Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.
"You want me to what?" I asked him unkindly, completely incredulous.
"You must be jesting, Elrohir! I am a healer, not an executioner!" I paced the room like an angry cat, caged but being taunted and wanting to be released to sink my claws into my tormenter to get my revenge.
"Maeren," he said, his smile guileless, "you would not be forcing me to drink the herb; I would do that on my own, by myself. I merely ask for your aid in procuring it for me, in the amount I would need to make sure that I slept and never awoke. What is so terrible about my request?"
I looked at this Elf who was once my friend. He barely resembled Elrohir anymore. Oh yes, it still looked like him, except that he was paler and gaunter. But his eyes were haunted, and his mind was not allowing him to be the person I knew that he was deep inside.
We had been here in Minas Tirith for ten days now, and Elrohir had steadily withdrawn from everyone, even Arwen. He was still able bodied; he could do everything for himself—if he had a mind to. The trouble was, he rarely had a mind to do anything any more. This 'fading' the Elves did—this dying of grief—seemed to be like extremely severe depression, like one would find in Humans. He had ceased eating and sleeping and was becoming very weak. And now Elrohir had it in his mind that the pain of living was too great for his tortured mind to bear.
He wanted to die, and he wanted to die now. And I was to help him do it.
"You ask too much my friend," I told him honestly. "I love you, but I will not help you kill yourself. I will hold you and comfort you, but I will not kill you. Not for anything in this world would I do that, Elrohir."
"If that is the case, Maeren," he said sadly, tears building in his eyes for the hundredth time today, "then you truly do not love me. If you did, you would not allow me to be in such pain. This agony—I cannot describe it to you—is worse than death itself! Why will you not help me rid myself of this torment? Can you not sense the anguish in my soul?"
"If you truly wanted to rid yourself of this torment," I countered, "you would allow me or someone here to take you to the Gray Havens, Elrohir. I should have insisted that you be forced, but Aragorn and Arwen would not hear of it. You know not what is the best thing for yourself any more, and I fear it is growing too late. I wish there was something I could do for you besides weep and pray, but there is nothing. You will not even let me comfort you any more. I am sorry, Elrohir. You were always there for me, and now I am failing you. But I will not fail you by killing you. That I will not do."
I strode from the room—stomping was more what I was doing—but I still liked not admitting to doing such an uncivilized thing. I had in mind to find at least one of the royals. I was going to make them listen to me—and I prayed to the Valar that it was not too late to get Elrohir reunited with Elladan. We simply had to do something—now. This had gone on for far too long. If we waited, he was going to starve himself to death or die of dehydration—if he wasn't successful in killing himself by some other dire means.
I came upon a servant, whose name I did not know, and proceeded to inquire as to the whereabouts of the King and Queen. I half expected the dolt to tell me to mind my own business, but I suspect the daggers I was throwing at him with my eyes may have discouraged that foolish thought he had. He informed me that they were both 'indisposed', and he said it quite nasally; I almost prescribed a wash for his nostrils and sinuses. He seemed much too stuffy to me. However, he had not asked my opinion of his health, so I kept my restoratives to myself this time. He deserved not to feel better anyway, I decided. I walked on in my quest to find the sovereigns, leaving the stuffy one in my wake. I may as well find them on my own—I wasn't likely to get much help from the staff, as closed of mouth as they had been instructed to be.
The Citadel was of such cavernous proportions! It was like being swallowed by a dragon that had several heads, and likewise, just as many long necks. These hallways were endless and sometimes I tended to wander about for what seemed like hours, passing the same doorways, I was sure, more than once. I finally found myself in a place familiar—the kitchen! I sent a silent prayer to the Valar once more, for seeing me through one more trial on this endless of days.
I pushed open the double doors leading into the kitchen and looked all about me. I spied every other person I might wish to see—but neither the Queen nor the King were among the throng of people scurrying about while trying to get the evening meal prepared. At this point, I cared not. At least I had been delivered from the bowels of the scaly demon Citadel! Thank Eru for that!
