Chapter Text
"You're my one in five billion."
– The X-Files
City of Dale, 1st of November 2946 T.A.
For weeks, Vildan’s days in the saddle and his nights by the campfire were filled with images and dreams of his and Tauriel’s long-awaited reunion. It would be wonderful: Their hearts would leap when they would get that first glimpse, and Tauriel would look away thinking it was a dream, then her eyes would meet his and when she realized it was truly the Ellon she loved, she would stand, mouth agape for just a moment, then her face would light up with joy. He saw her in his mind’s eye, crying out then running to meet him, arms wide, ready to throw them around his neck. And he would pick her up, swing her around and both would weep for joy. And then, oh, then… Vildan would set her back on her feet and gaze into that beautiful, perfect face and Tauriel would smile up at him, unable to speak from the feelings they both shared. He would take her face in his hands and at last, at long last, he would kiss her. How would her lips feel against his? That thought alone kept him awake a great many nights since he’d met her, and finally, finally he would discover the sweetness of her lips.
And after, he would smile and introduce Tauriel to his child. Melui would grin and take her hand, and Tauriel would get down on one knee and look into the Elfling’s beautiful blue eyes and fall in love.
When their party reached the South Gates of Dale, the blood was pounding in his ears so that he barely heard Elrohir speak to the guards. With every step Hûrthenon took on the winding upward streets, Vildan’s heart slammed against his ribs in eager anticipation. With trembling hands, he pointed out various landmarks to Melui, who was taking in her surroundings.
“Is this our new home, Tôrano Vida?”
“This is Dale,” he smiled down at her. “What do you think of it?”
“It is different from Imladris,” she observed. “And very different from the Golden Wood! So many people! Are they nice?”
“They are. The Dalefolk and the Elves live together quite happily here, Mîrë nîn.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Do you think we will be happy?”
“I am certain of it, child. Tauriel will love you.”
At long last, they reached the top of the city and entered the courtyard. There were decorations on the dais of the Castle, and something going on in front of the Great Hall.
“They are having a party!” Elladan said.
“For us, you think?” Elrohir joked.
“Why not? We told them we were coming,” Elladan smiled over at him.
Vildan said nothing, but maneuvered Hûrthenon so they were behind the others. To observe things for another few seconds, he told himself.
There was a bit of a commotion on the columned platform in the front. A small crowd of faces, familiar and so dear the sight of them stung his eyes. Among them was a vision of loveliness in a beautiful blue dress with light green gems upon her brow that perfectly matched her eyes.
“Ceno! There she is!” he’d whispered in the child’s ear. “That is Tauriel. Is she not wonderful?”
He whipped off his hood and pulled back Melui’s.
Ten seconds later, his heart was burned into ash.
Several hours later, he sat between the twins, whose concern was obvious, as was their anger on his behalf. All were arguing, their voices rising as each tried to speak over the other. Something about one of Lord Thranduil’s crowns. Vildan wearily rubbed his forehead, then raised his hand.
“I received no letters,” he told the group.
At this, a thick silence fell, as Bard and the others took a moment to absorb this. “Not one?” he asked.
“No, Hír nîn.”
Outside the door, something crashed to the floor. It sounded like a dish, followed by some frantic whispering.
“Well, then it was Lady Galadriel to told you to come!” Hilda clapped her hands together with glee. “See? I knew writing to her was the better thing.” she leaned back and rested her hands on her stomach in satisfaction. “Like I always say, if you really want something done, talk to the womenfolk.”
“The Lord and Lady did not approach me,” Vildan said, apologetically, “It was I who went to them, just after you left.”
Elladan’s face was wrinkled in confusion, “Am I to assume you received no notice of our arrival?”
Bard shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Percy?”
“Nope.” Percy shook his head. “Galion?”
“I did not.” The Aide shook his head and turned to the Elvenking. “Did you, Thranduil?”
“I am afraid not.” Thranduil shook his head and cast an eye on Legolas. “Did you?”
“Nothing.” Legolas said, when all eyes turned to him. “I swear!”
“That would be true, My Lord,” Elrohir piped up. “There was no need to send a notice to the Palace because we did not come through the Woodland Realm. We went west, above the Brownlands and past East Bight.” His brow furrowed. “But we sent a message to notify you we were coming.”
“We also sent two others to notify you of our progress,” Elladan said. “You truly did not get them?”
Everyone around the table shook their heads.
“When did you begin your journey?” Thranduil asked, scrutinizing the group.
“We took leave of the Lord and Lady on the 6th of October,” Vildan said.
