THE RINGS OF EVENDIM

Chapter Three: The Memorial

Pippin poured out his tale, reaching up and touching Gandalf’s knee with trembling hands. “Can’t you save Faramir?”
‘The Pyre of Denethor’, The Return of the King

Frodo opened his eyes to see Pippin smiling down at him expectantly. For a moment it seemed that all the years past had never been, and Bilbo had sent his young, exuberant cousin, on one of his visits to Bag End, to wake him for breakfast.

“Good morning, Pippin,” Frodo said. “You look as happy as a youngster at Yule.”

“That’s how I feel,” Pippin said. “I’m so glad we’re here; aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Frodo said with a smile. “Seeing Aragorn again… well, it’s wonderful. It does my heart good to see how much the people love him. And this city! Oh Pip, you can’t imagine how little the Dwarves had to work with when they agreed to rebuild.” He sniffed the air. “I haven’t missed breakfast, have I?”

“Not yet,” Pippin laughed. “But the children are up, and clamoring to be fed. Frodo-lad and Rose-lass asked if I couldn’t please wake up Uncle Frodo, so here I am.”

Frodo stretched and yawned, and hopped out of bed with the nimbleness of a lad. The room was streaming with sunlight, and the sound of the fountains reminded him of Rivendell.

“Is Sam cooking?” he asked hopefully.

“The Queen’s ladies beat him to it,” Pippin said. “I suspect Sam’ll insist on taking over the kitchen by tonight, though; there’s only so long he can bear to be waited on, as you know!” He opened his pocket watch for a quick glance, then started for the door. “I’ll meet everyone in the dining room; there are a few things I need to see to.” He walked out, whistling.

Frodo quickly washed and dressed, then made his way to the guesthouse’s spacious dining room where Sam, Merry, and Gimli were just sitting down at the large table. The children, already seated and nibbling on toasted bread, cheered loudly as Frodo entered. Their enthusiastic greetings brought two young women from the kitchen. They smiled at Frodo, and curtseyed.

“Good morning, Mister Baggins,” they chorused.

“Good morning, Lireth, ’morning, Siriel,” Frodo said. “Please call me ‘Frodo’.”

The previous evening, Arwen had introduced them to the sisters who had travelled north with her, both of whom wore a delicate bracelet similar to the one she had given Elanor. They attended the Queen’s school for children orphaned by the War, and Arwen had offered the ablest students the opportunity to travel north with the royal party.

“We were the only ones brave enough to say ‘Yes’,” brown-haired Lireth had said proudly.

“We were so excited!” the younger, golden-haired Siriel had added. “We’ve seen so much, and have travelled and been farther than anyone we know.”

The young women got on well with the hobbits and Gimli, who were pleased to see that they served them as they did the Queen – not as timid servants, but out of respect and an eagerness to learn.

Pippin finally arrived, and was pulled down into a seat by his adoring namesake, young Pippin Gamgee. Siriel and Lireth hurried back to the kitchen, and returned pushing a cunning, wheeled cart containing covered dishes and platters.

“Thank you, ladies,” Sam said. He motioned to two of the empty chairs. “Won’t you join us?”

“Oh, we couldn’t, Sir Sam,” Siriel said, wide eyed. She looked at her sister, who was grinning. “Could we?”

“We would love to,” Lireth said with a laugh. “King Elessar said that you might ask, sir.”

“Just ‘Sam’, if you please,” Sam said. He’d grown used to ‘Mr. Mayor’, but ‘Sir’… that was hard to hear, and always would be.

It was a merry meal, with the sisters answering many questions for Elanor. The children enjoyed the novelty of being able to explain the Shire and its residents to folks who had never seen it… and, because of the King’s edict nine years before, never would.

“We’ve met other hobbits and Dwarves,” Lireth said. “A few hobbits have stalls at the market with the most interesting trade goods and delicious foods, and of course there are Dwarves everywhere, building and sculpting; the city’s nowhere near finished. Rangers who remained in the North or returned after the War are beginning to bring their families here to settle. Queen Arwen has encouraged us to meet everyone we can.”

“Speaking of delicious foods, everything tastes wonderful,” Gimli said, helping himself to more scrambled eggs and sausage.

“Aren’t these lovely eggs, Uncle Gimli?” Elanor asked. “Lireth told us that the King and Queen have made so many purchases at the market and from the farms, the folk here wish they could visit every year.”

“I know where all these mushrooms came from,” Frodo said, sending the dish around the table for the third time. “I saw a big field of them when Aragorn and Elladan and I were here years ago. That’s where that idea for an inn came from – The Hobbit, The Elf, and the Ranger.”

“We found that last night,” Merry said with a grin. “While you and Sam stayed with the children, Pip, Gimli, and I rode back into town and did some exploring.”

