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Capturing a Star

Chapter 1: A Queen's Regret

by Shirebound
August 7 - October 6, 2019

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“I wonder we don't see nothing of the Lord and Lady in all these days.  I fancy now that she could do some wonderful things, if she had a mind.  I'd dearly love to see some Elf-magic, Mr. Frodo!”
‘The Mirror of Galadriel’, The Fellowship of the Ring


Young Pilin, one of the newly-appointed pages of the King, ran swiftly through the market, heedless of the shopkeepers who called out to him to slow down lest he upset one of the carts.  Like the arrow for which he was named, he sped unerringly to where he had been told the King would be found – at the site of the large, sunken garden the Dwarves had begun excavating in the Fifth Circle.

He rounded the last corner and spotted the King, consulting with Lord Gimli. The Dwarf, whose beard was full of sparkling dust from a piece of ornamental stone he was crafting, was gesturing with one hand while effortlessly holding in the other an enormous hammer.

“A message from the Queen, my liege!” the boy gasped, coming to a halt before his sovereign. 

Elessar turned to the boy. “Catch your breath, lad,” he said kindly. “What words do you bring from my Lady?”

“The wagons from the north that arrived this morning have brought packages and letters from the Shire,” the boy told him. “They have been delivered to the Queen, who asks that you and Lord Gimli join her for the noon meal.”

The King smiled happily. “We will gladly do so. Thank you, Pilin.”

Every time the boy heard the King speak his name, Pilin's eyes glowed with joy. Many were the tales sung or spoken of the War of the Ring, and he never forgot his great fortune to have been born in this Age of peace, serving a king who cared for every subject equally.

“Here, lad,” Aragorn said, handing the boy a coin from a pouch at his waist. “Bearing messages, especially at the speed at which you do so, is hungry work. After you relay my response to the Queen, you may stop for second breakfast before returning to your post.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Pilin grinned, looking forward to a visit to The Ithil Inn. Every child enjoyed hearing stories about hobbits and their love of meals, and introducing the concept of ‘second breakfast’ to the City was one of the many ways King Elessar honored their traditions. 

He bowed low to the King, then to Gimli, before racing back towards the Citadel.

“You spoil those lads, Aragorn,” Gimli said with a chuckle.

“Perhaps,” Elessar said. “But pages like Pilin, who work hard and take their duties quite seriously, should be encouraged. I can scarcely let the lad starve.”

“Hah!” Gimli chortled, tossing aside the hammer and shaking out his beard. “The day someone goes hungry in your kingdom, I’ll wake up with the furred feet of a hobbit.”

Elessar instinctively glanced down at Gimli’s boots, wondering idly what Dwarf feet did look like, before clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Come, let us return to the Citadel.  I look forward to seeing what our friends have sent us! I’ve grown quite fond of receiving gifts for their birthdays; Sam’s was just last month, I believe.”

“Parcels are arriving much more quickly now that the roads have been seen to,” Gimli said approvingly. “My journey north with my kinfolk should be a smooth one.”

“The way is not short, but every mile will bring you closer to our dear friends in the Shire,” Elessar said wistfully. “I envy you your visit with them, Gimli. Never again will I see that fair land, save from afar in the Seeing Stone. But you will be my eyes and my emissary, and bring the hobbits as many gifts as your cart can bear.”

“They know you love them, Aragorn,” Gimli said quietly. “There is no greater gift.”

~*~

When Elessar and Gimli strode into the small dining chamber favored by Arwen, they found her standing at one of the broad, west-facing windows which afforded such a striking view of Mount Mindolluin. She was turned away from them, holding the pages of what appeared to be a letter. Nearby, the lid of a large crate had been pried open to reveal a number of parcels of various sizes, all carefully padded to prevent breakage. When Arwen turned towards them, the smile on her husband’s face died when he saw her troubled look. His heart clenched with fear as he strode to her side.

“What is it, beloved?” he asked, gazing down at the pages in her hand. “Is is Frodo? Has he--”

“Oh Estel, forgive me,” Arwen said, instantly perceiving the source of his distress. “Frodo is well. All of our friends are well. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Elessar sighed with relief as Arwen embraced him, drawing comfort, as always, from her touch. Someday, he knew, news from the Shire would bear sad tidings, but… not now. Not yet.

Gimli stood in the doorway, and the Queen gestured him forward.

“Come in, Gimli,” she said warmly. “Everything is all right. Let us dine, after which you and Estel can both read Sam’s letter. He sends greetings for you, as well.”

“I will join you after I wash my hands and brush out my beard, Lady,” Gimli said, eyeing with delight the table laden with food. “And if there is any of that fine ale about the place, I will thank you!”

~*~

Luncheon finished, Elessar sat reading quietly. He reached the last page of the letter Sam had sent, full of news of the Shire, Bag End, Frodo, and the many children of whom he and Rose were very proud. He looked up at Gimli with a smile.

“Take this letter with you to your chamber when you leave,” he said. “Reading it will bring you pleasure.  The hobbits are greatly anticipating your visit, my friend.” He turned to Arwen. “What did you read that caused you distress?”

“You will think me silly,” Arwen said, a bit embarrassed. “The third page, here. Read this part again.”

Elessar read, out loud this time, the passage to which she was pointing.

