Author's Note: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
* * * * * THE TALE OF MARIAN
CHAPTER 11 - TO FIDELITY, LOVE, AND LIFE
6 September
Was it only two days ago that I entered Methentaurond? It seems like
a lifetime ago. Everything is different now. The path I have begun
to walk is different than before; I am different than before. Or
perhaps now I am finally finding out who I am. Whether that will be
enough or not, I don't know.
I'm scared, though. I don't know if I can do this. Lord Haldir is
right: Insecurity has always been my greatest weakness. I'm never
really sure of my decisions. As I have grown older I've realized that
there aren't necessarily "right" and "wrong" decisions, and that even
a decision made with the best intentions can be bad in the end.
Experience has done little to increase my confidence. I still feel my
judgement isn't the best. That's why I still work for someone else -
worked, that is. Not now.
Lord Haldir says that one must recognize one's weaknesses in order to
overcome them, and he seems to take some perverse pleasure in pointing
mine out to me. It would be less frustrating if he wasn't so smug
about it, and a lot less irritating if he wasn't right. Insecurity is
not one of Lord Haldir's weaknesses, that much I AM sure of. I'm
almost convinced that he doesn't have any weaknesses at all.
An uncanny ability to read people: I think that is his greatest
strength. I have never felt the need to develop a poker face before,
and now I guess it's too late to start.
He had not reappeared last night after he dismissed Lindir and me on
the terrace of the Great Hall, and I was growing anxious to talk to
him. The elf led us back past the Great Hall, up along a stream that
fed into the river, and across to wait at a broad garden terrace in
front of Lord Haldir's study: not the council chambers behind the
Great Hall, but his personal study.
Waiting, I looked away from the stream and down several steps and
bridges, and found that my own rooms were not far away. I hadn't
realized that I had been so honored in the location of my talan;
honored, or kept a good eye on, I thought as I noticed the two armed
sentries at the terrace doors.
Lindir elbowed me and I looked back to see that Lord Haldir had
appeared, not from within the study, but striding up through a vine-
heavy pergola on the stream side of the terrace.
His heavy, fluid hair was braided as before and a light woven circlet
of silver rested on his brow. He was less formally dressed, in black
boots and tights, with a dark grayish-blue tunic of some exquisite
fabric that fit and flattered his broad, tall form and emphasized his
dark eyes to perfection. I wonder if I will ever become unaffected by
the sight of him. I doubt it.
He showed us in through the glass terrace doors and immediately took
to discussing warden rotations with Lindir. Waiting, I looked at his
study: Orderly, neat, somewhat austere but quite tasteful; books and
maps filed with precision but quickly retrievable; simply carved dark
wooden furniture of beautiful lines with the patina of both age and
polish, a desk with no clutter and a vase of fragrant green-white
flowers not as incongruous as one would think with the military
feeling of the room; golden armor and weapons on the wall - antique? -
of fine design, polished to a fine gleam and looking like they could
be brought down this moment and they would still be supple and sharp.
It was the room of one who had refined life and work to its most
essential elements, but remembered to include its beauty. I imagine
the armor must be Lord Haldir's; it looks as though it would fit him.
I believe I was too busy imagining how he would look in it to have
noticed that Lindir had left, until Lord Haldir was at my elbow
offering me a glass of wine. He had been remiss in not finishing the
toast last night at dinner, so he would do so now. To fidelity, love,
and life, he said, holding my eyes with his for a long moment over the
rim of his glass.
I had a fleeting moment of deja-vu, something about the way he handled
his goblet, when he moved to make that toast.
It was complex - the wine, I mean - a wine-lover's wine, and I closed
my eyes to experience it: a deep, dry red with an intriguing aroma, a
strong, rich flavor, and a full-bodied, intricate, somewhat oaky
finish as it slid down the throat. It was berry wine, he said when I
opened my eyes again and found him studying my face. Blackberries,
salmonberries, huckleberries, whatever the elves were able to gather
from the forest.
I asked him how he made it, and he promised to show me later. But
now, he said, growing quite grave, we must discuss your promise. And
he went to the terrace doors and closed them.
He showed me to a chair at a broad table, then fluidly sat across from
me and set down his glass, turning it slowly by the stem. What
beautiful hands he has, like the hands of a piano player: Wide,
strong palms; long, elegantly supple, muscular fingers. Hands that
could pick up and cradle a delicate moth without damaging it, but
hands that I imagine could crush in an instant, like steel.
What had I observed today, he asked, and I guessed that he wasn't
asking for a list of where Lindir had taken me.
I have seen, I answered slowly, that the elves live in harmony with
the earth, as Lindir has told me. Every daily act, every made object,
every process follows and enhances nature. It is amazing. But I only
understand a little of what I have seen - there are so many different
things to learn.
"Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail
you."
He was quoting someone. Somewhere I had heard these words before. He
looked at me expectantly, his fingers now still on the stem of the
goblet.
