Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
CHAPTER 10: OF STARS IN SHADOW SHIMMERING*
5 September
This afternoon I situated myself on the balcony from which I received
my first sight of Methentaurond. I have started from the back of this
journal and am attempting to sketch the strange, enchanting and
breathtaking panorama that lies before me.
I have not drawn freehand in years! Yet, I am finding that the skill
is slowly coming back to me, and I am struggling much less than I had
anticipated.
Meanwhile, the two sentries guarding the entrance to these marvelous,
magical halls are unsuccessfully pretending not to look over my
shoulder.
At first I wished for a camera. I am glad now that I do not have such
a seductively easy crutch to entrust a record of this place to. For
that is what I feel compelled to do; I do not want to miss, or forget,
anything. And, I feel an urgent need to learn, to absorb and
understand everything I see the best that I can. Do I fear it will be
lost? Perhaps; I don't know. I wish I was younger, sharper, so I
could notice things and remember better.
I expressed as much to Lindir this morning. My mind could only absorb
a fraction of what he and the others had shown me. I stopped him mid-
day and told him that first I needed time to absorb what I have
already seen, or I would be overwhelmed. Drawing something, I said,
was like meditating on that thing. It forced me to observe well - the
largest patterns, the tiniest details, the changing play of light and
reflection that gives a thing its depth, its life.
It was the same, he said, with music.
Last night we had emerged from the entrance hall into the upper
portion of a great cavern whose roof was delineated by points of light
scattered like constellations of stars. The volume of the space was a
shock; the beauty of the place in the gathering night was staggering.
I could not have imagined anything like it; the very thought that such
a place could exist, above ground or below, was beyond my
comprehension.
Here and there in the growing darkness - for it seemed as much
twilight now within the cavern as without - the forms behind the
impressions and shadows were revealed by the soft, golden glow of
countless lanterns. Before us, achieving what spiritual awe the
Gothic cathedrals only attempted in their own beauty and lightness to
achieve, were vaults that appeared to have grown like spreading tree
roots, drawn together and braided into twisting pillars that reached
for the floor like stalagtites, yet with spreading branches and leaves
as well, from which more lanterns were hung, strewn among them like
fireflies. Rising to meet and intertwine with them like stalagmites
were pillars of what might have been carved wood or stone. In this
light the line between what was built and what was natural was
impossible to define. The effect was that of an underground forest as
tall as the redwoods outside. Cast between the pillars and the cavern
walls were platforms and bridges and dwellings that were the very
embodiment of that which had been carved on the entrance doors.
Looking down, here also were shelves and balconies and terraces
extending from the cavern walls, connecting to the bridges of the tree-
pillars. Beyond the balconies soft lights glowed from openings in the
walls of the cavern itself, suggesting that both small rooms and large
chambers had been carved into the living rock as well.
To the right, a dizzying distance below the balcony on which we stood,
a gentle river whose edges were strung with lights flowed along one
side of the cavern wall, the forest on the other, falling from one
height to the next in a series of small waterfalls, cascading from
shelf to shelf, disappearing in the darkening haze in the distance.
Far below to the left was layered dark form on dark form, of what I
could not tell, except for a feeling of openness.
The cool air was heady with moisture and a clean smell like trees with
an undercurrent of tilled soil- not a dank, musty cave smell at all,
but a fresh, growing, living scent. And there was the murmuring sound
of water falling on stone, lullaby-like, restful and delicate and
pervasive.
An intricately carved great stairway arched around to our right, and
down these flights of steps Lord Haldir silently led me, Bruno's nails
tap-tapping echoes on the marble.
How. . . how are those terrace supported, they are too thin, I
asked, the spans are too long. . . can we look at them now?
"In the morning, when it is light."
The morning, how can you see the morning in here, I asked. Wait, I
begged, hanging over the railing and pointing at a dwelling that
seemed to float between the trees and the side of the cavern, that. .
. that is structurally impossible! How do you do that?
Wait, slow down! Wood can't do that, that can't be wood. What kind
of material is that?
Isn't that's a birdbath? There are BIRDS in here?
Those trees, those columns, redwoods don't grow like that, they don't
DO THAT. Where's my flashlight?
I stopped and searched feverishly through my pack with the hand that
wasn't attached to Bruno's leash.
Lord Haldir stopped me with a firm hand on my arm.
"That would be exceedingly rude. Now, you will change," he ordered,
looking at my muddy clothes pointedly, "and you will dine with us in
the Hall. You will then be shown your quarters, for you are in need
of sleep. In the morning, you will be shown all that you wish to
see."
I nodded, suppressing the limitless questions flying through my head
as Lord Haldir walked ahead down the broad steps. I stood still for a
moment, overwhelmed. Orodren took my arm and asked me what I was
doing. I told him I was trying to make sure I could still breathe.
Bruno pushed his wet nose impatiently into my hand.
What should I do with my dog, I asked Lord Haldir's back.
He turned and said that Bruno would be taken to the stables, where he
would be comfortable, and fed. One of the elves we had traveled with
offered to take the leash.
The stables? I repeated in shock as I handed off Bruno, and Lord
Haldir walked on ahead. Well, at least I wouldn't have to continue to
worry about impending accidents on the marble floor. I squatted down
and scratched Bruno behind the ears, telling him I would come see him
tomorrow, and that if he marked territory on anything between here and
there that he would pay dearly.
* * * * *
After having stopped to change into my one other clean set of
clothing, I was accompanied into the Hall by Orodren.
The Great Hall was the largest and most unusual structure I had yet
seen in the cavern. Carved into and projecting out of the cliffs on
one side of the river, the Hall was set with a broad terrace that in
stronger light must command all of Methentaurond. One gained the
terrace from stairs on either side, leading to a great, high, curved
veil of rock that had been made so thin as to be translucent, its
veins of colors and transparencies visible like a thunder egg which
looks plain and uninteresting on the outside but when split and sliced
and polished reveals its secret inner beauty; its convex surface
glowed from the light within the Hall like a soft beacon in the night.
Whether it had been carved from the living rock or built to resemble
it I couldn't tell, but it spoke of the perfect essence of what being
rock was all about.
Behind this veil and past the sentries that guarded the entrances, the
Hall itself was large and high, with lanterns set around it behind
translucent stone like the entrance, its walls carved with delicate
bas-reliefs of plants and animals that seemed to grow from the floor
and intertwine intricately above. Examining the carving more closely
as we walked inside, I saw that it was not consistent, but that at
each place in the natural stone that was of particular beauty or held
crystals or other unique features, the carvings varied to accommodate
and celebrate these natural elements instead of the carver's own work
self-importantly ignoring or covering them. The more I looked, the
greater respect and awe I had for the craftspeople that honored the
cliffs as importantly as the people as they coaxed the Great Hall into
being.
The floor itself was set with varied colors and textures of stone.
Other arched stone passages radiated from the hall further into the
interior. The style reminded me of Celtic knots, Art Nouveau,
Nepalese jewelry, and the interwoven geometric shapes, flowers and
vines of Turkish tiles, yet was none of these. It was something
entirely different; finer, lovelier, like it was the perfect adornment
from which all of the others had sprung. Although lofty, the space
soothed the spirit and was surprisingly warm and comfortable.
The elves gathered inside smiled serenely or quietly laughed in
conversation. Yet, I felt an air of melancholy just beneath the
surface.
