Jaynaé Marie

Chapter XXII: (EXT) The Death of Súlelenth (Pt. III)

“I stood with Fëaluin and Súriar inside my study when Eldôr, Elranduil and Ardôr entered.

“Where is Êlenuil,” I asked without looking at them.

“He comes along with his brother,” Ardôr said quietly.

No sooner than he spoke, Êlenuil and his brother Elendôr entered with Tarthôn, Orísil, Aruilos, Nimlos and Aramoth.

“Everyone is present, Thranduil,” Fëaluin whispered.

Nodding, I glanced around the room at the princes of the realm. They stood as statues with stoic gazes on their faces.

“Êlenuil,” I said sharply. “Come forward.”

He slowly stepped forward, quivering in fear.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said softly.

“First born of Ardôr, son of Elranduil, son of Eldôr,” I began. “Do you know who you are?”

“I am a Prince of the Woodland Realm,” he answered.

“True enough, but you are far more. You are the father to Nenduîl Nárisil.”

“Yes, I know,” he answered.

“Do you know what he is,” I asked.

“He is a peredhel as his sister.”

I smiled at him as he looked at his father.

“I wish that were true, Êlenuil,” I answered. “That would at least give him a choice in this world.”

“I do not understand,” he said.

“There are few elves in this world such as you and your brother. Fewer still born heirs to a throne. None with a son such as your own.”

“How do you, mean,” he asked.

Ardôr tried to come forward, but Elranduil held him back.

“Father,” he asked. “What is he saying?”

“You were the first born of the Eldar with the blood of the Vanyar, the Noldo and the Teleri—of the Eldalië. The Everstar. Your son is Nenduîl Nárisil Êlenuilion. Born more elf than mortal for though the mother of both of your children was human, she still carried the blood of her elven ancestors. Should you choose to leave him and his sister in my care, he will become the last heir of this Nenduîl kingdom in your stead.”

It was a silence that could not be broken—a revelation that would forever be known.

“I have no words to say,” Êlenuil whispered. “What can I say?”

“I would prefer you would say you will remain here for your children,” I answered. “But that is something you much decide alone.”

“I cannot stay here,” he said. “Not without Súlelenth. The pain is far too great.” I sighed deeply and turned to Fëaluin.

“Everyone may take their leave,” he said. “All but Êlenuil. His Majesty would like a word with you.”

When we were alone, I released my anger relentlessly.

“Even now, you would choose your sadness over your children,” I demanded. “What sort of father are you? You would abandon them by putting your own needs before theirs? And tell me, what father tells his children they should have never been born?”

“I would never say such a thing,” Êlenuil answered. “Why would I say that to my children? I love them.”

“Tárimë told me you have said this for as long as she could remember. I would not doubt the word of a child. What reason would there be for them to speak an untruth?”

Êlenuil looked concern—his grief giving way to worry. It was then I knew truly loved his children.

“I was speaking to Súlelenth,” he said. “Tárimë must have heard me repeat something Haldúir once said to their mother after he had learned of their birth. I was angry he would say such a thing to his daughter. Whenever she wished to see her parents, I forbad her from going. It was in those moments I would remind her of what her father’s words. My children must have thought I felt that way. They are the best of me, Thranduil. I loved them from the first time I saw them after their birth. I have lost my wife now my children believe that I never loved them. You must think me horrible.”

“I do not think you horrible,” I said. “I know your grief all too well. I cannot tell you it will ever go away. It never will. But Súlelenth gave you part of her in your children and that should be reason enough to stay.”

“It is reason enough to live, but not to stay,” he answered. “You are stronger than anyone in this world—elf or man. To see all you have seen and all that you have lost yet you only grow stronger. I wish my children to learn that from you because I cannot teach them what I do not have.”

“You will tell them what you have told me,” I said. “That you love them. You should not leave them believing they are the cause for your choice. I will honor your wish for me to care for them, but I will not tell them what is your responsibility.”

“I will, Thranduil,” he said smiling. “I cannot leave my children believing that I do not love them.”

