Chapter Fourteen: Bittersweet Symphony

After we all returned home, Cali slowly became more and more withdrawn, resigning herself to her life of confinement, as she called it. You must understand, however, that for anyone else, staying in Imladris would be no bad thing, but for her it was very much a jail sentence. All her life she had been able to go where she pleased and do what she wanted, but now she was tied down by her illness. Her only solace was in you. Your presence made her situation bearable.

In time she began to take up several trades, trying different things until she found something that she enjoyed. At first it was baking, since she valued every moment she had with you. After a while she began to take an interest in weaving, but that didn't last very long. The problem was it kept her sitting for long periods with a limited result. It took days for a finished product to appear- far too long for her taste. She finally settled on painting. She literally fell in love with the canvas. She told me that the only feeling better than creating a new painting was caring for you when you were young. It was like watching a child grow when she formed the picture, and it finally made her happy.

Later that summer Ganya returned. I told him of our little outing to Isengard and my meeting with Saruman. He didn't seem at all surprised at my reaction to him.

"I've heard…rumors," he said in almost a whisper. "There is talk that the White Wizard may not be all he appears but," he leaned in close to me, "you didn't hear it from me."

"Where did you hear it from?" I asked. He just smiled and went on his way to see Cali.

We went on various outings so that Cali wouldn't feel confined. Some were just for the day, others for a week or more. Some would be just the three of us, others were a whole party of elves. One of these in particular stick out in my mind.

We had camped just outside the forest on the western bank of the Bruinen and had a merry feast by the water. Many from Imladris had come and Tyssa and Hallath were visiting from Lorien, as well as Ganya who had stayed in Imladris since he had returned months before. Why had so many come? It was your thirty-third birthday.

You were presented with many wonderful gifts, including a new pony, Shani, from Elrond. Your mother saved her gift until last- a small bow of dark polished wood. I had of course known of the gift, but I didn't really approve. It was difficult for me to imagine you owning a weapon.

From what I'd learned from Drogo a Hobbit becomes an adult in their thirty-third year, but the same is not true of an elf. The others it seemed, respected your age and began to treat you as a mature adult but in my eyes you were still very much a child. You were elated at the new status of course and gratefully accepted the bow from your mother. You revelled in the attention and praise you received as you easily picked up horseback riding, and wore the gown that Arwen had made for you. It was one of the happiest moments of your life, but I felt unable to enjoy it with you. It meant that you were no longer considered a child, and that I would be required to treat you that way.

In my heart I was sorrowful that we would rush away your innocence and celebrate something that should not have been for another seventeen years. I wondered how long it would be before Cali hinted at me that you were now of age to be married. I looked down at the thin silver band I still wore on my finger and sighed in my dispair.

"Lindir?" I looked up and saw your eyes on me. I had been sitting alone as your party went on, lost in my own thoughts when I heard your voice. "Lindir? Why do you look so sad?" I looked at you and forced a smile on my face, but I did not see it reflected in yours. I sighed.

"I am sad, melda," I said, "I'm sad because you aren't a little girl anymore." You frowned for a moment and sat in thought, but then you hugged me.

"Don't worry, Lindir," you said, "I'll always be your little girl!"

A few days later most had returned to Imladris. A few stayed on, our group included, to enjoy the last weeks of Autumn. It was then that Cali decided to teach you how to shoot.

"Now hold it steady," she said. She was crouched beside you as you aimed at an apple high up in a tree. "Try and hit it right in the center…" Just as she said this you released your arrow. We all watched as it hit the branch below the target that still swayed gently in the breeze. You groaned in exasperation.

"It's too hard! I can't do it," you cried.

"That's closer than last time," Tyssa commented with a warm smile. You looked over to her with a mixture of a smile and a frown, as if you couldn't decide which you wanted.

"That's okay, mela, you can try again," Cali said gently. "This is a skill that takes a long time to learn." You gave it several more tries, and each time missed the apple entirely. The last arrow just grazed the edge of the fruit and you threw down your bow in frustration.

"I can't!" you cried.

"Yes you can," said Cali, "You almost hit it that time!" She tried to hug you but you avoided the embrace and walked off alone. Cali watched you go, with great sadness on her face. Tyssa went after you and so Cali and I were alone.

"I just wanted her to try-" she said numbly. I came close and hugged her.

"You want her to be who you are," I said diplomatically. "Mélanyë is not a fighter, Cali. If she doesn't want to learn to use weapons we shouldn't force her." She let me go and nodded, picking up the bow from the grass.

"You're right, of course," she said. "I guess I just…I just want her to have what I had, but she's too much like her father."

"That's not such a bad thing, is it?" I said. She looked up at me and smiled.

"No it's not. She's a Hobbit. I should let her be a Hobbit."

We journeyed back to Imladris later that week, as the frost had begun to appear earlier than usual. Cali mounted your bow on a plaque in your room for you so you could look at it and remember your party by the lake. Everyone went back to their tasks as usual and the sky darkened as the air grew cooler. For a reason I can't explain, a slow nagging feeling of dread began in my stomach as I watched the first flakes of snow fall from the chill sky.