Chapter 13 Forged and Broken
Mararion halted his mount and placed his spare hand on his yew bow.
"There is no need for that." replied the voice. "You shall not draw weapons under my guard, or you and your companions will be shot from your mounts."
Mararion tightened his grip around Eladlín, "Lad?" he questioned softly.
The boy nodded slowly, "I am fine."
Haldamir rode to the front of the company. "Fair words spoken from afar should be taken as threats, or so I was taught. Show yourself."
A single blonde elf strode out into the trail. He bowed to Haldamir with mock importance, "My name is Beriataur. How may I serve you?". Haldamir gritted his teeth angrily, but the elf shook his head. "Must I repeat myself? Do not move, or my archers will bury an arrow in your breast. State your business in Lindon or leave. I have no time to deal with foolishness."
"We have business with Lord Elrond, which was the original purpose of our journey. But two days ago we were ambushed by Wargs as we attempted to cross the Wild, and two of our number are sorely injured. We seek the skill of Mithlond's healers." replied Mararion, motioning to the fading Eladlín.
The gaze of the elf softened immediately. "Let me see the boy." Mararion handed Eladlín down and the elf looked over his wounds. "But he is a man!" he marveled. "You must have business with Lord Elrond, for only something of great importance would bring a company of men and elves together." he let out a low whistle, and ten elves on horseback strode out of the dense undergrowth. The elf lifted Eladlín back to Mararion, and mounted his own steed. "Come. We shall show you the way to healers." he started off at a brisk trot, and the others struggled to keep up. He glanced back concerned. "How long have you been traveling?" he asked.
"Too long." replied Haldamir, as he blinked and stifled a yawn.
"Can you continue for a few more miles?"
"If we set a slower pace." answered Mararion. "The injured horses cannot keep up, and a trot aggravates the wounds."
"Aye." replied the elf as he sent an envoy ahead to the healers. They continued in silence for the remainder of the journey. Neither Mararion nor Haldamir had the strength to speak, and Siriondil was in far too much pain. Eladlín sat suspended between a dream world and reality, for Mararion would not let him rest truly, but at the same time he felt disconnected from the world around him. As they turned a bend in the road, a magnificent city spread before them, carefully camouflaged under the protection of the forest. Each building wound its way around the trees, and care had been taken not to disturb the inner workings of the undergrowth. Siriondil inhaled a sharp breath. Though it was partly from pain, it also marked his amazement at the scene that lay spread out before him. Though Edhellond had been pretty, this was a true seaport. The bay lay spread out over the western coast, and vast mountains protected the northern and southern sides of the city. The sole passage into Mithlond lay on the western pass, where the sweet trees of Elvish hands mingled with the coarseness of the wild. Siriondil's eyes widened to take in all of the sights, and his pain was forgotten. Here was the place his soul had searched for all of his life. Elves had done what men could not They did not destroy nature, they found a way to coexist with it. Haldamir noticed the subtle change in his companion. "It is amazing, is it not?"
Siriondil could only nod in reply. Before long, they stopped before a large silvery building.
"Welcome to the home of the healers of Mithlond. There is a small stable in the rear that should house all of your horses. I will inform Lord Gil-galad of your arrival before I return to the forest. If any trouble arises, simply state that you are a companion of Beriataur."
"Thank you." replied Mararion.
"Think nothing of it. Times are changing in this land. Though my heart has resisted it, I now understand that it is beyond my power to control. I may only perform the tasks that are given to me to complete."
Though the others did not understand Beriataur's parting words, Mararion embraced them, for he alone could find the cryptic meaning in his farewell. As the elf turned to face his company, several healers poured forth from the building in front of them. They helped Eladlín and Siriondil dismount before leading the horses away to the stables. Haldamir and Mararion were left behind in the street. As the hustle slowly faded away, the two looked at each other and laughed gaily, as they had not done in many days. "After you, brother." chuckled Mararion. They entered the home of the healers together, their hearts free of worry. Both found empty beds and faded away into a long, deep slumber.
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Siriondil laughed gaily. Though Eladlín's arm was bound up in a complicated sling, he had still managed to outrun the healer in a vain attempt to avoid his evening bandage change. "I would not laugh, if I were you." muttered another elf as he undid Siriondil's own bandaging.
Siriondil groaned, "Must we?"
"Aye, but they shall only come off tonight."
"Thank Eru for that."
Meanwhile, Eladlín fought the healer bravely. "I. Do. Not. Need. Another. Sling." he finished, jumping away onto the bed.
The elf shook his head. "My dear lad, do you not understand that this is necessary?"
"Why?" asked Eladlín as he leapt out of the elf's reach yet again.
"You are to visit Lord Gil-galad tomorrow, and I have been given the arduous task of preparing you. If your cast is set properly tonight, you will have no need of one tomorrow."
