°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

━━━━ »•» act three. age of anguish

35. death favors no man «•« ━━━━

* ✧                                  .°

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 rohan; edoras

*.                          ✦                           °.

THE SILENCE ANSWERED THE KING BEFORE ANYONE ELSE COULD. Thick and heavy it weighed on the air, pressing down on the hearts of everyone gathered on the steps of Meduseld. The wind picked up and whistled through the buildings, as if even nature itself cried with grief for the fate of the king's son. At last, it was Gandalf who stepped forward to give Théoden the answer he craved. The wizard wordlessly lowered his head and that was enough.

A cry of anguish left Théoden's lips and Elgarain felt her heart shatter. It seemed to take all of his strength not to collapse on his knees right then and there. But she knew all too well the pressure of appearing strong before the people. And so, she couldn't blame the King for retreating back inside the hall as quickly as he possibly could, to break down in the privacy of his own quarters.

Her gaze was drawn away from the hall to a woman approaching them. It was the blonde who had cradled Théoden's head after Gandalf healed him. Her steps were steadfast despite the weariness she so clearly wore on her face. Her hair seemed to turn into liquid gold beneath the rays of the sun and her eyes carried a familiar heavy weight. "I am Éowyn, daughter of Éomund and niece of king Théoden," she spoke with a formal smile, "and I welcome you to Edoras."

Gyda was the first to move forward. "Gyda, daughter of Gyldorn, head of the Queen's Guard," she moved aside and nodded her head at Elgarain. "This is High Queen Elgarain of the Ñoldor."

Éowyn smiled and bowed her head. "It is an honor."

"The honor is mine," Elgarain replied with a smile. "Perhaps you have some place we might freshen up? Our journey has been long and eventful, and it will be unsightly for us to pay our respects in such a manner."

"Of course," Éowyn nodded and beckoned them to follow her inside the Hall of Meduseld. "I shall show you where you all may stay."

They followed Éowyn back into the hall and even though barely any time had passed, Elgarain couldn't help but notice the room seemed much lighter then when she first entered. Now that golden sunlight was free to illuminate the magnificent carvings, she truly saw how long and wide the hall was. The mighty pillars with intricate carvings she'd noticed before seemed to stand even more proudly with their king returned to his former strength. Through the louver in the roof, above the thin wisps of the hearth in the middle of the hall, the pale blue sky was visible.

The seeds of darkness that Saruman had planted were already dwindling.

The wood creaked beneath their feet as Éowyn led them past the many tapestries. The woven cloth portrayed images of marching figures out of ancient legends. Some had lost their colors over the years and darkened in shade. But that made them no less beautiful.

One in particular seemed to catch Gyda's eye and her guard came to a halt to study it. The tapestry showed the scene of a young man seated upon a white horse. He blew on a great horn as his yellow hair blew in the wind. The horse held his head high with pride, its nostrils wide as it neighed without a sound, smelling battle from afar. Foaming water, green and white, rushed and curled around its knees.

"Eorl the Young," Éowyn informed them when she took notice of Gyda's curious gaze. "He rode out of the North to the Battle of the Field of Celebrant."

"It is beautiful," Gyda breathed in awe. Her hand twitched at her side, as if she'd wanted to reach out and touch it but managed to hold herself back at the very last moment.

"This way," Éowyn gestured for them to follow her.

They left the hall and its many tapestries behind and headed into the many hallways of Meduseld. Stone and wooden pillars decorated with specks of gold and carvings of old stories awaited them around every corner. It took her a lot of strength not to stop and study them, or even better, draw the intricate patterns on paper.

At the end of a hallway, Éowyn came to a stop. She gestured to a door on her left. "You can stay here for as long as you remain in Edoras."

"Thank you," Gyda replied.

"I shall bring water for a bath."

"We appreciate it, Éowyn, thank you," Elgarain said with a genuine smile. The mere thought of finally being able to take a bath made her happy beyond words.

Gyda opened the door to reveal a simplistic room. Two beds stood in each corner and in between them rested a hearth of stone. On her left was a curtain with a bathtub behind it, as well as mirror hanging on the wall.

Elgarain closed the door behind her and at the sound, Gyda turned to look at her. "You may go first," Gyda said softly, a hint of worry hidden in her voice, "you look like death has caught you in its arms."

