See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews. If you don't like something, please let me know so I can improve. I don't consider constructive criticism to be "flames."
I must admit I find this "journal" format to be very constraining and probably won't try it again. It doesn't let me show how the other characters see things except through their words or actions. Hopefully more of Jason's point of view later in the story will help.
Marian is a woman who has definite values, unrealized dreams and wants to change, yet has been playing it safe most of her life. Will she have the gumption to take a leap of faith?
Anybody have any idea who Jason is yet, or what role Haldir will play in all of this? Clues (or blatant give-aways) coming up..
THE TALE OF MARIAN
Chapter 8: The Lord of Methentaurond
3 September
Yesterday after Lindir disappeared - how can anyone walk so silently,
so quickly? - I quickly gathered the rest of my things and put Bruno
back on his leash. He had whined after Lindir, but had stayed with
me.
We soon caught up with Adam's parents. They had not been as
disoriented as I had, so they knew their bearings better than I. My
explanation that I had gotten lost, and that the trail ahead died out
in some very rough terrain, seemed to satisfy them. They had been
planning to head back that day anyway, so had been pleased enough to
turn around. Interestingly enough, Adam didn't mention seeing Lindir
to them at all. He kept giving me an "it's our secret" look whenever
I made eye contact with him.
By the time we made camp, the clouds had come in again to obscure the
sunlight filtering between the trees, lending a flat, dim cast to our
surroundings, and an early nightfall. After not having done so when I
was with the "elves"(!), I again found a nice hollowed out tree to
sling my hammock in.
I found myself staring dully into our campfire more than once,
absently scratching Bruno behind the ears and missing bits of
conversation directed toward me by Adam or his parents. The overcast
sky, obscuring the stars, did nothing to improve my unhappy mood.
Somewhat chilled and deciding I was lousy company, I retired to my
sleeping bag early.
Depressed. I had been depressed ever since Lindir had left us in
front of the pool. I was aggravated with myself because,
inexplicably, I felt guilty.
Why should I feel guilty? I had been kept guessing for days, been
told a pack of nonsense that no stable, sane person would have given
two minutes to listen to. Yet, I had stayed and listened, like a
fool. I had even begun to feel some sort of bond, some understanding,
develop between myself and those three clearly loony but intriguingly
wise-seeming people. So why did I feel guilty for leaving? Why did I
feel that I was missing an opportunity, left something important
undone by rejecting them? Was it only because Lindir had left things
unsaid that I still wanted to know, that they had seemed to sincerely
open up to me only because they needed my help, and I had turned my
back on them?
I pulled out Jason's ring from beneath my T-shirt, running my fingers
over its intricate patterns in the dark, inside my sleeping bag.
Remembering Orodren's reaction to finding it on the ground, I wondered
if Lindir had held Jason's ring just to keep me from leaving, or if it
had it held a deeper meaning for them? And if so, why?
Who would Orodren sing to tonight, with Elbereth hidden from view?
Would he sing to Nienna, lamenting the damage done to Arda, and pray
for its repair? Or would he sing to Manwe, sing for a ship to carry
them away to Valinor?
How had these people become so entrenched in, so sure of this strange
way of looking at themselves and the world?
I closed my eyes, but all I could see before me was Lindir's sculpted
face, pale and luminous, and his deep, blue eyes, something like
Jason's, but different; ageless, steady eyes, full of wisdom and
secrets. Secrets I had but to ask to be shown.
For the hundredth time I wished Kevin were here with me. Kevin would
have given me perspective, a hold on the solid and the real. I needed
him.
Lindir's Gift of Death was no "gift!"
He's GONE, I reminded myself sternly. I had good judgement; I needed
to rely on myself, do what I wanted.
But what was it that I wanted? Did I really want to go home and plead
for my job back, where things would go on as they always had, and
continue to beat my head against the wall? Did I want to go back and
start my own office, to eek out a living doing a green building here
and there if I could find a client who was interested enough to do
something different, but never make a real difference?
Weren't all of the buildings I had ever designed simply meant to
enrich the lives of the people who used them, to give meaning and
comfort, importance, even inspiration, to the smallest and greatest of
what people did every day? Hadn't I always wanted to do this and make
them fit into the outdoors, benefit and be at one with the environment
around them, instead of damaging it?
Lindir had alluded that the "gift" they wanted to give me would help
the earth somehow. Wasn't that what I had always wanted to
accomplish? What if their gift could help me do that? What if this
was what I needed to truly change? I had been playing it safe for
years, not making waves. Ripples, but not waves. Look where that had
gotten me.
And weren't they strange, Lindir and Orodren and Gladrel. Strangely
beautiful, and enchanting. They blended with the outdoors like they
were truly part of it, at one with it. And that pure, magical aura
that surrounded them, and their eyes! I couldn't
make sense of them.
Don't be ridiculous, I told myself. I was letting their fantasies,
their obsessions, take over. They were just good manipulators, like
any other cult. I was letting them confuse me.
A light danced across my closed eyelids and I opened them, pushing
these thoughts to the back of my mind. Adam peeked his head into the
tree. He whispered, did I mind if he asked me something pretty
personal? I answered of course I didn't mind, and to come in. He
ducked through the opening and settled himself next to Bruno, his
flashlight making mysterious shadows on the wavy burned-smooth insides
of the tree.
It was great that I was here, he said, but why hadn't I stayed with
the elves? He sure would have if he had been given the chance!
I thought back, startled, to what Lindir had said to Adam; he had
never mentioned being an elf, and I certainly hadn't put that idea
into Adam's head.
I asked him, carefully, why he thought Lindir had been an elf.
Just because he was one, Adam said. Couldn't I tell he was?
Adam, they probably had plastic surgery to make their ears look
pointed, I explained gently, trying to make people think they were
elves. No, they were just a bunch of mixed up people.
