THE HALADIN
by Archaic Scribe
Chapter XIII
OF GIFTS AND RITUAL
An aurora of dazzling sunshine touched the exposed blanket of sparkling frost that covered the floors in meadows and woodland as Haleth moved among her people, offering continued condolences to those who had lost loved ones.
Jorhild moved with Haleth, matching her strides, as Haldan played a game of tag with the other children, whose normalcy was an inspiration to adults around them. To most any passing spectator, there would be nothing out-of-sorts that could be observed in these people as fires and cooking continued along with the normal daily tasks of laundering and typical chores.
Her fast still not broken from the time she awoke during the early hours of morning, Haleth finished speaking with those among her people that stood hovering around various campfires. She then ordered Jorhild to gather the remnant of their key personnel and bring them to the meadow where their leaders had been first overtaken by the Orc raiding party days earlier.
It did not take Jorhild long to complete this task, but while Haleth waited from them in the field, her thoughts began to stray to the loss she felt for her family before she quickly brought her focus back to what was next to be done. She still did not feel comfortable with mourning her losses because there was too much to be done and there would be time well enough in the future for personal exploration.
The people began to make their way to her and as they greeted her, Haleth returned their greeting with only a nod of respect and courtesy, daring not to speak, wishing to pour all her capacity and nerve in what was she was about to say in her address.
"Esteemed and noble people of the Haladin," Haleth said, collecting her strength and focusing it to her voice from deep inner feeling of her heart as she continued, "We have all suffered among us, a great and terrible loss of kindred."
Heads bowed among the leaders as shoulders hunched in lowly memory of most recent events, as this group, comprised mostly of women, stood before Haleth in a broad crescent ring.
"It is the design of the gods that have brought us here and it is for us to continue onward in hope and without question of their motives, for we are but mortal," Haleth said with a pause before continuing, "Let us bid farewell to our dead at the eve of this day and send what remains into a glorious pillar of smoke and fire!"
Sentiments of agreement were mimicked throughout the small crowd as Haleth's booming voice carried zestfully over the concourse of leaders, silently honor-bound to her as the inherent chieftain of their tribe.
"This is the eve of proclaiming a new age for our people, and we must regard it and respect as such for gone are the days when only the Sons of Frey alone shall rule these tribes. In this spirit, let us be guided by the purpose of accomplishing this new custom and way of life, and let us remove first to Estolad after we have garnered what we can from our homes. In the Encampment, we have kin, and we can now heal the sundering between our peoples, gathering information of new settlements that could be had, for our time in the shadow of this Blue Mountain is over. Let the shadow and wall of that mountain never betray our defenses again."
The council began to talk and mumble excitedly among themselves as Haleth raised her arms halfway up, the pain in her wounded arm smarting and halting her progress to its highest peak.
"Let us not debate on this day, but meditate on such thoughts and instead devote this day to the honorable dead who must fly to the Great Halls above us," Haleth boomed, reminiscent of her father's dialect and then, uttered a blessing of the goddess, Freya, before the crowd scattered back towards the settlement.
"You may speak of Estolad and parted kinfolk too soon for their liking, sister mine," Jorhild murmured as she walked beside Haleth in pensive silence.
"It is set out for them to consider for it is no light decision and I would not keep my thoughts from those once they have been formed," Haleth replied coolly.
Jorhild smiled warily and said, "But are we not too far sundered from this other race?"
"Perhaps," Haleth replied smoothly, "But the shadow of this mountain reaches too far for my liking and those who will come with me are welcome. Those who would choose to stay, shall be free to do as they will."
Jorhild was silent and then spoke after a long moment, "Our numbers dwindle," she said, looking out over the settlement as they neared the outskirts.
"They do," Haleth replied as she waved her unwounded arm to dismiss her comment, "But the quality of those who survive remains as strong as ever."
Jorhild agreed with a warm, kindling light in her eyes, "So it does."
Haleth bade her farewell and returned with fatigue to her tent as Jorhild assured her that all would be prepared for the pyre that night.
As Haleth opened the tent flap she made her way to the cot and laid down upon the soft bed the elves had provided for her recovery, physically exhausted and mentally spent.
"You have missed breaking your fast, Lady Haleth," Caranthir said as Linval came in bearing another meal of bread and broth.
