Past, Present, Future – An t-Seann Aimsir, An Diugh, An t-àm ri Teachd

  Sienna, June 9th, Year 67 F.A.**

  My coronation ceremony passed without incident. Everything felt almost too orderly, too smooth, as if Gondor had done nothing else for generations but crown kings. Perhaps that was true. My grandfather Aragorn Elessar had ensured after the War of the Ring that Gondor could withstand any crisis. I could barely remember him; I had been a child when he died.

  The great hall was filled with soft murmuring, the scent of incense, and the morning sunlight falling through the high windows. My mother was present as well, dressed entirely in black as mourning required. But instead of the simple headpiece she had worn for days, she now wore a fine dark headdress with a veil falling behind her. It was a quiet concession to the solemnity of the occasion, an attempt to honor tradition without denying grief. She looked pale but composed, and I was grateful to see her there.

  The priest stepped forward, an older man with a voice that filled the room effortlessly. He spoke the ancient words that had been spoken for centuries, and I knelt as tradition demanded. The crown Aragorn had worn was brought forward on a cushion. Up close it looked heavier, more serious, as if it knew the weight it represented. The priest lifted it, paused for a breath, and placed it on my head. It was cold. And heavy.

  Then came the song.

  Vaness?ya

  Can? meleht?y?

  Latn?ss tanom?

  Andav?

  Imi alcariss?

  Ilya ya malta

  Uan na mirilya

  Ilya i ranyar

  Uin nar vanw?

  The traditional song of the Kings of Gondor, which I had learned only in Dol Amroth. I did not sing it perfectly. My voice trembled in places, and I did not hit every note as cleanly as I had practiced. But the song belonged to the coronation as much as the crown itself. And I sang it because it was my duty and because it was right.

  When I finished, the hall was silent. Not reverent—more surprised. Then the room seemed to breathe again, and the people bowed. I was Queen.

  The rest of the afternoon I greeted dozens of guests as bravely as I could. I felt guilty for barely being able to focus on the short conversations. I knew these moments meant something to the people, but I was more exhausted than ever before in my life. At least the feast would not be held on the same evening, as it had been in ancient times. Long ago, before the Ring-wars, it had been tradition to hold a banquet after the night watch, the coronation, the council meeting, and the formal greetings. But since King Elessar had ended that custom, the Council agreed it would be too much for me—and for the servants. For once, I agreed completely. And the thought of celebrating the day after King Eldarion’s burial felt wrong.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of my next guest. A tall woman in a green travel dress and knee-high boots entered.

  “Your Majesty.” She knelt gracefully before me and looked at me steadily.

  “Have we met before?” I asked.

  “No. I am an old friend of your father. Cadlaìgh of Lothlórien. Tha co-fhaireachdainn agam riut. My condolences.”

  “You are an Elf!” I blurted out.

  “Tha sin ceart. That is correct.”

  “And what brings you to Gondor?”

  “Bha mi an seo oidhche a-raoir. Bha mi a’ seinn.”

  “I was here last night. I was singing.”

  The lament.

  I answered in Gàidhlig as well:

  “Bha an t-òran glè brèagha, tapadh leibh. A bheil sibh a’ falbh a-nis?”

  “The song was very beautiful. Are you leaving today?”

  “I have paid Eldarion my last respects. My task here is done.”

  “Where will you go next?”

  “I do not know yet. Perhaps I will visit the cities of Men before I follow my people west.”

  The guests behind her grew restless, but I wanted to know more. I called for the housekeeper.

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  “Our guest shall stay a few days and rest.”

  Then I dismissed her.

  June 10th, Year 67 F.A.

  The next morning, I went to see my mother first. Her chief lady-in-waiting led me into her chamber. Mother sat in her favorite chair, embroidery frame in her lap, her hair pinned up but uncovered.

  “Halò, a mhàthair. How are you? I wanted to see you yesterday, but I was too tired.”

  “Na gabh dragh, a nighean. Do not worry. I know coronation day is exhausting. At your father’s coronation I drank so much peppermint tea just to stay awake that I could not stand the taste for years. But you did well. I am glad I could withdraw after the ceremony.”