They were not! Adam pouted, a hurt look on his face. It wasn't just
their ears - did I think he was a baby, that it was just the ears?
Sitting up in anticipation, I asked him what was it then that made him
think they were elves?
He didn't THINK they were, he said in exasperation, he just KNEW they
were. I could see he was getting frustrated trying to explain. It
wasn't one thing, he said slowly, it was just, well, everything. He
could feel it. He knew his parents wouldn't understand. Most grown-
ups wouldn't believe him. But he thought that I could feel it too.
After all, I was with them.
I was baffled - I didn't know what to say.
Bruno whimpered as Adam stood up in discouragement and turned to
leave. They need you, he said with tears in his voice that I couldn't
see, or they wouldn't have told you - you have to go back! And he
stomped off in the dark.
This morning when I got up I still hadn't made up my mind. After
breakfast I still hadn't made up my mind. And as we packed, well. .
. . .
I took a few steps down the hill behind Adam, who turned and looked at
me with a disappointed frown on his face.
I took a few more steps, feeling worse with every one. Bruno kept
looking behind him, dragging on the leash, then looking up at me.
I stared into his big, brown bear eyes. Did I really want to spend
the rest of my life sitting on the fence? I was 45 - if I didn't make
a change now, I might never do it. I stomped in frustration and
glared at Bruno. My head was telling me it was impossible, elves
didn't exist. My heart was telling me otherwise.
I paused, falling behind. Adam turned around and stopped when he saw
me, hope washing over his features. I dropped Bruno's leash and
waited. He trotted a few paces back up toward the trail, turned to
look at me, and whined. That did it. I threw up my hands. Here I
was, a grown woman, letting an eleven-year-old and a big dumb dog tell
me what to do. Boys and dogs. Boys and dogs and elves. It was the
only thing that made sense. Damn.
I've changed my mind, I told Adam's parents. I'm going back. When
they asked me why in surprise, I looked at Adam, smiled, and said that
I had unfinished business. A gigantic smile broke across his face,
and he ran and hugged me. We said our goodbyes, and I took off back
up the hill, Bruno practically dragging me by his leash, so I let him
loose. Go, run boy, I said, find them! I couldn't stop grinning.
Nothing had felt this good, this free, in years!
There was only one thing that still gave me pause - would I see Jason
again? I couldn't bear the thought of losing my best friend. Yes, I
promised myself, no matter what else happened, I would see Jason
again, and nothing could stop me. My mind at ease, except for a tiny
nagging that I chose to ignore, I plodded on up the hill.
* * * * *
It was dark by the time we reached the Linluin again, but the clouds
had been blown away by the wind that now sighed through the trees.
The stars were out, and a three-quarters moon was high in the sky,
beaming down through the swaying branches, reflections shimmering in
the water. Dimly, I could just see enough to make my way to the edge
of the rocks. Movement was all around me: The trees, the ferns, the
water danced in the wind. The needles carpeting the forest floor
swirled up and around me, suffusing the air with the cool, clean scent
of the redwoods. A magic moment, I thought, when anything could
happen.
I called out for Gladrel, looking up to where the flet would be in the
darkness, but there was no answer. Lindir! Orodren! I called out,
cupping my hands around my mouth to cut off the wind, and waited a few
seconds. Nothing.
I dropped my pack and worked my way up to where our camp had been,
stepping from one patch of moonlight to the next, Bruno beside me.
Nothing remained to show that we had ever been there, at least nothing
that I could see in the dim moonlight.
Lindir, it's Marian! I called out, the wind muffling my voice and
throwing my hair into my eyes.
Where were they? If they had left, how would I ever find them? If
they did not want to be found, I could search for them and never catch
sight of them.
I groped my way back to the pool, praying that a branch wouldn't break
off and hit me, and stripped down to my underwear and tank top,
shivering in the cold wind. If they were here but not answering, I
knew how to get their attention.
As I dove into the cool water, the last bit of cynicism melted from my
heart like frost melting from a window in the morning sun. Surfacing
and swimming to the far side of the pool, I floated on my back and
gazed joyously at the stars shining brightly through the swaying
branches.
Lindir, I believe you! I yelled to the night sky with all of my
might.
Something crashed through the brush behind me and I whipped around,
treading water, but I could see nothing. Probably a deer, I thought,
or Bruno. But wasn't Bruno on the other side of the pool? I turned
back around in the water to look for him up on the rocks. What I saw
sent an intense physical jolt completely through my body, settling
firmly between my legs, and I gasped. Standing above me on the
outcropping hanging over the pond was the most magnificent male I had
ever seen, or dared to imagine. Never - NEVER - had I experienced
such a powerful, instant physical reaction to any man.
It wasn't that his features were classically perfect - they weren't,
exactly, but I found them immensely appealing. It wasn't that he had
pointed ears, or that his skin was as lustrous as the moon in the
night sky, or that he exuded pure sensuality from every pore. It was
not only his long, thick hair shining silver in the moonlight, the
wind carrying it into the air in tendrils behind him, or his long,
rich robes, pushed against his body by the wind, silhouetting his
tall, muscular frame, his cloak streaming behind him. It was more.
The supreme confidence with which he carried himself, bordering on
haughtiness, the aura of absolute command that he radiated, the sheer
power of his penetrating gaze made me feel that my innermost thoughts
were as transparent as gauze to him if he chose to make them so. He
had the same ancient, wise, deep eyes as Lindir, only more so. But
this male's eyes were cold - as cold and hard as granite.
He reminded me faintly of someone, though I couldn't think who.
Staring at him open-mouthed, unable to break away from his steady,
piercing gaze as though he held my own eyes there by his will alone, I
reminded myself to breathe, and attempted to regain my composure
before he read my reaction. A slight, unreadable change in his
features told me I had not succeeded.
