Belen Menel
Chapter 8: Of History, Philosophy, and Stealth

The weeks the Drúin spent at Minas Tirith were full of excitement, debate and general good will. It was clear that Gobân, Leuruna and the rest of their delegation had prepared for this visit.

The people of Ghân-buri-Ghân knew of their kin from the old Pukel-land, ancient Drughu land, to the west of them, but they had feared for their survival. After the War of the Ring, the two communities reestablished communication, and began the process of finding kin amongst the groups that had been previously separated by time and distance. They rejoiced in their reunions, celebrating the longevity of Drughu knowledge.

In preparation for their trip to Minas Tirith, they had gathered their most learned people from both the Drúadan Forest and the Drúwaith Iaur. For many weeks they debated the best way to achieve the Return of Drughu families to Ithilien. Some expressed concern that stereotypes about the Drughu would stall talks. Others were quick to point out that while the Rohirrim may have possessed inaccurate attitudes about them, much had changed since that day Ghân-buri-Ghân met King Theoden and guided the Rohirrim through the Drúadan Forest.

Their unease was not without basis. For as long as their stories were passed on, they told of how other evil groups of Men from the East had persecuted them, and it was for this reason they journeyed west, to find places in the mountains they could live in peace, hidden from other Men. [1]

Ghân reminded both communities of the benevolence of Elessar. Elessar had after all granted the Drúadan Forest to his people. Leuruna also reminded them that their peoples had not always feared all other Men. She told of her people’s time with the Folk of Haleth and how the merging of the two had helped their survival. Ghân followed her tale with the story of “The Faithful Stone” that recounted the deep friendship between one of Haleth’s folk, Barach, and Aghan the Drûg, a story familiar to all Drughu [2]. The two communities agreed that friendship could be won. They had faith in Elessar. They had faith in this new age they were embarking upon together.

But their remained the peculiar and irksome issue, that hornet’s nest that had been recently stirred in Ithilien. Leuruna had come with other families from Andrast, from Drúwaith Iaur, to resettle in Ithilien. This Return, though was not without peril. As told the Drúin are a people of immense foresight and uncanny magic in recognizing nature’s signs. Without a doubt, the return of hornets to Drúwaith Iaur was not taken lightly, for the Drúin understood the language of nature all too well, and she had told them very loudly that they needed to tend to unfinished business. It would be up to Leuruna and the group that came with her to not only find a good home in Ithilien and get on with the cultivating and renewal, but it was also up to them to restore hope to a lonely little corner in Ithilien.

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With Aragorn’s permission, calls went out to gather nobles, diplomats, and scholars that would have interest in meeting with the Drúin. The Reunited Kingdom’s wealth of thinkers of all sorts, from philosophers, historians, to esotericists descended upon Minas Tirith, along with merchants, military diplomats, and others. The Drúin understood their hosts well—they had the advantage of planning. In this regard, a summit was convened, covering a diversity of topics. Philosophers flocked to the symposiums on Drughu cosmology, while the historians flocked to the lectures on the Drúedain migrations. At a symposium titled, “Númenor and the Drúedain: King Ar-Pharazôn's Legacy,” Gondorian nobles, sat next to diplomats and historians, merchants, healers, and many others that were fascinated by the glimpse into Númenorean life from the Drúin perspective.

Historians also rushed to catch the colloquium on Drúin memory and relating of history. Philosophers were also present in large numbers, and following the colloquium spoke excitedly with their historian colleagues about the astounding similarities between Drú and Elvish knowledge. One philosopher, with a striking black head of hair that curled wildly about his face, did what a philosopher does best—philosophized.

“Fascinating, while the Drúin live rather short lives, the collective memory is ancient, passed down from one-generation to the next.” A historian, a woman of late age, but incredible stature added, “Yes their organization of stories, in essence of knowledge within this impressive breadth of historical memory is quite similar to the Elvish knowledge system, and more precisely the Silvan way of historical narrative.” They then turned their queries to the Drughu that had presented the colloquium, taking care not to get caught up in the technical language of their disciplines. Some Drúin spoke better Common than others, but the entirety of the delegation sent to Minas Tirith spoke, at minimum, conversational Westron.

These same historians, philosophers and diplomats conducted seminars for the Drúin as well, relating their histories, their beliefs, and more detailed accounts of the War of the Ring. It was a fruitful exchange of ideas, and would remain a vital and exiting aspect of Gondorian-Drúin relations.

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The summit brought not only Gondors’ intelligentsia, it also brought some numbers of Elves. Legolas, though he loved visiting Aragorn and Arwen, was not keen on visiting Minas Tirith. There was much beauty to it, but it remained a city of the Edain, for the Edain. While he enjoyed the deep presence of stone beneath his feet, he missed the presence of green things. As he walked the pathways of Minas Tirith, he would imagine his friend Gimli going on about the nature of the stonework, pointing out his handiwork here and there. This always brought a smile to his face. He would have to send word to his friend to visit soon. He missed him.

As he wandered the pathways, some private, some public, in his contemplative mood, he remained willfully unaware of the sidelong looks he received from many of Gondors’ folk. Some were curious, others filled with admiration, still others were simply in awe to be so close to one of the Nine Walkers. He heard familiar steps fall in line behind him. Legolas could not contain his mirth, “My lady, you realize I have been aware of you following me for quite some time now.”

