Chapter Six

Lessons on Pain

Elrond pressed a hot cup of tea into Aldaya's hands as Celebrían tried to get her to stop crying. Aldaya had been positively hysterical when she got back to his and Celebrían's house. Elrond had already sent for Elrohir, but Elrohir's house was several minutes walk from Elrond's, and he knew it could be a half an hour before Elrohir got there.

The tea had a very mild tranquilizer in it, the dosage so small Elrond wondered if it would even work on Aldaya in her state. After drinking the tea, though, she became sleepy, and stopped crying. Celebrían helped her lie down on the couch, and covered her warmly, sitting by her side and stroking her hair. "Poor baby," Celebrían said over and over again.

Elrohir appeared a moment later, a sleepy Tindómë trotting along behind him, hand in hand with his father. Elrond coaxed Tindómë out of the room, and Celebrían discreetly disappeared. Elrohir smoothed back Aldaya's hair. Aldaya opened her eyes, wearily, the drug taking full effect. She managed to push herself up onto her elbows. "Elrohir?" she mumbled.

Elrohir sat down on the cough and drew her into his arms, kissing her forehead gently as she leaned against him. "Elrohir," she sighed, too tired to mourn further.

"Shh," Elrohir soothed, caressing her as she drifted off to sleep. "Shh. Hush now, rest. You're exhausted."

"Daddy," she mumbled, and then she was asleep.

*     *     *     *

"I just don't understand her anymore," Elrohir said to his father later that day. Tindómë was playing with Celebrían in the room over. "She was always so perky and happy. But she's seemed so tense and unhappy lately. I don't know why. Is it something I'm doing? Is it just her? Is it both of us?"

"Elrohir, you must understand," Elrond said with a shake of his head, "along with becoming elven, Aldaya began remembering her past life—she remembers her father dying in front of her, no doubt, and her betrayal by her mother. She remembers her struggles to get away—and undoubtedly her own death." Elrond leaned back and watched his son closely. "The shock of remembering her death is no doubt near-traumatic. Humans view death as the end of everything, and she still holds that view. The thought of rebirth is frightening to her, to say the least. And she feels terribly out pf place. Being and acting elven is not just a way of moving or acting, of physical beauty or warrior prowess—it's a way of life, and a philosophy. A way of looking at things and a way of looking at yourself that Aldaya has not yet adopted. Because of that, some elves see her as an imposter, as a threat—as a human."

"What am I to do, then?"

"Only time—time and knowledge—can heal her wounds. Be patient."

"Do you think that Tindómë…that he…"

"Made Aldaya's recovery—first from her memory, and now this—more difficult? Quite the contrary. He may be the key to helping her climb her way out of the abyss into which she has stumbled. Actually, I'm surprised you managed to have a child at all."

Elrohir sat upright, anger reflecting on his face. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"I mean that, or so the prophecies said, you sister was to be the last elven-child born. The fact that this is disproved is…disturbing."

"Disturbing? How?"

"Your son could have an unusual life ahead of him, Elrohir. And if I'm not quite mistaken, Aldaya could, as well."
*     *     *     *

"Sing to me, papa," a younger and more innocent Aldaya pleaded to her father, her arms rapped around his neck. Silruin leaned back against the chair he had built with his own hands and looked down with an affectionate smile at his pride and joy, his little daughter. "All right," he relented as she gave him her more imploring look. "But then you must rest, agreed?"

"Yes, papa." She snuggled against him, burying her face in his shoulder.

Silruin began to sing in a quiet, melodic tenor, his voice weaving dreams of butterflies and wildflowers, rocking Aldaya. The child put her thumb in her mouth and fell asleep on her father's shoulder. Silruin continued to rock her, not wanting the precious moment to end.

Aldaya thrashed under the covers, knowing the memory that came next, and not wanting to relive it yet again.

A thunderous knock startled both father and daughter. Aldaya sat up, confused and afraid. "Papa?" she said as Silruin slid her into the chair and stood up. "Who is that?"