I could not help but think back to when Árendil gave her infant son to me. Thinking about all that had happened in my life to this moment, I realized that things were changing—the world, my kingdom and my own family.

“You may take your leave,” I said. “The children are in their chambers with your mother.”

He bowed and left my study. I went to my balcony and listened to the roar of the falls. I knew a great war was coming and I had to remain on my throne for my people and to be here when Legolas returned to me.

“His Majesty his thinking,” I heard Êlúriel say.

I turned around to see her standing before me beautiful as always.

“Yes? What is it?”

“We have a guest,” she said. “She said it was important.”

“Show her in,” I said thinking was Ninyáre wanting to speak with me about her husband.

It was Arímë dressed in a pale green gown, her long golden hair falling around her.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “I know it is late, but Haldúir and I will leave tomorrow and I may not have another moment to speak with you.”

“You may,” I said as she walked over to me.

“I met Eärluin,” she said. “She reminds me of Súlelenth at that age.”

“She is something,” I answered. “Nenduîl and Tárimë told me about their names, Arímë. Súlelenth could never have known about Silme and Nárisil.”

“She learned it from me,” she said. “When I learned of Êlúriel’s love for you, I would tell her about it at night before she went to sleep. She thought it was the most beautiful story ever told.”

“It is the most beautiful story ever lived,” I answered. “Still how would you have come by it?”

“I told her,” Êlúriel said quietly.

“My cousin is very lucky,” she said smiling. “A love such as yours is rare.”

“You know love, Arímë,” I said. “You gave up forever for it, did you not?”

“I did,” she said. “I do not regret it, but before I met Haldúir, all I had were letters from Êlúriel telling me all about you. I was envious, I must admit. I could only imagine what you looked like. From what she said, her words hardly do you justice.”

“Êlúriel, like my mother, tends to exaggerate,” I said looking at my wife pretending she had not heard a word.

“If it were exaggeration, then what I expected to see and what I have seen are at odds with one another for you are far more than what you call exaggeration.”

“You flatter me,” I said. “I only wish my wife had told me what to expect when I saw you.”

“I am far less beautiful than Êlúriel,” she said. “Even Nenloth was envious. But if you had known her mother, you would know where her beauty came from.”

“Her father said as much,” I said. “I find you rather beautiful. Haldúir has told you this many times I am sure.”

“He did once,” she said thinking. “A long time ago. When Súlelenth found love with Êlenuil, he seemed to change. I believe it was my fault for speaking of my past and the love my father had for my mother. As a mortal, he cannot understand how long I lived. When Súlelenth was born, he did not want her to know anything of my past, but I could not keep it from her. It would be like denying who I was and where she came from. He has since changed. He adores Nenduîl, Tárimë and Eärluin now.”

“He does not know what they are,” Êlúriel said. “If he knew, it would anger him.”

“What are they,” she asked. “Are they not as I was?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Their father carries the bloodline of the Eldalië. They are more elf than mortal. They will never have the choice of others as they are.”

“I am glad for them,” she said. “I want what is left of my people to go on to Aman where I know Nendúril has gone. He will be happy to know a part of Gildúr lives on. I am glad a part of me will live on in them.”

“Uncle,” Êlúriel whispered.

“When will you leave tomorrow,” I asked.

“At sunrise,” she answered. “Nimlos and Nenloth will ride with us to Dale.”

“Very good,” I said. “I wish you a safe journey.”

“Êlúriel,” she began.

“Yes,” she answered.

“I wish I had been here for you,” she began.

“You were in always in my heart,” Êlúriel said. “That I am sure.”

She ran to Arímë and they embraced each other.

“I will miss you,” she said. “But you know that already.”

“I know,” Êlúriel said. “And I will miss you.”

She then turned to me.

“Namárië, Thranduil, aranon od Eryn Galen.”