I was welcomed by several of them with solemn reserve and mild
curiosity, and learned my first elvish phrase: "Mae govannen," which
means "well met" or "welcome."
Some had varying shades of brown hair, although blond or silver were
clearly predominant. For the most part the females wore simple,
flattering long gowns and the males wore tunics and leggings similar
to Orodren's and Lindir's, though a few males were dressed in robes
like Lord Haldir's. Each person looked as though they were in the
prime of their life, the only indication, perhaps, of greater age or
wisdom a stronger glow or aura about some of them and the greater
deference paid to them by the others. I felt both childlike and old
among them.
All were beautiful and wise in their features and graceful in their
movements, though none, to my eye, moved with as much delicious grace
and controlled power, or as precisely and harmoniously with his
surroundings as did the Elf Lord. I looked from elf to elf in the
Hall hoping to find him, knowing that he would not be difficult to
notice if he was there.
As I looked toward one of the inner passages, Lord Haldir emerged, and
immediately all eyes in the Hall were directed his way, conversations
quieted and those who were seated stood. How he filled a room with
his presence!
Wearing clean robes, he nodded in greeting to those gathered in the
Hall. This seemed to be a signal for them to relax and continue their
activities.
Sooner than I had expected his eyes found mine. I was mesmerized; I
tracked his progress across the room toward Orodren and me in a slow-
motion trance of catching and then losing sight of him as people
crossed in front of him or stopped to greet him, but measuring his
progress by his crown of silver-gold hair that was visible above
almost all of the other heads in the room. After an eternity he
reached us, Lindir now at his side, and he offered me a seat at the
table on his left. It contained mostly delicious-smelling bread,
greens, dried fruit, and pitchers of an almost-clear liquid, but with
small platters of what looked like pheasant or quail. No fatty fried
foods for this crowd.
The drink had been passed around, and Lord Haldir had stood, on the
verge of a toast of some sort, when an elf I recognized as Gladrel
entered the Hall. She bowed before him slightly, nodded to me in
recognition, and engaged him in a low and urgent conversation. She
was clearly distressed, and as she spoke Haldir's features clouded.
Abruptly he excused himself and followed her out of the room. The
conversations around me died, and no one seemed to want to eat.
I looked across the table at Lindir, but he only shook his head. I
looked at my plate. I couldn't just sit there knowing something was
wrong. I pushed back my chair and left the Hall through the door they
had used and out into the cavern. There they were, swiftly passing
under a lantern some ways along the path ahead. I chose what I hoped
was the correct bridge when Lindir joined me, taking my arm, and we
followed them.
Soon they stopped and entered one of a series of connecting dwellings
comfortably nestled among the tree-pillars. Lindir directed me across
several more bridges and terraces, and we paused in the open doorway.
Lord Haldir knelt next to Gladrel before a male elf that lay on a
divan, covered by a quilt. Haldir placed his hands firmly on the
elf's chest as he had on my shoulder, bending low and intently
repeating something to him.
A female elf nervously sat next to the elf on the divan. Noticing us
in the doorway, she rose and silently motioned for us to enter.
Lindir went immediately to her and placed a comforting arm around her
shoulder. I entered as quietly as I could and stood at the end of the
divan. I am Allinde, she said, polite even in her distress, and this
is Callo. Callo looked at me with dull eyes and tried to sit up, but
Haldir quieted him. I bowed my head slightly in greeting and tried to
give him an encouraging smile.
The elf appeared ill, drained of energy, the aura that flowed from him
weak. Allinde looked at Haldir, her hands twisting in her lap, as
though hoping he would deny what she saw before her. Haldir clasped
Callo by the arm in reassurance and said a few more words to him, then
rose and drew Allinde aside, holding her hand and speaking to her and
Gladrel in a low voice. His words seemed to comfort her, and she
nodded now and again.
I was beginning to see why, even with his overbearing attitude,
scathing judgements, and his obvious distrust of those not of his own
kind, Haldir's people showed him such deep and obvious loyalty.
Beneath the hard, thick veneer, beneath the imperious walls that he
had constructed around himself so thoroughly, I could now and again
see small hints of a level of honor and depth of heart that I could
only guess at. Here was a stern leader, I thought, whose good opinion
or kind word one would go to the ends of the earth to earn. I wanted
to see more, know him better.
Then he took his leave and indicated with his eyes that Lindir and I
should come with him. We followed him out and back along the path,
and I strained to keep up with his pace. I wished he would stop and
explain what was wrong with this elf that my heart went out to. Some
distance along the path he finally paused, agitated, and turned to
address me.
"You see now why we have been compelled to bring you here. Another of
us begins to fade with the sickness of the world and we can do nothing
to prevent it."
What will happen to him, I asked.
"He will die," Haldir said bitterly, as though death was an
unthinkable thing for an elf, and he turned to walk again along the
path.
But you can't just give up on him, I demanded as I tried to keep up
with him.
Why did you bring me here, I asked when he didn't answer. I'm not a
doctor or a healer, I'm just an architect, and it's abundantly clear
that you don't need one here. What can I do?
"You can learn," he said urgently, "as much and as quickly as you are
able."
He stopped abruptly as we reached the terrace of the Hall once more.
"We will teach you, as the Valar intended; we will completely make way
for you at last. The world changes ever more rapidly and we have
failed to protect all that is fair and good. We have seen enough;
endured enough. I will not tarry longer, to see more of us fade and
die!
Sighing heavily he looked out across the glittering cavern. "We do
not understand the hearts of Men; why you restlessly shape and change
Arda even beyond the Song of the Valar. Perhaps we were not meant to
see this come to pass, for it pains us greatly."
If I learn what you have to teach, I asked him, will Callo get better?
"No," he replied with finality, gripping the edge of the railing, "it
is too late for the Elves. Whether you will finally touch the earth
lightly and heal Arda and yourselves, or whether you will persist in
causing every living system to decline until all is forsaken, will be
your choice.
Have you ever seen the wise trees of Tar-caranorn fall, Marian?" he
asked in dismay.
Yes, I have seen one fall, I told him, moving away from Lindir to
stand with him at the railing. I told him of the college scholarship
I and some of my other classmates had received from a lumber company
in my home town, and how they had taken us out into a stand of old
growth redwood to show us how much skill was involved in cutting one
down. How the trunks held so much water that they must lay a bed of
soil and branches behind them so that when they fell they wouldn't
shatter like a watermelon, and how they could direct the trees to fall
precisely into the bed. They meant it as a treat.
"Was it a treat, Marian?"
No, I told him, remembering. When the cutting and wedging was done
and the chainsaws fell silent, when the tree at last tilted and began
to fall, the heartwood ripping and cracking, it sounded like a scream,
I said, a long, sad scream.
"Did you take the money?" he said, and turned to fix me with an
unreadable, penetrating gaze.
I knew this was a pivotal question, and I knew I had to answer it
truthfully. Yes, I said, looking him squarely in the eye, I took the
money. We did not recognize then that what we were doing was wrong, I
protested when I saw his expression. I was eighteen years old. These
were our neighbors, the community that raised us. I could have said
no; it wasn't that much money. But I was not about to insult them or
embarrass my parents.
Every decision is not black or white, I said. I did what I thought
was right.
He said then with a shielded look that it was in the shades of gray
that Men's hearts so often went astray.
Excuse me, I said, losing my temper. The flet outside by the Linluin,
the dwellings in these trees, aren't they wood? Didn't you cut down
trees to build your homes, just like us?
