If she had known that she would end up saving the chieftain of the Dunedain's butt and ended up living with his people, Thennil was sure what she would have merely been wandering around Middle Earth looking for something to occupy her time till she had felt that she was civil enough to be among people again.
It had been totally random when she stumbled upon a group of men, women, and children traveling that were being attacked by a large herd of orcs. She had instantly snapped into defensive mode and dove into the fight, not caring that she didn't even know who the people had been. There had been many men who had fought, but it was the tall, dark haired, man who seemed to shine with an inner light that had caught her attention. He stood alone, sword raised and flashing, fighting off six orcs that towered over even his tall height. She could tell that he was becoming weary, and was not aware of his surroundings. The orcs had noticed his slowness too, and had begun to circle around him, making him turn to watch each of them for a second. She had known that they would show him no mercy, and leaping over the fallen bodies of the orcs that she had slain, had sprinted through the malay, ducking and weaving around the swinging weapons of both sides. With a great battle cry she had flung herself in amongst the group that had nearly overpowered the man, hair splayed out, flashing in the sunlight like a ball of raging fire. Her sword cleaved the orcs like a knife through butter, smooth and clean, but they had seemed to never end. It was in that moment that she saw an orc with a twisted face and missing half of a nose sneaking up behind the man, blade raised to bring the killing blow. Within a moment, she had withdrawn one of her daggers and tossed it with the precision, embedding it deep within the beast's forehead; saving the man.
It was in that moment that everything slowed down to normal speed and the enemy had been vanquished. Everyone had paused to regain their breath, some closing their eyes, but others had turned their faces towards the being that had flown in like a protective mother bird against a large hawk or eagle, willing to give her life. The dark-haired man had risen from his place kneeling next to a comrade and bowed before her. She in turn had bowed deeply before asking who he was.
He was Arahad, chieftain of the Dunedain. It had been surprising how quickly they had gotten along. He had introduced her to his wife, son Aragost, and two daughters, then everyone had started thanking her for what she had done. Overwhelmed she had brushed off their thanks and told them it was an honor for her to come to their aid. Ignoring her protests, they had made her join them in their journey to one of the many settlements of their people that were scattered throughout the north. And she had.
For many years, she sat on Arahad's council, helping him protect his people, and encouraging him. Though they became good friends, it was his son that she got to know and teach. Aragost had begged her to teach him how to fight like she did, and she jumped at the opportunity. During many of their sparring matches they would speak of the differences between their cultures and argue over the way the advances of the elves could be applied to the daily lives of his people. He was immensely fascinated by her people's knowledge of healing, asking many questions, storing the answers and information up in his brilliant mind. He kept himself so very busy that there never seemed to be a moment of rest for himself unless forced to by herself or his wife. Thennil could not understand why he was so stubborn, kept himself so insanely busy, but she vowed that one day she would find out his reason.
T.A. 2496
"Seriously, Aragost, why are you pushing yourself so hard? I know that you want to please your father, but is it too much for you to slow down and take a break? Why must you continually think up things to do? What are you keeping yourself from thinking of that worries you so much?" Thennil asked one early morning as they sat around one of the ranger fires miles away from the settlement.
She had watched him much over the passing years and saw the changes that he had made in his life. It had worried her immensely, the time that he was spending away from his wife, who loved him dearly and begged him to remain home longer. She had reprimanded him gently time and again like a mother that his wife needed him and that it was his duty to take care of her.
He sighed, pulling at the hair like his father did when he was thinking of something that pained him.
"Spit it out, I have watched to many people bottle up their worries to have them explode in front of a large group of people and regret it. I will not judge you, have a little faith," she encouraged while being firm.
"I-uhh- where to start..."
"There is always a root to our fears, so that's a wonderful place to begin."
He stood and began to pace around the fire, flicking his eyes to her every few moments, uncertain of how to proceed. He pulled at a lock of his hair again, then wrung his hands nervously. She waited from her seat upon the ground, knowing that eventually he would tell her what was bothering him. His pacing went on for many more minutes; the fire was slowly dying, turning to glowing red embers as she waited.
Finally, he stopped, and facing away from her murmured, "I fear that I shall never have a son, nor any children at all."
She waited for him to continue, knowing that he needed to say everything within his own time.
"Gwendolin and I think that she is barren, we have tried for so long to have a child, but have no one to show for it. We have dreamed of the many feet running across our floors in the night, or playing with them in the grass outside our cottage. I have begged the Valar to bless us with any child that they see fit, but they have not answered, what must I do? I have done everything that I can, and so has my Gwen. She has seen so many midwives and healers asking if there is some cure. I can't bear to see her sad eyes when she sees me each time I enter the door of our cottage," He had started to weep as he had let his heart speak.
