Chapter 8 The Chill of the Mountains
Morning came slowly as the sun inched over the horizon. Mararion roused the others to give them the bad news. Caranaur could travel, but his leg would not bear extra weight.
"What will happen to us?" asked Siriondil.
"Midheiliant is the stronger horse, so he will be able to take Eladlín in addition to myself. But we must travel at the pace Caranaur sets."
"What shall we do when we enter the mountains?" said Eladlín.
"I have friends near the foot of the first peak. They will care for Caranaur and lend us a mountain pony for the pass. When he is ready, he will return to us."
With these words Mararion lifted Eladlín onto the great stallion and leaped up behind him. Siriondil struggled yet again, but Tossgalenas had great patience. When he had finally settled himself the small company set out at a walk. Caranaur held his head high, for he was too proud to wallow in his pain. As they left the great plains behind them, a lone howl rose over the air. Eladlín shuddered. "What was that?" he asked.
"A Warg of the Mountains. I do not understand why it is so far south. 'Tis more than unusual." replied Mararion.
"Should we be worried?" questioned Siriondil.
"No, the howl came from the east and we are heading north. We shall not cross paths."
Suddenly Midheiliant shied violently and Mararion, who sat near the rear of the horse in order to give Eladlín more room, was thrown. He landed quickly and stood. Tossgalenas stumbled backwards and gave a low, nervous whinny. Mararion fitted an arrow to his bowstring and stepped forward cautiously.
"What is..." began Eladlín.
"Silence." Mararion interrupted curtly. He lifted his head to the air and took in a large breath. "Hide." he muttered. Siriondil and Eladlín struggled to find cover behind a small grove of trees. Mararion crouched down in the midst of a thorny bush as his eyes scanned the horizon for movement. A high laugh rose above the plain and an elf stepped out into the clearing. "You have no reason to hide from us, be you man or elf. Show yourself."
Mararion rose and smiled. "'Tis good to see you again, my old friend." He turned to the grove of maples. "Come forward, Eladlín and Siriondil. I know this elf, he will not harm us."
Meanwhile, the dark haired elf and his company had collected their belongings and strode over. Mararion embraced the elf and they stepped back to look at each other. "It has been many moons since our last meeting, Mararion."
"Too many moons, Morinw(."
Morinw( smiled, "Is that how you shall introduce me to your companions? Thelipen!"
Siriondil cleared his throat loudly. He quickly tired of language he did not understand. Mararion turned around to face him. "Siriondil and Eladlín, this is Haldamir Súrion, an old friend of mine. Haldamir, this is Siriondil and Eladlín. Both are men of Numenor."
Haldamir frowned. "I fear this will be a long tale. I shall lead you back to my house near the mountains, for it grows dark and there are strange creatures abroad." Mararion conversed quietly in elvish as he told Haldamir of Caranaur's plight. "Leave him with my companions." replied Haldamir, "They will care for him and bring him to my house. The child should not stay in these woods, not after nightfall."
Eladlín mounted Midheiliant and the company struck out for the looming mountains. They rode at a slow trot, which made conversing easy. "May I ask you a question?" stammered Eladlín.
Haldamir glanced down at the small boy. "Yes, you may. What do you desire of me?"
"Mararion called you Morinw( earlier, and you called him Thelipen. What does that mean?"
Haldamir looked at Mararion, and the two shared the laugh of a deep comradeship. "Morinw( is Dark-fairy, and Thelipen is Mean-one, in the old language; the word of our forefathers. I am of the Noldori race, as is Mararion. We are the remnants of a great people laid to waste. But such tales are not meant for this night." He rode ahead of the others and Eladlín glanced back at Mararion. "What did he mean by that?"
"Lord Elrond will tell you when we arrive in Ossiriand."
Eladlín shook his head gently. He had learned never to expect an answer from Mararion. An hour later Midheiliant slowed as they reached a small stone building with a thin curl of smoke rising from the chimney. As the elves cared for the horses, Siriondil walked over to Eladlín. "How are you?" he asked gently.