Haleth visibly grimaced and said, "I grow tired of bread and broth. Healer, is there not something more hearty I can consume that fits your strict regiment of recovery?"
Linval would have raised his eyebrows with surprise had he been inclined to a visible human reaction, but instead stated, "I will see what I can manage for your next meal."
Smiling with renewed verve at the mere prospect of something more sustaining, Haleth thanked him as he exited the tent, again leaving her alone with the Noldor prince.
"When I first beheld you upon your mattress this day only a few moments ago, I thought you exhausted, but I can see you have quickly rejuvenated yourself at the sight of my personal healer," Caranthir observed with growing mirth.
Haleth grunted in agreement, feeling more in command of herself after the motions and formality of the meeting earlier that morning, "So I have."
I have thought men such simple creatures for far too long, the Elf-lord mused to himself at the off-handed thought that encroached upon his brain.
"Would you reconsider my offer, lady," he said, a serious note to his tone.
Haleth sighed and looked at him intently, "I have been doing nothing but reconsidering your proposal all night. Alas, I fear, but the desire to escape the shadow of the Blue Mountain is far too great to contend with, and with such an overpowering and steadfast conviction to the thought, I must follow what my first instinct has directed me to do, my honorable Lord."
Caranthir smiled regretfully, "You must do as you will it, then, lady, but you must always know that my friendship stands until your dying day, should you ever want for it."
Haleth smiled, touched beyond measure as a simple tear slid down her cheek, "You have my friendship always, Lord Caranthir, and you will be regarded warmly in my thoughts for the rest of my days."
Caranthir had never experienced or viewed the workings of tenderness of humans in such a way and was moved to a melancholy state of bittersweet emotion in his undying heart. He wept inside, no tears betraying his sentiment, as Haleth rose from her bed and walked towards him.
She stood before him, motionless and still for a moment, and then suddenly to her and Caranthir's surprise, Haleth pulled him into a firm embrace. Not knowing how to respond to such human affection, Caranthir stood rigid for a moment before tentatively placing his arms around her and holding her firm, returning her embrace in the same way she had given it.
Haleth's head rested between his neck and chest, in the arms of a god, Haleth thought fleetingly, pulling away at the sudden realization and uncomfortable prickle of heat that moved throughout her body.
"Many thanks for your kindness and care," Haleth said with earnest sincerity, walking to the side table and removing the bread Linval had so kindly left for her as Caranthir stood for a moment in awe.
Quickly, the covering of the tent flap closed with a soft whisp and thud behind her as Caranthir stood in reflective thought outside the doorway before making his way to the commander of his garrison.
After a short rest that morning, Haleth returned later that afternoon to once again gather her energy before the burning of the dead and the feast that would follow, when to her surprise, she found an unexpected and extraordinary gift in her tent. Laid atop the soft layers of blankets covering her bed was a long silver blade, which was glowing with elvish script that seemed to harness an ancient and deadly power.
Haleth dared not to touch it, though her craving to handle the burnished blade was overpowering much of her rational thought and the desire to harness its power and make a long, sweeping strike at anything stationary in order to test its strength was near unbearable. Instead, she simply stared at it for long moments, moved beyond measure, not even hearing the tent cover open as Caranthir entered.
"A small token of goodwill which represents my protection and friendship to you, wherever you may roam," Caranthir said simply as he moved towards Haleth.
A small token to you, my Lord Caranthir, and a great gift beyond repayment, Haleth thought with humble embarrassment as she continued to eye the sword before she looked up at the Elf-lord who commanded a regal aura that engulfed the room.
"What you bestow is beyond any measure of value I can deem worthy of repayment," she whispered breathlessly in admiration.
"The blade is only worthy of the one who wields it and easily befits a woman of your courage and brave heart, Lady Haleth. May you recall me with fond memory whenever you use it and may the fierce fire of Fëanáro bring death upon those who wish to thwart you."
Haleth shivered at his last words and blinked, "What is Fëanáro?"
Caranthir hesitated for a moment, "He is my father. Fëanáro was given to him by my grandmother and means 'Spirit of Fire' for he was a great talent among our kind."
Haleth knew not to press anymore questions upon the Elf-lord and smiled sheepishly at him, feeling as though she had brought up something that pained him, though he carried on in an almost flawless fashion.
