Eönwë came among them and taught them; and they were given wisdom and power and life more enduring than any others of mortal races have possessed.
Second Age,Year 2:
“I’m a Maia, not a... a cememmótar,” Eönwë muttered to himself as he gazed upon the several Atani looking at him expectantly. Most of them were handling the farming implements that had been handed out to them as if they were weapons of war. Eönwë winced when one hapless Atan nearly decapitated his fellow with the scythe he was trying to wield.
*You are a pëantar,* Lord Manwë bespoke him from Aman, mildly reprimanding him, *and farming will not be the only thing you will teach these Children.*
*I still do not understand why I have been chosen for this mission, lord,* the Herald of Manwë said. *Did I do something wrong?*
*Wrong!?* Manwë exclaimed. *This is not a punishment, Eönwë, but an honor, or so I hope you will see it in time.*
*An honor to watch these Children stumble all over themselves trying to be what they are not?* Eönwë asked in disbelief, watching with dismay as Elros Eärendilion tried (unsuccessfully) to bring the group of Atani to order. *Even Elros is less than sterling as a leader of these people.*
*He is still very young,* Varda pointed out. *Give him time. Give them all time.*
*But why me?* Eönwë groused. *Would it not make sense for those Maiar who are versed in specific crafts to teach them what they need to know? Or, failing that, the Eldar? I know nothing of farming or animal husbandry or anything else for that matter except fighting.*
*Gil-galad and his people are too busy with the construction of Lindon,* Manwë said patiently, *and Círdan has his hands full with all the ships that have to be built, not only for the Elves who wish to now sail West, but also for the Atani who will go to Andórë. As for why you and not another, that is very simple. These Children know you. You are the Captain of the Host of the West and they trust you. You may call upon your brethren at any time for help, but they will remain unclad. You are the only one these Children will see and with whom they will interact.*
Eönwë sighed. What his lord said was true enough, but he still had his doubts. Yet, watching as young Elros cast him a sheepish grin as order of a sort was finally won, he couldn’t help but feel anything but love and compassion for them. They had fought (and died) so valiantly and none had come away from the war unscathed. Yet, the survivors, at least those who had indicated a desire to go to the new land which even now the Valar were raising out of the ocean and making habitable, were so eager and excited about this new life of theirs that Eönwë couldn’t help smiling at their enthusiasm.
“Right, then,” he said smartly, effortlessly switching from Quenya to Sindarin, putting aside all doubts for the moment. “These implements are not weapons, but tools, tools to help you in the growing and harvesting of crops. Now, I need a volunteer to help demonstrate the proper method of using a scythe.”
It was no surprise to the Maia that Elros was the first to raise his hand. “Very well, Elros,” he said, resisting a sigh, gesturing for him to step forward. He eschewed using any titles that these Children might have for themselves, wishing to treat them all equally without any favoritism, but Elros made it difficult, always volunteering. Still, the lad was supposed to be their leader, so he made allowances for that.
“Now, hold the scythe like so,” he instructed. “Keep your feet comfortably apart to maintain balance. You’re going to use a swinging motion, like this.” He pretended to be holding a scythe, mentally following the instructions of Lady Yavanna’s Chief Maia, Cemendillë, as he ‘saw’ her make the appropriate movements. “Got it? Good,” he said with a smile at Elros’ nod. “Now, let’s give it a try.”
He pointed to a field of tall weeds and grasses which they were using for practice. Elros raised his scythe and started his swing, twisting just right and coming down at the proper angle. Eönwë felt a momentary rush of paternal pride at this scion of both Elves and Men, but then watched in disbelief as the lad inadvertently let go of the scythe, sending it winging directly towards him.
He had just enough time to go incorporeal before the blade would slice him open. The scythe then continued on its trajectory, crashing into a nearby oak tree, lopping off one of its limbs in the process before falling to the ground. Eönwë could tell that the tree was less than pleased by it all.