He heard the steps behind him halt. Legolas turned to look at his shadow that wore a look of disappointment. After a minute of silence, Legolas sighed with amusement, “Go on.”

“I knew you knew I was behind you, but I thought that maybe…I thought that maybe it was only until a moment ago you knew I was there.”

“Now Hild,” Legolas replied, still quite amused, “I must state my gratitude for your company. I would be most ignoble if I did not.”

Incredulous, the young maiden of Rohan offered, “Gratitude, how have I gained your gratitude, my lord.”

Legolas chuckled, amused by Éowyn’s herald. But his laughter only caused further indignation. Hild held her head down and tried her hardest to keep her lips from puckering in what she perceived to be childish indignation at being discovered. But as always, around Legolas, as hard as she tried, she could not help but feel so immensely child-like. In the world of Men she was young woman, but amongst Elves, she felt but a babe. Her lips quivered as she tried with all her might not to pout.

“Dúath nín, my shadow,” Legolas spoke softly, his voice betraying no hint of his pleasure, “I did not mean to offend.”

Hild’s head shot up, her eyes wide with concern, “No, no, my lord, I…uh, you have not offended me!”

Legolas knew quite well how Hild would react. If only Hild knew how to read his eyes. He was clearly enjoying her predicament. The young woman was wringing her hands, clearly trying to think of what to say next. Being not a cruel Elf, Legolas, gently clasped Hild’s hands in his own. “Dúath nín, you know that you did not offend me. I meant to say that it would be rude of me to not to let you know that your presence here amongst these stones is welcome. Your company, though quiet, is much better than stone!”

Hild’s eyes brightened, and a slight smile crept on her lips.

“You are certainly becoming more stealthy. I think, to the ears of men, your presence would remain unnoticed.”

Hild was now smiling widely, but a doubt remained. This so much Legolas could tell from her singly eyebrow that refused to settle. “My lord, I would never confidently claim this skill to one so knowledgeable as you.” She paused, looking down to collect her thoughts and carefully plan her next statement.

Hild observed Legolas’ hands, his very strong and masculine hands, holding her own hands. Suddenly she became aware of his touch, his warmth, and how little her own hands felt engulfed in his. Color began to rise in her cheeks, but she could not move her hands. She tried to force her gaze away from his hands, but feared that if she did Legolas would see that her pale face was now aglow, cheeks flushed with the blood that was rising.

Legolas could feel Hild stiffen. He could feel the blood pour into her hands, the heat the blood generated, a not uncommon reaction of the fairer sex. Poor girl, he mused, he had not considered that Hild could feel anything but childish awe for him. He had not been around children of the Second Born enough to judge their maturation. But Legolas was generous.

He raised one hand to her chin, and lifted Hild’s face to face him. Releasing her hands completely, he brought up his other hand to tuck a few strands of golden hair that had fallen over her face behind her ears. He spoke gently, “My shadow, I speak truthfully, your skills at the covert arts are superior for that which involves Men.”

Hild heard his words, but they were less important than the feel of his hand grazing her ear as he tucked her hair. She let out a nervous laugh. “Lady Éowyn will be pleased to know.”

“Indeed she will Dúath nín, indeed she will.”

A gentle but hearty laughter erupted from a garden near Legolas and Hild. Legolas turned to the source of the laughter, his eyes betraying his continued good mood. “I had heard of the uncanny ability of Drúin to be absolutely still and silent,” Legolas offered the sitting figure. Turning to Hild, he added, “Now that, my shadow, is stealth.” [3]

“Ai, dearest, I simply sat here gathering my thoughts,” Leuruna replied, eyes sparkling. “I was overjoyed to watch an elegant cat play with a stunned little mouse.”

“Oh, dear Mother, and where has this cat gone?”

Leuruna was thoroughly enjoying her first interactions with Legolas. “I hear it purring with satisfaction. Do you?”

“Oh indeed, I hear it now,” Legolas purred.

“I cannot,” Hild interrupted. “Where is the cat? I have not seen it.”

Leuruna and Legolas shared knowing chuckles, and not wanting to be left out, Hild joined in their merriment.

[1] Christopher Tolkien writes in Unfinished Tales concerning the origins and migrations of the Drúedain: “Another note says that historians in Gondor believed that the first Men to cross the Anduin were indeed the Drúedain. They came (it was believed) from lands south of Mordor, but before they reached the costs of Haradwaith they turned north into Ithilien, and eventually finding a way across the Anduin (probably near Cair Andoros) settled in the vales of the White Mountains and the wooded lands at their northern feet. ‘They were a secretive people, suspicious of other kinds of Men by whom they had been harried and persecuted as long as they could remember, and they had wandered west seeking a land where they could be hidden and have peace.’” (pp. 399-400).

[2] The story The Faithful Stone can be found in Unfinished Tales, and like I tell in the body of the story, it tells the story of a friendship between a Folk of Haleth and a Drûg.

[3] Tolkien describes the Drúedain as having incredible powers of stealth in Unfinished Tales: “But among the powers of this strange people perhaps most to be remarked was their capacity of utter silence and stillness, which they could at times endure for many days on end…” (p. 395).