The Trees Remember
Chapter Thirty-Five
"The Two Faces of Salvation"
A slit of light broke through Elrohir's hazy dreams. The bright spots dancing behind his eyes turned into gleaming whiteness as he pried his eyelids apart. A great dark shape with a halo surrounding it obscured his vision, and for a moment, he was concerned that he'd gone blind. All he could sense was humid wind against his face and a foul odor floating into his nostrils.
When he blinked, the world came into focus. A long pink tongue was oozing drool all over his face in an attempt to wake him. He recoiled immediately, but the gigantic beast moved with him, still licking frantically. Finally, Elrohir pushed the dog off of his chest. He recognized the golden behemoth of a dog as Mellon, Colin Walker's mutt, as he wiped the drool off of his cheek.
A moment later, Elladan and Legolas appeared in front of him, both expressing their concern. Over their shoulders, Elrohir watched in awe and relief as Mithrandir and Alatar battled. Brown could never overpower White.
Mellon whimpered loudly and clamped his enormous teeth into Elrohir's jerkin. He tugged at the material, but misjudged his own strength and ripped the fabric clear up to the leather. Elladan patted the dog's head.
"I think he wants us to follow him."
"We cannot leave Mithrandir," Legolas said.
At that moment, a loud crash and the sound of cracking metal accompanied Alatar flying over his desk.
"I think Mithrandir is doing fine. He would not have brought Mellon if this mangy beast could not serve a purpose," Elladan said.
The three warriors glanced at the battling Istari before following Mellon out of Alatar's office. With weapons still out, the Elves followed the dog through the labyrinth of corridors and stairwells. The few Germans they met in the hallways were clerks or secretaries who quickly dashed out of their way upon seeing swords and bows poised.
Mellon trotted down the final stairwell that lead to an underground car park. Rows of identical black vehicles filled the majority of the lot. Mellon sat down promptly and refused to move. The dog looked resolutely westward, utterly ignoring the Elves who tried to make him move by pushing him, tugging on his collar, and teasing him with some beef jerky. Mellon eyed the jerky hungrily, but remained in one spot.
Almost a full minute after the Elves had entered the car park, the sound of a roaring engine and squealing tires echoed through the garage. A white Volkswagen traveling at breakneck speed skidded around the corner, the bumper swerving dangerously close to a cement pillar. The gears groaned and brakes shrieked in protest as the driver brought the car to a lurching halt in front of the Elves. Colin Walker's grinning face appeared in the window a moment later.
"Mae Govannen. Care for a lift?"
The Elves greeted the boy warmly and piled into the car. A moment later, the car was speeding around to the front of the Reich Chancellery with three Elves in the backseat, and Mellon planted firmly in Elrohir's lap with his head hanging out the back window.
Meanwhile, up in the Fuehrer's office, Gandalf made one last sweeping arch with his staff. Alatar cowered from the fury of the White Wizard, once his brother in the Order of Istari. They were enemies of Alatar's making now, and the Brown Wizard knew he could not win this battle. His only concern now was to escape with his life.
"Alatar, your staff is broken," Olórin announced.
The Brown Wizard dropped the cracked iron staff onto the Turkish carpet. His face twisted in anger at the sight of the ruined iron against the red carpet. The symbolism did not escape him. Blood and Iron had united Germany, and his iron staff now lay broken on the blood red carpet.
"We were supposed to be messengers," the Brown wizard hissed. "Pallando and I went into the East as such. But you, you were always a little more. Vigilante, politician, warrior. What are you now, Olórin? Assassin of the Valar?"
The White Wizard surveyed his counterpart calmly. "I am still a messenger. This time I come on behalf of Námo."
Alatar's face twisted again, this time in terror. His skin turned white, and he stumbled backwards, as if moving away from Olórin would mean he did not have to hear the message from Mandos.
"Your Doom has been decided," Olórin continued. "Námo has declared that you will remain in Arda until the end of this war. You started it and you will see it to its end. Only then will you be brought back to Aman and imprisoned in Mandos." Seeing the flicker of relief in the Brown Wizard's eyes, Olórin hurried on. "Do not think you can win the war and therefore escape your doom. Oromë and Tulkas have sent messengers disguised as men to every Allied nation and leader of your Occupied Territory. You will be defeated, and when you are, Eönwë and I will return to Arda and escort you to Aman and Mandos."
Alatar drew himself up to his full height. "The legacy I leave shall stretch beyond my time here in Arda."
