43. Afterword - "The Last Peredhel"
In time a boy was born to Tasarion, as Lady Galadriel had indeed long foreseen. A peredhel, a treasured child whose bright hair mixed the rich gold of winter honey with stands pale as harvest grains; his green eyes like newly opened leaves. The elf who had called herself Tasarion when she became an archer with the wardens, who gave up her female name to become as neutral as the trees, was fond of the babe and nurtured him, but he was not entirely hers, and never would be, this half-elven child. She soon left him in the charge of Lord Celeborn and Lord Haldir, when she departed into the West, along with many others of elvenkind. The Lords of Lorien were as fathers to the child. He was raised as their son, privileged with rank and honour, protected and much loved by them both, and by their court and followers in the forests they took as their own.
Some fifty years later, at Lord Boromir’s funeral, a party of elven lords arrived at Minas Tirith with – wonder of wonders! - a small, beautiful elven child who answered to the name of Celebmir. He was kept sheltered among the visiters and jealously guarded, so that he was rarely seen other than by the King and Queen, and Lord Boromir’s old amah who was still favoured at court. They attended the public funeral which was held in the City of Stone and the Hallows; after which the body was secretly taken, as was Lord Boromir’s private will and wish, and placed in an elven boat, which had been bought down river with the elves.
Then the slender grey craft was loosed to the Anduin and, eventually, the Great Sea. It was the elves, led by Celeborn and Haldir who towed the boat away with them in the green dawn. They paddled their craft quietly down the river into the morning mists, seeing that Lord Boromir, the King’s Steward and Emissary, Elf-Friend, beloved of the late King of the Mark had an escort and honour guard on his last journey to the sea. After first kissing the corpse in formal farewell, the elf-child sat crouched in the bow of his fathers’ craft, and solemnly watched over the noble man laying in the craft that floated behind them on the glittering waters.
Nearly seventy years afterwards, a similar small party of mysterious elven lords attended the far smaller and less public funeral of the amah. With them was the same very young elf, taller now, but still kept close among them so that scarce anybody spoke to him, apart from King Elessar, who was the chief mourner at the venerable old woman’s funeral. The King wept openly as her linen-wrapped body was laid on the bier, silent tears rolling down his cheeks to wet his now grey beard.
The young elf brought with him a small box of grey soil from Lothlorien. With great respect he poured it into the hole dug among the ashes after the amah’s funeral pyre. In this, King Elessar directed to be planted the rare golden-leaved sapling the amah had for many years kept and carefully tended in a great pot in the courtyard of her house. This soon grew very tall when the roots were given their freedom, there on the banks of the Great River above the renewed city of Osgiliath, the only Mallorn east of Lothlorien. The elves then journeyed south to Ithilien to visit with their kin dwelling among the new glades and woods planted there.
A few months later the same elves returned for the King’s funeral, an occasion of far more pomp and ceremony than the lowly amah’s. Consequently the elf was more visible and some intimates at the court were able to hear and note with wonder the young Celebmir’s solemn public declaration to the mourning Queen.
“I am half-elven. Three times now have I witnessed the Gift of Men, and I wish none of it. I make my choice, and I chose to be elvenkind. Therefore there is a place for me in one of the ships that go into the West, but I shall never take it. My fathers will never leave Middle-earth. They were born here, as was I, it will always and forever be my one and only home. But you, my Lady, you gave up your place on the ships for love, and now for love, I offer you mine. Take it when you will.”
And the young elf bowed very low before the pale Queen whose eyes brimmed with bright tears. It was sometime afterwards, she bid a loving farewell to her daughters and her son, the new king, and departed from Minas Tirith and Gondor forever, but whether she eventually took the place freely and willingly offered to her and went finally into the distant West to re-join her kin… is something known only to her.
Celebmir grew tall and strong, valiant in his deeds, wide in his knowledge, wise in his thoughts. In the slow time of the Firstborn, he followed his fathers as leader and eventually became Lord of the Elves of Middle-earth. Like them, he was devoted to the forests and woods, and loved them above any other part of Arda, and he never, ever did leave them.
And much, much later as the world slowly changed shape, and the mountains and rivers altered and became strange, when old deeds became the half-remembered stuff of tales and legends, folk who occasionally glimpsed him began to call him by another name – Calenadan…
…The Green Man.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.