You asked to hear more about Frodo-lad, and whether it’s been hard on him to grow up with Frodo’s name. You needn't worry as he seems quite proud of it, and that’s a fact. You last saw him when you visited the lake, when he was but 13, and with all the excitement of the Ice Men and their big dogs, and Elanor being honored by Queen Arwen and all, you may not have been able to spend much time getting to know him.

He’s a remarkable lad – well, lad in name only now, as he comes of age this summer! – and different from his brothers and sisters. He’s grown to be quiet and serious-like, never one to tattle or tell secrets when trusted with them. He took to book learning like Frodo and Mr. Bilbo did, and has read over and over the tale of our adventures. In particular, he can never hear enough about what I’ve always called Elvish magic, if Queen Arwen will forgive that expression.  He asks endless questions I can scarcely answer about swords that glow, trees that shine of their own light, and especially Lady Galadriel’s star-glass, which absolutely fascinates him every time Frodo lets him hold it. He’s spent many hours trying to figure out how anyone could capture the light of a star in that glass, and a few years ago he even set in one of our gardens a basin such as the Lady had that she called her Mirror. Now don’t think by what I’m saying that Frodo-lad’s lost in fantasy thoughts or neglects his chores, or isn’t the kindest and most considerate child two parents could ask for. It’s just that I think he finds the Shire rather lacking in the magic he reads about, and wishes he could do something about it. Can you imagine a hobbit thinking about things like that?

He’s been seeing a good deal of a charming lass named Hollyhock Burrows, and if things go as we think they might, another wedding could be coming up in a year or so. Gimli will meet her when he visits. The children are so excited that Uncle Gimlis coming! I wrote him to prepare to be surrounded by pups everywhere he goes, as they’re as numerous on the Row as dragon gold in a hoard. Every single one can be traced back to dear Scamp, who I know you remember with great fondness.  We'll try to keep them all out of Gimli's room so he can get some rest after his long trip...

Elessar stopped reading and looked up to see Gimli grinning, but when he glanced at his wife, Arwen had that same pensive look as when they had first seen her at the window.

“I sense no ill news here,” Elessar said.  “Help me to understand what troubles you.”

“It is a wonderful letter, full of happiness and a father’s pride in his children,” Arwen agreed, “and yet... it strikes me how much more I could have learned from Grandmother during all my years living in her realm. Would it not have been a wonderful thing for us to gift young Frodo with a phial of starlight of his own? He seems to desire one so.  I regret that I have not the skill to craft such a thing.”

Elessar frowned. “I would not have you feel discontented, my love. Your gifts are more numerous than I could name. Remember that Galadriel learned wisdom and lore during her time with Melian, one of the Maiar, and bore the Elven Ring of Water in its full potency to aid in her endeavors.”

“I know,” Arwen said. “Still, I mourn all that is now lost, both knowledge and skill. The Age of Men is upon us, and the Elves remaining on these shores are so few. ‘Elvish magic’, as dear Samwise would say, may indeed be something his children will never know, save for a bright radiance in a crystal phial, the making of which they – and I – know nothing.”

Elessar took her hand. “As we have honored Sam’s Elanor greatly, so should we ensure that young Frodo is not overlooked. Gimli will take our gifts to him, Arwen, and even if they are not ‘magical’, as he might wish, they will be royal indeed, and he – and his future bride – will know the esteem the King and Queen hold for him.” He was glad to finally see a smile on her face.

Gimli had been sitting quietly, listening to all that had been said. Mention of the Lady, whose ring sat now upon his finger, set him to contemplating his new underground realm and the many unlooked-for marvels that had been achieved there. Even Aragorn did not yet know about some of them. Over the past years, he had painstakingly uncovered secrets to several areas of craft long thought lost -- aided, he was certain, by the influence of the ring coupled with his untiring efforts and fierce dedication to bringing beauty and pride to his own people.

It may be true, as Arwen fears, that the vistas of the Elves are shrinking, he thought, but the potential of my people is indeed bright. The age of Men is upon us, but few realize that the age of the Dwarves has been rekindled. Young Dwarves travel great distances to visit Aglarond, and, as in the old days, apprenticeships seeking training in Dwarvish craft are highly sought after. An idea suddenly occurred to him, one that no other Dwarf would ever consider. We rarely reveal our secrets to those of another race, but Sam relates that his son can be entrusted with one. Perhaps a small one. Perhaps enough to bring a bit of wonder into the life of a worthy hobbit.

Making up his mind, Gimli got to his feet and addressed the King and Queen.

“There is nothing I would not do for Sam and his family,” Gimli said firmly. “Nothing. Mourn no longer, my Lady. When I travel to the Shire, I will bring with me something that will delight young Frodo Gamgee, and hopefully satisfy his intense longing for what the hobbits think of as magic. Perhaps it will even delight his future bride, and generations of hobbits yet to come.” He met Arwen’s gaze, and an understanding passed between them.

“Thank you, Gimli,” Arwen said softly. “I deem it is not by chance that you were in the City when this letter arrived. Whatever you have in mind, I am comforted.”

“What do you have in mind?” Elessar asked curiously.

“A little something,” Gimli said with a smile. “I must think more upon it. But speaking of a little something, are you ever going to open those parcels? If Rosie has sent more of her marvelous pickles, they should be sampled by someone of discerning and judicious taste.”

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