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When the message arrived from Círdan, to say that the fleet of ships would be waiting whenever Thranduil and his people were ready to sail, it took only a matter of weeks to complete all the preparations that had been put into place during the past four years or so.
Much of the packing was already done, decisions already made as to what would be taken and what left behind. Already most of those who had chosen to remain in Eryn Lasgalen had simply melted into the forest; only a handful of those who would stay remained close to the stronghold, to empty it completely when the cavalcade left, and allow nature to reclaim it.
He had wished them all farewell on that last progress through the Great Greenwood with Ardoron and his focus was, now, all on what lay ahead.
This would certainly be no sorrowful procession sadly looking back at what they were leaving. He had come to this great forest as a young warrior in his Adar’s entourage; they had travelled from Lindon with no sure destination, and no idea of what sort of welcome they might find. But this time, thanks to the young elleth who would in time, he was sure, become his law-daughter, he knew that there were vast forests waiting; he could almost hear them calling out to his fëa from over the Sundering Sea.
And, also thanks to Ithilienne, he knew that not only had Haldirin been right, that his beloved had not remained here in Eryn Lasgalen as one of the houseless, but that she was whole, and well, and waiting for him on the other side of the Sundering Sea. Soon he would feel her fëa touching his again and the part of him that had remained empty for yeni would be filled.
Those who had travelled with messages to and from The Grey Havens had said that many of the mortals they met along the way had turned aside and hardly spoke. They were not sure whether the men even realised that these travellers were elves.
But he was the last Elven King to leave Middle Earth and he was determined that his progress, and that of his people, would be remembered by all those mortals who witnessed it. There would be no doubt as to who they were, and those who did witness it would pass the story down to their children, and their children’s children, until it became a legend.
They left at dawn, some walking and some on horse-back. Thranduil rode at the head of the column, bejewelled hair topped with a crown of leaves, and wearing a cloak embroidered with gold over a tunic so decorated that it twinkled in the early morning light. Beside him his son and law-daughter matched his splendour, and above his head flew the standard of his house. Behind him all his folk were also dressed in their finest clothes, the horses tack shone, and all the warriors had bows and quivers on show, with swords at their side, or knives on their backs.
The first day they rode through the Greenwood and some of those who had chosen to remain came to wish them well, as they passed, then faded back into the forest. By the first night they were still within the trees, but there were no longer any villages this far from the heart of the forest, and it was as if the trees hardly noticed their presence. As the next day wore on the trees thinned out, and on the third day they reached the first of the villages that the mortals had built in the fringe of the Greenwood.
These villagers, of course, were aware of the elves living in the heart of the forest, and word of such a large number approaching had reached the village ahead of them. The village elders stood together at the edge of the road, others just behind them. They made no attempt to stop the procession but, as Thranduil drew level, the elders each put a hand to their heart and the head man said “Farewell, and good speed, your majesty.”
Thranduil nodded his thanks and the elves continued to go forward, looking straight ahead.
This was the last village where they received such a greeting.
It was, by no means, the only village they passed through as they travelled. Each day they would travel for nine or ten hours, with a rest stop in the middle of the day, and set up camp (to a greater or lesser extent depending on the weather) each evening.
Where the road passed through a mortal settlement it sometimes seemed as if everyone stopped what they were doing and stood and stared. As they should, in Thranduil’s opinion. But sometimes he could see children being called indoors by their mothers, and only the menfolk standing outdoors, often with a weapon of some sort at hand. He wondered just what life was now like, away from Eryn Lasgalen.
They carried supplies with them, of course, and some of the warriors would hunt, or fish, whenever circumstances allowed. To augment these they began to develop a system whereby, as the main cavalcade passed through a village or small town where the inhabitants simply stood and watched them pass without seeming to be ready to fight if required, a group of around ten would peel off near the end. These elves would then ask if they could buy provisions. As they carried coins, and even gems, to pay, usually a deal could be made.
If the inhabitants looked as if they expected to be attacked, the elves simply proceeded through the place, apparently ignoring them completely and staring straight ahead.
The journey took its toll. They tried to find wooded areas to spend their nights, but they could no longer refresh their fëar from the contact, for all the trees now seemed as if they were so deeply asleep that they would never awaken, and showed no sign that they recognised the presence of wood elves. It was not just the trees but, rather, it felt as if the land itself had decided that the Time of the Elves was past; not even the rivers sang songs they knew.
