Thankyou ---- Sarah (I hope you keep reading too!!), Lex (thanks for the encouragement), Sokochan (thanks, yeah Haldir is a bit of a jerk isn't he!!), Bellasinn (intrigued is good!! –lovely name btw!), Jfrog (it's definitely oroginal – ever heard of a blind elf?Thankyou!) and Maja (my beautiful first reviewer – thanks for your support – please keep R'nRing) ---- I love you all, muchos besos and good luck.
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Haldir motioned the rest of his company to melt back into the undergrowth and to their outposts, even though he himself stood, arms folded over his chest, in the clearing unmoving. A strong silver tree unbending in ways more than physical. No matter how hard he seemed to try he could not shake the image of those sightless eyes staring at him with a keenness that it made his skin crawl. And how she spoke to him, the venom and passion in her words made it clear she felt every word she said. Was he truly compassionless and without love? Haldir shook his head, clearing his thoughts, she had simply unnerved and disgusted him that is all. As one hand clasped the first rung of the ladder that ascended into the canopy he felt a familiar presence in his mind and sighed slowly.
Haldir, Haldir, what have you done?The Lady Galadriel often communicated to her March Warden in this way when he was far from Caras Galadhon, letting Haldir know whether to permit, detain or turn away strangers who entered her realm. In all the time though in his position, one he had held for hundreds of years of men, he had never heard her so saddened and he could guess its cause. Knowing the Lady disapproved of his actions hurt his pride and turned his heart even further against Câlavendë, more than anything she had said or done. Câlavendë had turned the Lady against him, or so he thought. Like a petulant child refusing to admit his actions had been the source of his parents anger, so Haldir tried to justify his actions which brought upon him Galadriel's irritation.
Haldir, it was you who made this decision, at no word from me. Why, March Warden? What made you not wait for my command?He tried to reason, that she had defied him and also used her staff against one of his company, his own brother no less. Why shouldn't he send her away?!
You were sending her away long before she raised arms against you.
There was no denying this, and a small feeling that could have been guilt arose in his mind. Chastised, he became subservient again. What would you have me do?
Bring her back Haldir, bring her to me…Haldir knew she didn't add, as you would have done. A swift bird like whistle was all he needed to bring his company back to him. He was about to allocate roles of retrieval when a small shift in consciousness, that could have been a sly smile, entered his mind.
And Haldir, bring her back yourself.
Ahh yes, the Lady was unique and cunning in many ways. He sighed and quickly explained the course to his company ignoring the grin that Orophin was sporting; he knew of Galadriel's reproof, no one else could have made Haldir order his company to help bring Câlavendë back, and couldn't help rubbing it in to his "Pride of Lothlorien" older brother.
* * * * * *
Câlavendë tried not to cry, tried not to let one tear of despair slide out of her sightless eyes, but it was no use. Their treatment had brought back her memories of all the times she had been turned away, spat on, jeered at and generally despised by all those she met. It seemed as though no one was willing to see beyond her blindness, that by being sightless she was seen as somehow evil and unable to be intelligent or independent, both of which she was more than capable of proving them wrong.
She had come to rely, perhaps a little to heavily, on her staff as both weapon and guide. Without it, she felt lost and disorientated in her perpetual night. The strategic walk that Haldir noted was literally in itself a strategy to see. The staff's smooth, clubbed end was swung diagonally from her right hip on a slight angle to the left no more than a finger span from the ground and then she would take a step forward whilst it swung back. Using the staff this way was like a quick feeling of the ground and terrain. Luckily because of her elvish blood she could feel the presence of living things, especially that of flora and fauna, so bumping into trees and branches had never really been a problem. Just trying to picture things she felt and orientate them so that they made sense and built up a carefully layered 'idea' only of her surroundings was what she found hard. Only Shaneth had asked her how she saw the world…
~~~~~~
The fire crackles, its warm heat bathing my face in light; warm red, orange and golden light that I will never see again. Already the colours, the shapes are disappearing and the blackness seems to cloud the mind, like the feeling of being watched by a Nazgul put into shades and draped across your vision. I start when a large hand touches mine where it rests in my lap.
"H-h-how do you see?" Shaneth asks with his soft, musical voice; the voice of a bard.
"See Shaneth? I don't, not anymore."
He shifts closer and I hear the gravel move underneath him.
"No, No. L-l-look h-h-harder. See with the s-s-s," I can hear him take a breath and struggle with the word, "-soul."