If there was any small shred of doubt in my mind about the existence
of elves, it disappeared in that moment. This male was either one of
the Valar, or he was without doubt the Lord of Methentaurond -
Lindir's Lord - to whom I was to answer to, the elf-lord who would
judge me for bathing in the Linluin. That very Linluin which I
happened to be neck-deep in at that very moment. Again.
Silently and with exquisite, fluid grace this vision drew a long arrow
from the quiver on his back and sighted his bow directly on me.
"Back out of the water, away from me. Slowly." His voice brooked no
disobedience, its clear, rich, demanding tone and cadence sending
shivers up and down my spine, in addition to the shivers I was
experiencing from the wind and not least from the extremely sharp-
looking arrow pointed at my face.
I glided over to the bank until I could put my feet on the bottom,
then slowly rose out of the water and stepped back toward the shore,
my head held high, my eyes never leaving his. I was alternately scared
to death and strangely excited. But, I would not show weakness or
timidity at my lack of clothing, I commanded myself. I would not
shiver with the cold. It wasn't exactly Botticelli's Venus on a Clam
Shell, but it was the best I could muster.
"Halt," he commanded tersely, and I stopped with my back near the
bushes overhanging the bank, the water still lapping above my knees.
He quickly and mercilessly assessed me from the top of my head to the
water's surface, his steely expression never changing from one of
concentrated aloofness and mild derision. My face grew hot, my
confidence shattering like the shards of a breaking tempered glass
window crashing to the floor. I was thankful for the darkness and that
my skin didn't glow to reveal my insecurity over my features. I was
certain that he would find me lacking. He certainly lacked Jason's
gift of flattery, which I missed most terribly at that moment.
"Do. . . not. . . move," he ordered as quietly as the wind
allowed, and drew back even more on the bowstring.
What did he expect me to do? Stand there like a target with a red
circle on my chest and wait until he felt like shooting me? Lindir
hadn't shot me, so why was this elf going to do so now? I looked
around, hoping for a familiar face, but saw no one else around us in
the dark.
And why the HELL couldn't I stop thinking about sex when I looked at
him: Mind-numbing, burning, all-consuming sex. Was I crazy? I was
about to die!
As usual, my streak of stubborn sarcasm surfaced at just the wrong
time: I put up my hands in surrender and asked him if his aim was so
bad that he needed a stationary target.
He did not answer me except to curl his lip and tilt his head slightly
over his fingers on the bowstring, watchful and intent. I tensed,
ready to throw myself to one side.
Before I could react, he had released his arrow. I only had a split-
second chance to shift slightly to my right, for which I was rewarded
with the arrow tip slicing my shoulder. Instantaneously, a barrage of
arrows whistled through the air toward me from all sides, and I heard
something screech in the bushes behind me and fall into the water -
something heavy.
Jumping around in alarm with my hand on my bleeding shoulder, I
watched in horror as Orodren and another elf entered the water near me
and pulled a repulsive, rotten-smelling, gangly-looking shadow of a
creature out of the water and hauled it off.
Twisting back in panic and confusion, I saw that the tall elf had
discarded his robes and dived into the water, swimming toward me with
expert, silent strokes. Belatedly, I realized that he had been aiming
behind me, not at me, and if I had held still as he had told me to I
would not now be holding an injured arm.
"Eru curse its foul stench in these waters!" he exclaimed as he
reached me. Silently placing both palms down on the water's surface,
I watched in wonder as the water radiated in tiny, glittering ripples
from his hands and spread across the pool, then was still but for the
wind that buffeted it now and again.
What was that thing, and what did you just do, I asked him, swaying
slightly as he stood up and steadied me, the feeling of his warm hand
on my cold skin sending a wave of sensation through my arm. I was
acutely aware of his condition, bare-chested and dressed only in
dripping-wet tights from the waist down. Long, powerful legs, tight,
muscled abdomen, broad chest, dark eyes - he looked even better half-
naked and glistening wet in the moonlight. I wondered what color his
eyes were, for I couldn't tell in the dark.
"I ordered you not to move," he reprimanded me, clearly annoyed, as he
drew me toward the shore.
"I thought you were going to shoot me, and. . . . .Oh!" I growled,
suddenly getting it and trying unsuccessfully to pull free of his
strong grip on my arm, "You used me as bait!"
"You had already made yourself bait," he replied curtly, "yelling and
crashing about in the night - we simply waited for the creature to
take it. It was fortunate for you that we were nearby."
What. . . was. . . it, I repeated. I was getting tired of being
evaded; he was almost as bad as Lindir.
"What is left of goblins in this age."
"A creature of darkness," he added when it was apparent that I didn't
understand. Oh, well, I thought, that explained everything. . . .
He kept his hold on my arm, neither roughly nor gently but rather
possessively, which thrilled me again, and directed me to a seat on
the rocks. Kneeling next to me, he began to examine my injury.
Orodren reappeared near us in the darkness. Stopping in front of the
tall elf and placing his hand on his heart, he bowed his head slightly
and announced that the creature had been disposed of, calling the elf
"my Lord Haldir," with the greatest deference, and offering his robes
and my clothing brought from the other side of the pool. I had been
right.
The Lord of Methentaurond set the clothing down and directed him to
guard against any more unwelcome visitors.
You were here all along, weren't you, I accused Orodren. He merely
raised his eyebrows and grinned at me over his shoulder as he
sauntered off.
By this time I was shivering in the wind. The Elf Lord returned to
his examination of my arm, seemingly unaffected by the cold. "Hold
still this time," he ordered, and glared at me like I was a
disobedient child.
He took water cupped in his hands from the pool and rinsed the blood
from my arm. Then, pressing his hand firmly against the gash in my
shoulder, he leaned forward in intense concentration until his
forehead almost touched my cheek, closed his eyes and chanted
something under his breath in what I assumed by this time was Elvish.