She knew it was meant as a mere jest, but Elgarain wasn't surprised at the hint of truth lingering in those words. Her body felt broken and bruised and the excuse of having to heal was slowly losing its weight. No Elf should take this long to heal. But what could she possibly say without worrying Gyda out of her mind? She couldn't put her through that again.

So instead, she tried her hardest to smile but knew it probably didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was hoping I wouldn't look as bad as I feel. But maybe a hot bath is the cure I need."

Gyda didn't answer and instead moved to the hearth. She started to gather a small amount of firewood stashed beside it in her hands. With a single stroke against the firestone, sparks lit up in the darkness of the room. The orange glow and the warmth were soothing after their long journey.

With a small sigh she lowered herself to one of the beds. The soft feather mattress felt strange beneath her fingers after having slept on the ground for so long. After Lothlórien they hadn't been able to enjoy such luxuries anymore. She'd gotten used to life on the road. It wasn't as hard anymore as it had been those first few days. But it wasn't until now Elgarain realized how much she'd missed sleeping in an actual bed. With slow movements, savoring the moment of rest and warmth, Elgarain started unwinding the intricate braids in her hair.

A knock on the door resounded through the room. Gyda got to her feet and opened it. Éowyn and a brown-haired woman greeted her and she moved aside to let them into the room. The water inside the two buckets Éowyn carried sloshed as she placed them on the ground. The brown-haired woman placed two more buckets next to them.

"If you need anything else you can ask Alys," Éowyn said, gesturing to the woman beside her. "She will be in the Great Hall."

Alys greeted them with a shy smile, seeming a little taken aback by the appearance of two Elves. The people of Rohan were very likely never to see one of the Eldar their entire lives. All the Elven Kingdoms were far removed from their grasslands.

"Thank you," Elgarain said as she got to her feet, hoping the woman would loosen up with a kind word.

And indeed, Alys managed to look her in the eye this time. Though only for a second, after which she quickly bowed and followed Éowyn out of the room.

With a small smile lingering on her features, Elgarain turned to help Gyda carry the steaming buckets towards the bath. Together, they emptied the buckets into the tub until it was filled.

"I'll be close if you'll need me," Gyda promised as she took the empty buckets in her hands and stepped backward.

"Alright," Elgarain nodded before closing the curtain.

For the first time in weeks, she was truly alone with her thoughts. She wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing yet but she was determined to make the most of it. First, she reached for the few harmless herbs the Uruk-Hai hadn't bothered to take from her pouch. Among them were some rosemary leaves. She sprinkled them into the water, adding a lovely smell to the steaming bath. It had always been one of her favorite herbs to use as perfume and such.

She undressed herself as fast as her aching limbs would allow and threw her clothes on a pile in the corner. When she at last lowered into the water, a sigh of delight escaped her lips. She was determined to savor every moment the water would hold its warmth. Never again would she take a bath for granted.

Carefully Elgarain washed her pale skin until all grime, dust and blood were gone. The only traces that remained of her journey were the new scars that now decorated her skin. The biggest one was from the wound to her stomach but there were many others. So many cuts she hadn't even noticed and she was unable to recall where most of them had come from.

Next, she got to working on combing out her tangled hair. Wearing her brown locks in a braid helped to keep it from becoming too messy but it'd been so long since she thoroughly combed it. As expected, it was quite the struggle to rid her hair of all knots and make it smooth once again. Once she was done combing, she massaged some of the rosemary into her hair. Then she washed it, making sure to get all of the leaves out of her locks.

Contently she rested her head against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. She had to actively keep herself from falling asleep, reminding herself that Gyda would probably want to wash herself as well. Besides, now that there was a warm bed awaiting her, she'd be stupid to fall asleep in a tub.

But all of those reasons were just stupid excuses for the real reason she kept herself awake. Every time she closed her eyes she was met with Aragorn's warm embrace. The reminder of what she couldn't have, was painful yet her dreams were filled with warmth and comfort. So much so, that she at times resented waking up...It was dangerous, to long for him so fiercely. But she couldn't help it.

Something had changed since they were reunited. Her feelings burned brighter than they had before, as if her trip to death's door rendered all the reasons for avoiding him insignificant.

