Chapter 6

As the first rays of the sun smote the great land, Lindil searched for Mithlach. He would not ask the dwarves he passed in search of her. They seldom appeared but when they did they eyed him curiously and gave him a wide berth. They had heard that the maiden had brought with her an elf from Imladris so they left him alone but did not approve of his presence.

A sudden fresh breeze caught Lindil's senses and he followed the pleasant air until he reached an opening in the stone walls from which a shelf jutted out looking down towards Greenwood. Mithlach stood near the edge and beside her was Melfalas. He had his helm upon his head and a shield upon his arm bearing the figure of a white swan.

"Yea indeed I see it now," said Mithlach, "It should not take me long to join you there."

"Then if all is clear I shall leave you now."

"Fare thee well."

"Fare thee well," replied Melfalas and walked back.

He saw Lindil and greeted him before hurrying to leave the mountains but Mithlach remained at the edge of the shelf with her cloak blowing in the air behind her. Lindil walked silently towards her but as he drew close she turned and was not surprised to see him. Her dark hair was confined at her neck yet the wind blew a few stray curls into her face as she spoke to him.

"I hope you had a good rest," she said.

"As good as an elf can have in these halls of stone," replied Lindil.

Mithlach turned back to her contemplation of the forest and Lindil stood beside her and followed her gaze. In a small clearing he saw a camp of men. Some were in tents while others were busy packing things onto horses. Suddenly from the mountain itself he saw a man making his way in the direction of the camp.

"So that is where your brother is?" said Lindil.

"Yes. Can you see them? I can only see the whites of the tents and nothing more."

"Assuredly I see them."

"Do you see my brother? He is tall though not as tall as the others, his eyes are the same as mine, more blue than grey."

"I do not see him. Many have helms that obscure their faces and I deem a few to be under cover of the tents."

"But he must be there. Melfalas said he was there."

"You do not sound as though you believe him."

"I do believe him to be telling the truth. Yet I do not feel that my brother is there. I cannot explain it to you. In my heart I cannot see him near."

She looked up at him and he saw the sorrow in her eyes.

"I do not know," she said shaking her head, "Perhaps after all these years my heart has trouble believing I shall truly see him again, my only kin in this world. I saw him but briefly a year ago, to be sure he was well and to assure him I too was well."

"Why so briefly? Why not stay in Dol Amroth then?"

"I cannot tell you. It causes me pain to bring forth those memories. Please do not speak of it. Come, we have tarried here too long and there is much I must do and many to see."

Lindil followed but was not satisfied. He would certainly hear her story before he parted from her later that day. For now she could keep her secret as long as it pleased her.

They went deep down to the very heart of the mountain; a strong heat met them halfway and increased gradually as they went on. But with it came the smell of smoke. An iron door was pushed open revealing the place of working dwarves, amid furnaces, busy twisting and hammering precious metals into wondrous and stunning shapes.

"Ohtarwen!"

They heard the dwarf call out amid the pounding and they went to meet him. Mithlach introduced him to Lindil as Vrór but Vrór was not interested in anything but Mithlach's sword that he insisted on inspecting.

"Vrór crafted my sword for me," explained Mithlach.

Vrór ran a finger down the blade over the dwarf runes he had himself carved into it.

"A great heat I needed to be able to carve these in so cleanly," he said without looking up, "But for Mithlach I would not have achieved it. A great power she holds over the flames as though they are slaves to her will. Ah what is this! Your sword is notched. Tis a mighty good thing you came down to see me. You do not take as good care of this sword as you ought."

The dwarf looked up at Mithlach reproachfully before carrying the sword tenderly away to sharpen it and restore it to its former splendour.

"What power do you hold over flames, Mithlach?" asked Lindil, "For I too feel as Vrór does."

"I have no power over anything but myself," she replied.

"Tell me," he began and encountered a sharp glance, "Tell me, why did your dear friend Melfalas leave with such speed this morning?"

A roguish spark appeared in her eye as she said gravely.

"I fear my company was too much for him."