I made a pretense of finding a bit of fruit for myself and was finally successful. I found one apple! You would think a surplus of everything would be had in a place of this size. There probably was a surplus to be had—I most likely did not know the hiding places the staff resorted to using; to make sure they had on hand the supplies they needed when the King or Queen called for something in particular. They would not be caught red-faced without something they needed—no fools these servants, indeed.
I gave up and went to my room. It was only perhaps an hour until evening meal. I would speak to them then. Elrohir never presented himself at mealtimes, so I would not be speaking out of turn. I could also find out if Arwen had learned anything by prowling through the ancient libraries in the lesser-used rooms of the Citadel. That had been her sole task since she had come to the conclusion that her brother was dying of grief. She thought her search would more than likely not bear fruit, but she had to do something. She felt as I did—she could not sit and wait for Elrohir to simply die. It was not in her nature.
That was why it was so hard for me to understand her decision to oppose me when I voted to overrule Elrohir's refusal to travel to the Gray Havens. He was clearly not in his right mind. Oh he seemed lucid; he knew who everyone was and where he was and that sort of thing. But he could not make his own decisions—he was not thinking clearly. But she would not hear of forcing her brother to do anything. She was remembering him as he always was. Not as how he was now—despondent, despairing and completely not caring about anything or anyone—especially not himself!
Leofa was spending his time with Aragorn. When Aragorn was not attending to matters of court, he was being a father—and enjoying every moment of it—when he wasn't worried about Elrohir. Leofa was enjoying the male attention as well. Men have a totally different approach to life about them than do women, and—as much as I hate to admit it—Leofa needed to be around that. Men are as different from women—and I mean not just physically—as day is from night. It would be wrong of me to keep Leofa cosseted at my side, even though it is my instinct to do so. As aggravating as the male animal is—and I know I would eventually include my precious baby in this bothersome group—it is their differences, exasperating or otherwise, that keep us entertained, truth be known.
I hated to torture Arwen with the news that Elrohir was becoming intent on ending his life, and not just waiting for it to fade away as most other Elves suffering this malady did, but she and Aragorn needed to know this latest twist in Elrohir's twisted mind. I did wait until the meal was over, and we were sitting in their personal sitting room, before I broached the subject.
I was nursing Leofa for the last time before they put him down for the night. Yes, Arwen and Aragorn had done just as I suspected they would and had asked that he sleep in their room for the duration of our stay in Minas Tirith. With all the strife going on in our lives, I could not bring myself to deny their request, so I agreed without protest. There was too much tension in Leofa's midst as it was, and I was loath to add more by refusing them this. He was well adjusted to them by the evening of our first day in the city, so there was no trouble with him accepting them by his bedtime. I was the one who could not accept that he was not at my bedside that night. It was only until our visit was over. Then he would be with me to raise.
Tonight, though, I had something else on my mind—Elrohir, and his preoccupation with things suicidal. I began without preamble.
"Elrohir asked me to furnish him with enough Belladonna that would put him to sleep so he would never wake up," I announced to them both.
They had been looking over an ancient scroll that Arwen had found in the archives she had been searching through for days. It really held not much new information, she had told me earlier, but they were combing it for anything that could be useful to our cause just the same. When I made my announcement, they both looked up as one, expressions of astonishment and disbelief on their faces.
"Are you sure you heard him right, Maeren?" Arwen asked me, looking as if she was not certain she trusted what I was saying.
"I may feel as old as the Misty Mountains right now," I insisted, "but I am not quite in my dotage yet. He asked me for Belladonna, and he made it quite plain that he intended to sleep forever after he ingested it. I am quite sure I heard him exactly right. He is no longer content to let nature take its course—he intends to help it along. He asked me directly to aid him in killing himself."
"And what did you tell him?" Aragorn asked benignly.
"What do you think I told him?" I snapped. "I told him 'no'! He accused me of not caring about him—of not loving him at all if I could stand to see him in such agony. I accused him of not trying to rid himself of the torment, since he was not willing to go to the Gray Havens. What I said made no difference to him. But I do think he bears watching. I fear he will try some other method, since I would not help him."