“But… but that was a full three days before I sent my letter!” Galion’s eyes rounded and his jaw went slack. “Even if I had not destroyed Tauriel’s envelope, you would not have gotten it anyway!”
“We didn’t get home until the 8th,” Bard said.
“And I gave Tauriel your letter that same day,” Thranduil said, with growing irritation. “Did we not agree that you should wait until you are summoned?”
“We did, but you see—"
“Wait a moment,” the thick, dark smears on Thranduil’s brow scrunched together. “If it was not anything we did, what was it that made you decide to come?”
“I…” Vildan swallowed down the nervous pain in his throat. “I do not honestly know. I simply woke up and knew Melui and I had to come. If I were to point to a specific sign, it was when I went to speak to Lady Galadriel, she seemed to understand and agree.”
“And we came to look after them,” Elrohir said. “It was my brother’s choice to go around the Greenwood—we were concerned that Vildan might not withstand the heavy sickness. And though Melui is certainly gifted, she is still a small child.”
“You must be exhausted, poor thing,” Hilda pulled back her chair. “I’ll have Greta set some rooms ready so you can get some rest.”
“If I may,” Galion raised his hand. “I’ve spoken to Rôgon, and he agrees that Vildan and Melui should stay with us.” Galion nodded to the twins. “Freya is making up rooms for you, as well. Forgive me for taking the liberty, but I thought it might help Tauriel to come home sooner.”
“An excellent suggestion, if you are willing?” Thranduil asked.
Vildan’s shoulders slumped, eyes down. “That would be fine, thank you,” he said dully. Truthfully, he didn’t care where he ended up. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing except Melui, and she would be comfortable at Galion’s house.
“We thank you,” Elladan bowed his head at Galion, “I would like to stay near Vildan; he has had a shock.”
“Vildan?”
He lifted his eyes from the table to meet Bard’s eyes.
“I know things didn’t turn out how you expected,” Bard said. “But we want you here, and we think Tauriel does, too.” He gave Vildan an encouraging smile. “We can be a right sneaky bunch,” his arm swept across the table. “We’re noisy and ridiculous, and half the time we don’t know if we’re coming or going.” Bard’s eyes darted to the corner of the room, where Tara was fast asleep between Violet, her stuffed pig, and Meryl, who lay on her back, snoring. [1] “And pets only add to the chaos, but I hope that doesn’t scare you off.”
The King of Dale gave him an apologetic grin. “What I’m trying to say is, welcome to the family, son.”
Vildan said with unenthused politeness. “De mhilui, Hír nîn.”
Then everyone was on their feet. Hilda was the first to reach Vildan and give him a hard hug. “You’re one of us now,” she said. “Don’t you worry about Tauriel; we’ll talk her round. That girl loves you!”
“Elleth,” Elrohir corrected.
“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, and just to be cheeky, she pinched the son of Elrond’s cheek.
“But what,” Galion said, “happened to all the letters?”
***
Halls of Waiting, first week of October, the Tapestry room
Earenen az eleninen! What is that Elf thinking?
Vairë, Weaver of the Tapestry of the World, stepped back from her work with a sigh. [2] This was just not right, and something needed to be done. But what?
A rustle of skirts behind her made her turn to see her sister-in-law, Nienna, enter the chamber, weeping and wiping her eyes.[3]
“What is it, dearest?” Vairë went to her, put a supporting arm around her shoulder and helped her to sit on one of the cushioned benches nearby.
“I have been to see Maedhros again.” [4]
“And?”
“He remains as despondent as when he first came to us,” Nienna sobbed. “I cannot bear it, Verressë. The vow he made to his father forced him into a life he never wanted.” She swiped her silk handkerchief over her eyes as dull, greyish jewels fell to the floor with a tinking sound. “He is drowning in regret and shame for the lives he destroyed, and Maedhros insists that is penance is to remain alone.
“I have tried countless times to explain that we know his heart.” Nienna said, waving her handkerchief. “He made the vow to please his father, as did the rest of his brothers. Fëanor had no right to demand such a terrible thing! His children longed for his affection and approval their entire lives, and he enjoyed the power of that!”
“He certainly did,” Vairë pursed her lips in a disapproving frown. “I hope you have stopped trying with Fëanor; it will get you nowhere.” She searched their surroundings, in case Míriel was out of earshot. “Although, keep that to yourself, please; Míriel loves her son and to convince her he is beyond redemption is useless.” [5]
At this, Nienna sniffled and straightened her spine. “Yet let us not give up hope, sister. While it is true he may not be released until the end of Arda, that tapestry has not been woven yet. He could learn humility in that time.”