"Better." Eladlín replied. "Is this where we shall spend the night? 'Tis awfully small."
"And thou art awfully rude. You know better than to speak like that. Do not belittle the elf, he has given us naught but friendship." reprimanded Siriondil.
Eladlín frowned. There was something different about this elf. Haldamir did not have the same warmth as Mararion. He seemed so much more reserved around everyone. "Something is amiss..." he muttered to himself.
"And what is that, young one?" asked Mararion as he walked up from behind.
Eladlín spun around and silently cursed elvish hearing. "I do not know." he replied, though his gaze rested on Haldamir, who shifted uncomfortably. Mararion, sensing the awkwardness, quickly led them inside. They sat at a small wooden table that had seen many years, yet retained its elegant beauty. Haldamir flashed a grin as he laid out a large ham, potato soup, a small green salad and a jug of fresh milk. "That ought to be enough to settle the stomach of a dwarf!" he exclaimed.
"Apparently you have never seen Master Siriondil eat." replied Eladlín coyly. Haldamir looked down at the small boy, who smiled quietly, and laughed again. "Indeed."
Siriondil laid his head down in his hands. "Thank you Eladlín." The meal continued without incident as Siriondil and Mararion explained their situation. Eladlín stayed silent throughout the meal, as he did not have the courage to speak out again. When the hour grew late, Siriondil excused himself and led Eladlín to a small side room. "Here is where you will spend the night, little master."
"Are you leaving me?" asked Eladlín in a tiny voice.
Siriondil turned around slowly. "Why?"
"I am frightened; I do not want to be alone."
Siriondil smiled. "Worry not, I will return to you before the moon has waned. But first I must speak with Mararion and his friend. If anything is amiss I will be right outside the door. I will come when I hear your call."
Eladlín bit his lip. "Alright." he replied.
Siriondil leaned over to tuck him in. "Losto mae (Sleep well)." he said, remembering the elvish phrase Mararion had taught him.
"Night." He turned onto his side, but sleep did not come. He could hear mutterings from the kitchen, along with the occasional laugh from Haldamir. "Why do I resist him?" thought Eladlín, "Siriondil is right. He has done me no harm, and Mararion trusts him."
A voice stirred in his mind. "The darkness..."
"There IS no darkness. He is an elf of the light, I can see it in his eyes."
"Then why the sorrow?" replied the voice. "Why did he ride away from you?"
Eladlín remained silent. It made no sense to his young mind.
Meanwhile, Mararion finished the tale of Eladlín's journey. "That is why we hasten to bring him to Lord Elrond."
Haldamir stood to bring down a small bottle of ale from the cabinet. "'Tis a strange tale indeed. I know not what to make of these times...The air is changing, but for good or evil I can not tell."
"What of the orcs and Wargs?" asked Siriondil, "Mararion said it was unusual for them to stray so far south."
Haldamir finished pouring the ale into his glass. "It is more than unusual, it is unheard of. Never before has this happened. At least, not in my time. The orcs are looking for something, that much is certain. But what?"
Mararion shook his head grimly. "We may never know. Let us hope that it is not on the orders of Morgoth."
"Do not speak such words in my house!" yelled Haldamir. "It has caused me more grief than I can bear. It is gone, and can never return."
"But Sauron was not killed, Haldamir. You cannot escape it."
Haldamir rose and walked to the door, "We shall dwell no more on these thoughts tonight. Leave me to my sorrows, and speak not of them." He opened the door quietly and ran stumbling to a large rock before his grief overtook him and he wept openly upon it. Eladlín heard the noise and looked out his window. The dark brown hair cascaded over the elf as sobs shook his body. Siriondil opened the door and Eladlín fell back into bed. He walked over to the window and paused for a minute before he lay down upon his own bed. Within minutes sleep embraced him and Eladlín crept cautiously over to the windowsill. He climbed outside and landed with a small thump. Haldamir spun around, his bow fitted and aimed. Seeing the small boy he turned away yet again and looked to the dark sky. Haldamir's tear streaked face moved Eladlín deeply, for he knew it took great sorrow to pain an elf so badly. "What ails you, Haldamir?" he asked quietly.