"I have often wondered if it is I who am the one to blame, if it was something that I did, taking an innocent life or some such thing that I cannot remember-
"NO! No Aragost, it is not your fault by any means!" she cried, jumping to her feet and putting an arm on his shoulder, "And neither is it Gwen's, you have done nothing wrong, you have more mercy and grace than any man that I have met up to this point in my long life, do not drag yourself down by your words."
He looked up into her face, his own marked by the tears that had made their journey down to his beard, "Then why have we not been blessed with a child? We have been married for years, why?"
"I don't know why you have not been blessed with the gift of a child up to this point," she whispered, eyes glazing over, her skin seemed to a glittering golden light as the sun filtered through the tree, "A child shall be born to you, and he will be your pride and joy, this I know. Take heart, Little One, hope is still there, you just have to believe."
It was as if the whole forest knew that something wonderful had happened as the birds started to sing their songs loud and beautiful, rejoicing. Aragost looked upon the face of his friend in awe, having never seen her take on such an angelic glow as she did now. His tears had ceased, and hope had sparked within his heart. Perhaps his dream was not so far out of his reach.
"I pray that your words are true, the hope that they give me is small, but I will trust you, mellonin," he whispered, gripping the hand she had placed on his shoulder tightly.
Shaking herself from the strange trance that had overtaken her, she replied, "As do I, as do I."
Months passed, and though it was like a minute of time to an elf, Thennil felt it. She had seen the hope bloom in the hearts of her friends more and more as they believed that someday, wither it was in the present or in the future, that they would have a child, a son. And so, it was that she found herself seated outside the cottage one summer evening, watching the sun fade over the horizon, waiting for a noise from the inside of the occupants within. Aragost paced a long circle in the grass outside his home, praying that the Valar would have mercy on his wife. They had been waiting for hours, and the cries and moans of Gwen had started to grate on Aragost's resolve and confidence.
"What is taking so long?" he whispered, thinking that it was for his ears only.
"Patience, my friend, it is your first, and they normally take the longest to arrive," she chuckled, knowing that her own father had said something akin to a young guard about his wife when he had asked the same question.
"Patience? How can I be patient when my wife who is in there suffering and I can do nothing about it?" He questioned, staring her down.
"Yes, good things come to those who wait," she smirked, crossing her arms and leaning back against the cottage wall.
This silenced him; he turned back and began to pace again before pausing and then turning back to walked over the ground he had covered. His face was emotionless to any passer-byer, but she could read the range of emotions through his eyes, fear, joy, pride, worry, and most of all hope.
Just as the last rays of sunshine were flickering over the valley, the house grew deathly silent. Hearing no noise, Aragost turned from his pacing, an expression of all out panic on his features, and rushed towards the door of the cottage. Leaping from her seat, she caught him before he could go barging in, having to almost wrestle him to the ground as he fought her. Tears were flooding down his face, he feared that the worst had happened.
"Peace, mellonin."
"How can you say that? She-she's- he could not even finish the sentence, all the fight leaving his body as he leaned heavily against her. She saw his despair, and though she did not show it, she was smiling internally. She could hear things that he could not.
It was when he had fallen on his knees to the ground that a shrill, piercing wail burst forth from within the cottage accompanied by the sound of laughter from the women. Aragost froze, barily believing the sounds that he heard, eyes glued to the door, holding his breath. Grabbing him by the arm she yanked him up from the ground, and helped him stand to his feet. He was nearly shaking when the door finally opened, revealing one of the midwives, Mara, and a small bundle of cloth. She smiled and slowly made her way to the man before gently laying the infant in the waiting arms of his father.
The look of absolute awe that came over the face of her friend made Thennil smile sadly, remembering the times that she had done something alike to it with her three siblings. It was an amazing thing that something so small, so delicate, so fragile could be made by two people who loved one another deeply. As Aragost cradled his small son, whispering words of praise in the little ear, she felt a deep pain in her heart, one that she knew would never be eased in this world. Slowly she began to back away from the duo, making sure that she made no noise. It felt like she was intruding on a very private moment, one that should not include her.
Aragost looked up from his child, glimpsing her about to turn away, and called out excitedly, "Come, Thennil, let me introduce to you my son!"
Knowing that it would be extremely rude to refuse, she slowly made her way up to the place where she had been sitting. She seated herself on the bench she had been occupying and opened her arms to take the babe. As he was passed into her arms, Aragost smiled down at the face of his son, almost bursting with pride as his son snuggled closer before opening his eyes.