I don't exactly know what he means, seeing with your soul, but I try, I try for him, a man I can truly call a friend. An outcast because of a deformity that causes him to be small as that of a child on one side of his body and not on the other, he is terribly shy, hence the stuttering. Yet Shaneth has a heart of gold and a voice to match even that of the Master singer himself, Daeron. Whilst Shaneth sings, he does not stutter or stumble and stands with a proud bearing resemblant of the highest bard in the royal court. He befriended me as I shivered in the gutters of Dol Amroth and nursed me back to health, training me with use of the staff and singing to me when the darkness and grief held me in their thrall. Now he is asking me to see with my soul, how can I deny him?
I reach into my soul, into my being where 'I' is an entity and with all my senses tried "seeing." I focus hard and eventually I "see", with my other senses of hearing, smell, touch and instinctive edhel skills, an extremely faint outline of trees and the moving outline of the fire, nothing more.
"All I see/feel is shadows of the world Shaneth, nothing more." I sigh wearily, my vigour gone, and pat his hand soothingly.
"That is g-g-good. It is e-e-enough f-f-for now."
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Câlavendë never saw more than those outlines and it took so much concentration, so much energy, to see them, that sometimes she did not bother, totally relying on her ability to "feel" the living. Today though, without the aid of her staff, she stumbled over every tree root, every rut in the ground, every slippery, lichen covered stone. Two silent tears slid down her face at the thought of this humiliation – an edhel was above all things light of foot and here she was blundering over the earth like a drunken human. Though the ropes on her wrists were not tight they encumbered and slightly overbalanced and with no one was guiding her where to go, she felt she was truly walking alone. For the fifth time she stumbled badly and almost fell, I tiny cry coming from her lips.
The cry did not go unheard. Rúmil, who trailed closely behind carrying her staff, had watched her faltering progress with a growing sense of pity and concern. His heart was always that of kindness and sometimes, even though he was loath to admit it, he despised killing and would give a quick death not prolong the agony of passing like some did. It was almost too much for his soft heart to bear watching an elleth tied and stumbling when he had seen her not long before with a grace that rivalled many he knew. The blindness kept him in check, a curse of the Valar upon her he supposed, but when he heard that one little cry after not hearing a sound from her since they left his brother, his heart broke and no matter the Valar's curse he could not go past someone in need.
With a swift clean flick of his blade he cut her bonds, which fell unheedingly to the forest floor. Touching her elbow, he gently made his arm so that she could both lean on him and follow where he led.
"My lady."
The surprise Câlavendë felt was so much that she was at a loss for words. The sudden freedom and edhel contact was nothing like what she expected. In her mind she had put all the Lorien elves into the category of arrogant and heartless, then this one act of kindness turned her judgement on its head. Was it some sort of trick, a joke, were they laughing at her?
"Are you not disgusted by my horrendous, misshapen form?" She spoke softly with a world of bitterness.
"Disgusted, no. – watch your step here – perhaps 'afraid of' is the better terminology."
Dorviel and Malachon shared amazed glances, but did not interfere.
"Why?" The one word she uttered could have been asked about a lot of things, why his help, why was she being treated so, but he decided to interpret it as 'Why be afraid'.
"Because – careful – anyone cursed by the Valar must have angered them – there is a log here, step over it, that's it –greatly to receive such a punishment and…"
So they think I am cursed, if only it was that simple…~~~~~~
"I will retain my innocence, my Lord, for guilty, I – am – not!"
The Chamber becomes silent, not a whisper of breath or rustle of cloth can be heard from the attended, and those who would judge me for something I had never done. A long shallow gash on my leg begins to throb and I notice for the first time that my body is shaking, signs of shock and fatigue.
Prince Imrahil's boots clip the smooth marbled floor as he makes his way towards the dais, then sits brooding upon the mithril and mother-of-pearl adorned throne.
"Is there anyone who will speak for her? She stands convicted of kin-slaying, treason and spy-craft, the first of which is enough to seal her own death. Will anyone speak?"
I lift my head and implore without sound those who surround me to help, anyone, but their eyes are cold and hard. Judgemental. I can almost see their thoughts, how they must think I am greedy, sly, cunning and already disowned I am nought, but a beggar. I have no favours to be reclaimed, no debts to be repaid, nothing. The silence stretches on and I can feel my hope slipping through my fingers.
Then a voice, a thickly accented child's voice, sounds from out of nowhere and an uneducated and slightly scruffy human child pushes her way through the crowd and out into the open.