The journey through the Misty Mountains came almost as a relief, for the land here had never really spoken to them. They passed the road that would have taken them to Imladris, but chose not to follow it even though Thranduil knew the buildings were still in good repair, as it was but three years since the last elves left the hidden valley, and it was likely that the Dúnedain who lived there would have been happy to let them pause for a while. Better, he decided, to carry on.
They skirted the edge of The Shire. It was a respite of sorts – as if something of the hobbits kept their land a little more aware, for here the trees did at least whisper and, as they made camp one evening a group of hobbits appeared and approached them.
Elven hearing meant that Thranduil, and others, were amused to know this was a form of ‘dare’ to prove to others that the elves really existed. Those hobbits returned, at dawn, to their friends and families with elven-made knives and trinkets, traded for fresh vegetables, and the memories of soft singing. At least, here, thought Thranduil, the last journey of The Elven King would enter into folklore!
It took sheer will-power or, as Ardoron later told his brother, sheer bloody mindedness for Thranduil and, by extension, those around him, to put on their formal robes each day. But put them on they did, and road straight backed and expressionless. And the warriors wore their cloaks and carried their bows as they escorted their whole community on the long weary road.
Finally a day came when, just as even Thranduil felt as if he could hardly summons the energy to mount his horse, they were hailed by a group of six riders – elves! Elves who had been awaiting their arrival at this point of the journey. Telerin elves from Mithlond.
Being met by the Falathrim lifted the fëar of the whole party a little and, as the last few days of the journey brought them closer to Mithlond, they began to feel the land respond to them. Although it was not their connection to the Greenwood, at least they felt their passing through was acknowledged.
The mortals, too, came to watch them pass through the settlements along the way, and even offered gifts of bread, fruit, or spring water.
“They know,” one of their Falathrim escorts said, “that you are the last great elven king, and here they have not yet forgotten the part played by the edhel in ridding Middle Earth of much evil.”
The wind blew in from the sea on the last day of their long trek. Although they were not sea elves, nor had any of these travellers felt the sea-longing that has so affected Legolas and, to a lesser extent, Rhîwen, there was a feeling that the sea, too, recognised their presence.
As they approached it, Mithlond felt rather like the Greenwood inasmuch as it had once held many more elves than it did now. As they had ridden in they had first encountered grass covered mounds that were all that remained of what had been homes. Next came walls still showing traces of arched doorways and windows, then came intact buildings that were silent with gardens being reclaimed by nature, before they reached those buildings near the harbour which were still well-kept homes and work areas. On the other side of The Gulf of Luin the sister settlement to this one was already completely empty.
Thranduil thought, as they were met by Círdan, that on the whole his folk looked to have survived the journey well, despite the land they had crossed feeling so alien and unwelcoming.
Had he been party to Círdan’s thoughts when he first saw them Thranduil might have been shocked to find the great shipwright thinking how weary they all looked, how drawn and, somehow, diminished. But this did not surprise him. He had seen elves arrive in much worse condition. Neither was he surprised to learn that Thranduil, his family, and his close advisors, had worn their formal robes and the crown, or circlets, for the whole journey, or that every one of the woodland folk had made the journey dressed in their best clothes, the warriors all armed.
‘No-one who has seen them’, Círdan thought, ‘will forget that they once saw the last of the Elven Kings, as he led his people away from the bounds of Middle Earth for ever.’
…………..
There was a surprising amount of organisation required before the ships would finally sail. Or an unsurprising amount, Thranduil thought, knowing the amount it had taken to get all the woodland people here. The people of the Greenwood needed somewhere to stay, food, and to bathe themselves and wash their clothes.
Thranduil and his family were invited to stay in Círdan’s own home, some of the others were invited into other homes, and there was a large building that was designed to be used as a hostel for those awaiting a ship. Last used by the Imladrim it was dry and clean. The rest of the people of the Greenwood then made camp.
Just outside the harbour the ships floated. Thranduil had known about the ships in theory but had never seen one before. Now there were over a dozen of them – truly an impressive fleet.
“Now that you are here,” Círdan said, “We can begin to properly allocate space, and finish the provisioning. We have already put barrels of apples, and dried meal, aboard, also some smoked fish. And we also have a store of lembas. Now to add fresh berries, eggs, and fresh water.”
“How long do we expect the journey across the sea to take?” Thranduil asked.
“It usually takes around two sennight, sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less,” Círdan replied.
“Not that I doubt you,” Thranduil said, “but how do you know, as it is a voyage from which there is no return?”
