The Empty Vessel

The Empty Vessel - Epilogue.

Get out the Kleenex and the Chocolates!

A/N:

Before I go any further, there are some people I really need to thank.

1. Alex. - I know, I know... poor Hal. Hehe! Three cheers and kudos, Madam. You will never know how desperate I was when you stepped into this monster mid- stream. Or maybe, you do. I joke about you being my ‘pity-beta', but I appreciate your sense of humor and your willingness to be a sounding board and graciously using your red pen to mark through my extra commas and verbal faux pas. EV would never had gotten this far without you. You have become a dear friend. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm just your brainless minion...

2. Dorothy, Louise, and Hayley: It is always nice when someone emails you personally and says - I like this. But these ladies have done more than that. They have become a wall when I needed someone to lean on, they have stepped up and been a sounding board when my bunnies bounded uncontrollably. They have pointed me in directions I never thought possible and if I ever become a published author, it's Louise's fault. (And with that, Louise, I hope I redeemed myself from that opening Prologue.)

3. To the small select group I have used ruthlessly and shamelessly in bouncing ideas and test driving scenes. Folks, you will never know what these poor women went through, helping me sculpt and refine scenes, paragraphs. I was cruel and even had them doing research and translations. Dorothy, Ha, Si, Simbel, Novedhelion, Gliowen, Mary, Vi... I thank you much! There are others I know, but I'm crying right now...

4. All the slash-only readers who read me. Yeah - there are a bunch of you. I hear from you separately, privately. I'm glad Bronwyn made you laugh and cry. And I am really glad Haldir fell in love with her. (And she with him.)

5. May. Now, May might not see this - then again, she might. I'm not on her favorite person list. Personally, I do not care. But I just wanted to thank her for making me so angry that I became determined to finish this in the way I wanted. I saved that last conversation and last 2 horrid letters and when I was down and not knowing where to go, I re- read them. And they made me mad again. So, I finished it anyway. And you know what? When all was said and done, Bronwyn became EXACTLY what I wanted her to be; feisty, furious, immortal (sort of), mouthy, and totally devoted to her man....er Elf. And Haldir became exactly what I wanted him to be: in charge, arrogant, vexed, and willing to be what she needed him to be.

6. Everyone who has reviewed me - thank you so much for reading. This has been an experience and I have kept EVERY single piece I have recieved.

And in the end, she followed him.

All previous disclaimers still apply

Epilogue:


Luuuuucy, I'm hooooooome or Forever you'll be...


Head of ribbons running down the brae
In the morning, in the morning
Barefoot sister and a milking pail
Turning around


At the weekend the boats come in
From the herring, from the herring
Wife's and families and the table laid
Turning around

War is over and the boys come home
from the fighting, from the fighting
love letters and a great unknown
turning around

Counting your blessing at the village hall
To the dancing, to the dancing
A little loving and a lot of soul
turning around

You too your beauty and a heart of gold
To the altar, to the altar
Bound forever in an August vow
turning around

The skies of wonder shone around your door
little children, little children
Three men who couldn't love you more
turning again

One door opens and another closed
On the parting, on the parting
new arrives and a family grown
turning around

Head of ribbons running down the brae
in the morning, in the morning
pulling moment for the clock of faith
turning around

chorus

Forever you'll be eyes of blue
In the circle of your youth
Picking every blade of truth
Down the Newton Road


Forever Eyes of Blue

C. and E. McDonald

Runrig

***

For many years, she stood on the cliffs. Eventually, they made a bench for her and she would sit, a wolf or two at her feet.

And she would call to her children.

In the beginning, it was every evening, at twilight. Haldir would sit with her, listening to the news. They realized quickly that time passed slower here in Valinor, than it did back in Middle Earth.

Beckett and Orelinde kept their huge brood in Rivendell, their children growing by leaps and bounds. And as they aged, Bronwyn spoke not only to Beckett, but to the one destined to take her bow. Their seventh child, Reuel.

Anselm's desire to wander was curbed for a short time. She and Heridil also raised their five children; Turlough, Ariellia, Meralinde, Morgane, and Haldir in Rivendell. And as children do, they reached adulthand and departed, leaving their parents alone. Only Reuel stayed. It was inevitable on the night Bronwyn called to Beckett to discover that Anselm's wanderlust had finally taken flight and Heridil had been forced to follow her.

"The East? The East? Beckett, there is nothing in the East, but wicked men!"

I know, Mother.