She left us alone and it would be the last time we saw Arímë or Haldúir again.”––TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil (EXT. VER.) by J. Marie Miller 12-13-17

Êlenuil finds out who he is and what his children are and Arímë says goodbye to her cousin Êlúriel and King Thranduil for the last time. 😢

Chapter XXII (EXT): The Death of Súlelenth (Part I)

“Legolas was gone—the son I tried desperately to protect from the world was now in that world vowing to save it from the shadow that had returned. I spent the days after his departure tortured with thoughts of losing him in many ways. It was not until Tarthôn and Aruilos returned from Rivendell safely did I find peace.

As I stood with Êlúriel, Aruilos’ wife Nimlúin, Ëariâth and Aradúlin, I began to notice how time had passed—Aradúlin held her youngest child Auríel, a spritely child with the darkest hair and grey eyes.

My household had grown but none would come from me. Legolas had left Mîráre behind and she became so distraught, her sister Ninyáre could not console her. In sadness, she left Mirkwood with her mother, Tárwen for Mithlond. As I was my father’s only heir, Legolas was mine but I knew he would never sit on the throne.

“Have you seen Súlelenth,” Aradúlin asked. “I have not seen her for two days, nor have I seen Êlenuil. What do I tell Nenduîl and Tárimë?”

“They went to see her family in Dale,” Ëariâth answered. “They should return before long. They have Eärluin and their cousins to keep them company.”

Êlúriel’s face seemed disturbed by those words, but said nothing—her eyes unmoved westward waiting patiently. Êlenuil and Súlelenth had gotten my blessing to leave.

Once we saw Tarthôn and Aruilos riding toward us with Elenadar and Elenatar, the mood brightened. As stable hands came for the horses, his wife and daughter met Tarthôn. Aruilos approached me and bowed as Nimlúin went to him.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “All is well. Elrond sends his gratitude.”

“How was it there,” I asked. “Was it as beautiful as they say?”

“Very much so,” he said. “We were fortunate to have met Elrohir and Elladan. You can imagine the trouble with having Elenadar and Elenadar present. I would think having two sets of twins did not sit well with Erestor or Lindir.”

“Well, then,” I said smiling. “It was best they left their sons with us. Four pairs would have driven them mad. Nimlos waits for you in the study.”

He smiled and bowed as he made his way into the palace with his wife, sister and mother.

“What of Legolas,” Êlúriel asked. “What he received well?”

“Yes, Nana,” Tarthôn said. “He took to chatting straight away as always.”

Tarthôn came to me quietly and stood before me, looking down.

“What is the matter, Tarthôn,” I asked. “Do you miss Legolas already?”

“I do,” he said. “But I worry how you will do without him here, Ada.”

“I will do as well as I can,” I said. “But you are still here and we will greet him together when he returns.”

He looked up and smiled. Even now, so many years after he was left in my care, he felt I did not love him as much as Legolas. Unlike Orísil, he never quite felt a part of the family.

“Tarthôn,” I began. “Did you by chance see Elrond’s daughter while you were there?”

“Yes,” he answered. “As beautiful as it has been said. She is very much taken with Aragorn. I did not see him until the day we were to leave. There had come another man and one they call Gandalf and one of the dwarves that had come here before.”

We started into the palace through the gates. I was curious about the dwarves—I remembered the ones I had met after the battle of Dale and had wondered about them.

“Tell me more,” I said. “I am intrigued.”

“I believe his name was Glóin,” he said. “I recall he was there with his son Gimli. But there was a rather old creature there. He was there when we had arrived. He seemed rather fond of looking at Legolas from a distance as to have known him.”

“I shall see you later,” Êlúriel said, kissing Tarthôn’s cheek and taking her leaves as we entered my study where the entire council was in attendance.

“Aruilos, what was the name of that creature,” Tarthôn asked. “I seemed to have forgotten.”

“You mean the Hobbit,” he answered. “His name was Bilbo Baggins from the Shire.”

I stopped and found myself smiling—thinking about my little friend. To know he was still alive made me happy, though I wondered why he was so far from his home.

“As long as Legolas made it safely to Rivendell,” Fëaluin said. “That is what matters.”