My heart pounded from his nearness. I breathed in the wonderful scent
of his hair and tried to keep my breathing even. Then I felt an odd
but pleasant warmth spread through my shoulder. When he raised his
head and removed his hand, the gash has completely disappeared.
I looked into his dark and glittering eyes in bewilderment. If you
can do this, I asked in awe, why did Lindir say that your people were
becoming sick? Can't you do the same for them?
"It is a sickness of the Earth that affects both men and elves." His
eyes flashed with both anger and sorrow. "It cannot be cured by such
methods. Arda itself must first be healed."
He stood, drawing me up with him into a shaft of moonlight, but said
no more. Then he reached out and curiously examined the small diamond
studs that I wore in my ears.
"What is the significance of these stones?" he demanded.
Significance, I repeated, trying to understand what he was asking. I
told him that I supposed there was no significance except that I liked
them. They were just. . . decoration. The silent look he gave me
told me just exactly what he thought of the wearing of gems that had
no significance.
Next, his eyes dropped to Jason's ring on its chain around my neck.
He took it in his hand briefly. Then he raised my hands in his own
and touched the thin, worn gold band on my left ring finger, raising
his eyes to mine in silent interrogation.
I explained that it was a wedding band.
"You are bound to another?" he asked me sharply.
Not any more, I replied, not understanding why he would react so
strongly. I confided in a low voice that my husband was dead, that I
didn't really know why I wore it anymore. I looked down. Although it
was dark, I didn't want to risk him seeing the loneliness in my eyes.
It was none of his business.
"I am sorry for your loss," he said, with the first hint of gentleness
that he had shown. Then, he picked up his cloak and draped it over my
shoulders.
I looked up at him in surprise. Thank you, I whispered.
"So," he said after we both had replaced the rest of our clothing,
stepping away from me and assessing me icily once more. Whatever
gentleness I had imagined in his voice had disappeared instantly,
replaced by a tone of scornful resignation, "This is what my brother
gives me to work with."
I changed my mind: He wasn't just haughty, he was arrogant: Elf or
not, another arrogant, domineering blond with a superiority complex.
I contemplated his long, luxurious, silvery hair again, still teased
about by the wind and the moon. He probably stood in front of a
mirror and stared at himself for hours. I was an idiot for being
attracted to him. And he had noticed. That had probably fed his
gigantic ego just fine.
"You have violated the sanctity of the Linluin not once, but twice.
The first time you did not know of our law, so I am somewhat able to
set your trespass aside. However," and here he paused, pacing in
front of me, "this time you were fully aware of our ban and yet
knowingly disobeyed. I cannot allow such effrontery to go
unpunished."
He took a breath to continue, giving me an opportunity to argue. If
you had answered when I called, I impatiently accused him, I would
have had no reason to. . .
"Be still, mortal!" he interrupted, stopping his pacing to stare down
at me with his chin raised and his nostrils flaring. "I am Lord here,
and must uphold the laws. Your feeble excuses are unimportant."
How obnoxious and unreasonable could one Elf be, I asked myself,
starting to boil with the unfairness of it all. Yes, I was powerfully
attracted to him, but that didn't mean I had to like him. No, I
resolved, I did not like him one bit. He was insufferable.
This is America, I reminded him defiantly, raising my chin to mimic
him, and you are not MY Lord. We choose our leaders, not the other
way around.
"And have you chosen well?" he asked scathingly.
On occasion, I replied honestly. I supposed that it depended on one's
point of view, I added.
He seemed to consider my answer quite seriously for a moment. "I was
chosen once also, long ago.
You will remember that you are not in America now. You are in Tar-
caranorn, greatest and oldest of forests, beloved of Yavanna above all
others that yet remain in Arda." I noticed that he emphasized the
words "that yet remain" quite accusingly. "If you wish to enter
Methentaurond, you must respect my authority without question."
I wasn't willing to throw myself down and pledge my undying obedience
just yet. But, this was what I had wanted, after all. It seemed that
I would have to at least bend a little. So, I countered stubbornly
that I would consider accepting his authority, if it was wielded
wisely, but he must earn my respect.
"You are not upon this earth long enough to gain the wisdom to temper
the knowledge you acquire and thirst for. You grow old in some ways,
but remain naïve in others, and you are ever weak to the false
promises of Morgoth. You may not presume to judge me, but only obey."
He didn't give me time to answer, after having insulted both me
personally and all of humanity about eight different ways in the
course of two sentences, but continued. "I will delay your discipline
as this is not an opportune moment, but be assured I will not forget."
Then he whistled softly, and Orodren and several other elves appeared
out of the trees, darker shadows in the pale night. I looked up to
the sky, realizing that it was almost dawn.
"You have been chosen also, Marian," he said with what I thought was
a measure of disapproval. You will come with us to Methentaurond," he
commanded, his voice becoming deeper and resonant with dignity, pride,
and, I thought, perhaps a small measure of grief. "Know that you are
favored far above any of your kin, as no mortal has ever been allowed
to pass its gate, or even to guess at its very existence. It is our
last sanctuary in Arda. To pass within you must be bound with your
life to secrecy, and to other obligations which we will not reveal to
you as of yet. Will you accept this?"
So this was it, I thought, there would be no turning back either way
once I answered him. Taking a deep breath and meeting those
penetrating eyes riveted on my own, I said proudly that I would be
honored to accept, and by my actions I would change his dim view of my
kind if it was the last thing I did.
"Very well," he finally concluded after a long, silent appraisal
during which I thought I was barely passing some unspoken test. "You
will walk blindfolded until we reach the gates. We will lead you
well."
What!? I spat at him in disbelief. After I had just put my life on a
platter for him without even knowing why, he still did not trust me?
"These are dark times for Elves, Marian," he stated just as darkly.
"We must be vigilant always, and I will make no exception for you.
Also," he said, and raised an eyebrow, "We do not freely give our
trust - you must earn it."
