THE HALADIN

by Archaic Scribe

Chapter XIV

SACRED ASH

The burning rays of the sun had dried up most of the muck created by the steady downpour of rain that had been blanketing the earth, as of late, when Haleth rode into the ruins of Bryeth.

Great mounds of ash and earth enclosed the settlement in order to keep evil spirits at bay in an aim to protect this once prominent village that used to be brimming with the serenity and warmth of nature's welcome. These small hills of doom paid tribute to their defenders, compounded by the rain, which had now been given time to be dried by the continuous intensity of the sun.

Haleth scanned the area, weary from days of travel, as she dismounted her horse, a gift from the Elf-lord Caranthir. Her heart was open and her sentiment matching the exhausted state of her body as she gave herself over to the action of letting her guard down, accepting emotion from the hidden places of her soul.

"It seems you have formed new and powerful friendships, beloved," a kindly voice whispered with enticing charm, swept to her ears upon the reaches of a gentle current of warm wind.

Haleth's frame grew immediately taut as she stood frozen, her skin stretching, flesh reaching over her bones and vitality that felt translucent and bare. The rustling of this low, hushed tone was from a lover she had known and recognized in both life and death, a voice that had always solicited raw nerve and feeling, always bared for viewing, wanted or not.

"To what purpose can you appear before me unbidden," Haleth questioned aloud, her reaction of surprise turning to a bout of small fear at having not initiated the call or been the originator who could control the apparition.

There was a deep chuckle as the form of Bryeth then materialized before her and nodded to her horse and then settled his gaze upon her sheathed sword before he spoke.

"This is something I cannot answer for lack of knowledge," he said, standing quietly before her as he added suddenly, "First, to business - I am to bring a message that may bring you much anger and pain."

Haleth's eyes widened into pools of an opaque fog, showing slight alarm and trepidation as she commanded, "Then speak your message and have done with it."

Bryeth smiled at the change in her and the powerful leader she was forced to become due to unwanted circumstance, but his face quickly changed to a grim look of regret and sadness.

"Come," Bryeth spoke, holding his arm out to her in a silent, dictating invitation which left little room for even polite denial, "Let us go and sit near the mound of ash where my funeral pyre once stood."

Haleth moved rigidly with an automatic capacity, her heart wanting for her body to either remain where it stood, or take flight and proceed to Canute. The temptation and magnetic feeling of wanting she felt when taking in the raven black locks of Bryeth's long, thick hair would not be refused in passion, nor in a calm state of observation.

The two loyal followers of the Old Faith, one mortal and one made immortal through valiant death, sat for a long while in silence as the morning waned towards mid-day. The grass near the mound was vibrant and alive, the picture of fertile growth and vitality as Haleth let her fingers caress the long strands, feeling the coarse, silk-like texture.

Bryeth, with brown eyes radiating compassion, watched her carefully, finally speaking, "It is in this very spot that I stood against my last Orc."

Haleth inhaled the cool, crisp air through her nose and exhaled slowly in turn, bracing herself for further information while preparing herself in attaining a calm, sober defense.

"My spirit was moved with desperation in the heat of battle to look at yonder hilltop over there," Bryeth continued, pointing to the knoll that stood protruding from the earth to the north.

Haleth turned to follow the direction he indicated and then turned, looking expectantly at him to continue his story.

"It is on that knoll where I saw Lord Tunni, sitting tall in a flowing crimson mantle and hardened armor, shining in reflection at the sun's unwavering rays and atop one of his massive war-horses," Bryeth said slowly before he paused in his tale.

Haleth furrowed her eyebrows in anger before Bryeth continued, turning her face to his with hardened, cold hands, and meeting her direct gaze, "My heart sang with joy at his normally repulsing sight."

Haleth concentrated pointedly on his words as the few braids, which framed his face swung away from mingling with his long locks of hair. She fervently willed her mind and heart to process his words with the courageous acceptance and with the clarity of a powerless will to change what is past before he continued.

"He sat, smiling in what seemed an invisible haze of twisted happiness, unmoving and unwilling to lend any aid," Bryeth said flatly, his own eyes blazing like dark, hot copper set to the flame in a raging fire.

Her mouth dropped in horror, for it was Lord Tunni himself who sat upon his heavy war-horse, dressed for battle and smiling with treacherous malice down at Bryeth as the latter fell, caught unaware in his shock and hacked down by the filth of an Orc warrior.

She snapped her eyes shut, pressing her fingers to her eyelids, desperately wanting the image to disappear, but then opened them wide again as anger replaced the feeling of fear and mild wrath she had felt for Tunni these long months. With this sentiment strong in her heart, she vowed to curse more than his manhood and send it hurling with a good, swift kick into the depths of his body, but alas, her brain commanded her to acknowledge the realism that he was no longer of Midgard. There was no way to physically pain Lord Tunni, but Haleth vowed there must be some way which they could extract warranted revenge.

No, she thought, this betrayal warranted more than that sort of simple, interim punishment - it warranted something prolonged and which could be applied beyond the end of time. This sinister evil even surpassed that which he had done during the spring rituals, when he defiled her pride, but his outlandish treason had brought her world crashing down and admonished the loyalty which should have been steadfast between their people.