“Yes, it is,” Ardôr said sternly. “I am happy for my dear cousin, Fëaluin. But it has been two days and I have not heard from my son. Perhaps we should have sent with him some protection. He is, after all, a Prince of the Realm.”

“You could have gone with him,” Eldôr said. “Or sent Elendôr along with him. The distance is not far.”

“He is fine, Ada,” Elendôr said. “He just worries about Súlelenth.“

“Perhaps but they are among Men,” Ardôr sighed. “I am sure they would do a great deal more to my son than would the Elves in Rivendell.”

“We have never had issue with Dale or Esgaroth,” Elranduil said. “You are making far too much of this.”

“He is my son, Ada,” he said. “I have every right to make anything of this that I please.”

“You worry far too much, Ardôr,” I said. “Your son is of age. He has returned many times and he will again.”

“I know,” he said. “It is Súlelenth. She grows weaker.”

Aramír and Aramoth whispered to Nimlos as Orísil entered the room.

“They have returned, brother,” he said to Ardôr.

We walked out into the hall is where we saw Êlenuil and Súlelenth approaching. She smiled at me but I could see she was not well.

“Súlelenth, you do not look well,” I said.

“He is right,” Êlenuil said, touching her face. “You are rather warm.”

“I am fine, Êlenuil,” she said. “I want to see my children.”

Those were the last words she would say outside of her chambers. She collapsed into Êlenuil’s arms.

“Súlelenth,” he cried loudly, bringing everyone out of the study.

“Send for Nenloth and Nimlúin,” Fëaluin said. “Nimlos, help Êlenuil take her to her room. Elranduil, find Linurial. She is with Ardúin.”

I could not move—my thoughts were frozen.

“Do not worry, Thranduil,” Elranduil said. “Perhaps she is just be exhausted from traveling.”

“I’ll go after Nana,” I heard Tarthôn say to me as he disappeared in the swirling activity of the court.

“Send for her family,” Eldôr told Elendôr. “Take your brother with you.”

“And Elenadar and Elenatar,” Fëaluin added. “Night is falling and you will need to return before sunrise.”

“I will see to Nenduîl, Tárimë and Eärluin,” Orísil said. He turned to Ardôr. “You should do as much, Brother. Should something happen to their mother, your words will not be forgotten by those that heard them.”

Ardôr looked at me then slowly followed Orísil away.

I left for my chambers—I feared what I might learn of Súlelenth’s condition. As I entered, I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling above. What seemed to me a lifetime was no more than a few hours when my chamber doors opened and Nenduîl and Tárimë stood beside me. They were in their nightclothes—still in their youth but slightly taller than before.

“We came to see you,” Tárimë said. “Nana said you were not well.”

“Your mother is well,” I asked, sitting. “She is not ill?”

“She is ill,” Nenduîl said climbing into bed and sitting on one side of me as his sister sat on the other. “She told us to come see you. She said you were sad.”

“I am worried about your mother,” I said. “Where is Eärluin?”

“She is sleeping,” Tarime said, curling up next to me. “Do you have a mother?“

“Yes, I do,” I said. “She is far away right now.”

“Do you miss her,” Nenduîl asked. “I will miss my Nana.”

“Yes, I miss my mother,” I said thinking about her. “She was the Queen of Eryn Galen. She was the most beautiful Queen in all of Arda.”

“Nana says so,” Tárimë said yawning. “She says her mother saw her once with her favorite cousin.”

“Longest hair as white as snow,” Nenduîl said, laying his head down on my lap. “Almost to the ground.”

“Yes, it was,” I said. “Your mother told you this?”

“Yes,” Tárimë said sleepily. “Her mother told her when she was a child.”

“She told her all about the Queen,” Nenduîl said, yawning.

“Queen Nimeithel,” I said softly. “My mother.”

“Queen Êlúriel,” Tárimë said. “Queen Êlúriel, too.”

“You were named for her, Tárimë,” Nenduîl said. “I was named for you.”

“I do not understand,” I said as tears had begun to fall.