“Oops,” he heard Elros say as he reformed his fana. He heard Cemendillë laughing hysterically and even Lord Manwë snickered in a most unlordly manner.
He sighed at the chagrined expression on Elros’ face. “Let’s try it again... slowly.”
“Lord Eönwë?”
Eönwë looked up from the notes he was making on the ‘soaring scythe incident’, as his fellow Maiar were calling it, and smiled. “Come in, Elros, and sit.”
The Perelda entered the Maia’s pavilion which was set up on the outskirts of the tent ‘city’ where the Atani were living until such time as they left for Númenor. The ‘city’, irreverently referred to by many of the Atani as Estolad Edwen, was perched on a headland in Harlindon, overlooking the Gulf of Lhûn.
“I’m sorry about earlier, my lord,” Elros said quietly as he took a seat.
“That’s all right, child,” the Maia said. “Your enthusiasm is appreciated but you need to temper it with a modicum of sense. You’re trying too hard.”
Elros sighed. “I know,” he said. “It’s just that... I feel I need to prove myself to the other Edain, show them that I’m worthy to be their leader.”
Eönwë gave him a piercing look. “Prove to them or to yourself?”
Now Elros blushed and would not meet the Maia’s eyes. “Both, I guess.”
The Herald of Manwë nodded. “You are still quite young....”
“I’m sixty!” Elros protested. “By the standards of the Edain, I’m... I’m middle-aged.”
Eönwë could not help but laugh at the affronted look on the lad’s face. “But by the standards of your elven heritage, you are barely out of elflinghood.”
“Yet, I’m no longer counted among the Eldar,” Elros said.
“In terms of your eventual fate, no,” Eönwë conceded, “but you still have the physical attributes of the Firstborn which you inherited from both your parents. That has not changed regardless of your choice.”
“Then why do I feel so inept?” Elros complained.
“Because, as I said earlier, you are trying too hard,” the Maia explained gently. “Elros, you’re not expected to become a wise and able ruler overnight. It will be years, decades even, before you and your people can leave for Númenor. Take that time to grow into your new role.”
Elros sighed, looking dejected. Eönwë smiled fondly at him. Elros had already begun to adopt the fashions preferred by the Edain, his dark hair cut short around his shoulders. He recalled how Elrond had looked askance at his brother when he appeared with his locks shorn at their last meeting before Elrond left with Gil-galad to found Lindon on the north coast of the Gulf. It had not been an amicable parting between the brothers and the Maia grieved for them both, but knew he could do naught to ease the hard feelings (mostly on Elrond’s part) that lay between them. Hopefully, in time, Elrond would forgive Elros for what he deemed a betrayal by his brother.
“I’ll try better next time, lord,” Elros finally said.
“And that is all that is ever asked of us,” Eönwë said, “that we try. Do not seek perfection, for it cannot be found. Seek instead to be the best you can be within the limitations of the abilities given you by Eru. And perhaps,” he added, “you might let someone else volunteer for a change, hmm?”
Elros blushed and nodded. “Yes, lord.”
Eönwë smiled. “Good. Now, off you go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Elros stood and gave the Maia his obeisance before exiting the pavilion. The Maia sat for some time staring at nothing in particular, deep in thought, then sighed and went back to his notes.
Eönwë looked at the group comprised primarily of women with a few men, including Elros, in the mix. During the past month or so as the Maia continued to teach the Atani the agricultural arts, Elros had heeded Eönwë’s advice and had stopped volunteering for everything, for which the Maia was thankful. He could not fault the lad for his enthusiasm, but he had to admit that things had gone more smoothly over the following weeks. Eönwë was actually beginning to enjoy his role as a teacher.