“Over the ages,” came the reply, “if all the crews had only sailed once, and not returned, we would have emptied the Havens completely a long time ago. Some of my sailors remained on the far shores on most voyages, sometime because they had family there; sometimes, in more recent yeni, their families have sailed with them. But almost always some of the crew would remain on board, often not even taking the ship any further than Tol Eressëa, and so they did not set foot in the Blessed Realm and could return here with their vessel.
“They tell me that the transition between the straight road and the open sea requires skilled seamanship when returning but, you will be glad to know, that it is much smoother when sailing West!”
“So…” Thranduil almost stuttered on his words, “you are telling me we could have had news from those who had already sailed – but nobody ever told us?”
“My sailors could bring nothing on board if they wished to return to Middle Earth, not even fresh provisions. But at least I always knew that the ships had reached their far port. And now and again, I know, one of the Teleri would break the rules by standing at the dockside shouting things like “Tell Berilion his daughter has a fine son.” But, since the vessel left that carried Mithrandir, Elrond, Galadriel and the two ring-bearers, none of my vessels have returned; all those you see at anchor have been built over the past few years, once we knew your people were ready to make the crossing.
And so, in the past few centuries, we have had no news at all.”
Thranduil decided to say no more. He had no intention of telling the Shipwright that he had received news, by a very different means, of his wife, his father, and even of the land that awaited him and those who sailed with him.
Each of the ships could take a hundred or so passengers and crew in relative comfort; more, although more crowded, if needed. There would be no worries about getting both the Wood Elves and the remaining residents of Mithlond on board, with plenty of space in the deep holds for luggage – and stabling for some of the horses on three of the vessels.
They had known, from the long letters the messengers had carried between Thranduil and Círdan before they left Eryn Lasgalen, that not all the horses would be able to sail. And so which of them would come aboard had already been decided, mainly on their bloodlines and temperament, one or two simply because they were so beloved. There were no worries about those who would remain.
From the day Círdan first knew that the people of Eryn Lasgalen would sail, and that this was the signal for his own people to finally leave Mithlond, plans were carefully put into place. The mortals who lived and worked closely with the sea elves would take the horses. They would also take over the shipyard, to build and repair their own vessels. In return their leaders had pledged that they would pass on, from generation to generation, a solemn guarantee; should any elves arrive at The Havens they must be provided with a craft of suitable size, taught how to sail it, and be fully provisioned for at least a month at sea.
Thranduil did not think it likely that any more of the wood elves would arrive, but there may well be one or two other stragglers. He asked Círdan how many generations might there be before the commission was forgotten.
“Less than ten,” the Shipwright replied, “but it is at least something.”
……….
Once everyone knew which ship they would sail on, the first two began to load both passengers and their possessions. Círdan was not surprised to see some of the wood elves carefully stowing bundles of carved wood. Although the Imladrim had not brought theirs, being from a somewhat different tradition, he knew from the many Galadhrim who had passed through The Havens over the years, that these were the marital beds, so carefully carved by the ellyn, and a statement that they would find a new home in the lands of the west, where they would reassemble them. He might have been surprised, though, had he known what was contained in an ornate chest bearing the great tree crest of Thranduil’s House. Not jewels or precious metals, but a large log of oak, slightly burnt. The first ceremonial fire in the West would start with the spirit of the last one Thranduil had lit in Eryn Lasgalen.
As each pair of vessels was ready to sail, they left the quayside and anchored offshore. So, over a couple of days every ship was full but the final one. Not only had Círdan overseen all the others being loaded, but Thranduil, with his son and law-daughter, had personally spoken to each of his own folk as they had walked up the gangplank of each ship.
Now, Ardoron and Vaniel took their place on the deck of the last ship, the last of the sailors were aboard, and Círdan and Thranduil took their last few steps in Middle Earth and walked up and onto the deck. The gangplank was pulled up behind them, the last rope holding the ship to the quay was cast off and, from the topmast and the stern flagstaff, the breeze gently blew the banners of both Mithlond and Eryn Lasgalen out so that they could be clearly seen.
The other ships were no longer at anchor but waiting. The ship bearing the leaders of the two peoples made its way between them all until it led the fleet – and then as every ship set the sails, the fleet began to leave the Gulf of Luin behind.
………….
It was an odd sensation, Thranduil thought. Not the movement of the ship under his feet, which was not unpleasant once you got the rhythm of it, but the knowledge that you were powerless. Where and how the ship sailed was entirely up to Círdan, his sailors, and Ulmo.