“I am Tárimë Silme,” Tárimë said falling asleep. “He is Nenduîl Nárisil.”

“Starlight and Fire Moon,” Nenduîl said and drifted off to sleep with his sister.

Once I knew they were sleeping soundly, I pulled away from them gently and tucked them in and slipped away to find Êlúriel.

As the night wore on, Súlelenth had begun to grow weaker. Though she found comfort in her family, everyone knew she would not live much longer. Though I had seen death many times, this was the first time I would see the frailty of life. Elves escape mortality by nature but seldom by fate and the pain is no less real for us than for any living creature witness to fatality.

Not long before first twilight, Haldúir and Arímë arrived from Dale with Êlenuil and Elendôr. As I approached them, Êlúriel came running from outer colonnade toward us. Fëaluin came forward from my study.

“How is Súlelenth,” Arímë asked in a panic.

“She is not long for this world,” Êlúriel said sadly as she embraced her. “But Linurial said she was in good spirits though she grows weaker by the hour. Êlenuil is beside himself with grief.”

“Yes,” I said softly. “I suspect he would be, Êlúriel. Fëaluin, take them to their daughter. I would like a word with Êlúriel.”

Fëaluin nodded and led the couple away.

“Yes, Thranduil,” she asked quietly.

“The twins are asleep in our chambers,” I said. “Should I wake them so they may see their mother?”

“No,” she said. “There is time.”

“I cannot bear the thought of her children losing their mother,” I said. “Or Êlenuil losing his wife.”

Êlúriel looked at me, her eyes full of tears. She knew I was thinking back to when I almost lost her. Without saying a word, she ran away from me. I felt guilty for what I said in truth. I never found any pleasure in hurting anyone—even more so Êlúriel. I went into my study to await word on Súlelenth.

By nightfall the next evening, I was still in my study—lost in thought of all that had happened. I thought about Êlúriel. I longed to have her in my arms more than ever before. It was a wanton selfishness that bothered me knowing that Êlenuil would never have the same luxury again.

“Thranduil, you are needed now,” I heard Fëaluin say. “Súlelenth is dying.”

Those words pierced my heart. She had become as much a daughter to me as Isílriel. I could not bear to bring myself to watch her die–no matter my duty as a king.

“I know what I must do,” I answered. “But I cannot bear it, Fëaluin. She is only a child. Too young to die.”

“No one is too young or too old to die,” he said. “Not even elves. But men are not given the choice of immortality. They are given the choice how they will live their life until they die. They are remembered by how they live, not for how long. She will not have lived long, but she has lived well.”

“Have Nenduîl and Tárimë seen their mother,” I asked. “I am worried about them. Eärluin will not remember this day. They will no longer have a mother nor Êlenuil a wife.”

“They have,” he answered softly.

I rose from my chair I walked slowly into the hall and through the darkened corridors leading to where Súlelenth lay dying. I saw nothing but her with her mother and father—her once vibrant skin drained of color. Êlúriel stood with Ninyáre and Ardúin; their heads hung in sorrow.

Súlelenth looked toward me with a faint smile until she turned her glance onto the ceiling with the familiar look of death I had become acquainted over many centuries. I shut her eyes for eternal sleep and kissed her forehead.

“Namárië, Súlelenth,” I whispered. “Hên nîn, Princess of the Woodland Realm.”

I turned away and saw Êlenuil sobbing desperately at the end of her bed.

“Have you seen to your children, Êlenuil,” I whispered. “They need their father now.”

He looked at me—he face drenched in tears.

“I cannot,” he said. “I cannot.”

I nodded and took my leave with Eldôr, Fëaluin, Elranduil and Ardôr behind me. Once in the hall, turned to speak.

“Fëaluin, you know what needs to be done,” I said. “Do it quickly.”

“Yes, Thranduil,” he said and made his way toward my study.

“Where are their children”

“They are with Linurial,” Elranduil said quietly.

“Go to them, Ardôr.”

“I do not think I am the one that should do so,” he said.

“If your son will not go to them, you must,” Eldôr said. “They need someone right now.”