"There are supplies and food for you and your people, lady," Caranthir said as he moved close to her.
"Many thanks for all you have done for myself and my people, Lord Caranthir. Our lives would have been forfeit had you not arrived with your host. Surely, my life would have been lost, save for Linval," Haleth said with a sigh, regretting that they must part.
"You have his many blessings and mine as well, lady. We will make ready to depart by twilight and leave you to your own rites," Caranthir said with a respectful bow.
"May Freya look favorably upon your kindness to us, and keep you in her protection against all evil," Haleth said, raising her hand in her traditional stance, bestowing an ancient blessing.
Caranthir closed his eyes at the uninvited and unanticipated blessing from a foreign god he had never heard of during his many years of life. Even so, Haleth had touched upon his heart in that moment, unexpectedly. Unwillingly, his mind's eye was moved beyond Middle-earth to a place other than Valinor, which he did not know. Before he could comprehend any of the surroundings, they had disappeared entirely as he opened his eyes and looked upon her with newness.
The Lady Haleth stood before him, radiating some otherworldly glow that was mysterious to Caranthir, an arcane feeling that made him shiver with longing for knowledge and comfort of soul.
The Elf-lord moved quickly to embrace her in the fashion she had done earlier that day, desiring to communicate the affection to her she had shown him, so that she understood that she was held in his esteem. He held her then, this human woman of the Edain, comfortable and firm with mutual affection, adding only this new hunger for closeness that was like a fresh, striking disturbance of pain weighing heavy upon his heart.
The time had come for them to leave one another's presence, but they both lingered, enfold in each other's arms, uncontent to depart and uncontent to stay in longing silence.
Suddenly the tent flap flipped open and Jorhild walked in, talking casually with Linval as they both stopped in stunned silence. Haleth made to move abruptly, but Caranthir lingered, and turned back to look at Haleth, ignoring the intruders, sensing her unease but not experiencing her awkwardness at the interruption.
Jorhild's mouth was agape, and she did little to mask it while Linval stood in questioning silence, wondering at this strange, obviously human display of communication from his Lord to this woman of the Atani.
Linval quickly surmised that it was the custom of communication with these people, for he had viewed other Edain in the encampment holding each other in a similar stance. Still, he looked at Haleth, whose face had turned unnaturally pink and then to Jorhild, whose face was a similar shade, though darker.
Slightly worried and still wondering at the reaction of the women, he immediately moved to his table of medicines which he had left for Haleth to administer to herself after he had gone and searched for some antidote to cure this strange coloring of skin.
Finally, Linval came upon a slave that he had frequently used as a antidote for just about any sort of skin ailment and moved to Jorhild's face, holding up fingers full of the cream to administer on her face.
Jorhild looked at him in horror and sent him a look that would have stopped many a man dead in their tracks while Caranthir finally broke their embrace and looked to see what unrest there was in the atmosphere that generated from the direction of Jorhild and the most prized healer in his service.
Haleth began to laugh as she turned from Caranthir again to look at Jorhild and Linval, a relieved and long laughter that had too long been buried over the last weeks of turmoil and disorder. Tension left her body like a powerful wave, crashing upon a soft shore.
Caranthir and Linval looked at her, puzzled, as Jorhild glared darts of embarrassment, turning and stalking from the room.
The elves stood in utter and complete confusion at the opposing reactions they viewed from each women. Linval withdrew from the tent in exasperation and Haleth, gaining even breath, shook her head at Caranthir.
"I cannot answer the question I see behind your eyes," Haleth said jovially, "'Tis only the strangeness of human nature."
Caranthir's eyes twinkled at what seemed sincere happiness, glad to see his charge, even though she was a walking essence of complication and charm among any Atani women he had yet met, genuinely experiencing a moment he had not yet seen grace her exquisite features. Had she but been born among the Eldar, he thought with rueful mirth, they would have been a pair to be reckoned with by any standard.
From a grassy knoll overlooking the encampment of Haleth, the Elf-lord of the North, Caranthir Fëanorian, sat upon his majestic white steed, his dark features disappearing into the midnight blue of the dark sky as stars twinkled behind him in flickering radiance.
The people stood before the Lady Haleth, leader of the Second House of the Edain, with torches of fire that set flame below the open sky and stars of Varda. What ceremony would these Secondborn practice, Caranthir contemplated.
