In The Winter Garden

Over the next few days Legolas, Tindómë, and Rumil ascertained that, when alone in the Winter Garden, neither ellon saw the elfling. Both of them, however, saw him if they were there with either Haldirin or Tindómë, and increasingly, more clearly than Rumil had on the first occasion with Haldirin.

The Winter Elfling still seemed shy with Legolas or Rumil, although eventually both managed to get him to speak a few words, but he would let only Tindómë touch him – he would lean into her touch as a flower leaning into the sunlight. Tindómë began to feel guilty if she did not spend time with him – he so obviously craved ‘mothering’.

It was difficult, though, to find reasons to be in the Winter Garden so much; especially without Éowyn.

“I do think, nethig,” Legolas said to Tindómë as they came down to breakfast, “that you are right that Éowyn will be very upset at the idea of a small ghost in her garden. And equally upset by how sad and alone he is… But if we cannot find some excuse, soon, for spending time with him she is going to become very suspicious.”

“We’re due to leave soon, to go home,” she answered, “but I really don’t want to leave the poor little thing alone, now that Haldirin has woken him.”

“It would be easy to arrange for Éowyn to ask you to stay longer…” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “But if we three cannot come up with an answer to the problem, in the next week or so, perhaps I should go back to Minas Tirith and speak with Lord Celeborn and the twins. After all, I am no lore master; I am but a simple warrior…”

Tindómë snorted, somewhat impolitely.

Legolas ignored her and continued. “Master Elrond would, surely, have known what to do. Or Mithrandir. But the twins learnt more from their father than they would often have us think, and Lord Celeborn is a lore master as well as a warrior. If they were also to invade Éowyn’s gardens, however, she would most certainly become suspicious…”

…………………………………….

Sure enough, Legolas commented to Éowyn that it would be wonderful for Haldirin if he could take his favourite pup home to Eryn Ithil and, when she agreed, he went on to suggest that it might make sense for Haldirin to stay, with his parents, until the pup was old enough to leave his mother. The invitation to extend their stay was made before they had finished breakfast.

That evening Legolas, Rumil, and Tindómë sat out amongst the trees, once the rest of the household had settled for the night, thinking again about the Winter Elfling.

As Legolas poured wine into goblets Tindómë settled herself down with her head resting on her husband, her feet against her ‘brother’, and took out a notebook and pencil. Rumil smiled to himself…

‘When the Valar’s Key dropped almost at my feet,’ he thought, ‘we were certainly spared the possibility of life, without fear of The Enemy, becoming boring…’

“So, guys,” Tindómë opened the conversation, “What do we know so far? The elfling’s parents must have been killed, or taken captive, or they would, certainly, have come back for him. It was a long time ago…” She was ticking things off in her notebook as she went along.

“The elfling must have died; and Lord Namo came, called him, but he ignored the call because his parents had told him to wait there. So, he became one of the Houseless, and he’s never left this place. Uh… and he might have been ‘asleep’ for a long time… or he might just have had a very, very, long Groundhog Day.”

“Ground Hog Day?” Legolas asked.

Rumil had heard the phrase from his wife before; he enlightened Legolas.

“Anyway,” Tindómë went on, “somehow or other Haldirin connected with him; probably to do with being an elfling and with The Key thing. However it happened, they managed to create some sort of a portal between a time around when the elfling was last alive and the present day. We go back through the portal to him, but he is totally stuck there – he can’t come out of his winter to our summer…”

“Of course,” Legolas said. “I had not thought of it in those terms, but it does seem to be what you call a portal. But there is no green light… I thought that portals had green light?”

“Key ones usually do…” Tindómë said slowly.

She paused briefly, as if to consider it, and then went on, “Maybe the green light is hidden somewhere, or it isn’t really The Key that caused the portal, or… well almost anything. Might just have to remain a mystery I guess.

“It doesn’t alter the fact that if we are trying to reunite a sort-of-undead elfling with his parents, help him move on from here, we need a plan.”

She took a sip or two from her wine, tapped her pencil on the page a couple of times, and then spoke again.

“I’m guessing we need to attract Lord Namo’s attention. I mean – the usual system is elf dies, gets the call, his fëa goes with His Lordship, time in Mandos’ Halls, new body and release into Valinor… Yes?”

“I think that sums up what we know…” Rumil said, smiling a little, “even if none of us have been through the process.”

“Come to think of it,” he added, remembering the visits his wife had made, both with and without him, to Imladris, “you have spoken, at more length than I have, to the only person we know of that has been through the process – and quite possibly you have also had longer conversations with Glorfindel than Legolas.”