Anselm and Heridil were not heard from again, but Bronwyn did not feel a sense of violent loss, rather the ease of pain of old age from the both.

She knew when Orelinde passed. It was a feeling, an urge, and she called Legolas to her side the night she called and her grandchild answered, telling her of the loss and of Beckett's desire to not linger. She held Legolas through his grief that night and a day later, he held vigil as she and Haldir grieved the loss of Beckett. True to his desire, he had not lingered.

As the years and centuries passed, she could be caught, seen, going slowly through the portfolio of portraits Rumil had drawn or the picture album of Duncan. "It is funny," she whispered to Galadriel, one afternoon, "I can relieve any moment I wish with any of my children, but these, -" her hand grazed over the parchment, not touching, lest she smear the lines, "- these bring me such comfort."

Faeowynne's sons were a much needed distraction to all around. True to Faeowynne's prediction, the twins were like having Elrohir and Elladan around agaShe She had gone into labor eight months after their arrival in the Undying Lands and much to her consternation, both Haldir and Elrond had assisted with the birth. The boys looked like their fathers and acted like them. Bronwyn loved the rascals and while Haldir pretended to be gruff, he too, indulged them, taught them as only he could.

Elrond and Celebrian swore the two would be the death of them. But they were not complaining. In fact, many said it was the first time they could remember Elrond smiling and laughing in ae!
e!

Even Celeborn could be seen striding through the streets, a dark-haired Elfling attached to each foot.

"Do Godzilla, Gran'Ada Celeborn! Godzilla!"

"That is your Granmere Bronny's speciality!" He would remind them.

"No! No! Godzilla!"

"Very well," he would mutter. His hands would go up in a mock claws. "ROOO!!!!!!!!"

"He does not do Godzilla right, Haldir." Bronwyn whispered. "It should be a screech, not a roar!"

"Who cares?" Haldir's hands were everywhere as he pulled her into the shadows of the trees surrounding their home. "As long as they are on HIS feet and not mine!"

She spent time, going through the countless boxes, reading. Many days, one could see her chasing Gandalf down the road, a scroll wadded in one hand...

"Gandalf! This makes no sense! Dammit to hell! Stop trying to hide from me, you old git! You know you can't out run me! And do not turn and do that dark-growing thing you do! I'm not impressed and it won't scare me off!"

On days like those, Haldir went hunting with his brothers.

She met Elves of the past, Elves important to history.

In Glorfindel, she finally found a worthy opnt int in bawdy songs contests. Elves either cringed and ran or flocked to the common areas when they heard the two of them yell to each other "KEGGER!" On these nights, the two held court, trying to out-disguse ote other.

"What are these ‘limericks' you talk about?" The Ultimate Elven Warrior asked her once. Elven ale was potent in Valinor and the month this particular barrel at been made was a good one. "How are they set up?"

Bronwyn was leaning up against Gimli... no... Gimli was leaning up against her... no... they were definitely leaning up against each other... she slammed her tankard down and looked over, trying hard to focus on the beautiful blonde.

"Fivnez.nez. Firs' two and las' rhyme, third and fourth... oh bother. Jus' lishen!"

"There was a young man in the choir
Whose voice rose higher and higher
Til it reached such a height
It was quite out of sight
But of course, you know I am SUCH a liar!"

"Tha's how itz done!" Her nose went back in her tankard of ale. Glorfindel smirked.

"You mean...

"There was an old man from Tagore
Whose tool was a yard long or more
So he wore the damn thing
In a surgical sling
To keep it from wiping the floor...

She looked up from her tankard. "Izzat the bes' you kindo?" Her ever present guitar was whipped around...

"A rapturous young fellatrix
One day was at work on five pricks
With an unholy cry
She whipped out her glass eye
‘Tell the boys I can now take on six!'

Some nights, Haldir wanted to crawl under the table and pretend he never knew her. Too many nights, the contests were proclaimed draws.

Erestor quickly became a trusted friend and confidant. The quiet Elf sat with her, going through box after box, patiently discussing every iota and detail. His penchant and talent for cataloging and organization far surpassed Bronwyn and she began to lean on him for many things.

Many times, going through the boxes, she found hidden notes from her children.

"Hello Mama. Today is my 33rd birthday and do you know what I am do I a I am packing boxes in Issen... (crossed out) Isan (crossed out) Esen...(crossed out) Orthanc. Anselm is singing that stupid song again, about Old McDonald having an Orc. I would like to turn her favorite doll into an Orc, but than Ada would be angry with me. I love you, Mama. Beckett"

"Mama. I promised no tao tattle, but Beckett is really being mean to me. Maybe when you read this, you will tell him he should not be such an awful brother. I love you. Anselm."