For a moment silence lingered between the two as Haldamir found the words to respond. "Do you know what war is, Eladlín?"
"Of course. 'Tis a battle between two opposing sides, over land or another matter of pride."
Haldamir looked down at him. "No, Eladlín. It is much more than just a battle. It is death. Death..when your friend lies beside you, bleeding in your arms, when your father is slain and you must carry on, killing those who should be your comrades. That is war, Eladlín. I know, for I have seen far too many of them. Has your father taught you history?"
"Yes."
"Did he ever tell you how your people came to live on Numenor?"
"No. I asked him many times, but he would not answer."
"It is high time you learned. Dark times are coming to this world, I can feel it. Your people aided mine a long time ago, in Nirnareth Arnoediad, the battle of Unnumbered Tears. Your father was but a babe at the time, though I am sure the memories and tales haunt him to this day. It was through that battle and the ruin of Beleriand that Morgoth was defeated. But, in doing so, many were killed. 'Twas enough bodies to build a mountain, the Hill of Tears. My father and closest friend were lost, for they were among the members of my kin that were murdered in the onslaught. Mararion and myself are of but a handful of our people that remain. All was lost, for that is war Eladlín. Do you understand now?"
"Yes...but why has the darkness avoided Mararion?"
"He did not fight that day. He was a warrior only once, and has since decided to live his life in peace."
"It is a decision I would make again and again, given the chance." said Mararion as he walked out of the house.
"'Tis one I should have made." replied Haldamir.
"Do not dwell on hindsight. Many decisions could have been made differently in the past. Come Eladlín, it is high time you slept. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow." The boy left and Mararion continued on to Haldamir.
"I am fading, brother. I feel it in my bones. I will not last the year." said Haldamir quietly.
"Do not speak such nonsense. You will not depart for the halls, I shall see to that. We will leave for the west one day. Together." he added firmly. "The darkness creeps up on you, but it has not taken hold yet. Good years will shake it from your breast."
Haldamir sighed, "You always were the optimistic one. I am afraid I share none of your enthusiasm. I am frightened, Mararion, even the boy can see it."
"He is no normal boy. Eladlín is of half-elven. His actions and thoughts do not resemble those of his forefathers."
"Such ideas I cannot imagine. You must jest with me, Mararion."
"I assure you, I do nothing of the sort. 'Tis why his father has sent him to Lord Elrond. Come join us, I beg you. We shall meet the others in Lindon, and perhaps leave for the West. I cannot guide them alone, the path is more dangerous than I feared."
Haldamir looked towards the waning moon. "The world holds such peacefulness in the night."
Mararion sighed. Haldamir would give no straight answer. "Consider it Haldamir, it is my only request of you. I do not need to lose you as well."
Haldamir began the short walk to the stables. "Your sister was a good wife, Mararion. I will never forget what you have done for me."
Mararion watched him leave, knowing none could console him.
~~~~~~~~
"Are we packed then?" asked Eladlín.
"Aye, except for one last thing."
"And what is that? Have we added another pitiful being to our list of companions?" said Siriondil, sensing what was to come.
"Indeed we have."
Eladlín brightened. He understood the darkness now, and fully accepted it. There was no need to fear Haldamir. He would make a fine companion once he settled into their routine.
Haldamir walked into the house; his face masking whatever sorrow lingered in his heart. "The horses are ready. I have only to leave a note for my companions. When Caranaur is healed, they will return him to us. Until then, Niphredil will bear you. Her feet are sound, and she has made the crossing many times. Her name means Snowdrop; a flower of the mountains." he added, foreseeing Eladlín's question.
The soft white mare walked up to Eladlín and blew a slow breath into his face. He looked into her sweet brown eyes and saw naught but a heart of gold. She was a mountain pony. Niphredil had lived her days among the shrubbery until Haldamir took her in as one of his own. After that day she desired only his company; the old life had no hold on her. Eladlín swung a leg over her side and settled himself, marveling at the difference between Niphredil and Caranaur. She had a wider girth and he sat much closer to the ground.