Touché, I mumbled, and allowed my eyes to be covered.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews. If you don't like something, please let me know so I can improve. I don't consider constructive criticism to be "flames."
I must admit I find this "journal" format to be very constraining and probably won't try it again. It doesn't let me show how the other characters see things except through their words or actions. Hopefully more of Jason's point of view later in the story will help.
Marian is a woman who has definite values, unrealized dreams and wants to change, yet has been playing it safe most of her life. Will she have the gumption to take a leap of faith?
Anybody have any idea who Jason is yet, or what role Haldir will play in all of this? Clues (or blatant give-aways) coming up..
THE TALE OF MARIAN
Chapter 8: The Lord of Methentaurond
3 September
Yesterday after Lindir disappeared - how can anyone walk so silently,
so quickly? - I quickly gathered the rest of my things and put Bruno
back on his leash. He had whined after Lindir, but had stayed with
me.
We soon caught up with Adam's parents. They had not been as
disoriented as I had, so they knew their bearings better than I. My
explanation that I had gotten lost, and that the trail ahead died out
in some very rough terrain, seemed to satisfy them. They had been
planning to head back that day anyway, so had been pleased enough to
turn around. Interestingly enough, Adam didn't mention seeing Lindir
to them at all. He kept giving me an "it's our secret" look whenever
I made eye contact with him.
By the time we made camp, the clouds had come in again to obscure the
sunlight filtering between the trees, lending a flat, dim cast to our
surroundings, and an early nightfall. After not having done so when I
was with the "elves"(!), I again found a nice hollowed out tree to
sling my hammock in.
I found myself staring dully into our campfire more than once,
absently scratching Bruno behind the ears and missing bits of
conversation directed toward me by Adam or his parents. The overcast
sky, obscuring the stars, did nothing to improve my unhappy mood.
Somewhat chilled and deciding I was lousy company, I retired to my
sleeping bag early.
Depressed. I had been depressed ever since Lindir had left us in
front of the pool. I was aggravated with myself because,
inexplicably, I felt guilty.
Why should I feel guilty? I had been kept guessing for days, been
told a pack of nonsense that no stable, sane person would have given
two minutes to listen to. Yet, I had stayed and listened, like a
fool. I had even begun to feel some sort of bond, some understanding,
develop between myself and those three clearly loony but intriguingly
wise-seeming people. So why did I feel guilty for leaving? Why did I
feel that I was missing an opportunity, left something important
undone by rejecting them? Was it only because Lindir had left things
unsaid that I still wanted to know, that they had seemed to sincerely
open up to me only because they needed my help, and I had turned my
back on them?
I pulled out Jason's ring from beneath my T-shirt, running my fingers
over its intricate patterns in the dark, inside my sleeping bag.
Remembering Orodren's reaction to finding it on the ground, I wondered
if Lindir had held Jason's ring just to keep me from leaving, or if it
had it held a deeper meaning for them? And if so, why?
Who would Orodren sing to tonight, with Elbereth hidden from view?
Would he sing to Nienna, lamenting the damage done to Arda, and pray
for its repair? Or would he sing to Manwe, sing for a ship to carry
them away to Valinor?
How had these people become so entrenched in, so sure of this strange
way of looking at themselves and the world?
I closed my eyes, but all I could see before me was Lindir's sculpted
face, pale and luminous, and his deep, blue eyes, something like
Jason's, but different; ageless, steady eyes, full of wisdom and
secrets. Secrets I had but to ask to be shown.
For the hundredth time I wished Kevin were here with me. Kevin would
have given me perspective, a hold on the solid and the real. I needed
him.
Lindir's Gift of Death was no "gift!"
He's GONE, I reminded myself sternly. I had good judgement; I needed
to rely on myself, do what I wanted.
But what was it that I wanted? Did I really want to go home and plead
for my job back, where things would go on as they always had, and
continue to beat my head against the wall? Did I want to go back and
start my own office, to eek out a living doing a green building here
and there if I could find a client who was interested enough to do
something different, but never make a real difference?
Weren't all of the buildings I had ever designed simply meant to
enrich the lives of the people who used them, to give meaning and
comfort, importance, even inspiration, to the smallest and greatest of
what people did every day? Hadn't I always wanted to do this and make
them fit into the outdoors, benefit and be at one with the environment
around them, instead of damaging it?
Lindir had alluded that the "gift" they wanted to give me would help
the earth somehow. Wasn't that what I had always wanted to
accomplish? What if their gift could help me do that? What if this
was what I needed to truly change? I had been playing it safe for
years, not making waves. Ripples, but not waves. Look where that had
gotten me.
And weren't they strange, Lindir and Orodren and Gladrel. Strangely
beautiful, and enchanting. They blended with the outdoors like they
were truly part of it, at one with it. And that pure, magical aura
that surrounded them, and their eyes! I couldn't
make sense of them.
Don't be ridiculous, I told myself. I was letting their fantasies,
their obsessions, take over. They were just good manipulators, like
any other cult. I was letting them confuse me.
A light danced across my closed eyelids and I opened them, pushing
these thoughts to the back of my mind. Adam peeked his head into the
tree. He whispered, did I mind if he asked me something pretty
personal? I answered of course I didn't mind, and to come in. He
ducked through the opening and settled himself next to Bruno, his
flashlight making mysterious shadows on the wavy burned-smooth insides
of the tree.
It was great that I was here, he said, but why hadn't I stayed with
the elves? He sure would have if he had been given the chance!
I thought back, startled, to what Lindir had said to Adam; he had
never mentioned being an elf, and I certainly hadn't put that idea
into Adam's head.
I asked him, carefully, why he thought Lindir had been an elf.
Just because he was one, Adam said. Couldn't I tell he was?
Adam, they probably had plastic surgery to make their ears look
pointed, I explained gently, trying to make people think they were
elves. No, they were just a bunch of mixed up people.
