Chapter 9
Hope Renewed
It is done. Now High Queen of the Elves on Middle-Earth, now we go to war.
I turn to Elrond, "Before we march, you must go to Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Tell him to do as I did. Take up the mantle of his forefathers, if he wishes Sauron defeated, and bring him the sword." I nod to Narsil, in a sheath, by Elrond's side. " Give it to him, by the name of Anduril, Flame of the West, and tell him of any dangers he may face." Elrond nods gravely, he knows that Sauron, whilst sending orcs from Mordor and Haradrim from the South, also sends mercenaries, by ship. "The mercenaries will pass by the Mountain that lies in the end of the Dimholt road. You know what lies there. Isildur cursed them. Now they will answer to his heir." he nods again. "Then you must join us, at the Gates of Mordor. We shall draw him out." "So easily?" He shakes his head. I look at him, "If I know Aragorn-Elessar then he will do as I will. Sauron will not risk the peoples of the land uniting under one banner. He fears the heir of Elendil, just as he fears me and my kin." I smile grimly.
"In this fear he may forget. If he sees me riding out, with Aragorn-Elessar and our peoples with us, to Mordor, in his fear, he will forget that the Ring draws close to its destruction."
"He will fall." Elrond says wonderingly, for once, hope creeping back to him.
I nod. "Now you must go. Pray to the All-Father that the dead army and Aragorn will reach Gondor in time."
***
Garbed in armour, arms by our side, we left for war. for the second time the Avari and the Eldar march as one.
No ocean parts us. Now we will fight and die together, as Eru intended.
Dimly I remember one last thing. My previous plunge into further sorrow, after Sauron had forged the One Ring, before he wielded it. Elrond's twin was Elros. As half-elven they were given a gift- to choose between joining the ranks of the Eldar, or choosing a mortal fate. Arwen's uncle had chosen the choice she made. As a gift, he and his followers were given a life, longer than those of ordinary men. An island, its shape a star, was brought forth from the ocean, by the Valar, to be their dwelling. They named it Numenor, and for centuries, even after Elros' death, it had been a centre of culture, learning, beauty, knowledge and skill, amongst men. I remember the time I spent there, after Elros was made king. We planted seeds, of plants found nowhere but in our lands. We taught these men many things. Their only bar was that that they never sail westward to Aman. Yet centuries later, when his descendants, turned against Eru and the Ainur, as well as elves, the beauty of Numenor was destroyed. Only Elendil and his sons, Isildur and Arnarion had escaped, with those that followed them. Sauron allowed himself to be captured by them and whispered words of charm and power, influencing the king and convincing him to take a fleet, to conquer the lands of the Undying, for immortality, which they craved. They had done so, but then Eru rose in great power and sunk, not only the fleet, but Numenor. The cataclysm was so violent, the world had been changed. I remembered the panic of the children when the earth shook more violently than before felt. They believed the world would end. Yet it was simply changed, no longer flat, but globed. Numenor was gone, along with the work we had put into it, and the legacy of Elros. I remember that in grief. Also, Aman and its islands were taken out from this world. Now the only way to travel there, was through the Port of the Grey Havens, and taking a swan-masted Telerin ship by the Straight Road. So far away it was. Yet I can do nothing for it now. The only thing to do was fight, to ensure the remaining legacy of Elros- Gondor- survives. Numenor, is gone, now Atalante, the Downfallen.
I cannot mourn now.
We march. We go on horses, but when we reach Mordor, we shall fight on foot, for elves do not condemn our animals to suffer pain in war. I ride at their head, Thranduil is at my side, riding beside me. Celeborn and Galadriel, and the leaders of the Avari are also here. But there is another, one that I had not thought to see.
Macalaure, my uncle.