Mararion watched them carefully. The boy took to the horse well, and she responded to his lightest touch. He mounted his own steed and set the pace as they rose on the first path. "Where are we?" asked Eladlín.
"In Blackroot Vale, the easiest pass through the White Mountains. All we need to do is follow the river."
By the end of the first day the air had chilled considerably. Siriondil removed the second cloak from his pack and fastened it around his neck. The soft wool warmed him. He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment. As Niphredil's hooves crunched on the snow, Siriondil was shaken out of his dreams of home. He watched Eladlín struggle by on his pony, shivering and hunched against the cold. Sighing gently Siriondil loosened the reins and caught up to him. "Here." he said, "Take my extra cloak."
Eladlín looked up at him gratefully. "Thank you." Siriondil leaned over and fastened it around his neck. Yet, even with the third cloak over his shoulders, the piercing wing stung right through him. Eladlín shivered quietly, for he was too proud to ask the elves for help. This was also Siriondil's downfall, and he kept to himself as the journey continued.
Mararion and Haldamir, meanwhile, were too engrossed in their own matters to notice the plight of the men. As elves, they did not feel the bitter windchill. As the sun fell slowly from the sky, Niphredil gave a worried whinny, and Mararion pulled up Midheiliant and turned around to face his companions. His gaze shifted onto them and his expression fell. "The cold." he remembered aloud.
"Hmm?" replied Haldamir, as he too swung his horse around. "Oh my." he finished slowly. Both men had reached the point where hypothermia gripped their bodies, making even shivering difficult.
Mararion wet a finger and put it up to the wind. "It is almost too strong for this pass. The cold it must be bitter." He leapt off of Midheiliant and ran to Eladlín, who appeared to be the worse of the two. "Start a fire, Haldamir. Quickly."
"But the trees..."
"Will understand. They will not last long without one." Mararion replied firmly. Haldamir unsheathed a small axe (which he carried to take care of dead wood in the paths) and said a silent prayer as he sliced into the trunk of a young maple. "I am sorry, my friend. Let your sap flow into the hearts of my companions."
Mararion grasped the boy tightly, noticing immediately that he had grown since the journey began. "Soon you will no longer be a child." he whispered into Eladlín's ear. Siriondil had dismounted from Tossgalenas and stumbled over to Mararion. "It is so cold..." he mumbled. Mararion muttered a few commands in elvish and Tossgalenas laid down in the snow. He helped Siriondil against her side where he snuggled close to her girth as he found the heat. A few yards away, Eladlín stirred. Mararion rushed to his side. "Quiet...you must rest. He embraced the boy again, his body straining to give Eladlín his warmth.
Meanwhile, Haldamir struck the first spark with his flint and the maple took to the flames with alarming speed. In seconds a blazing fire roared contentedly. He rushed over to help Mararion take Eladlín and Siriondil to the fireside. As the gravity of the situation lessened, both elves sat and watched the flames, reflecting on what would have happened if Niphredil had not whinnied. "But I still do not understand," said Haldamir slowly, "why the blaze took so quickly. Even by elvish hands such a blaze would normally take hours to create."
"Sometimes it is only chance. We have been very fortunate."
Haldamir sighed, "And what if our luck fails? What then? There are such strange times ahead of us. What will become of the world?"
"Only Iluvatar knows." replied Mararion, quoting the familiar elvish saying.
Ok, I decided to go back on my promise for this chapter. they are only halfway through the mountains, but eight, almost nine pages, is long enough, especially when I have kept you all waiting for so long. thanks so much for all the positive (and especially the critiquing) reviews. Keep 'em coming! Message for reviewers.I want to know what you think of Haldamir. good? bad? eh? What do you think will happen to him? And again, please tell what (if anything) I'm doing wrong! I promise to listen and make revisions! promise! ok, thanks again guys,
~SilverElf~
Morning came slowly as the sun inched over the horizon. Mararion roused the others to give them the bad news. Caranaur could travel, but his leg would not bear extra weight.