  I sat down.

  “You collapsed after the burial. I was worried. Did a healer see you?”

  No answer.

  “Mother?”

  Her smile faded.

  “Of course a healer saw me. I am part of the royal family. Nothing is left to chance in Gondor. And before you ask: she said I pushed myself too hard these past days and should rest. Easy for her to say! As if I had decided after Eldarion’s accident to let everything—” She gestured broadly. “—fall apart!”

  I stood.

  “If the healer ordered rest, I will not disturb you further.”

  I put my headdress back on.

  “Even if you ignore my warning: be careful with the Elf. She has her own intentions.”

  Her voice was unusually cold.

  I said nothing and left.

  A short time later, I found Cadlaìgh in the gardens under an old tree.

  “I hope the extended stay in the White City pleases you,” I said.

  “I do not enjoy crowds. But I am glad to be your guest. You wished to speak with me?”

  “How did it happen that you sang at my father’s burial?”

  She set aside the map she had been studying and began to speak.

  “I am a dark-haired Elf and come from Lothlórien. My parents, Legolas Thranduilion and Tauriel, took responsibility for Lothlórien after Lady Galadriel sailed west. Like many young people, I eventually felt the need to see the world. I came to Gondor and found work in the palace. No one knew I was an Elf—it would have caused too much attention. Your father, then a young prince, noticed me. He flirted with me, as young men do. Things got out of hand. There was a great celebration, and I was attending your aunt that day, so I was in the great hall. Suddenly the prince asked me to dance. It was completely inappropriate, but I could not refuse. He led me to the center of the hall, called for silence, and announced that he could not marry the Princess of Rohan because he was already engaged to me.”

  I stared at her in shock.

  “Half the court laughed, the other half was horrified. And then…” Cadlaìgh’s voice softened.

  “Then Queen Arwen stood before us. She did not shout. She simply looked at me with those eyes that saw everything. Of course she knew immediately that I was an Elf. She had probably known the moment I entered the hall. She said: ‘My son, you have caused enough trouble today. You are betrothed to Princess Tariél, and you have humiliated your sister’s companion. Your behavior is unacceptable.’”

  “What happened then?” I asked.

  “She did not raise her voice. But the entire hall fell silent. It was never made public. Queen Arwen ensured no one outside the hall ever heard of it. I left the next morning. No one forced me, but it was clear I had to go.”

  “And my father? Did he look for you?”

  “Our paths crossed once more. He met me during a visit to King Thranduil in Mirkwood. He said he had not known that I…”

  “That you were an Elf,” I finished. “How did you hide it at all?”

  “I cannot speak of that with Men, Your Majesty.”

  “And my mother? Did she know?”

  “Tariél did not know me. She knew nothing. But she is upset, so I fear she has learned of it recently. She must have heard the stories others told about me.”

  “Tariél judges from pain, not from truth,” Cadlaìgh said softly. “I do not blame her. But I do not want you to see me through her eyes.”

  Then she smiled faintly.

  “And by the way, I was not at the coronation. But I heard you sing. The walls of this city carry voices farther than you think. You honored the tradition.”

  I stormed into Tariél’s chamber without knocking.

  “Mother… may I ask you something?”

  “What is it?”

  “Why did you never tell me about Cadlaìgh?”

  She went pale.

  “What did she tell you?”

  “That she and Father… that he humiliated her before the entire court. That it was no romance, only foolishness. And that you knew nothing.”

  “I do not want to hear her name.” Her voice was sharp, brittle.

  I sat down.

  “What will you do now?”

  She looked lost.

  “I do not know! I have done what was expected of me my entire life. I came to Gondor because I was told to. I married your father because it was my duty. I bore you and protected you from being married off too young. I begged Eru Ilúvatar for a son night after night so Gondor would have the heir it wanted.”

  She wiped her tears.

  “And now?”

  I stepped toward her.

  “Perhaps you should not decide anything for now. You are part of the royal family — and I need you. I must know whom I can trust.”