Restoration and Rebuilding Instadrabbling by Lindariel

"Melin, see what Sirion has brought! I found it lodged in a clump of reeds." Enerdhil watched as Meleth put her basket on the table, parted the bundles of rushes and lifted out something with her two hands. He recognized the beaker she held as Tirion work, its raised and inlaid metalwork depicting Noldorin dancers on the Plain of Valmar. Deep claw marks furrowed the brim, just where the Two Trees stood.

"I can re-work that," he said. "The Trees are destroyed, but I shall show our kin dancing again, just as we in the Havens do: under the Sun."

Chapter End Notes

The beaker in question originally belonged to Fuilin of Nargothrond and is described in The Lay of the Children of Húrin.

Fingolfin watched Maglor as he rode away, then forced his eyes back to the northern shore of Lake Mithrim. How had his brother's children managed to create a small city here in such a short time, with so few resources? Here stood dwellings of cob and stone, simple yet pure of line though made of the rudest materials. The layout revealed their concern for access to water, travel routes, and spots where decorative planting had been undertaken. It would be a challenge to fulfill the promises of this location, but he was going to relish improving on his nephews' work.

The line of oxcarts began their slow rumble westward. Babies wailed, drivers shouted, and the group of counselors around Haleth began to sing one of the oldest traveling songs.

Estolad had been nothing more than a waystation for her people since Haleth had rejected the protection of Caranthir and moved them there. There was nothing to ground them here on this endless plain, no hills, no forests (save the magical Nan Elmoth on the northern march), no natural boundaries to define or defend. Even the folks who did not wish to travel were happy to see it disappearing behind them.

Elrond looked around the ruins. "This place has always reminded me of my great-nephew's astronomy tower in Númenor. Some of the lines are very similar."

"Where now are the masons who can rebuild so grand a dome?" Aragorn sighed.

"Bring Éomer and Gimli here. Tell Gimli you only brought him to look upon it, and suggest it is beyond rebuilding. Éomer will agree with you, and Gimli will have contracted his people to do just that before you can climb down to the river again," laughed Elrond.

Aragorn laughed as well. "Do you think so?"

"Count upon it," Elrond replied.

As the moon rose above the mountain, ithildin veins began to glow, revealing the western gates of Hollin. Celebrían scooped the last spadeful of dirt out of the second hole and looked at her mother expectantly. "Now what, mother?"

"Now we replant the trees that gave this land its name," replied Galadriel. Galadriel held the holly sprig in cupped hands, breathed on it gently, then set it in the hole. She filled her silver ewer with water from the lake and carefully watered the sprig. As it took root and began to grow, Celebrían mirrored her movements, and Galadriel smiled.

Galadriel turned to the chest she had not opened since leaving Doriath. From it she gently lifted a wool tapestry and a small basket of bobbins. She selected yarn, threaded a needle, and set to work, not noticing Celeborn's approach until he asked "what are you doing?"

"Mending my first tapestry. You see that hill across the valley? It is the one from my tapestry; I wove it the day Melian taught me how to weave future truth. If I mend the holes in this tapestry, I will know how to shape our home of mallorn trees on that hill."

Chapter End Notes

This drabble is based on my story Fair Things Yet to Be.

In the hidden city of Gondolin, Idril held the swaddled newborn Eärendel close to her face. Her lips moved, but not even Tuor could hear the first words she spoke to her child.

Far away in south Ossiriand, Dior held his swaddled newborn Elwing in just the same fashion. The music of Lanthir Lamath masked the words he spoke to her as he named her.

But no distance, no stone walls, no waterfall could stop Mandos from hearing both the parents' prayers, and he nodded. The time had finally come, and the menders of Arda had been born at last.