"What will happen to us?" asked Siriondil.
"Midheiliant is the stronger horse, so he will be able to take Eladlín in addition to myself. But we must travel at the pace Caranaur sets."
"What shall we do when we enter the mountains?" said Eladlín.
"I have friends near the foot of the first peak. They will care for Caranaur and lend us a mountain pony for the pass. When he is ready, he will return to us."
With these words Mararion lifted Eladlín onto the great stallion and leaped up behind him. Siriondil struggled yet again, but Tossgalenas had great patience. When he had finally settled himself the small company set out at a walk. Caranaur held his head high, for he was too proud to wallow in his pain. As they left the great plains behind them, a lone howl rose over the air. Eladlín shuddered. "What was that?" he asked.
"A Warg of the Mountains. I do not understand why it is so far south. 'Tis more than unusual." replied Mararion.
"Should we be worried?" questioned Siriondil.
"No, the howl came from the east and we are heading north. We shall not cross paths."
Suddenly Midheiliant shied violently and Mararion, who sat near the rear of the horse in order to give Eladlín more room, was thrown. He landed quickly and stood. Tossgalenas stumbled backwards and gave a low, nervous whinny. Mararion fitted an arrow to his bowstring and stepped forward cautiously.
"What is..." began Eladlín.
"Silence." Mararion interrupted curtly. He lifted his head to the air and took in a large breath. "Hide." he muttered. Siriondil and Eladlín struggled to find cover behind a small grove of trees. Mararion crouched down in the midst of a thorny bush as his eyes scanned the horizon for movement. A high laugh rose above the plain and an elf stepped out into the clearing. "You have no reason to hide from us, be you man or elf. Show yourself."
Mararion rose and smiled. "'Tis good to see you again, my old friend." He turned to the grove of maples. "Come forward, Eladlín and Siriondil. I know this elf, he will not harm us."
Meanwhile, the dark haired elf and his company had collected their belongings and strode over. Mararion embraced the elf and they stepped back to look at each other. "It has been many moons since our last meeting, Mararion."
"Too many moons, Morinw(."
Morinw( smiled, "Is that how you shall introduce me to your companions? Thelipen!"
Siriondil cleared his throat loudly. He quickly tired of language he did not understand. Mararion turned around to face him. "Siriondil and Eladlín, this is Haldamir Súrion, an old friend of mine. Haldamir, this is Siriondil and Eladlín. Both are men of Numenor."
Haldamir frowned. "I fear this will be a long tale. I shall lead you back to my house near the mountains, for it grows dark and there are strange creatures abroad." Mararion conversed quietly in elvish as he told Haldamir of Caranaur's plight. "Leave him with my companions." replied Haldamir, "They will care for him and bring him to my house. The child should not stay in these woods, not after nightfall."
Eladlín mounted Midheiliant and the company struck out for the looming mountains. They rode at a slow trot, which made conversing easy. "May I ask you a question?" stammered Eladlín.
Haldamir glanced down at the small boy. "Yes, you may. What do you desire of me?"
"Mararion called you Morinw( earlier, and you called him Thelipen. What does that mean?"
Haldamir looked at Mararion, and the two shared the laugh of a deep comradeship. "Morinw( is Dark-fairy, and Thelipen is Mean-one, in the old language; the word of our forefathers. I am of the Noldori race, as is Mararion. We are the remnants of a great people laid to waste. But such tales are not meant for this night." He rode ahead of the others and Eladlín glanced back at Mararion. "What did he mean by that?"
"Lord Elrond will tell you when we arrive in Ossiriand."
Eladlín shook his head gently. He had learned never to expect an answer from Mararion. An hour later Midheiliant slowed as they reached a small stone building with a thin curl of smoke rising from the chimney. As the elves cared for the horses, Siriondil walked over to Eladlín. "How are you?" he asked gently.
