Imeldis, first among the queen’s maids, fell against the cavern wall in the outside passage as soon as she and the others had left the king and the prince alone with their mistress, pressing a trembling hand over her mouth.  Alphien and Duiniel also lingered nearby.  They knew they should afford the royal family greater privacy in their moment of supreme grief, but now that the dread moment had come they could not bear to leave her either.  It would not be long now.

After an agony of silence, the king’s desolate cry split the night and at last wrung a sob from her, but Imeldis then swallowed her own grief and forced herself to be steady for the queen’s sake.  She had work to do.  “Stay and attend our lady when our lord, the king, is willing to release her,” she quietly instructed the others.  “I will find Gwaelas.”

Imeldis turned and went in search of the king’s man.  She had not far to go, for Gwaelas, hearing what they had heard, was already approaching the royal chambers, a dreadful suspicion on his face. 

Imeldis held up a hand to stop him and shook her head.  “The queen is dead.  Leave them in peace.”

Gwaelas bowed his head with an anguished sigh, sharing in some measure his master’s sorrow.  “I feared it was so,” he said.  Then almost at once his gaze became distant as he considered what had now to be done.  “Somehow we must prepare a fitting burial for her.”

“Set your mind at rest, Gwaelas,” Imeldis assured him.  “It was the queen’s wish that the king not be troubled about these matters.  Come, arrangements have been made.”

 

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Indeed, knowing her end was near, Queen Lindóriel had quietly made all the necessary arrangements herself.  She and her maids had been secretly embroidering a wealth of yellow roses around the edges of the king’s green banner to be her burial shroud.  She had discreetly commissioned the services of a single woodcarver and his sons to craft a worthy casket, every part of it adorned with intricately intertwined roses and beech boughs.  So complete were her instructions and preparations, the household found they were able to proceed without delay.

She had requested a military funeral because her people were at war.  So, on the following morning, the king in full battle dress carried her body in solemn procession to the palace gates and laid it in her great oaken casket in the sight of all who had come to mourn her.  She wore the richly embellished tunic of a warrior queen, and in her hands her son placed her sword and a single rose.  She had written a parting address to the people of Eryn Galen which none had the heart to read aloud, but it was posted upon the gates outside, and all who read it wept.

At midday the queen’s casket, still open, was lifted onto the shoulders of King Thranduil, Prince Legolas, Lord Galadhmir and Lord Calenmir, her only living relations east of the Sea.  They carried her slowly in precise military step to the somber beat of the war drums, followed by a thicket of banner-bearers and rank upon rank of the King’s Guard and other members of the king’s household.  Every soldier who could be present at such short notice had turned out in his uniform, standing in silent ranks along the route.  Crowds of people had gathered beside the road to mourn and honor her, weeping and strewing the path ahead with roses, all falling into line behind as the slow and ever-lengthening procession passed through the autumn wood.

As they entered the little valley she had chosen, rows of mounted lancemen draped in the finest heraldry lifted their weapons into an arch to salute their queen as she passed beneath it.  Another honor guard of sixty soldiers stood around the beginnings of a barrow which was being constructed for her.  There, upon a great, flat stone, her bearers set her down for a final farewell. 

Great tears were streaming down the king’s face, but his features were firmly set, and the others were striving to follow his example as they performed that final service for her.  The soldiers approached to fit the lid on the casket, but Thranduil would not allow it, reluctant to finally lose her from sight.  He leaned over to hold her hand and lay his brow against hers once more before she could be taken from him.  The tragic scene caused Legolas to nearly lose his composure at last until Galadhmir gently steadied him from behind.

Finally, the lid was fitted and the heavy iron stays secured.  The embroidered shroud was draped across it.  Six Guardsmen lifted the casket and carried it to the barrow’s foundation, setting it in place.  Lady Gwaelin sang a keening lament which wrung tears from everyone as the fitted stones were built into a self-supporting dome around it.

The ceremonies ended as the drudgery of piling earth and stones onto the barrow began.  The mournful crowds dispersed and the soldiers were dismissed, although an honor guard remained to see the work done properly. 

The king also refused to leave.  Imeldis felt keenly for him, as everyone did.  Her father had died in the first battle with the Orcs and she had seen her mother mourn in much the same way.  Thranduil did not linger to make a public show of his grief.  He stayed because he did not yet know how to leave her.  When it came to it, there was no easy way to leave your beloved dead in the ground and return home without them.  It changed you.

A great many things were changed by this, she felt sure, and very few for the better.

 

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