Winter Magic

Part 9

They left the market square, turning east at the crossroads, and followed the narrow lane through a huddle of grey stone cottages—past a blacksmith’s forge, and a cabinet-maker’s workshop, where they paused to look at the frosty spider’s web stretched across the window—then out onto the common, where cattle and horses, their breath steaming, were waiting patiently for the thaw.

A little further on, where the road crossed a bridge, they came upon a handful of boys sliding excitedly across a frozen stream.

Melannen turned to watch them.

Eowyn squeezed his hand. “We must press on,” she said.

“We can spare a few moments, melmenya,” said Legolas, “if he would like to try it.”

Eowyn looked up at the elf in alarm, and mouthed, No.

But the biggest of the boys had already seen them, and came running along the snowy bank. “Does the little ’un wan’ a go, sir?”

“Do you, Melannen?” asked Legolas. The elfling nodded. “Yes, please,” he replied to the boy. “Just one.”

“Come on then,” said the boy, taking the smaller child by the hand. “Melanner’s ’avin’ the nex’ go,” he shouted to his friends.

Legolas wrapped his arm around Eowyn and they watched as the elfling attempted to slide, fell—Legolas held Eowyn back—was briefly coached by the other children (who mimed various techniques), and then, on his second attempt, slid gracefully across the full width of the stream.

Melannen threw up his little hands in triumph.

Some of the others cheered, and some laughed, good-naturedly.

“Come on, Melanner,” said the big boy, “yer Dad said jus’ one go.”

“You were right, Lassui,” Eowyn admitted, softly, as the children tramped back to the bridge. “It is just—he is so small…”

“I know, melmenya,” said Legolas, gently, “but a child must always be permitted the chance to learn. Thank you,”—he handed the boy the bag of spiced almonds he had bought in the market—“to share with your friends.”

“Thank yer, sir.” The boy bowed, clumsily. Then, eyeing the elf shrewdly, he added, “Melanner says yer takin’ ’im t’ the Forest.”

“Yes.”

“Yer don’t want t’ go i’ there, sir.”

“Why not?”

The boy shrugged. “’s haunted,” he said. And he ran back to his friends.

*****

Part 10

It was midday by the time they reached the Forest. There, the road dwindled to a narrow trail, and patches of pale light, filtering down through the frosty branches, fell like jewels upon a covering of smooth, unblemished snow.

No human has set foot in here for years, thought Legolas, and he remembered the child’s warning. He stopped, and listened intently.

All around him, the trees were creaking under their snowy burden, squirrels were scampering across the Forest floor, deer were browsing on the sparse undergrowth, but he could sense no sign of Silvan elves—no songs nor laughter, nothing to suggest their presence.

Perhaps, he thought, they have chosen to fade.

Perhaps that is why the humans believe this Forest is haunted…

“Well,” said Eowyn, “who else is hungry?”

Melannen, who had been listening with Legolas, looked up at her, a frown of surprise on his little face.

Legolas laughed, hugging his beloved. “We elves to do not hunger like humans, melmenya,” he said, “but, since you are hungry, now would be a very good time to eat. Come, Melannen, help me…” Handing Eowyn the basket, he led the boy to a fallen tree, sheltered from the worst of the weather, and, together, they cleared the dusting of snow from its broad trunk.

Then Legolas turned back to Eowyn and, with a deep, sweeping bow—“My Lady?”—offered her a seat.

Melannen clapped his hands, bouncing up and down and giggling happily.

“Thank you,” said Eowyn and, after curtseying to both of her elves, she sat down, setting the basket beside her.

“How far is your parents’ house, Melannen?” asked Legolas.

Eowyn removed the basket’s cloth and spread it out on her makeshift table, then lifted out a loaf of bread and broke it into three, handing the smallest piece to the elfling and the largest to Legolas.

“Thank you,” said the elf.

“Do you not know, Melannen?” asked Eowyn, carefully unwrapping a piece of cheese.

The elfling shook his head.

Legolas crouched down beside him. “Who put the note in your basket?” he asked. The child said nothing. “Was it your Ada?” Melannen shook his head again. “Your Nana, then?”