Of course, there was that incident with the runaway horse, but Eönwë could hardly blame Elros for that. Alatar, Lord Oromë’s Chief Maia, had been a bit bored with his assignment of helping Eönwë teach the Atani horse husbandry and had decided to have a little fun at the Atani’s expense. The Maia had induced the placid gelding that Elros was just about to mount to suddenly buck and go running off with Elros still clinging to the reins. It took some time for them to calm the horse down with Eönwë scathingly dressing down Alatar to within a inch of the Maia’s life. Luckily, no one was seriously injured, but Elros was mortified before the other Atani, for he was justifiably proud of his abilities to handle any horse with all the innate confidence of his Elven kin. He had become despondent and it had taken Eönwë several days of cajoling and two bottles of Gil-galad’s best wine to bring him around and see the humorous side of the incident. Not that there had been, Eönwë reflected, then almost laughed out loud, remembering the aftermath. Lord Oromë had not been pleased with his Maia and Alatar had been reassigned — ‘temporarily demoted’ as Roimendil, one of Lord Oromë’s other Maiar, described it — to cleaning up after Nahar. According to Roimendeil, Nahar was making sure that there was a lot to clean up.
But today the lesson was about the medicinal properties of certain plants. Eönwë would have preferred Elros’ brother to come and give this particular lecture, but he knew that Elrond would have felt very uncomfortable with the idea. Instead, Nielluin, Lady Estë’s Chief Maia, was standing unclad beside him, her flowery scent unnoticed by the Atani because of the many fragrant herbs that were on the table before them.
“Today,” Eönwë said without preamble, “ we will begin studying some of the plants that will be found on Númenor that will be of benefit to you. As you are Mortal and prone to illnesses and disease which do not touch the Eldar, it is important that you understand what medical properties these plants have that will help alleviate pain, bring down fevers, stimulate blood flow and so on.”
He paused at the grimaces and looks of resignation on the faces of many of his students and gave them a compassionate look. “There is no shame in who and what you are, my children,” he said gently. “You are as Ilúvatar made you, and though your lives are brief compared to the Eldar and fraught with maladies that they do not know, you have great strengths within you to overcome much of the adversities that touch your lives.”
“Except death,” one of the women answered.
Eönwë nodded. “Yes, Melgileth,” he said to the woman. “It is Ilúvatar’s Gift to you, though you do not believe this. I tell you truly, in time, even the Valar and Maiar will envy you as the long ages become wearying to us who have existed from before Time and Eä were ever created.”
Eönwë allowed a few minutes for them to digest his words before continuing. “Now, knowing this, it is to your benefit to learn how to combat the illnesses and diseases that may assail you.” He reached out and picked up a plant with a dark brown coral-like rootstock and purplish flowers. “Does anyone recognize this plant?” he asked.
There was a brief pause and then Melgilith answered, “Lhûgamp, we call it, but it’s very rare. I’ve only seen it once before myself.”
Eönwë smiled. “Do you know what it can be used for?” There were several shakings of heads. “The rootstock is used as a sedative and for reducing fevers,” the Maia explained. “It is indeed rare, so it is often combined with other plants.” He picked up another plant consisting of white flowers. “I’m sure you all recognize this.”
Now there were many enthusiastic noddings of heads. “Nimêg,” Elros volunteered. “Though my brother says it’s called something else in Quenya.”
“True,” Eönwë replied. “It is usually called tarassë, though you will sometimes hear people refer to it as pinehtar or even pipinehtar. At any rate, nimêg is also a good source of a sedative, whether you use the flowers or the fruit. Combined with lhûgamp you have an effective sleeping potion for those who may suffer sleeplessness. Juice from the nimêg’s fruit can be given to restless children to help calm them. Now, these plants combined with one more make for a stronger sedative that can be used on patients to keep them asleep when you must perform a procedure on them.” He reached over and picked up another plant that gave off a fetid smell that set everyone’s noses wrinkling in disgust.
“Yes, this is dúathostol,” Eönwë said with a smile.
“But that’s a poisonous plant, lord!” one of the men protested.
“Indeed, it is, Brandir,” Eönwë acknowledged, “but using the proper dosage, mixed with the lhûgamp and nimêg, it will only produce a deep, dreamless sleep.”