Eladlín hesitated for but a moment before surrendering himself. Mararion watched him from another room, glad that his vivacity had finally returned. Though the recovery had been long and troubled, the boy had strength in his veins. Mararion turned back around to watch Haldamir try to soothe Siriondil, who was cursing repeatedly as the healer jarred his shoulder. He chuckled softly under his breath. At long last Haldamir returned to his companion. "He grows worse every time. I believe the poor healer has only worsened Siriondil's condition."
"I would drink to that."
"If only they had ale here….."
"Quiet. Tomorrow we shall meet with Lord Gil-galad, and then our lives will change."
Haldamir's peaceful face creased with lines of worry. Mararion's words filled him with naught but uncertainty. What if the fabled elf-lord was not the person they had all imagined?
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The next morning came slowly, but come it did. It had been a restless night for all of the companions. Siriondil stirred frequently as he tried to comfort his painful shoulder, and Eladlín felt the tenseness in the elves and could not sleep. Though he did not understand what was to partake in the morn, he knew that Mararion was nervous and that alone was enough to unsettle him. Haldamir took leave of the others to watch the sunrise from the roof of the building. He had never quite recovered from shock of Ainalindë, and it showed in his growing distance from the others. He had tried in vain to make peace with himself over the events that had occurred on that fateful day, but only seclusion gave him comfort. There he could distance himself from the living world and return to the fantasies that he had contrived back in his mountainside abode. There, Niphredil strode alongside him, but he was in the land of the Valar and the world was cheerful once more. The golden rays of the sun licked over the eastern mountains, shaking Haldamir out of his gentle reverie. He took a few minutes to clear his head before returning to the others. It was time.
"Why must I wear this?" complained Eladlín loudly. He was forced into a clean, white tunic, and a pair of uncomfortable new brown breeches. "What about my old clothes?"
"They are not appropriate for court, my lad." replied Mararion as he ran a comb through the boy's ragged hair.
"OUCH!" Eladlín jerked his head away with a roar. "Enough!"
"Stop your complaining, or I shall have your bandages changed again. Would you prefer that?" asked Siriondil.
Eladlín hesitated for a moment, considering the idea thoughtfully. At least he could outrun the healer. However, in that moment, Mararion grabbed him and ran the comb through the last mat. "Finished." he grumbled as he turned to his own needs.
~~~~~~~~~~~
At long last the four companions were ready to depart. They waited anxiously near the door for a messenger to summon them to court. But as Haldamir watched out the window, it was not a messenger that he saw approaching them. It was Radagast. The old wizard climbed the stairs carefully, wincing slightly as he raised a wizened hand to greet them. The companions stood too stunned to reply, and Radagast laughed slowly. "I see that I still know how to make an entrance." Mararion made to speak, but Radagast silenced him. "I know what you want of me. When the other elves realized who I was, they rushed me back to their own village to care for my wounds. After a few days, I traveled back here to speak with others of my kind. Though I have yet to met Lord Gil-galad, I know that he awaits us, and Saruman the White has sent me here to summon you to court."
"What power has sent Saruman forth from Isengard?" asked Mararion as he began to understand the graveness of the situation. Though Beriataur the elf had revealed little, Mararion understood that something evil was taking hold in Middle Earth. But if Saruman had left his sanctuary, things were grave indeed.
Radagast's expression fell slightly. "You will understand when we arrive in court. Come, we have a fair distance to travel this morn." He lead Mararion ahead of the others and fell into a deep conversation with him. Haldamir understood that the two needed their privacy, and he held Siriondil and Eladlín back with him. After a lengthy walk, the company halted before a grand stone building. Though not large in stature, the magnificence and detail of the carvings around the front of the structure demanded importance. The wooden doors had been elegantly created from the wood of a large beech tree. Radagast let out a slow breath and pushed the doors open.
"Welcome to the court of Lord Gil-galad!" called a pompous voice. "Our Lord has summoned you here today, for he wishes to hear of your journey and your purpose!"
"That is enough, Nurnon." replied a majestic elf seated before them. "You may leave."
"As you wish, my Lord." The young elf bowed deeply and disappeared from the hall, leaving it empty save for Gil-galad and the companions. They stood together in a small group, for all were unsure of how to proceed.
"Come forward." commanded Gil-galad. They bustled together, each too flustered to speak, and strode before him. As Eladlín approached, he watched the elf carefully. His brown hair cascaded down over his muscular shoulders. His gentle, blue eyes were searching and alert as he tried to read the people before him. Though he appeared young to most, Eladlín could see the fine lines of worry that creased his face. Like Lord Elros, this elf clearly suffered from the heavy duties and cares that came with ruling a kingdom. His hands clenched the throne roughly, for they were not the hands of a King. He had once fought in the fields with his men, and his arms bore the scars of his adventures. His tunic stopped near his elbows, and Eladlín could see the fine white lines that came with sword work. Suddenly, they were upon him, and Mararion halted the group.
