The Return of the King by Kaylee Arafinwiel

The Return of the King

Read The Return of the King

'Hallowed be these frozen fields, and every single one of us still left in want of mercy - take us home.' -The Wailin' Jennys, 'Starlight'

The Eglath wandered under starlight - for how long, who could say? They walked, and they wandered, and they wearied - but relentless they were in their pursuit of lost Elwë. Elmo and Olwen gathered their people about them, keeping them together lest more be lost, like strayed sheep. They crossed many hurdles together - rushing rivers and treacherous rockfalls - and ever the Eglath sang.

Their song swelled, their only defence against the Hunter who came in the dark, for Song he could not easily abide. Certain of his creatures were less repelled, always a danger. But the Eglath's scouting party at last entered the wood of Nan Elmoth, and Elmo vaulted forward, Olwen behind him, crying out at the sight of their missing brother. Elwë was there, and he was not alone. Moreover he had changed - tall and fair he had been, but now he was taller and fairer still, as bright as the Maia who stood beside him.

"How long?" Elwe whispered, gathering his people about him. "How long have we been sundered?" Melian looked gravely at the Eglath, whose faces shone in her light. "Two hundred years, my husband," she murmured. "But let us be parted no more. Your people are my people." 

Your people are my people. Elwë smiled, keeping his hand in Melian's, as though half afraid she would disappear if he did not. The scouting party, headed by Elmo and Olwen, returned to the settlement of the Eglath in  what would become known as the Forest of Neldoreth. The tall beeches had telain among their branches, platforms joined together by ladders, with railings and coverings about them. Moving into the treetops kept them safe from the Dark Hunter and most of his creatures, though it had to be owned there were those that flew or climbed, and elflings who climbed down to the ground were still not safe.

Nevertheless, when Elwë, gleaming like stardust, walked into their midst with the glow of Melian the Maia about him, all the Eglath descended, many struck silent by awe and wonder.

Not so one of the boldest of the elflings. Picking up a stick he had fashioned into a crude spear, he glared up at the couple with moss coloured eyes, brushing pale gold hair out of his face as he brandished his spear.

"Halt! Who are you and what is your business with our people?" he demanded.

Elwë looked down at the elfling, his own eyes gleaming like stars. "Such a brave little warrior," he observed.

"I am brave," the elfling agreed. "Who are you?"

"I am Elwë." 

The elfling faltered, looking to Olwen for reassurance. "Uncle Elwë? Lost Uncle Elwë?"

"He is no longer lost, Mablung, my son," she remarked with a faint smile playing about her lips.