Elgarain stayed in the water until it had completely lost its warmth. She would have to ask Alys to warm some fresh water for Gyda. It took her an incredible amount of willpower to finally get out of the tub. After she dried herself, her eye fell upon a laid-out tunic and pants on the chair in the corner. The cloth was gray with golden accents, paired with brown pants. She wasn't sure if the clothes were meant for her but her old ones were so filthy and torn that she didn't think twice about putting them on. Though she kept her belt and medicinal pouch, her boots and the cloak given to her by Galadriel.

When she was dressed, she opened the curtain and stepped back into the room. Gyda was seated in a chair by the fire, sharpening her sword with the whetstone she always carried with her.

"How do you feel?" her guard asked.

Elgarain walked over towards her bed and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. "Tired," she replied honestly.

Gyda frowned. "The journey was long and dangerous. A good, safe night's rest might bring you better spirits."

"Perhaps," Elgarain agreed with a shrug.

Gyda got to her feet. "I shall look for Alys for more water." She gathered the buckets in her arms and moved for the door, but at the last moment she turned back to look at her. "You're safe here, Elgarain," she promised gently before making her way into the winding hallways of Meduseld.

She understood Gyda's worries perfectly well. After all, if their places had been reversed and Gyda had been the one taken captive, Elgarain was pretty sure she would've lost her mind. Still, she hoped her friend would be able to let some of it go. She feared Gyda wouldn't be able to keep it up to always worry for her and never think about herself.

Lost in thought she started working on braiding her hair, recalling the patterns Arwen taught her long ago. When Gyda returned with fresh warm water, she wordlessly offered her friend a smile and watched her disappear behind the curtain.

By the time Gyda had finished her bath and stepped back into the room, Elgarain had long since finished her braid. No matter how tired she was, she refused to go to sleep. To distract herself from her exhaustion her fingers had been absentmindedly caressing Vilya

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Gyda asked.

Elgarain looked up, startled out of her exhausted trance. "I'm afraid I couldn't bring myself to do so yet," she admitted as gray eyes flashed through her mind.

Gyda hummed as she crossed the room to sit down next to her.

Elgarain scooted aside to make room.

"Are you frightened?" Gyda asked. "To sleep?"

She considered the question for a moment. How much of the truth should she tell? But after a moment she realized that if anyone would understand, it was Gyda. "No," she finally sighed. "I fear I won't want to wake again. Lately my dreams have brought me more comfort than my waking moments have."

The words weighed heavy in the air and for a moment Elgarain feared she'd said too much. But it was no more than the truth. The golden forest she'd met with Gyda in her dreams had been a far more pleasant place than the pack of Uruk-Hai surrounding her. As had been her returning dream of sleeping soundly in Aragorn's arms...

Unable to find the words to comfort her, Gyda pulled Elgarain into a warm embrace. She slackened against her and Gyda held her even tighter.

"Look at you being the one embracing me for once," Elgarain laughed through her tears, trying to ease the heavy tension.

"Only because I love you so dearly," Gyda murmured into her hair. "I wish I could take away the pain you feel Elgarain. I would do so in a heartbeat."

"Annon allen, nésa," she whispered. "I would do the same for you if I could."

"You have Elgarain, more so than you know," she admitted softly.

"I'm glad," Elgarain smiled. She rubbed away the tears from her eyes and took a breath. "Come, let us not talk of such sad things anymore. We've been surrounded with enough pain lately." She studied Gyda for a moment and a thought crossed her mind. For a moment she hesitated if Gyda would appreciate such a thing before deciding asking would be harmless.

"Would you allow me to braid your hair? I used to think there was nothing more relaxing than having someone do my hair. Arwen actually taught me how to make a beautiful braid," she rambled, hoping to provide her friend with reasons to say yes in order to avoid her rejection.

Gyda looked up at her unsurely. She probably wasn't used to such things... Maybe the last time someone else had done her hair was her mother, when she was just a small Elfling.

But Elgarain wasn't about to give up that easily, not now that she'd been brave enough to ask. With mirth sparkling within her gaze, she said; "I'm actually surprised you wear it loose. A braid is much more practical in a fight." She shrugged. "But you're allowed to refuse of course."

