Starting Anew

Revelations

OoOoO

Grandmother was given a funeral worthy of any person of high regard. Despite the work and time required to move so much snow, the men and women of the village spent an entire day digging out the main square. Legolas gladly threw himself into the onerous task alongside the others, the better to let his thoughts turn over the old woman's final words and worry at them like a dog with a stubborn bone. Being of noble birth, Thranduil's son was not used to menial labor. The repetitive motion of shovel into snow was strangely enjoyable though; a chance to relax the mind while the body worked.

Finally the cold ground beneath the walls of white was exposed, tufts of brittle brown grass poking through here and there. It was on this that they built a bier of deadwood gathered from the forest. Legolas and the twins did most of the retrieval by virtue of their ability not to sink into the snow even with their arms laden.

Although Legolas did not speak overmuch with Elladan and Elrohir during their numerous trips back and forth between the square and the forest, their presence never more than twenty paces away was comforting. They moved like deer under the barren branches, leaving scarcely more trace than the hoofed creatures would have. By the time the sun was setting the Dunedain and the elves had finished their work.

The fading light lending the snow a golden glow, the atmosphere of the village turned quiet. Assembling together around the bier, everyone gathered their cloaks about them to keep out the chill. Even some of the folk who were afflicted with the winter sickness came out from their homes. Strider was there, tall and regal despite the redness of his nose and eyes. They all stood in a circle, awaiting the guest of honor.

A faint creaking issued from the doorway of Delia's house, and Andris's mother emerged from within. Pale but composed, she had unbound her curly brown-gray hair in a gesture of mourning to let it fall about her face and shoulders. Andris followed behind, and in his arms he carried Grandmother's body wrapped in a white shroud. The branch of a weeping willow was tucked into a fold of the cloth; a symbol for the dead.

The young ranger followed his mother along the path through the snow to the square where everyone waited in silence. With incredible tenderness for a youth with such big hands and arms, Andris laid the old woman's body atop her pyre. As though noticing an imperceptible crease in the material he paused, taking a final moment to straighten Grandmother's shroud before stepping back beside Delia.

For a moment there was no sound save the faint whistling of wind in the pines and the crackling of torches. As the shadows of evening lengthened Legolas could see new details emerging in the faces of those whom he had thought he well recognized after a month among them. Andris looked older in the firelight, his brow hooding his eyes. This was not the youth whom Legolas had wrestled with besides the river, but a man grown.

Looking at Elladan and Elrohir, Legolas could now see that there were in fact subtle differences to the twin sons of Elrond. Elladan stood somberly, but that did not keep the torchlight from contrasting his slightly softer, more rounded chin to Elrohir's sharpness. Elrohir was the elder. Legolas didn't know how he knew that with such certainty; there was just something in the way the elf stood as if subconsciously at the ready to protect his brother.

The fire was revealing new elements of everyone, things that the sunlight and moonlight could not show at a glance. Gazing at the white-wrapped figure waiting upon the pyre, Legolas wondered if perhaps Grandmother had been able to see the things in people that only fire could otherwise tell. Suddenly aware of his own flesh and blood about him the prince of Mirkwood wondered just what it was that his own face revealed.

A voice rose in the gathering darkness, strong and clear. Legolas recognized the language as Adúnaic, the tongue of the Dunedain which occasionally the rangers used among themselves. Strider spoke to all gathered, and even though Legolas could not understand what was being said he did not mind overmuch.

"Ammê, banâth, hi-akallabêth lômi, karan minal..."

Listening to Strider, Legolas watched his face in the firelight as well. Even despite his own illness, the Dunedain chieftain delivered the eulogy with both power and tenderness. It seemed the Adúnaic words flowed easily from his tongue, comforting and strengthening those gathered to listen. There was such an aura of regality to the man that Legolas could scarce believe they were not standing in a fine marble hall with vaulted ceilings and wine red banners upon the walls. Here in the middle of the wilderness was a ranger who conducted himself in the manner of a king.

"His true name you must discover for yourself."

His father's last words to him came back, murmuring like an undercurrent to Strider's flowing speech. For a moment Legolas was tempted to set his mind hard to the task, feeling that he was but a hair's breadth from connecting what he already knew to the truth of the ranger. His eyes resting once again on Grandmother's shroud though, a great feeling of calm came over the elf prince.

"Remember how to live. That is the hardest thing to do, but the very best thing as well."

It seemed that before the funeral pyre of a human woman whom he had only known for a matter of minutes, the caretakers of Legolas's life were speaking quietly to him. His father's voice, Grandmother's, Strider's, and even the memories of his mother singing to him in the night blended together into a chorus. The stars came out and twinkled overhead, bearing silent witness to the proceedings of the night.

Strider's eulogy came to a conclusion, and Andris and his mother laid torches to the foot of the funeral pyre. Slowly at first but then with more energy, the fire began to wind and leap along the dry wood. The many voices of doubt, regret and pride that Legolas had brought with him from the eastern side of the world had fallen into silence along with Strider's words. At last, his mind was quiet. Watching the shrouded figure of a friend and mentor fade behind a curtain of flame, Legolas knew what he must do now.

Nothing.

Although he had no doubt that Strider had the blood of kings in his veins, he would tell Legolas or not in his own good time. The man's true name was a boon to be earned, not a prize to be unearthed. Legolas was decided, and it lifted his heart with peace and a certain sort of contentment. Here in the wilderness he would remain, to live among these simple, noble people who called him friend. That was all he needed or now asked from life.

As the embers of the fire finally began to simmer and dim, people began to silently fade away into the night. Some made for their homes, especially the sick. Others followed the passages through the snowdrifts to the main hall, where even at a distance the sound of many voices could already be heard. The scent of cooking meat carried on the night air, and no doubt the casks of mead and ale would be opened to toast a long life now concluded.

Legolas felt a hand on his arm, and he at last emerged from the deep trance into which he had not noticed he had fallen. Shaking himself like a bear coming out of hibernation, he met Nerwen's dark eyes. Her shawl wrapped loosely about her shoulders, she stood ankle-deep in the snow without shivering.

"Come join everyone in the hall, Legolas. It will be getting cold out here soon."

Studying the tall woman's face in the dying firelight revealed a new facet to her as well. The high cheekbones and proud, broad forehead were vaguely reminiscent of Strider; she and the Dunedain chieftain must be related, even if distantly.

Glancing back one last time at the remains of Grandmother's funeral pyre, Legolas turned to follow Nerwen.

"What was her name?" he asked, realizing that the matriarch's name could not have been just 'Grandmother'.

With a small smile that softened her features in the firelight, Nerwen shook her head. "In truth I do not know. Grandmother was old even by the time I recall enough to know her, and has never gone by anything else."

Accepting that for what it was, Legolas walked side-by-side with the Dunedain woman toward the warm light of the hall. Inside there would be food, drink and song enough to last throughout the long dark of night.

oOo