Frank Lloyd Wright! I exclaimed, touched that he knew something of
"mortal" architecture.
He nodded his head slightly and began to turn the glass again. He
told me that as an architect I had refined my innate creativity and
sensitivity to my surroundings, the love of nature that they had
observed in me. I was passionate about employing these gifts. And I
was intelligent; I learned quickly. This they had also observed.
I wondered how long they had watched me, and how, before I took my
vacation in the woods. It made me uncomfortable.
And learn you must, as you promised, he reminded me. Most
importantly, he emphasized, I must learn to use the gift I was to be
given wisely.
What is the gift, Lord Haldir, I asked, and held my breath.
"The gift." he responded, and raised his goblet to drink from it once
more, his eyes continuing to measure me over his glass, then slowly
set it down again on the table. "The gift is knowledge, Marian. The
gift is Methentaurond itself."
I looked at him in shock, steadied my wine glass with both hands and
carefully set it down on the table.
"For Man to be given dominion over every living thing upon Arda does
not mean that Man should disrespect it, or be discordant with it.
This", he said, "you must repair. You must use this gift to change
the world of Men. It may be your last chance; it is our last effort."
I stood up and walked shakily over to the terrace doors, looking out
into the caverns. I must change the world, I repeated in distress.
Haldir, I protested, forgetting to use his title, I'm not capable of
learning everything there is to learn here, of keeping this going;
I'm not a botanist, or a sociobiologist, or a. . . I'm not a
leader, or a statesman. . . I'm not someone who knows how to
manipulate the government or, or who is powerful enough to change the
direction of a whole society! What you're asking me to do is
impossible! Why only me? I turned and demanded in panic. Why did you
choose me?
"I did not choose you," he said pointedly, rising to cross the room
and stand towering over me. "Your coming to us was foretold long ago.
We watched, and waited. Now, in our final hour have we found you."
Foretold by whom? Found by whom? How long have you waited? I asked.
I felt trapped by the room, trapped by his energy and his wise,
ancient eyes.
His gaze grew distant with memory. "It has been ten thousand years
since the last ships carried the Lady of Light to Valinor. It was she
who told me of your coming, as she departed into the West."
I was speechless.
Then he turned away from me and lovingly touched the flowers on his
desk.
"Ai! Laurie lantar lassi surinen,
yeni unotime ve ramar aldaron!"*
His deep, melodic voice was full of remembrance and longing. Then he
repeated it for me: "Ah! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long
years numberless as the wings of trees!"
Who was she, Haldir, I asked hesitantly. I could feel a tinge of
jealousy, which I felt guilty for. Who was I to be jealous? I could
be nothing to him. Clearly, he wouldn't want me to even be here, if
he had the choice.
"Galadriel, Lady of Lothlorien," he replied, his voice low and
reverent. "wisest of all the Eldar who came to the East from Valinor.
Her image, and Lord Celeborn's you have seen."
In the carving on the entrance doors, I ventured, remembering the
unusual trees, and he nodded. Where is Lothlorien?
Walking across the room to consider the armor on the wall, he said,
"The struggle against darkness most often carries a heavy price. Much
that was good, was lost.
What remains," he said and confronted me once more, "must be
protected. This task now falls to you."
And this displeases you, I said.
"In fact I do not see the wisdom of the choice, adaneth," he stated
plainly. "But I do not question the will of the Valar."
Adaneth? You called me that outside, at the doors. What does it
mean?
He asked me to remember the Followers that Lindir had told me about,
the ones whose island close to the Undying Lands was destroyed by the
Valar. Those Men that remained faithful, he said, were warned of the
island's destruction. They were allowed to escape by ship, and made
their way to the shores of Arda. From these people, these Dunedain,
followed may great kings of Men through the ages. I, Lord Haldir
said, was one of their few remaining descendants.
And somehow, I asked him, being the great granddaughter to the
umpteenth degree of old friends of yours qualifies me for this? Just
because I'm remotely related to people who did great things doesn't
mean I can do great things! Look at the Kings of England, for God's
sake!
"On this we are agreed. The bloodline is now so weak as to be
meaningless. . ."
That's not what I meant, I interrupted.
". . . But you must do great things nonetheless. The greatest
truth I have ever heard, adaneth, is this:" and here he placed both
hands firmly on my shoulders and looked at me earnestly, "Even the
smallest person can change the course of the future."
But I can't do this by myself, I protested, still trying to take in
what he was asking me to do.
"No, you cannot. Therefore, once you have learned what you need to
here, you will go back to your people and choose those that can help
you, those that can hold Methentaurond secret until we have gone. You
will lead them here, and we will teach them."
So you finally trust me; you would trust me to do this, I said. You
would risk me leaving, risk me revealing your existence to the world,
risk me bringing a group of complete strangers into your midst that
you may NOT be able to trust?
You have given me your word, have you not, he challenged me.
You can trust my word, Lord Haldir, but perhaps not my abilities.
