[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hearpwine’s attention was wrenched from the Golden Hall of Meduseld by a sudden clamour that rose up the hill like a slow tide. Mae was already looking down from the base of the steps where they stood, her eyes bright with excitement. “Elves!” she said gaily, pointing toward the retinue of Fair Folk who came toward them, as though Hearpwine could miss them. There were about a dozen Elves, all of them mounted on the swift-footed horses of their kind. They were all of them dressed in the green and brown hues of the folk of Mirkwood – Eryn Lasgalen, as it was to be called now, Hearpwine reminded himself – and they bore upon their brows circlets of silver. They sang as they rode, and as is the way with Elvish music it seemed to whisper to the very hearts of those who heard it, wiping from before their eyes the sights of the waking world and giving rise to fair visions of green lands now long gone under the waters. Hearpwine gasped at the beauty of their singing, and he felt tears upon his face as the music cut him to his very soul.

Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.

O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

Liornung could see how the music affected the younger man so he moved closer in order to lay a steadying hand on his shoulder. Hearpwine turned a face to him that was torn between joy and sorrow. Liornung smiled, knowing already what Hearpwine would say, but knowing as well that the younger man would have to say it or break his heart. “Such singing, my friend! I, who have heard the timeless voice of the Lady Galadriel, had thought that I would never be seized by such wonder again. But I was foolish to think so! Yes, this music is naught compared to the lay She sang for me beneath the moon, but it is still as the sound of running water compared to the beast-like roars of my harp!”

Liornung laughed. “Nay, do not doubt your skill my friend. You have not heard much Elvish music in your brief life. Like a man used only to water, you cannot be expected to withstand the sudden onslaught of wine!”

Hearpwine was about to respond when Mae commanded their attention once more. She was pointing into the group of Elves and crying out wildly, “Look! There’s a Dwarf! A Dwarf rides with the Elves!”

Liornung and Hearpwine stared at this strange sight, wondering what to make of it, but the rumour that passed through the crowd soon resolved their questions. “‘Tis Gimli and his companion Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood” they heard from one quarter. “Nay,” replied a voice somewhere near at hand, “What are they doing here? I heard that they were to keep the day at Helm’s Deep.” “And that they did,” replied a third voice, “but now they are on their way to Minas Tirith to see the King and pay their respects. They are all great friends still you know…” The voices continued, but the three friends paid them no heed as they strained to catch a glimpse of the two heroes of the War. Gimli the Dwarf rode behind his friend Legolas on Arod, the horse who had borne them both through the horrors of the Paths of the Dead, and to Glory in the East. Hearpwine could, without thinking, recall at least a dozen of the songs that had been made in praise of them, and as they passed he could not help but cry out,

Swiftly the friends with oaths at their heels,
Pursued their foul foes across Rohan’s fields,
Never forsaking the friends that they loved,
They hunted the monsters who fled them like dogs!

At the sound of his clear voice rising above the cries of the crowd, the Prince Legolas turned to find the singer and smiled upon him as they passed. As the Elf’s eyes took in Hearpwine’s companions, he heard Mae sigh beside him in a way that made him feel, if he had to put a word to it, jealous.

The retinue stopped at the base of the short flight of stairs that led to the Hall, Gimli the Dwarf muttering to himself as he clambered down from Arod’s back, and they went up to the porch. There was a brief and undoubtedly very formal ceremony as they asked for admittance, but Hearpwine was too far to hear what they said. The doors swung open and they disappeared inside to be greeted by the clear ringing of trumpets and the delicate airs of harps played by skilful hands.

As the last member of the party disappeared and the door closed, the crowd that had gathered to watch the Heroes moved away to take in the other entertainment of the day. Mae was pulling on Hearpwine’s and Liornung’s hands insistently, reminding them of their promise that they should watch the contest of horsemanship. Liornung laughed and encouraged Mae to lead the way, but Hearpwine followed along behind in subdued manner. Who else from among the great would be in the Hall this day to hear his singing!