Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Hope of a Star  by Mirach

2. Green stone

February 16th, 3019 T. A.

A slipstream... a place of light in the growing darkness is Lórien – such is the might of the Lady of the Golden Wood. Galadriel...Sometimes Finarfin comes to Elwing’s tower when Vingilot is in its haven, to ask for news about his daughter – about Artanis, Nerwen, who became Galadriel. And I tell him how she danced under the stars, and created the realm of Lothlórien with her song and the power of the star on her finger. I tell him about the mallorn trees, golden against the cold winter sky when all the other trees stand naked and bleak like masts of abandoned ships sailing though the ghostly waters into the distance. The winter has not come to Lórien yet... but the fall is approaching.

The last night she sang to me. She sang about hope and light, and then she stroked the surface of the water and caught my light reflecting there into her song. The light of my star, of the silmaril raised to the sky she put into a vial, and it shimmered there like diamond dew in the fresh mornings of Valinor. That vial is now in the hands of the one who carries a heavy burden, and I feel like I am in that fellowship myself, able to help them on that dangerous journey. When all other lights go out, I will be there...

...do you feel my presence, Aragorn? You led them to the safety of Lórien. No evil enters the borders of that realm... except the one that you carry with yourself. But it is true for grief, also, and for other burdens that you carry.

Today, you left the safe haven that is Lothlórien, and, while I sail the heavenly currents above you, you sail the mighty river Anduin in grey elven boats. You are leading the vessel safely and firmly, the first of the three boats... There is still doubt and grief, but also a new strength and grim determination in your movements, one that I didn’t see before. To my eye, you look almost like a king standing on the prow of his ship... You remind me on Elros sailing to Númenor – to the kingdom given to him by Valar. To his own kingdom. Are you sailing to your kingdom, Aragorn? Or are you sailing to ruins and darkness? Your path is as unclear before my eyes as it is before yours...

From the slipstream of Lórien, where will the river take you? It flows to the south... Gondor is there, with its white towers and mighty walls... and silver trumpets – trumpets calling for help in the fight. Will you hear their call? But another realm lies to the south, too. Its towers are black, and its trumpets call for blood. Does your way lead there, to the fires of Mordor? You will have to decide, and not only for yourself, for you are the leader of the Fellowship. The weight of that decision lies on you even since you left Moria.

Yet there is a new light in your eyes when you are looking forwards, to the south. In your gaze, I see a reflection of a green stone... It is pinned on your breast, a magnificent green stone in a silver brooch in the shape of an eagle spreading its wings. A word comes to my mind when I see it. Thorongil... Eagle of the Star. The gem shines like a star between the eagle’s wings, but it is your look that reminds me on it. It is a look of one who accepted the leadership...

The stone... Green stone shining like the rays of sun through the young beech leaves... I recognize it! An eagle-plume upon his crest, upon his breast an emerald... I remember those verses from the hobbit’s song in the Hall of Fire, and this is indeed Elessar, the stone given to me by my mother Idril, that I carried with me into the West... You sat at the window, my son, and I saw the hobbit approaching you that evening. I remember how he asked for your help with the song then, and you told him that if he had the cheek to make verses about Eärendil in the house of Elrond, it was his affair... I had to smile at that, my child, but it was a sad smile. Did you seek to protect your father from the memories that such verses might evoke? The memories of a father leaving his two little sons behind... Yet you insisted on the green stone, although the hobbit didn’t know why it is important to you. Now you carry that very stone upon your breast...

The Elessar I’m giving to you, my son. It shines with the light of that which was lost, but it is more than memory. Enerdhil, the greatest jewel-smith of Gondolin, has made it, and the light of spring sun through the emerald leaves in the gardens of the city that is no more is trapped in its facets. Never more will the sun shine on the white towers and reflect in the silver fountains. Yet when you look through it, you will see things that were withered or burned healed again, or as they were in the grace of their youth, and your hands will bring healing from hurt to all that they touch when you hold it. The Elessar I leave with thee, for there are grievous hurts to Middle-earth which thou maybe shalt heal. But to none other shalt thou deliver it.”