What if I choose badly? What if I can't talk them into coming? I
can't talk anybody into anything. I don't inspire people: I can't
even get my dog to do what I tell him to! I didn't even have the guts
to start my own business! I'm not a leader!
"I am responsible for the safety of Methentaurond, Marian. You are
responsible only to choose and lead your people here.
Lack of self-confidence is your greatest weakness. To succeed, you
must be absolutely clear about what you want to accomplish, absolutely
confident of your choices. But leaders are not born, they are made.
And the task of making you a leader, he said somewhat scathingly, has
fallen to me.
You can accomplish whatever you set out to do: we have seen this.
You only need admit to yourself that you want it. Tell me that you
want this, Marian."
The air in the room felt suddenly heavy; the fragrance from the
flowers overwhelming. I went back to the table and retrieved my
goblet, downing most of the rest of the wine. I was giving myself
time to screw up my courage.
I want this, I said to him, handing him the almost empty goblet.
He reached for the goblet with one hand, but instead of taking it from
me, he startled me by closing his hand over mine on its stem. His
hand radiated strength and power, and I found myself holding my
breath. Holding my gaze, he raised the goblet and my hand to his
lips, swallowing the last of my wine. Some sacrament had passed
between us, I thought, as he lowered my hand and the goblet to the
table and slowly released his hold on me.
"Then follow me," he ordered as he opened one of the terrace doors
with a flourish.
Where are we going? I asked.
To visit your dog, was his brief reply.
* * * * *
Walking to the stables gave me time to think; not about Methentaurond,
but about this elf I was following and my almost out-of-control
emotions concerning him.
Before Kevin's death, I always valued the luxury of brief moments of
time by myself. After Kevin died and my children had grown and moved
away, I felt truly, miserably alone. Wherever anyone else was, it was
more interesting than where I was. When I was around other people, I
felt like an outsider. Others were loving and enjoying life, and I
felt left behind. I can see now that I had not been truly engaged in
where I was or what I was doing for a very long time. I had made a
couple of foolish mistakes with men early on, but no one could live up
to Kevin. I stopped going out. Friends at work were just that - work
friends - if I moved on they would fade away. Except for Jason, I
hoped. Jason had saved me from loneliness.
Not until I saw this elf shining in the moonlight over the Linluin
have I been so deeply attracted to another man. It isn't the novelty
of being an elf; Lindir and some of the others are, perhaps, even
fairer than he, but I feel no attraction to them other than an
artistic appreciation of their beauty and wisdom. And it is not only
physical. I believe now that his drive, his ambition, his pride is
for his people, not for his own ego gratification. As each of these
few days have passed, each time I see small hints of the heart inside
the carefully constructed façade, my attraction to him, and my respect
for him, grows more powerful.
I realize now that there is no other place on earth that I would
rather be than where I am right now, in his presence.
I'm surprised at myself. He sees that I am drawn to him; I know he
reads it in my face. Yet, his lack of reaction tells me that my
feelings, what I say and do are so predictable, so shallow as to be
unimportant, not worthy of comment.
This elf doesn't like me or trust me. He has made it obvious that he
resents being stuck with me. Yet still I can't deny what I feel.
I will only end up hurting myself, I know. Why him? Why now? He is
an elf; he is leaving. He cares nothing for me. This is hopeless,
foolish. I need to guard my heart.
* * * * *
I have survived my dog training session with Lord Haldir.
At first Bruno was glad to see me, but once I let him off of his
leash, he took off as usual. I called him again and again, and as
usual he ignored me. Naturally, the first time Lord Haldir called him
he came at once.
"You call him as if you are asking to be his friend. You are his
master, not his friend."
So to be a leader I must have not friends? Haldir, everyone needs a
friend.
"Every leader has an advisor, who is more than a friend, and less."
Who is your advisor, Haldir? I have seen no one in this capacity for
you since I have been here.
"My brother is my advisor, of sorts. He is now away from
Methentaurond but should return shortly.
Now, call him again."
Bruno, come! I tried again more forcefully.
"Now you sound as though you intend to punish him. You simply expect
his obedience. Again."
I don't have a brother, or a sister. Bruno, come! Amazingly he came,
but veered off with a mischievous leap when I reached out to him. He
thinks I'm going to put him back on the leash, I explained.
"He must learn that to obey does not necessarily mean to give up one's
freedom, but to obey has its own rewards. Persist, and he will learn
to respect you. Heed my words, and remember: It is much more
difficult, Marian, to regain respect that has been lost, than to
inspire and keep respect in the beginning.
Lindir tells me that you have a good friend," he said, nodding to the
ring around my neck.
Does Lindir tell you everything that I say to him, I asked in
exasperation, and received a wry look in return. Of course he does, I
thought. It's his job.
Yes, I said, and smiled, picturing Jason. I have the very best of
friends.
"Then bring him back with you, this Jason. Or, will he also be more
than an advisor? A lover, perhaps."
Oh, no, I laughed, though I thought the question rather bold. No,
that would ruin everything.
