuring the wisdom of those that had experienced much life. Letting the stories of the land enrich the power built. Yes there was the peace of those that slept. Waiting, ever waiting for the new cycle to begin. Frozen water just waiting to melt to allow the rebirth.
Thranduil could feel them moving and picking up speed. The elements they carried with them entwined around the group and especially around the bright source of power. The heart of the melody that built and braided it all together. Pouring their strength into the protection weaving through the forest. The King could feel them coming ever closer. Until they wrapped the power back around the Halls. Completing the circle without pause in order to draw everything together and moving into the heart. He could feel it, beating with his own. Strength building with each pulse. He could feel the steadfastness of the anchor binding the power into the earth. He could feel the balance of fire and water elements empowering, the spirits of rebirth. There, present and soaring, the breath of wind that helped bring about the beginning.
Hope, warmth, love, life, bright belief in all that could be good in the world. Blooming and spreading in the heart of the wood. In the heart of the King. No corruption could take root inside such purity. None could face its strength and hold fast. There could be death, for what was death but the doorway to new life? In making allowances for one, you gained the other. There was peace in such a place and thought. They may have stopped playing music, but the song sang ever on. Thranduil could hear and feel the song that had been woven around his lands. Cycling, circling, never ending, only transitioning. Circling power feeding into each part. From one stage to another ever changing yet ever steady. Breathe in, breath out, time is meaningless, feeling the strength of the beating heart.
A whisper of sound, a whisper of concern and he held out his hands to guide his son down. To sit facing him here in the heart of the halls. To share his own heart with his son as he sat in front of Thranduil. Knee to knee, hand in hands, leaning forward and foreheads touching. Parent and child, King and Prince, caretakers and protectors of the land. The love that flowed and bound it all together. He felt the missing echo, the piece that Narinzel would have held. Yet a piece of her was here, in her child. The embodiment of the love that they shared. It was a part of the protection now and would ever endure.
Could he have done this without the healing the Keeper had provided? The likelihood was very low. His heart had been too wounded, his walls too high to keep the pain at bay. The love for his son was ever present, even when he was buried in pain. That was never in doubt. Thranduil’s ability to be open is what would have been prevented. He owed much, and he would do everything in his power to protect, to guide and to aid.