"Better." Eladlín replied. "Is this where we shall spend the night? 'Tis awfully small."
"And thou art awfully rude. You know better than to speak like that. Do not belittle the elf, he has given us naught but friendship." reprimanded Siriondil.
Eladlín frowned. There was something different about this elf. Haldamir did not have the same warmth as Mararion. He seemed so much more reserved around everyone. "Something is amiss..." he muttered to himself.
"And what is that, young one?" asked Mararion as he walked up from behind.
Eladlín spun around and silently cursed elvish hearing. "I do not know." he replied, though his gaze rested on Haldamir, who shifted uncomfortably. Mararion, sensing the awkwardness, quickly led them inside. They sat at a small wooden table that had seen many years, yet retained its elegant beauty. Haldamir flashed a grin as he laid out a large ham, potato soup, a small green salad and a jug of fresh milk. "That ought to be enough to settle the stomach of a dwarf!" he exclaimed.
"Apparently you have never seen Master Siriondil eat." replied Eladlín coyly. Haldamir looked down at the small boy, who smiled quietly, and laughed again. "Indeed."
Siriondil laid his head down in his hands. "Thank you Eladlín." The meal continued without incident as Siriondil and Mararion explained their situation. Eladlín stayed silent throughout the meal, as he did not have the courage to speak out again. When the hour grew late, Siriondil excused himself and led Eladlín to a small side room. "Here is where you will spend the night, little master."
"Are you leaving me?" asked Eladlín in a tiny voice.
Siriondil turned around slowly. "Why?"
"I am frightened; I do not want to be alone."
Siriondil smiled. "Worry not, I will return to you before the moon has waned. But first I must speak with Mararion and his friend. If anything is amiss I will be right outside the door. I will come when I hear your call."
Eladlín bit his lip. "Alright." he replied.
Siriondil leaned over to tuck him in. "Losto mae (Sleep well)." he said, remembering the elvish phrase Mararion had taught him.
"Night." He turned onto his side, but sleep did not come. He could hear mutterings from the kitchen, along with the occasional laugh from Haldamir. "Why do I resist him?" thought Eladlín, "Siriondil is right. He has done me no harm, and Mararion trusts him."
A voice stirred in his mind. "The darkness..."
"There IS no darkness. He is an elf of the light, I can see it in his eyes."
"Then why the sorrow?" replied the voice. "Why did he ride away from you?"
Eladlín remained silent. It made no sense to his young mind.
Meanwhile, Mararion finished the tale of Eladlín's journey. "That is why we hasten to bring him to Lord Elrond."
Haldamir stood to bring down a small bottle of ale from the cabinet. "'Tis a strange tale indeed. I know not what to make of these times...The air is changing, but for good or evil I can not tell."
"What of the orcs and Wargs?" asked Siriondil, "Mararion said it was unusual for them to stray so far south."
Haldamir finished pouring the ale into his glass. "It is more than unusual, it is unheard of. Never before has this happened. At least, not in my time. The orcs are looking for something, that much is certain. But what?"
Mararion shook his head grimly. "We may never know. Let us hope that it is not on the orders of Morgoth."
"Do not speak such words in my house!" yelled Haldamir. "It has caused me more grief than I can bear. It is gone, and can never return."
"But Sauron was not killed, Haldamir. You cannot escape it."
Haldamir rose and walked to the door, "We shall dwell no more on these thoughts tonight. Leave me to my sorrows, and speak not of them." He opened the door quietly and ran stumbling to a large rock before his grief overtook him and he wept openly upon it. Eladlín heard the noise and looked out his window. The dark brown hair cascaded over the elf as sobs shook his body. Siriondil opened the door and Eladlín fell back into bed. He walked over to the window and paused for a minute before he lay down upon his own bed. Within minutes sleep embraced him and Eladlín crept cautiously over to the windowsill. He climbed outside and landed with a small thump. Haldamir spun around, his bow fitted and aimed. Seeing the small boy he turned away yet again and looked to the dark sky. Haldamir's tear streaked face moved Eladlín deeply, for he knew it took great sorrow to pain an elf so badly. "What ails you, Haldamir?" he asked quietly.
