Disclaimer and notes: I will be referring to Vanimë and Amorith within the same sentence from now on: Vanimë indicates the true pure side, Amorith the aggressive protective shell. Once again, all characters that are not my own belong to Tolkien.
Councils
Amorith sat opposite Haldir, near Lady Galadriel. She waited patiently in her seat as guards ushered courtiers out of the court, leaving only the Lord and Lady alone with Amorith and Haldir. Both of them respectfully bowed their heads to the rulers.
"Thank the Valar that both of you are safe," Lord Celeborn began, as he seated himself. "If the reports I hear are correct, then there will be dark times ahead for the Golden Wood."
This was addressed directly to Haldir.
"You are correct, my liege, those are indeed what the reports say," the Marchwarden confirmed, handing a few pieces of parchment to Celeborn. "Here is my final assessment that you ordered."
"The Orcs simply gather in numbers at the edge of Mirkwood," Galadriel spoke with her voice as if from afar, her eyes closed.
"Indeed, I do not understand this myself," Amorith said, shaking her head.
"Did you see this yourself?" Celeborn asked her.
"Certainly, Lord. I went with Haldir and his brothers. We watched the opposite shore for two days, each one of us observing from a separate location, and nothing occurred, just more and more Orcs gathering there," Amorith nodded her dark head. "They do not seem to be even attacking Mirkwood, but this is not for sure—I am simply basing this on what I have seen from one riverbank across to the other."
"A worthy observation nonetheless," Haldir told her approvingly, to which she acknowledged with a slight nod of her head.
Celeborn looked up from the parchments in his hand. His brow was furrowed in thought.
"If they are not attacking, what are they gathering for?" he asked.
"If I knew sire, I would have long told you," Haldir sighed.
Galadriel's blue eyes flickered open suddenly.
"What do you see?" Celeborn asked her.
But she shook her golden head.
"Naught save darkness; it is closed off to me," she whispered, looking at Amorith.
The Noldo princess sat stiffly in her chair.
"Does Thranduil know of this?" Celeborn asked.
A voice broke out in coarse laughter.
"Oh, but of course he knows! Do not think he is ignorant of this fact, even though he thinks we are. A fly does not stir within Mirkwood without his knowing," Amorith said, gray eyes storming. "How very polite of him to pass on the warning!"
"Maybe he just realized," Haldir said.
But Amorith stood, pacing the room.
"We knew of them when, four days ago? And even then there was a great amount, and the camp was fairly decent. I venture to guess that they were there before we spotted them at least a week. He would have learned of their movements before that. So let us say he had a fortnight's knowledge of them. If he truly wanted us to know, we would have received word by now. But he will not," Amorith said coolly.
"And why not?" Haldir asked, then instantly realized his mistake.
"Do you know anything of the Elder Days, when Elf was pitted against Elf? Sindarin against Noldor? The Kinslaying?" Amorith said, her voice heavily accentuated, and all three realized that it was Vanimë. A shadow fell over her, and her voice was both harsh and soft at once. Haldir was confused, since she had told him, but he recalled his promise to her to not let anything that had occurred those few days be known to anyone. "I know him better than anyone. He will view the Orcs as a threat to just his realm. He will do anything to protect Mirkwood. He will not send us any warning or relief, for we are his enemy. This will be an opportunity for his nemesis, Lady Galadriel, to perish and for him to reclaim his lost land. Do you understand now, Haldir? He still clings to the old wounds of old: Sindar versus Noldor."
Celeborn and Galadriel looked away. Haldir noted the silent manner in which they communicated with each other, exchanging only glances.
"I know what Thranduil means to you, Amorith, but there is something—"
Suddenly the shadow fell away, leaving a terrible being in its wake. Vanimë was livid.
"You think aran Thranduil has joined with the Enemy?" her voice was deadly quiet, her face inches from Haldir.
He saw Lady Galadriel hold her hand against her husband, who was on his feet, meaning to make for Amorith. Haldir forced a calm expression on his face to quell her anger.
"I am merely entertaining all possibilities. Nothing can be overlooked, Marchwarden."
He spoke to her in an authoritative manner, staring back at her. She seemed to shrink.
"Why does everyone judge him so harshly? He is not evil; he is merely hurt," she cried.
Galadriel rose to her feet gracefully and strode over to Vanimë as she spoke, her heavy Noldo accent quite apparent now.
"Ever loving my kinswoman," Galadriel told her soothingly, as if to a small elfling. "We do not doubt Thranduil's position in relation to the Enemy. However, to think of all possibilities in a situation such as this is crucial so that we may choose the right step."
"You are correct," Amorith sniffed, and Haldir marveled at how she changed moods so quickly. "I was being silly; it has been a long few nights."
Galadriel nodded, her look penetrating deep into Amorith. Celeborn rose too now, and Haldir knew the council was over.
"We will read over the reports again, Haldir. Amorith, thank you for attending. Haldir, please escort her to her talan. Have a safe night," Celeborn said, hands raised in closure.
Galadriel and Amorith were both staring at each other, but Haldir noted that they appeared to be staring beyond the other's face, as if able to see things deeper and more impenetrable. It took a few moments to rouse Amorith.
