A/N - Many thanks to you for the review there, Jules14! The support is much appreciated!
Last Temptation/Battling Bard (the name change threw me a bit for a minute) - thank you again! I'm afraid this chapter's fairly uneventful also, but it should improve from here on in!
Chapter 20 – Unquiet Hearts
A thick, vivid darkness gathered upon Doriath. The shades of midnight swirled murkily about the trees, which reared up into the sky like twisting shadows, blacker than the gloom itself. No gleam of star or moon embellished the oblivious heavens, as though the white starlight had been asphyxiated by a colossal fist of darkness.
No such blinding shadow had Thaliondil ever known, or imagined, as he sat shivering upon the cold ground. His grey eyes rose to the chasm of emptiness, which hung huge and ravenous above him. He wrapped his arms about his chest. His heavy breath broke through the mute stillness, and he closed his eyes wearily. He would rest tonight, and continue his wandering when the sun awoke.
The darkness was somehow a part of him; as though the shadows which stalked the landscape of his mind had seeped from within him into the world about, staining it blacker as hatred. Never in all his life had he felt so alone, yet who could he truly hold accountable for his isolation, save himself? He had gone forth from Menegroth, upon the very afternoon of his arrival there, leaving no word or sign of his intentions. Why had he done such a thing? He was unsure; yet after all these weeks of wandering the wilds, he had felt strangely trapped by the stone walls of his chamber, like a caged animal. The free air, and the silence, and the darkness had beckoned him, and he had followed its call.
The events of the past few weeks rose constantly before his blinded eyes, as though anguish had etched them indelibly into his memory. With only the emptiness before him there was nothing to separate him from the past; nothing else to focus upon. Yet this was, in a way, what he had desired. He had needed time alone with his grief. He had never been sensitive by nature, and any sorrow in his life he had simply endured without question. Even the death of his mother had not broken him, and had simply made him more cold and solemn than he had been before. Yet never had he been faced with such horror as this. He closed his eyes, yet his view of the unbroken darkness remained the same.
Thaliondil breathed deeply. Though his heart was heavy, he had come to his senses once more. For days he had been alone, cloaked in a strange dizzy confusion which, in hindsight, he half-suspected to be the first stirrings of madness. Yet now he was slowly making his way back to Menegroth, for with a sudden pang of remorse he remembered Tinuial. Why had he not bade her farewell? Surely she was the only one left in all the world who cared for him. His dear sister, who grew and changed so swiftly, while he remained ever the same. Days had passed since his departure, though he knew not how many, and Tinuial would surely fear by now that he had abandoned her, or perished. Yet by his reckoning he was not now far from the halls of Thingol, and would probably arrive there upon the following day. With these thoughts in mind, and many others, he drifted slowly into a dark, empty sleep.
Thaliondil stirred, and lifted his stony gaze to the awakening heavens. The ashen sun rose swiftly, as though riding upon the fitful wind, which fluttered upon the air in torn fragments, ripping at the white feathery clouds. The shuddering breeze chilled him to the bone, and with a fierce effort, he hauled himself to his feet shivering violently. He rubbed at his tired eyes, and grimaced at the sky. His neck ached as he turned his head, trying to remember in which direction Menegroth lay. At last, he started off to the North, the grey, imposing trees obscuring him from the rays of the uncomfortable dawn. He made his way sullenly towards Menegroth, his path winding amid the trees.
The day progressed hesitantly, and though it was now an hour past noon the sun remained pale and deathly, doing little to warm or brighten the watery sky. Of a sudden, Thaliondil was startled out of his gloomy thoughts by the sudden appearance of a figure before him, advancing swiftly from the darkness of the trees. He jumped violently, and the figure froze. It was the form of a man, who stood tall and unmoving, the high branches of the trees casting shadows about him, and veiling his face. The gleam of blue eyes shot through the gloom like icy steel. There was something familiar about his countenance, and though he stood only a few feet away, he could barely be seen. Thaliondil was unnerved, such as he had rarely been before, and had his pride allowed it he may have turned and fled. Unwilling to betray his apprehension, however, he strode immediately forward and stood directly before the silent man. It was Nurram. Thaliondil sighed, and wondered vaguely why he had been so disturbed.
'My friend!' Nurram declared in a slightly uncertain tone, as though his speech was forced. 'Whither do you go?'
'I now return to Menegroth.' Thaliondil replied haltingly, gazing suspiciously at Nurram.