They were not! Adam pouted, a hurt look on his face. It wasn't just
their ears - did I think he was a baby, that it was just the ears?
Sitting up in anticipation, I asked him what was it then that made him
think they were elves?
He didn't THINK they were, he said in exasperation, he just KNEW they
were. I could see he was getting frustrated trying to explain. It
wasn't one thing, he said slowly, it was just, well, everything. He
could feel it. He knew his parents wouldn't understand. Most grown-
ups wouldn't believe him. But he thought that I could feel it too.
After all, I was with them.
I was baffled - I didn't know what to say.
Bruno whimpered as Adam stood up in discouragement and turned to
leave. They need you, he said with tears in his voice that I couldn't
see, or they wouldn't have told you - you have to go back! And he
stomped off in the dark.
This morning when I got up I still hadn't made up my mind. After
breakfast I still hadn't made up my mind. And as we packed, well. .
. . .
I took a few steps down the hill behind Adam, who turned and looked at
me with a disappointed frown on his face.
I took a few more steps, feeling worse with every one. Bruno kept
looking behind him, dragging on the leash, then looking up at me.
I stared into his big, brown bear eyes. Did I really want to spend
the rest of my life sitting on the fence? I was 45 - if I didn't make
a change now, I might never do it. I stomped in frustration and
glared at Bruno. My head was telling me it was impossible, elves
didn't exist. My heart was telling me otherwise.
I paused, falling behind. Adam turned around and stopped when he saw
me, hope washing over his features. I dropped Bruno's leash and
waited. He trotted a few paces back up toward the trail, turned to
look at me, and whined. That did it. I threw up my hands. Here I
was, a grown woman, letting an eleven-year-old and a big dumb dog tell
me what to do. Boys and dogs. Boys and dogs and elves. It was the
only thing that made sense. Damn.
I've changed my mind, I told Adam's parents. I'm going back. When
they asked me why in surprise, I looked at Adam, smiled, and said that
I had unfinished business. A gigantic smile broke across his face,
and he ran and hugged me. We said our goodbyes, and I took off back
up the hill, Bruno practically dragging me by his leash, so I let him
loose. Go, run boy, I said, find them! I couldn't stop grinning.
Nothing had felt this good, this free, in years!
There was only one thing that still gave me pause - would I see Jason
again? I couldn't bear the thought of losing my best friend. Yes, I
promised myself, no matter what else happened, I would see Jason
again, and nothing could stop me. My mind at ease, except for a tiny
nagging that I chose to ignore, I plodded on up the hill.
* * * * *
It was dark by the time we reached the Linluin again, but the clouds
had been blown away by the wind that now sighed through the trees.
The stars were out, and a three-quarters moon was high in the sky,
beaming down through the swaying branches, reflections shimmering in
the water. Dimly, I could just see enough to make my way to the edge
of the rocks. Movement was all around me: The trees, the ferns, the
water danced in the wind. The needles carpeting the forest floor
swirled up and around me, suffusing the air with the cool, clean scent
of the redwoods. A magic moment, I thought, when anything could
happen.
I called out for Gladrel, looking up to where the flet would be in the
darkness, but there was no answer. Lindir! Orodren! I called out,
cupping my hands around my mouth to cut off the wind, and waited a few
seconds. Nothing.
I dropped my pack and worked my way up to where our camp had been,
stepping from one patch of moonlight to the next, Bruno beside me.
Nothing remained to show that we had ever been there, at least nothing
that I could see in the dim moonlight.
Lindir, it's Marian! I called out, the wind muffling my voice and
throwing my hair into my eyes.
Where were they? If they had left, how would I ever find them? If
they did not want to be found, I could search for them and never catch
sight of them.
I groped my way back to the pool, praying that a branch wouldn't break
off and hit me, and stripped down to my underwear and tank top,
shivering in the cold wind. If they were here but not answering, I
knew how to get their attention.
As I dove into the cool water, the last bit of cynicism melted from my
heart like frost melting from a window in the morning sun. Surfacing
and swimming to the far side of the pool, I floated on my back and
gazed joyously at the stars shining brightly through the swaying
branches.
Lindir, I believe you! I yelled to the night sky with all of my
might.
Something crashed through the brush behind me and I whipped around,
treading water, but I could see nothing. Probably a deer, I thought,
or Bruno. But wasn't Bruno on the other side of the pool? I turned
back around in the water to look for him up on the rocks. What I saw
sent an intense physical jolt completely through my body, settling
firmly between my legs, and I gasped. Standing above me on the
outcropping hanging over the pond was the most magnificent male I had
ever seen, or dared to imagine. Never - NEVER - had I experienced
such a powerful, instant physical reaction to any man.
It wasn't that his features were classically perfect - they weren't,
exactly, but I found them immensely appealing. It wasn't that he had
pointed ears, or that his skin was as lustrous as the moon in the
night sky, or that he exuded pure sensuality from every pore. It was
not only his long, thick hair shining silver in the moonlight, the
wind carrying it into the air in tendrils behind him, or his long,
rich robes, pushed against his body by the wind, silhouetting his
tall, muscular frame, his cloak streaming behind him. It was more.
The supreme confidence with which he carried himself, bordering on
haughtiness, the aura of absolute command that he radiated, the sheer
power of his penetrating gaze made me feel that my innermost thoughts
were as transparent as gauze to him if he chose to make them so. He
had the same ancient, wise, deep eyes as Lindir, only more so. But
this male's eyes were cold - as cold and hard as granite.
He reminded me faintly of someone, though I couldn't think who.
Staring at him open-mouthed, unable to break away from his steady,
piercing gaze as though he held my own eyes there by his will alone, I
reminded myself to breathe, and attempted to regain my composure
before he read my reaction. A slight, unreadable change in his
features told me I had not succeeded.