"I will, I will speak for Câla."
It couldn't be.
"Who may you be little mistress?" the surprise in his voice clearly audible.
"Johanna, dawter of Hannos, your 'ighness."
"And how many winters have you seen?"
" 'leven winters, your 'ighness."
"Do you know what this trial is about Johanna, daughter of Hannos?"
"Aye, my lord, I do."
He strokes his chin thoughtfully.
"Then speak."
I shake my head in amazement and regret; she is standing up for someone who has shown kindness, but never been a friend, not knowing that by doing so she is in mortal danger.
"Câla has 'elp'd most of me friends and me keep warm and 'appy in the cold. She takes time to make clothes that don't itch, and fit us and patches up and cleans our old ones. She reads to us sometimes too, 'av ye ever 'eard the story of the Wild Swans, sir? No one tells it like Câla! I 'aven't 'eard 'er raise 'er voice or 'urt anyone and I 'av known 'er since I was a wee girl. The most dangerous thing she 'as is a needle for sowin' and not once 'as she prick'd me, though she 'as done it to her thumb so many times. I know Câla, she wouldn't 'urt a firefly. She is the nicest person I know and I am sure she didn't do anythin' bad. You didn't did you, Câla?!" She turns her dear, sweet, innocent face to me and I feel a tear on my cheek and wipe it quickly away.
"No dearest, no I didn't."
"See I told yer and she promis'd she wouldn't ever lie to me. Not since Ledholin said 'ee was taller and I knew that 'ee wasn't because 'ee 'ad put mud in 'is shoes to be taller, she promis'd never to lie like Ledholin."
Murmurs reverberate through the Assembly, wondering about the child that wipes her nose on her sleeve and stares defiantly up at the Prince. There is a hush that sweeps over them when his highness, glides forward, kneels in front of Johanna and tilts her chin so that he can stare clearly in to her eyes. He searches them for a time before standing straight again and laying a protective hand on her thin shoulder. This was the compassionate Prince I had seen as a seamstress.
"Thankyou, Johanna daughter of Hannos, you may go now," his voice soft and fatherly, but Johanna catches the hem of one of his silver sleaves and clasps it between her cold, clammy, tiny hands, eyes as round and wide as saucers.
"But Câla, Câla will be alright won't she," and I watch her bottom lip tremble slightly, a sight that tears at my heart as she is always so adamant about never crying, never showing weakness.
The Prince drops his voice to a low whisper so that none of the court can hear and I strain to catch it.
"Perhaps, little one, perhaps. Go home and may health and happiness find you."
Johanna steps back, releasing her hold on his garment and makes what could be seen as a curtsy.
"Thank-ye sir, but I don't 'av a 'ome."
I watch her retreating back as she makes for the doors, the crowd parting before her and closing in again once she passed. Was there hope for me after all?
"There was nought but truth in the child, known as Johanna daughter of Hannos, and we must take this into consideration. I cannot with such an affirmation of good will as this, in my conscience, commit such a person to death. Pure evil only deserves death."
I hang my head and cover my mouth with my hand in shock and thankfulness. Thank the Valar, thank Yvanna, thank the powers of this world. Life has been given to me.
There is a movement out of the corner of my eye and I watch as he steps forward, my stomach lurching painfully with frightening certainty that he will bring about my doom.
"How do we know she hasn't paid the urchin to say this? You cannot let this wretch go unpunished because of one vermin's outburst about humanity. Irrefutable signs point to her, she was found with blood splatter on her dress, the weapon of kin-slaying was the very one made for her by your highness," yes, the one you stole and betrayed me with! "So you will not order death, but will you let the murderer of your best friend, your trusted comrade who saved your life on the battlefields and brother of your wife, go free of penalty?"
I feel the torch ignite on my funeral pyre. The hope I hold vanishes, how can Imrahil not listen to this counsel?
"Still with doubt in my mind I can not order death, but I agree with your sentiment, what do you propose?"
A whispered suggestion passes and I see a flashing pity well in my lord's blue eyes as his gaze turns to me.
"Very well, but maybe it will be worse than death. Do you, People of the Assembly, agree to exile and sightlessness for all eternity as punishment for Câlavendë Sûliell? Cast you judgement."
