Mithrandir’s mind flitted back fifteen short years prior, to his memory of a little five year old girl he had found sitting quietly in the Great Library in a room of ancient manuscripts trying to make sense of the runes. He had heard of her, of course, the ‘Elf-Child’ of Dol Amroth. He had been intrigued to meet her; she did not disappoint. She had looked up at him as he entered undecided whether to stay or to run and hide. He had smiled at her, reassuringly he had hoped. As she watched him approach, curious, yet wholly unintimidated, he felt he saw something awaken through her eyes, something familiar, or perhaps someone. It had made him pause before he reached her. She beckoned him to sit next to her, patting her hand on the stone bench next to her and gestured at the scroll she was reading.
‘Can you tell me what these runes say, please?’ she had asked him politely.
‘They are in an ancient language you will not understand,’ he had answered not unkindly.
‘That’s alright, I just want to learn how to say the words, they look so beautiful.’ So he had read the whole manuscript to her, showing her which words matched which runes with his finger. She had run off to find another scroll in the same script and read it back to him with very few mistakes. When he looked deeply into her mind through her eyes, she had not flinched. He had sensed that there was another, far older soul looking back at him.
Mithrandir had doubted Maglor’s prophecy, he had doubted Maglor, and given his experience of wizards, Maglor mistrusted all those who became the White Council, except for Elrond. It had been Elrond who had felt the strands of the past and future at the time of Lothíriel’s birth to reveal the third prophecy. ‘Only by her sword can the walls of Sennebar fall. Her voice will be so great, the Door of Mandos will answer her call. To the North she must go to find the truth, or she will never mend. Though the sea will mark her beginning, with horses her soul will end.’
That meeting with Lothíriel in the Great Library made him question his prejudice against the Elf who had done so much evil to his own kin. He began to pay more attention to Elrond’s faith in Maglor as well as Aragorn’s devotion to him.
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The wedding of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien to Éowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan was a far larger affair than that of King Elessar to Arwen Evenstar’s ten months before. The city had still been recovering from the ravages of recent war then, and the new King and Queen had only a small circle of friends in the city, unlike Faramir, who was universally beloved and had most of the city wanting to celebrate. Similarly, Éowyn, through Gelian and Frea, had more friends in the city than Arwen, and all the lords of Rohan had descended on the Minas Tirith.
It was going to be a far less formal occasion but still with great grandeur and ceremony. Tuor and Gelian’s family stood in positions of prominence as did Lady Morwyn and her husband Lord Delwine; Lady Adriel too was there treated as family, with her two adopted children, their real heritage as Faramir’s nephew and niece still kept secret by necessity. Both Merry and Pippin wore their best uniforms of their rank as Rider of Rohan and Guard of the White Tower respectively. They were acting as ringbearers themselves, Merry for Éowyn and Pippin for Faramir. Imrahil held himself proudly beside his nephew as vows were exchanged as Éomer did beside Éowyn.
Éowyn had been overjoyed when her brother had joined Lothíriel in singing the Wedding Song in Rohirric as Éowyn walked with Merry to take her vows overseen by Aragorn before the growing sapling of the new white tree of Gondor. When the newly married couple walked to the Great Hall of Feasts to begin the festivities, Imrahil and his sons had together sung the traditional Wedding Song of Gondor in Sindarin. It had been a surprise for her, and she glowed with emotion.
There were speeches, thankfully brief, one by Imrahil announcing the next great union between Rohan and Dol Amroth. Many there had expected this to be Éomer and Lothíriel and there had been some disappointed murmurings once it was announced that the happy couple would be Frea and Amrothos, who would marry the next day. Little Idril, who had been standing next to Lothíriel when the announcement was made, was heard to pipe up, ‘Auntie Lothi, when are you going to marry King Éomer? I thought I was coming to your wedding today…’ At which Éomer rose to invite all those present to Rohan for a very special Yule celebration in Aldburg in nine months’ time, leaving few in doubt as to what other great event might be taking place on the first day of the new year 3021.
As Éowyn looked around her at the faces flushed with happiness and excitement, she could not believe that only a year before life had seemed so desolate and bleak. Now, surrounded as she was by her friends and family, sitting beside her adored and adoring husband, she could barely comprehend her bliss. A full year they had waited. She looked over to her brother knowing he was not even halfway through his own long wait. He was watching Lothíriel even now as she danced with Merry, radiating love and kindness, but Éowyn could still discern the shadow of loss around her. She fervently hoped that her dearest friend and, she did not doubt, future Queen of Rohan, could find what she was looking for, that which would lift the shadow from her. Her brother looked around to his beloved sister and smiled. She walked over to him and Éomer whisked her off to join the dances.