Vairë patted her hand. “I truly admire your optimism. And perhaps I am being hasty. In the meantime, what can be done about Maedhros? How can I help?”
“I wish I knew,” Nienna shook her head. “Fingon loves him and longs to see him, and I am tempted to ignore Maedhros’s wishes and ask my brother to allow it.”
“Then do it.”
Nienna blinked up at her. “What?”
“Go to my husband and ask him,” she said. “And if he refuses, then open the gate yourself.”
“Sister!” Nienna cried, her eyes bulging. “You do astound me! What brought this spirit of rebellion?”
Vairë rolled her eyes and pointed to the tapestry. “That.”
“What?”
“Right there,” she walked to the fabric and pointed to a small piece of wool. “Do you see?”
Nienna rose, gave her eyes one last swipe and stepped over to the frame. “I do not understand. Is that not—”
“It most certainly is,” Vairë said with impatience. “And I am not pleased at all.”
“Why is the child Melui still in Lothlorien? Should she not be—”
“Yes, she should.” Vairë said. “The hesitation is not Vildan’s, that is obvious.” Vairë ran her finger along the line and followed it up. “The Elvenking’s foster-daughter is afraid.”
“But why?” Nienna’s silver brows drew together. “Did you not give Melui your personal protection, so we do not have a repeat of the disaster that was Lusiël?” [6]
“I do not think that matters,” Vairë crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Her fear mostly comes from her own self-doubt. She is using the child as an excuse because she fears love.”
“I do not understand.”
“She has forgiven the King for his neglect of her as a child, but that does not mean that she was not affected badly by it.”
“So,” Nienna studied the tapestry, “Tauriel knows the pain the child feels. But I was sure they would bond over what they have in common! Both have lost their parents under tragic circumstances. Yet both will grow up with families born out of love, not just by birth.”
“That was my plan,” Vairë threw up her hands with a frustrated sigh. “I am at a loss. Melui must go to the North.” She tapped her forefinger against her chin. “Well, just as we agreed that intervention is necessary for Maedhros, so I fear one is needed here.”
Having made her decision, she took hold of the length of wool and gave it a good yank. It ripped away from the cloth with some difficulty, but once done, Vairë drew her golden scissors from her pocket and snipped it right off.
“Á! Man carnel?” Nienna’s hand flew to her mouth. “What will Námo say?”
“What my husband does not know will not hurt him.” Vairë was busy at her table, sorting through a basket of multi-colored wool. “There is a saying Tulkas likes to use: ‘Be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid.” [7] She said as she foraged, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “Now, where did I put it… Ah yes! Here it is!” she held up another length in triumph, full of cheerful hues. She quickly took her needle and filled in the gap. “There,” she took a step back and examined her work. “This is much better.”
“But,” Nienna said nervously, “what can you do about the letters they have sent?”
“Do not worry,” Vairë’s smile grew wider. “What you do not know will not hurt you, either!”
“I can accept that,” Nienna nodded. “I do not want to know. Yet I fear more will need to be done to soothe Tauriel’s fears.”
“This is true,” Vairë turned to the other Vala. “That is where you come in.”
“Me? I am not sure—”
“Neldor and Solana are still here, yes?” [8]
“Yes, but they are due to leave for Aman very soon.”
“There is still time to persuade them to help their daughter, then.” She turned her sister-in-law around and shoved her toward the archway. “Hurry!”
***
City of Dale, 2nd of November 2946 T.A.
After the tumultuous meeting in King Bard’s offices, Vildan was so weary he could barely understand what Elladan was saying as they walked him to Galion’s house. In one of the guest rooms was a wide bed, puffy with down covers and pillows, and more than big enough for Melui to sleep with him. For that he was grateful.
While Galadriel and Mithrandir had demonstrated some of Melui’s inherited talents, she was still a small child who needed her Tôrano Vida to comfort her as her surroundings changed almost daily. Hopefully once they were settled—wherever they settled—she would feel secure enough for her own bed, but for now, he didn’t mind. Perhaps he needed her solid presence just as much.
“I will bring you a tray, and then you will rest,” Elladan said, as he helped Vildan out of his armor and into a night shirt and sleeping pants. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”
Once Vildan had finished his sandwich and drink (water, no wine) he slept for over twelve hours oblivious to Melui’s presence that night, nor her exit in the morning. When he came down the stairs Rôgon and Melui were chattering away at the kitchen table, as she fussed over Galion’s cat. Lorda had attempted to sit on the table, but only because he thought it amusing to upset Rôgon. He settled nicely into the child’s lap and purred his approval as she stroked his back.