“Could we not use ololoth, instead?” Elros asked. “I know Elrond used it often enough during the war when treating the wounded.”
“You could,” Eönwë said with a nod, “but ololoth has certain side-effects that you might wish to avoid. Elrond used it because the flower is plentiful and easily harvested. Even so, he limited its use. The combination of these three plants, however,” he pointed to the lhûgamp, nimêg and dúathostol, “does not produce unwanted side-effects. Care must be taken, of course, that the dosage of dúathostol is strictly monitored. Too much and your patient will indeed sleep and never wake.”
There were understanding nods from the group.
“Good,” the Maia continued briskly, pleased at the responses of these students. Some, he knew, would eventually go to Lindon and study under Elrond for a time, but for now, it was important that they learn the basics. “Now, we will divide into groups of three. You will see that several tables have been set up with all the necessary equipment and supplies needed to create this deep-sleep potion. So, Melgileth, why don’t you, Brandir and Elros work together. Haleth, you, Mitheryn and Andreth....”
Soon all of them were ranged around the tables, diligently preparing the sleeping potion under Eönwë’s directions, or rather under the silent directions given by Nielluin. The Chief Maia of Estë kept a close watch on all the Atani, alerting Eönwë when she noticed where there might be a problem. There were many complaints about the smell of the dúathostol and Haleth came in for some gentle teasing when she began sneezing at the lhûgamp and had to switch places with Mitheryn who was working with the nimêg, but on the whole, the lesson was going well and Eönwë breathed a sigh of relief when all the potions were successfully produced.
“Well, now,” he said with a teasing look. “The proof is in the pudding, so they say. I would like one of you to volunteer to take this sleeping draught so that the rest of the class can observe its effects. Is anyone up for a nap?”
There were nervous titters from the women but otherwise no one came forward.
“Er... how long a nap, lord?” Brandir finally asked. “Whoever volunteers will miss out on the rest of the lesson.”
“I realize that, Brandir,” Eönwë admitted. “Whoever drinks this will most likely sleep until early evening, but you will not miss that much. I only plan to introduce you to the other plants that I’ve collected and briefly tell you about their medicinal properties. We won’t actually work with them until tomorrow. Whoever takes the potion, I will go over this part of the lesson with them when they awaken.”
There was a brief pause, and then Brandir nodded. “Then, I volunteer, lord,” he said.
“Thank you, Brandir,” the Maia replied. “Come over here and lie down.” He motioned to where a cot appeared under a spreading oak near where they were holding the class. Brandir complied and was soon downing the potion. The other students gathered around and watched as the man began blinking and yawning.
“Don’t fight it, Brandir,” Eönwë said gently. “Just allow yourself to go to sleep.”
Within five minutes Brandir was snoring away, much to everyone’s amusement. Eönwë covered him with a blanket and silently asked Nielluin to watch over the Atan. “Now, why don’t we continue the lesson?” he said to the others and soon they were gathered around the main table while Eönwë began telling them about the other plants, quizzing them on what they already knew. Nielluin was able to supply him with the information he needed even from her position under the oak tree, keeping a clinical eye on the sleeping man.
“So, here we have mîdhaer,” Eönwë said, coming to the last of the plants, “which has a lovely smell and....”
There was a moan and then a dull thud as a body hit the ground. Everyone turned in surprise to see Elros lying unconscious where they had been making the sleeping potion. Eönwë was by his side immediately, examining his vitals, wondering what could have happened to the lad, until he noticed the empty cup next to Elros’ hand. With a sinking feeling he rose and went along the various tables, noticing that each cup in which the sleeping potion had been concocted was empty.
“Oh for the love of Atar,” he mumbled in disbelief as he watched Mitheryn futilely shake her king in an attempt to waken him. Elros, however, continued sleeping.
*I will just call up another cot, shall I?* Nielluin said to her fellow Maia, trying unsuccessfully to keep the amusement from her voice.
