The kingdom of Lindon lay west of the Blue Mountains.
Its lands were divided into three regions:
To the north was Forlindon, led mainly by the Noldor. The High King of the Elves, Gil-galad himself, had once dwelt there.
To the south was Harlindon, where the Sindar held sway. The Sindarin Elves of Lothlórien and Mirkwood had, in the Second Age, marched east from these shores to found their woodland realms.
Between these two lay the Gulf of Lhûn. Upon its grey-rocked coasts ruled the Falathrim, the shore-dwelling Elves; because of those pale cliffs and worn stones, the havens there were called the Grey Havens. Círdan the Shipwright made his home in that place.
There were many Silvan Elves in Lindon as well, scattered through its hills and woods. The Elvish population was thus a tapestry of great clusters and small mingled settlements.
Though Lindon touched the western seas, it was a land apart. It was the last remnant of the ancient world, Beleriand, that had otherwise drowned beneath the waves.
To speak of Lindon's history, one had to go back to the First Age.
In those elder days the land was known as Ossiriand, a country of plains and forests, its chief inhabitants the Green-elves, a branch of the Silvan kindred.
But at the end of the First Age came the War of Wrath.
The whole of Beleriand was shattered and cast down beneath the sea; the ocean poured over drowned valleys and broken mountains.
Only Ossiriand escaped the full ruin.
All the Elves of Beleriand who had not sailed West to Aman gathered in this last remnant of their homeland, refugees with no kingdom left to them.
In that time, among all the royal houses of the First Age, there remained but a single direct heir: Gil-galad.
His mother had been of Sindarin blood, and so by the will of both the Noldor and the Sindar he was chosen as king, and in his hands Lindon was founded.
Thus began the Second Age.
Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Oropher of Greenwood, and many others had all once lived under Gil-galad's rule.
For this reason he was named the High King of the Elves of the West, the greatest Elven king after the lords of the First Age.
In the early Second Age, when the Edain journeyed to the isle of Númenor to build their new kingdom, it was by the teaching of Lindon's Elves that they learned shipcraft.
Under Gil-galad's leadership Lindon flourished mightily. At its height its influence stretched far to the east, even as far as the wild woods that would one day be called Mirkwood.
In the latter days of that Age, Númenor was drowned.
Those of the Faithful who escaped the Downfall came at last to the shores of Middle-earth, brought over the sea by the labour and mercy of Lindon's mariners.
Elendil the Faithful became Gil-galad's dearest friend.
With the High King's aid, he founded the realms of Arnor in the North and Gondor in the South.
The three white towers upon the Tower Hills were raised by Gil-galad in honour of Elendil, symbols of their unbreakable friendship.
And so, when at the end of the Second Age Gondor was breached by Sauron's legions, and Elendil's son Isildur rode north to seek aid, Gil-galad did not hesitate.
He and Elendil raised the Last Alliance, mustering a host that had never been raised before in middle-earth since the War of Wrath.
Yet that war was too dreadful to be told in full.
Gil-galad fell. Elendil fell. Both were slain by Sauron's own hand upon the slopes of Orodruin.
With Gil-galad's death, the direct royal line of the Noldorin High Kings in Middle-earth was broken.
Galadriel too bore the blood of the High Kings, yet she had never been accepted as queen by the Elves of Lindon, and thus she could not inherit the crown.
After Gil-galad, Lindon passed into the keeping of Círdan the Shipwright. Under his long stewardship the realm endured for thousands of years, yet slowly faded.
It was not that Círdan lacked wisdom or strength, but the Elves of Lindon had grown weary of Middle-earth under the shadow of rising darkness, and their hearts turned West.
One by one, ships slipped out of Mithlond's harbours and vanished over the straight road to Aman.
By the end of the Third Age in the original tale, the mightiest Elven kingdom of Middle-earth in the second age had dwindled to a fraction of what it had once been.
Until the coming of the White Sacred Tree.
Twenty years before, Kaen and Arwen had brought into being five Holy Trees: Gold, Silver, Blue, White, and Green.
The White Tree was gifted to Lindon.
Círdan planted it high upon the Blue Mountains. Its pale radiance drove away the lingering darkness and breathed new life into the land.
In the years that followed, the Elves of Lindon slowly recovered. Fewer and fewer took ship into the West.
Until now, for a long while, no migration-ship had left their shores at all.
Hoooooooo—
A deep horn-call rolled across the Gulf of Lhûn.
A thousand seabirds took wing, wheeling in great white circles over the blue water.
This was no common horn, but the royal horns that were sounded only to greet a king.
Since the death of Gil-galad, there had been but one reason for those horns to be blown: the arrival of another mighty sovereign.
In the bay, Elves turned their eyes toward the haven-city. White ships already out on the water angled their sails and made for the main harbour, for all wished to see which great king had come to their shores.
Noldor, Sindar, Silvan Elves, Falathrim—each kindred made ready flowers and instruments. Led by Círdan, they went out in their thousands from the city gates and lined the road into Mithlond.
The scene was more splendid than any festival, no less grand than the celebrations of Gil-galad's own coronation in days long gone.
To the east, upon the long road that came down from the hills, a line of banners appeared.
At their head flew the royal standard of Eowenría, embroidered with the Golden Sacred Tree.
Kaen rode beside Gandalf, shoulder to shoulder. Behind them followed his two queens, Artemis and Arwen.
Fifty King's Guard marched like living statues, tall and stern, golden armour blazing.
After Eowenría's troop came the hosts of Lothlórien and of the Woodland Realm, led by Lady Galadriel and Prince Legolas.
Galadriel, once named the fairest daughter of the Noldor, now bore herself with a serene splendour—queenly grace, and beneath it an unmistakable majesty.
Legolas's beauty was rare even among the Eldar. Despite his youth, his bearing already carried a shadow of his father Thranduil's pride and gravity.
Behind them came the Dwarves under Thorin's banner.
The sigil of Durin shone holy in the sun, and the young Dwarves marched with chins lifted high.
Last were the noble youths of Gondor and Rohan, led by Denethor, Aragorn, and Théoden.
Their faces were bright with eagerness and pride.
To the Elves, Kaen and Arwen were the saviours of their people.
Their statues stood before the Sacred Trees in almost every Elven realm.
So it took only a moment for Lindon's folk to know them.
"By the Valar… has the statue before the Sacred Tree walked down from its pedestal? I can see the Lord Kaen—our liege in the songs of epic—and the Dawn Princess!"
"You're not mistaken. It is the great one himself. He's come from the East with the kings of Men and Dwarves to visit Lindon!"
"Someone give me a bouquet! I've just come in from the sea and I have nothing prepared, I must offer flowers to the Deliverer of the Elves!"
"This day will be remembered. Any road walked by such a king becomes blessed."
"Sing! Sing the songs from the East—the ones that praise them!"
Music rose; the Elves began to sing.
Flower petals, caught on the breath of the elements, lifted into the air and drifted down like coloured snow.
Thus did the Elves of Lindon, in their own ancient fashion, welcome the embassy.
Círdan the Shipwright stepped forward, spreading his arms wide. His voice rang out across the harbour road:
"In the name of Lindon, I bid you welcome! This is a great day for us—your coming has made it a day of festival and of joy!"
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