“No…”

Legolas glanced at Eowyn.

She shrugged, helplessly. “Would you like some cheese, Melannen?”

…

They finished their meal—particularly enjoying the yule cake—and continued on their way, following the lonely trail deeper and deeper into the Forest. Every few minutes, Legolas would stop, and he and Melannen would listen, carefully, then turn to Eowyn, and shake their heads.

After an hour or so of fruitless searching, Legolas grasped Eowyn’s arm and the couple fell back a little, still carefully watching the elfling, who was stamping along, trying to leave deep footprints like his Gwanur Eowyn.

“If we do not find his parents soon, melmenya,” said Legolas, softly, “we will have to turn back. Melannen and I could spend the night out here with no discomfort, but you… No, I want to get you back to The Two Ways before dark.”

“Lassui!” Eowyn shook her head. “Do not treat me like a—”

Her protest was cut off by a sudden wail—a cry of desperate anguish—that echoed around them—and whether it had been made by a man, or an elf, or a beast, or even by a tree, none of them could have said.

But its effect upon Melannen was terrible. “Nana!” he cried. “Nana! NANA!”

And he ran off into the woods.

*****

Part 11

“Melannen!” cried Eowyn. “Melannen, come back! Oh, Lassui,”—she turned to the elf—“Lassui! Fetch him back! Please. Go after him!”

“No, melmenya,” said Legolas, taking her by the hand, “we will both go after him.”

They left the track, following the elfling through the trees, until the faint trail disappeared completely, and it became harder and harder to be sure which way he had gone.

“Oh, where is he, Lassui?” asked Eowyn, anxiously. “MELANNEN!”

Snow fell down from the branches above.

Legolas pulled her into his arms. “Hush, Eowyn nín.” He closed his eyes, listening intently. Then, “This way.”

On they hurried, across deep-drifted snow, Legolas walking easily, Eowyn labouring, her feet sinking deep.

“Go on, Lassui,” she panted. “I am holding you back.”

But Legolas put his hand to her waist and, supporting her, led her on. “It is not far now, melmenya—I can hear him, just up ahead. Yes, look!”

…

They found the elfling, standing in a tiny clearing, staring up into the trees.

Eowyn struggled to his side. “Melannen,” she cried, grasping his shoulders, “you must never, ever, run away like that!” The child threw himself against her, sobbing. “Sweetheart? What is wrong?”

Legolas, catching her eye, nodded upwards.

Eowyn scanned the trees until, perching in the largest, she spotted the remains of an elven house, its broken walls and exposed beams barely visible amongst the branches—and then she realised that the snow-covered bushes all around her were the remnants of a garden.

“We must go up there, Lassui,” she said, softly, “just to make sure…”

…

The stairs were still in place, spiralling up the tree trunk. Legolas went first, carefully searching each room until he was certain that the elfling’s parents were not lying in the ruins, then he beckoned to Eowyn, who brought up Melannen, clinging tightly to her hand.

“Are you sure that this is your house, nadithen?” asked the elf, crouching down beside the boy.

Melannen nodded.

Still uncertain, Legolas looked up at Eowyn.

“Show me your room,” she said, gently squeezing the child’s shoulder.

Melannen led her through the broken doorway—splintered, it seemed, by several blows from an axe—across the roofless sitting room—its floor and walls blackened by fire—up a short flight of steps, and into a tiny bedchamber, where the carved window frames were still draped with fragments of frozen curtain.

“This must have been a lovely room,” murmured Eowyn; and, stooping down beside a little couch, she picked up a battered picture book, opened it, and spelled out the name written inside its cover. “Mel—ann—en.”

The boy sniffed. “I can help you practise your reading if you like, Gwanur Eowyn,” he said.

Eowyn hugged him tight.

“Come melmenya—Melannen,” said Legolas, gently. “We will go back to the town.”

*****

Part 12

It was a long, weary tramp back to the town.

As soon as they left the Forest, Eowyn asked Legolas to carry Melannen and, within moments, the child had fallen into fitful reverie, his little head resting upon the elf’s shoulder.

“What do you think happened in that house, Lassui?” asked Eowyn, softly.