The release death had brought had not been a virtuous or just enough punishment for a man like Lord Tunni, a corrupt, despicable traitor who had done all but bring upon Bryeth the last death-blow in battle. Lord Tunni had not paid a dear enough price, Haleth thought with an unbridled frenzy of madness as she reflecting in a fleeting moment on their mutual disrespect for one another and their eventual endearing friendship. Betrayed on all levels of heart and mind, she thought ruefully.

He would have to pay a high price to her for his transgressions against the Old Faith as well as her loss of the family and happiness she would have surely had with Lord Bryeth.

"You could pursue him with me to the boundless abyss of time, if I were to leave Midgard now, could you not," Haleth finally said in a low, malicious voice filled with hate and fury, as she began to unwittingly struggle out of Bryeth's grasp which still held firmly to her face.

"You must hold yourself with restrain, firm against this vendetta that begins to take hold of your mind and trust to Frey to punish those who betray the Higher Laws," Bryeth finally said, resigned, but still holding her face firm between his lean hands, emitting brawn beyond all Haleth had seen. "I recognize your feeling of anger, but it is not your place to seek revenge, as you would will it - it is mine to have - and I faithfully give my revenge over to the gods. Do you not know that this is the most important of reasons as to why you were so punished when you arrived at Canute, seeking this memory that belongs to me?"

Haleth thought for a long while and nodded her acceptance, Bryeth's grasp loosening a bit, "Is there still not some way deemed right by the High Laws that you could accompany me on this journey, beside residing in the billowing smoke of my memory?"

"I cannot now leave this place, even for you, beloved, for what Freya bestowed at the Altar of Haldad was no trivial blessing of forgiveness for your wrongs," he said warily. "Let us leave this business to the gods of the Old Faith and make good use of my mortal body, mating as we should have done long ago, flesh upon flesh," Bryeth said swiftly, moving a dismissive hand in the air.

Haleth could not direct herself to move or consider logic, instinctively thinking about faraway consequences if there were to be rules to be broken by this tryst, but the thought was brief and swiftly disappeared, replaced, turning to boundless desire. She did not know or care if there were to be any repercussion that may result from this act, for all thought faded at the touch of Bryeth's eager and fervid attentions.

Sensations of desirous lust and longing careened out of her perception as the heat of his lips upon her flesh fueled a deep inferno, a furnace of overwhelming passion, craving, and yearning for his touch which burned an invisible brand, a permanent mark of mutual ownership seared upon her essence.

"We are one for all time, and you will know me again like this moment, though not in this world," Bryeth murmured in a deep growl of primitive hunger as he hurriedly removed her clothing. "Let us mate, so that my soul may be with you always as you walk the paths of Midgard. Our connection in flesh must be consummated while we have this opportunity, or your spirit may not recognize me when you depart this marred middle world."

A transitory thought occurred to Haleth that she voiced to Bryeth without restrain, "Will my body not be stripped of the ability to bring forth life to this world then, committing such an act of rebellion in the face of the gods, upon this land for purposes other than fertility. For surely, my lord, no life could come from this union, for you are now of the spirit world, and then what can be the purpose of such and act?"

Bryeth did not hesitate for an instant, his words caressing her hearing like smooth, thick, languid honey, "I do not possess that knowledge, but is it not worth risking in order to be bound together in the most ancient of rites for all of eternity? The seed of life, should it be planted, can be the beginning for us in another plain of time, the representation of a life for us that can come, if not a child to be brought to this place."

Haleth faltered in the midst of the scorching temptation Bryeth presenting, his fingertips and mouth exploring her body with a fierce energy that would not be denied, have I not been dealt with unjustly as of late and had to already bear an unfair burden? It this not my right to claim what I have been robbed of by ill fortune? A dangerous warning shouted alarm at her from deep within, you have incurred the wrath of Freya once before and were graciously redeemed, do not commit such folly again! What of a child of her own, to accompany her and inherit the place of chieftain among her people - maybe even a female child to carry on the ancient rites of Freya and keep the Old Way alive in this changing world.

"Let us have this moment, love," Bryeth pressed, moving his face back up to hers so that they were nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye, "And in later days, choose a worthy priest as your consort from Canute to continue your strong line, if you so desire an heir. My beloved Haleth, the Age of the Sons of Frey is over, as you well know, and the Age of Freya is being born anew in the tribe you now command. You will surely be sworn in ceremony The Oath at the Oath-stone upon your return, for many of the Sons of Frey from the tribes now dwell in the Great Hall."

"I do not know this for certain, but I feel it shall be as you now say," Haleth said with a pique of overwhelming irritation as her senses gave way to an invasion of sweltering, carnal appetite she dared not prohibit.

"Then let you begin this New Age with this one memory and eternal bonding instead of the anger and pain, the death and sorrow brought to you for those now lost to Midgard," Bryeth entreated passionately.

Caution thrown to the wind, Haleth closed her eyes to savor the sensation of his mouth on hers, moist and succulent, as he leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips, tongues tangled in a mutual assault of tangled desire.