For a moment silence lingered between the two as Haldamir found the words to respond. "Do you know what war is, Eladlín?"
"Of course. 'Tis a battle between two opposing sides, over land or another matter of pride."
Haldamir looked down at him. "No, Eladlín. It is much more than just a battle. It is death. Death..when your friend lies beside you, bleeding in your arms, when your father is slain and you must carry on, killing those who should be your comrades. That is war, Eladlín. I know, for I have seen far too many of them. Has your father taught you history?"
"Yes."
"Did he ever tell you how your people came to live on Numenor?"
"No. I asked him many times, but he would not answer."
"It is high time you learned. Dark times are coming to this world, I can feel it. Your people aided mine a long time ago, in Nirnareth Arnoediad, the battle of Unnumbered Tears. Your father was but a babe at the time, though I am sure the memories and tales haunt him to this day. It was through that battle and the ruin of Beleriand that Morgoth was defeated. But, in doing so, many were killed. 'Twas enough bodies to build a mountain, the Hill of Tears. My father and closest friend were lost, for they were among the members of my kin that were murdered in the onslaught. Mararion and myself are of but a handful of our people that remain. All was lost, for that is war Eladlín. Do you understand now?"
"Yes...but why has the darkness avoided Mararion?"
"He did not fight that day. He was a warrior only once, and has since decided to live his life in peace."
"It is a decision I would make again and again, given the chance." said Mararion as he walked out of the house.
"'Tis one I should have made." replied Haldamir.
"Do not dwell on hindsight. Many decisions could have been made differently in the past. Come Eladlín, it is high time you slept. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow." The boy left and Mararion continued on to Haldamir.
"I am fading, brother. I feel it in my bones. I will not last the year." said Haldamir quietly.
"Do not speak such nonsense. You will not depart for the halls, I shall see to that. We will leave for the west one day. Together." he added firmly. "The darkness creeps up on you, but it has not taken hold yet. Good years will shake it from your breast."
Haldamir sighed, "You always were the optimistic one. I am afraid I share none of your enthusiasm. I am frightened, Mararion, even the boy can see it."
"He is no normal boy. Eladlín is of half-elven. His actions and thoughts do not resemble those of his forefathers."
"Such ideas I cannot imagine. You must jest with me, Mararion."
"I assure you, I do nothing of the sort. 'Tis why his father has sent him to Lord Elrond. Come join us, I beg you. We shall meet the others in Lindon, and perhaps leave for the West. I cannot guide them alone, the path is more dangerous than I feared."
Haldamir looked towards the waning moon. "The world holds such peacefulness in the night."
Mararion sighed. Haldamir would give no straight answer. "Consider it Haldamir, it is my only request of you. I do not need to lose you as well."
Haldamir began the short walk to the stables. "Your sister was a good wife, Mararion. I will never forget what you have done for me."
Mararion watched him leave, knowing none could console him.
~~~~~~~~
"Are we packed then?" asked Eladlín.
"Aye, except for one last thing."
"And what is that? Have we added another pitiful being to our list of companions?" said Siriondil, sensing what was to come.
"Indeed we have."
Eladlín brightened. He understood the darkness now, and fully accepted it. There was no need to fear Haldamir. He would make a fine companion once he settled into their routine.
Haldamir walked into the house; his face masking whatever sorrow lingered in his heart. "The horses are ready. I have only to leave a note for my companions. When Caranaur is healed, they will return him to us. Until then, Niphredil will bear you. Her feet are sound, and she has made the crossing many times. Her name means Snowdrop; a flower of the mountains." he added, foreseeing Eladlín's question.
The soft white mare walked up to Eladlín and blew a slow breath into his face. He looked into her sweet brown eyes and saw naught but a heart of gold. She was a mountain pony. Niphredil had lived her days among the shrubbery until Haldamir took her in as one of his own. After that day she desired only his company; the old life had no hold on her. Eladlín swung a leg over her side and settled himself, marveling at the difference between Niphredil and Caranaur. She had a wider girth and he sat much closer to the ground.