If there was any small shred of doubt in my mind about the existence
of elves, it disappeared in that moment. This male was either one of
the Valar, or he was without doubt the Lord of Methentaurond -
Lindir's Lord - to whom I was to answer to, the elf-lord who would
judge me for bathing in the Linluin. That very Linluin which I
happened to be neck-deep in at that very moment. Again.
Silently and with exquisite, fluid grace this vision drew a long arrow
from the quiver on his back and sighted his bow directly on me.
"Back out of the water, away from me. Slowly." His voice brooked no
disobedience, its clear, rich, demanding tone and cadence sending
shivers up and down my spine, in addition to the shivers I was
experiencing from the wind and not least from the extremely sharp-
looking arrow pointed at my face.
I glided over to the bank until I could put my feet on the bottom,
then slowly rose out of the water and stepped back toward the shore,
my head held high, my eyes never leaving his. I was alternately scared
to death and strangely excited. But, I would not show weakness or
timidity at my lack of clothing, I commanded myself. I would not
shiver with the cold. It wasn't exactly Botticelli's Venus on a Clam
Shell, but it was the best I could muster.
"Halt," he commanded tersely, and I stopped with my back near the
bushes overhanging the bank, the water still lapping above my knees.
He quickly and mercilessly assessed me from the top of my head to the
water's surface, his steely expression never changing from one of
concentrated aloofness and mild derision. My face grew hot, my
confidence shattering like the shards of a breaking tempered glass
window crashing to the floor. I was thankful for the darkness and that
my skin didn't glow to reveal my insecurity over my features. I was
certain that he would find me lacking. He certainly lacked Jason's
gift of flattery, which I missed most terribly at that moment.
"Do. . . not. . . move," he ordered as quietly as the wind
allowed, and drew back even more on the bowstring.
What did he expect me to do? Stand there like a target with a red
circle on my chest and wait until he felt like shooting me? Lindir
hadn't shot me, so why was this elf going to do so now? I looked
around, hoping for a familiar face, but saw no one else around us in
the dark.
And why the HELL couldn't I stop thinking about sex when I looked at
him: Mind-numbing, burning, all-consuming sex. Was I crazy? I was
about to die!
As usual, my streak of stubborn sarcasm surfaced at just the wrong
time: I put up my hands in surrender and asked him if his aim was so
bad that he needed a stationary target.
He did not answer me except to curl his lip and tilt his head slightly
over his fingers on the bowstring, watchful and intent. I tensed,
ready to throw myself to one side.
Before I could react, he had released his arrow. I only had a split-
second chance to shift slightly to my right, for which I was rewarded
with the arrow tip slicing my shoulder. Instantaneously, a barrage of
arrows whistled through the air toward me from all sides, and I heard
something screech in the bushes behind me and fall into the water -
something heavy.
Jumping around in alarm with my hand on my bleeding shoulder, I
watched in horror as Orodren and another elf entered the water near me
and pulled a repulsive, rotten-smelling, gangly-looking shadow of a
creature out of the water and hauled it off.
Twisting back in panic and confusion, I saw that the tall elf had
discarded his robes and dived into the water, swimming toward me with
expert, silent strokes. Belatedly, I realized that he had been aiming
behind me, not at me, and if I had held still as he had told me to I
would not now be holding an injured arm.
"Eru curse its foul stench in these waters!" he exclaimed as he
reached me. Silently placing both palms down on the water's surface,
I watched in wonder as the water radiated in tiny, glittering ripples
from his hands and spread across the pool, then was still but for the
wind that buffeted it now and again.
What was that thing, and what did you just do, I asked him, swaying
slightly as he stood up and steadied me, the feeling of his warm hand
on my cold skin sending a wave of sensation through my arm. I was
acutely aware of his condition, bare-chested and dressed only in
dripping-wet tights from the waist down. Long, powerful legs, tight,
muscled abdomen, broad chest, dark eyes - he looked even better half-
naked and glistening wet in the moonlight. I wondered what color his
eyes were, for I couldn't tell in the dark.
"I ordered you not to move," he reprimanded me, clearly annoyed, as he
drew me toward the shore.
"I thought you were going to shoot me, and. . . . .Oh!" I growled,
suddenly getting it and trying unsuccessfully to pull free of his
strong grip on my arm, "You used me as bait!"
"You had already made yourself bait," he replied curtly, "yelling and
crashing about in the night - we simply waited for the creature to
take it. It was fortunate for you that we were nearby."
What. . . was. . . it, I repeated. I was getting tired of being
evaded; he was almost as bad as Lindir.
"What is left of goblins in this age."
"A creature of darkness," he added when it was apparent that I didn't
understand. Oh, well, I thought, that explained everything. . . .
He kept his hold on my arm, neither roughly nor gently but rather
possessively, which thrilled me again, and directed me to a seat on
the rocks. Kneeling next to me, he began to examine my injury.
Orodren reappeared near us in the darkness. Stopping in front of the
tall elf and placing his hand on his heart, he bowed his head slightly
and announced that the creature had been disposed of, calling the elf
"my Lord Haldir," with the greatest deference, and offering his robes
and my clothing brought from the other side of the pool. I had been
right.
The Lord of Methentaurond set the clothing down and directed him to
guard against any more unwelcome visitors.
You were here all along, weren't you, I accused Orodren. He merely
raised his eyebrows and grinned at me over his shoulder as he
sauntered off.
By this time I was shivering in the wind. The Elf Lord returned to
his examination of my arm, seemingly unaffected by the cold. "Hold
still this time," he ordered, and glared at me like I was a
disobedient child.
He took water cupped in his hands from the pool and rinsed the blood
from my arm. Then, pressing his hand firmly against the gash in my
shoulder, he leaned forward in intense concentration until his
forehead almost touched my cheek, closed his eyes and chanted
something under his breath in what I assumed by this time was Elvish.