“An Orc attack,” replied Legolas.

Melannen sighed, and shifted into a more comfortable position.

Eowyn waited until the elfling had settled again before continuing. “That makes sense—if his parents knew that it was coming, they would have tried to send him to safety. But there have been no Orcs reported in this region, Lassui. Not recently.”

“The damage was old, melmenya.”

“That is what I thought, too. But Melannen cannot have been wandering the countryside for—how long? Months?”

“Years,” said Legolas. “The beams were well-weathered.”

“How can that be?”

Legolas shook his head.

“Well, there was nothing to suggest that the parents did not survive,” said Eowyn, thinking aloud, “so I think… I think that we must take Melannen home with us, now, and send someone back to investigate more thoroughly—Orodreth, perhaps, and Camthalion. Yes, if Melannen’s parents are still alive they will be looking for him, and Orodreth and Camthalion will find them.”

…

By the time they reached the town darkness had fallen and the market square was filled with excited merry makers. Some of the stall holders had lit braziers, and were selling mulled wine and yuletide pies, or were roasting chestnuts.

Legolas and Eowyn, making straight for the tavern, worked their way through the milling crowd.

Suddenly, there was a wooooosh, and a sharp crack, and a burst of coloured stars filled the sky before twinkling down to earth.

Melannen raised his head. “Fireworks,” he said.

“Would you like to watch them?” asked Eowyn.

The child nodded, but his eyes were bright with tears.

“Oh, do not be afraid, Melannen,” said Eowyn, gently rubbing his back, “your Gwanur Legolas and I—we are going to take care of you.”

*****

Part 13

They watched the fireworks, and the dressing of the Yule Tree, and they ate hot pies, and Melannen tried a few sips of mulled wine, and Legolas and Eowyn did their utmost to reassure the elfling, and to make him feel safe; but later, back in the tavern’s warm parlour, the child sat quietly on Eowyn’s knee, his little lip trembling.

“Do not get him a separate room tonight, Lassui,” said Eowyn, hugging the boy. “Let him stay with us…”

Legolas leaned down, and kissed her forehead.

…

The landlord’s wife put them in the same room as before but, this time, she had a small bed brought in, and made it up for Melannen and, whilst Legolas stoked the fire, Eowyn helped the elfling undress, and wash, and get into bed, and tucked him in with his toy rabbit.

“Can we have a story, melmenya?” asked Legolas, laying down the poker.

“A story?” Eowyn frowned. “What sort of story?”

“Oh, I do not know… What sort of story would you like to hear, Melannen?”

“One about Gwanur Eowyn,” said Melannen, with a sniff, “when she was an elfling.”

“Good idea,” said Legolas. “Tell us about when you were an elfling, melmenya.”

“Well…” Eowyn pulled a chair up to Melannen’s bed and sat down. “There was the time that Eomer and I climbed onto the roof of the Golden Hall.” She smiled down at the boy. “Eomer is my brother—my big brother—and, when we were young, he and I were always getting into trouble together.”

Melannen managed a little smile.

“We lived,” Eowyn continued, “in a great Mead Hall, known as the Golden Hall—”

“Because its roof gleams in the sun, like gold, Melannen,” said Legolas, sitting on the end of the child’s bed, “and all its wall hangings are woven with golden threads, and all the carvings on its doors and its pillars are gilded. Your Gwanur Eowyn comes from a strange country called Rohan, the land of the horse lords.”

“Who is telling this story?”

“You are melmenya—I am sorry. Why did you climb up onto the roof?”

“To see the oliphaunts,” said Eowyn, as though the answer were obvious. “Theodred—that was my cousin—Theodred had told me that a herd of oliphaunts had come to live on the downs. I was sure that if we climbed up onto the roof we would see them.”

Melannen sniffed. “And did you?”

“No,” said Eowyn, stroking the boy’s hair.

“Why not?”

“Because Theodred was just teasing. There were no oliphaunts. And Eomer knew it, but he climbed up with me anyway. And then I got my skirts caught; and, however hard I tried, I could not get them loose, and Eomer wanted to cut me free with his hunting knife—but I would not let him ruin my gown.”