"Why?" he asked seriously, and motioned for us to sit down.
"Because I'm a Taurus. I like stability. Jason is a free spirit.
"Ah, astrology. Do you believe in it?"
No, not really, for predicting fate and such. But there do seem to be
patterns in people's personalities that it runs true for. Then again,
my husband was an Aries, and Taurus and Aries are not supposed to get
along at all. But we did get along quite well for a very long time.
"So what did you do to tame this fiery man, your Aries?"
I didn't do anything, I said, fondly remembering Kevin's
steadfastness, his passion, his loyalty. He tamed himself for me.
"Were you true to him?"
That is none of your business! I said icily and jumped up to face
him. I had had enough of all of the too-personal questions he seemed
to think were his right to ask, while revealing little in return, and
I was suddenly insulted and angry.
"I have to know, Marian, if you are a woman who keeps your promises.
I would not invade your privacy otherwise."
You've already asked me this, many times, I protested, hurt.
Yes, I was, if you have to know, I said reluctantly and angrily at
last when he remained silent. I didn't want him to think I wasn't
answering him for the wrong reasons.
You must realize that my answer might tell you more about my husband
than it does about me, I cautioned.
He bowed his head slightly in agreement of this possibility.
Raising my chin in defiance of the hurt I felt at his words, I added
that I had given him my word and I would keep it, that's all the more
he needed to know. Don't ask me any more personal questions about my
marriage, or my children, I demanded. I won't answer.
Still angry, I left him seated on the bench and stepped away to try
and talk some sense into Bruno. Lord Haldir didn't follow me. I'm
sure he was giving me some time to calm down.
Your good friend Jason, your free spirit, what "sign" is he?" he
eventually asked me from the bench.
I let him sit for as long as I dared without answering him, then
decided that I was acting childish.
I don't know which one is for his birthday, although if I had to
guess, I would say Sagittarius, I said when I finally turned back to
him once more.
At this, a brief smile broke across Haldir's face, the first I had
ever seen. If I had known how it would transform his face, how it
would reveal the boy inside the man, how this simple half-smile would
wash away my anger, melt my heart. . . Then, as quickly as it had
come, it disappeared.
"And you," I asked, not willing to let the moment pass, if I had to
guess, Haldir, Lord of Methentaurond, captain of the Galadrim, warrior
of great renown. . . "
"I see Lindir has not been remiss in regaling you with our histories.
. . "
I would guess an Aries as well.
"You would be correct."
So, I took another chance and asked, proud of my growing elvish
vocabulary of exactly four words, what qualities in an elleth would he
tame himself for?
He rose and approached me, frowning.
"Astrology is a child's toy. Men use it to rationalize the influence
of the stars. To the Elves they are more, much more. They are our
dreams, our future, Elbereth's first gift to us and we love them
dearly. They are our pathway home.
Bring this friend with you. You will have need for an advisor. Now,
I believe your dog is returning once more. Call him."
* * * * *
After about an hour with Bruno, we returned to the Great Hall for
dinner. The food was similar to what had been prepared the night
before but with the substitution of venison for poultry. It was
delicious, but I was starting to crave a cheeseburger and fries.
There were many familiar faces from the night before, but Lindir was
not present, and some of the elves were unfamiliar. Orodren sat near
me again, and informed me that anyone could choose to dine in the
Great Hall, or prepare a meal on their own in their home. One had
only to inform the Chef of the Hall by mid-morning of one's
intentions. As Orodren had no mate, he dined in the hall regularly
unless he was on warden duty. Lindir had chosen to dine with his
family tonight.
I wondered how I would find Lindir in order to visit Carro with him,
but shortly after the meal had concluded he appeared to escort me back
to Carro's talan, where we also found Allinde as before. We talked
quietly together for a short time - Carro's condition was much as it
had been the night before - and then we returned to the Great Hall to
listen to the elves sing, and for Lindir to tell a tale, sometimes
sung and sometimes told, of another event in the history of the elves.
Again I saw that Lord Haldir had excused himself from the gathering,
being nowhere about.
Tonight, Lindir said, looking pointedly at me, at Lord Haldir's
request he would begin the tale of the Silmarillion, which would be
several nights in the telling.
As I listened to Lindir tell of the mystical making of the Silmaril by
Feanor, the capturing of the light of the Two Trees of Valinor in
those three fabulous jewels, and of Feanor's growing obsession with
them, I wondered if this wasn't Haldir's way of telling me that only
Iluvatar himself was perfect, and that even though he claimed that men
were much, much weaker spiritually than the elves, the elves sometimes
suffered from the same weaknesses.
He never fails to surprise me, to throw me off balance. Just when I
think I'm sure of his opinion of how perfect his own kind is, he shows
me their flaws, in a roundabout way. I must make no assumptions about
this complex, compelling elf.
*Namarie (The Farewell), Galadriel's Lament in Lorien, Lord of the Rings, Vol. 1, p. 394.
