'Beneath the stars of Ever-eve, in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.'
- The Lord of the Rings
JRR Tolkien
~
Journey
For Cirdan
- Part two
There was no straight road leading where she wished to go. Indeed, after a while, she began to wonder if she only knew where she wished to go. Unsure, doubting herself, she wandered to and fro, for two days, after which, eventually making a decision, she whispered her wish in her horse's right ear. The next hour or so, she had crossed the Esgalduin, and was riding at a fast pace along the borders of Neldoreth.
It was madness, she knew. If Tol-in-Gauroth had once been the bright and proud Tol Sirion, fort of dear Inlgorion and the children of Finarfin; it had long ago fallen into the hands of Sauron, Morgoth's first captain. For long and dreary years, the tower had been turned, darkness in its most sombre form dwelling in its secret depths; depths made for light, made for beauty and hope. No one passed by the small isle on the river with a chance of ever actually passing; no one engaged in the Pass of Sirion with a sane mind and still some cutting shards of hope stuck in their skull. Yet Tol-In-Gauroth had fallen, it had been said. A whirlwind of insane words had swept by the stone-old stillness of Menegroth; two fleeting silhouettes of white and black had come, come but never stayed, leaving behind them unbelieving bewilderment, yet a new but bitter spring.
There was a white stone there, they said, standing on a green grave; but around it nothing else to mark the place where stayed the tower of Finrod.
It took her three days of journeying to arrive at the Pass of Sirion; yet during the trip she met with no Orcs nor any creature of the darkness. Rustles in the leaves of the forest around, unrest in the powerful current of Sirion; unknown beasts or birds stealing away in the grass or springing from the bushes; nothing else.
And at first she looked over the great plains with despair. One white tower stood there, far away; seeming so far away she immediately felt she could never reach it by any power under her command. Yet it was not the tower of Minas Tirith. Another white tower erected out of nothing, foolish hopes, blind and deaf; its high windows of stained glass shone at a distance, blinding the eye from afar. But of the tower of Guard no trace was left, and she saw no green grave standing out against the endless plains of dancing grass.
Desperation seized her heart. Slowly, she slid down from her saddle, and began to lead her horse into the great plain; the tall, dry grass reached up to her shoulders.
It was early morning when she started, yet when at last she reached the base of the high tower the sun was already setting; and she stood under the long shadow of the building of alabaster and tilted her head back to embrace its full height. The gate to the inside of the tower was made of steel, sound, valiant steel; but the hinges were rusted and it had been thrown wide open, as if someone who had taken the trouble to erect such an stronghold could have left the doors gaping in such a way.
The hollow it left in the walls seemed only too inviting. She left her horse outside in the night and began to slowly climb the rotating staircase that led to the top of the tower. There were many doors along the upgoing way, but all of them were locked; hard as she tried, the silver keys stayed firmly put in the keyholes and refused to budge. She went on, and was stopped in her climbing only when she reached the top-floor; for the staircase ended there and she could climb no further.
There was someone sitting by the window. It was only a small window compared to the other monstrously high ones; yet it was the only one in the room. It was dirty, and very dirty at that; one could hardly see through the glass. The room itself was smaller than what it seemed like from the outside, and the apparent luxury of the stained-glass she had seen was almost sadly denied by the bareness of that one small room: there was only one chair, that which the other elf sat on. It was an old chair, too, very worn out; and a bit of the backrest had broken off, lying unheeded on the ground.
At first, the motionless silhouette by the window did not seem to acknowledge her existence, and she could only see the rich mass of shoulder-length black curls which fell on its back. She coughed lightly so as to make her presence known.
Slowly, not the least startled, the sitting elf turned around, and she recognized him at last. The face she had to present at that moment had to be an uncommonly hilarious sight, she deemed; for upon seeing her, his mouth curled into a smile, and soon, as sheer weight of bewilderment and disbelief forbade her to utter a single sound, a joyous laugh emerged from his throat.
"Hail then, my cousin. What brings you here alone, so far from your dwellings and those of your lord?"
She blinked. Silence took over the small room, and when one full minute did not seem to alter the incomprehensive nature of her stare his smile gradually faded into a guilty look.
"I'm sorry." He stood, and bowed slightly. He had always been tall, she remembered. Taller still he seemed now, though there was no specific reason for it to be.
"Why are you here?" She demanded to know. "Rumour says you are in the South."
The dark-haired elf looked up, arching a thin eyebrow.
"Is it so? I did not know." he mused. "I wonder who thought about this one first. I have always been here."
She snapped her mouth shut the moment she realized it had been hanging open. For the second time in her life, words failed her. There were too many questions to ask, and none of them seemed at first sight to be less ridiculous than the others.
"And why are you not in your City?"
It was Turgon's turn to look upon her in puzzlement.
"City? What do you speak of? I have no city; only this tower."
She laughed.
"You know what I'm speak of. You were there at the Nirnaeth. You brought your people out. Don't tell me you don't remember. At the beginning you took a third of your father's host and went to hide yourself away in some unknown place and no one ever knew how to reach you in times of peace or war."
After that, there was only silence, as they stared at each other both lacking understanding. Then he shook his head, and spoke again.
"And why are you here?"
"I visit my brother."
Under his blank stare, she wondered if he had not gone mad a little bit after all. No, she berated herself. We cannot allow ourselves to become mad. We cannot, and he must know that. Therefore he could not have allowed himself to become mad.
"You will not find him here." he said. "For Finrod walks beneath the trees in Eldamar and comes no more to the grey world of tears and war." And from the absent look on his face she devised he had most probably learnt this sentence by heart from one book or another.
"You have not seen him either, I believe?"
He sighed, and turned to the window again.
"He is there, isn't he? He is right there. Nothing between us; only mountains and rivers. And yet I have not gone. I have sat by this window for days and days and I have not gone; for I cannot leave my place at this window. It would be too hard on me."
"Come with me then."
He shuddered.
"Come with me, and I will lead you to him." Turgon kept intent on staring at the dirty window. Suddenly, she felt ashamed of holding out her hand to someone who obviously did not care, who did not see; yet she did not take it back. "Stop staring at the window. It is so soiled you can hardly see a thing anyways."
Three seconds passed like five eternities, then he suddenly spun round to face her.
"I can't. I can't leave her. Do you not understand?"
~
The yellow grass stretched into a distance further than what her eyes could see.
"You were right. He was not there."
"I knew it." He looked away from her eyes. "But don't worry. We will be going to him soon. To him, and to all the others."
She shrugged, and turned to glare at the landscape instead.
"And may I ask what made you realize so suddenly that your legs had in fact not become roots that dug into the marble?"
"Pardon me?"
"I asked you if I was entitled to know why you so suddenly decided that you could move again?"
He looked at her in utter confusion. A sigh of exasperation escaped her lips.
"I could almost believe you were sincere." She sneered. "Too bad your memory's so short."
Then she dug her heels deep into the flanks of her horse and darted across the plain in a wild gallop, not waiting to look back.
~
"Where are we headed to?" His voice drifted, lost amidst the roar of the wind and the beating of her frantic pulse.
She did not know.
"To the Sea!" she cried. "South along the river and then to the Sea!"
~