“How did you get down?” asked Legolas.

“I…” She hesitated.

“You are blushing, Eowyn nín!”

“I took my gown off. It was Eomer’s idea. I had to climb down, and run back to my bedchamber, wearing nothing but my shift and boots.”

She looked down at the elfling—and smiled, for his eyes were already closed in healing sleep.

…

Later

Lying awake, staring up at the firelight dancing on the ceiling, Legolas heard the creak of bedsprings, and the patter of little feet, and he lifted the covers and let a small person climb up over him, and snuggle down between himself and Eowyn.

*****

Part 14

Next morning they rose early; and, whilst they breakfasted on porridge, toast and strawberry jam, the landlord of The Two Ways secured them a ride on the cart that delivered milk to the houses on the western slopes of the valley.

“Now, Melannen,” said Legolas, lifting the elfling onto the back of the cart, “this is going to be an adventure.”

Eowyn climbed up beside the boy. “Yes,” she said, arranging his heavy cloak around his shoulders, “it will be lots of fun.” She gave him a little hug and, when he clung to her, she looked up at Legolas, and the elf sat down with them, and pulled them both into his arms.

The carter shook his head, smiling at his passengers’ antics.

Then, with a click of his tongue and a smart jerk of the reins, he signalled to his ponies, and they pulled away.

…

Slowly, the little cart meandered up the hillside, stopping at each dwelling so that the lady of the house could come out with a cloth-covered jug and hand it to the carter to be filled with creamy fresh milk from one of the churns.

And, without exception—after passing the time of day with Legolas and Eowyn—the women would ask the carter to wait, and would run indoors, and return with a gift for Melannen—with sweetmeats, or cake, or with a pair of woollen mittens—and the boy would thank them, shyly.

And, for the rest of their days, the women of the valley would delight in telling their families and friends of the unexpected visit they had received from the beautiful elven couple and their adorable little son.

…

The carter left them near the foot of the cliff and, after waving him off, the trio quickly retraced their earlier path up to the rock wall, and found the passage.

In moments, they had crossed to the other side.

“Niben!” cried Melannen, suddenly. “I have lost Niben!” He hung his little head.

“Oh, sweetheart,” said Eowyn, crouching down beside him, “do not worry. Your Gwanur Legolas will find him.”

“Did you have him when you got off the cart?” asked the elf.

“Yes.”

“He must have dropped him in the rocks, Lassui.”

“Wait here,” said Legolas. “I will go and look for him.”

…

The elf ran quickly through the narrow pass and, to his immense relief, immediately found the stuffed rabbit, lying spreadeagled on the ground, just a few yards from the foot of the cliff.

As he stooped to pick up the toy, his gaze swept across the valley…

He frowned.

The narrow road still ran the length of the valley bottom; the Forest still spilled down the slope at the far side; small holdings still peppered the landscape; but the town, in which he and Eowyn and Melannen had spent the last two nights, was now nowhere to be seen.

*****

Part 15

Legolas ran back to the others.

Eowyn was waiting for him at the mouth of the pass. “Lassui! Oh, Lassui,” she cried, wringing her hands—and little Melannen, standing behind her, holding on to the skirts of her jerkin, looked just as worried.

“Sweet Eru, what is it?” asked Legolas

“Our wedding!” She grabbed his outstretched arms. “We have forgotten our own wedding!”

…

Legolas swung Melannen up onto his shoulders and they hurried back—across the stone bridge, along the frozen stream, through the Pine Forest—to where they had first found the elfling.

“There is still time, melmenya,” said Legolas, trying to sound reassuring. “It has only been two nights, which makes today the twentieth. Aragorn and Eomer are not arriving until late this afternoon, and the ceremony is not until tomorrow evening…” He whistled for the horses.

“But how could we have forgotten?”

Arod and Brightstar emerged from the trees, looking none the worse for their two days of freedom.

“That is not the only strange thing, melmenya.” As Legolas lifted Melannen onto Arod’s back, he told Eowyn about the town.

“But how could it disappear?”

“I have no i—”

“Oh gods!” Eowyn’s hands flew up to her mouth. “My gown!”