Once away from land, the sea had very quickly become a vast, endless, vista of blue-grey and white, touching the sky at the horizon all around the fleet. Without the sun by day, and the stars by night, Thranduil would have had no idea whether they sailed north, south, east or west, or constantly sailed around in a circle that might last for ever. The vast expanse of sea had been unchanged now for seven days, but progress was steadily west, and there had been enough wind to fill the sails, but no storms.
Perhaps, he thought, there is a lot to be said for sailing in ships commanded by Círdan. Ulmo might have decided to toy with we who had taken so long to finally brave the crossing of his great domain, but could hardly keep the ellon who had spent his life dedicated to the sea from making landfall on the other shore.
There was not a lot to do but watch the sea and think. Some of the warriors took turns, with the sea elves, to climb the rigging and scan the sea around them to make sure the fleet was all in view; and simple messages were relayed between ships by use of flags, more easily seen from higher up. But once away from land there was nothing else to see from there but sea, and so most of those on board stayed on the deck, or down below.
Looking around him he could see a couple of ellyn whittling pieces of wood, which would no doubt become mementos of the journey, a small group of ellyth sewing as they talked, and two more ellyn peeling vegetables from the stores in the hold. Others were, like himself, simply watching the sea, and the clouds above.
Círdan came and stood beside him. “A good crossing so far,” he said. “And with the following wind we should make the straight way within the next two days. And after that we should make landfall within another two or three days.” He paused then added, “It will be good to see my family.”
Thranduil nodded but gave his companion a questioning look. He had never thought of the Shipwright having, or not having, a family.
“My wife sailed with Lady Celebrían,” Círdan said. “Ulmo had sent word that she would be needed. She has a presence that can strengthen badly damaged fëa. My elder son captained the ship that bore the Ring Bearers west, my other son was in the crew.”
“We both, then, have reunions awaiting us. You have my thanks for waiting for yours until I was, finally, drawn to mine.”
Círdan nodded in acknowledgement, and they stood together watching the waves, in companionable silence.
…………………..
Out to the West, on the far shore of the Sundering Sea, there were many elves going about their day to day lives, and a number who were already feeling the pull to get to the quayside.
Legolas woke one morning feeling restless. It was, he realised, very like the strange feeling that he should be somewhere in the days before he was reunited with his naneth.
“I think Adar is on his way,” he said to Ithilienne who was just waking. “I wonder how long before he arrives?”
“I could try to reach him along the dream paths and ask,” she said. “But it might take a few tries before I catch him asleep on board the ship, and he may not know the answer anyway. Perhaps you should ask Naneth if she can ask Lady Uinen; she has spoken to her before.”
“It is probably enough to know that he is somewhere between here and Mithlond,” Legolas decided. “I will go to my naneth; she must feel the same, but she might not know why.”
But he soon realised there was no need to tell her. As soon as she saw him, his naneth said, “They are coming! Thranduil and Ardoron are coming. I woke a few hours ago and simply knew.”
And in a matter of hours, Rhîwen and Cîrdoron also confirmed that they thought their parents and grandfather were on the way. They were not the only ones to feel this, of course, for over the next few days wood elves began arriving from many of their small settlements that were within a seven day walk of Alqualondë. Telerin elves also began to crowd the harbour of Alqualondë, in fishing boats and other small vessels, and it was clear that relatives of so many of the Falathrim were buoyed up with the same sense of ‘knowing’, that whatever ship or, more likely, ships were approaching must surely be the last, for there could be no-one left in Mithlond at all.
If Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían had been required to do a good deal of organisation when the twins and all the other remaining elven inhabitants of Imladris arrived, the organisation required to cope with what was likely, by the number of families that were gathering, to be hundreds of immigrants arriving, was a whole magnitude greater. But since the Elrondionath had delivered the letters from Thranduil to say he had decided to sail, there had been planning meetings between Legolas, his naneth, and King Olwë, who seemed to be relishing the challenge.
A wing of his palace was to be given over completely to the Royal family of Eryn Lasgalen, and King Thranduil’s senior advisors, for as long as it was required.
Those new arrivals who were met by family, be they wood elves or sea elves, would almost certainly then be welcomed into the homes of those relatives, at least in the short term. This should cover quite a number of those from Mithlond and, for any other of Círdan’s people, a whole new village had been constructed a little to the north of Alqualondë, where an inlet could be developed into a harbour, and there was plenty of room for expansion as the various families sorted themselves out.