Pages and pages of childish drawings.

Beckett drawn as a Orc. Many times.

Anselm drawn riding high with Treebeard.

Faeowynne drew bulls eyes. Very colorful bulls eyes.

A tall Elf, a short woman and three children. My family. I love you, Mama. I love you, Ada.

Many times, she cried and Haldir would gently remove the aging parchment from hands and take her to bed. Sometimes, he let her cry it out. Many s, hs, he made love to her.

They made love everywhere.

Three hundred years after the death of Beckehe the talked her into agreeing one more time.

Her entire pregnancy was unusual. She knew this was a special child she carried. And the moment the boy slipped from her body into Elrond's waiting hands, the look on his face told her she was right. He and Galadriel quickly cleaned the child and handed him to her. As Haldir had done so long ago, he reached around her and pulled the blanket from the babe's face.

She knew. She knew immediately from the unusual spacing of the eyes, the features...

"Hello, my Duncan."

***

As time passed, more and more Elflings were born to ElveElves. Their numbers grew and many sent their young to be taught by her.

They witnessed the actual happenings while being taught. And much like the Elves had been caught up in her haphazard control of visualizing events, little Elflings rode rollercoasters and climbed mountains. They ‘saw' snow and listened to great symphonies. They learned of Ages past and Ages to come. Sometimes Frodo and Sam joined them, adding about their lives. Gimli was welcomed as well and the young ones were quite curious about the Dwarves and Hobbits.

It was not unusual to see them all running through fields of flowers, singing silly nonsense songs, Bronwyn in the lead.

Orophin became the Elf she remembered. Soon, she saw him hand and hand with Alilian, who had returned to Valinor many years before they had.

"Elrond, I thought Elves bonded for life."

"They do, Tithen Aras."

"But Orophin... Lera..."

Celeborn was sitting with them under a tree. His smile was wicked. "We did a not so nice thing. Men have this little sentence in their marriage ceremony..."

"We did not do a formal bonding ceremony." Elrond blurted.

"What?" Bronwyn was vexed. "What did you do?"

Elrond and Celeborn looked at each other, slightly... ashamed.

"We blessed their union. Until death do they part."

Oh.

There was music. Music she had never heard, never knew existed and she gloried sitting with many Elven Harpers and lute players, listening, learning. This was Utopia, it was heaven...

But twilight... that was her time with her children. They were numerous and spread through the world.

"Confuscus! Write it down, boy! Write it down!"

"Socrates... geez, son!"

"Cleopatra! Girlfriend! You are walking a VERY delicate line! The Romans will you you alive if you are not careful! And then, where will Egypt be?"

"Merlin! Get that idiot Uther out of that pub and into her arms. Disguise him as her husband if you have to!"

"William Rufus! If you continue to tax the hell out of them, you will end up with an arrow in your throat! Grrrrr!"

Haldir was standing behind her that day.

"Why are you growling?"

She turned angrily on her heel and stormed off towards their cottage. "I swear, Haldir! Your children are hopeless! Fucking useless and hopeless!"

Haldir followed after, yanking on his braid. "Why is it," he retorted, "when they do something remarkably stupid, they are MY children?"

She jumped up and down with joy when Turlough was born.

She cried when he died.

And soon, she began to recognize the signs that she had been told to look for.

"Tell them," she told Haldir. "Tell the Elves, time comes. A century. Give or take. The first World War comes and it will lay the foundation for the next one hundred years."

She stood that night, on the cliffs, calling to her child.

It is time.

"John, John, harken to my words..."

Over the ocean, the waters, beyond the gulls, the craigs, the fog, young eyes looked up.

Yes?

John, John do you hear my voice?

Bright eyes shot up from the book he was reading.

Yes.

Listen most carefully my child. I am going to tell you a story about a great man, a curious traveler, who sailed far West to the an island that the Fairy Folk called Tol Eressea, the Land of Release. His name was Eriol...

For a long time, the child listened, listened carefully, until he was jolted from his reverie, by his teacher's loud grumblings...

"John? John? John Ronald Reuel Tolkien! You will NEVER amount to anything if you do not pay attention and learn how to read!"...


***

Fini

Or is it?

***
Began 2/21/03
Finished 10/10/03

Sequel Announcement: Tel' Lindar. Launch date - 10/31/03