Eönwë sighed. *Make that two cots,* he said. *I feel a headache coming on.*
Nielluin merely snorted.
Eönwë looked up from the report he was reading when he heard Elros stir and watched dispassionately as the youngster struggled awake. In the end, they had taken him to his own pavilion and made him comfortable. Nielluin waited until the Atani were gone before incarnating in order to check Elros’ condition. She shook her head.
“It’s a wonder he isn’t dead,” she said.
*Well, if he does show up on my doorstep,* the two Maiar heard Lord Námo say, *I’ll throw him back out, after we’ve had a... little chat.*
Eönwë had shivered in sympathy. Lord Námo’s chats were legendary even among the Maiar. Bets were made among the Maiar as to how long the lad would sleep. Eönwë smiled thinly as he ‘heard’ some groans from some of his fellow Maiar who had guessed wrong.
Elros blinked up at him in confusion and then sighed as he came to the realization of what had happened. “How long have I been out?” he asked as he leaned back on his pillow, closing his eyes.
“Four days,” Eönwë answered.
“What!?” Elros fairly leaped out of bed in shock.
Eönwë smiled. “And every Mortal female from twelve-years and up volunteered to tend to you and see to your... er... personal needs while you slept.”
The Perelda collapsed back on the cot with a groan, his head in his hands. “I’m doomed,” he muttered.
“Not yet,” Eönwë said with a smirk. “Don’t worry. Brandir, when he awoke, and Haldan,” naming one of the other men in the herbal medicine class, “agreed to tend to you.” Elros sighed with relief and then Eönwë spoke again. “So, do you want to explain yourself?”
Elros gave him a sheepish grin, though the Maia saw nothing amusing about the situation. The lad seemed to realize this and his mien became more sober. “I was curious,” he replied.
“Curious!? Curious about what?” Eönwë demanded, just barely holding his temper. “Do you realize your curiosity could have proven fatal? Then where would the Edain be if their king was dead without an heir?”
“I’m sure they would have found someone else for the role,” Elros retorted angrily. “It’s not as if I’m that important. Others are equally capable of leading the Edain, and probably they would do a better job of it than I anyway.”
The Maia stared at the youngster in disbelief while Elros sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, his expression rueful.
“He warned me,” Elros said suddenly, speaking low.
“Who?”
“Elrond. He warned me that eventually I would weary of... of ‘playing with the Edain’, as he put it, and regret that I had made the choice that I did.”
Now Eönwë was getting a glimmer of what was truly motivating the lad. “So you’ve set out to prove your brother wrong. You’ve decided to show him that you are more Edain than the Edain and that you will never regret your choice.”
Elros looked up and gave him a shrug. “I guess,” he said.
“So why did you drink the potions? What were you trying to prove, other than the fact that you can be as stupid as the next person.”
Elros winced at the acerbic tone of the Maia’s words. “You said I still retained the physical attributes of the Eldar,” he stated and Eönwë nodded. “I was surprised at how quickly Brandir succumbed to the potion.”
“Well, that’s the general idea,” Eönwë said with a faint smile. “It wouldn’t do to have to wait an hour or so for your patient to finally fall asleep before you can treat him.”
“Yes, well, I figured that,” Elros said with a snort. “Yet, I was curious to know just how much of the potion I would need to take before I, too, fell asleep.”
“Quite forgetting my lecture on the dangers of overdosing on the dúathostol,” Eönwë reminded him. “The other two plants, together or separately, would not have been too dangerous no matter how much you had taken, though you might still have found yourself incapacitated for a time, but the amount of dúathostol that you imbibed would have killed any lesser Mortal.”
“But I’m not Mortal, you said so,” Elros protested.
“Physically, you possess the attributes of the Firstborn,” Eönwë said, “but do not forget that you also have Mortal blood running through your veins. You are not pure Elda, but neither are you pure Adan. There lies your dilemma, does it not? For all that you’ve chosen the fate of the Mortals, you do not feel completely one with them and thus, you do not feel that you are the king they need or want.”