“Good morrow,” Vildan leaned down to kiss his child. “Did you sleep well?”
Melui nodded cheerfully. “You did not know I was there.” She smiled up at him approvingly. “You look better, Vida.”
“I feel better,” he stroked her hair. As he picked up his plate and filled it with fruit, he asked, “Where are the twins?”
“They are down at the barracks with Legolas,” Rôgon told him. “As I understand it, Lord Thranduil will be joining them later for some entertainment in the practice rings.”
Vildan nodded, and before he could stop himself, he asked, “And do you know where Lady Tauriel is?”
“Still at Erebor, I am afraid.” Rôgon’s eyes were compassionate. “Her fathers and Lady Hilda are rather up in arms.”
“But Vida,” Melui asked, eyes wide, “I thought Tauriel liked you.”
“She did, child,” Rôgon said, and rested his gaze upon Vildan, saying firmly. “She does, I am sure of it.”
“Dailên?” Vildan smiled down at Melui and stroked her hair. “Can you go upstairs and change into some leggings?”
“But I cannot tie them, Tôrano Vida,” she reminded him with a slight frown.
“No matter,” he said. “Do what you can, and I will be up in a moment to help you into your boots.”
“But why?”
“I thought it might be nice to walk to the market square to see some old friends. Then we can go see Mistanâr and her foal. What do you think of that?”
Beaming, the Elfling scrambled off her chair and raced upstairs.
Vildan traced her movements with keen, loving eyes, but a heavy heart. In the hours since Tauriel had rejected him—for that was the only thing her reaction could be—his heartache had turned to anger. After all he’d been through, to see her run away from him sapped what little hope he’d managed to regain in the last year.
“It does not matter what Tauriel feels anymore.”
“You cannot mean that,” Rôg’s gaze grew intense. “If you can just be patient—”
“Patient?” Vildan’s lip curled. “I am the one who must be patient now? Can any of you fully understand what this past year has been like for me? All the physical and emotional pain I’ve had to endure to keep going when all hope was lost?” He huffed a laugh. “I was a fool to think there was anything for me here.” He wiped his mouth and threw down his napkin. “I thank you for breakfast,” he said as he stood.
“What are you going to do?” Rôgon asked, his face full of apprehension.
“I will ask King Thranduil for permission to stay at the palace for the winter. In the spring, we will cross the mountains and make our home in Rivendell once more.”
“But you cannot—”
Vildan held up his hand with sad resolution. “I am grateful for the welcome you all have given us, Mellon nîn. Truly I am. But I came for Tauriel, and Melui and I have no intention of staying here if this is not what she wants.”
“She—”
“No!” Vildan snapped, his voice too harsh. “Forgive me.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I appreciate that everyone wanted this to work out, but no one can lead Tauriel’s heart where she does not wish it to go.” His shoulders drooped a little. “It is little more than wishful thinking on all your parts, can you not see that? If she truly wanted me, her reaction would have been much different.”
“But you do not know that for certain,” Rôgon pleaded with him.
“Do you?” Vildan lowered his gaze to his plate, where his breakfast was barely touched. “Galion said he destroyed Tauriel’s letter. But did he read it first?”
“He said he did not,” Rôg admitted. “He felt awkward enough writing in her name and said it did not matter anyway.”
“But Tauriel’s wishes do matter! How do you think she will react when she learns what you all have done? She will feel betrayed and manipulated.”
Upstairs, there was a muffled sound of a boot falling on the floor followed by Melui’s tinkling laugh. Rôgon’s eyes raised to the ceiling. “The cat must be playing with her.” His eyes rested on Vildan once more. “We only wanted to help,” he said. “Had not others intervened with Galion and I, we would not have the life we have now.” [9]
“Even if it was done out of love,” Vildan swallowed. “I believe you and the rest of her family have done Tauriel a great disservice.”
“But Galion said you were compelled to come!” Rôgon spread his hands in worry.
“I was. But perhaps I misunderstood. That must be why you received no notice of our arrival. Perhaps the reason had nothing to do with Tauriel, that I was meant to come here to reclaim my horses.” He shook his head. “By all accounts, Trastapîn is said to be very special, that she was born for a higher purpose. Maybe I am supposed to take her to a place of safety in either Lothlórien or Imladris.”
“That is only a guess,” Rôgon disagreed. “What if you are wrong?”
