I am so sorry for not updating sooner! My muse went on vacation.
Please, whoever is reading this story: I desperately need reviews. My muse leaves when it does not receive enough feedback, positive or negative! Please! You know you want to!
Okay, enough rambling, and on with the story. Enjoy!
****************************************************
. . . but doubt gnawed his heart, thinking that perhaps Eilinel was not dead . . .
(Silmarillion, Of Beren and Luthien)
****************************************************
Beren awoke the next morning to find Gorlim missing. In fact, he had not even seen him since the battle the previous day. Surprising himself, Beren found that he was almost thankful that his friend was gone. Gorlim's actions at the battle had shaken Beren deeply. He shuddered to even imagine what had to have been going through Gorlim's mind at that point.
Because of this, Beren shrugged off his friend's disappearance. Gorlim was probably just seeking solitude somewhere to deal with his turmoil. Hopefully that solitude would be healing for him.
However, unlike his son, Barahir was deeply suspicious of Gorlim's absence. Even the other companions seemed rather subdued that morning. But whatever doubts may have crossed their minds, they did not speak them.
Morning faded into afternoon, and Barahir felt that he could not let this slip by. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, they heard a rustle from the forest, and Gorlim emerged from the trees, his steps making a crunching sound as he trudged through the carpet of leaves. His head drooped, eyes staring at his walking feet.
Barahir quickly leapt from his spot at the fire, and strode to Gorlim's side. "Where have you been?" He made no attempt to hide the suspicion in his voice.
For a moment, Gorlim appeared like a wolf trapped in a corner. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the look melted and the blank stare resumed. "Why should I tell you?" Gorlim muttered wearily, all emotion drained form his voice. "You should not delve too deeply into business that is not your own."
Anger flared in Barahir's eyes, but Gorlim simply ignored him, stepping to the side and heading for the tents. His pride telling him to get the last word in, Barahir yelled after him, "Gorlim, you are acting like a child!"
But Gorlim had already stepped into the tent, and was far beyond even caring.
***************************************************
Gorlim shifted restlessly in his bed. He could not sleep. Waiting for him beyond the confines of wakefulness, he knew, were the nightmares that haunted his sleep.
Shaking off the covers, he rose hesitantly, knowing he shouldn't leave. 'But then again, Barahir is a fool,' he reminded himself.
He knew where he desired to be. He knew what he desired to find.
***************************************************
Gorlim blinked away his weariness and forcing his heavy eyelids to remain open as he followed the light of the moon to the clearing where the remains of his house still stood. As the ruins came into sight, his feet slowed as tears came into his eyes.
It was still the same. The tattered curtains had long ago been blown away by the winds, and the sagging wooden beams that had once been walls had further rotted, but it was still the same.
It was the same because there was still no Eilinel.
Cautiously moving forward, he gently moved aside the broken door that had been thrown across the entrance. He listened intently as he stepped through, but the only sounds that reached his ears were his own breathing and the songs of the birds outside. He scowled, feeling that the cheerfulness of the birds' melodies was solely meant to mock him.
His sweeping gaze caught a glimpse of something moving in an adjacent room. Trying to stifle his rising hopes in fear of them once more being dashed, he immediately rushed in. The gleam in his eyes grew dull. Over on the wall on the far side of the room, was hung a ripped and stained quilt. The movement he had seen was only the billowing of the quilt as the breeze from the broken window lifted its corners.
Gorlim knelt before the quilt, and looked up at it through the gathering moisture in his eyes. Its damage did not hide the meticulously sewn stitches and though the colors were faded, the warmth and care of the one who had made it could still be felt.
At last, he felt he had to break the silence before it broke him. "Is it really so much to ask!?" he yelled, his fists clenching.
Silence greeted his outburst. Tears now streamed freely from his eyes. "All I wish is to find my Eilinel!" he screamed. "Why did SHE deserve to be taken? There is not one blemish of evil in her entire being. She is a gift from the Valar, sent to this world to grace it! Why her? Why!? What foul creature brought this upon her?" His voice cracked. "I don't even know where she is! She could be suffering, taken captive, or injured! For all I know my Eilinel might even be dead . . . NO!" Suddenly his voice rose to a pain-filled shriek. "No! She is not dead! She can't be! I'd know if she was! I would! I know I would! She's still alive! And I vow that we will be together again one day! All I want is my Eilinel back!"
His voice hoarse, he halted his flow of emotion, taking deep breaths. Then he added softly, "And I love her so much . . ."
***************************************************
"How dare you endanger the lives of your companions like that!" Barahir's face was contorted by anger, but Gorlim met his glare unflinchingly.
"I doubt one man being absent brought much danger."
Barahir looked for a moment like he was going to explode, and then shook his head. "Gorlim, you do not understand. My job here, my duty, is to protect Dorthonion, and keep us all alive. I can't have you leaving whenever you feel like it, running off to who knows where!"
Beren, awakened by all of the commotion, ducked his head out of the tent, puzzlement written on his face. He immediately saw the situation and hurried out, but if either man noticed him, they did not show it.