The inaudible gasp that she let out at the look in the child's eyes shocked her. It was as if he knew who she was, such was the familiarity that filled his gaze. He reached up and snagged a piece of her copper hair, pulling on it. She smiled sadly, reaching with one hand and smoothing the tuft of hair that stuck up on his dainty head.
"What shall you call him?"
"His name shall be Aravorn, son of Aragost, of the line of house of Isildur."
"May every sunrise hold more promise, and every sunset hold more peace, and may the stars shine on the paths that you take, Forn Elenion," she spoke the blessing over the child. (North Star).
Many nights later found her in the possession of the small child, his parents being exhausted by the lack of sleep. She had told him stories of his ancestors, the great deeds that they had accomplished, but she also told of their failures, reminding him that not all men are strong enough to endure temptation. He listened silently, staring up at the stars in the sky when she told of her people and the fascination that they had with the stars, how much they wished that they could walk among them. As she watched the planets dance over the mountains, she began to rock the child in her arms a song began to be birthed as she looked over the lands, cradling him against her chest:
Land of bear and land of eagle
Land that gave us birth and blessing
Land that called us ever homewards
We will go home across the mountains
We will go home, we will go home
We will go home across the mountains
We will go home, we will go home
We will go home across the mountains
Land of freedom land of heroes
Land that gave us hope and memories
Hear our singing hear our longing
We will go home across the mountains
Someday our savior will come
Someday he'll come on the ships of the sea
Someday he'll stand at our head
Someday he'll come
Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where is the wise Knight to fight the rising odds?
Someday, our King will come
When the land is there before us
We have gone home across the mountains
We will go home, we will go home
We will go home across the mountains
Our King will lead us home
Home across the mountains in a bright shining splendor
Our King Will lead us home!
T.A. 2508
"Your it, Forn Elenion!" She laughed, dancing away from the eleven-year-old boy after tapping him on the shoulder.
"Not fair, Thennil!" the boy shouted, swiveling on his feet to run after her.
She teased him, running slow enough that he could catch up, but speeding up when he was a hairs-breath away from her. Round and round they went throughout the village, and around the cottages, dodging people and animals in their quest to escape and catch. The boy stumbled over a trio of smaller boys and girls, who they themselves were running to avoid him. They squealed and shouted joyfully in the fall weather, bringing smiles to all whom they passed.
"Aravorn, I'm going to get you!" the young girl called, weaving through the crowd after the boy.
"Not a chance, Lydia, I'm too fast!" He shouted, making his way towards the cottage as she caught up to him.
Thennil smirked, and stuck a foot out, tripping the young lad and causing the bunch of children to topple over one another into a pile at her feet. The older boy, Aravorn, glared up at her from the bottom of the pile, squirming to try and get out from under the wiggling arms and legs that had gotten tangled. She smiled cheekily and made her way to the spot beside his mother who was mending yet another pair of her son's trousers.
Gwen chuckled, elbowing her old friend, "You are so good with the children, it's a wonder that you don't have any of your own!"
The joy that had been bubbling up in her eyes seemed to evaporate almost instantly, but she hid it from the woman with a shrug, "It takes two to make one, so that isn't going to be happening any time soon."
"Any why ever not? You're a beautiful young elf, surely some young ellon around your age would love to have you as his wife."
"Nay my friend, they are looking for someone who will sit mildly by and mend their clothes and cook their dinner. They don't want someone that will risk their life out on the field of battle, it is not how it works among my people," she shook her head, rolling her shoulders.
"Well then, the young men need some sense knocked into their heads, who wouldn't want someone that could protect their back on the field?" Gwen tisked, tying a knot in the mending that she had finished.
"It's not just the fighting, they want someone who is innocent-
"Thennil- Gwen gasped, giving her a reprimanding look- how could you, and you being the daughter of a lord!"
Her jaw nearly hit the ground, "No! No! That's not what I meant at all I was talking about innocent as in no scars, no battle wounds, and the like."
Gwen fanned her face, closing her eyes with relief, "I'm glad that it isn't that, the way you used innocent totally construed what I thought you were saying."
"Nay my friend, I am afraid that the males of my race do not find satisfaction in scars in their women, whereas your people see them as a sign of strength and reverence, mine do not. Being blind in one eye doesn't help much either," she chuckled mirthlessly.
Gwen spoke no more, seeing the pain in her friend's eyes, the longing. If only Thennil could see how worthy she was, how beautiful even with her scars, then she might have been willing to try love.
So the song/songs that I used to create the one Thennil sings are: Song of the Exile-from the movie King Arthur, A Hero Comes Home-from the movie Beowulf, and Holding on for a Hero-by Bonnie Taylor. The music that I imagine it being sung to is Song of the Exile. I do not own any of the songs. Hope you all enjoy!
Please review!
Robin