Eärendil bowed before Idril and she put the stone into his hand. He clasped it firmly, as if it wasn’t a jewel that he was holding, but his mother’s hand in a memory of running, fleeing before shadow and flame... But in the moment when he touched the stone, he looked back in memory, and didn’t see smoking ruins of a once beautiful city, but white towers and green gardens, immaculate and shining in the sun. A sense of warmth spread from his hand, like a sleepy afternoon on a sunny glade, and he had to smile with the feeling.

Idril’s eyes smiled too, and she kissed her son on the brow. Then Tuor put his hand on Eärendil’s shoulder, and looked him in the eyes with a long and wistful gaze. His hair was silvered with the touches of old age like winter touches the branches of a tree, and wrinkles creased his brow, but his eyes were clear as they had always been, and Eärendil could see the depths in them, like the infinite ocean. Then Tuor averted his eyes, and turned slowly. No words were needed between the father and son. Eärendil knew: it was their last look. The call of the Sea... Ulmo sounded his horns in the depths, and Tuor’s heart was drawn to them, to the wild, free, terribly-beautiful Sea. Eärendil had the feeling that he could hear the echo of this call in the foamy waves splashing on the beach and in his father’s eyes...

He watched the ship, proud Eärrámë built by Tuor himself, until it disappeared behind the horizon with the setting sun. Then he felt someone at his side. “Elwing...” he whispered, and she reached her hand and entwined her fingers with his. Together they stood on the beach until the stars were lit in the sky. A gull cried in the distance, and Elwing smiled. He kissed her on the top of her head. “Come, my sweet gull... it’s getting cold here...” One last time he looked at the broad ocean, and then he led his young wife to their home at the seashore, clutching a green stone to his breast.

After all the centuries, the memory is as clear as in the first day after my parents left, following the call of the Sea. I heard it too... I heard it from the very moment when I saw the blue infinity, and I longed to know what is there where the sea touches the sky - what is there where my father left... I heard the horns of Ulmo in my dreams. They were calling me, and a sound of urgency was in their call. I knew I had to sail and bear the message to Valar – a message from both Firstborn and Secondborn children of Ilúvatar, a call for help. I, with the blood of both, had to speak for both – or die trying to reach the western shores, for I had both the blood of a Mortal and Exile, for whom the realm of Aman is closed. Yet I had to sail, and hope to deliver the plea. But in the corner of my heart, I also hoped to see my parents again...

The first memory I have of my mother is the emerald upon her breast when she sang over my cradle, and sun shone through the windows in Gondolin. I carried the stone on my journeys - in some foolish hope that it would lead me to her, perhaps. Even the thought of my sons, my two beautiful sons, could not hold me back from that journey. I remember my last glimpse of them, waving on the shore, until my ship disappeared behind the horizon with the setting sun. They did not understand that they will never see me again. A part of my heart stayed on that shore. But I had to sail and follow the call, deliver the message. I stood on the prow of my ship, and the Elessar I carried upon my breast...

Eärendil!”

He turned at the sound of his name, and bowed to the Valie that approched him. “My Lady Yavanna?” He was still nervous in the presence of the Powers, despite speaking to the whole Council of them earlier. But under her look he relaxed slightly. Before, she looked much more intimidating on her throne in the halls of Ilmarin, like a mighty tree reaching to the clouds with its crown and crushing rocks with its roots, proud and magnificent. Now she was like a golden field of reaping corn, rippling in the wind, and her look was warm and welcoming. Inadvertently, he smiled.

Varda says that Vingilot is ready. Tomorrow, you will sail for the first time.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, and then looked up at her, unsure if he could ask his own question. Her eyes were welcoming, and encouraged him to speak.

My Lady, when will the host of Valinor sail?” he asked.

Even as we speak the preparations are being made,” she answered. “But it will take some time to assemble the hosts...” She looked at him intently. “But that is not the question you wanted to ask...”

He bit his lip, and his hand went unconsciously to the green stone on his breast. Yavanna waited patiently. He sighed. “I... I wanted to ask what happened to my parents...” he said quietly.

Yavanna smiled at him gently, but her eyes were sad. “That I can’t tell you, child. Know that they are well, but you will never see them again. Such is the will of Ilúvatar.”