Gil-galad settled slightly, but then he jumped forth from his perch. His inspection of the group had glanced over the boy. He walked forward to them without a word and stopped before Eladlín. He grasped both of his arms, searching deep into his eyes. He looked up slowly at the group around them, without letting go of Eladlín. "Who are you?" he asked slowly. "Who are you?"
Though Siriondil had been able to restrain himself, the foreigner holding Eladlín was far too much for him to bear. "Leave him alone!" he cried, charging at Gil-galad. With one hand still holding onto the boy, Gil-galad calmly deflected the man and pulled a small dagger from the boot. He pulled Eladlín to him and placed the blade on his throat as he whispered, "I mean you no harm, lad. Do not struggle." Eladlín heeded his command as Siriondil, ready for another rush, stopped short, his face draining in an instant.
"I will ask you one more time. Who are you?" said Gil-galad.
Siriondil returned the elf's level stare. "I will speak to none but Lord Elrond about the boy."
"Very well." replied Gil-galad as the others stared in awe at Siriondil's audacity. He let out a low, quavering whistle. A voice answered the sweet note. "Coming!" Soft footfalls padded down the stairs to the hall, and another elf appeared around the corner. He began to walk into the throne room, but stopped when he saw the position of Lord Gil-galad. He then looked down at his captive, and his breath stopped. Frightened eyes, glanced back up at Gil-galad, who nodded to the man across the room. "Introduce yourself." he said calmly.
"I, I am Elrond, son of Eärendil." he said nervously, he glance shifting from the boy to the man.
Siriondil relaxed immediately. The relation between the boy and the elf was unmistakable. "I am Siriondil, master mariner. I hail from Nú menor, and I present to you Eladlín, son of Lord Elros."
The breath hissed out of Elrond's mouth. He shut his eyes, hiding the tears that welled up behind them. Before the words had even come from Siriondil's mouth, he had known. He had the fighting spirit of his brother inside the eyes that mirrored his own. Slowly, his eyes opened and concentrated directly on the boy, who was promptly released from Gil-galad's hold. Elrond walked up to the lad, who was more than a little bewildered, and embraced him fiercely. After a moment, Elrond rose and looked towards Gil-galad. The Lord nodded his head once and Elrond fled the room, his barely contained emotions pleading to be released. Gil-galad returned to his perch at the end of the hall and sank wearily. He beckoned Eladlín to him, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The Lord of the Hall smiled as deeply as he could, though the faces of elves were not suited to such displays of emotion. But as stoic as his face appeared, the happiness of Gil-galad was given away by his eyes. They were filled with tears of joy.
Eladlín did not understand what was happening to him. He tried to return to Siriondil, who retreated behind Mararion. "Siriondil!" he cried, struggling to get away from Gil-galad. The hold on him was released, and he fled to the protection of his companion. But he found that the mariner would not look him in the eye. He did not respond to Eladlín's cries, but rather repeated, "My task is completed." over and over. Haldamir placed a soft hand on his shoulder.
Mararion held Eladlín back. "Leave him be, lad."
Though his heart ached for the approval of Siriondil, Eladlín consented and turned to face Gil-galad.
"What is happening, Mararion?" asked Eladlín. Mararion did not reply, but rather tightened his grip on Eladlín's shoulders.
"I think" began Gil-galad, recovering himself quickly, "That it is time I settled you into your rooms. You must be weary from your journey." Though both sides knew this was not true, it remained the sole way to end the awkward silence that had fallen over the throne room.
"Yes." replied Mararion quickly. Nurnon was called, and the company was shown to their rooms. Afterwards, Nurnon returned to Gil-galad's side.
"Tell Saruman that I will meet with him tomorrow, Nurnon. I do not wish to be disturbed unless it is of grave importance."
"As you wish, my lord." Nurnon left Gil-galad to his own emotions, and the King left his hall, desperate for the solace of nature. As he reached the shoreline it was high tide. The large waves broke noisily over the beach. Gil-galad looked out over the open ocean, as he had so many times, and wept.
This seemed to be a good place to end. I have delayed for far too long, and so I feel compelled to update. Though I'd like to end without an a/n and leave you with that vision, I have a few housekeeping notes to share.
Beriataur~ literally translates as "protect wood", and meaning protector of the woods
Again, in my stupidity, I have re-written history by introducing the wizards far too early. It is now around the 1550-ish in the first age, but the wizards did not come to Middle Earth until the end of the first millennium of the third age. However, I am not going to rewrite the last few chapters to fix this error, I am just going to live with it. Sorry about that. Also, the next chapter will give more of an insight into Eladlín and Elrond, I know that this chapter kinda sucked in that regard.