When Kaen's host, under the watchful eyes of Thranduil and Legolas, departed from the Woodland Realm, they took the Elven-path through the forest. After ten days' march, they emerged at last from the shadows of Mirkwood.
Yet what awaited them beyond the trees gave them pause, and no small measure of astonishment.
There, upon the snow-swept wilderness, stood Tauriel with near five thousand Silvan Elves at her side. Though the drifts lay deep upon the ground, the Elves seemed to tread the whitened earth without sinking, as though the snows themselves yielded to their grace.
Kaen recognized among them a few faces he had seen before: Elves who had fought in the defense of Dale, and in the perilous battle beneath the Lonely Mountain. Now they wore no longer the gleaming armor of the Woodland Realm, but plain garments of green,others he did not recognize were the elves who had seen him in the Woodland Realm and were reverent of him,all of them tstood silently in ordered ranks behind Tauriel, as though awaiting his command.
Kaen rode forward, perplexed, and called out:
"Tauriel, what is the meaning of this?"
"My lord," Tauriel said, bowing slightly, "we want to follow you. We would become the people who dwell in the radiance of your light."
At those words, Kaen was struck dumb, and not he alone. All who heard them felt the weight of their meaning and were overcome with wonder.
This was no mere proclamation of loyalty to a lord. It was an oath that leapt across the gulf of kindreds.
For Elves and Men were both the Children of the One, the Firstborn and the Followers, elder and younger. Though in ages past Elves had stood beside the great champions of Men, never had they named a Man their king.
The company understood that they stood upon the threshold of history, and silence fell, as each waited to behold what would come of it.
At length Kaen found his voice:
"Does Thranduil know of this?"
Tauriel inclined her head. Stepping forward, she held out a letter sealed in green wax.
"He has given his consent."
Kaen broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Line by line, fair Elvish script shone before his eyes:
To the King of Eowenría,
When you read these words, you may well be filled with questions and doubts concerning the choice of these five thousand Silvan Elves.
Yet I tell you: it is their own choice, and no will of mine has swayed them.
In the long years of our people, we hold memory uncounted: of beauty and of grief alike. The weight of both grows ever heavier, until at last many among us are wearied in spirit, and when no light to heal the heart is found, they choose to surrender their lives.
Long ago, in Aman, the Blessed Realm, there stood the Two Trees of Valinor. Their light could heal the weariness of our kind. Though I never beheld the Trees themselves, I once looked upon their light, caught within the Silmarils, and it is a memory that abides.
But Aman lies far beyond the sea, where the Valar dwell, remote from the world. To bathe again in that radiance, one must forsake all ties to this land. That light—so it seems to me—is but a lofty pity, a gift bestowed from afar, and pride dwells in it as much as mercy.
Thus many among us have refused the call of the West. For though this Middle-earth has been scarred by war and shadow, we still love its forests and mountains. Yet the wounds of battle cannot be wholly avoided, nor the sorrows healed, and so without light to restore us, many of our kindred are slain by grief sharper than any sword.
Until your coming.
Kaen, the light that shines from you not only heals the body and spirit, but fills our hearts with hope itself.
Therefore, those Elves who have beheld your light wish to remain beside you, to dwell in it and serve you as their king.
I love them, and so I will not deny them the path they have chosen. For only thus may the wounds of their hearts find healing.
My foster-daughter Tauriel, and these Silvan Elves, I now commend to your care. May you treat them with kindness.
Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm
Kaen lowered the letter, and a great tide of feeling surged in his breast. Turning his gaze back toward the Woodland Realm, he let out a wry and weary smile.
That the Elves longed truly to follow him, he did not doubt. That he wished to accept them, also was true. That Thranduil had permitted it, perhaps even gladly—aye, that too was true.
Yet when all three truths met together, the matter was not so simple.
For Thranduil had written much of Kaen's light, and what it wrought upon the Elves. Plainly, he sought something in return, though pride kept him from speaking it outright. By setting these Elves in Kaen's keeping, he hinted at his desire.
Still, what he coveted was no treasure Kaen begrudged.
After a moment's thought, Kaen folded the letter and rode to the heart of his train. There stood a great wain laden with jewels. He drew forth from it a stone, white as crystal and large as a man's fist.
Holding the gem in his palm, Kaen breathed deeply. From his arm there spread forth a glow of silver and gold. He poured into the stone near all the strength of his light, until it shone with a brilliance that could warm the coldest heart.
Spent, he sighed, and laid the stone in a casket of carved wood. Handing it to his guards, he said:
"Bear this gift to the Woodland Realm, and place it in the hands of King Thranduil. Tell him it is my thanks. May its light bring healing to all Elves."
That done, Kaen returned to the fore of the host.
He dismounted, and stood before Tauriel and the five thousand Silvan Elves. Reaching forth, he gently brushed Tauriel's hair from her brow. Then he turned to the host and lifted his voice:
"From this day forth, you are my people. You shall march with me to Elarothiel, the high seat of Eowenríel. No longer shall you call yourselves Silvan Elves. I give you a new name:
" The Caladhîn, Children of the Light."
At that, the Elves fell to their knees as one, their voices ringing in unison:
"We swear by the blood of Eowenríel to be thy people. We will follow, generation upon generation, never betraying, never forsaking."
Thus was born a new branch of the Elven-kindred—the Caladhîn,Children of the Light.
Two wizards within the host beheld this in silence, their eyes grave. Bilbo the Hobbit bent over his book, scribbling in haste, eager to record every word and deed.
For this was a moment that would be remembered: never since the awakening of the Elves had such a vow been spoken, nor such a king been named.
With the joining of the five thousand Ashi, Kaen's company grew vast indeed. They pressed onward through the snow, driving before them many wains heaped high with gold and gems, their banners streaming in the bitter wind.
Above them flew Artemis, in the shape of a great white bird, her flock soaring behind, guiding them upon the true path.
And at the fore strode Kaen himself, his form shining with a holy radiance. All eyes turned to him, and all feet followed, as they pressed on toward Tusgar, the city in the upper vales of the Anduin.
There, in the shelter of stone walls, they would endure the cruel winter that lay ahead.