“We have so few coming with us,” commented Thranduil as he looked through the list of those who had decided to travel with the party that was leaving Doriath. Although he had thought it would be wiser not to say anything and to disappear under cover of night, his father had argued that they still may need Doriath as an ally, and that Thingol would be only too happy to be rid of them.
Oropher had been, as he almost always was, absolutely right. For his years of service, he had even managed to secure their provisions as well as a few sleds with dogs and two fine horses, one of which was Thaladir’s war horse, since the captain would be coming with them. Though Thingol was upset to see one of his best fighters go, of all of his captains, it was sometimes mentioned that Thaladir would have the best chance to start an uprising. Nevermind that the rumors had no facts to back them up (or that it was actually Oropher who had started the rumor in the first place), Thingol was wary of the warrior, and did not put up so much of a fight in letting him go.
Daeron was another story. Thingol had agreed at first, but later withdrew, stating that Daeron had always been in his service, even as a young lad, and denied him leave to go. As for the minstrel himself, he had been torn since the beginning – the prospect of a home with more freedom and less disrespect from its ruler enticed him, but it was Luthien who kept him in Doriath.
Celeborn was asked, but rejected the proposal. He had reason to stay, and even married her before the departure of Oropher’s group of travelers, for he wished Thranduil to serve as future guardian to his children should there ever be a need for it. Unexpectedly, they added one member to their party the very morning they set out for whatever land they were going to.
“Does anyone know if there is extra rope to spare?” inquired Thranduil at the general supplier. “Two of the dogs chewed through their harnesses overnight- I swear, tis almost as if we have been given the most undesirable animals,” he mused a bit sarcastically. “I must secure them to the sled again.”
“Rope? Hmm. Galion would know, alas, for he is not here,” smirked the ellon at the counter.
Among the many in Thingol’s service, none was treated more harshly than Galion. He had been an orphan, just as Daeron had been, but an orphan without a silken voice or fingers that could dance upon the harp. His fate had been to be Thingol’s butler, and as such he was also given every small task no one else wanted.
He was dutiful, though, and never did he question or contemplate what he was asked to do. It was a surprise then for Thranduil to further question and learn that Galion had ended up imprisoned in the dungeons.
“Galion slipped and answered his majesty in that old language he hates,” said one of the guards at the supplier. “Stupid ellon just said it without thinking- as it turns out, it was Erestor who was teaching him. Never liked that one, either,” muttered the guard.
Had Galion been left in Doriath, there was no doubt Thingol would have eventually let him out of his cell, and that Galion would have continued being just as loyal as he had always been. Even after ages of service to Oropher and later to Thranduil, Galion still spoke fondly of his previous employer in Doriath. Not that life in Greenwood would prove unkind to him – the fact was that his life had been extremely terrible before Thingol had found him.
It was easier than expected to get Thingol to release Galion from his service. Knowing it was an insult to offer nothing, Oropher went to the king with a pouch of jewels that had been carefully polished in Valinor. It had been expected that they would use them if needed along their journey, but Thaladir was the first to point out that the life and freedom of one elf was worth more than whatever else the jems could buy.
- - -
“Can I get you something, sir? Something to eat, perhaps?”
“Galion, I am fine. We are barely four hours into our journey,” Oropher reminded him. “Why not sit down on one of the sleds and leave the dogs the work of carrying you for a bit?”
Bowing his head, Galion replied, “Oh, no, sir. I am quite content carrying myself, sir. I enjoy the walk, sir.”
“Galion, can you do me a favor?” inquired Thranduil.
“Oh, by all means, sir. What do you wish of me?” asked Galion.
“Please, for the love of Eru, stop calling me sir.”
“Oh, indeed, my lord. So sorry for that, my lord. I shall try to do better.” Galion slowed his steps a bit so that he was a few paces behind the horses that led the party.