“Can you not go, Thranduil,” Ardôr asked me. “Like Êlenuil, my manner would do nothing for them. But you are closer to them than even their father.”

“You would ask me to do such a thing,” I asked. “I have many duties as king of this realm, but I cannot take responsibility for something that does not belong to me.”

“I am not asking you,” he said. “I am throwing myself upon your mercy as my king. I am begging. Please.”

“Very well,” I answered. “But you have much to explain to your father for your actions.”

“Yes, he does,” Elranduil said, glaring at his son.

I started away toward the children’s chambers. As I approached the doors, the guards opened the doors for me. When the children saw me, Nenduîl and Tárimë ran to me and embraced me as Eärluin continued to play alone in the corner—unaware she would never see her mother again.

“I knew you would come,” Tárimë said. “How is Nana?”

“She is gone from us,” I said. “She is gone.”

“I know,” Nenduîl said. “She would have come if she were well.”

“Where is Ardôr,” Linurial asked me.

“He is with his father now,” I said. “He was in no condition to come.”

She nodded and went to see about Eärluin as Ardúin came into the room.

“Go to Linurial,” I whispered to Nenduîl and Tárimë. I stood to address Ardúin.

“I know why Ardôr did not come, Thranduil,” she said. “He knows that Êlenuil wishes to leave for Mithlond. He told his father he would should Súlelenth die. Now that she has, he will take the journey.”

We moved our discussion into the hall so the children would not hear.

“He would leave his children,” I asked. “They have just lost their mother. Must they lose their father as well?”

“I know,” she said. “That is why he has chosen to leave.”

“I do not understand.”

“He wishes to leave his children in your care—yours and the Queen.”

I stared at Ardúin—my heart and my thoughts running in all directions at once. Those words harkened back to when Árendil left Tarthôn with me.

“May we stay with you,” Tárimë asked. She had heard what I tried to conceal and had come with her brother into the hall. “I want to stay with you.”

“Me as well,” Nenduîl said. “I want to stay.”

I looked down at them—their faces hard to resist. I loved them very much—as if they were my own. I wonder what Êlúriel would say.

“Yes, you may stay with me,” I said. “Both of you go find Aranduil. I wish to speak with Ardúin for moment—privately.”

They ran down the hall excitedly. I feared they were still too young to know all that was happening; their sister Eärluin even less.

“Ardôr cannot bring himself to see them,” she said. “It is not due to lack of affinity for them. Our son’s words have troubled him since he said them.”

“It is not for Ardôr I have concern,” I said. “It is with your son. The world is not as it was after the Battle in Dale. There is a far greater evil out there. His safe passage is not assured. Should something happen to him, he will truly leave his children fatherless. What would anyone have me tell them?”

She said nothing and lowered her head as she began to cry.

“He does not know himself, Thranduil,” she cried. “Neither you or Elranduil will speak of it. If you would, perhaps he would stay.”

“And risk his children to know what they are? They are far too young to comprehend any of this. Do they know what they are?”

“Yes,” she said. “Súlelenth told them.”

“What did she tell them,” I asked, my voice growing louder. “What did she say to them?”

“She told them their mother was human and their father was elven,” she whispered.

“Did you or anyone tell Súlelenth about Êlenuil,” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Then Nenduîl and Tárimë do not know who they are,” I said. “It will be up to me to tell them. That is why Ardôr will not see them. This has nothing to do with Súlelenth. I will speak with both of them but not until after Súlelenth is laid to rest. If Êlenuil wishes to leave thereafter, I will let him do as he wishes. But know this, no matter what he decides, Nenduîl, Tárimë and Eärluin belong to me.”

I left swiftly in a deepening anger I would keep to myself until the time came for it to be unleashed.”––TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil (EXT. VER.) by J. Marie Miller 12-09-17

After Legolas leaves, a tragedy unfolds with the death of Súlelenth. Now the decision to leave the children with Thranduil and Êlúriel by their father, Êlenuil leaves the Elvenking in a predicament.