It was difficult to predict how many of the wood elves this would leave in need of accommodation, but some of the houses that had been made available to the Ithilrim when they had arrived were now empty, or underoccupied, as some had already moved inland, like Orophin and Lithôniel, or Galanthir with his parents and sister. Some of the wood elves without relatives at the quayside would certainly travel with friends to the current settlements inland or up the coast, from where they would probably then move to the new lands. And there was no reason for others not to remain for a while on the ships, where there would then be space for them to spread out.
Now to wait.
……………………..
When the fleet passed from the seas of Middle Earth onto what was called The Straight Road there was a strange few minutes when the flag ship of the fleet, carrying Thranduil who was on deck enjoying the gentle sounds of night, sailed into a bank of mist so thick that he could no longer see the moon or stars above, nor the other ships behind. Within a few minutes the mist dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, but the stars looked subtly different, and there was no sign of the other vessels.
Círdan stood on the fo’castle, and gestured for Thranduil to join him. He seemed totally unperturbed, which was reassuring, and explained that they were now past the point of (at least according to legend) no return. As the ship sailed steadily forwards the other ships appeared one by one in place behind them and, in front, the moonlight reflecting on the water was scattered by sprays of luminescent droplets as creatures, that Círdan named as dolphins, leapt in and out of the water as they rode along the bow wave.
“I think,” said Cirdan, “that we are welcome…”
Three days later, just before dawn, a sailor knocked on the door of Thranduil’s cabin.
“Aran Thranduil, Master Círdan says we are well past Tol Eressëa and will reach Alqualondë by mid-morning, for we have a following wind and the tide is with us.”
“Thank you,” Thranduil said calmly. “Please inform my son if he is not already on deck. I will join him there.”
He took his formal robes from the trunk where they had lain during the voyage, and secured the crown firmly on his head.
As he made his way up to the open deck he would have seemed, to all those around him, both calm and controlled. But he was not, for he had already known, before that knock on the door, that the voyage was almost over. That the long, long, years of being without part of his very fëa were almost over; for he could feel, somewhere deep inside, the faintest awareness of joy, of longing, of anticipation, that he knew were not his – but Ferveren’s.
…………
Tindómë awoke at her own time of day and was aware of a gathering sense of excitement in the air. The couple from Eryn Lasgalen, invited to stay in Orophin and Lithôniel’s room when they arrived in Alqualondë a few days before, were acting like elflings at mid-winter and the voices of others, outside, sounded as if they too wanted to be there, and do that, but were not exactly sure where and what ‘that’ was.
She looked at Rumil. “I will wager you that, although the sun is beginning to rise and Vingilótë is coming to dock from a clear sky, the mist will fall soon,” she said.
He smiled. “Not a wager I will make with you, meleth, for I am sure you are right.”
“We will go,” she said. “We promised to be there for Legolas, and Haldirin and Ithilienne will want to be there for him, and for Rhîwen, too. But we will stay back, as there is no need for us to be there to support them in case they find that their family has stayed behind. We know Aran Thranduil, Ardoron, and Vaniel are on board one of the ships that must be approaching.”
She was right about the mist.
She was wrong about staying back. Legolas arrived not long after the arrival offshore of the mist that always seemed to hide the incoming vessels from Ennor until they were no more than an hour away from docking.
“Of course you must all stand with Naneth, Cîrdoron, Rhîwen and I. You are my small sister, my only family here until Naneth left The Halls. And Ithilienne is… well without her, Adar might never have sailed.”
Tindómë could feel Rumil smiling at that. “He is right, of course,” he said to her silently, “And one day he will admit out loud that they will eventually be soul-bound!”
So now they stood in what Tindómë still thought of as pole position, although she had given up trying to explain ‘why’ to anyone else.
Lady Ferveren, or more correctly Queen Ferveren, stood between Legolas on one side and Rhîwen and Cîrdoron on the other. Tindómë stood beside Legolas, with Rumil, Ithilienne and Haldirin beside her. And in front of them the mists parted and they could see a ship less than half a mile away.
The mist dissipated completely as the vessel approached and a whole fleet of other ships came into sight a little behind that first one. But the eyes of all their small group were on that leading vessel, for at the bow stood Thranduil; not just Thranduil but King Thranduil, robes and crown catching the sunlight. And Tindómë knew it was taking his queen a great deal of effort not to run down to the edge of the quayside and begin to swim.
………….
As the mist lifted the harbour of Alqualondë came into sight. Very like Mithlond must have looked at its peak, Thranduil thought, and he realised the whole area was crowded with people. Somehow, he had not expected that.