"I don't know," Silruin answered with a slight frown. He listened at the door for a moment, but could only hear the sound of quick breathing. A human, then.

Silruin opened the door, expecting it to be one of the farmers he lived near, asking for help with a small fire or some such thing.

Instead it was an enraged Beren, his sword in his hand. "Tramp!" he roared as he plunged the sword deep into Silruin's chest. Silruin gasped, tried to speak, but blood came out of his mouth, and out of the gaping hold in his chest and back as Beren brutally wrenched the sword from the elf's body. Silruin collapsed into a bloodied heap.

"Papa!" Aldaya screamed. She looked into the terrible eyes of Beren and backed away.

"Don't hurt her!" came a sharp voice from behind, and Luthien seized hold of Beren's arm. Beren snarled and yanked free, but by the Aldaya had scrambled out of the window and out behind the house.

Long did she run, until the moon was near-set, and the sky was growing light. She paused, wiped the tears from her eyes and heard the unmistakable sound of elvish music, and the quiet swish of elven clothing as they danced.

Aldaya stepped forward, and saw a group of Noldor elves dancing under the fading stars, laughing and swinging each other through the dance.

Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered her precious Papa, and the horrible man who had killed him. She burst into tears. The elves, startled, immediately disappeared; but seeing the small, crying elven child they quickly came back out and encircled her, trying to find out what was the matter.

"He killed my papa!" she said shrilly. "I hate him! He killed my papa!"

Aldaya jerked upright in bed, her body drenched with sweat. Throwing off the covers she ran to the window and opened it, letting the cool sea breeze dry her off, all the while trying to dim the memories that shone so clear in her mind.

She rushed around her room, throwing on her clothes. Listening at the door she could hear Elrond and Elrohir talking. Aldaya silently shook her head. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Quickly she opened her window and slipped out, running around the house and to the stables.

Elrohir's horse, Aldebaran was there, and she quickly sprang onto his back. "Take me where I can be alone," she told the horse in elvish, and he responded, breaking into a soundless and ground-covering gallop.

Aldebaran took her along a little-used path with the cliff and sea to her left, and the silent, brooding forest to her right. The seagulls screamed, and the surf pounded the rocks below.

Aldaya rode long that day, nearly half-way around the isle, choosing not to go to the beach below, but staying up on the cliff. Sea-spray stung her eyes, but she did not notice. Her mind was wrapped around the sights and sounds from nearly ten thousand years ago.

Almost without thinking, she dismounted and walked to the edge of the cliff, feeling the wind tug at her clothes. Shielding her eyes from the spray with one hand she looked out over the crashing sea. In the distance, she could see several sailing ships riding the waves.

If she had been thinking, if she had noticed her surroundings, she would have noticed Aldebaran's nervous whinny, would have noticed how unstable the rock she stood on was. Would have noticed the ground giving way before it was too late.

Aldebaran screamed and backpedaled hard, managing to get off the sliding ground before he was caught in the slide. Aldaya was not so lucky.

Down she fell, rolling and tumbling, striking boulders and boulders striking her. At long last she came to rest on the beach, nearly a hundred foot drop. She stared up at the sky spinning above her and remembered.

She was a beautiful elf-woman, strong and tall, stern and kind, wise beyond her one thousand years. She stood with her lover, smiling, waiting for him to ask her to marry him. They stood in an ancient grove of redwoods, the starlight filtering down through the thick canopy.

Aldaya saw his eyes widen in horror, saw him step back, saw the arrow burst from his throat. She stared at him, numb, as he fell. In his face she saw her father.

A second arrow took her through the heart as she spun around and tried to flee. It went deeper and deeper into her flesh, and she thought she could feel no more pain, scream no more until she saw the hideous creature step into the clearing. It was a mockery of the elves, she knew, but the site was no more terrifying to a young elf who had never before seen an orc.

She was still alive as it raised its horribly curved blade above its head, and decapitated her.

Aldaya lay out under the darkening sky, trembling, and remembered.