He could not hide his disappointment, and suddenly something grim was in the Valie’s eyes, that made him take a step back. It passed quickly, but he found himself trembling. She put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched instinctively from her touch, but then he felt waves of soothing warmth flow from her hand, and he relaxed and looked up to meet her gaze.

You came to deliver a message, not to find your parents...” she said mildly, but firmly. “You were allowed to enter the realm that was forbidden to you, but not on this purpose.”

He sighed, and nodded, still playing with the green stone. “I hoped to return it to my mother...” he whispered.

Yavanna smiled at him. “She does not need it in the place where she is. She knew it, and gave it to you to use it and heal the wounds of Middle-earth. You did worthy deeds with it, but now you do not need it anymore. It is time to pass it along to another.”

Eärendil looked uncertain as he stroked the smooth facets of the stone with his fingers. “She said... I shall deliver it to none other. It’s my first... and last... memory of her...”

Yavanna said nothing, but her look was compassionate. Finally he sighed, and unclamped the brooch. He held the jewel in his hand, looking at it for the last time. Here, in Valinor, there was no difference when he looked through the stone. It was Middle-earth that needed healing. Middle-earth that he left behind, where he left his own sons behind... He put the stone into the Valie’s hand. “Give it to the one who will need it, my lady.”

Yavanna smiled. “I will, my child... I will.”

Many centuries I had to wait to see her words fulfilled. Yet what is an entire age to the Valar? I saw it on the ship that sailed together with my own – Vingilot in the heaven above, and the ship carrying the Istari on the ocean below, both sailing as a sign of hope. And as such the jewel came to Galadriel, when she grieved for the falling leaves and fading flowers of Middle-earth – a sign that the eyes of the Valar are not dimmed nor their hearts hardened. There was the stone that I carried to the West, and it had the same purpose as was my own... When I think back on it, I must wonder about the strange way of Valar. But I knew that Galadriel was not the one that Yavanna has spoken about. “But it is not for you to possess. You shall hand it on when the time comes. For before you grow weary, and at last forsake Middle-earth one shall come who is to receive it, and his name shall be that of the stone: Elessar he shall be called,” Olórin said to her. Now I see the meaning of his words...

You made me wait long to see your promise fulfilled, Yavanna... but it was a worth waiting. Aragorn... You are the one meant to carry the stone and heal the wounds of Middle-earth, my son... I see the jewel on your breast, and I am proud. So proud... May the elessar help you on the road that lies before you. May it bring healing through your hands as it once brought through mine in the havens of Sirion that lie beneath the waves of the sea now. May it... oh Aragorn!... may it ease the burdens on your heart, the grief and self-doubt. The eagle spreads its wings and the stone shines with the light of sun through the young leaves. May the wings give you speed when you need it most and the light lead you when the path ahead lies in the darkness. I wish you would remember me when carrying it. But it does not matter. What matters is that the green stone that was once mine has come to you, and it can help you in the trials that lie ahead. It could not come to hands more worthy to wield it then yours, Aragorn... Elessar.


A/N: The tale of elessar is described in Unfinished Tales. There are two version of that story. In the other version Aragorn’s elessar is not the same that Eärendil bore to the West, but a replacement, created by Celembrimor for Galadriel. But I think Eärendil likes the first version more =) I used some direct quotes from the chapter about elessar in Unfinished Tales, and paraphrased others. Direct quotes:

The Elessar I leave with thee, for there are grievous hurts to Middle-earth which thou maybe shalt heal. But to none other shalt thou deliver it.”

But it is not for you to possess. You shall hand it on when the time comes. For before you grow weary, and at last forsake Middle-earth one shall come who is to receive it, and his name shall be that of the stone: Elessar he shall be called.”

And from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter I – Many Meetings:

An eagle-plume upon his crest, upon his breast an emerald...”

As a matter of fact it was all mine. Except that Aragorn insisted on my putting in a green stone. He seemed to think it important. I don’t know why. Otherwise he obviously thought the whole thing rather above my head, and he said that if I had the cheek to make verses about Eärendil in the house of Elrond, it was my affair. I suppose he was right.





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List