'You are perhaps lost?' Nurram asked, smiling awkwardly. 'I can lead you to the halls if you so wish, for you may not easily gain entry if you are not accompanied by a guard or huntsmen. The King's Guards are wary indeed, and if they do not recognise you...' He trailed off slowly, and shot Thaliondil a questioning glance. Thaliondil frowned, a little confused.
'I would be most grateful if you would lead me to the gates,' he affirmed in a low voice. 'Unless you have more pressing business to attend to?'
'I have not,' Nurram replied simply. He smiled, yet a strange gleam of sorrow lurked behind his bright eyes, and Thaliondil was now utterly bemused.
Gloaming seeped from the dusky sky, and the frowning clouds deepened as they glared down at the sombre earth. Yet all was bright and fair in the halls of Menegroth, and a gentle music floated upon the glistening air like a soft, sighing breeze. Thaliondil stalked through the passages, puzzling silently over the odd behaviour of Nurram. On their journey to Menegroth, he had barely spoken a word, save to bid Thaliondil farewell when they reached the gate, which was most out of character. He had indeed been far more talkative on their previous travels, as Thaliondil recalled all too clearly, having found him distinctly irritating. And had it been purely his imagination, or had Nurram's eyes brimmed with sparkling tears on several occasions, as though he endlessly fought the overwhelming urge to weep?
'Thaliondil!' Cried a sudden voice from behind him. Thaliondil wheeled round, and found himself face to face with Carnil. He did not reply, but stood mute and sullen as Carnil regarded him angrily with his gleaming green eyes.
'Where have you been?' Carnil demanded forcefully, glaring directly at him. His face was cast slightly downward, for though mortal, he was the taller of the two by several inches, and a great deal more muscular; whereas Thaliondil was wiry and lithe, almost feeble in comparison. As though acutely aware of this, the Elf drew himself up to his full height, and glared.
'It is none of your concern.' Thaliondil answered coldly, his dauntless eyes as impenetrable as ever. He turned to leave, but Carnil would not allow him to escape so easily. He seized Thaliondil's shoulder, and hauled him back, dragging him round to face him once more. Thaliondil was weary and did not resist, yet the scorn with which he glared at the mortal was quite startling, and Carnil hesitated a moment in the face of such unmitigated abhorrence. In truth, Thaliondil harboured no particular loathing against Carnil, yet his old fury had begun to well up within him. When such a fell mood was upon him, he hated all the world, and each one of those who dwelt therein. Yet most of all, he hated himself.
'I do not comprehend your rage,' Carnil said in a slightly stricken voice. 'Yet no matter; if you wish to despise me then it is your own affair, though I maintain that in no way have I wronged you. I care not what you think of me – and for that matter, I think not highly of you either – yet I shall not allow you to distress Tinuial any further! Do you not care for her at all? Did you not think she would be distraught at your disappearance? Almost a week you have been gone, and not a single thought did you give her!' His voice grew steadily harsher, until he was almost shouting. Thaliondil made no reply, and shifted his gaze to the gleaming floor, unwilling to endure the accusation in Carnil's eyes. He was right, of course, though Thaliondil did not plan to admit it. He gritted his teeth in rage. Yet all his burning fury was focused inwards, upon himself. The sheer intensity of his emotion robbed him of speech.
'What say you?' Carnil cried, seeing the hate within Thaliondil's eyes.
'There is perhaps nothing to be said.' Thaliondil answered thickly.
'You must go to your sister at once!' Carnil exclaimed fiercely, now quite exasperated. He wondered at the fact that Thaliondil, after such reckless and uncaring behaviour, would dare to treat him with such contempt. Yet more than aught else, he was appalled by the extent of Tinuial's sorrow when she had believed Thaliondil to be dead. Thaliondil truly was dear to her. Foster-brother though he was, Carnil barely understood how she could feel such fondness for the foul Elf. He himself would not grieve were he never again to set eyes upon Thaliondil, but for Tinuial's sake.
'I cannot meet with my sister tonight,' Thaliondil insisted obstinately. 'I must rest.' He turned and withdrew from Carnil.
'And what would you have me tell her?' Carnil demanded at Thaliondil's retreating back. 'That you are alive and quite well, and yet you refuse to see her! Little will that do to comfort her!' Yet he allowed the Elf to depart, and made no move to follow him. It was probably wise, he decided, that Thaliondil did not visit Tinuial in his current mood. He sighed wearily, and turned away.