Title: A Rose Not Yet Withered
Pairing: None
Rating: PG13
Genre: Angst / Mystery
WARNING: Violence
Beta: None
Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Celeborn, Galadriel, OCs
Disclaimer: I own no-one from The Lord Of The Rings. All the characters and place names displayed belong to JRR Tolkien except Daealia and Glorendil who are from my own imagination and are the only ones I lay claim to. I do not intend to, nor am I making any financial gain from the writing of this story.
Summary: When news of a massacre reaches Lorien, time begins to run against the Galadhrim. Soon, even their trust for their own kin, is lost in a tangled web of lies, deceit and murder….
Spoilers: None
Chapter 10
Whiter than Snow
The morning sun had barely risen and yet there was already slight movement in the trees. Along a narrow path came a company of three elves, each carrying a small shovel. At the back, two brothers named Tadrien and Celéndel were talking in hushed voices.
"Is Haldir not coming?" asked Celéndel, the eldest
"Nay. It would be too traumatic for him if we did find Daealia's body, especially if it was not fit to look at" replied Tadrien
"What do you mean?"
"Well, according to Orophin, she must have been underground for a week or more. How could a body stay intact for that long, even if she was elven?"
"Well, we'll see"
The company continued their march through the forest until they came to a small stream, flowing down from the lush slopes from whence the company had come. Its dim waters caressed the pebbles as they flowed and from the depths of the waters the appeared to come a soft and gentle singing. It was as though the very waters themselves were alive with the music and songs of the earth and they sang for the joys of it.
"This is a very tragic day for Nimrodel and indeed all of Lorien" said another elf. He stood by the stream, his head bowed in grief.
"Why do you grieve so, Belélith?" questioned Celéndel.
"I am grieving for the near destruction of Nimrodel. Here we stand, armed with shovels, ready to destroy the home that she has dwelt in."
"But see here, Belélith" replied Celéndel "If she was buried a week ago or less then there should be some evidence of her burial." He pointed his hand at the banks of the Nimrodel "Look, there is none. Therefore she must have been buried by an enchantment or not buried at all."
"How do you propose to discover whether or not she lies here, Celéndel?" asked Belélith
"Lord Celeborn gave me this for such a purpose" replied Celéndel. From his pocket on his tunic he produced a small phial. Its contents were of a murky green and were swirling round the glass continuously.
"What is that?" asked his brother, Tadrien.
"It will reveal to us where Daealia lies, if indeed she does sleep here. If she is hidden by an enchantment, then tools we possess have no power to wield the secrets of the earth. Where she lies will be determined by this." He gestured at the phial and the three others watched and waited. Celéndel pulled the stopper out of the phial with a pop, and poured the contents onto the ground.
For a few minutes nothing could be seen to be happening. The emerald liquid glistened on the grass like freshly fallen dew and showed no signs of magical powers whatsoever. Suddenly the grass stopped glistening. Belélith and Tadrien gasped in surprise and wonder. Celéndel on the other hand just remained silent and solemn.
The liquid was gone and beneath the ground there was a pale white light glimmering underneath. The light began to move slowly across the ground and the company followed it. A few minutes later it ceased all movement and sat still.
"Is this the spot?" whispered Tadrien.
"It must be" replied Celéndel "From the clearness of the light, she must be buried quite near the surface."
"We still have to dig?" said Belélith in shock.
"Yes, though not as much as we would have to have done had my Lord not given me this phial." explained Celéndel
Then, catching sight of the renewed mournful expression on Belélith's face, Celéndel continued further than he would have ordinarily done.
"There is naught to grieve for, Belélith" he said "Nimrodel shall not be destroyed as you fear, nor shall any part of her home be left disturbed, for the Lord gave me a second phial."
Belélith's eyes widened as Celéndel retrieved another phial, slightly larger than the first and containing a livid blue liquid.
"What is that?" Belélith asked.
"It simply undoes any change that comes over nature."
Belélith nodded to show his agreement and picked up his shovel.
The elves dug at the banks of Nimrodel for what seemed like hours until finally a glimmer of white light shone through a gap in the earth. Celéndel held up his hand to signal the others to stop digging. He laid aside his shovel and gently began to brush away at the loose earth underneath. Belélith and Tadrien knealt down and they too began to sweep away the dirt. Minutes later, a great clod of earth crumbled and fell away. What lay beneath would stay in the company's minds for as long as they lived.
Beneath the stilled hands of the elves; the top half of a woman's body was revealed. She was clad in sliver-grey, such was the garb of the Lorien people, and though the covering earth had stained the dress she wore, it still retained the shine of Elven tailoring. Her face, once pale pink with life was now as grey as her clothing for her prison of nature had not only stained her attire, it had stained her all over. Her fine chestnut hair once glossy and sleek was now matted with clumps of dirt clinging to each strand. Bit by bit, the surrounding elves brushed away the lower half of her tomb.