“What if I am not?” he retorted. “When Tauriel ran away from me, my heart, my hopes, and all my dreams shattered to dust. Again. Again!” He slammed his hands down on the table, making the dishes rattle. “I have been through too much, and have not the strength to risk my heart again, lest I fade. Who will look after Melui then?”
“Oh, Vildan…” Rôg said sadly.
On the way to the barns, Vildan realized his anger was mostly aimed at himself. You are a lovesick fool, he thought. It was just a dream. He was an even greater fool for telling Melui of Dale and making her believe that this would be their new home. That was his fault; he’d not been cautious when telling her of his plans, and now she would face yet another loss another disappointment in her short life. How will he make it up to her?
“Tôrano Vida, you are going too fast!” Melui complained, on their way to the stables. He’d had her by the hand, and as he stomped through the streets, he hadn’t realized he was dragging her.
“Ai, gorgor! Forgive me,” he forced a smile and picked her up. “Are you excited to see Mistanâr again?”
“Yes!” she threw up her arms. “Is it there?” she pointed to the long, stone building adjacent to the city wall.
“It is,” he said, letting the anticipation of seeing his beloved companion overshadow the events of the last day. Truly, Mistanâr was more worthy of his love and loyalty, for never had she betrayed him. Animals oftentimes made better people than people.
He smiled to the stable attendant, who picked up a pitchfork and waved them in. “I heard you came, sir!” he said. “The Mearas are in the second-last box stalls on the right,” the man said with a lopsided grin. “You’ll see. That little filly is a rare beauty. Just make sure you mind her guards there,” he waved toward the three large white dogs lying across from Mistanâr.
“They have guard dogs?”
“Oh, aye. After the shenanigans last March, the Kings bought those three off Farmer Jarvis, and they’ve not left the young ‘un since. Just make sure to let ‘em know you’re friend, not foe, and it’ll be fine.” [10] With a mischievous smile, the man left the barn.
They stepped inside and as they made their way down the wide breezeway, an all-too familiar whinny rang through the air.
There she was, beautiful as ever! And when Vildan finally laid eyes on her, he understood just how much he had missed her. “Mistanâr!” he cried.
The horse rushed the gate with a loud cry and nibbled at his face and shoulder for a moment, then turned away to proudly show him the foal.
“She is so pretty!” Melui squealed and stretched out her hand—
There was a gasp from the last stall in the line was the dark stallion Vildan knew so well. Lasbelin, the father of this pearlescent foal. And coming around him into view was his rider.
She stepped around her stallion’s rump and came fully into view, dressed in riding togs and her hair done down her back in a braid.
Vildan and Tauriel stared at each other, neither knowing what to say.
Melui looked back and forth between them, not nervous or upset, but curious. Then she turned back to wave at Trastapîn, who was coming toward the child with slow, hesitant steps.
Vildan’s surprise seeped out of him, now replaced with anger. He had come all this way, curse it, and was done asking her for anything. The decision was made.
“No,” he said softly, mostly to himself. “No more.”
“Come along, Melui,” he said, and stalked away, leaving Tauriel still frozen in place. “We will see the horses later. Now we must go and speak with the Kings.”
He was twenty feet from the entrance when he heard a low whistle. A second later, both doors slammed shut, and the scrape of a beam of wood fitting into metal holders meant there was no escape. He whipped around to study the windows, but there was another low whistle. As one, every window along the top of the barns were shuttered from the outside, and the latches went down.
ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Á! Man carnel? – (Quenya) Oh! What have you done?
Ceno! – Look!
Dailên – “Little Beauty,” Vildan’s nickname for his niece, Melui.
Earenen az eleninen! –By the sea and stars!
Mîrë nîn – My precious jewel
Verressë – (Quenya) Sister-in-law
Rista-Goeol – “Terrible Severing” The pain from losing a bond-mate. If this happens after they marry, after their fëas become one, it can be a dangerous thing; the spouse will often need to sail, to keep from fading, or, if they stay, he or she will feel the hollow place forever.
NOTES:
[1] SCOM, Ch. 44: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090521/chapters/112286809
[2] https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Vair%C3%AB
[3] https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Nienna
[4] https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Maedhros
[5] https://tolkiengatew https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090521/chapters/82343623ay.net/wiki/M%C3%ADriel
[6] SCOM, Ch. 22: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090521/chapters/82343623
[7] https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Tulkas
[8] Tauriel’s birth parents. AWC…, Ch. 7: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/27875265
[9] Legolas, Ion nîn, Ch. 35: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088320/chapters/46563850
[10] SCOM, Ch. 23: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090521/chapters/82748683