My heart pounded from his nearness. I breathed in the wonderful scent
of his hair and tried to keep my breathing even. Then I felt an odd
but pleasant warmth spread through my shoulder. When he raised his
head and removed his hand, the gash has completely disappeared.
I looked into his dark and glittering eyes in bewilderment. If you
can do this, I asked in awe, why did Lindir say that your people were
becoming sick? Can't you do the same for them?
"It is a sickness of the Earth that affects both men and elves." His
eyes flashed with both anger and sorrow. "It cannot be cured by such
methods. Arda itself must first be healed."
He stood, drawing me up with him into a shaft of moonlight, but said
no more. Then he reached out and curiously examined the small diamond
studs that I wore in my ears.
"What is the significance of these stones?" he demanded.
Significance, I repeated, trying to understand what he was asking. I
told him that I supposed there was no significance except that I liked
them. They were just. . . decoration. The silent look he gave me
told me just exactly what he thought of the wearing of gems that had
no significance.
Next, his eyes dropped to Jason's ring on its chain around my neck.
He took it in his hand briefly. Then he raised my hands in his own
and touched the thin, worn gold band on my left ring finger, raising
his eyes to mine in silent interrogation.
I explained that it was a wedding band.
"You are bound to another?" he asked me sharply.
Not any more, I replied, not understanding why he would react so
strongly. I confided in a low voice that my husband was dead, that I
didn't really know why I wore it anymore. I looked down. Although it
was dark, I didn't want to risk him seeing the loneliness in my eyes.
It was none of his business.
"I am sorry for your loss," he said, with the first hint of gentleness
that he had shown. Then, he picked up his cloak and draped it over my
shoulders.
I looked up at him in surprise. Thank you, I whispered.
"So," he said after we both had replaced the rest of our clothing,
stepping away from me and assessing me icily once more. Whatever
gentleness I had imagined in his voice had disappeared instantly,
replaced by a tone of scornful resignation, "This is what my brother
gives me to work with."
I changed my mind: He wasn't just haughty, he was arrogant: Elf or
not, another arrogant, domineering blond with a superiority complex.
I contemplated his long, luxurious, silvery hair again, still teased
about by the wind and the moon. He probably stood in front of a
mirror and stared at himself for hours. I was an idiot for being
attracted to him. And he had noticed. That had probably fed his
gigantic ego just fine.
"You have violated the sanctity of the Linluin not once, but twice.
The first time you did not know of our law, so I am somewhat able to
set your trespass aside. However," and here he paused, pacing in
front of me, "this time you were fully aware of our ban and yet
knowingly disobeyed. I cannot allow such effrontery to go
unpunished."
He took a breath to continue, giving me an opportunity to argue. If
you had answered when I called, I impatiently accused him, I would
have had no reason to. . .
"Be still, mortal!" he interrupted, stopping his pacing to stare down
at me with his chin raised and his nostrils flaring. "I am Lord here,
and must uphold the laws. Your feeble excuses are unimportant."
How obnoxious and unreasonable could one Elf be, I asked myself,
starting to boil with the unfairness of it all. Yes, I was powerfully
attracted to him, but that didn't mean I had to like him. No, I
resolved, I did not like him one bit. He was insufferable.
This is America, I reminded him defiantly, raising my chin to mimic
him, and you are not MY Lord. We choose our leaders, not the other
way around.
"And have you chosen well?" he asked scathingly.
On occasion, I replied honestly. I supposed that it depended on one's
point of view, I added.
He seemed to consider my answer quite seriously for a moment. "I was
chosen once also, long ago.
You will remember that you are not in America now. You are in Tar-
caranorn, greatest and oldest of forests, beloved of Yavanna above all
others that yet remain in Arda." I noticed that he emphasized the
words "that yet remain" quite accusingly. "If you wish to enter
Methentaurond, you must respect my authority without question."
I wasn't willing to throw myself down and pledge my undying obedience
just yet. But, this was what I had wanted, after all. It seemed that
I would have to at least bend a little. So, I countered stubbornly
that I would consider accepting his authority, if it was wielded
wisely, but he must earn my respect.
"You are not upon this earth long enough to gain the wisdom to temper
the knowledge you acquire and thirst for. You grow old in some ways,
but remain naïve in others, and you are ever weak to the false
promises of Morgoth. You may not presume to judge me, but only obey."
He didn't give me time to answer, after having insulted both me
personally and all of humanity about eight different ways in the
course of two sentences, but continued. "I will delay your discipline
as this is not an opportune moment, but be assured I will not forget."
Then he whistled softly, and Orodren and several other elves appeared
out of the trees, darker shadows in the pale night. I looked up to
the sky, realizing that it was almost dawn.
"You have been chosen also, Marian," he said with what I thought was
a measure of disapproval. You will come with us to Methentaurond," he
commanded, his voice becoming deeper and resonant with dignity, pride,
and, I thought, perhaps a small measure of grief. "Know that you are
favored far above any of your kin, as no mortal has ever been allowed
to pass its gate, or even to guess at its very existence. It is our
last sanctuary in Arda. To pass within you must be bound with your
life to secrecy, and to other obligations which we will not reveal to
you as of yet. Will you accept this?"
So this was it, I thought, there would be no turning back either way
once I answered him. Taking a deep breath and meeting those
penetrating eyes riveted on my own, I said proudly that I would be
honored to accept, and by my actions I would change his dim view of my
kind if it was the last thing I did.
"Very well," he finally concluded after a long, silent appraisal
during which I thought I was barely passing some unspoken test. "You
will walk blindfolded until we reach the gates. We will lead you
well."
What!? I spat at him in disbelief. After I had just put my life on a
platter for him without even knowing why, he still did not trust me?
"These are dark times for Elves, Marian," he stated just as darkly.
"We must be vigilant always, and I will make no exception for you.
Also," he said, and raised an eyebrow, "We do not freely give our
trust - you must earn it."
Touché, I mumbled, and allowed my eyes to be covered.