Lindir stepped forward to argue, but Lord Haldir stopped him with a
raised hand.
"It is a fair question, Lindir. "Yes, we use the gifts of the forest
as well. But," he emphasized, "We use only what we truly need and we
respect the forest and the land when we do.
You must learn to see the Truth through the gray, Marian," he said
sternly. "You must - what is the mortal, American phrase? - "get off
of the fence."
I told him that I WAS off of the fence, that's why I had come with
them.
"We shall see," he replied in a heavy tone laced with doubt, his wise,
bold eyes measuring me once more. "You have seen much this evening
that is new to you. You are weary. We will speak further of this
tomorrow, you and I. Tonight and all nights you may linger with us
and hear the songs and tales of the elves, or you may go directly to
your rest, as you wish." And with that he excused himself and
reentered the Hall.
Lindir and I stood together uncomfortably on the terrace for a moment.
Lindir, I said finally, if the First were meant to teach the Second,
and we to learn from you, surely the differences between us can't be
so great. Men love and value the earth and its beauty too.
It is power, not beauty, that Men seek, he replied heatedly.
I was hurt that this elf who I wanted to be a friend should be so
angry with me.
We are not all like that, Lindir, I felt I had to say. You know this
- you know me.
I do not know you and you do not know me, he said, then seemed to
reconsider his words. But we will learn of each other, he said in a
calmer voice. Come, listen to our tales, Marian, and you will begin
to know us, he offered, and I reentered the Great Hall with him as
sweet elven voices raised in song around us.
* * * * *
I awoke this morning to an insistent knock on the door of my chambers.
I was in the middle of a deep, dream-filled sleep where Lindir played
on a harp, singing filled the air, and trees danced in the dark,
swinging lanterns and circling like dervishes around and around and...
I dragged myself out from under the cozy covers on my bed, walked
sleepily into the front room and opened the door to squint bleary-eyed
at the strikingly gorgeous but impatient female in the doorway. She
dumped a package in my arms and said that Lord Haldir had bid her to
deliver it to me, and moved on without another word.
Good morning to you, too, I mumbled as I closed the door and put the
package on the table. I looked around at the daylit room and decided
that I had better get washed and dressed; it looked like I had slept
late. But first I would open the package and. . . . .and it
finally registered in my groggy brain that it was DAYLIGHT in my room.
I looked up through the curved framed-glass structure that was the
ceiling, ran to the door and flung it open, stepped out onto the flet-
like deck and looked up again to the vaulted canopy. Scattered swirls
of mist hung high in the trees near the roof, and a soft light
permeated the entire cavern. A few of lanterns still glowed along the
darker paths. It was about as bright as an overcast day or the shady
floor of a tall forest would be outside. How was this possible? I
would have to wait for Lindir to find out, I supposed.
I went back inside and washed briefly in a room with fixtures that
were somewhat recognizable. Some thoughtful person had put out towels
and toiletries in beautiful tinted glass bottles, but I couldn't find
anything that resembled a bathtub. I settled for putting back on my
cleanest clothes from the night before. In a small curtained alcove
with a wardrobe there was a long mirror in which I determined that I
was relatively presentable. I would have to unpack my things sooner
or later. Then I went to examine the package on the table in the
front room.
Untying the cord and unfolded the material that had been bound in it,
I saw that it was finely woven in supple forest tones, blue-grays and
subtle greens and rusts that seemed to be the colors of choice here
for fashion as well as camouflage. Then I saw the mud stains.
The nerve! If this had been from Jason I would have laughed at being
had, but as it was, I don't know what message this little gift carried
except that I had offered to clean Lord Haldir's robes and he expected
me to be true to my word. I wondered if the method of delivery
indicated a sharp sense of humor, or just a puffed-up ego. I am
looking forward to finding out - this elf intrigues me in a way that
no other male ever has.
I added my own dirty clothes to the pile. Not only did I need to find
a bathtub, but I also needed to find the laundry.
I was rescued by Allinde, who arrived at my door to show me to a
bathing pool not far away, fed by the nearby river and tucked into an
alcove in the cliffs. It was protected from view by a tall hedge and
a billowy suspended fabric roof. This pool was one of many, she
said, scattered among the dwellings, and was for female use only. The
water was pleasantly warm and steamy, and although I was curious how
this was accomplished, at the moment I was more interested in getting
clean and talking to my companion.
At first I was very uncomfortable with her, not sure how she felt
about me, considering that Callo had become so ill. I wondered if it
was a coincidence that she was asked to accompany me, but I doubted
very much if anything happened by coincidence under Lord Haldir's
watch. Asking after Callo, I learned that he was bound to her cousin,
who had sailed to Valinor long ago.
When I asked what that meant, to be bound to someone, she explained
that it meant they were soul-mates, two spirits that were meant to
find each other, partners for all eternity. It was something that
every elf hoped to find.
I commented that I had been bound - married - to Kevin until he died.
What would her cousin do if Callo died, I asked. She would know,
Allinde said, even across the wide Sea that separated them - she would
feel it, and grieve. Allinde hoped her grief would not cause her to
fade and die as well, for an elf could die of grief at the loss of a
soul-mate. But she would be with her soon, to comfort her.
In spite of the tragedy of Callo's situation, I came to realize as we
talked that she did not blame me personally for his condition.
Rather, she took it to be fate, coming from their decision to stay in
Arda for so long. Although she loved her cousin's soul-mate and would
miss him sorely, someday they would meet again, in Valinor. Her
humility and her faith touched me deeply.
Was she bound to someone, I asked. No, not yet, she replied, but
Lindir was. Then she eyed me perceptively and said that Lindir didn't
blame me, either. Callo was a dear friend, and Lindir had been
shocked last night to see him take ill. I must forgive him for
becoming angry; his was a sensitive soul, a poet at heart.
Remembering last night in the Great Hall, I wondered out loud that
Lindir was a march warden, a historian, wrote music and played the
harp and the lute more beautifully than anyone I had ever heard - was
there nothing that Lindir didn't do?
Allinde smiled and explained that with so few of them remaining - some
hundred or so in Methentaurond, and only a few out among the world of
Men, that each had to take on many roles. Immortality also provided
endless opportunities to pursue and discover one's hidden talents.
Look at Lord Haldir, she offered, and here her eyes glowed with
reverence and pride. He was a great and wise leader, a warrior whose
skills and accomplishments were legendary, his abilities with a bow
and sword perfection.
Yes, I said, I had an opportunity to experience his skill with a bow,
and she laughed. All of Methentaurond, she said, had indulged in the
full tale by now.
But, she continued, he was also a wood-carver - a sculptor - and a
fine gardener as well. He even, she confided, played the harp. But I
mustn't let on that I knew, she said with a conspiratorial twinkle in
her eye. He was not as good at it as some, and he only played when he
thought no one was listening.
The thought that the very serious, the very intimidating, the very
perfect Lord Haldir might be shy about something sent a sweet tingle
through my chest that I tried to ignore.
So, everyone is not good at everything, I asked.
Oh no, she said. One must discover one's natural abilities. She
would never, she shuddered dramatically, ask Lindir to draw an apple
on a piece of parchment, much less paint one of his histories on the
cavern walls.
Lindir! she said, bidding me to rise out of the water. He would be
waiting with Gladrel to show me the laundry. I would enjoy that, she
was sure, she said with enthusiasm.