“And after the first couple of inns,” said Pippin enthusiastically, “we discovered The Seven Fathers. That’s a favorite of the Dwarves, and Gimli met up with lots of old friends and relations.”

“It was a most boisterous reunion,” Gimli said with great satisfaction. “It was a very long journey to get here, but well worth it.”

Sam and Merry got up to help clear the dishes, but Lireth gently dissuaded them.

“It’s our honor to assist you,” she said. “Thank you for telling us so much about the Shire.”

Pippin stood up. “We’re going to be late,” he announced. “Shall we go?”

“You keep saying that, Pip,” Merry said with a laugh. “I’m going to have to hide that pocket watch while we’re here; you’ve never been this conscientious in all your misbegotten life.”

“Our ponies are being brought around for us at 9:30, and it’s nearly that now,” Pippin explained. “The King wants us to meet him near the lake, where the old Ranger shelter used to be; he said you’d remember where it is, Frodo.”

“I think I can find the place again,” Frodo said. “Is everyone coming?”

“We’re supposed to bring the children to see it.”

“See what?” asked Merry.

“I’m not quite sure,” Pippin said, herding them all out the door. “Whatever it is, let’s not keep the King waiting.”

Frodo and Merry exchanged fond glances. Being a knight of Gondor, once only a title and fond memory for Pippin, was now a reality. They had never seen him so happy and fulfilled in all his life.

The hobbits rode back over the bridge, with Gimli contentedly driving the cart filled with children. As they approached the enormous, sparkling lake, Frodo began orienting himself.

“The little house where the Rangers used to stay was right around here,” he said at last, pointing up ahead. “It was just a run-down...” He stared in amazement at the beautiful building now sitting on the site of the old shelter. It was crafted of golden stone that glittered in the morning sun, flanked by pillars of highly-polished wood. Some of the townsfolk and merchants were standing outside, apparently waiting for them, along with the few Northfarthing hobbits who had come to Annúminas to visit or trade. When they saw Frodo and his companions approaching, they clapped and cheered.

The party came to a halt at a large stone standing prominently near the entrance of the building. An engraved bronze plaque had been mounted on its smooth face, and the youngest children asked Gimli to read the words to them.

“Ahem,” Gimli said, realizing at once the importance of the monument. “Listen carefully, now.”

THROUGH THE DEEDS OF MANY
EMERGES PEACE.
PRAISE THEM
LEST WE FORGET
THE COURAGE SHOWN
AND SACRIFICES MADE
TO ENSURE FREEDOM AND SECURITY
FOR GENERATIONS YET UNBORN.
THUS DOES THE FOURTH AGE BEGIN
IN LIGHT AND HOPE.

“Look at that!” Frodo gasped, pointing. The sign mounted above the entrance of the building read:

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING

Suddenly there was a rustle and murmur in the small crowd as the King rode up to join them. He was dressed in simple garb, but wore the circlet bearing its bright gem adorning his brow.

“Good morning, my friends,” he said, dismounting. “Shall we enter?”

The hobbits dismounted, and Gimli and Sam helped the children down from the cart. Their hearts pounding, they followed the King inside. The room at first appeared to be empty, but suddenly everyone realized that an enormous and intricate map of Middle-earth had been painstakingly carved into the walls. Only Frodo, Merry, and the King had seen such a detailed map before, in Master Elrond’s grand library.

“That’s our journey!” exclaimed Merry, pointing out the labelled lines and paths shown on the map. “There’s yours, Frodo and Sam, and Gimli, there’s where you and Legolas and Aragorn came after Pip and me when the Orcs had us.”

“There’s the fire mountain,” Sam said, showing the children where Orodruin had stood. They gazed avidly at the spot, thinking about the stories their Dad and uncles had told them.

Frodo stood gazing at the carved shoreline of the Grey Havens, with the Sea painted a deep blue.

“Perhaps someday we’ll take the children there,” he murmured. “I should like to see it again.”

“I would, as well,” Merry said quietly.

“Where’s Bag End, Dad?” asked young Merry. Sam showed his children where the Shire lay in relation to the Outside Lands, and the young ones were amazed to see how far from home they had travelled.

“Where are we now?” Rose-lass asked, and the King pointed to Lake Evendim.

“And what’s up there?” Elanor asked, her eyes travelling to the top of the map and its blank, empty spaces. “Does the world end?”

“Nay, it does not end,” Elessar assured her. “If you go far enough, the world bends back upon itself until you end where you began. Far to the north, Elanor, is Forochel, a land of snow and ice about which little is known. It was inhabited by the Ice Men who aided King Arvedui when he was cold and hungry.”

“Why do you say ‘was’?” Merry asked curiously. “Are they all dead?”

“I do not know; they have not been seen or heard from in a very long time.”

“What did they look like?” Pippin asked. “Would they know there’s a king again?”