"Ah Haldir, try to rest," Galadriel said, her back to him.
"Le hannon (I thank thee)," said the Marchwarden, leading Amorith out of the court area.
They both walked on in silence, Amorith still oblivious to her surroundings. Her eyes held the same distant staring look, and Haldir knew there was no bringing her back. He stopped abruptly before her talan, and she seemed to come around.
"I appreciate the kind escort, Haldir," she smiled, with a slight curtsy.
"Vanimë, tell me, what do you and the Lady See?" he asked impulsively.
And again the image of the Noldo princess appeared before him as Amorith faded away, a light delicate lady, whose eyes held a look of deep sadness. This time, however, she spoke Sindarin without her native tongue heavily accentuating her speech.
"I do not See as the Lady does, Haldir. The Valar have bestowed a gift upon her that I do not share," the Eldar said. "I only See with my heart."
"What do you See about us?" Haldir whispered.
Vanimë turned her gray eyes upon him, running her fingers across his cheek smoothly.
"The path before us is uncertain, filled with fog," she said.
"What do you See?" Haldir asked again, firmly this time.
Vanimë hesitated slightly before replying, "Much pain, and anger—and uncertainty. There are some secrets that remain hidden still."
She spoke the last few words pointedly, and her hand withdrew from his face. Within the blink of an eye Amorith appeared before him again. She paused at her talan's entrance.
"You should rest, my Captain. I sense dark trouble in the coming days," she said.
Haldir nodded, bade her a good night, then disappeared down the pathway towards his talan. It was not his alone, but shared with his two brothers. Their talan was larger than most, given that each brother cherished spacious quarters. Even though, Haldir felt at times the talan's walls were closing in upon him, suffocating him. He preferred the open expanse of the forest, the freedom of taking to the trees. Before the arrival of his Lord and Lady, he had heard that the Silvans of the Golden Wood had lived more freely, in a manner more alike to the ways of their kin in Mirkwood. He did not begrudge his way of life, but sometimes he found himself wishing for a certain touch of looseness. Pushing aside his thoughts, he took a deep breath and stepped into his talan, arranging his features into a plausibly pleasant smile. Wafting towards him on the night air was the smell of the evening meal, and his stomach gurgled in response. Haldir removed his boots, and made his way lightly to the dining section of the talan. His brothers were seated around a low table, cross-legged, enjoying the food. Various dishes and bowls were laid out, and a pitcher of wine lay in the center. They both looked up as he entered, nodding their greetings to him, busy eating and drinking. Haldir nodded in return and took his usual place at the table. Orophin pushed the pitcher of wine and a glass towards him, while Rúmil filled his elder brother's plate with meat and potatoes. Haldir tore a chunk of bread for himself from the loaf in the wicker basket.
"Thank you," Haldir said to his brothers.
"How was the council?" Orophin asked between bites of bread.
"I gave my assessment report to Lord Celeborn. It will be reviewed at a later time."
Rúmil rolled his eyes.
"Asking you a question, then expecting an answer, is like stripping a tree leaf by leaf—slow, painful, and tedious. Sometimes I would rather shoot my own foot with my bow," he said.
Orophin laughed abruptly mid swallow, spraying a fine mist of wine on Haldir, who in turn aimed a blow at the perpetrator Rúmil. But Rúmil was ready, having tucked himself into the fetal position and rolled to the opposite side. All three brothers shared a hearty laugh.
"How was Amorith?" Orophin asked.
"The same as ever," Haldir replied.
The remainder of the meal was spent in silence on the Captain's behalf, listening to his two brothers discussing light-hearted topics. Once finished, Haldir drained the remainder of his wine from the glass and pushed back his plate. All three marchwardens bowed their heads in a quick prayer of thanks. Then he rose slowly from the table, loosening his belt as he went. His hair he had already removed from its plaits, which hung loosely around his shoulders now. After a brief washing, Haldir eased himself into his bed, body aching but mind still alert. His thoughts went back to the past few days, and the matter of the Orcs of Dol Guldur worried him. Yet Amorith troubled him further, and he felt a little pang of guilt for being slightly more worried about her than the fate of his homeland. Here he was again, obsessing about a maiden—though in this case Amorith was a Lady in every sense of the word—at a time of trials and difficulty. What irony was his life?
He could not understand her. Just when he would assume she had stabilized, she was already gone on another whirlwind journey, leaving him standing alone in the dust, with nothing but the whistling wind to comfort him. Her moods changed much faster than the passing seasons, as did earlier today in the council with his Lord and Lady. She was volatile, and he loved the fierceness about her. Yet underneath her staunch countenance, Haldir detected a self loathing that bordered on hatred. There were deeper chasms within her soul that he was afraid to uncover, which she tried to hide from herself. Even with all this potential negativity, she had a softer brighter side which he cherished. He suspected it came only when she felt at total ease, a state which Vanimë had not experienced in awhile, and why Amorith dominated most of the time. Through the memory she had shared with him, she had shown him her true nature: one of grace, love, and kindness. It laid forgotten, buried deep within the recesses of her soul, and he was unsure of being able to unearth it. She was unlike any other woman he had met, a different species apart from his maiden, but he loved her as fiercely, if not more. And he had promised her his heart, if only she would take it, if only he was strong enough for her.