The brother that was closest in heart, to my father, famed for his mighty voice, is here now. I believed he had perished- or faded. After the Silmarils had been taken, he and my father prepared to fight and to die, if need be. My mother had faded months before, after an attack on our lands, whilst she was with Artanis' brothers, believing that my father and I had died in the attack. I remember my father's rage and grief, more so than even Feanaro's had been. She had been there, always, as I was, to be the hand that healed all wounds overseeing the supplies for the Noldor, making them if need be, and a voice- despite my father's protests, to others, for alliances.She had been a true queen, yet she had been more than that. She strengthened, my father, soothed his hurts and healed him, of grief and despair, as well as the wounds he acquired. She was there even as I was. my father had gone mad for a time, and fiercely protective of me. I had been placed under strong guard, day and night. I knew not the deeds he committed in the madness of grief- although they were less worse than his father's- but it was enough for the Silmaril, that had been hallowed by the Queen Varda, so that neither mortal flesh, nor those unclean may touch them, had burned his hand, and he had thrown himself in a pit of molten rock, along with it. Macalaure, his brother, in all things, had flung his into the sea, and for many a century, he had lamented, wandering through the forests, grieving his losses.
He is here now. In the encampment, Elrond arrives, he is stunned and overjoyed to see Macalaure, as he and my father had been as fathers to him. Macalaure smiles and embraces him. Yet, I see the same sorrow in his eyes that he had when he embraced me. Artanis had sent for him. I had wept tears of joy to be reunited with him, he had also, his first joy in centuries.
He looks at me. I see sorrow, mingled with shame, for his deeds, yet also pride and love for me amd regret that my father and mother were not present. His eyes were Feanorian, like mine, darkest blue, nearly black with silver light burning bright, through its darkness. Yet it was a gentler, kinder light than his father's. The lights in the eyes of Feanaro's descendants had seemed different. His presence gave me strength. before I met with the elven leaders, we had discussed my name.
I told him, it had seemed a cruel jest that my father named me Eruvande, the Oath of Eru, when he would swear by Eru's name and much sorrow would it cause. Did I cause him any sorrow? My uncle shook his head. "No." he said. And it was joy to hear his famed voice, strong yet rich and sweet to my ears like wine, deep and clear, but not too deep and loud, strong, yet smooth in equal balancing amounts. It made me think of majestic woods, magnificent peaks, spectacular skies and valleys, and unequalled seas. Aman.
"You gave naught but joy to your father. This you know. After many childless years, both he and your mother longed for one. He had gone to Taniquentil and at the foot of the mountain prayed to Eru that should they have a child he would pay homage to Eru in a way that Eru would find pleasing, for all years to come. I knew not what it was- he told not even me, but you were conceived when he arrived back in Tirion and your father did such homage, even until his death." He paused. "You must have given him great joy and a cause to live, even after your mother died."
Macalaure's wife and children, presuming him dead, had returned to Aman in grief. It was better for them, he said, than to suffer the shame and pain that he felt, after the war with Morgoth. He had caused them much grief.
I pause. "And Estela? Why did my mother name me that?"
"Because you were proof that hope would would repay more than a thousandfold, she said to me. Because she foretold that you would be the strength when others have none and you would be their beacon, you would renew hope when times grew dark. So you have."
I was silent. Then a messenger heralded that all in the meeting tent were ready. I left.
***
Elrond confirmed that Gondor had been saved by the forces of Rohan, their own knights and, most of all, the dead that came once more, with Aragorn, Legolas Thranduil's son and Gimli, the dwarf. He mentioned it had been my idea, and I had reminded him that. "Estela- Hope." he said "You could have no other name. I was right to give Aragorn the name "Estel" after you when he came to Imladris." "But now he must be Elessar, King of Gondor, should Mordor be defeated." I say. Some of us, Thranduil and myself, for once, must go to Gondor." Thranduil nods at this. "Others must join us when we set forth for Mordor. One round of this war has been won. Eru has turned the tables against Sauron, but we must set forth before this window of oppurtunity given to us, closes."