"I think you are making too much of this," Aragorn told me condescendingly. "Elrohir is too noble an Elf to harm himself in this way. He will not carry through any plan of this type."
"Would you stake his life on it Aragorn?" I asked him heatedly. "Has he asked you to help him 'sleep forever'? Have you heard his plaintive weeping as he told you that you care not for him if you will stand by and watch him in this agony he has immersed himself in?"
"How would we go about placing him under a watch, Maeren?" Arwen interrupted. She obviously did not care for this argument I had started with her husband, but was too much a lady to lower herself to my level and insist that I cease it. "He is mobile, he can come and go at will; what will stop him from evading whoever we give the task of guarding him?"
"I did not say it would be easy," I admitted, somewhat ashamed. "Have you any ideas? I checked on him before the evening meal, and he was fine. He was still angry with me, but he was alive and—somewhat well. I have thought about sedating him just enough to keep him asleep, but not enough to do him harm. That way we would have more control over him. We could bodily take him to the Gray Havens, and set him upon a ship bound West, and pray that we are not too late in doing so. I have no other ideas to offer. I wish that I did. This is tearing my heart to pieces."
"As it is ours, I can assure you," Aragorn expressed to me, with a look of profound sadness on his face.
The King's expression took me aback. I realized I was being hateful to him and for no good reason. What was it about Aragorn that set my teeth on edge? I always felt as if he talked down to me. Was that something I simply perceived wrongly, or was it something he was guilty of? I made a mental note to try and stand back from now on and truly listen to the King, try and discern exactly what and how he said things to me. When we first met, I liked him very much. Had he changed? Or had I? Or perhaps we both had changed, and we simply were not destined to get along any more.
"I am sorry Aragorn," I said quietly. "I meant not to snap at you. I am just so worried about Elrohir, and it seems as if you fight me at every turn whenever I suggest we do something for him. Why is that exactly?"
Aragorn got up from his seat beside his beautiful wife and walked toward the huge window that looked out on the city below. He stood there for a few moments as if lost in thought. I wondered if he would answer me and about that time, he did.
"I fight you because I cannot reconcile the Elf that sits despairing in that room upstairs, with the one I always knew as my brother," Aragorn said after he had turned back to face me. "The two Elves are so vastly different. And even though the evidence is staring me right in the face, I still cannot bring myself to see it. It hurts too much." Arwen was up and in Aragorn's arms before I even registered that she'd risen. She knew him so well.
I said nothing more. I had said quite enough already.
We all glanced up when the door to the sitting room opened suddenly. It was Elrohir, of all people. He came in a bit unsteadily on his feet. He hadn't eaten or slept in almost two weeks. How he was continuing to stay on his feet I would never know. I suppose it was because he was an Elf; their strength was legendary, after all.
I rose and gave Leofa to Arwen, and then went to Elrohir, lending him my shoulder, and placing my arm around his waist. I feared he would shake me off, after my refusal to help him with the Belladonna earlier, but he actually smiled at me and kissed my cheek before we began walking. I took him to the sofa I had been sitting on, and helped him to sit, and then sat myself.
Arwen gave Leofa to Aragorn. I wondered if the child was beginning to feel like the proverbial 'hot potato'? She sat on the other side of Elrohir and smiled at her brother—a smile that would have melted anyone's heart.
"Elrohir," she said sweetly, "it is wonderful to see you downstairs tonight. Are you feeling better?"
"I suppose I am, in a way, sister," Elrohir replied. He bent and kissed her cheek and gave her a small hug. Then he turned to me. "I am sorry for putting you in such a bad position earlier, Maeren. That was ill done of me, I admit. I have had some time to think it over, and while the concept of simply sleeping and never waking up still appeals, I promise you I will not act upon it, nor will I do anything of the kind to speed up this hateful process. I will, however, take you up on your offer of the help you were willing to give, if the offer still stands."
"You will allow us to take you to the Gray Havens?" I asked excitedly.