While we dressed I wondered what I could possibly find interesting
about a laundry, especially since it would most definitely not be
automatic. There didn't seem to be any electricity anywhere, though
everything was so well thought out that one hardly missed it. I
hadn't seen a computer, a telephone, a refrigerator, or as much as one
light bulb anywhere. I wondered that I wasn't going through internet
withdrawals. Come to think of it, an icy coke would be nice. No ice,
no ice anywhere. I would have to ask.
What were her interests, I inquired, as we strolled downstream on the
smooth path by the river.
She blew glass, she said. In fact, she had made the containers that I
had found in my room, and she blushed when I told her how beautiful I
thought they were. But her first love was languages. She spoke many
fluently, both ancient and common Elvish, and several of the Germanic
languages. At the moment she was learning Arabic. She would teach me
Elvish, if I wished.
I warned her that I was terrible at languages and knew only my own
well, but she said she would enjoy the challenge. Oh, and I must
visit their library with her. She had already translated some volumes
into English, in anticipation of my arrival. How had she learned so
many languages, I inquired. She explained briefly that she and a few
of the others went among the world of Men on occasion for the
gathering of news and to teach what they could. They had only been
marginally successful, however, she said sadly, in their influence.
How then, I asked in confusion, did we not know of their existence?
To which she replied mysteriously that men only saw what the elves
wanted them to see. I thought back a few days to when I had first met
Lindir, Orodren and Gladrel. I had not at first seen their true
nature.
We passed the last of the dwellings and came upon a great pantheon of
tree-pillars, inside of which the cavern ceiling rose in a huge
unsupported vault. Below the vault was a wide clearing with a small
lake at its center. I looked back in the direction we had come and
tried to find the balcony of the entrance hall. This must be the open
area that I had sensed the night before. Now I saw that the clearing
was set about with a many large, delicate glass structures springing
from the bases of the circle of pillars and glowing with light. As we
walked closer to these ethereal buildings I saw that they were each
fed with a small trickling stream from the lake, and were filled with
plants.
I thought we were going to meet Lindir at the laundry, I said.
This is the laundry, Allinde said with a twinkle in her eye as she
opened the door to one of the greenhouses, and we stepped inside.
Again, I was astounded by the organic nature of the architecture that
so simply expressed both the artistic skills of the builders and the
potential of the materials. Reminding me somewhat of the ceiling of
my rooms, the structure was a symphony in wood and glass. The builder
had orchestrated the nature and structure of wood and glass and light
to play together in perfect harmony. But so perfectly did the
architecture complement and express itself as background that it was
the park-like paradise inside that caught my rapt attention.
Streamwater cascaded from pool to pool set around the interior - at
waist height were warm, steaming vats that trickled progressively into
cooler, lower pools one by one, each filled with different varieties
of lush water plants and fountains, then emptied into a final sandy
bog that allowed the water to trickle out of the building and
presumably back to the lake or on to other greenhouses. Like a small
rainforest, other, taller plants sprang from the sandy ground inside,
trees and vines that hung over the pools, some trailing flowered
branches in the water.
The building was deserted except for Lindir and Gladrel, who sat in a
circle of wooden benches and worktables by the vats and rose as we
entered.
I was delighted to see Gladrel again. She had exchanged her warden
uniform for a long, practical-looking short-sleeved gown and a sturdy
smock with pockets from which peeked a variety of useful-looking
implements.
When Lindir indicated that Gladrel was in charge of the laundry, my
first thought was that elves might be as sexist as the rest of the
world. But as I listened to her animatedly describing how it worked I
came to realize how dependent on Gladrel's skills the entire community
was. She was what we would call a master gardener. She was in her
element; the silent reticence she had exhibited in the forest melted
away as she took a pair of my hiking pants and showed me what to do,
always patiently answering my many "why " and "how" questions.
The first vats near the worktables were for washing and rinsing the
clothing, which was then hung in a wide passage with many doors
between greenhouses to dry. The soaps used for washing were plant-
based and dissolved easily into the water. Water plants and small
fish in the progressive pools below fed upon these soaps and soil from
the clothing, and in doing so cleaned and purified the water. The
water then flowed along with other water from the lake and entered
other greenhouses where food was grown for the community. The bathing
pools, Allinde added, functioned in much the same way.
Never was any water that was used by the elves returned to the river
in anything but the same pure state that it entered the caverns. If
these systems were compromised, Lindir commented, if the plants fell
sick and died, if the water somehow became tainted, there would be
serious consequences for the community. Gladrel and the elves that
worked with her in the gardens were highly respected by all, and it
was a great honor to be counted among them.
I had saved Lord Haldir's robes for last; they looked and felt more
like candidates for dry cleaning than being dunked into the water, but
Gladrel assured me that I need not be nervous, they would be fine. I
reluctantly pushed them down into the warm, slightly soapy, fragrant
water, praying that the stains would come out and the fabric wouldn't
be ruined. Gladrel laughed and reached in to help me, assuring me
that I didn't need to treat them so carefully, but in fact I was
scared to death that I would somehow mess up this simple task and have
to face Lord Haldir's criticism and disappointment. I would re-weave,
re-sew and re-embroider every inch of his garments before I would
endure that.
Securing the wet robes in a safe place in the passageway, I bid
Gladrel and Allinde goodbye. Lindir and I walked on into the other
greenhouses, lunching on an apple here and a carrot there and tasting
several unfamiliar greens and fruits as we went. We reached a final,
fragrant greenhouse, which was filled to bursting with flowers. They
were for pleasure, Lindir said. He picked one and handed it to me,
then embarrassed me by apologizing gallantly for his anger of the
night before.
I told him he had nothing to apologize for. I was hesitant to, but I
asked him if I could visit Callo again that evening. I was pleased to
see his face soften, and he told me that we would go see him together.
We came upon some of the lanterns glimmering and dancing like diamonds
in a carved passage on our way up to the entrance balcony in the
afternoon, and finally I asked Lindir how there seemed to be daylight
in the caverns. And these lanterns, I asked, the ones on the paths and
the roof of the caverns. What are they?
They are starlight, Lindir answered simply.
You took light from the stars and put it in the lanterns, I said
sarcastically, sure he was yanking my chain as I suspected he often
did.
As long as starlight endured in the world, he said seriously as the
lantern's reflections glittered in his eyes, the lanterns of
Methentaurond would never fade or go dark.
I don't know why, but I believe he is telling me the truth.
* * * * *
As I sit on the balcony off the entrance hall, sometimes drawing,
sometimes writing, I think of all of the places Lindir has been kind
enough to show me today: The laundry, the greenhouses, the lantern-
lit underground passages, the stables, now devoid of horses and
holding only a big, furry dog, the kitchens, the many gardens and
fountains and underground grottos bathed in lanterns of starlight. I
listen as well to the stories Lindir is telling me of the elves and
their long history as we gaze out at Methentaurond together, and I am
awed.
Now an elf comes running lightly up the broad stairs. With a hand on
his heart he tells Lindir that Lord Haldir is expecting us. We are to
come at once to the Great Hall. My heart pounds in anticipation.
What wonders am I to learn from him there? Will I be tested? Doubted?
Or will he tell me, finally, what gift the elves have to give me, and
what I have sworn my life to: what unspoken obligations and secrets I
must bear in return?
