Surrogate Jewels - Chapter Thirteen
Maglor
I watch the dreadful scene before me with all my might -meaning perhaps through my insistent stare to somehow will the children to live- while my helpless hands twitch nervously at my sides, as the senior nursemaid and her assistant treat their patients in the washing basin. Using a clay pitcher, they douse the twins alternatively in cool and then hot water, all the while rubbing their limbs vigorously. The children lie as quiet and motionless during the process as they had laid moments ago atop a sick bed, whilst the same Healers examined them at my orders.
'They have fallen into despair,' the apprentice had said then, in a tone of voice suggesting I should have already known as much. And perhaps I did, but that was at the time entirely besides the point.
I grasped unknowingly for the hilt of my sword, forgetting I did not carry it indoors. "Can you bring them back?"
The assistant backed away from me, stiff with apprehension, and the senior nursemaid spoke up in her place. 'We will certainly try, Lord Maglor. I have seen it accomplished before, successfully, and with an orphan as well, no less.' Her eyes turned remorseful. 'Though I have also seen the attempt fail, when the mind was already too far-gone. But let us hope that only the bodies of these two are now unresponsive, and within their hearts the will to endure yet remains. For young flesh is easily stimulated, but not so simply is the desire to live instilled.'
I nearly broke then, but settled for shouting. 'And before this said practice of rejuvenation, is it commonplace to stand about speaking of action and reminiscing of the past while the Despairing lie more still than in death?'
The Healers were immediately a blur of motion; sputtering apologies to me and hissing orders at each other.
Which swiftly led us here, an annexed wash room in the Healers Ward. The scent of basting herbs is pungent in the air, and I know not if that or stark worry is causing the sickness in my stomach.
A prepared concoction of some sort is now being coerced down the children's throats. It smells to me of warm and fruity alcohol, though I cannot be sure why liquor would be administered in this case. And I care not; I only hope it works. I pray it works.
Please... Iluvatar, Valar, do not abandon them. Show them another way, offer them hope, grant them happiness... Save them. Spare them. Be merciful, have pity... please.
I turn away at once, disgusted with myself. Who am I to pray for such things... things that... that cannot simply be dealt away or handed over.
Or can they?
I think on this, and like not what I conclude.
I ask for nothing that I myself cannot provide. I can show them another way -salvation- I can offer them hope -rescue- I can grant them happiness -freedom-
I saved them in Sirion because of mercy, spared them out of pity.
Then it is final: I know what I must do... if only it is not already too late.
I turn back to face the room, a few new lines of sorrow no doubt creasing my face. And the children, to my relief and surprise, have responded to the life-preserving ministrations of their caretakers by waking! Someone pushes by me, but so distracted am I that I think not twice about it. Someone else steps on my foot in the bustling commotion of the room, and that too bothers me little; in fact I hardly even feel the near-weightless Elven-foot walking over mine.
All my attention is bent on the two now crying children across the way. They seem impossibly far from me, and I so wish that I could hold them in my arms... I wish they would want me to.
I see one of them try to get out of the tub, but he is gently forced to stay, and seems temporarily discouraged. I am hard pressed to keep myself in place, and not charge to his side and provide whatever he desires. He recovers his determination and struggles to get out again, making numerous tries, his best efforts repeatedly thwarted.
The other twin is crying louder of the pair... I think it is his own way of struggling physically, instead of his brother's method of testing his strength against half a dozen grown elves who could each easily restrain him one-handed.
The din is almost ear-shattering. At first I internally agreed with the treatment being administered, but... has it not gone on for long enough? They are well revived, after all. The children both wail and fuss now, trying equally as hard to get away, to get out. I can see even from across the room where I stand, logically out of the way, that their flesh is reddened from friction and the varying exposure to extreme heat and contrasting cool.
I cringe. The Healers are not being rough, or unkind, and they do not act unnecessarily... But... for how much longer must this continue?
One Peredhel spots me for the first time, and his brother immediately after him. They cease crying for one crucial second as they examine each other's faces, and the next thing to happen I cannot believe.
They each stretch both arms fully extended, reaching towards me, and call out as one, "Maglor! Maglor!"
I know not exactly what their plea did to me, but the next thing I know I hold them both in my arms, and they are busily burying their faces in the folds of my tunic, still crying, but now in relief. I turn to take them to their room, no, to my room, and the next sight which meets me I also cannot believe.
One of the Healers is crumpled against the farthest wall, a nurse on either side of him. He looks mostly stunned, possibly mildly injured as well. All the others present are huddled together well away from me, with mixed expressions of fear and panic.
What happened?
From the looks on the Healers' faces, I would wager even they do not know. I vaguely recall pushing someone out of my way... could that have been the dazed one there? I cannot now be sure.
