The King of Eowenríel poured his radiance into the dwarves' royal treasure, the Arkenstone, that jewel once gifted to him as a token of friendship. At first it shone with mingled hues of silver and gold.
But slowly the golden light faded, leaving only silver to shine through the silent night, soothing the weariness of men's hearts.
Yet was the golden brilliance gone? No. By day it would return, gleaming with the sun, falling upon the people and filling them with strength and courage.
The good-hearted Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, wrote of it thus in his journal of wanderings, where he recorded all that he had seen and lived upon this road. He loved to sit before Kaen's castle, basking in the radiance of the Arkenstone, writing his tales of adventure while the songs of the Elves flowed about him.
Within the protection of that jewel, all Tusgar was kept warm, even through the bitterest nights.
There Bilbo dwelt among the Eowenríans, learning the tongue of the people of Eowenría: a speech of Men called Anglian, wrought with unique rhythms and cadences. He grew to delight in it, composing verses with them, and laughter and harmony filled the city.
Peace lay upon the land.
One day tidings came. Lairon brought word: the Rangers beyond Tusgar's walls had sighted strange Elves wandering near.
Curious, Kaen ordered that they be brought before him.
Twelve they were in all. Their garments were rough—furs and coarse-woven cloth. Only the two who led them, a man and a maiden, bore long-swords of iron. The rest held but weapons fashioned in simplicity: spears of sharpened yew, and bows strung with makeshift arrows.
When they beheld Kaen upon the throne, they bowed awkwardly, almost halting in their reverence.
The youth who stood foremost spoke first:
"We greet the great Kaen Eowenríel."
Kaen gazed upon them, and after a pause said, with uncertainty: "Are you the Avari Elves?"
"Yes," replied the youth. He bowed again, and added respectfully: "I am Yenagath, chieftain of the nearest tribe of the Avari. This is my sister, Yenistriel, and here are the elders of our people."
Kaen's eyes, bright as though piercing hearts, rested upon them. "From your words it seems you know me, and know that a mighty host abides here. So you did not come here by chance, did you?"
The Elves shifted uneasily. Yenistriel, the maiden, shrank behind her brother, fearful beneath Kaen's gaze.
Yenagath inclined his head at last. "Yes. All the North now sings of your deeds. Yet, in truth, tales of you have long been told in the Anduin Valley. You united the hill-tribes of the upper river and founded this city, destined for greatness.
"At first it concerned us little. For we Avari seldom deal with Men, and scarcely even with our kin among the Elves. But not long ago, a light rose from your city, and our hearts were drawn to it. That is why we have come."
Kaen's voice grew deep, his tone thoughtful. "That is not the whole of it, I deem. Your purpose is not so simple."
Under his gaze, Yenagath felt his heart laid bare. Lies or concealment were impossible. He knew that if he held back, the King would be angered, and they would be cast out.
So he drew breath and confessed:
"Honored King of Eowenría, I will not hide it. We have come to beg land from you."
"Land?" Kaen's brow furrowed. He gestured for him to speak further.
"Your radiance has brought us peace such as we have not known in a thousand years. Therefore I would ask of you the forest west of this city, that my people may dwell beneath that light."
Kaen frowned, pondering. He did not answer at once, but his face was grave.
The Avari—"the unwilling"—were those Elves who in the ancient days had refused the summons of the Valar. They were unlike the Nandor and Sindar, who turned aside from the march to Aman out of longing for the lands they had seen. No, the Avari had rejected the call outright, and clung to the untamed world.
They had no great crafts that they had learned from the Valar. No kingdoms either—only tribes scattered like shadows across the wilderness. To most they were unseen, as if transparent.
Yet their numbers, in truth, surpassed many of the kindreds known to fame. Across the wide lands east of the Misty Mountains, in every fair valley, forest, and river, traces of the Avari could be found.
Faced with their request, Kaen recalled what Galadriel had once said in the White Council: that he was much akin to Finrod Felagund, the Lord of Nargothrond. For in the elder days Finrod, too, had looked upon the forefathers of Men—wild and untaught—and shown them grace.
History is ever akin to itself, only told in another hour.
Kaen rose from the throne. His body was wrapped in holy light, and it fell upon the Avari before him.
"I grant your petition," he said. "So long as your hearts remain true and kind, it matters not whether you are of my realm or not—you shall still be bathed in my light."
At his words, the faces of the Avari shone with wonder.
"Truly?" cried Yenistriel, her eyes bright and her lips curved in gladness.
Kaen nodded. "Yes. Only those of goodwill may feel warmth from my light, and draw strength from it."
"Great King of Eowenría," said Yenagath, bowing low. "Your generosity is as noble as your radiance."
Their movements were clumsy, their bows ungraceful, yet their smiles were sincere.
Kaen continued: "You may also invite other Elven tribes of the valley to dwell here. Already within my rule live Elves—the Caladhîn who are Tauriel's people. I believe you shall find fellowship with them."
So it was that Kaen gave the forest west of Tusgar, along the roots of the Misty Mountains, into the hands of the Avari. He named it the Twilight Forest, the wood beneath the glow of the fading light.
Days later, thousands of Avari, led by Yenagath, settled there. Kaen sent the Caladhîn Elves to aid them in building their homes.
Thus began friendship between the two kindreds. And some among the Avari, drawn by the King's radiance, chose to forsake their wandering and join the Caladhîn, becoming followers of Kaen, children of the Light.
…