He had planned to disembark first, almost certainly be greeted by some port official, and he would wait at the quayside to see all his people onto dry land. Word would be sent to Legolas, who doubtless knew his way around here by now, so that they could make sure his people had accommodation whilst plans were drawn up to go to the new forests that awaited them. Then he would set off to find Ferveren, as their bond would draw him to her even without any help from Legolas.
Instead, he could see her, family beside her, surrounded by what seemed to be hundreds of others watching the ships come in. He felt as if his fëa was thawing in her warmth after it had been frozen for so long, and he had an urge to jump over the ship’s rail and swim to her.
Common sense prevailed. He could see other known faces amongst the crowd, when he could draw his eyes away from his wife, and there must be others on board feeling the same pull as he did. Throwing himself into the sea would not be a good example.
As they got closer and closer he realised, however, that he would not be able to simply greet his wife decorously and then wait to see the other vessels dock. If she was really as she had been before her death, flesh and blood, then once they touched their fëar would soar together, and he would not be able to think of anything but her. He would want to spend days re-establishing their bond and making sure, inch by inch, that this new hröa was exactly the same as her first one…
He quickly passed the task of caring for all those who had travelled this far with him to Ardoron, who smiled knowingly and agreed, saying that he was sure that Legolas would be happy to help.
………….
The ship was speedily tied up, and a gangway put into place, and Tindómë smiled as she watched Aran Thranduil descend it. He did not quite run, but to class his pace as dignified would have been stretching the truth, she thought. Legolas was holding his naneth’s arm, not to hold her back but as support; now that her husband was really here, she looked almost as if she might faint. Then her whole face lit up and, leaving Legolas’s support, she ran.
As the Woodland King and Queen fell into each other’s arms a cheer went up not only from those assembled on the quayside, or waiting on the deck of this first ship, but even from the other vessels now also beginning to dock.
The moment was magical. Tindómë felt Rumil draw her closer, his fëa wrapping itself around hers, remembering their own reunion when she returned to Middle Earth after she was magically dragged back to Sunnydale against her will. That had been a sundering of months, not yeni; she could only imagine the strength of the emotions as this pair were reunited.
No-one else came off the ship, nor moved from where they stood still along the harbour side, for what felt like hours but was, Tindómë thought, probably only about three or four minutes. She realised that she was, already, mentally writing the story of the arrival of the fleet to put into their archives.
…………………….
Thranduil remembered, somewhat hazily, embracing first Legolas and then Cîrdoron and Rhîwen. When pushed, he remembered that the family of Legolas’s ‘small sister’ had been present as well. But in reality, ever afterwards, all he clearly remembered of the hours after he descended the gangway of the ship was the feeling of his wife in his arms, and then the overwhelming flood of emotions, as if a floodgate in his fëa had suddenly opened, as the touch of skin on skin began the process of reestablishing their soul bond.
Somehow they reached the suite of rooms in the palace of King Olwë (Ferveren confirmed, later, that no-one had halted their progress in any way – no formal welcome, no introductions; everyone knew that they would only be fully aware of each other).
He was not sure how long they spent with no company but each other; they relearnt each other’s bodies inch by inch, and spoke their vows out loud to each other, and Eru himself, just as they had when first wed. Food and wine appeared in the ante-room, they ate and drank haphazardly when it occurred to one or other of them. Had he been asked he would have admitted that, for the first time in many yeni, he had not though at all about the people of the Greenwood.
In reality it was about a week before they made any move to speak to anyone else. Then it was to discover that the plans Ferveren, Legolas, and King Olwë had made meant that everything had gone smoothly. Ardoron and Legolas had personally ensured that every one of those who had travelled with him was reunited with family or friends or accommodated in a house or on board the ships. The horses were now in paddocks and had found their ‘land legs’, and there were many letters of welcome from those he knew personally, like Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel, and even Elu Thingol, and also from others he knew of only as names, such as Finarfin (he supposed he would have to get used to ‘Arafinwë’…). There was a formal welcome from Olwë and his wife, and time spent catching up with all that had happened to Legolas during their time apart.
Now he stood on a balcony which overlooked not the sea but the hills to the north west. Somewhere, beyond those hills, beyond the mountains, was his forest. He could already feel it calling to him, now that the joy of the reunion with Ferveren had settled to a steady background hum of happiness rather than the cacophony it had been at first.
She stood beside him, her head on his shoulder.
Thranduil smiled at her. “Meleth,” he said, “there is much to be done. When shall we start – today or tomorrow?”
………………………………
The End.