Wishes Fulfilled by My blue rose

Wishes Fulfilled

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440^th Year of the First Age: 

Sunlight filtered through the clouds, a spider web of filmy midday light that washed the world in vivid color. A pleasant change after long weeks of grey monotony that was Autumn in Dor-lómin. Crispness in the air lingered from the morning rainfall as three women walked from the stone hall of the Lord of the Folk of Marach to the banks of Nen Lalaith, arms laden with baskets. Along the stream, river plants grew thickly forming a kind of hedge of willow herb, fleabane and hemp agrimony. They sat down on boulders shrouded in moss, placing the baskets at their feet, withdrawing spindles and bundles of flax. Wetting their fingers in the damp grass, they began spinning the fibers into yarn.

“Are you still tired? Gildis inquired of her son’s wife.

Hareth had been feeling fatigued the last few weeks. She was dressed in a woolen gown the same sparrow’s-wing color as her eyes. Her hair was dark, like all Haladin, bound in a single plait and crowned with a circlet of elaborately braided silver wire; a wedding gift from the High King of the Noldor. Gildis was wearing a similar circlet of gold wire that had likewise been a marriage gift from King Fingolfin, her unbound tresses now more grey than golden. The first frost was likely less than a week away and it was cold enough that they all wore capes as a shield against the wind. Even so, they kept their hoods down, seeking to enjoy what was likely to be the last sunny day before Winter arrived.

“It is not so bad now. The mornings are the worst.”

“How fares your sister? Gildis asked.

A messenger from Brethil had arrived four days ago bearing news from Ephel Brandir.

“She is with child. The babe shall likely come after Winter solstice,” Hareth replied with a wistful smile.

“That is auspicious!” declared Hador’s mother in the tongue of their people for she knew that Hareth’s sister, Hiril, had wed in early Spring.

Gildis shot Himina a glare for while Hareth spoke Sindarin well, she knew little of their tongue. Hador might have decreed that only Elvish would be spoken in his household yet he was not so foolish as to attempt to stop his mother from speaking in whatever tongue she wished. The old woman worn a grey gown a shade darker than her hair and was mostly toothless, her deeply wrinkled checks caved in, giving her face the appearance of a dried plum. Yet perhaps it was well Hareth could not understand. Among the people of Marach, it was believed that good fortune would follow a couple who had their first child ere they were married a year.

It had been over four years since the double marriage between her daughter and the lord of the Haladin and her son and Hareth.

In that time no children had been born to either women, leaving Hador’s House heirless. Hareth had miscarried two babes, while Gildis’ daughter, Glóredhel, had conceived not at all, much to their distress This lack of fertility had led to speculation among her people that Hador’s children were cursed with bareness. That perhaps the long years of his service to the Elf King had damaged his seed with their uncanniness. None were so foolish as to repeat such rumors in her presence. Gildis had found out about them in the most humiliating way imaginable, when the Lord Fingon, had asked her about conversations he had overheard during the Midsummer festival.

Despite the long friendship between Hador and Fingon’s father, the Elf managed to remain curiously naïve of the beliefs and ways of Men.

“That is a welcome coincidence for my daughter has said that her courses are late again, and she believes she is also with child,” Gildis said.

Hareth glanced at her, giving a shy smile. “My courses are also late for the second time.”

Gildis laughed delightedly.

“Praised be!” she cried, leaning forward to embrace her son’s wife.

This news had brought her a measure of hope that perhaps her greatest wish had been fulfilled and that her and Hador’s line would not fail all together and they would know the joy of grandchildren.