Laer o Faen

Man Na Dholen

Second Age of Middle Earth – 1200-1201

Man hi an Endórë?

A/N – in order to facilitate greater cohesion in the progress of the story, some events in the have been 'adjusted' in terms of 'when' they are placed in the timeline of Middle Earth for the purposes of this fiction.

Spring had given way to a summer that was brooding and sultry, which seemed to Galion to be fitting, as he finally came within sight – and more importantly the sea breezes – of Lindon.

The weeks following Thranduil's betrothal to Válinsillúle had been a near unbearable mix of formal receptions, strategic negotiations and, just before his departure from Greenwood to deliver the letters Thranduil had entrusted to him, the beginning of a northerly migration to the newly built fortifications nestled in the lea of Emyn Duir.

The arguments between Thranduil and his father continued almost unabated, and the prince became more and more withdrawn, unyielding and severe. More and more often he would choose to lead ever more dangerous patrols in defense of his father's woodland subjects, and while it garnered him greater and greater loyalty from among their people, it misgave Galion's heart to see Thranduil so intent on placing himself in harm's way.

Movement: riders coming his way snapped Galion out of his morose thoughts, and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his blade. He urged his horse cautiously forward, maintaining his attitude of watchful awareness, sure to keep his colors visible to announce his allegiance, at least until he recognized the banner that flew at the head of the small group of horsemen. Then approaching more openly he raised his hand in greeting.

"Ai, Rechyn o i daur!" he called out to them, as they wheeled to a halt before him.

"Mae Govannen, Edhel o Eryn Galen," one among them – a voice he recognized – answered, and the ranks shifted to reveal the speaker to Galion's eyes. The hard expression on the face of the other elf faded as they reached close enough to each other to clasp forearms in a more intimate greeting, and Elrond, for so the other Elf was, said, "Too long have your people been absent from Lindon's halls."

"The months have been too long indeed," he said, melancholy weighing his voice heavy with meaning.

Elrond nodded, and as if reading the meaning, yet unspoken, he turned to the captain of the patrol, and instructed, "Continue with your watch. I will return to Lindon with Galion of Greenwood and bring his Lord's greeting before Gil-Galad."

The Captain of the watch nodded obedience, and in a clear voice ordered, "Noro amrûn!"

As one the host of riders turned, and picking up speed with each hoof beat, patrolled onward away from the descending sun.

Elrond sighed, and shifted his horse to ride beside Galion.

"Tell me, my friend, how fares your Prince?" he asked softly.

"Lord Elrond," he began in answer, but Elrond held up his hand.

"Name me not Lord, for I am but a—"

"My Prince names you Lord, Elrond," he argued softly. "And to answer your question, I would a thousand battles had kept him from his homeland this spring past. He is not as once he was."

"The rumors—"

"Are true, as well you know, my Lord," he said, and reaching within his tunic, he pulled out the first of the letters to hand it over into Elrond's waiting hand. "He was recalled to Greenwood by his father to cement the union of Eryn Galen and Cuivienen; a political marriage."