Legolas laughed. “That is the least of your worries, melmenya,” he said, giving her a little hug. “If there is one person in Middle-earth you can rely on, it is Valaina. She will have everything in hand.” He helped her mount Brightstar.

“Yes… Yes, of course, you are right.” She gathered up the reins. Then, “Your father!”

“Now he will take some soothing,” Legolas admitted. “But leave him to me, melmenya.”

…

They galloped down the Doro Lanthron road, reaching the city by mid afternoon and, leaving the horses in the care of the stable-elves, they quickly climbed the main staircase.

Melannen’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Do you really live here, Gwanur Legolas?” he asked, as the elf set him down on the walkway. He ran to the wall and, standing on tip-toe, peered out across the city, pointing excitedly at the guard house, the market flet, and the new public gardens. “Elves!” he cried. “Gwanur Eowyn! Look! Lots and lots of elves!”

*****

Part 16

Lord Fingolfin was waiting in their private chambers.

“Suilad, hîr nín,” he said, rising and greeting Legolas and Eowyn formally, hand on heart, “e suilad, hiril nín.” Then, noticing Melannen, hiding behind Eowyn, he bent down to the child’s level, and added, “E suilad, hîr dithen.”

At Eowyn’s gentle urging, Melannen stepped forward and, head bowed and blushing, returned Fingolfin’s greeting.

Legolas ruffled the boy’s golden hair. “Well done, nadithen.” He smiled at Fingolfin. “Good afternoon, my Lord. Please accept my profound apologies for missing our meeting the other day.”

“Our meeting, Lord Legolas?”

“To discuss your kind offer to stand as my Guardian at the wedding. I am afraid I was detained. But I hope that you are still willing.”

“I think you will find,” said Fingolfin, tactfully, “that that particular meeting is arranged for today, my Lord. For now, in fact.”

Frowning, Legolas turned to Eowyn.

“What day is it, my Lord?” she asked.

“The eighteenth day of Girithron, my Lady,” replied Fingolfin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…”

“But we were gone for two days.”

“I… I do not understand, my Lady.”

“No matter, my Lord,” said Legolas, taking control. “You and I have much to discuss, and we will be far more comfortable in the study. Galathil,”—he called to a servant—“we will have mulled cider and caraway cake in the study, and I am sure that Lady Eowyn and Master Melannen will have the same in the sitting room—no, make that apple juice for the boy. We will talk later, melmenya,” he added, quietly.

…

Eowyn led Melannen into the sitting room. “Well,” she said, setting his basket on the sideboard and handing him his toy rabbit, “first, we will need to find you some clean clothes—”

Clutching Niben to his chest, the elfling turned full-circle, admiring the garlands of evergreens that draped the elegant beams, the spangled curtains at the windows, and the hundreds of tiny white candles that glittered on the mantelpiece and in the hearth.

“—then,” Eowyn continued, “we will have to bathe you, and find you a chamber of your own,”—there was a knock at the door—“come in!”

Miriel, Eowyn’s elven lady’s maid, stepped inside, holding the door open for the seamstress, Valaina, who entered carrying a large bundle, carefully wrapped in white cloth. “Good afternoon, my Lady,” said the elleth with a deep curtsey. “Are you ready for your fitting?”

“Oh,” said Eowyn, “yes—I had almost forgotten!—yes, of course.”

…

“You can look now, Melannen.”

The elfling (who had turned his back and covered his eyes, for good measure) turned, and slowly lowered his hands.

His Gwanur Eowyn raised her arms. “What do you think?”

Instead of the suede jerkin and the leather boots that she had worn on their adventure, she was dressed in an elegant gown of rough-woven silk the colour of pale, sparkling wine. Its scooped neck and deep hem were embroidered with bands of creamy buttercups and with tiny red pimpernels, scattered over a lacework of blue briars, and its wide, translucent sleeves were edged with delicate pale blue leaves.

“Oh, Gwanur Eowyn,” said Melannen, “you look like a princess!”

To be continued…

…

Thank you, Rozzan, for your review :-)

And thank you, balrog, for reading this entire series and taking the trouble to let me know what you thought of the stories! I so love getting feedback!