He could barely pick out her features, even with keen Elvish eyes, for she was almost as dark in countenance as he with equally fair skin, Caranthir realized. The unbidden thought brought more biting regret, gnawing at his heart, which had grown weary with foreign emotion. Another bond between them that would not endure time. A brief glimmer of companionship in a sea of endless ages upon this marred land.
Turning with an ache of discontent, Caranthir could little endure another look at that which would be vanquished to him throughout eternity. There would be no race of Atani in the land of Valinor, should he be ever blessed to return, which was in its own thought, a glimmer of a false promise that would never be recognized. The sons of Fëanor had not only turned their back on the Powers, but also snubbed them and then committed the most heinous of all sins against their kin.
Over and above my personal pleasure, the Elf-lord reasoned, there is an ancient ritual here that should be known only between Eru and his Secondborn children. I have committed enough transgression against my Creator and the only gift allowable is more than enough, that her image and will shall be burned into my senses for eternity.
Haleth's peripheral vision caught the movement, far away in the darkness, of the departure of her friend, a worthy companion had he been of mortal blood, Haleth mused with regret. Already, Haleth wondered at her own wisdom of not accepting such a kind and generous offer, but, shaking her head with small violent nods, she pushed the notion to a deep alcove of her thought, well out of obvious attention.
Taking a great, cleansing breath, Haleth stood in complete and utter stillness, her arms resting flat at her sides, no outward movement, with her eyes closed in pure meditation.
Ever slowly, she lifted her arms high, ignoring the pain in her sore arm, her face also raised in homage to the sky commanding in a strong voice, worthy of Haldad, "Light the fires, for under twilight, we consecrate the shells of those we love from ash to earth and from earth to wind. Carry this last fire of life on your wings, great wind, and lift them to their rightful home!"
After a few moments of reverent silence, Haleth opened her eyes, the powerful prayer said with bold request and a pool of mist, which now clouded her eyes.
The Haladin stood, a large circle around the great mass of remains stacked in unity, a mound of death, ravished by an enemy who had no respect for life of any kind. A weary despondency engulfed those of the Haladin left behind and moved many of them to issue forth flowing, ceaseless tears that ran down pale and weathered cheeks.
"To the Great Halls of Valhalla," Haleth said with a resounding cry as her shout was echoed among the small mass of people who had assembled for the ceremony. An errie incantation was chanted by the people, flowing across the earth following Haleth's statement, rising to its peak, as the flames grew higher and higher towards the sky.
Not a lone figure among them moved, lingering until the flame began to render back to its former height when the torches had first been laid to wood and flesh, bone and liquid.
The ceremony had worn on well into the night time hours before Haleth announced a time to feast and celebrate the journey of those who had passed on to the other plain of existence.
As Haleth made her way back to the campfires, still surrounded by tents left for the Haladin by the elves, she felt a meaty hand firmly grip her shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. Turning, she met the sharp and focused intense eyes of Beinir, the craftsman and smithy who had been a long-time friend of Haldad's family from many years before Haleth and Haldar had been born into the damaged world.
A far-reaching smile crossed Haleth's face immediately as she embraced him without hesitation. Gudrun had reported to Jorhild after the battle that he had lived, but he had been hard-pressed carrying out the wishes of Jorhild, on behalf of an unconscious Haleth.
Haleth yearned to ask him why he had not come to visit her, but remained quiet, fearing what his answer might evoke in his heart. She knew her father and Beinir had shared a brotherly bond, and did not want to face his emotion or what sadness it might awaken in her, for their was much yet to do and the time for continued mourning was not now.
No words did Beinir speak, as he blessed her and departed, lost in a small throng of people who passed onward towards a feast of elvish delights and fresh meat, hunted and skinned that day, roasting over open flames.
As appetizing as the smell of food was to her awakening senses, Haleth made her way to the meadow where the makeshift Oath-stone had been erected when Orcs had come upon them unawares.
The cold air brushed her skin, but she removed her clothing and laid flat upon the earth under the stratosphere of her goddess, protected by the circle of trees and under the open expanse of dimming sky as the first hint of dawn pushed through what remained of the night.