"No," he said sheepishly. "That is not exactly what I meant. I am too tired to travel. I have told you that so many times I cannot count them; do you not hear me when I speak to you?" He chuckled a small bit. I wondered at his change of attitude. He had not even cracked a smile in days. "No, I meant the offer you made when you said you would hold me and comfort me—that goes for all of you." He said this last statement to everyone in the room with him. He continued, again to all of us. "I need help. I feel bad all the time. I suppose I am sick." Arwen and Aragorn both looked bewildered, but happy. I was dumbfounded. The change in this Elf was wonderful—but baffling.
A knock at the door caught us all by surprise, and a servant to the royals swept open the doors and made an announcement:
"Your Highnesses, you have guests who would not be denied entrance. They threatened me with bodily harm should I stand in their way—"
The servant was swept aside, being jostled out of the way by two formidable looking Elf lords followed by another Elf who was practically holding up a fourth.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
May the Valar be praised!
I lowered my face into my hands and wept with relief. Elrohir was going to be fine now. Everything would be all right.
Elrond was here!
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Elrohir stood unsteadily, but the look of pure elation on his face was phenomenal to behold. Haldan—who was supporting much of Elladan's weight, it appeared, followed Elrond and Glorfindel. The first two Elves came striding into the room, and Haldan and Elladan followed, a bit slower. It seemed that Elladan was in somewhat the same condition as his twin. Elrond made straight for Elrohir and embraced him tightly, hugging his son as if he were a small child who had been lost—and in a way he had been.
Finally Elrond pushed back from the younger Elf and held him at arm's length.
"You are going to be all right now, son," he said amidst his tears. "Your Ada is here, and he has brought your brother back to you, where he belongs. Forgive me for taking him from you. I am sorry, Elrohir; I knew not it would do this to you both, or I would have never allowed your separation." The Lord of Imladris was well and truly weeping by now, as were we all. No one could keep their eyes dry amidst the emotions that were running so high in this room.
No one except Leofa, that is. He spied his Grandfather!
The baby squealed with delight and clapped his hands, which he had finally learned how to do, although the sound was not a loud one by any means. Everyone in the room stopped their tears to laugh at the child's antics, and Aragorn humored his son, and took him to be embraced by his beloved Grandfather.
By the time Elrond had his arms full of Leofa, and Leofa had his damp and slimy hands full of fine Elven hair, Elladan and Haldan had made their way to Elrohir's side. The twins stood facing each other for the briefest of moments, then fell into each other's embrace. They stood that way for several minutes, seeming to gather strength from one another; just standing there, each resting their head on the other's shoulder, intensely joyful to be in the other's company once again.
They spoke to each other quietly in Elvish, saying I know not what, but it was obvious that they would not be separated from each other for a good long while. That was how it should be anyway, as far as I was concerned. Finally, it looked as if Elrohir was tired of standing. He led his brother to the sofa to sit. They sat side by side, but did not relinquish their hold on each other's hands. They were as lifelines, gathering strength between them where their fingers entwined. I directed Elrond to sit beside Elladan on the sofa, and he thanked me with his eyes. I wondered if the Elf lord was wroth with me, since ultimately, I was responsible for the twins' separation, I suppose. I decided I would hear of it sooner or later. If Elrond was angry, I would rather hear of it later than sooner.
I excused myself and went to my room, after first giving my son a kiss goodnight. I could no longer hold my emotions inside, and I wanted not to air them in front of everyone. I readied myself for bed, donning a gown and letting my hair down. I crawled under the covers and extinguished the lamp, then lay on my side and let my tears flow.
I allowed myself to relax for the first time since I had reached this city. Eru, it had been ten days! Ten whole days of worry and angst over Elrohir's sickness. I had been so helpless in this, and that was a feeling I hated more than any other.
Helplessness. It terrified me to my very bones.
I know not how long I lay there weeping; I cried myself to sleep. I slept as one dead, no dreaming and no waking, until the pink of the dawn was staining my walls, and I heard a gentle knocking upon my door.
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