* * * * * THE TALE OF MARIAN
CHAPTER 11 - TO FIDELITY, LOVE, AND LIFE
6 September
Was it only two days ago that I entered Methentaurond? It seems like
a lifetime ago. Everything is different now. The path I have begun
to walk is different than before; I am different than before. Or
perhaps now I am finally finding out who I am. Whether that will be
enough or not, I don't know.
I'm scared, though. I don't know if I can do this. Lord Haldir is
right: Insecurity has always been my greatest weakness. I'm never
really sure of my decisions. As I have grown older I've realized that
there aren't necessarily "right" and "wrong" decisions, and that even
a decision made with the best intentions can be bad in the end.
Experience has done little to increase my confidence. I still feel my
judgement isn't the best. That's why I still work for someone else -
worked, that is. Not now.
Lord Haldir says that one must recognize one's weaknesses in order to
overcome them, and he seems to take some perverse pleasure in pointing
mine out to me. It would be less frustrating if he wasn't so smug
about it, and a lot less irritating if he wasn't right. Insecurity is
not one of Lord Haldir's weaknesses, that much I AM sure of. I'm
almost convinced that he doesn't have any weaknesses at all.
An uncanny ability to read people: I think that is his greatest
strength. I have never felt the need to develop a poker face before,
and now I guess it's too late to start.
He had not reappeared last night after he dismissed Lindir and me on
the terrace of the Great Hall, and I was growing anxious to talk to
him. The elf led us back past the Great Hall, up along a stream that
fed into the river, and across to wait at a broad garden terrace in
front of Lord Haldir's study: not the council chambers behind the
Great Hall, but his personal study.
Waiting, I looked away from the stream and down several steps and
bridges, and found that my own rooms were not far away. I hadn't
realized that I had been so honored in the location of my talan;
honored, or kept a good eye on, I thought as I noticed the two armed
sentries at the terrace doors.
Lindir elbowed me and I looked back to see that Lord Haldir had
appeared, not from within the study, but striding up through a vine-
heavy pergola on the stream side of the terrace.
His heavy, fluid hair was braided as before and a light woven circlet
of silver rested on his brow. He was less formally dressed, in black
boots and tights, with a dark grayish-blue tunic of some exquisite
fabric that fit and flattered his broad, tall form and emphasized his
dark eyes to perfection. I wonder if I will ever become unaffected by
the sight of him. I doubt it.
He showed us in through the glass terrace doors and immediately took
to discussing warden rotations with Lindir. Waiting, I looked at his
study: Orderly, neat, somewhat austere but quite tasteful; books and
maps filed with precision but quickly retrievable; simply carved dark
wooden furniture of beautiful lines with the patina of both age and
polish, a desk with no clutter and a vase of fragrant green-white
flowers not as incongruous as one would think with the military
feeling of the room; golden armor and weapons on the wall - antique? -
of fine design, polished to a fine gleam and looking like they could
be brought down this moment and they would still be supple and sharp.
It was the room of one who had refined life and work to its most
essential elements, but remembered to include its beauty. I imagine
the armor must be Lord Haldir's; it looks as though it would fit him.
I believe I was too busy imagining how he would look in it to have
noticed that Lindir had left, until Lord Haldir was at my elbow
offering me a glass of wine. He had been remiss in not finishing the
toast last night at dinner, so he would do so now. To fidelity, love,
and life, he said, holding my eyes with his for a long moment over the
rim of his glass.
I had a fleeting moment of deja-vu, something about the way he handled
his goblet, when he moved to make that toast.
It was complex - the wine, I mean - a wine-lover's wine, and I closed
my eyes to experience it: a deep, dry red with an intriguing aroma, a
strong, rich flavor, and a full-bodied, intricate, somewhat oaky
finish as it slid down the throat. It was berry wine, he said when I
opened my eyes again and found him studying my face. Blackberries,
salmonberries, huckleberries, whatever the elves were able to gather
from the forest.
I asked him how he made it, and he promised to show me later. But
now, he said, growing quite grave, we must discuss your promise. And
he went to the terrace doors and closed them.
He showed me to a chair at a broad table, then fluidly sat across from
me and set down his glass, turning it slowly by the stem. What
beautiful hands he has, like the hands of a piano player: Wide,
strong palms; long, elegantly supple, muscular fingers. Hands that
could pick up and cradle a delicate moth without damaging it, but
hands that I imagine could crush in an instant, like steel.
What had I observed today, he asked, and I guessed that he wasn't
asking for a list of where Lindir had taken me.
I have seen, I answered slowly, that the elves live in harmony with
the earth, as Lindir has told me. Every daily act, every made object,
every process follows and enhances nature. It is amazing. But I only
understand a little of what I have seen - there are so many different
things to learn.
"Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail
you."
He was quoting someone. Somewhere I had heard these words before. He
looked at me expectantly, his fingers now still on the stem of the
goblet.