"What did you do to him?" he asked, smiling.

"Why, nothing," she said innocently, "What on middle-earth could I possibly do. Me, a mere maiden."

"I see he has angered you."

"Not at all."

Lindil looked at her closely and felt that this time she was serious for sure. Melfalas had angered her that was also a surety but she did not seem angry any longer.

"Has he perhaps paid for his insolence?" he asked.

"How could a mere maiden know that? Could she match him in knowledge and lore? Surely she could not match him in swordplay, let alone exceed his skilfulness?"

"I deem that she could."

"Then you will be happy to know that she certainly could, and indeed (much to the poor man's dismay, disbelief and disapproval) did."

"I pity him."

"No more than I. I cannot deny that he did fight very well and had he not made the mistake of underestimating his opponent, he would have not been defeated so quickly and, might I add, easily. Now where has that Vrór got to?"

She soon spotted him coming towards her polishing the sword with a cloth. Taking him by the shoulder, Mithlach looked down at him and had to give him a shake to get his attention.

"I did not come to you merely for my ill-used sword's sake," she told him, "I have come to say farewell. I leave by nightfall to be with my own kin."

"Leave? But..." he looked down at the sword in his hands.

He seemed to feel a deep distress at the thought of losing it forever. Never again holding the dark beauty in his hands, gleaming and pure.

"Do not worry," said Mithlach, "You may keep the sword if you wish."

"Keep the sword? No! What foolish talk you let your lips utter. The sword is yours, made for you and partly by you in fact. I could never part you from it."

He handed it to her with shaking hands, gazing at the awesome black metal, smoother than the calmest sea and seemingly as liquid.

"Let me see the blade slice the air one last time," he said.

Mithlach smiled and deftly moved the dark blade through the air as if fighting off an invisible foe. It was true. Anyone could see that the sword was made for her, the right weight and length for her stature, perfectly balanced. A masterpiece to be proud of. Vrór dried his eyes and handed Mithlach a handful of arrows, which she quickly stowed away.

"You have your dagger?" asked Vrór.

"Yes."

"Good, good. Farewell then Ohtarwen."

The dwarf then went back to his work, so engrossed that he didn't even notice they were still there or perhaps did not care. Lindil was rather surprised but Mithlach just smiled and walked away.

They saw many dwarves that day; some showed a degree of sadness to see her go while others showed none at all. They decided to see Vim last of all, but as Sarin and his brothers would be with her, Lindil would wait for Mithlach elsewhere. He handed Mithlach the parchment upon which he had written the song for Vim and made his way out of the stone home.

Mithlach talked to her dwarf friends for a long time before she realised how late the hour was. She made them promise to see her in Dol Amroth but knew that Vim could not come. Mithlach would have to come to see her if she wished to see her again at all.

"And I shall come," Mithlach told Vim, "Do not fear I shall forget you."

"I should hope not. Especially not after I made you this," replied Vim handing her the blue gown, packed securely and carefully. Mithlach put it in her pack but first withdrew from the pack a gift for Vim.

"So that you always remember me," she said.

It was a jewel the size of a man's fist and the colour of Mithlach's eyes. Deep inside it a light seemingly flickered. Vim gasped as she took it in trembling hands.

"A gift fit for a queen!" said Merin.

"For a queen of friends," said Mithlach.

"Now don't fill her head with such ideas," said Sarin, "Queen indeed."

"And what for us?" asked Corin, "Do you hide more of such gifts in that bag of yours?"

"Impudent fool," scolded Sarin, "What a thing to ask. Have you no manners."

"I'm afraid he does not. And neither do I have any gifts for you," said Mithlach.

"That is fair," said Merin, "For we have nothing to give you either."

Mithlach laughed and finally and regretfully took her leave. Sarin trudged along beside her down the staircase to the great doors where Lindil was waiting for her.

"Merin is quite silly," said Sarin, "You know that."

"That I do."

"And Corin is a brash young fool."

"That also I know."

"But you are the biggest fool of them all."

"Indeed?" she said looking down at him.