Gyda sputtered for a moment before her shoulders slouched in defeat. "Fine, you may do so." She looked at her with a seriousness she mostly used while training the Elflings. "But nothing too fancy."

"Yes, yes," Elgarain agreed, but her thoughts were already focused on choosing a pattern. She ushered Gyda to move forward and took place behind her on the bed. Tenderly she started parting her hair into three strands and then got to working through the steps Arwen taught her. She hummed softly and as she worked; she could feel Gyda starting to relax.

She lost track of time as she worked. The simple steps of repeating the same movement over and over again finally made her able to truly empty her mind. And she was more than grateful for the distraction. She'd been so caught up in her work she hadn't noticed Gyda's breathing growing heavier. Until suddenly her friend scooted away from her with a fearful expression.

"Stop. Please stop, Elgarain."

Immediately Elgarain pulled her hands away. "I'm sorry," she said with a worried frown. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No...no." Gyda shook her head. "It's me." She rushed to stand up and backed even further away from her.

The look of utter fear on Gyda's face made her feel as though a knife was being stabbed into her heart. "I-I don't understand," Elgarain muttered. Slowly she got to her feet, hoping to comfort her friend but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"Please, just stay there." Gyda held out her hand in front of her and Elgarain came to a halt. "I-I can hear it," Gyda muttered fearfully.

"Hear what?" Elgarain looked around but her ears caught no strange noises. Her heart was hammering in her worst with growing worry. "Gyda, help me understand."

"The ring. I hear the ring as Boromir did too," her voice cracked as she looked up at Elgarain.

A thousand thoughts were racing through her mind as she hopelessly tried to think of how to calm the Elleth in front of her. She hadn't known Gyda had been struggling with the temptations of the Ring this badly. And even though she didn't want to dismiss her fears, she couldn't understand how she was feeling the effects of the One Ring even now.

"There is nothing to worry about," she said reassuringly. "The Ring is miles away from here with Frodo and Sam."

"It is not the One Ring I hear," Gyda admitted, eyes drawn to something on Elgarain's hand.

Elgarain followed her line of sight and finally realization dawned upon her. Gyda was looking straight at Vilya, to where the sapphire softly shone on her finger. She moved her arm behind her back, taking the ring out of Gyda's sight. She had no idea what was happening, all she knew was that she had to somehow convince Gyda there wasn't any immediate danger. There couldn't be, not from her father's ring.

"Vilya won't harm you," Elgarain promised, watching her closely. "The three rings gifted to the Elves were never touched by Sauron. There is no evil within them."

"But it has been close to the One Ring," Gyda whispered worriedly, "what if the same darkness has seeped through and found another place to corrupt?"

It was useless to try and convince her with words, it always had been. And so Elgarain decided to try a different approach. "Alright," she said slowly, grasping at even the most desperate ideas to figure out what exactly it was about Vilya that had her friend so scared. "Can you tell me what it is you hear?"

"I-I don't know, the words are a language I can not decipher." She placed her hand against her heart. "But my heart knows its words, listens to its commands. I can barely look away from Vilya, Elgarain. It begs me to be close, I know it."

Elgarain nodded. "And why do you believe those words can only be spoken by the darkness?"

"Because the light would not disguise itself."

"Even the light doesn't always speak to us clearly," Elgarain said softly, searching for the right words to say to avoid further frightening her friend. "Has Vilya ever led you down a wrong path?"

"I have not yet followed its path; I do not know where it ends." Gyda said, "And I shall not risk to bring you harm if its intentions are untrue."

"I have followed its path," Elgarain said while taking a careful step towards Gyda. Her friend didn't back away again, which she took as a sign that she was succeeding in trying to calm her. "In Lothlórien, it was Vilya that told me how to heal you. And again, in Fangorn forest, I followed where Vilya led me and I was healed. I do not believe such intentions to be malicious."

"Then why does it speak to me? I do not wear it, or use its power," Gyda asked.

With a frown on her pale features, Elgarain raised her hand and looked at Vilya. For a moment she remained silent. She had no answers for her friend, for it was a good question. She had no idea why

Vilya would choose Gyda to speak to, in words she couldn't even understand. She tried to think of a moment Gyda had come into contact with the ring. Perhaps that would help explain why she was feeling drawn to it.