Frank Lloyd Wright! I exclaimed, touched that he knew something of
"mortal" architecture.
He nodded his head slightly and began to turn the glass again. He
told me that as an architect I had refined my innate creativity and
sensitivity to my surroundings, the love of nature that they had
observed in me. I was passionate about employing these gifts. And I
was intelligent; I learned quickly. This they had also observed.
I wondered how long they had watched me, and how, before I took my
vacation in the woods. It made me uncomfortable.
And learn you must, as you promised, he reminded me. Most
importantly, he emphasized, I must learn to use the gift I was to be
given wisely.
What is the gift, Lord Haldir, I asked, and held my breath.
"The gift." he responded, and raised his goblet to drink from it once
more, his eyes continuing to measure me over his glass, then slowly
set it down again on the table. "The gift is knowledge, Marian. The
gift is Methentaurond itself."
I looked at him in shock, steadied my wine glass with both hands and
carefully set it down on the table.
"For Man to be given dominion over every living thing upon Arda does
not mean that Man should disrespect it, or be discordant with it.
This", he said, "you must repair. You must use this gift to change
the world of Men. It may be your last chance; it is our last effort."
I stood up and walked shakily over to the terrace doors, looking out
into the caverns. I must change the world, I repeated in distress.
Haldir, I protested, forgetting to use his title, I'm not capable of
learning everything there is to learn here, of keeping this going;
I'm not a botanist, or a sociobiologist, or a. . . I'm not a
leader, or a statesman. . . I'm not someone who knows how to
manipulate the government or, or who is powerful enough to change the
direction of a whole society! What you're asking me to do is
impossible! Why only me? I turned and demanded in panic. Why did you
choose me?
"I did not choose you," he said pointedly, rising to cross the room
and stand towering over me. "Your coming to us was foretold long ago.
We watched, and waited. Now, in our final hour have we found you."
Foretold by whom? Found by whom? How long have you waited? I asked.
I felt trapped by the room, trapped by his energy and his wise,
ancient eyes.
His gaze grew distant with memory. "It has been ten thousand years
since the last ships carried the Lady of Light to Valinor. It was she
who told me of your coming, as she departed into the West."
I was speechless.
Then he turned away from me and lovingly touched the flowers on his
desk.
"Ai! Laurie lantar lassi surinen,
yeni unotime ve ramar aldaron!"*
His deep, melodic voice was full of remembrance and longing. Then he
repeated it for me: "Ah! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long
years numberless as the wings of trees!"
Who was she, Haldir, I asked hesitantly. I could feel a tinge of
jealousy, which I felt guilty for. Who was I to be jealous? I could
be nothing to him. Clearly, he wouldn't want me to even be here, if
he had the choice.
"Galadriel, Lady of Lothlorien," he replied, his voice low and
reverent. "wisest of all the Eldar who came to the East from Valinor.
Her image, and Lord Celeborn's you have seen."
In the carving on the entrance doors, I ventured, remembering the
unusual trees, and he nodded. Where is Lothlorien?
Walking across the room to consider the armor on the wall, he said,
"The struggle against darkness most often carries a heavy price. Much
that was good, was lost.
What remains," he said and confronted me once more, "must be
protected. This task now falls to you."
And this displeases you, I said.
"In fact I do not see the wisdom of the choice, adaneth," he stated
plainly. "But I do not question the will of the Valar."
Adaneth? You called me that outside, at the doors. What does it
mean?
He asked me to remember the Followers that Lindir had told me about,
the ones whose island close to the Undying Lands was destroyed by the
Valar. Those Men that remained faithful, he said, were warned of the
island's destruction. They were allowed to escape by ship, and made
their way to the shores of Arda. From these people, these Dunedain,
followed may great kings of Men through the ages. I, Lord Haldir
said, was one of their few remaining descendants.
And somehow, I asked him, being the great granddaughter to the
umpteenth degree of old friends of yours qualifies me for this? Just
because I'm remotely related to people who did great things doesn't
mean I can do great things! Look at the Kings of England, for God's
sake!
"On this we are agreed. The bloodline is now so weak as to be
meaningless. . ."
That's not what I meant, I interrupted.
". . . But you must do great things nonetheless. The greatest
truth I have ever heard, adaneth, is this:" and here he placed both
hands firmly on my shoulders and looked at me earnestly, "Even the
smallest person can change the course of the future."
But I can't do this by myself, I protested, still trying to take in
what he was asking me to do.
"No, you cannot. Therefore, once you have learned what you need to
here, you will go back to your people and choose those that can help
you, those that can hold Methentaurond secret until we have gone. You
will lead them here, and we will teach them."
So you finally trust me; you would trust me to do this, I said. You
would risk me leaving, risk me revealing your existence to the world,
risk me bringing a group of complete strangers into your midst that
you may NOT be able to trust?
You have given me your word, have you not, he challenged me.
You can trust my word, Lord Haldir, but perhaps not my abilities.