"Indeed," the White Wizard said sadly, "it will. However, if Elaneth were here, she would have reminded you that the Jewish people had been hated and persecuted before you came along. Even if you had not developed this heinous plan to murder them all, prejudice would have continued just like it always has. So, you see, you have not won. You are stripped of power, certain of defeat in this war, and have not changed the social order. You've done nothing except put a black mark on Germany's otherwise noble history. I think that is what people will call your legacy: a black mark."
Olórin turned towards the door suddenly, as if he had just heard something very important. When he turned back to Alatar, he inclined his head slightly. "I will be seeing you in a few years, Alatar. When Germany is lying in ruins because of your waywardness, Eönwë and I will come for you."
With that, he left the office. No one dared to hinder the White Wizard as he swept through the halls of the Reich Chancellery. Security guards and diplomats shrunk back into the shadows as he passed, fearful of the mighty presence lingering around him. Gandalf paid no attention to the wicked men who feared him. He burst through the front door and hurried into the Volkswagen waiting for him.
"Leave it to Gandalf to come out the front door," Colin laughed as the wizard dropped into the passenger's seat.
The tires squealed as Colin slammed his foot down on the accelerator and raced through the streets of Berlin. It wasn't the adventure he'd imagined when he dreamt of being like Aragorn Elessar, but for a boy in the 1940's, it was a damn good adventure all the same.
"Do you have to go so fast?" Elrohir grumbled, his words muffled by Mellon's thick fur.
"Yes," Gandalf said simply. "Alatar has no powers of his own any longer, but he still has legions of men in his service. We must get out of Germany immediately."
Legolas jolted suddenly, as if drawn out of a very deep reverie. "But what about Elaneth? And Haldir? Surely they have entered Germany. We cannot leave them."
Elladan, Elrohir, and Colin looked at the Wizard intently, but Gandalf gazed out of the passenger window with sad and tired eyes.
"I had hoped that they were close by. We could have helped them then. I mentioned Elaneth to Alatar, and I saw a flicker in his eyes when I did so. He has spoken with her recently."
Legolas nodded. "He said … he said that he had talked with her and Haldir."
Colin looked suddenly ill. "Then they are already dead. Or worse, on their way to a Concentration Camp."
Silence descended upon the car for a long moment. Horrible images of the work camps that Elaneth had described surfaced in the Elves' minds. Haldir and Elaneth would slowly lose the will to live and succumb to death to find healing in Mandos.
"Radagast has come with me," Mithrandir said. "He will send birds and beasts to look for them. If they are able to be found, his friends will see to it. Elaneth is a dear friend of his, and he will not abandon her. He is a gentle soul, but he will unleash his fury to free Elaneth and Haldir from the work camp, if that is where they are. Fear not, my friends, they are both strong and wise. They will find a way back to Eryn Lasgalen."
"And what of Pallando?" Elladan questioned. "Will we go to Italy now?"
"I have already dealt with Pallando," the White Wizard said calmly. "The fool. You know, he tried to run away from me. He actually bolted for the door."
Colin turned sharply onto a dirt road and zoomed through the countryside. The passengers were jostled by the dips and bumps, but the boy never slowed the car. After ten minutes of driving through clouds of dust, the car emerged into a barren field surrounded on three sides by trees. Sitting at the far end of the field was a black and white airplane.
Andre Walker waved from the cockpit and fired up the engines as Gandalf and Colin led the Elves across the field. The plane was larger and more comfortable than the one they had taken from Ireland to England, and they felt much safer with Andre in the pilot's seat. Twenty minutes later, they were soaring through the sky and leaving Germany behind them.
They could not know that their safe escape had plunged two of their companions into the darkest and most dangerous situation of the entire journey. Hidden deep beneath the Reich Chancellery, cloistered away in the most remote corner of the Fuehrer's Bunker, Haldir and Elaneth remained imprisoned, the vestiges of Alatar's magic concealing their presence from their friends.
Alatar lifted his eyes slowly, surveying the demolished room around him. The red carpet appeared blurry so close to his eyes, and his neck strained to peer over the top of his desk. Slowly, with shaking arms, he pushed himself onto his knees. The ruined splinters of his delicately crafted staff cut into his knees, drawing droplets of blood to the surface of his now mortal skin and staining the brown military uniform he wore.
The full length mirror hanging by the window reflected a haggard man with cropped black hair and bottlebrush moustache. He reached out slowly, as if touching the looking glass could make him morph into the powerful Istar who had ruled Germany. Horror bubbled up in the pit of his stomach as the full implications of his defeat settled in.
He was no longer Alatar the Brown, master of shapes and hues. He had no staff with which to cast powerfully dark magic upon the world. He was Maia in only the most basic sense: his immortal spirit could never be extinguished except by Ilúvatar alone. He had no powers and no identity save for what he had created for himself.