Thranduil could not help but smile at the pleading look his father gave to the heavens. It was something that would take his father a bit of getting used to, but it was decided from the onset that he would be the leader of their group. When they found their home, it would be Oropher whom they would crown as their king. Their numbers were few- only about four dozen. It was Hisre who reminded them that the Vanyar started with a mere fourteen elves, and that they flourished now in Aman.
Their first stop for food and rest was in a forest clearing that would be easy to guard and was well-protected by large pines encircling it. A freshwater stream ran through, and there were bushes covered in ripe berries despite the light snow that covered the ground. “It is if the Valar are guiding our way, keeping us safe and well,” remarked one of the ellin who had traveled with them, a young scribe who felt Erestor had been greatly wronged by Thingol.
Erestor. Thranduil found his mind wandering as they continued on their trek, wondering what had happened to his dear friend. He left no clue as to where he might go, and no word came from him in the years that passed while Thranduil remained in Doriath.
“Thranduil, I think your dogs are fighting a losing battle,” spoke Thaladir from his horse. Below and behind him, Thranduil was driving the team of dogs on the largest of the sleds, the one carrying the heavier items and most of their provisions. His daydreaming had caused him distraction, and he had not taken note that he was falling behind.
“Poor things. I know what it is, too.” Pulling on the ropes, Thranduil halted the sled. Opening up a sack behind him, he hoisted up a large, multi-faceted item that looked like an enormous gem. It was, in fact, simply glass, just the arken that he used to decipher the tiny scrawls of writing that were sent on occasion by Turgon or Aegnor or others with such delicate writing.
Tugging his reigns around, Oropher laughed when he doubled back and saw what Thranduil was holding. “What were you going to do with that?”
“I really do not know,” Thranduil admitted. “Thingol was demanding it the last time I stopped in the library.”
“Ah, so you ‘borrowed’ it, then,” stated Oropher with a grin that told Thranduil that he found it amusing. “It isn’t anything they cannot replace, but leave it here. Your dogs have suffered enough.”
Tossing it into the snow, Thranduil snapped the whip above the furry dogs and onward they went.
No one took note of Galion, who trudged slowly, dropping further and further from the group. He scooped the arken up without a sound or a word and stowed it in his own sack, hefting the stone over his shoulder- but that is a story for another time.
“Singme, Adar,” begged Legolas when they next found a place to rest for the night. Thranduil was leaning against a tree, with Avisiel beside him. Ilmendin was curled up in her lap, fast asleep, while Legolas, old enough to walk and talk properly, sucked on his thumb and cuddled against his father.
Had the journey not been so long and trying for them all, Thranduil might have proposed that Legolas ask him properly for a song. Instead, Thranduil held his youngest son close and proceeded to lull him to sleep with a song he himself had written. It was a love song, not at all like the mournful songs of lost love that Erestor wrote and sang, or the hopeful lyrics that came from Daeron’s lips. These were promising and determined, speaking of a true love shared and of devotion no one could challenge. Thranduil sang to his son, but his eyes strayed to his wife as he sang:
For You, I’ll Cross the Sea
I’ll Light the Stars, Across the Sky
For You, I’ll Find the Words
I’ll Love you True, I’d Surely Die
For You, I’ll Cross the Sea
I’ll Bring you Home, I’ll Find a Way
For You, I’ll Bind our Souls
I’ll Keep you Safe, I’ll Always Stay
The four of them rested peacefully in the calm of the night, two little elflings slumbering while their parents kept watch over them and over the others who had come so far with promises of nothing but freedom and hope. They had nothing, and yet they had so much. Reflecting on the decisions they had made, Thranduil concluded that no silver nor jewels could buy the happiness he felt to have his family with him, and that indeed, he would do everything within his power for those that he loved. He in fact had, long before he knew Avisiel, and long before he could have guessed he would ever know Ilmendin and Legolas as his sons.
For them, he had left Valinor, and he would gladly do it again. “For you, I crossed the sea,” he whispered to his wife, snuggled against him and deep in a state of reverie. He kissed her cheek, and then he, too, slipped into a state of rest, letting his mind wander to dream of a land he once called home, a land that would never again be home without his family there with him.