*The Lay of Luthien, J.R.R. Tolkien
"
CHAPTER 10: OF STARS IN SHADOW SHIMMERING*
5 September
This afternoon I situated myself on the balcony from which I received
my first sight of Methentaurond. I have started from the back of this
journal and am attempting to sketch the strange, enchanting and
breathtaking panorama that lies before me.
I have not drawn freehand in years! Yet, I am finding that the skill
is slowly coming back to me, and I am struggling much less than I had
anticipated.
Meanwhile, the two sentries guarding the entrance to these marvelous,
magical halls are unsuccessfully pretending not to look over my
shoulder.
At first I wished for a camera. I am glad now that I do not have such
a seductively easy crutch to entrust a record of this place to. For
that is what I feel compelled to do; I do not want to miss, or forget,
anything. And, I feel an urgent need to learn, to absorb and
understand everything I see the best that I can. Do I fear it will be
lost? Perhaps; I don't know. I wish I was younger, sharper, so I
could notice things and remember better.
I expressed as much to Lindir this morning. My mind could only absorb
a fraction of what he and the others had shown me. I stopped him mid-
day and told him that first I needed time to absorb what I have
already seen, or I would be overwhelmed. Drawing something, I said,
was like meditating on that thing. It forced me to observe well - the
largest patterns, the tiniest details, the changing play of light and
reflection that gives a thing its depth, its life.
It was the same, he said, with music.
Last night we had emerged from the entrance hall into the upper
portion of a great cavern whose roof was delineated by points of light
scattered like constellations of stars. The volume of the space was a
shock; the beauty of the place in the gathering night was staggering.
I could not have imagined anything like it; the very thought that such
a place could exist, above ground or below, was beyond my
comprehension.
Here and there in the growing darkness - for it seemed as much
twilight now within the cavern as without - the forms behind the
impressions and shadows were revealed by the soft, golden glow of
countless lanterns. Before us, achieving what spiritual awe the
Gothic cathedrals only attempted in their own beauty and lightness to
achieve, were vaults that appeared to have grown like spreading tree
roots, drawn together and braided into twisting pillars that reached
for the floor like stalagtites, yet with spreading branches and leaves
as well, from which more lanterns were hung, strewn among them like
fireflies. Rising to meet and intertwine with them like stalagmites
were pillars of what might have been carved wood or stone. In this
light the line between what was built and what was natural was
impossible to define. The effect was that of an underground forest as
tall as the redwoods outside. Cast between the pillars and the cavern
walls were platforms and bridges and dwellings that were the very
embodiment of that which had been carved on the entrance doors.
Looking down, here also were shelves and balconies and terraces
extending from the cavern walls, connecting to the bridges of the tree-
pillars. Beyond the balconies soft lights glowed from openings in the
walls of the cavern itself, suggesting that both small rooms and large
chambers had been carved into the living rock as well.
To the right, a dizzying distance below the balcony on which we stood,
a gentle river whose edges were strung with lights flowed along one
side of the cavern wall, the forest on the other, falling from one
height to the next in a series of small waterfalls, cascading from
shelf to shelf, disappearing in the darkening haze in the distance.
Far below to the left was layered dark form on dark form, of what I
could not tell, except for a feeling of openness.
The cool air was heady with moisture and a clean smell like trees with
an undercurrent of tilled soil- not a dank, musty cave smell at all,
but a fresh, growing, living scent. And there was the murmuring sound
of water falling on stone, lullaby-like, restful and delicate and
pervasive.
An intricately carved great stairway arched around to our right, and
down these flights of steps Lord Haldir silently led me, Bruno's nails
tap-tapping echoes on the marble.
How. . . how are those terrace supported, they are too thin, I
asked, the spans are too long. . . can we look at them now?
"In the morning, when it is light."
The morning, how can you see the morning in here, I asked. Wait, I
begged, hanging over the railing and pointing at a dwelling that
seemed to float between the trees and the side of the cavern, that. .
. that is structurally impossible! How do you do that?
Wait, slow down! Wood can't do that, that can't be wood. What kind
of material is that?
Isn't that's a birdbath? There are BIRDS in here?
Those trees, those columns, redwoods don't grow like that, they don't
DO THAT. Where's my flashlight?
I stopped and searched feverishly through my pack with the hand that
wasn't attached to Bruno's leash.
Lord Haldir stopped me with a firm hand on my arm.
"That would be exceedingly rude. Now, you will change," he ordered,
looking at my muddy clothes pointedly, "and you will dine with us in
the Hall. You will then be shown your quarters, for you are in need
of sleep. In the morning, you will be shown all that you wish to
see."
I nodded, suppressing the limitless questions flying through my head
as Lord Haldir walked ahead down the broad steps. I stood still for a
moment, overwhelmed. Orodren took my arm and asked me what I was
doing. I told him I was trying to make sure I could still breathe.
Bruno pushed his wet nose impatiently into my hand.
What should I do with my dog, I asked Lord Haldir's back.
He turned and said that Bruno would be taken to the stables, where he
would be comfortable, and fed. One of the elves we had traveled with
offered to take the leash.
The stables? I repeated in shock as I handed off Bruno, and Lord
Haldir walked on ahead. Well, at least I wouldn't have to continue to
worry about impending accidents on the marble floor. I squatted down
and scratched Bruno behind the ears, telling him I would come see him
tomorrow, and that if he marked territory on anything between here and
there that he would pay dearly.
* * * * *
After having stopped to change into my one other clean set of
clothing, I was accompanied into the Hall by Orodren.
The Great Hall was the largest and most unusual structure I had yet
seen in the cavern. Carved into and projecting out of the cliffs on
one side of the river, the Hall was set with a broad terrace that in
stronger light must command all of Methentaurond. One gained the
terrace from stairs on either side, leading to a great, high, curved
veil of rock that had been made so thin as to be translucent, its
veins of colors and transparencies visible like a thunder egg which
looks plain and uninteresting on the outside but when split and sliced
and polished reveals its secret inner beauty; its convex surface
glowed from the light within the Hall like a soft beacon in the night.
Whether it had been carved from the living rock or built to resemble
it I couldn't tell, but it spoke of the perfect essence of what being
rock was all about.
Behind this veil and past the sentries that guarded the entrances, the
Hall itself was large and high, with lanterns set around it behind
translucent stone like the entrance, its walls carved with delicate
bas-reliefs of plants and animals that seemed to grow from the floor
and intertwine intricately above. Examining the carving more closely
as we walked inside, I saw that it was not consistent, but that at
each place in the natural stone that was of particular beauty or held
crystals or other unique features, the carvings varied to accommodate
and celebrate these natural elements instead of the carver's own work
self-importantly ignoring or covering them. The more I looked, the
greater respect and awe I had for the craftspeople that honored the
cliffs as importantly as the people as they coaxed the Great Hall into
being.
The floor itself was set with varied colors and textures of stone.
Other arched stone passages radiated from the hall further into the
interior. The style reminded me of Celtic knots, Art Nouveau,
Nepalese jewelry, and the interwoven geometric shapes, flowers and
vines of Turkish tiles, yet was none of these. It was something
entirely different; finer, lovelier, like it was the perfect adornment
from which all of the others had sprung. Although lofty, the space
soothed the spirit and was surprisingly warm and comfortable.
The elves gathered inside smiled serenely or quietly laughed in
conversation. Yet, I felt an air of melancholy just beneath the
surface.