“Those are excellent questions, Pippin,” Elessar said, “and perhaps someday we will learn the answers. But for now…” He gazed down at the group with great fondness, but also a sense of gravity. “We have a memorial in Minas Tirith that is very grand. It holds mementos that are reverenced greatly which I very much hope you will see someday. But I requested that this northern capital also have a place for people to visit, to be reminded of those who brought about peace and the downfall of the Dark Lord.” He gestured that they enter the inner chamber. “There will be much more to see eventually, but for now… this is a beginning.”

Frodo took a deep breath, then he and the others went into the second room. Mounted on the walls were portraits, nine in all. In stunned silence, he and the others gazed about them, tears filling their eyes at the sight.

“Gandalf,” Pippin whispered, reaching up to lay a gentle hand on the wizard’s image. “We miss you so much.”

“It’s you, Dad!” Elanor exclaimed, running up to see the portrait of her father. “And there’s Uncle Frodo, and…”

“All of us,” the King said quietly. His own portrait showed him as Strider, depicted as the hobbits had first seen him. Below each painting was mounted a long scroll, low enough for children to read, explaining the deeds of each member of the Fellowship during the War of the Ring. There were benches and chairs, large and small, to accommodate any who came to visit. Elanor was fascinated, and avidly read each scroll in turn.

“Who’s that?” Rose-lass asked, standing beneath one of the paintings.

“Boromir,” Frodo said, coming to stand next to her. “He saved our lives in the snow of Caradhras. He loved his home the way we do, Rose.”

Merry was watching Frodo carefully, relieved that he saw no pain or bitterness on his cousin’s face.

Gimli, reading the scroll beneath his portrait, harrumphed in embarrassment, but looked pleased nonetheless.

“But this isn’t right,” Pippin said suddenly, reading part of his own scroll. “This part says that thanks to me, the returning king was welcomed and honored, as he might not have been otherwise.”

“Do not underestimate your contributions, Pippin,” said Elessar. “Even after our deeds at the Black Gate, how many would have truly accepted an upstart Ranger of the North as King after a thousand years, had Faramir perished with his father? With Denethor and Boromir gone, and Gandalf under some suspicion based on the mistrust sowed by Denethor, there would have been no one of rank remaining, whom the people trusted, to relinquish Minas Tirith to my rule. Imrahil would have found it nearly impossible to convince the populace of my claim. Had you not taken the actions you did, there would have been no Steward to welcome me into the City with respect, love, and ceremony; I would have entered it formally not hailed by all as King, but suspected, by some forever, as no more than a conquerer.  Faramir is dear to me, and to all the people.  That he lives to enjoy and contribute to the days of peace I count as a special blessing.”

Pippin was staring up at him, an awestruck look upon his face.

“And so, my young knight,” Elessar said gently, “You are honored not just for your deeds, and service to Gondor and the Ring-bearers, but for your place in history. The Thain you are, to the great good of the Shire, but a Knight of the City you are as well, to the great good of Minas Tirith. And to the great happiness of we who know you best, and love you.” He knelt to wipe the tears of joy that were streaming down Pippin’s face, and embraced him.

“And now that we have that settled,” Elessar said, rising to his feet, “I believe there is a boat waiting to take the children fishing and to tour the lake… if that is all right with you, Sam. Several of my most trusted men will go along to see to their safety. They will be given second breakfast and luncheon, of course.”

“Please, Dad, please?” the younger children begged. Elanor looked excited, as well.

“Very well,” Sam relented. “But how any children of mine are so eager to go a-boating is beyond me.”

“I’d like to come back here,” Elanor told the King, as they left the Memorial and emerged back into the sunlight. “Thank you for making sure that Dad and Uncle Frodo and everyone aren’t forgotten, sir.”

“They won’t be, Maid Elanor,” said Elessar, causing the young girl to blush. “Do you think your mother will enjoy seeing this?”

“Oh yes,” Elanor enthused. “That painting of Dad all dressed up so fine, and reading what he did… it’s like Uncle Frodo’s book.”

“You wrote a book, Frodo?” Elessar asked softly. “I would very much like to read it.”

“Perhaps that can be arranged,” Frodo said enigmatically. “Aragorn, do you have many duties today? We haven’t really had any time to talk, or catch up.”

“I am at your service,” Elessar said. “Arwen and I will be here for many months; there will be much time to dispense such justice as the townsfolk and farmers request, ensure that there are sufficient schools and apprenticeships underway, consult further with the Dwarves, tour the countryside, organize the new Bounders – hobbits and Men alike – and see to the many things a new city requires.”

“That should keep you busy enough,” Pippin said with a laugh.

“It should indeed,” Elessar agreed. ”Frodo, why don’t we show our companions Elendil’s ancient chamber?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that again!” Frodo said enthusiastically.

The King smiled in anticipation. “I believe you will be pleased at what awaits you there.”

** TBC **