Elros nodded, though somewhat reluctantly. Eönwë leaned over and placed a comforting hand on his knee. “Child, for better or for worse, you are the logical choice to lead these people. You know that you and Elrond are Gil-galad’s heirs and if he had not survived the war, all else being equal, your brother would now be High King of the Noldor in Ennorath.”
“Yes, I realize that,” Elros averred, “and Elrond would make a good king. He has a natural flare for leadership. I do not.”
Elros sighed and rose from the cot, grabbing clean clothes and a towel and headed for the communal bathing area while Eönwë continued sitting in contemplation.
Two days later, Elros received a surprise visitor — Círdan of Mithlond.
“So, what brings you to Estolad, Uncle Círdan?” Elros asked, giving the ancient Elf-lord a kinsman’s kiss in greeting.
“You do, lad,” Círdan said, returning Elros’ hug and giving him a warm smile. “I was telling Eönwë that I’m in sore need of someone to help me.”
“Help you how?” Elros asked, his expression one of great puzzlement.
“I’m swamped with work,” the Sinda said. “I need someone to help me with the logistics of getting all these ships built. I have a number of Edain who expressed interest in learning the art of shipbuilding but they are a bit undisciplined and I was hoping you would come back to Mithlond with me and help me out with them. They need someone to guide them. I recall you were pretty handy around a ship. These Edain would benefit from your expertise.”
Elros gave him a jaundiced look. “Cannot the Elves who are there do that?”
“My people are teaching them what they need to know in terms of building a ship,” Círdan replied, “but only you can give them what they truly need.”
“And what is that?”
“A sense of purpose,” Círdan replied. “As I said, they lack discipline. They know that the ships they are helping to build will eventually be used to transport all of you to Númenor, but that is years away, decades even, from what I’ve been told. For the Mortals, it’s too long a time and too vague a timetable for them to really appreciate just how much effort it is going to take to get all in readiness for your eventual migration. That’s where you come in. As their king, you have their respect and they will follow your will where they will not follow mine.”
“I’m not much of a king,” Elros said softly. “Lord Eönwë can tell you.”
“Hmm... so I’ve heard,” Círdan said, giving him a measuring look. “Then, perhaps, you will benefit as well. You give your people the proper incentive for building the ships and I will give you pointers on how to be a more effective leader. After all, I’ve been at it a lot longer than you and I’ve picked up a few tricks here or there along the way.” He gave him a wide grin. “So, what say you, lad?”
“What about the people here in Estolad? I cannot be in two places at once. They need me as well.”
“Rather say, they will need you in the future,” Eönwë interjected, “when you are settled in Númenor. In the meantime, I would accept Círdan’s offer. He is one of the oldest of the Firstborn here in Ennorath and has had millennia of experience in leading his people successfully. You could learn a lot from him.”
“I know,” Elros said with a nod. “Well, if you think you can do without me for a time....”
“I will look after your people, Elros,” Eönwë said. “They will be well.”
“Then, I will go with you, Uncle,” Elros said.
Círdan gave him a huge smile and a hug. “That’s my elfling, then.”
“I’m not an elfling, Uncle,” Elros said with a grin, “not even close, not any more now that I am counted among the Edain.”
“Lad, no matter what you choose to be, you’ll always be an elfling to me,” Círdan said with a laugh and gave Elros another hug.
Eönwë and Elros’ subjects watched as the ship taking their king to Mithlond sailed up the Gulf, everyone waving farewell. Brandir sighed with relief as the ship disappeared around a headland and gave Eönwë a lopsided grin. “I hope he never finds out that, while he was sleeping off that potion, the rest of us had decided to send him to Lord Círdan for a time.”
Eönwë gave the Adan a fond smile. “He won’t hear it from me, but in truth, I had been thinking of sending him to Círdan before this.”
