Upon Earth's Opening

Epilogue: At Last

Caen knelt in her garden, digging her hands into the earth for which she was so named. She thrived on the feeling of the soil between her fingers and as every year she gathered the fruits of her labor, she proudly prepared for the next year; a sort of ritual of keeping an eye on the future as well as the present. She picked up the spade at her side, dug it into the soil, and upon the opening of the earth she tenderly placed in the seeds she had collected from last year’s harvest. This annual ritual of creating had come from a deep regret of what she had destroyed; a repayment to Arda for every offense to its nature. Whispering a prayer to the Valar as she covered the seeds, she prayed for a good harvest to come.

Every year, she tended the garden with love and gladly fed the children who came around with apples and tomatoes she had picked that morning. But today on this cool fall afternoon, Caen was restless. She turned the soil and planted seeds for next spring’s crop, feeling no peace within her. A breeze moved the tree in which her talan was situated and the leaves whispered their ‘Ssh…’ to her, perhaps reminding her restless soul to relax. She closed her eyes and let the wind rush her and embrace her. She felt suddenly much better. She finished her work and stood, wiping her soiled hands on her skirts. She climbed up the rope ladder to her talan, thinking, perhaps, to fix herself a midday meal, but as soon as she stepped foot into her kitchen, she turned right around and climbed back down the ladder. She suddenly was not hungry. The peace within her that had presented itself had left as quickly as it had come.

After endless hours at sea, his eyes spot the first sign of land. His heart leaps at the sight, and he knows his time is drawing closer and closer.

She walked to the edge of the wood, thinking perhaps to visit Elladan or Elrohir and their families, but standing at the foot of their neighboring talans, she changed her mind yet again. She turned to face the direction of Elrond’s dwelling, but did not even attempt to fool herself: she would not want to go there, either.

Too anxious to remain aboard any longer, he vaults the edge of the boat and wades to shore. There are so many familiar faces ashore; all waiting to talk to him… he passes them by without a word.

She turned around and went back into the forest and, bypassing her own talan, decided to go to the cliff side. The cliff side faced East and was a frequented spot of lovers. Caen wistfully watched a pair of lovers disappear into the forest, feeling the pang of Legolas’ long absence from her life. There were times, such as now, when she felt the pain more than others, but it had long dulled into an almost ignorable pain- a dull ache which haunted her every day. She had a few happy memories of her love to cling onto in these times of painful solitude.

He passes the archery grounds and spots the twin sons of Elrond, locked in a competition as ever they had since they were young. He passes them by, but he feels a pair of eyes on him. He looks behind him to see none other than Elrond himself standing in the doorway of the hall.

She remembered their last few days together. Elrond and his council had allowed her three days in Imladris to pack and settle her affairs. Without ever consciously deciding to do so, she had spent most of her time with Legolas. She had refused his proposal of marriage, saying, “Legolas, let me start a new life. Then you can have me.”

“But I want you now,” Legolas had whined. He had then nuzzled into her neck in a very Legolas-like way, and Caen had almost caved then. She had reminded herself that she had no idea when she would see him next to snap back into reality.

“Not now, Prince,” Caen had said, placing her finger on his lips with a bittersweet smile, “but soon enough.”

Legolas had left on his quest the day after she left west. They had spent every hour with each other, making memories to last them the centuries they would be apart.

“I will come as soon as possible,” Legolas had said when she was to start her journey west with many other Rivendell elves. “As soon as the war is over,” he had promised.

“No, Legolas. Do what you have to do. Only when you can stand it no longer, come and sweep me off my feet,” she had given him a wink and a half-hearted smile, trying to lighten his mood.

“I can barely stand it now,” Legolas had whispered back to her, bringing her in for one long, lasting kiss. Caen had melted against him and tried to memorize every plane of his body.

“I love you,” Legolas had said when he dragged his face away from hers.

“I love you,” Caen had replied. And with that, she had mounted her horse and left with one final glance back at her love.

Elrond says nothing to him. Slowly, intentionally, Elrond nods deeply. After an intense moment, a spell seems to release. He turns away from the Lord and continues, his pace increasing. Anxiety permeates his soul. It has been far too long!

How many times since that day had she replayed those last moments in her head?

He breaks into the open air again, and stops suddenly. His prize, his reason for being, was so close, he wanted to shout.

How many times did she wish that she had agreed with him and said, ‘Yes, do come as soon as possible.’

“I’m driving myself crazy here, alone,” she muttered darkly to herself. And just as she expected, nobody answered her.

Slowly, mesmerized, he walks forward, prepared to at last become whole again.

She sighed once more, stood up, and walked right into an elf.

“Sorry,” she muttered to her feet as she overbalanced. The elf reached out to steady her with a strong grip, and she moved to pass him. She could not deal with anyone today… She just wanted to return to her lonely home and her garden.

The elf let her pass without a word. He let her walk twenty paces and then yelled after her, “Will you marry me now?”

Caen whirled around and stared, dumbfounded. “L-Legolas?”

“Your very own Prince to rescue you from your solitude.”

“By the light, you’re here!” she said, running back and launching into his embrace kissing his lips and his face and holding him tight. He twirled her around and set her down and kissed the wind out of her.

“Oh, Legolas,” she said, leaning into his embrace and never wanting to detangle herself from his embrace and his woodland smell, and the sound of his heartbeat against her ear.

“I’ve missed you,” he said with a wide, cheeky grin.

“I haven’t,” Caen said, with an even larger one.

“I can tell.” Legolas kissed her again, and she melted once more against him. “I think you’re lying to me again, though.”

“Me? Lie? Never,” Caen said, wearing the biggest smile she had ever worn.

“Have you forgotten the question again then?”

“What question, again?”

“Now will you marry me?”

“Only if you promise to never let me go,”

“Of course, I won’t.”

“Then yes. Take me away and make me your wife.”