I watch as people, lords and ladies, people I have worked for, people I know, cast either a black stone for no or white stone for yes into a great earthenware jar. There briskly steps the lady who has five blue dresses all in different hues, but with the same embroidered leaf motif on the hem. There is the lord who wants only pearl buttons on his white shirts. There goes the couple whose wedding garments has shone with golden thread. There is the maiden who adores burgundy velvet; the lord who hates orange. All are deciding my fate.
I can not bear to watch as the stones are counted in front of everyone, before half the jar is done the overwhelming odds are in favour of yes and by the end only seven and forty people in the entire Assembly have voted no.
"It is decided," my lord proclaims and the sceptre he holds slams down on the marble floor three times in finality.
Boom. Yes.
Boom. Exile.
Boom. Sightlessness.
Prince Imrahil strides purposefully towards me, and I can tell there will be no pleading, no begging, no mercy. I only have one last request of him.
"My liege lord and ruler, I beg of you if it is so to be my fate, for my last sight to be that of my choosing."
"As you wish." Do I hear his voice waver?
"From the balcony then, towards the sea, my lord, then, do as you must." I am surprised to find a strange kind of peace envelope my soul and I feel myself rise without faltering and step tentatively towards the edge where I can see out across the city to the sun shining on the water.
I feel his sword hand gently resting upon my head as I see a Grey Ship leave the Port, wind full in it's sails, and two gulls swooping around, joyfully heralding the evening. As my vision begins to blacken around the edges I watch the gulls until they are all that I can see and then they too disappear and I am lost.
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Câlavendë did not hear of Johanna, daughter of Hannos again. She thought it best not to tell Rúmil of his error; a curse was much easier to explain than betrayal, blindness and exile.
"…and anyone who used a staff like that without sight deserves to be wary of! What else might you do, spring wings and fly?"
She was surprised to find a small smile forming on her lips.
"Alas no, my lord, for sadly I'm allergic to feathers," she commented mischievously. Would he see the joke?
"What a pity then, I was hoping for a demonstration before you left. Oh well, at least you have provided some entertainment from the dullness of slaying marauding orcs. – Oo watch that! Sorry, that was a hole -. The stunt you pulled on my brother had him shaking in his shiny leather boots." Rúmil was enjoying his conversation surprisingly forgetting he was talking to one supposedly cursed and banished from the Golden Wood. Câlavendë gasped.
"Your brother, my lord?"
"Oh don't my lord me, just Rúmil will be fine. And yes that was Orophin, older and less handsome than me, but younger and more reckless with maidens than Haldir."
She choked back a moan.
"I threatened the March Warden's brother?"
"Yes, and a good choice it was. I wouldn't have minded if you had kept him there a little longer, while he was thus distracted it would have given me time to tell him he still owed me two perfectly balanced knives and if he didn't promise to bring me them by tomorrow I would give you my full permission to mar his perfectly flawless neck."
Dorviel and Malachon chuckled slightly at the eccentricity of their younger companion.
"We are here and I think you, Master Rúmil, will kindly obey orders."
Câlavendë felt Rúmil stiffen slightly and withdraw his arm, though she was again surprised when he squeezed her hand with one of his gloved ones in reassurance.
Her staff and dagger were given back, perhaps a little cautiously and some rations were stashed in the pouch held at her belt. She wouldn't allow Rúmil to give her more than she knew he was ordered to.
"Walk into the wind to head south, and may you find peace in fairer places Lady Câlavendë."
"May the wind carry you good fortune Master Rúmil." She wished with all her heart all people could be like Rúmil, or at least have some of the goodness and decency she felt radiating from him like a golden sun.
Turning to face towards the wind – something she had never done, travelling against the wind – when a sarcastic and arrogant voice, the very sound which she hated with more loathing than she thought could be possible in an anyone.
"I was hoping we would never meet again, but it seems you are hard to be rid of, elleth."
"Nice to meet you so soon again, March Warden. Come to see I obey your decree? Well you do not need to be in fear of non-compliance, I was just taking my leave."
"Believe in me the pleasure of your acquaintance was never to be felt again, and the timing being so close together not out of added desire to add to the memory's poignancy," Câlavendë gritted her teeth at his tone. "But it seems we both have to endure the other for a little longer. You are required at Caras Galadhon, by order of the Lady Galadriel."
Nothing else could have shocked her more.
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NOTES: So this is the second chapter. A little bit more info, I guess, and I hope still enjoyable. What do you think so far? I have many twists in the plot to come so beware!! See the little lilac button – it's calling you to review!! Please help me to write faster and better by REVIEWING!!