What if I choose badly? What if I can't talk them into coming? I
can't talk anybody into anything. I don't inspire people: I can't
even get my dog to do what I tell him to! I didn't even have the guts
to start my own business! I'm not a leader!
"I am responsible for the safety of Methentaurond, Marian. You are
responsible only to choose and lead your people here.
Lack of self-confidence is your greatest weakness. To succeed, you
must be absolutely clear about what you want to accomplish, absolutely
confident of your choices. But leaders are not born, they are made.
And the task of making you a leader, he said somewhat scathingly, has
fallen to me.
You can accomplish whatever you set out to do: we have seen this.
You only need admit to yourself that you want it. Tell me that you
want this, Marian."
The air in the room felt suddenly heavy; the fragrance from the
flowers overwhelming. I went back to the table and retrieved my
goblet, downing most of the rest of the wine. I was giving myself
time to screw up my courage.
I want this, I said to him, handing him the almost empty goblet.
He reached for the goblet with one hand, but instead of taking it from
me, he startled me by closing his hand over mine on its stem. His
hand radiated strength and power, and I found myself holding my
breath. Holding my gaze, he raised the goblet and my hand to his
lips, swallowing the last of my wine. Some sacrament had passed
between us, I thought, as he lowered my hand and the goblet to the
table and slowly released his hold on me.
"Then follow me," he ordered as he opened one of the terrace doors
with a flourish.
Where are we going? I asked.
To visit your dog, was his brief reply.
* * * * *
Walking to the stables gave me time to think; not about Methentaurond,
but about this elf I was following and my almost out-of-control
emotions concerning him.
Before Kevin's death, I always valued the luxury of brief moments of
time by myself. After Kevin died and my children had grown and moved
away, I felt truly, miserably alone. Wherever anyone else was, it was
more interesting than where I was. When I was around other people, I
felt like an outsider. Others were loving and enjoying life, and I
felt left behind. I can see now that I had not been truly engaged in
where I was or what I was doing for a very long time. I had made a
couple of foolish mistakes with men early on, but no one could live up
to Kevin. I stopped going out. Friends at work were just that - work
friends - if I moved on they would fade away. Except for Jason, I
hoped. Jason had saved me from loneliness.
Not until I saw this elf shining in the moonlight over the Linluin
have I been so deeply attracted to another man. It isn't the novelty
of being an elf; Lindir and some of the others are, perhaps, even
fairer than he, but I feel no attraction to them other than an
artistic appreciation of their beauty and wisdom. And it is not only
physical. I believe now that his drive, his ambition, his pride is
for his people, not for his own ego gratification. As each of these
few days have passed, each time I see small hints of the heart inside
the carefully constructed façade, my attraction to him, and my respect
for him, grows more powerful.
I realize now that there is no other place on earth that I would
rather be than where I am right now, in his presence.
I'm surprised at myself. He sees that I am drawn to him; I know he
reads it in my face. Yet, his lack of reaction tells me that my
feelings, what I say and do are so predictable, so shallow as to be
unimportant, not worthy of comment.
This elf doesn't like me or trust me. He has made it obvious that he
resents being stuck with me. Yet still I can't deny what I feel.
I will only end up hurting myself, I know. Why him? Why now? He is
an elf; he is leaving. He cares nothing for me. This is hopeless,
foolish. I need to guard my heart.
* * * * *
I have survived my dog training session with Lord Haldir.
At first Bruno was glad to see me, but once I let him off of his
leash, he took off as usual. I called him again and again, and as
usual he ignored me. Naturally, the first time Lord Haldir called him
he came at once.
"You call him as if you are asking to be his friend. You are his
master, not his friend."
So to be a leader I must have not friends? Haldir, everyone needs a
friend.
"Every leader has an advisor, who is more than a friend, and less."
Who is your advisor, Haldir? I have seen no one in this capacity for
you since I have been here.
"My brother is my advisor, of sorts. He is now away from
Methentaurond but should return shortly.
Now, call him again."
Bruno, come! I tried again more forcefully.
"Now you sound as though you intend to punish him. You simply expect
his obedience. Again."
I don't have a brother, or a sister. Bruno, come! Amazingly he came,
but veered off with a mischievous leap when I reached out to him. He
thinks I'm going to put him back on the leash, I explained.
"He must learn that to obey does not necessarily mean to give up one's
freedom, but to obey has its own rewards. Persist, and he will learn
to respect you. Heed my words, and remember: It is much more
difficult, Marian, to regain respect that has been lost, than to
inspire and keep respect in the beginning.
Lindir tells me that you have a good friend," he said, nodding to the
ring around my neck.
Does Lindir tell you everything that I say to him, I asked in
exasperation, and received a wry look in return. Of course he does, I
thought. It's his job.
Yes, I said, and smiled, picturing Jason. I have the very best of
friends.
"Then bring him back with you, this Jason. Or, will he also be more
than an advisor? A lover, perhaps."
Oh, no, I laughed, though I thought the question rather bold. No,
that would ruin everything.