I was welcomed by several of them with solemn reserve and mild
curiosity, and learned my first elvish phrase: "Mae govannen," which
means "well met" or "welcome."
Some had varying shades of brown hair, although blond or silver were
clearly predominant. For the most part the females wore simple,
flattering long gowns and the males wore tunics and leggings similar
to Orodren's and Lindir's, though a few males were dressed in robes
like Lord Haldir's. Each person looked as though they were in the
prime of their life, the only indication, perhaps, of greater age or
wisdom a stronger glow or aura about some of them and the greater
deference paid to them by the others. I felt both childlike and old
among them.
All were beautiful and wise in their features and graceful in their
movements, though none, to my eye, moved with as much delicious grace
and controlled power, or as precisely and harmoniously with his
surroundings as did the Elf Lord. I looked from elf to elf in the
Hall hoping to find him, knowing that he would not be difficult to
notice if he was there.
As I looked toward one of the inner passages, Lord Haldir emerged, and
immediately all eyes in the Hall were directed his way, conversations
quieted and those who were seated stood. How he filled a room with
his presence!
Wearing clean robes, he nodded in greeting to those gathered in the
Hall. This seemed to be a signal for them to relax and continue their
activities.
Sooner than I had expected his eyes found mine. I was mesmerized; I
tracked his progress across the room toward Orodren and me in a slow-
motion trance of catching and then losing sight of him as people
crossed in front of him or stopped to greet him, but measuring his
progress by his crown of silver-gold hair that was visible above
almost all of the other heads in the room. After an eternity he
reached us, Lindir now at his side, and he offered me a seat at the
table on his left. It contained mostly delicious-smelling bread,
greens, dried fruit, and pitchers of an almost-clear liquid, but with
small platters of what looked like pheasant or quail. No fatty fried
foods for this crowd.
The drink had been passed around, and Lord Haldir had stood, on the
verge of a toast of some sort, when an elf I recognized as Gladrel
entered the Hall. She bowed before him slightly, nodded to me in
recognition, and engaged him in a low and urgent conversation. She
was clearly distressed, and as she spoke Haldir's features clouded.
Abruptly he excused himself and followed her out of the room. The
conversations around me died, and no one seemed to want to eat.
I looked across the table at Lindir, but he only shook his head. I
looked at my plate. I couldn't just sit there knowing something was
wrong. I pushed back my chair and left the Hall through the door they
had used and out into the cavern. There they were, swiftly passing
under a lantern some ways along the path ahead. I chose what I hoped
was the correct bridge when Lindir joined me, taking my arm, and we
followed them.
Soon they stopped and entered one of a series of connecting dwellings
comfortably nestled among the tree-pillars. Lindir directed me across
several more bridges and terraces, and we paused in the open doorway.
Lord Haldir knelt next to Gladrel before a male elf that lay on a
divan, covered by a quilt. Haldir placed his hands firmly on the
elf's chest as he had on my shoulder, bending low and intently
repeating something to him.
A female elf nervously sat next to the elf on the divan. Noticing us
in the doorway, she rose and silently motioned for us to enter.
Lindir went immediately to her and placed a comforting arm around her
shoulder. I entered as quietly as I could and stood at the end of the
divan. I am Allinde, she said, polite even in her distress, and this
is Callo. Callo looked at me with dull eyes and tried to sit up, but
Haldir quieted him. I bowed my head slightly in greeting and tried to
give him an encouraging smile.
The elf appeared ill, drained of energy, the aura that flowed from him
weak. Allinde looked at Haldir, her hands twisting in her lap, as
though hoping he would deny what she saw before her. Haldir clasped
Callo by the arm in reassurance and said a few more words to him, then
rose and drew Allinde aside, holding her hand and speaking to her and
Gladrel in a low voice. His words seemed to comfort her, and she
nodded now and again.
I was beginning to see why, even with his overbearing attitude,
scathing judgements, and his obvious distrust of those not of his own
kind, Haldir's people showed him such deep and obvious loyalty.
Beneath the hard, thick veneer, beneath the imperious walls that he
had constructed around himself so thoroughly, I could now and again
see small hints of a level of honor and depth of heart that I could
only guess at. Here was a stern leader, I thought, whose good opinion
or kind word one would go to the ends of the earth to earn. I wanted
to see more, know him better.
Then he took his leave and indicated with his eyes that Lindir and I
should come with him. We followed him out and back along the path,
and I strained to keep up with his pace. I wished he would stop and
explain what was wrong with this elf that my heart went out to. Some
distance along the path he finally paused, agitated, and turned to
address me.
"You see now why we have been compelled to bring you here. Another of
us begins to fade with the sickness of the world and we can do nothing
to prevent it."
What will happen to him, I asked.
"He will die," Haldir said bitterly, as though death was an
unthinkable thing for an elf, and he turned to walk again along the
path.
But you can't just give up on him, I demanded as I tried to keep up
with him.
Why did you bring me here, I asked when he didn't answer. I'm not a
doctor or a healer, I'm just an architect, and it's abundantly clear
that you don't need one here. What can I do?
"You can learn," he said urgently, "as much and as quickly as you are
able."
He stopped abruptly as we reached the terrace of the Hall once more.
"We will teach you, as the Valar intended; we will completely make way
for you at last. The world changes ever more rapidly and we have
failed to protect all that is fair and good. We have seen enough;
endured enough. I will not tarry longer, to see more of us fade and
die!
Sighing heavily he looked out across the glittering cavern. "We do
not understand the hearts of Men; why you restlessly shape and change
Arda even beyond the Song of the Valar. Perhaps we were not meant to
see this come to pass, for it pains us greatly."
If I learn what you have to teach, I asked him, will Callo get better?
"No," he replied with finality, gripping the edge of the railing, "it
is too late for the Elves. Whether you will finally touch the earth
lightly and heal Arda and yourselves, or whether you will persist in
causing every living system to decline until all is forsaken, will be
your choice.
Have you ever seen the wise trees of Tar-caranorn fall, Marian?" he
asked in dismay.
Yes, I have seen one fall, I told him, moving away from Lindir to
stand with him at the railing. I told him of the college scholarship
I and some of my other classmates had received from a lumber company
in my home town, and how they had taken us out into a stand of old
growth redwood to show us how much skill was involved in cutting one
down. How the trunks held so much water that they must lay a bed of
soil and branches behind them so that when they fell they wouldn't
shatter like a watermelon, and how they could direct the trees to fall
precisely into the bed. They meant it as a treat.
"Was it a treat, Marian?"
No, I told him, remembering. When the cutting and wedging was done
and the chainsaws fell silent, when the tree at last tilted and began
to fall, the heartwood ripping and cracking, it sounded like a scream,
I said, a long, sad scream.
"Did you take the money?" he said, and turned to fix me with an
unreadable, penetrating gaze.
I knew this was a pivotal question, and I knew I had to answer it
truthfully. Yes, I said, looking him squarely in the eye, I took the
money. We did not recognize then that what we were doing was wrong, I
protested when I saw his expression. I was eighteen years old. These
were our neighbors, the community that raised us. I could have said
no; it wasn't that much money. But I was not about to insult them or
embarrass my parents.
Every decision is not black or white, I said. I did what I thought
was right.
He said then with a shielded look that it was in the shades of gray
that Men's hearts so often went astray.
Excuse me, I said, losing my temper. The flet outside by the Linluin,
the dwellings in these trees, aren't they wood? Didn't you cut down
trees to build your homes, just like us?