Well, time is wasting. Before I am out of the room, I lock eyes with one servant who has always been particularly quick to appease my errands. "Bring fruit, bread and milk to my room right away." I continue to leave without waiting for an answer, but pause just beyond the door. "And... something sweet for the children as well," I add, thinking of a special treat for Earendil's sons, something with which to coax them into eating more. I know the servant heard my demands, and since I have no reason to assume he will not do as I say, I continue on my way.
This time I do not care if any passing-by elf witnesses me carrying two naked and soaking wet Peredhil back to my chamber. I care not at all.
All the while, the children cling to me gladly. They are indeed bright, for they have apparently learned well in our time together that I will protect them in any case, against anyone.
Once in my room, I move to set the children down... Is it my imagination or are they hesitant to let go...? But they do, and I straighten, examining them both with deliberately nonjudgmental eyes, not meaning to make them uncomfortable.
The one usually more vocal of the two speaks first, nearly a whisper. "The last thing I remember was sitting at your desk, watching the candle burn..."
His brother looks at neither I nor his twin when he speaks for himself. "The last thing I remember was looking at the stars..."
I have no words of comfort for them. Looking at their frail bodies and sad gazes, I find myself wondering if even such an invigorating treatment as the one just given would work to revive them a second time. No, I remind myself; it must not come to that again. They both stare up at me after a moment, and I fear that they may somehow read my gloomy thoughts, so quickly I change my line of thinking.
"Well now, just look at the two of you." They do so, inquisitively. "Dripping wet and naked as the day you were born!" I gasp, "How indecent." They both blush pink in embarrassment -one even giggles!- and I smile, losing the teasing edge in my voice as I continue, "Here, let me fetch you some towels."
I go to a linen closet adjoined to my bedroom to do so, also thinking to take two undershirts of mine to lend the children for wear. When I return, a table is already set with the foodstuffs I requested. The servant who delivered the meal is waiting patiently by the door.
When he sees me he bows deeply and speaks with mild worry, "Is there anything else you require, Lord Maglor?"
I look around. The twins are no where to be seen, and I suspect long gone by now. I sigh and wave the servant away in dismissal. "No, thank you. On your way."
He nods and makes haste of his departure. I sigh again and fall into one of the chairs at my table, feeling like all the world is slipping away from me. It could still fall into place, even now... it could still work, if only... But no. No. It is over.
Suddenly a moving shadow catches my eye. In surprise I instinctively reach for my still-absent sword-- but then nearly fall out of my seat in shock. The shadow is the twins, crawling out from underneath my bed. I had thought them fled again! They gather themselves up casually as can be and come right over to me.
I scramble to my knees, clumsily unfolding the linen in my hands, and dry them off. Then I drop a shirt over each of their heads, realizing belatedly that I need to help them find the armholes. When we finally have everything sorted out, so oversized are the shirts that the sleeves nearly touch the floor, and those I must roll back and tie.
Without even thinking I put each child in a chair opposite me, then pour them milk and serve them cakes and cherries. It seems completely natural when I seat myself again that we three begin eating together. Only after we finish do I realize that it is the first meal we have shared in accord and peace, even during all this time.
After several minutes of me simply staring at them lost in thought, and they silently questioning my odd conduct with curious eyes, I bring myself to stand.
"Well, time for your lessons, I think. What is it first today, riding again?" I dearly wonder why they look at me so.
"It is not yet morning," the normally quieter one, who seems no longer so quiet, says.
His brother points helpfully to an open window, displaying the starry night sky, and I do not blame him for treating me like an imbecile. "So it is... not," I say stupidly.
The twins exchange humored glances, then yawn at the same time. I feel my muscles tense, fearful of what they might say next.
"May we please go to sleep?" the one who was previously the most verbal of the pair says. Wait, have I just gotten them confused again?
"Well..." I stammer, struck dumb by the hopeful, pleading, sleepy gaze of Earendil's sons. What can I do, refuse them rest? They must sleep as well as eat in order to be healthy... but they must not fall again into the same comatose slumber that took them mere hours ago! What a dilemma... what to do? Think, Maglor, think! They have eaten now, so that is a positive difference, and their mood seems fairly blithe, which is good, plus I will not leave them alone. Perhaps all of that is enough to assure they sleep in a normal, safe state.
"Very well." I smile. "Time for bed then."
I know not immediately how to react as they walk to me and raise their arms straight above-head. On a guess, I pick them up, and whether from pending exhaustion or some newfound affection, they melt into me, slumping on each of my arms and against my shoulders like little sacks of sand. I suspect the former possibility as the true cause for their behavior, but allow myself to believe the latter.
I carry them to my bed, plenty spacious enough for the three of us, and lay us down upon it. I, too, am quite tired suddenly. The last thing I see is that both children are fast asleep, their eyes lightly closed, and their sweet breath coming in gentle, deep pulses...
Then I force my mind to forget the terrible truth of what I must do in the morrow.
For tonight, I may still hold these two children, these little Peredhil whom I would joyfully have raised as my own, and pretend that they are mine.
***continued***