…
Inside, Amorith removed her finery and sank into a chair, head in her hands. She was having a hard time managing herself. Vanimë was begging to be released, but Amorith could not allow that. To do so now would leave her helpless—already the few instances she had lost control of herself proved to be disastrous. She felt suddenly weary of everything; her eyes drooped uncontrollably. Amorith found herself falling into a dream, a dream that seemed real. She was standing in Caras Galadhon, and all around her was darkness. A great foreboding sense of dark evil fell over her, so that she unsheathed her sword and held it out before her as she cautiously made her way towards the only light source she could see. She could hear movement all around her, and a chill ran up and down her spine. Great many creatures were moving with her, towards the light. And suddenly she felt afraid, afraid for the light. It was the last light in this vast darkness, and it was vulnerable, vulnerable to this evil that was slowly moving towards it. Her breath caught in her throat as she sped over the mallorn leaves, she had to reach the light before it was consumed. The darkness began seeping into her bones as she reached the light, and she shivered.
The first attack came stealthily, testing her ability. Amorith countered until she felt she would drop, and the darkness receded. She sat exhausted, when the second assault came, draining her energy even more, but once more she was victorious. But she knew she was not victorious, for she could feel the darkness gathering again, preparing for an even heavier assault. She raised herself onto her knees, prepared to meet her doom. And suddenly, the light was gone, and Amorith grieved—she had failed. Darkness had stolen over the land; the Enemy had won. And beneath her she saw the bodies of many Elves, and the visions of Alqualondë loomed before her. Caranthir stood before her, holding a Silmar, laughing maniacally. Forfirith beckoned her from Fangorn. Amorith sank to her knees, weeping, and found herself in a wood of beech. Thranduil loomed before her, his eyes like blue steel.
"You failed even to protect your kinswoman's last Noldorin stand," he said harshly.
She turned towards Lórien, screaming. Thranduil placed a firm hand on her shoulders.
"Truly, you Noldor are forsaken by the Valar."
Even as she felt his sword penetrating her gut, she saw the light of Lórien return anew, and she knew that all was saved. She succumbed herself at last to the eternal peace—
"Your words to Haldir were true, for you truly do See with your heart, Vanimë."
Caranthir's eldest daughter arose to find herself by the pool with the Mirror, Galadriel standing before her, speaking with her mind.
"You See what I See as well," Vanimë said in Quenyan, as was their habit.
Galadriel stirred slightly.
"And more," she added.
"Of which I care not to know."
Galadriel narrowed her eyes.
"I cannot hold out much longer. War is on our borders, but that does not frighten me. The old war looms ahead, and I know I cannot resist its call. I will have to face my fear."
Vanimë spoke aloud, for no one came to this spot, except the two kinswomen.
"Then you will fulfill your vow to Haldir," Galadriel said, aloud as well.
Vanimë did not seem surprised, for nothing escaped the Lady.
"What does a Marchwarden have to do with the troubles of the Elder Days?" Amorith was speaking now, in Sindarin, her face defiant. "How can he possibly understand my turmoil? These Silvan Elves are so naïve it sickens me. They long for Valinor, yet what have they done to earn it? My pains are enough for centuries."
Galadriel stared ahead, her arms waving downward, as if to control the outburst.
"When all you know of it is a mere legend that is pain enough. And these Silvans suffer their own wounds as well. Not all is well with the Silvans and Sindarins either," Galadriel spoke in Sindarin, to Vanimë's surprise. "Do not judge them unless you live their life."
Amorith was silenced, and Vanimë spoke.
"Haldir is pure of heart, but he should not immerse himself in my feud. All that he may receive is an empty bitter shell in the end," she said, Quenyan again.
"Perhaps that is all you may think, but even a wilted flower can be nourished back to health and bloom again, even more beautiful," Galadriel replied steadily.
Vanimë sunk her head.
"The Golden Wood is not safe. You must stay hidden and well protected," Amorith said.
Galadriel smiled graciously.
"And what of Vanimë?" the Lady asked.
Amorith lifted her head, gray eyes determined:
"She will know when to appear."
Galadriel moved to Amorith, and she waved her hand in front of her, and Vanimë stood there, smiling at the Lady. They stood for a few moments silently facing each other.
"I accept this task freely," Vanimë said at last.
"You have asked for redemption, perhaps this is your path to receive it," Galadriel said. "You will know when to start. No one must know of your mission. Trust your heart."
"How shall you explain my absence?"
"The opportunity will present itself and you must seize it."
Vanimë nodded once. Amorith looked around her sadly, as if in a silent farewell.
"I do love this place dearly," she sighed.
"Should you return, all will not be the same, you must prepare yourself," Galadriel said, turning to leave. "And be careful, for everything has a heart in this world, even Lórien."
Amorith opened her mouth to ask what the Lady meant, but she found herself back in her talan. Outside, the night went on, but the air was heavy with mystery and grief.