Darkness was on the cusp of falling but it was still not late. The celebrations were in full swing when Mithrandir, Galadriel and Elrond left to make the long climb almost to the top of the White Tower. Both Arwen and Aragorn knew why they were gathering, and they made sure they hid their unease from others but instinctively drew closer to each other. Her own fate was sealed, she had made her choice. Of the fate of Maglor and Maedhros, she remained ambivalent, notwithstanding the deep love her father had for Maglor, but for her grandmother, Galadriel, she was conflicted. In her mind she hoped that the Valar would lift the Ban imposed on her grandmother’s return to Aman as all Elves would leave Middle-earth and Galadriel wished to return home, but in her heart, though steadfast in her choice of love for Aragorn over eternity, some fear remained of her future alone without him when that time came. Suddenly raising her hand to his arm seeking comfort, he gently took her hand to his lips to reassure her as he felt her sudden change of mood.
With Éomer, Imrahil and his sons needing to remain prominent at the celebrations, Aragorn had asked Tuor to keep an eye on Lothíriel for whom, he felt, the next few hours would be even more excruciating. He was concerned therefore when he saw Tuor approaching looking worried and annoyed.
‘She’s given me the slip. Maglor taught her too well. I’m sorry, Aragorn. One of the children distracted me and when I next looked for her, she had vanished. She must have left before the Elves did. I asked Mithrandir if he’d seen her and he said to try the Library. I’ve got Hadán and Genting looking for her there now. Mithrandir was adamant that we find her and make sure she’s not alone. She won’t do anything that would upset the wedding, so I’m not concerned about her harming herself… not knowingly at least…’ His demeanour belied his words.
An hour passed and there was no sign of her. Aragorn found Tuor with Imrahil, who had noticed Lothíriel’s absence with concern and had just returned from looking for her at the Amrothian residence bringing Gallend back with him.
‘Tuor,’ he addressed his Lord Commander of Ships, ‘you said she left before the Elves?’ Tuor nodded. ‘I have an idea of where she might be. She’s not hiding, quite the opposite. Gallend, find Éomer and follow us up to the very top of the White Tower,’ he said to the three men.
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The Star of Ëarendil rose in the new night sky, its light beaming beyond all others. As the five men raced up the Tower steps, passing the secret room in which the Palantir of Minas Tirith, the Anor-stone, was housed and where the other three stones had been taken, they heard her. She was singing to Ëarendil so he would notice her. The Elves and Wizard in the secret room below also took note and taking the smallest Palantir with him, Mithrandir bid Elrond and Galadriel to follow him. Stepping out onto the very top of the Tower, open to the oncoming night sky, they were bathed in the magical light of the Silmaril which had been given to Ëarendil, Elrond’s father and ancestor of Aragorn, Tuor and Lothíriel through Elrond’s twin brother Elros.
She was oblivious to their presence; focused only on the star and her song of love to Maglor. She had not known that the Elves and Mithrandir had been in the room below, she had just wanted to be as close to Maglor as she could be and the Tower of Ecthelion, the White Tower of Gondor, was almost as tall as the mountains behind. All in Minas Tirith stopped whatever they were doing to listen to the song that was filtering through the whole city and beyond, magnified as it was by the mountains behind. Many came out onto the streets to listen in wonder and witness the light of the stars illuminate the topmost turret of the White Tower. News came later from as far as Ithilien that a song of unsurpassed beauty had been heard as the night sky had burst into light.
Aragorn and Elrond both recognised the song. It was Maglor’s song he sang in honour of his love for his wife. Rarely had they heard it as it left him too sad, yet it was one of the most beautiful songs he had ever composed. They both came to stand next to her to join her in the melody, lending richer, deeper tones to the harmony, and power.
For it was a song of the purest, most selfless love, the kind of love that gave strength to others, and stirred hope to the lost that they too could be worthy of such love. It filled the hearts of those listening and united them in the ecstasy of the song. Lothíriel ended the song on a note of such purity and intensity that it seemed that suddenly the whole night sky had burst into light, her voice having cracked open the Door of Mandos itself.
As the note dwindled slowly into the void, those watching with the keenest eyes could discern two shooting stars travelling together towards the Star of Ëarendil, Elrond moved forward in amazement and hope. He turned to Mithrandir, ‘Maedhros too?’
Mithrandir, leaning on his staff, simply looked upwards with a compassionate smile and gave the barest of nods. Aragorn gazed upon the rapidly moving stars in great emotion, his hand still resting on Lothíriel’s shoulder. He removed it as Tuor came to her other side and Éomer came behind her and put his arms around her to steady her. Tears were streaming down her face. Imrahil beheld his daughter in awe that he had sired such a rare gift to the race of Men. She held out her hand to her uncle who took it and kissed it. He had loved Maglor too as had Gallend, who stood open-mouthed beside his new friend.
As the two shooting stars passed the Star of Ëarendil, it seemed to those below that the light of the stars turned towards the Tower of Minas Tirith and shone even more brightly before passing the rim of the world, enveloping the Tower and the city in ordinary darkness. They all stood for a while in silence until Mithrandir made it subtly clear that he wanted to be left alone with Lothíriel. Led by Galadriel who had been the first to understand his command, they slowly began to descend and return to the wedding celebrations, which had taken on an atmosphere of renewed intensity.