Gorlim narrowed his eyes, but Barahir did not let him get a single word in.
"Don't you care about your companions? How would you like it if your actions brought harm or even death to your friends!?"
Making himself known, Beren put a hand on Barahir's shoulder and pulled him back a little. "Father, of course he does. It's just that . . ."
"Just what, Beren?" Barahir turned to his son. "Don't stand up for Gorlim just now. He needs to answer for himself."
"I do, sir?" Gorlim asked, raising his eyebrows. "I don't believe I should have to answer anything."
If Beren had thought his father was angry before, he would have run at the look in his eyes after this.
"Oh you DON'T do you?" Barahir practically spat at Gorlim, all trace of patience completely spent. "Answer this Gorlim: Why do you think I am even considering allowing you to stay with us?"
For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Gorlim's face, but he still refused to answer.
Barahir sighed, releasing some of the rage that had gripped him, and now his expression was odd mixture of fury, weariness, and regret. "Gorlim, you know that it is unsafe for someone from our group to wander alone in Dorthonion. It is unsafe for them, and it is unsafe for the rest of us, because of the increased chance of someone discovering our refuge."
Both Gorlim and Beren gave their leader a confused look. They had heard this before; it was nothing new.
"The trouble is, Gorlim," Barahir continued, "You shouldn't be in our group anymore. You don't obey me, or our code. You endanger us by leaving and you do not tell us where you go." Now came the sting. "But it would be worse to let you leave. I can't let anyone who knows our location to depart, let alone one who cannot completely remain sane."
Beren was shocked that his father could even speak it, yet he knew that it was true. He glanced sideways at Gorlim, afraid of his reaction, Gorlim stood silent, as if he had not heard anything.
Just as the silence seemed to grow too long, Gorlim met Barahir's eyes, and then turned his back. Before Barahir could question him, he spun around and punched his leader in the face.
He sprinted away to the forest.
*******************************************
Thunder rumbled overhead, and rain mixed with tears and Gorlim ran, heedless of all save his grief and his fatigue. He had been running for hours, wanting nothing more than to get as far away as possible from the people he had once called friends.
He knew of only one other place to go.
He collapsed as he reached the edge of the woods, his face pressed into the mud. Finally, he raised his eyes to the house, but not 'his' house. It was not his. It was only his when he had shared it with the one he loved, but he no longer had any hope for that.
But as he raised his eyes to ruins, he saw a faint light emanating from the shattered glass of a window.
TBC
Please, whoever is reading this story: I desperately need reviews. My muse leaves when it does not receive enough feedback, positive or negative! Please! You know you want to!
Okay, enough rambling, and on with the story. Enjoy!
****************************************************
. . . but doubt gnawed his heart, thinking that perhaps Eilinel was not dead . . .
(Silmarillion, Of Beren and Luthien)
****************************************************
Beren awoke the next morning to find Gorlim missing. In fact, he had not even seen him since the battle the previous day. Surprising himself, Beren found that he was almost thankful that his friend was gone. Gorlim's actions at the battle had shaken Beren deeply. He shuddered to even imagine what had to have been going through Gorlim's mind at that point.
Because of this, Beren shrugged off his friend's disappearance. Gorlim was probably just seeking solitude somewhere to deal with his turmoil. Hopefully that solitude would be healing for him.
However, unlike his son, Barahir was deeply suspicious of Gorlim's absence. Even the other companions seemed rather subdued that morning. But whatever doubts may have crossed their minds, they did not speak them.
Morning faded into afternoon, and Barahir felt that he could not let this slip by. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, they heard a rustle from the forest, and Gorlim emerged from the trees, his steps making a crunching sound as he trudged through the carpet of leaves. His head drooped, eyes staring at his walking feet.
Barahir quickly leapt from his spot at the fire, and strode to Gorlim's side. "Where have you been?" He made no attempt to hide the suspicion in his voice.
For a moment, Gorlim appeared like a wolf trapped in a corner. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the look melted and the blank stare resumed. "Why should I tell you?" Gorlim muttered wearily, all emotion drained form his voice. "You should not delve too deeply into business that is not your own."
Anger flared in Barahir's eyes, but Gorlim simply ignored him, stepping to the side and heading for the tents. His pride telling him to get the last word in, Barahir yelled after him, "Gorlim, you are acting like a child!"
But Gorlim had already stepped into the tent, and was far beyond even caring.
***************************************************
Gorlim shifted restlessly in his bed. He could not sleep. Waiting for him beyond the confines of wakefulness, he knew, were the nightmares that haunted his sleep.
Shaking off the covers, he rose hesitantly, knowing he shouldn't leave. 'But then again, Barahir is a fool,' he reminded himself.
He knew where he desired to be. He knew what he desired to find.
***************************************************
Gorlim blinked away his weariness and forcing his heavy eyelids to remain open as he followed the light of the moon to the clearing where the remains of his house still stood. As the ruins came into sight, his feet slowed as tears came into his eyes.