There she lay, daughter of Celiowyn and Violia. Strong she had been in life yet still death had claimed her. Though silent and lifeless, her expression was one of such calmness that she could have merely been asleep. Silence rained on the company and as they gazed down upon the young woman's body in despair. Grief was in all their faces.
The beams of the morning sun rippled through the trees and the leaves overhead rustled in the early breeze. Cold as he was, even Celéndel could not hold back the tears that flowed at the sight of Daealia's body. Finally, he wiped away the final tear and set to work again. He made his way to the top of the grave, bent down and placed his hands under Daealia's arms, ready to lift her out of the ground. Belélith still sat and grief and sadness enveloped him. He remained weeping on the ground and took no heed of Celéndel's movements.
Tadrien moved to the bottom of the hollow and took hold of her legs. In unison, they lifted her out of the grave and promptly set to work on removing what they could of the dirt on her clothing and skin.
Once the majority of the dirt had been removed, Celéndel poured the contents of the final phial into the hole. There was a slight shudder and new earth filled the void. Between them, with Belélith following in their wake, Celéndel and Tadrien carried Daealia's body up the slopes and back towards Caras Galadhon. Back to her home.
The following day, Haldir would not be comforted. He left his room, before anyone else was awake, and for many hours he wandered through the glades of Lothlorien. Finally, evening came and Haldir was met by his brothers outside his room and together they made their way down to the Crystal Hall.
The atmosphere in the Hall was one of sorrow and mourning and the chairs at the head of the hall had been removed and in their place, supported by oak beams lay a white coffin made of mahogany. Pearl it was in its colour and silver were the handles on either side. On either end of the coffin, a diamond was encrusted into the wood.
Haldir and his brothers made their way to seats at the front of the hall, past many elves who were already seated. Some were crying, some held sombre expressions. But whatever the expressions and emotions of the people in the room, the feeling was all the same. A sense of humility lingered in the air. All sensed it but none knew from where it came. The array of the people was similar. No matter what the clothing, the shade was all the same. Grey. The shade of deep respect and solemnity.
The service was not long but by the end, Haldir had long since dissolved into tears. His brothers fought hard to keep their brother comforted but even they found it difficult when they themselves were continually breaking down.
The congregation was led outside into the gardens where a burial place had been selected. Underneath a large elm the coffin was laid down in the grave. Orophin's arm was around Haldir's shoulder as his brother wept at the sight. Rúmil stood in silence, tears coursing down his own face. His gaze was fixed on the coffin that was beginning to disappear underneath the earth being piled back inside the grave.
In the years that followed, Haldir often returned to this place to think and remember all the times he had spent with Daealia. Never was her rest disturbed again, nor her memory forgotten by all that knew her.
Finally, when all trace of the coffin was gone, Haldir allowed himself to be led away by his brothers.
Night came upon Lorien as silently as a tiger would creep up on its prey. Once back inside his room, Haldir found that he could not weep anymore and to his surprise, found himself drifting off to sleep.
Rúmil wandered the corridors to Orophin's room and knocked gently on the door. There was no answer.
Rúmil pushed open the door and peered inside to make sure that his brother was alright. He saw Orophin lying on the bed, long since deep in slumber. Rumil closed the door quietly and slipped back outside.
Before going to bed, Rúmil decided he should check on Haldir. So he crossed to the far side and opened he door gently. He hoped that Haldir would be asleep, and to his relief, he was. Gazing into the sleeping face of his brother, Rúmil felt a feeling of pain stir within him. He recalled something that he himself had said to Orophin.
"Why do such tragedies happen to innocent people?"
Rúmil still hadn't found the answer and deep in his heart he knew that he never would understand why what happens, does. Haldir stirred in his sleep and Rúmil started, afraid for a brief moment that he had woken him. But Haldir slept on and finally Rúmil left his brother.
The cool night air flooded into the trees of Lorien. Higher up, tiny leaves rustled as the breeze swam lightly over them and still Haldir slept on. The pale curtains moved to the rhythm of the wind as it floated through the window of Haldir's quarters and down to where he lay in slumber. His silver, silken hair fluttered slightly and the air breathed over his silent head, caressing his unblemished cheeks. Above the natural sigh of the wind, came an even softer, melodic sound.
"Navaer" it seemed to whisper, "Navaer, Melethen. . . "
Outside the stars winked down from the heavens, clearly visible against the ebony sky and the trees of Lorien lay still and quiet once again.
END
NB: Elvish translations-
Melethen- My love
Navaer - Farewell