“It’s not exactly the sort of thing you chat about over dinner…” his wife replied, “but I guess, if we’d all got it wrong, he probably would have told us. Anyway – if, at the ‘elf-dies-and-gets-the-call’ stage, you ignore the call you become one of the Houseless? Yes? But there can’t be many other Houseless elves around here or ‘our’ elfling wouldn’t be all alone…”

“I have been taught,” Legolas said, slowly, “that the Houseless stay because they are too attached to their home here, or to those who they hold most dear. I don’t know if they are aware of other Houseless elves… I have never thought about it.” He sounded very serious.

‘Of course,’ Rumil thought, ‘everyone believes that more wood elves choose to remain Houseless than any others. Perhaps Legolas is thinking of his mother, or just of friends.’

His own mind drifted to his, part wood elf, brother… ‘No! Haldir would have answered the call. He was a warrior; he would have seen it more as a command.’

He was sure that, had Haldir’s fëa remained at Helm’s Deep, his brothers would have been aware of it on the night that they had mourned him so greatly. Haldir was going to be reunited with them when they sailed West. Totally… as Tindómë would say.

He brought his thoughts back to what his wife was saying currently.

“When it comes right down to it, what we need is some way of attracting Lord Namo’s attention, and the usual way is not exactly available to us…”

Legolas looked at her from below raised brows.

“Dying,” she said as if it was completely obvious. “None of us are thinking of dying and even if there were still elves dying in battle which, Eru be thanked, there aren’t, we couldn’t exactly take the Winter Elfling there and hope he tagged along with a passing fëa, could we?

“But,” she continued, “if we don’t attract Lord Namo’s attention, how can the elfling go to Mandos’ Halls and be reborn?”

No-one said anything for some time; all three were deep in thought. Eventually Legolas spoke.

“If there is already a portal, between the time the elfling was alive and our time, could you, somehow, create a portal between here and Mandos’ Halls, nethig?”

Rumil knew exactly what Tindómë would say in answer. He repeated it along with her…

““Opening a portal requires complex magic. The Key, alone, is required to close one.”

“So,” she continued on her own, “I might be able to, somehow, permanently close the portal so that we couldn’t visit him any more – but that seems too cruel…”

Rumil and Legolas both agreed with her.

“I guess we could try to find Radagast again – he knows how to use The Key to open portals,” Tindómë said, eventually. “He probably knows the etiquette about opening one into Lord Namo’s domain… He might even know how to attract Lord Namo’s attention back to the little one, so that he can go to Mandos’ Halls and then be reunited with his parents.”

“Finding him could take some time,” Legolas pointed out. “And we would really have to give Éowyn some explanation for Radagast turning up in her gardens – he is not, exactly, someone you could smuggle in quietly…”

Tindómë giggled.

“We might have to consider it, though,” Legolas said, “alongside consulting Lord Celeborn and the twins. But perhaps, before that, we should all offer up prayers to Lord Namo tonight. Although,” he smiled slightly, “I doubt that he is one of the Valar who expects to hear prayer…”

“M’kay… I guess it’s worth a try,” Tindómë said, “although I think I might try one to Nienna** - this little one and his parents must have shed many tears over this, and endured the separation for a long time…”

She looked both sad and serious and then, through their bond, Rumil could feel a small bubble of amusement before she went on speaking.

“Or maybe we could just shout up loudly to the twins’ granddad, as he passes over, and ask him to take a message…”

Legolas looked at her quite seriously before answering.

“I intend to spend the rest of the night here – the trees help me think. Perhaps I should try asking Eärendil to take our request to the Valar when he passes just before dawn… it might work.”

Rumil could feel just how sceptical his wife was at that idea but she said nothing.

He was torn between wishing to stay with Legolas, amongst the trees in the heavy, warm, night-scented air, and joining Tindómë in the large bed inside the stone-walled house. Memories of her earlier giggles, and then the mental image of her mouth around his grond, decided him in favour of his wife.

Before he went indoors, however, he joined his voice with Legolas to sing prayers to Lord Namo. Legolas said, again, that he would ask Eärendil for aid as Gil-Estel shone as the morning star. Tindómë, however, knelt on the soft grass, and Rumil knew that she was speaking quietly, words addressed to Nienna, and Elbereth, and Eru himself, asking for guidance.

She had told him, once before, that this was how she remembered the mother in the other place teaching her to pray. For the sake of the small, sad, elfling Rumil hoped that at least one of them had been heard.

………………………………………………………………………………….

** Nienna – Lord Namo’s sister, known as the Lady of Tears – grief and mourning are her province, and she teaches pity and endurance.

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The BtVS characters do not belong to me, but are used for amusement only. All rights remain the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and the original TV companies. The same is true of the LotR characters for whom all rights remain the property of the estate of JRR Tolkien and the companies responsible for the production of the films.