And then, a thought struck her so suddenly her breath caught in her throat.

"Perhaps it is somehow connected with that dream we shared," she muttered.

Even if Gyda had heard her, she was too caught up in her fears to understand the meaning of it. "I do not know what to do, Elgarain," she whispered demurely and so unlike herself.

Elgarain threw all caution to the wind stepped forward to wrap her arms around Gyda in a tight

embrace, holding her close. She couldn't stand seeing her so afraid, so small. "Neither do I," she admitted. "So perhaps we should ask someone who does."

Gyda untangled herself from her embrace to look her in the eye. "Gandalf may know more of this oddity."

Elgarain nodded. "There might be some time to speak with him before the funeral."

"Then we must make haste," Gyda affirmed.

They left their small haven of peace behind and made their way back to the main hall. Gyda had memorized the route quite well and they reached it without getting lost. Elgarain was pretty sure she wouldn't have been able to do it alone. When they reached the hall, she looked around but there was no sign of the White Wizard amongst the warriors of Rohan that lingered. Though there was one other familiar face.

"Gimli!" Elgarain exclaimed in relief, hurrying over to where the Dwarf was seated on a wooden bench. "Have you seen Gandalf?"

Gimli blinked at her, trying to order his thoughts through the haze of the smoke coming from his pipe.

"It is important we see him before the funeral," Gyda added impatiently.

"Aye," Gimli grumbled. "Last I've seen he was outside."

Gyda spun on her heel and headed straight towards the doors.

"Thanks," Elgarain said with a quick smile at the Dwarf before sprinting outside.

The air was growing colder as the evening neared. Despite the day nearing its end though, Edoras was much more alive than it had been a few hours ago. The people of Rohan were clearing up the streets and preparing for the funeral of their prince. It might have been a sad occasion that brought them together but they also seemed slightly more hopeful and a little bit happier now that Théoden had returned to lead them.

Gyda spotted the White Wizard first. He was seated on a bench looking out towards the mountains, smoke curling up into the sky from the pipe he was smoking. Together they walked towards him and she couldn't help but notice Gyda's sure footsteps slowly becoming more and more doubtful.

"Gandalf?" Elgarain called out softly, gaining the wizard's attention as he turned to look at them with a warm smile. "May we ask you something?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you would come look for me," he said, a strange gleam within his eyes as he studied the two of them.

"You already know?" Gyda frowned. "How?"

"How is a far less important question as what it is the two of you are experiencing," the wizard said before taking a long drag from his pipe.

Elgarain took a seat next to him on the bench, worrying gnawing at her stomach and making her feel slightly sick. "So, can you tell us why Vilya speaks to Gyda?"

Gyda, still standing a safe distance away from Elgarain, crossed her arms over her chest, eyes focused on Gandalf as she impatiently awaited his answer.

"Can you describe to me what you did in Lothlórien in order to heal Gyda?" Gandalf asked.

Elgarain frowned. How could he possibly know about the events that took place after his death? She decided it didn't matter and, at least for now, she shoved that question aside.

"I used Vilya to reach out to her fëa," Elgarain started to explain. "Then I pulled her fëa back to this world. That is how I healed her."

Gandalf nodded. "How far did Lord Elrond get in his teachings about the healing of the spirit?"

Her gaze flickered to Gyda. "Far less than he wanted to," she muttered.

He looked solemn, eyes staring sternly into hers. "Sometimes, when the fëa is incorrectly disconnected, a sliver can remain tied to the one who tried to pull it back to the hröa."

Her stomach was aching now as the true danger of her healing methods started to sink in. Perhaps Aragorn had been right after all...

"Is that why I can hear Vilya? Because a part of me is still connected to it?" Gyda wondered. "Will it always be like that?"

"Vilya only assisted in pulling you back," Gandalf said, "but it was Elgarain's fëa who connected to yours."

Elgarain's gaze found Gyda, her eyes shining with uncertainty and guilt.

"Such bonds may linger when the connection between souls is strong," Gandalf added, noticing the look shared between them. "But, in time, it shall pass."

"So, I haven't endangered her because of what I did that day?" Elgarain asked with a trembling voice.

