Chapter Nine
Ëmara found herself that evening upon the balcony adjacent to her room, staring into the inky blackness of the night. There were neither stars nor moon, all emissaries of light seemed to hide from her eyes, as even the candlelight from her room did not extend onto the balcony floor.
Something troubled her as she scanned the darkness, picking out trees and structures to occupy her mind. It could not have been Leomë's narrative, for every word had been true and all had come about as she had thought it would. Perhaps it was now, now that she had partially satiated the desire to be freed from her burden of truth, that she wished for all to know the entire story.
It was not so easy as it sounded, for even the truth of the ending had been withheld from Leomë for fear that he would have abandoned her instantly. She struggled within herself for hours upon hours, watching the faint gray outlines of the passing clouds dance to and fro in a wreath about the moon.
Ëmara had decided that she must leave that night, a task that was no more difficult than stealing a horse from the stables and making her way out of the forest. She found that whenever she made her mind up to leave however, she was constantly stopped by an overwhelming desire that someone should know the whole truth before she disappeared from Middle Earth.
'My mind shall give me no rest! I shall then write out my thoughts in a letter and address it to the King, may he do with it as pleases him.' With this in mind, she sat down at a small bed table and procured from the drawers a pen and ink well along with several sheets of paper. Her letter ran as thus:
Your Highness,
As it was brought to your attention by the words of my confidant, Leomë, I have deceived you all. This treachery was with no evil intent, although as my words continue you may think otherwise. Believe that I would have brought no harm to this people, for elves are the only kindred I have known my many lonely years.
It is true that my creator was Morgoth. I was hailed as his greatest creation, an evil entity with the visage of an elven woman. What he failed to see and failed to predict, was that along with embodying the form of an elf, I also inherited the compassion of the Eldar race. When Morgoth discovered my 'weakness' for emotion, he banished me from Angband to roam the lands of Belirand alone- with no friends amongst the creations of the Valar and no allies amongst the minions of my master. Upon my leaving he predicted the fall of his empire to be met with the rise of one who was under his tutoring and from there the powers of evil would be broken by the power of an unending circle. It was at the sundering of this second evil that a third would rise…from the race of the elves.
I wandered for many years in Belirand, living as a savage without homeland or hearth to call my own. It was through the earth that I learned of the eminent breaking of Morgoth's hold and of the destruction to befall Belirand. I determined that there was only one direction to travel- to the south. In the north lay only barren wastelands of ice and the home of my master, to the west sat only an endless expanse of sea (for unlike the elves of pure decent, I have a shyness of the sea and dare not tempt my fate upon its waters) and to the east lay lands to be broken as well by Morgoth's fury. Therefore to the south I tarried, carrying little with me and making haste to reach safety before the War of the Jewels reached a fever pitch.
Many were frightened and I met scores of travelers seeking a safer haven to sit the war out in. I was not afraid- I suppose I have never been afraid of death, in fact I have asked for it daily ever since I was left abandoned. It was during this time that I passed through a forest in search of food and came across an elder elf and his son, a child whom I found to be pretentious but kind. The man asked if I would take his son into safety, a summons to war had pulled him from the safety of his home and yet he could not rush into danger when the life of his child hung in the balance.
As you have guessed, I am sure, the young ward I took into my keeping was Leomë. We made our way quickly into what has now become known as Middle Earth and there we stayed upon the borders of the two hemispheres, for I felt something keeping me near the land of my creator.
When Belirand fell into the sea there was a terrible shaking and heaving of the land and we feared for our lives; the hold of Morgoth no longer held sway over me and we fled deep into Middle Earth. After many years, Leomë began to notice that I never seemed to "age" (As a credit to the race of the elves, I use the word "age" merely to indicate the passing of time- for I am well aware that you do not grow older, you simply grow more beautiful and elegant with the passing years. Leomë was quick to notice that my countenance held no such beauty and that I never seemed to be touched by the years that passed us by.) and upon his asking of my heritage, I explained all to him. It was better that I did not impart the curse of Morgoth upon my spirit to Leomë, for he would not have understood nor would he have trusted me.
It was in the forest of Lorien that we made our home, using Leomë's name as a means for establishing lineage to the elven race. It was his idea to travel as brother and sister for the purpose of avoiding complicated questions. During the many years we spent in Lorien, I lived in constant fear that the second part of my master's prophecy would come true. When it seemed that all was silent in the land I fell at peace and happily married one of the Lorien hunters, Dîniath of the house of Limlias.
At the rise of Sauron I saw my worst fears realized. It was also during this time that I came to discover the powers I held within my body. Morgoth's power had come to dwell inside of me and I found that I could manipulate matter with my mind and read the thoughts of man. I told no one save Leomë, even my faithful husband did not know of my powers.
What I did not tell Leomë was that the powers I were receiving were also being born with new and terrible ideas, thoughts of darkness and evil that frightened me more than any of the other changes within my skin.
Dîniath had sensed changes in me and although I knew that I loved him, the blackness prevented me from showing just how much. Distraught he went to fight in the wars without thought of fighting, thinking he did not have my love and therefore was killed almost immediately. The guilt and pain I suffered were immeasurable; my own self became loathsome to my mind.
Every day since has seen my withdrawal from the races of Man and Elves, and at the breaking of Sauron my powers increased a hundredfold, giving way to little doubt that Morgoth's predictions would come true. It was with a mind bent towards death that I left Lorien, convinced that I would kill myself and thus end the prophecy of my maker. His powers did not end with his destruction it was clear, for every chance I took was met with only injuries of minor significance.
Now my narrative comes to a close, for all that transpired upon my entering into Mirkwood has been witnessed first hand by those of the kingdom.
Think not that I mean to stay in your forest. Fear and prejudice are far worse to live with than loneliness and therefore I shall take my chances alone. By the time this letter is received and read I shall have disappeared into the night, far from those I could harm.
I thank you for your hospitality; it is to remain my final happy memory.
Ëmara
She did not read the letter again but instead folded it thrice and sealed it, picking up her pen to address it. As the nib hovered above the parchment she wondered at delivering it to Thranduil, for there was someone else whom she felt she owed an explanation. After thinking for a few moments she picked up a clean sheet of paper and writing two sentences upon it, folded it and addressed it along with the letter.
With the letters in hand, she quietly walked out into the hallway, hearing nothing aside from the scampering of a tiny mouse's feet. Without glancing back she slipped down the hallway to the Great Hall and left the letter where it was sure to be found the next morning.
^***^
The stables were empty of all elves at this time of night, leaving Ëmara only to select a horse and be on her way. From amongst the noble steeds stamping in their stalls at the presence of a stranger, she chose a large bay-colored mare with the clear markings of a horse of Rohan. The bay stamped and whinnied, disliking the feelings she was receiving from the stranger. Ëmara, nonplussed but rather annoyed, brought a comforting song to the horse through the use of her mind, placating the beast and affording her time to mount the bay and be off.
High above the dim courtyard, pacing sleeplessly, two eyes watched the departure of Ëmara, recognizing the bay from the stables and noting the small black figure astride the mare.
'Let her leave…and let her never return.'