‘Have they really been forgiven, Mithrandir? Or was that the Silmarils alone returning to Valinor?’ she asked hesitantly, genuinely unsure of the answer. He observed her fondly, remembering well the little girl he had caught reading the ancient texts in seclusion in the Great Library, hiding away from the torments of Denethor.
‘He is back in Aman and reunited with Irielloth, and with his brother, thanks to you,’ he said in measured tones. She breathed deeply in such emotion that her next breath was more of a sob.
‘And the Lady Galadriel?’ she enquired, holding her breath.
‘The ban has been lifted,’ he replied calmly.
‘The Valar have been most generous,’ she said with feeling. ‘I meant what I said, Mithrandir, every word. If even the Maiar and the Elves can succumb to such evil, what hope would we Men have?’
‘They agreed. Alatar did not even need to speak, although he did, most eloquently. And the Elves in Aman also wanted to heal the rift and bathe in the light of the Silmarils once more,’ he explained.
‘But they could have had the Silmarils back without Maglor and Maedhros. That was my greatest fear. I don’t know about Maedhros, but Maglor would have willingly accepted that in repentance,’ she continued.
‘The Valar knew that, which is why they were both forgiven. The Oath of Fëanor was broken only because the brothers chose to die as they gave them up to the Valar. Their hatred of their actions and their repentance of their deeds was deemed rightly to be genuine. As for Galadriel, she was offered the Ring of Power, freely, by Frodo and in refusing it, she proved herself worthy of their forgiveness.’
He paused for a while. ‘Your song, it really did force the Door of Mandos to open before Mandos himself decreed it,’ he said still somewhat bemused. She looked at him uncertainly. ‘Did Maglor never tell you of the third prophecy?’ he asked.
‘Well yes, about Sennebar, the North and the stupid one which meant Father wouldn’t let me learn to ride, although I must say, it does seem to have been very accurate, if not in the way everyone thought! But he never mentioned the Door of Mandos,’ she answered. Mithrandir merely smiled.
‘I fear the North may hold more perils for you than anyone wants, Lothíriel,’ he said suddenly. ‘Do not wander off on your own, at any time. Please heed my warning. I do not give it lightly.’ She had taken a step back at the abruptness of the change in his voice.
She became serious. ‘I will not willingly go anywhere without the guards we have discussed, Mithrandir. I promise. I have had to promise Éomer, my father, Tuor, Éowyn, Faramir, Hadán, Genting, each of my brothers, Gimli, Aragorn, well you understand,’ she smiled.
‘I feel a great weight has been lifted from me, Mithrandir,’ she said regaining her natural gaiety. ‘I also suspect that my father is waiting for me to be present to close the festivities and allow Faramir and Éowyn to finally be together. I will see you again before you depart, won’t I, Mithrandir? Will you be in the North at all while I am there?’
He took her hand in his and patted it warmly. ‘You will see me soon enough, my dear.’
Imrahil asked Lothíriel if she would sing the traditional song of love which heralded the departure of the newlyweds to the beginning of their life together. Lothíriel knew the song, of course, but had never been able to sing it at any wedding as she had usually fled the celebrations well before this point in the evening. Knowing that her own love would be awaiting her soon enough in their bed, she was able to pour all her love and emotion into the song for Faramir and Éowyn, which became even more poignant when Éomer joined her in singing a deep richly toned descant intertwining so beautifully with her singing, and they were gone, into Steward’s quarters within the Citadel.
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Gallend returned to their lodgings with Hadán and Genting, having left Assa in charge of the prisoner. They had not learned much. She had stayed throughout, almost invisible in a corner, saying nothing. When Imrahil had arrived seeking Lothíriel, he had been only too pleased to leave with him. Not that it had been awkward with Assa, at least it had not been for him. He had smiled gently at her the next morning at their lodgings as they had been called down by one of the Swan Knights and escorted to the Amrothian residence, and he had treated her no differently throughout the questioning.
He did not know what to expect that night as he prepared for bed as usual, with the exception of taking out the cut Calanthum flower from Erchirion’s careful wrapping. He lay it on the bed next to him and forced his mind to empty itself of all hope that he might be disturbed, and eventually he fell asleep. When he woke the next morning and turned on his side, he was greatly relieved to see that the flower had gone.
Amrothos’s wedding to Frea the next day was a riotous affair, much more informal with only close friends and family present, as they had wanted. After falling into a somewhat drunken slumber after the wedding Gallend had woken during the night to find Assa’s naked body sleeping beside him her back turned to him. The flower had been carefully placed in the small vase he had left out for her. He did not try to wake her. He gently kissed her on the back of her neck and moved slightly closer to her. In the morning when he woke, later than he had wanted, the flower had been put back beside him. He knew they had understood each other. He would sleep with the flower or with her, he wanted no one else, but it would be her choice.