Meditating and focusing all her thought and will, Haleth prayed aloud to her guardian, the female deity who knew her destiny, "You have requested the blood offering of my father, and my brother, Great Mother Freya. Let our days now be blessed with fertility and strength to always defend ourselves and what is ours."
The next morning at the small encampment, the Haladin took turns approaching the mound and paying last respects to the recently departed and then spread dirt over the ashes and remains of bone, one by one, until the mound of ash became a mound of dark earth. The Haladin did this in an almost disturbing silence, having grown somewhat accustom to elvish ways. Only now, did the errie absence of fair voices raised in song as the Eldar went about daily tasks become unnerving.
After the hill was completely buried Haleth spoke, "Seek your homesteads and glean what you may, for your opportunity to remove to Estolad and our kin is drawing near. We will meet at this sacred mound and prepare to cross the river when the moon next shines new and full."
This statement was greeted with murmurs of both question and agreement throughout the crowd even though the other leaders had been given time to contemplate and give the idea consideration. Haleth would not force any to follow, but instead set the time and place to depart, should any want to accompany her on her journey from the reaching shadow of the mountains and painful memories.
"We are prepared for the path home," Jorhild said, coming to stand by her side.
Haleth turned to her with a strange look in her eyes Jorhild had not ever beheld in her.
"I will be taking a different path, sister mine," Haleth said firmly as she walked to one of the horses left to her by Caranthir, her bag of supplies already packed and loaded for her departure.
Jorhild looked at her in shock, her gaze questioning as Haleth rode fast, disappearing into the brightness of the sun that hovered above the Dwarf-road nearby, riding along it and the River Ascar, straight east, towards the furthest outpost of the village of Bryeth.
The beams of the sun had quickly banished the gloomy clouds that had been haunting them these last, fateful days as Haleth's black horse raced on, bidden to do all that she willed of him by his previous master, Caranthir Fëanorian, Elf-lord of Thargelion.
Story Notations
Of Caranthir Fëanorian. Admittedly, I do not know whether I have the last name correct, but it is as close as seems to be provided in what I have found. It is highly conceivable that I overlooked something that would have given a more clear answer. Obviously, I do not write much on elves and am less familiar, or experienced, with their characters and the proper uses of their last names. If you can swear on your life "Fëanorian" is used incorrectly, please let me know and provide the correct citation point for me to reference, so that I may present it correctly.
On Viking Funeral Rites. It should be noted, that the ritual of funeral pyres and then the burial of the remains such as bone, ash, etc., is more specific to practices in Sweden and further east. After the burning, what was left would be buried in a clay pot, or some sort of container, beneath a mound of earth. This was noted of as an old custom. The reason I note it in this story, is because most of the ritual and traditions have mostly been specific to Norway and Iceland and I did not want anyone to be confused as to specific origin.
Haleth's gift of battle-ax to Jorhild, for Haldan, is one of slight deviation as well, as you may recall from an earlier chapter where Beinir crafts a knife for Haleth since her mother's was buried with her, in accordance to custom. This is a more significant sign of changing times and rule representing Haleth's independent thinking in the early stages of her leadership. It is highly sentimental deviation too. She is motivated by emotion, rather than a strict adherence to custom, a sure sign of a changing society where she justifies things to herself in order to validate them in her own mind as she begins her task of ruling those who remain, I suspect.
My reason for this deviation from what the story has been based on thus far, relating mostly to Norway and Iceland is merely a subtle and gradual sign of changing times for Haleth's Folk. They are moving from a male-dominated society to a female-dominated society of priestess warriors, who it the beginnings of what is meant to become the reference in Tolkien's Unfinished Tales, "...for their cheiftainess Haleth was a renowned Amazon with a picked bodyguard of women."
Now, back to humans - no more elves this story, which is both a relief and a sorrow for me. I will miss writing Caranthir because he really turned out to be an interesting character for Haleth to meet, but I am at the same time relieved he is no longer a part of the continuing story. Poor Haleth has enough to explore and accomplish without his commanding, immortal presence! ;-)
Disclaimer:
Characters and situations of The Silmarillion (Second Edition) by J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien are the property of The J.R.R. Tolkien Copyright Trust and Christopher Reuel Tolkien.
Produced solely for the enjoyment of other fans and not for any monetary profit. Please do not sue me, as I have little money.