Lindir stepped forward to argue, but Lord Haldir stopped him with a
raised hand.
"It is a fair question, Lindir. "Yes, we use the gifts of the forest
as well. But," he emphasized, "We use only what we truly need and we
respect the forest and the land when we do.
You must learn to see the Truth through the gray, Marian," he said
sternly. "You must - what is the mortal, American phrase? - "get off
of the fence."
I told him that I WAS off of the fence, that's why I had come with
them.
"We shall see," he replied in a heavy tone laced with doubt, his wise,
bold eyes measuring me once more. "You have seen much this evening
that is new to you. You are weary. We will speak further of this
tomorrow, you and I. Tonight and all nights you may linger with us
and hear the songs and tales of the elves, or you may go directly to
your rest, as you wish." And with that he excused himself and
reentered the Hall.
Lindir and I stood together uncomfortably on the terrace for a moment.
Lindir, I said finally, if the First were meant to teach the Second,
and we to learn from you, surely the differences between us can't be
so great. Men love and value the earth and its beauty too.
It is power, not beauty, that Men seek, he replied heatedly.
I was hurt that this elf who I wanted to be a friend should be so
angry with me.
We are not all like that, Lindir, I felt I had to say. You know this
- you know me.
I do not know you and you do not know me, he said, then seemed to
reconsider his words. But we will learn of each other, he said in a
calmer voice. Come, listen to our tales, Marian, and you will begin
to know us, he offered, and I reentered the Great Hall with him as
sweet elven voices raised in song around us.
* * * * *
I awoke this morning to an insistent knock on the door of my chambers.
I was in the middle of a deep, dream-filled sleep where Lindir played
on a harp, singing filled the air, and trees danced in the dark,
swinging lanterns and circling like dervishes around and around and...
I dragged myself out from under the cozy covers on my bed, walked
sleepily into the front room and opened the door to squint bleary-eyed
at the strikingly gorgeous but impatient female in the doorway. She
dumped a package in my arms and said that Lord Haldir had bid her to
deliver it to me, and moved on without another word.
Good morning to you, too, I mumbled as I closed the door and put the
package on the table. I looked around at the daylit room and decided
that I had better get washed and dressed; it looked like I had slept
late. But first I would open the package and. . . . .and it
finally registered in my groggy brain that it was DAYLIGHT in my room.
I looked up through the curved framed-glass structure that was the
ceiling, ran to the door and flung it open, stepped out onto the flet-
like deck and looked up again to the vaulted canopy. Scattered swirls
of mist hung high in the trees near the roof, and a soft light
permeated the entire cavern. A few of lanterns still glowed along the
darker paths. It was about as bright as an overcast day or the shady
floor of a tall forest would be outside. How was this possible? I
would have to wait for Lindir to find out, I supposed.
I went back inside and washed briefly in a room with fixtures that
were somewhat recognizable. Some thoughtful person had put out towels
and toiletries in beautiful tinted glass bottles, but I couldn't find
anything that resembled a bathtub. I settled for putting back on my
cleanest clothes from the night before. In a small curtained alcove
with a wardrobe there was a long mirror in which I determined that I
was relatively presentable. I would have to unpack my things sooner
or later. Then I went to examine the package on the table in the
front room.
Untying the cord and unfolded the material that had been bound in it,
I saw that it was finely woven in supple forest tones, blue-grays and
subtle greens and rusts that seemed to be the colors of choice here
for fashion as well as camouflage. Then I saw the mud stains.
The nerve! If this had been from Jason I would have laughed at being
had, but as it was, I don't know what message this little gift carried
except that I had offered to clean Lord Haldir's robes and he expected
me to be true to my word. I wondered if the method of delivery
indicated a sharp sense of humor, or just a puffed-up ego. I am
looking forward to finding out - this elf intrigues me in a way that
no other male ever has.
I added my own dirty clothes to the pile. Not only did I need to find
a bathtub, but I also needed to find the laundry.
I was rescued by Allinde, who arrived at my door to show me to a
bathing pool not far away, fed by the nearby river and tucked into an
alcove in the cliffs. It was protected from view by a tall hedge and
a billowy suspended fabric roof. This pool was one of many, she
said, scattered among the dwellings, and was for female use only. The
water was pleasantly warm and steamy, and although I was curious how
this was accomplished, at the moment I was more interested in getting
clean and talking to my companion.
At first I was very uncomfortable with her, not sure how she felt
about me, considering that Callo had become so ill. I wondered if it
was a coincidence that she was asked to accompany me, but I doubted
very much if anything happened by coincidence under Lord Haldir's
watch. Asking after Callo, I learned that he was bound to her cousin,
who had sailed to Valinor long ago.
When I asked what that meant, to be bound to someone, she explained
that it meant they were soul-mates, two spirits that were meant to
find each other, partners for all eternity. It was something that
every elf hoped to find.
I commented that I had been bound - married - to Kevin until he died.
What would her cousin do if Callo died, I asked. She would know,
Allinde said, even across the wide Sea that separated them - she would
feel it, and grieve. Allinde hoped her grief would not cause her to
fade and die as well, for an elf could die of grief at the loss of a
soul-mate. But she would be with her soon, to comfort her.
In spite of the tragedy of Callo's situation, I came to realize as we
talked that she did not blame me personally for his condition.
Rather, she took it to be fate, coming from their decision to stay in
Arda for so long. Although she loved her cousin's soul-mate and would
miss him sorely, someday they would meet again, in Valinor. Her
humility and her faith touched me deeply.
Was she bound to someone, I asked. No, not yet, she replied, but
Lindir was. Then she eyed me perceptively and said that Lindir didn't
blame me, either. Callo was a dear friend, and Lindir had been
shocked last night to see him take ill. I must forgive him for
becoming angry; his was a sensitive soul, a poet at heart.
Remembering last night in the Great Hall, I wondered out loud that
Lindir was a march warden, a historian, wrote music and played the
harp and the lute more beautifully than anyone I had ever heard - was
there nothing that Lindir didn't do?
Allinde smiled and explained that with so few of them remaining - some
hundred or so in Methentaurond, and only a few out among the world of
Men, that each had to take on many roles. Immortality also provided
endless opportunities to pursue and discover one's hidden talents.
Look at Lord Haldir, she offered, and here her eyes glowed with
reverence and pride. He was a great and wise leader, a warrior whose
skills and accomplishments were legendary, his abilities with a bow
and sword perfection.
Yes, I said, I had an opportunity to experience his skill with a bow,
and she laughed. All of Methentaurond, she said, had indulged in the
full tale by now.
But, she continued, he was also a wood-carver - a sculptor - and a
fine gardener as well. He even, she confided, played the harp. But I
mustn't let on that I knew, she said with a conspiratorial twinkle in
her eye. He was not as good at it as some, and he only played when he
thought no one was listening.
The thought that the very serious, the very intimidating, the very
perfect Lord Haldir might be shy about something sent a sweet tingle
through my chest that I tried to ignore.
So, everyone is not good at everything, I asked.
Oh no, she said. One must discover one's natural abilities. She
would never, she shuddered dramatically, ask Lindir to draw an apple
on a piece of parchment, much less paint one of his histories on the
cavern walls.
Lindir! she said, bidding me to rise out of the water. He would be
waiting with Gladrel to show me the laundry. I would enjoy that, she
was sure, she said with enthusiasm.