It was still the same. The tattered curtains had long ago been blown away by the winds, and the sagging wooden beams that had once been walls had further rotted, but it was still the same.
It was the same because there was still no Eilinel.
Cautiously moving forward, he gently moved aside the broken door that had been thrown across the entrance. He listened intently as he stepped through, but the only sounds that reached his ears were his own breathing and the songs of the birds outside. He scowled, feeling that the cheerfulness of the birds' melodies was solely meant to mock him.
His sweeping gaze caught a glimpse of something moving in an adjacent room. Trying to stifle his rising hopes in fear of them once more being dashed, he immediately rushed in. The gleam in his eyes grew dull. Over on the wall on the far side of the room, was hung a ripped and stained quilt. The movement he had seen was only the billowing of the quilt as the breeze from the broken window lifted its corners.
Gorlim knelt before the quilt, and looked up at it through the gathering moisture in his eyes. Its damage did not hide the meticulously sewn stitches and though the colors were faded, the warmth and care of the one who had made it could still be felt.
At last, he felt he had to break the silence before it broke him. "Is it really so much to ask!?" he yelled, his fists clenching.
Silence greeted his outburst. Tears now streamed freely from his eyes. "All I wish is to find my Eilinel!" he screamed. "Why did SHE deserve to be taken? There is not one blemish of evil in her entire being. She is a gift from the Valar, sent to this world to grace it! Why her? Why!? What foul creature brought this upon her?" His voice cracked. "I don't even know where she is! She could be suffering, taken captive, or injured! For all I know my Eilinel might even be dead . . . NO!" Suddenly his voice rose to a pain-filled shriek. "No! She is not dead! She can't be! I'd know if she was! I would! I know I would! She's still alive! And I vow that we will be together again one day! All I want is my Eilinel back!"
His voice hoarse, he halted his flow of emotion, taking deep breaths. Then he added softly, "And I love her so much . . ."
***************************************************
"How dare you endanger the lives of your companions like that!" Barahir's face was contorted by anger, but Gorlim met his glare unflinchingly.
"I doubt one man being absent brought much danger."
Barahir looked for a moment like he was going to explode, and then shook his head. "Gorlim, you do not understand. My job here, my duty, is to protect Dorthonion, and keep us all alive. I can't have you leaving whenever you feel like it, running off to who knows where!"
Beren, awakened by all of the commotion, ducked his head out of the tent, puzzlement written on his face. He immediately saw the situation and hurried out, but if either man noticed him, they did not show it.
Gorlim narrowed his eyes, but Barahir did not let him get a single word in.
"Don't you care about your companions? How would you like it if your actions brought harm or even death to your friends!?"
Making himself known, Beren put a hand on Barahir's shoulder and pulled him back a little. "Father, of course he does. It's just that . . ."
"Just what, Beren?" Barahir turned to his son. "Don't stand up for Gorlim just now. He needs to answer for himself."
"I do, sir?" Gorlim asked, raising his eyebrows. "I don't believe I should have to answer anything."
If Beren had thought his father was angry before, he would have run at the look in his eyes after this.
"Oh you DON'T do you?" Barahir practically spat at Gorlim, all trace of patience completely spent. "Answer this Gorlim: Why do you think I am even considering allowing you to stay with us?"
For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Gorlim's face, but he still refused to answer.
Barahir sighed, releasing some of the rage that had gripped him, and now his expression was odd mixture of fury, weariness, and regret. "Gorlim, you know that it is unsafe for someone from our group to wander alone in Dorthonion. It is unsafe for them, and it is unsafe for the rest of us, because of the increased chance of someone discovering our refuge."
Both Gorlim and Beren gave their leader a confused look. They had heard this before; it was nothing new.
"The trouble is, Gorlim," Barahir continued, "You shouldn't be in our group anymore. You don't obey me, or our code. You endanger us by leaving and you do not tell us where you go." Now came the sting. "But it would be worse to let you leave. I can't let anyone who knows our location to depart, let alone one who cannot completely remain sane."
Beren was shocked that his father could even speak it, yet he knew that it was true. He glanced sideways at Gorlim, afraid of his reaction, Gorlim stood silent, as if he had not heard anything.
Just as the silence seemed to grow too long, Gorlim met Barahir's eyes, and then turned his back. Before Barahir could question him, he spun around and punched his leader in the face.
He sprinted away to the forest.
*******************************************
Thunder rumbled overhead, and rain mixed with tears and Gorlim ran, heedless of all save his grief and his fatigue. He had been running for hours, wanting nothing more than to get as far away as possible from the people he had once called friends.
He knew of only one other place to go.
He collapsed as he reached the edge of the woods, his face pressed into the mud. Finally, he raised his eyes to the house, but not 'his' house. It was not his. It was only his when he had shared it with the one he loved, but he no longer had any hope for that.
But as he raised his eyes to ruins, he saw a faint light emanating from the shattered glass of a window.
TBC