So we did. Elf-horses know little distance, when they gallop. Soon we were at Minas Tirith. The gates of Gondor open to receive us, and people stare as Thranduil and I, along with the guards, ride to the top level.
In the palace, we were received by Legolas, Thranduil's son, whom the latter had embraced with great joy and relief. Then Gandalf came to greet us.
Robed in white, with a staff of the same colour by his side, he smiled to see us, "Hail Thranduil, King of what was Greenwood and what will be again. Hail, with the greatest of joy, to the High Queen of the Elves upon Middle-Earth." Legolas starts in alarm, and stares at us both with wide eyes, and his father confirms it was so, he then drops to one knee. "My Queen," he whispers. I shake my head. No, I would not have him kneel to me. I planned to relinquish the title when Mordor was defeated. Aragorn-Elessar, comes forth and bows, with Eomer, nephew to Theoden, now king of Rohan. I ask that we must convene in secret.
In the throne room, Aragorn mentions that he knew the idea had been mine, to summon the dead Army. Gimli, his dwarf companion stares at me with wide eyes, and I sigh and say, "I protested against such a curse, but now I see that Isildur has done one thing right at last. I am only amazed none remember it." Gimli shakes his head and mumbles that no one would wish to remember such instructions. I laugh. The sound creates smiles, from everyone. Even Aragorn and Eomer, the latter who had just lost his foster-father, and the former, who fears for his Arwen. At least she would be in good hands, even for a while.
I come up with a proposal. "I mentioned to Elrond that, if I knew you, you would do as I would; march to Mordor, before Sauron has a chance to recover his defeat and gather wits about him. I know the losses have been many, but we have little time, if we are to prevent more grievous wounds."
Gandalf and Aragorn nods. "That is exactly what they said!" Gimli exclaims. "They stated that we would draw out the armies of Mordor and give Frodo and Sam a chance to reach the mountain, but they have not mentioned how we would manage to divert Sauron's attention, when he is not easily fooled."
"Really?" I ask. "Saruman once told me that he held one of my grandfather's creations. He offered to return it to me, but I then refused. Gandalf, do you have it now?"
"Indeed, I do." He nods and draws from his robes, an object wrapped in cloth. It is round, and I take it from him. "Aragorn-Elessar, shall we cover the windows and extinguish the lights? We might as well get the others to leave this room, we do not wish Sauron turning his wrath to them." he nods, when the hall is dark and the others have left, I place the ball at the foot of the stairs to the throne. I look at him, and then remove the cloth, Aragorn picks it up, and we both cradle it in our hands. "Do you have the sword?" I whisper. He nods and is ready. Then, before long, something arises, a red-orange eye, made of flame, with a black slit for a pupil. Sauron's eye. "Do you know me?" Aragorn hisses. "Do you know me?" I hiss. "Do you recognize my eyes, from the time whence you were a mere slave of Morgoth? You feared them, as I recall, we are not all gone." I gaze straight into his, and I feel Sauron's fear born of ages past. Yes, he remembered those eyes. We could sense each other's thoughts. Aragorn steps forth, "Do you remember this?" he hissed and he holds up Anduril with the hand that bore the ring of Barahir, the heirloom of his line. I step back and the minute I do, Sauron regains some of his wits. Aragorn sees something inside the palantir and he gasps. Then he drops it. I throw the cloth to cover it. "What is it?" I ask. "What did he show you?"
"Arwen, " he gasps, "he showed me Arwen."
I was silent."He tried to make you fear him the way that he feared us. Mistake it not for truth. Hope has been renewed, you and I are such proof."
Top:Elros, Elrond's twin who chose mortality. Second from Top, Left: Sauron in the First Age, Second from Top, Right: Maglor/Macalaure the Mighty Singer Estela's uncle. Above: Maglor plays with twins Elrond and Elros, while Estela's father watches from behind. Bottom: Aragorn confronts Sauron in the Palantir, after Estela steps back.
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