"Your hands had to be clean of his blood, Haleth, you must surely understand this," Bryeth murmured in the secret hours of dusk thrusting itself onto the palate of horizon once belonging to the blistering sun, after long, gratifying hours of lovemaking. As a foggy mist rose from the earth and encompassed the two, Bryeth stood and walked away, fading into the change of day.

Haleth kneeled at the foot of the mound, wondering if what had happened that day was real, and not some delusion of tiresome and fatigued travel. Her thoughts drifted as she cupped a handful of ash in her hand and then moved her free hand downward to her thighs, mixing the sacred ash of the burial mound with the scented, mingled juices of their passionate encounter before walking to the ruins of Bryeth's homestead.

The skáli of Bryeth lay in ruins of stone and ash, broken bits of clay containers askew on the ground, meaningful relics strewn in disarray, an abstract melody of discord. Searching through the wreckage of debris for well nigh an hour in the darkness under a blanket of burning stars, Haleth found what she sought in her find of a small, unbroken jar.

Miniscule and easily hidden and with the blessing of Freya, overlooked in its unimportance, Haleth examined the jar, noting the small crack the made a thin fissure along the containers lid.

Smiling at the sweet memory of Bryeth and aching with sadness, Haleth poured the mixture of ash and the sticky, solid element of dried liquid into the earthen container made of terra cotta porcelain.

This was the only physical presence of Bryeth she could always hold near for security during the rest of her stay upon Middle-earth, for blessing, and for memory of a mating ritual dating back to the beginning of time. There was no hope for a traditional, earthly union with him. All that remained was to protect the people she was reluctantly entrusted with since her father and brother's death.

Haleth walked slowly, returning to the spot of Bryeth's death, were she had found the truth of his demise and the promise of passion and an eternal bond that even the gods could not deny or put asunder.

She laid down on the earth, its temperature cooling and crisp as she looked skyward at the numerous twinkling lights and saw a sight that amazed and reassured her of her doubts regarding her weakened will earlier that day, giving into a unique temptation, a gift.

From the darkened curtain of sky shot long beams of milky light, where on the twinkling of stars hung suspended in time and space.

The moon sleeps the slumber of the dead, the once born.

Where do these great, stretching beams of brilliance originate, bursting forth from nothingness, a great void, to grace mortal eyes, Haleth thought with wondrous astonishment.

Is it one of Freya's many admirers, forgotten with inattention and making his presence known in some prorogued overture to attract her attention through the night sky?

There is mysterious wonderment in this reflection where daylight passes through the veil of night, assisted by the polar ice cap of the great and majestic northland.

Haleth continued to look upward in bewilderment, a small sense of fear trying to gain a hold on her soul as she held it resolutely at bay.

These astounding rays of light streaking across the sky were indeed emanating from the north.

Haleth's stomach began to rumble with warning, her last meal having been in the morning when she broke her fast in one of the many stretches of woodlands that stood near the Dwarf-road before she rode the remaining distance to Bryeth.

Having eaten the rest of her rations, Haleth laid down under the protective, outstretched branches of trees that circled the village and closed her eyes, reliving in memory her coupling with Bryeth earlier that day as the cold of night began to make her teeth begin to chatter and her skin begin to raise its hackles in rebellion.

Gathering her cloak and wrapping it around her, she gave her mind over to sleep. Haleth's thought drifted into a fine, gray mist where bright flashes of vision appeared before her of mysterious creatures she had never before set eyes upon in this life. These creatures floated in her dreams, broad shouldered and black as the darkest night with eyes as dark as mined coal set upon a wide face.

The most prominent thought amongst this myriad of apparitions, was the sight of an unknown, dark-haired man with strange, short cut hair and penetrating green eyes, garbed in the priestly robes of Frey, moving as if he willed to haunt her dreams.

In a sudden flash of light, she could see herself riding north, towards Canute as the mysterious beams of light she had witnessed earlier lead her onward, where she felt as if they were pointing to the sacred, hidden halls of Valhalla, or rather to a new horizon, a new order and beginning for their tribe on Middle-earth.

If she awoke and left at this very moment, she could ride under the guidance of the Northern Lights, hooves clomping against unyielding earth, before the cresting brilliance of dawn forced her to stir from a fitful sleep.

There was an unknown movement in the darkness as Haleth mounted her horse and galloped to Canute, a hidden sanctuary against all manner of creatures, preserved by the ancient magic of the gods.

Haleth was haunted by a spirit that had lost all his tangible form, and lived only in her memory, and fully unable to protect her in life. The goddess, in her wisdom, would deem no man worthy to dictate any vision to her daughters who still lived upon the warring world below the heavens, even if such a man was chosen willingly by one of her priestesses.

No, Haleth thought, these visions and encouragement to be lead by this new, magnificent light was not bestowed to her freed mind by Bryeth, but by servants of the goddess, if not the goddess herself. The corporeal spirit of Bryeth would remain to haunt his village when not required in the Great Halls that resided in the heavens, which was the way the High Laws were meant to be applied.

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.