He was only Adolph Hitler, Fuehrer of Germany, no more than any mortal man could achieve.
Adolph's eyes drifted to the window. It was a glorious summer day. Birds chirped merrily, and the wind carried the pungent scent of blooming flowers. People on the street went about their daily routine as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, as if their sole chance of victory in the war had not just been stripped of his powers. Horror turned to white hot anger and surged through Adolph's veins like an unstoppable fire.
He had tens of thousands of men at his beck and call: pilots … sailors … soldiers. He had conquered three-fourths of the Continent and was steadily beating down Britain and that annoying Númenorean Prime Minister Churchill. If it weren't for the damnable American President jutting his overlarge Númenorean nose into matters that did not concern him, Adolph could already be ruling half the world.
"Elves and Númenoreans," he hissed vehemently.
They were almost as bad as the tribe of Bór … almost. They had done this to him … stripped him of all his powers … ruined him …. He had no doubt that Olórin's words were true. Soon-too soon for an immortal's comfort-the Allies would sweep through his defenses and utterly destroy Germany. They would give part of his country to the Soviets, and Germany would never have a chance to become a great power while divided between East and West.
Adolph conceded defeat. With the breaking of his staff, Germany was beginning a slow descent to destruction. But that was some years away, and while Maiar did not measure time as shortly as men, or even Elves, Adolph had adapted to the ways of men during his many years living among them. He knew how much damage could be caused in the span of a few years. Mass destruction was nearly guaranteed with modern weapons. And Adolph had plenty of weapons.
He turned from the mirror slowly, the faintest of smiles twisting his lips maliciously. Yes, those weapons were awesome in power, but Adolph had an even better tool at his disposal than bombs and mustard gas.
He had knowledge and the courage to use it.
"Schwartz!" he barked, knowing that the man must be lingering somewhere nearby awaiting instructions.
The officer halted just inside the door and saluted abruptly. Adolph beckoned for him to close the door and sit down. The man's eyes drifted around the demolished office, but he refrained from asking questions. Adolph thought that Schwartz's pragmatism was one of his best qualities. This man had true courage. He tortured and condemned prisoners every day without even the slightest flicker of guilt or hesitation because it was for the good of all Germany that traitors and spies suffer. Adolph was deeply impressed by his unswerving loyalty and absolute mastery of conscience. This man would be able to do what no other soldier could.
"I want you to kill the Elves," Adolph began.
He paused, waiting for the man's reaction.
"Only tell me how you wish them killed, and I will do it," Schwartz replied.
"Excellent."
Adolph's mouth twisted again. He was going to thoroughly enjoy this. Elaneth Idhriniel was going to pay for her smart mouth and haughty attitude. She thought herself strong and courageous; Adolph would push her to her limits. She didn't hesitate to muddy Adolph's name; he would gladly return the favor.
The march warden who had so foolishly fallen prey to her charms would have to be punished as well. Alatar had noticed the strength of will and unyielding commitment to his station from the moment he had met the Elf. It would be harder, much harder, to break him, but it had to be done. With him beside her, Elaneth would never stop hoping for the healing of Estë in Valinor.
"As you know, Elves can die in battle or simply lose the will to live and diminish. If I order these two particular Elves directly killed, my immortal soul is as good as condemned to the Void for all eternity."
Schwartz tried very hard to look impassive, no matter how insane the Fuehrer sounded.
"These Elves will not simply give up and die. They're too arrogant and stubborn for that. They will have to be forced to fade. Summon every virile soldier at your disposal and let them have their way with the precious Elaneth. Make sure the march warden watches. When she's dead, send Haldir to Auschwitz with strict instruction that he does not go the gas chambers."
As Schwartz descended the stairs into the Bunker, he could not help but contemplate the heavy weight settling in his chest. He wasn't a particularly religious man. Interrogators couldn't contemplate morality and the afterlife and do their jobs properly. But Wilhelm Schwartz knew without a doubt that if he issued the order to rape the elleth and send the ellon to Auschwitz, he would be ordering his own eternal damnation.
As his shadow fell across the dank jail cell, the elleth looked up at him resolutely. She had known this would happen all along, Schwartz suddenly realized. For her, it hadn't been a matter of if, but when.
"I respect your bravery," he admitted.
"Enough to grant me one last request?" she asked in flawless German. Wilhelm nodded. "I'm a wood-elf. I need to die in the forest."
Schwartz watched her for a long moment. Her icy blue gaze cut deeply into his soul, tearing open the emotions he had so carefully walled up when he became an interrogator. Finally, slowly, he nodded.
"Does her Highness demand a specific location?"
She blinked slowly and said in a whisper, "As long as there are trees that remember me."