Gandalf smiled softly. "No, you haven't, tarinya."

Relief loosened the knot in her stomach and she exhaled slowly.

But Gyda didn't seem completely convinced yet. "Then what about the d—" A bell tolled before she could finish her sentence. But before she could even try to repeat it, Gandalf stood up and looked at both of them with a smile. "No danger befalls you Gyda nor Elgarain."

Elgarain looked at the ring on her finger but the sight of it was no longer comforting. Instead, it was now a reminder of the harm she'd done to Gyda. But there was no time to linger on those thoughts. Théodred's funeral was about to commence.

The sun slowly started to fade away across the horizon of the field as the three of them made their way down the hill with the rest of the crowd. She spotted Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli at the foot of the hill and silently came to a halt at their side.

She shared a solemn look with Aragorn before averting her gaze to where two lines of soldiers had formed a pathway through the crowd. Once again, the bell tolled and a heavy silence fell upon the crowd. First, the pallbearers who carried the body of Théodred between them came walking down the path. A small bundle of white simbelmynë flowers rested upon his chest. The small white flower that covered the green tombs of Rohan.

Théoden and his household walked behind the pallbearers. The king looked as though he was completely lost within his grief, blue eyes glassy with tears. Silent cries filled the air and the very sound made her heart tremble.

A trembling gasp fell from her lips as the foreign proceedings brought back very familiar feelings of grief. Funerals were uncommon among her people. Only once had she seen Elves being buried. The broken bodies recovered from the battlefield of the last battle between the free folk and Sauron. Gyda's father had been amongst those warriors but not hers. There had been nothing left of Gil-Galad to bury after his body had been burned by the hand of Sauron.

And as she saw the people of Edoras coming together, she wished she could have some sort of funeral for the father. Some sort of place she could visit to remember him. Her mother once told her the waves of the sea reminded her of her father. Aerien could often be found wandering on the beach. But it was hardly the same as visiting a place where a part of him still remained...

She hadn't even noticed how badly she was shaking until Aragorn reached out and took her hand. His firm but tender grip anchored her to the moment and brought her back from the sea of pain that had threatened to swallow her. She held on to his hand with a firm grip, holding on tightly to the lifeline he'd provided her.

At last the pallbearers reached the tomb that had been readied for the prince of Rohan. As they carefully lowered his body to forever rest beneath the stone hill, Éowyn's strong but grieving voice started singing in a haunting melody.

"Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost. Bealo."

The words spoken in Rohirric are unfamiliar to her, but she doesn't need to know the meaning to recognize the grief and pain carried with them.

The tomb is closed with a shuddering crack. Théoden stood in front of it, his head bowed low and a single white flower cradled in his hand. "Simbelmynë," he mumbled. "Ever has it grown on the tombs of my forebears." He turned to look at Gandalf. "Now it shall cover the grave of my son."

In solemn silence the people of Edoras started making their way back towards their home, leaving their king to grieve by his son's grave. Elgarain followed them, still holding Aragorn's hand in her own. She didn't ever want to let go...

They had almost reached the gates to the city again when Aragorn came to a halt, forcing her to do the same. She'd been so lost in thought she hadn't even seen something had appeared on the horizon. She frowned against the light of the setting sun to make sense of what she was seeing.

A horse was standing on a ridge in the distance. There were two children, a boy and a girl seated upon his back. Both of them were covered in blood and grime. Even from this distance Elgarain could see they were completely exhausted.

Then the boy toppled over, falling to the ground and from beside her, Gyda took off into a sprint. 

°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

A lot of things are happening this chapter! Finally we got a little bit more answers on the strange connection between Elgarain and Gyda. Some of you guessed it correctly! It has something to do with Elgarain using Vilya to heal Gyda.

Also lots of Ararain feels this chapter. It really is high time these two have a conversation with each other don't you think? ;) Who knows, maybe next time.

As always, please leave some comments with your thoughts. It motives me immensily to hear from you guys!

xx Nelly

TRANSLATIONS:

Annon allen ― I give thanks to you

Nésa ― Sister

Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost. Bealo. ― An evil death has set forth the noble warrior. A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels in Meduseld that he is no more, to his lord dearest and kinsmen most belover. An evil death.