The Memoirs of Lady Haleth
by Archaic Scribe
The way the wind slapped us that day should have been warning of ill news. My brother, Haldar and I were practicing a friendly (but competitive, of course) play of sword.
There was a figure on the hill. His movement caught my eye instantly. He came riding down upon us, as I would imagine the fury of Thor himself. I remember the thought had made me smile for a moment before I set my face into another emotion, for I could see, or rather sense, even from a distance, that my father bore undesirable news.
The way his horse crushed the blooms of purple, yellow and orange that innocently grew in the fields by our homestead was like an omen. My senses were drawing near to something, but something inside me abruptly shut them down. The surprising action of this made me frown for I was puzzled, and disappointed that my priestess training under the tutelage of Canute could be commanded by something other than my direct thought or bidding.
Naturally, father joked about our grim faces for a moment. That was his way. Humor for most everything, even humor to preface devastation.
The news at first, was dire, but in my haste, I saw nothing we could do but act against the foul intruder. We would need to gather what we could of our forces and defend ourselves against the blackened Orcs that were sweeping down upon us from the Blue Mountains.
Ah! The Blue Mountains, the Ered Luin in Elvish tongue. How I used to gaze at them day after day and hour upon hour, meditating on the serenity of their image. There was a time when I loved them as a fire that burned too hot to extinguish, but alas, that was long ago, before they gave way their magnificent wall of protection to the enemy.
If I had lingered a bit longer, I would have found out from my father himself that the Village of Bryeth was the first to be sacked.
It was my twin brother, Haldar, that gave me the news. I could not blame my father for not telling me himself. He would have, I know, had I stayed longer.
Better the news should come from my brother, my other half.
Her majesty, the regal Blue Mountains, gave my beloved to the mercy of the Orcs - those filthy, vile shells of evil!
I look at my words on this parchment and smile to myself because I have put it so directly, so plainly, what I felt. It has taken me years to realize why I intensely desired to get out from under the shadow of my friend turned foe - the Blue Mountains - the worst kind of betrayal.
Ah, perhaps not the worst, but should this tale live on, by some miracle, the historians, the readers of these words, must judge that for themselves.
My beloved, Bryeth, was not only betrayed by the Mountain. Nay, he was also betrayed by one of our own tribesmen.
Even now, I can feel the pain. It encompasses everything I am, through my mind, body, emotion, the very core of who I am.
I recall, at that time, too many feelings at once. Too many places inside me screaming, aching. I fled, for the second time in my life, I fled.
My mother had been slaughtered in battle against the Orc, again, the Orc, years and years earlier. I barely remember the circumstances, but I remember the feeling and the wind that day. Deceptively warm. The sun even dared to shine.
The voice of the leaves whispered from the forest that day and I ran into their embrace, their calm. They were a comfort to me, calling to my spirit, we were one. I liken them still as if they were a messenger from my mother. I would swear on an Oath-stone to this day, that I could smell her scent in that wooded glen. The spirits of nature, especially the wilderness, would always protect me, she had whispered. I could feel the smile on her face that day, I swear it before Odin himself!
Alas, I veer off the subject at hand. I rode off and by the time my brother caught up to me on his steed, all of my confusion and shock had melded into anger.
I remembered, very clearly, expanding my blame of Bryeth's death, and all of our woe for that matter, to the Green Folk, the Nandor, the Green-elves, they were called in those days. It was because of the Dark Lord's war, his hatred for these fair folk, that our folk, our race, must suffer. But, again, there is more to that tale, for in the end, I know he hated us nearly as much.
Oh! How I hated the Elves in those days! That would be another emotion that would be turned later in my life. One I never would have foresaw.
Even now, dreams of the Elf-Lord of the North haunt me. Strangely, these dreams, these visions, fuse immortal with mortal, my beloved Bryeth, a man of our tribes, with the elf-lord, Caranthir. They are one in my dreams, yet, these are not dreams, but more like remembrances of lives past, of my lives yet to come.
Fortunately, Haldar stilled my rant, for the trees, as I well knew, had ears and not only could the blessed among our race speak their language, but so could the Green Folk of the Elves that were presently the target of my wrath.
In my fury, I had nearly gone mad, insane with blood nearing like to that of an overflowing boiling pot of water.
Very quickly, my anger ebbed to instant depression and regret. Even that day, I feel somehow I knew I would have no family, as my father Haldad had once had, as my brother Haldar now had.
My resentment ran deeper than I even I knew at that time. Again, after many years in the company of wisdom, I have learned myself, have dove to the deep parts of my own soul to see what is hidden in the darkness, in the recesses of black.
I had given up that day. My priestess training, my instinct, had failed me. I was disappointed.
How could I have not sensed Bryeth's death?
How could I have not felt this bond break before being told the news of his demise from another?
And The Blue Mountains. Once my trusted friend, my protector, had betrayed me, and, I would find out later, a bitter enemy turned trusted friend, would be added to that list.
Therefore, my brother and I set out for the stronghold of our tribe's greatest military establishment, Tunni. We desperately needed his might and the unspoken law of the tribes was that, independent nomads though we were, united we must stand in the face of our common enemies.
But Lord Tunni worried me, and for more reasons than just his blunt scoffing of the law.
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, for I have little money.