"Indeed," he said, undaunted, and held up a small axe in front of her eyes. She looked at it from the mithril blade to the jewel encrusted handle.

"How could you believe we would let you leave empty handed?" said Sarin taking her hand and putting the axe into it, closing her fingers over the handle.

"I made that!" cried Corin from behind them.

"With my help, of course," said Sarin.

Mithlach had just begun to thank them when Merin came puffing along calling out to her to wait.

"I have something for you too," he said.

Into her other hand he placed a pair of leather sandals.

"For you cannot wear those heavy boots all of the time," he explained.

"Thank you all," said Mithlach, "Now I wish more than ever that I had something to give you."

"You took us to the Red Chamber," said Sarin, "And have many times helped us through perils, with the risk of your own life. These are small tokens of our gratitude and friendship. Now go, before that elf of yours comes to take us to task for delaying you."

With a final farewell Mithlach joined Lindil under the evening sky tucking the axe into her belt and holding her cloak about her to hide the gleam that would be all too easy to spot in the dark from afar.

"Forgive me for keeping you waiting," she said.

"I understand your delay and therefore forgive it. But come now, your brother awaits."

They strode swiftly and silently though Lindil had many questions that he needed her to answer. He glanced at her profile in the darkness and wished that he knew what she was thinking. Was she glad that her days in the wild were coming to an end or did she want to stay a ranger, protecting in secret the free peoples and doing whatever her heart desired? He knew not what her heart desired. Only that she wished to see her brother again.

"Mithlach," he said breaking the silence, "Will you not tell me now, why it is you left Dol Amroth and why you have not made a journey home till now?"

"I shall tell you as much as I can. I left because…because my own people turned against me. The details are not important. It became necessary for me to leave my home and my name behind with it. Many there believe me to be dead now. My brother was loth for me to depart but he knew it was not safe for me to stay. I was to travel to Bree and stay there. But the people of Bree are not friendly to outsiders so I decided to stay in the wild, take up the role of ranger and kill fell creatures wherever I found them. It suited me much better than my life at Bree.

"As for why I didn't return before now. My brother said he would send word when it was safe for me to come home and the last time I saw him… it was not altogether safe."

"Yet you had planned to go back before you heard of the messengers," Lindil stopped suddenly as he remembered, "You said that if the king had returned you would return home."

"Yes, for that would mean the dark lord had fallen."

"You bewilder me. I thought it was the enmity of your people that prevented your homecoming. How are the two linked?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Why?" asked Lindil, his impatience sparking anger, "Do you trust me so little?"

"No, dear friend," said Mithlach gently, "I fear I shall lose the little trust you have in me."

"If you would but tell me…"

"This is where we part, Lindil. Do not let there be trouble between us now. Have a safe journey to the grey havens and think no more of me or my secrets. Let them be."

"I cannot be satisfied by such an answer."

"You shall have to be. There is no more. Farewell."

Lindil drew his bow and swiftly strung an arrow on it. He aimed it at her heart. She shook her head but made no action to move or draw her sword.

"Now tell me, Mithlach."

"Why are you doing this? What does it matter to you, you who shall depart from these lands before long? You have just shown how much you trust me. It is now impossible for me to tell you aught. Leave now."

Lindil let his bow and arrow fall to the ground and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Forgive me," he said softly, "You know I would never have let that arrow fly loose. I see you truly are in earnest and shall trouble you with questions no more. I too wish to part with good feeling, yet how can I do so with so many unanswered questions in my mind? But, I shall leave now as you wish. Fare thee well, child. May you have happiness for all your days."

Mithlach clasped the hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Lindil. You have been the best of companions and shall be much missed. I hope Nimril forgives me for hindering your departure from these lands. Give her my good wishes for a blissful life."

"That I shall."

With that, Lindil picked up his bow and arrow and with one last smile, stepped into the west. Mithlach watched the bright form of the elf disappear into the shadows before turning her own face south to find the camp. The empty, cold darkness closed in about her as she made her solitary and steady way.