Melgileth nodded. “It’s good that he wanted to learn the things we are learning,” she said, “but he was learning all the wrong things and making it difficult for the rest of us. Now he has the chance to learn the things he needs to learn in order to be the king we need and deserve.”
“And he in turn needs and deserves the very best from us,” Brandir added, “so, shall we continue with our own lessons, my lord?”
Eönwë nodded and gave them all a smile. “Yes, let us even so.”
Thirty years later:
Eönwë stood apart watching the ships that would take the Edain to Númenor sail down the Gulf towards the ocean. It had been an interesting time, he reflected, and smiled as he spied Elros in the lead ship, standing at the wheel, an excited look on his face. Elros had spent most of the last thirty years by Círdan’s side and had matured remarkably during that time. Whenever he came to visit his people in the Encampment, Eönwë could see the wisdom and competence growing within him. He had no fear that Elros would not prove an effective and capable king, just as he had no fear for his subjects. He had taught them all the necessary skills they would need to be successful in their new lives; the rest would be up to them.
He nodded in satisfaction as the last of the ships disappeared into the blue and looked over to the headland where a lone figure stood. He sighed at the sight of Elrond who stared out to sea with a great hunger in his eyes. He had not joined the other Elves in farewelling the Edain but had kept apart. Eönwë felt sorry for the ellon, but knew that Elrond would have to come to terms with his brother’s decision on his own. Then, feeling eyes upon him, he turned to see Círdan and Gil-galad staring at him, their expressions of concern nearly identical. Eönwë knew that their concern was more for Elros and what the future would bring him than it was for Elrond at this moment. He gave them a nod and a reassuring smile and then, with a single thought, faded from their view.
Words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.
Cememmótar: Farmer, literally ‘earth-toiler’ [cemen‘earth, soil’ + móta ‘to labor, toil’ +-r ‘gender-neutral agental suffix’].
Atani: Plural of Atan: Mortal, Man; the Sindarin form would be Adan (pl. Edain).
Pëantar: Giver of instructions [pëanta ‘give instructions to’ + -r ‘gender-neutral agental suffix’].
Andórë: ‘Land of Gift’, another name for Númenor.
Fana: The raiment in which the Valar and Maiar presented themselves to physical eyes, the bodies in which they self-incarnated.
Perelda: Half-elf; the Sindarin form would be Peredhel.
Estolad Edwen: (Sindarin) Second Estolad, literally, ‘The Other Encampment’. The original Estolad was the land south of Nan Elmoth where the Men following Bëor and Marach dwelt after they crossed the Blue Mountains into Beleriand.
Ellon: (Eldarin) Male elf.
Note on the plants mentioned in this story: The real world properties with which these plants are associated are well known among herbalists. The combining of these plants to produce the desired result mentioned in the story is purely fictional. The names are Sindarin.
Nimêg: Hawthorn (Crataegus oxyacanta),also called ‘Whitethorn’ [nimp (nim-) ‘white’ + êg ‘thorn’]. In early Qenya sources, Tolkien gives us tarassë, pinektar, and pipinektarz. In later Quenya he decided that the consonant cluster -kt- (or -ct-) became -ht-.
Lhûgamp: Coral Root (Corallorhiza ondontorhiza), also called ‘Dragon’s Claw’ [lhûg ‘dragon’ + gamp ‘claw’].
Dúathostol: Henbane (Hyoscyamus niger), also called ‘Fetid or Stinking Nightshade’ [dúath ‘nightshade’ + present (active) participle of thosta- ‘stink’]
Ololoth: Opium Poppy (Papaver somniferum) [ôl (olo-) ‘dream’ + loth ‘flower’; In early Qenya sources, Tolkien gives us fúmella or fúmellótë ‘flower of sleep’. In Third Age Quenya, fu- tended to become hu-. As there is no attested word for ‘sleep’ in Sindarin, I have used the associative word ‘dream’ instead.
Mîdhaer: Rosemary (Rosemarinus officinalis),‘Dew of the Sea’ which is the actual meaning of the plant’s name.