"Why?" he asked seriously, and motioned for us to sit down.
"Because I'm a Taurus. I like stability. Jason is a free spirit.
"Ah, astrology. Do you believe in it?"
No, not really, for predicting fate and such. But there do seem to be
patterns in people's personalities that it runs true for. Then again,
my husband was an Aries, and Taurus and Aries are not supposed to get
along at all. But we did get along quite well for a very long time.
"So what did you do to tame this fiery man, your Aries?"
I didn't do anything, I said, fondly remembering Kevin's
steadfastness, his passion, his loyalty. He tamed himself for me.
"Were you true to him?"
That is none of your business! I said icily and jumped up to face
him. I had had enough of all of the too-personal questions he seemed
to think were his right to ask, while revealing little in return, and
I was suddenly insulted and angry.
"I have to know, Marian, if you are a woman who keeps your promises.
I would not invade your privacy otherwise."
You've already asked me this, many times, I protested, hurt.
Yes, I was, if you have to know, I said reluctantly and angrily at
last when he remained silent. I didn't want him to think I wasn't
answering him for the wrong reasons.
You must realize that my answer might tell you more about my husband
than it does about me, I cautioned.
He bowed his head slightly in agreement of this possibility.
Raising my chin in defiance of the hurt I felt at his words, I added
that I had given him my word and I would keep it, that's all the more
he needed to know. Don't ask me any more personal questions about my
marriage, or my children, I demanded. I won't answer.
Still angry, I left him seated on the bench and stepped away to try
and talk some sense into Bruno. Lord Haldir didn't follow me. I'm
sure he was giving me some time to calm down.
Your good friend Jason, your free spirit, what "sign" is he?" he
eventually asked me from the bench.
I let him sit for as long as I dared without answering him, then
decided that I was acting childish.
I don't know which one is for his birthday, although if I had to
guess, I would say Sagittarius, I said when I finally turned back to
him once more.
At this, a brief smile broke across Haldir's face, the first I had
ever seen. If I had known how it would transform his face, how it
would reveal the boy inside the man, how this simple half-smile would
wash away my anger, melt my heart. . . Then, as quickly as it had
come, it disappeared.
"And you," I asked, not willing to let the moment pass, if I had to
guess, Haldir, Lord of Methentaurond, captain of the Galadrim, warrior
of great renown. . . "
"I see Lindir has not been remiss in regaling you with our histories.
. . "
I would guess an Aries as well.
"You would be correct."
So, I took another chance and asked, proud of my growing elvish
vocabulary of exactly four words, what qualities in an elleth would he
tame himself for?
He rose and approached me, frowning.
"Astrology is a child's toy. Men use it to rationalize the influence
of the stars. To the Elves they are more, much more. They are our
dreams, our future, Elbereth's first gift to us and we love them
dearly. They are our pathway home.
Bring this friend with you. You will have need for an advisor. Now,
I believe your dog is returning once more. Call him."
* * * * *
After about an hour with Bruno, we returned to the Great Hall for
dinner. The food was similar to what had been prepared the night
before but with the substitution of venison for poultry. It was
delicious, but I was starting to crave a cheeseburger and fries.
There were many familiar faces from the night before, but Lindir was
not present, and some of the elves were unfamiliar. Orodren sat near
me again, and informed me that anyone could choose to dine in the
Great Hall, or prepare a meal on their own in their home. One had
only to inform the Chef of the Hall by mid-morning of one's
intentions. As Orodren had no mate, he dined in the hall regularly
unless he was on warden duty. Lindir had chosen to dine with his
family tonight.
I wondered how I would find Lindir in order to visit Carro with him,
but shortly after the meal had concluded he appeared to escort me back
to Carro's talan, where we also found Allinde as before. We talked
quietly together for a short time - Carro's condition was much as it
had been the night before - and then we returned to the Great Hall to
listen to the elves sing, and for Lindir to tell a tale, sometimes
sung and sometimes told, of another event in the history of the elves.
Again I saw that Lord Haldir had excused himself from the gathering,
being nowhere about.
Tonight, Lindir said, looking pointedly at me, at Lord Haldir's
request he would begin the tale of the Silmarillion, which would be
several nights in the telling.
As I listened to Lindir tell of the mystical making of the Silmaril by
Feanor, the capturing of the light of the Two Trees of Valinor in
those three fabulous jewels, and of Feanor's growing obsession with
them, I wondered if this wasn't Haldir's way of telling me that only
Iluvatar himself was perfect, and that even though he claimed that men
were much, much weaker spiritually than the elves, the elves sometimes
suffered from the same weaknesses.
He never fails to surprise me, to throw me off balance. Just when I
think I'm sure of his opinion of how perfect his own kind is, he shows
me their flaws, in a roundabout way. I must make no assumptions about
this complex, compelling elf.
*Namarie (The Farewell), Galadriel's Lament in Lorien, Lord of the Rings, Vol. 1, p. 394.