Mararion watched them carefully. The boy took to the horse well, and she responded to his lightest touch. He mounted his own steed and set the pace as they rose on the first path. "Where are we?" asked Eladlín.
"In Blackroot Vale, the easiest pass through the White Mountains. All we need to do is follow the river."
By the end of the first day the air had chilled considerably. Siriondil removed the second cloak from his pack and fastened it around his neck. The soft wool warmed him. He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment. As Niphredil's hooves crunched on the snow, Siriondil was shaken out of his dreams of home. He watched Eladlín struggle by on his pony, shivering and hunched against the cold. Sighing gently Siriondil loosened the reins and caught up to him. "Here." he said, "Take my extra cloak."
Eladlín looked up at him gratefully. "Thank you." Siriondil leaned over and fastened it around his neck. Yet, even with the third cloak over his shoulders, the piercing wing stung right through him. Eladlín shivered quietly, for he was too proud to ask the elves for help. This was also Siriondil's downfall, and he kept to himself as the journey continued.
Mararion and Haldamir, meanwhile, were too engrossed in their own matters to notice the plight of the men. As elves, they did not feel the bitter windchill. As the sun fell slowly from the sky, Niphredil gave a worried whinny, and Mararion pulled up Midheiliant and turned around to face his companions. His gaze shifted onto them and his expression fell. "The cold." he remembered aloud.
"Hmm?" replied Haldamir, as he too swung his horse around. "Oh my." he finished slowly. Both men had reached the point where hypothermia gripped their bodies, making even shivering difficult.
Mararion wet a finger and put it up to the wind. "It is almost too strong for this pass. The cold it must be bitter." He leapt off of Midheiliant and ran to Eladlín, who appeared to be the worse of the two. "Start a fire, Haldamir. Quickly."
"But the trees..."
"Will understand. They will not last long without one." Mararion replied firmly. Haldamir unsheathed a small axe (which he carried to take care of dead wood in the paths) and said a silent prayer as he sliced into the trunk of a young maple. "I am sorry, my friend. Let your sap flow into the hearts of my companions."
Mararion grasped the boy tightly, noticing immediately that he had grown since the journey began. "Soon you will no longer be a child." he whispered into Eladlín's ear. Siriondil had dismounted from Tossgalenas and stumbled over to Mararion. "It is so cold..." he mumbled. Mararion muttered a few commands in elvish and Tossgalenas laid down in the snow. He helped Siriondil against her side where he snuggled close to her girth as he found the heat. A few yards away, Eladlín stirred. Mararion rushed to his side. "Quiet...you must rest. He embraced the boy again, his body straining to give Eladlín his warmth.
Meanwhile, Haldamir struck the first spark with his flint and the maple took to the flames with alarming speed. In seconds a blazing fire roared contentedly. He rushed over to help Mararion take Eladlín and Siriondil to the fireside. As the gravity of the situation lessened, both elves sat and watched the flames, reflecting on what would have happened if Niphredil had not whinnied. "But I still do not understand," said Haldamir slowly, "why the blaze took so quickly. Even by elvish hands such a blaze would normally take hours to create."
"Sometimes it is only chance. We have been very fortunate."
Haldamir sighed, "And what if our luck fails? What then? There are such strange times ahead of us. What will become of the world?"
"Only Iluvatar knows." replied Mararion, quoting the familiar elvish saying.
Ok, I decided to go back on my promise for this chapter. they are only halfway through the mountains, but eight, almost nine pages, is long enough, especially when I have kept you all waiting for so long. thanks so much for all the positive (and especially the critiquing) reviews. Keep 'em coming! Message for reviewers.I want to know what you think of Haldamir. good? bad? eh? What do you think will happen to him? And again, please tell what (if anything) I'm doing wrong! I promise to listen and make revisions! promise! ok, thanks again guys,
~SilverElf~