While we dressed I wondered what I could possibly find interesting
about a laundry, especially since it would most definitely not be
automatic. There didn't seem to be any electricity anywhere, though
everything was so well thought out that one hardly missed it. I
hadn't seen a computer, a telephone, a refrigerator, or as much as one
light bulb anywhere. I wondered that I wasn't going through internet
withdrawals. Come to think of it, an icy coke would be nice. No ice,
no ice anywhere. I would have to ask.
What were her interests, I inquired, as we strolled downstream on the
smooth path by the river.
She blew glass, she said. In fact, she had made the containers that I
had found in my room, and she blushed when I told her how beautiful I
thought they were. But her first love was languages. She spoke many
fluently, both ancient and common Elvish, and several of the Germanic
languages. At the moment she was learning Arabic. She would teach me
Elvish, if I wished.
I warned her that I was terrible at languages and knew only my own
well, but she said she would enjoy the challenge. Oh, and I must
visit their library with her. She had already translated some volumes
into English, in anticipation of my arrival. How had she learned so
many languages, I inquired. She explained briefly that she and a few
of the others went among the world of Men on occasion for the
gathering of news and to teach what they could. They had only been
marginally successful, however, she said sadly, in their influence.
How then, I asked in confusion, did we not know of their existence?
To which she replied mysteriously that men only saw what the elves
wanted them to see. I thought back a few days to when I had first met
Lindir, Orodren and Gladrel. I had not at first seen their true
nature.
We passed the last of the dwellings and came upon a great pantheon of
tree-pillars, inside of which the cavern ceiling rose in a huge
unsupported vault. Below the vault was a wide clearing with a small
lake at its center. I looked back in the direction we had come and
tried to find the balcony of the entrance hall. This must be the open
area that I had sensed the night before. Now I saw that the clearing
was set about with a many large, delicate glass structures springing
from the bases of the circle of pillars and glowing with light. As we
walked closer to these ethereal buildings I saw that they were each
fed with a small trickling stream from the lake, and were filled with
plants.
I thought we were going to meet Lindir at the laundry, I said.
This is the laundry, Allinde said with a twinkle in her eye as she
opened the door to one of the greenhouses, and we stepped inside.
Again, I was astounded by the organic nature of the architecture that
so simply expressed both the artistic skills of the builders and the
potential of the materials. Reminding me somewhat of the ceiling of
my rooms, the structure was a symphony in wood and glass. The builder
had orchestrated the nature and structure of wood and glass and light
to play together in perfect harmony. But so perfectly did the
architecture complement and express itself as background that it was
the park-like paradise inside that caught my rapt attention.
Streamwater cascaded from pool to pool set around the interior - at
waist height were warm, steaming vats that trickled progressively into
cooler, lower pools one by one, each filled with different varieties
of lush water plants and fountains, then emptied into a final sandy
bog that allowed the water to trickle out of the building and
presumably back to the lake or on to other greenhouses. Like a small
rainforest, other, taller plants sprang from the sandy ground inside,
trees and vines that hung over the pools, some trailing flowered
branches in the water.
The building was deserted except for Lindir and Gladrel, who sat in a
circle of wooden benches and worktables by the vats and rose as we
entered.
I was delighted to see Gladrel again. She had exchanged her warden
uniform for a long, practical-looking short-sleeved gown and a sturdy
smock with pockets from which peeked a variety of useful-looking
implements.
When Lindir indicated that Gladrel was in charge of the laundry, my
first thought was that elves might be as sexist as the rest of the
world. But as I listened to her animatedly describing how it worked I
came to realize how dependent on Gladrel's skills the entire community
was. She was what we would call a master gardener. She was in her
element; the silent reticence she had exhibited in the forest melted
away as she took a pair of my hiking pants and showed me what to do,
always patiently answering my many "why " and "how" questions.
The first vats near the worktables were for washing and rinsing the
clothing, which was then hung in a wide passage with many doors
between greenhouses to dry. The soaps used for washing were plant-
based and dissolved easily into the water. Water plants and small
fish in the progressive pools below fed upon these soaps and soil from
the clothing, and in doing so cleaned and purified the water. The
water then flowed along with other water from the lake and entered
other greenhouses where food was grown for the community. The bathing
pools, Allinde added, functioned in much the same way.
Never was any water that was used by the elves returned to the river
in anything but the same pure state that it entered the caverns. If
these systems were compromised, Lindir commented, if the plants fell
sick and died, if the water somehow became tainted, there would be
serious consequences for the community. Gladrel and the elves that
worked with her in the gardens were highly respected by all, and it
was a great honor to be counted among them.
I had saved Lord Haldir's robes for last; they looked and felt more
like candidates for dry cleaning than being dunked into the water, but
Gladrel assured me that I need not be nervous, they would be fine. I
reluctantly pushed them down into the warm, slightly soapy, fragrant
water, praying that the stains would come out and the fabric wouldn't
be ruined. Gladrel laughed and reached in to help me, assuring me
that I didn't need to treat them so carefully, but in fact I was
scared to death that I would somehow mess up this simple task and have
to face Lord Haldir's criticism and disappointment. I would re-weave,
re-sew and re-embroider every inch of his garments before I would
endure that.
Securing the wet robes in a safe place in the passageway, I bid
Gladrel and Allinde goodbye. Lindir and I walked on into the other
greenhouses, lunching on an apple here and a carrot there and tasting
several unfamiliar greens and fruits as we went. We reached a final,
fragrant greenhouse, which was filled to bursting with flowers. They
were for pleasure, Lindir said. He picked one and handed it to me,
then embarrassed me by apologizing gallantly for his anger of the
night before.
I told him he had nothing to apologize for. I was hesitant to, but I
asked him if I could visit Callo again that evening. I was pleased to
see his face soften, and he told me that we would go see him together.
We came upon some of the lanterns glimmering and dancing like diamonds
in a carved passage on our way up to the entrance balcony in the
afternoon, and finally I asked Lindir how there seemed to be daylight
in the caverns. And these lanterns, I asked, the ones on the paths and
the roof of the caverns. What are they?
They are starlight, Lindir answered simply.
You took light from the stars and put it in the lanterns, I said
sarcastically, sure he was yanking my chain as I suspected he often
did.
As long as starlight endured in the world, he said seriously as the
lantern's reflections glittered in his eyes, the lanterns of
Methentaurond would never fade or go dark.
I don't know why, but I believe he is telling me the truth.
* * * * *
As I sit on the balcony off the entrance hall, sometimes drawing,
sometimes writing, I think of all of the places Lindir has been kind
enough to show me today: The laundry, the greenhouses, the lantern-
lit underground passages, the stables, now devoid of horses and
holding only a big, furry dog, the kitchens, the many gardens and
fountains and underground grottos bathed in lanterns of starlight. I
listen as well to the stories Lindir is telling me of the elves and
their long history as we gaze out at Methentaurond together, and I am
awed.
Now an elf comes running lightly up the broad stairs. With a hand on
his heart he tells Lindir that Lord Haldir is expecting us. We are to
come at once to the Great Hall. My heart pounds in anticipation.
What wonders am I to learn from him there? Will I be tested? Doubted?
Or will he tell me, finally, what gift the elves have to give me, and
what I have sworn my life to: what unspoken obligations and secrets I
must bear in return?
*The Lay of Luthien, J.R.R. Tolkien
"