Title: The Tale of Marian
Chapter: 15/?
Rating: PG this chapter.
Pairing: OFC/Haldir
Genre: Adventure/Romance/perhaps a little Angst
Timeline: AU, modern times.
Beta: Kara Tanner
Feedback: Welcomed, begged for, appreciated.
Warnings: None.
Author's Note: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
* * * * * THE TALE OF MARIAN
CHAPTER 15 – Days of Future Passed*
15 September
We have found a new reference to a Palantir! An elf returning to
Methentaurond from "outside," as I am beginning to think of the rest
of the world, brought a book back to Allinde last night. It was in
elvish, of course. I have been true to my word to Allinde - I am
learning the language terribly slowly, and can read and speak little.
But the words "Palantir Elendil" sprang out at me from the yellowed
and fragile pages, and I called Allinde immediately to my side.
The book was the journal of an elf whose travels had taken him to the
Gray Havens. He had turned aside along the way to climb the Tower
Hills and gaze into the Stone. In great excitement Allinde read the
lone paragraph that mentioned the elf-stone:
"Elostirion - as a pilgrim I ascend the heights of your winding
stairs, higher and higher, each step a prayer to the Valar. Like
an eagle I rise through the drifting clouds to your gleaming
parapets and behold in the distance the wide blue sea, sparkling
like diamonds in Anor's brilliant light, gulls calling in an
endless ocean of bold blue sky. Elendil's Stone lay, a dark and
mysterious jewel, in the bosom of your lofty marble heights,
safe in the keeping of the High Elves of Lindon, Lord Cirdan
wise and strong. Into its swirling depths in timeless thought I
gaze, blessed by a vision of your pure white shores, oh Valinor.
Now I rest, yet ere Ríw** comes I will take the grey ship and
follow, for seeing you, oh blessed land of Elbereth, I am called
home across the wide sea!"
So Cirdan was keeper of the Stone of Elendil! exclaimed Allinde. Of
course, she said, pacing back and forth and slapping her forehead with
her hand, why had I not thought of that? And it is said that Cirdan
did not leave the Gray Havens for the Undying Lands until the end of
the Third Age. I wonder if he still had it then, and if he took it
with him?
I asked Allinde where the Gray Havens were, to which she replied that
the elves no longer knew where this harbor had once stood - lands had
changed so much over so long a time, they had disappeared from sight
and memory, like Lothlorien and so many places they had once
cherished.
What did the elf mean when he said he rested, I asked her. Was the
tower so high that the stairs would tire him so much? I thought of
Lord Haldir swimming in the mornings - I didn't think a long flight of
stairs would be much of a physical challenge to most elves.
She didn't think so, she said. It was more likely that the effort of
gazing into the Palantir tired him - one had to focus one's thoughts
toward what one desired to see. She had read that it could be both a
physical and mental drain; such was the discipline of mind and the
strength of will that was required, to direct a Palantir.
* * * * *
One of my worries, as my departure draws closer, is how to protect the
books, manuscripts, and journals; not only the ancient and
irreplaceable documents that Allinde cares for here in the library,
but the notebooks of the elves, like Gladrel's garden books and the
master builder's notes of techniques and measurements, that they
record in on a daily basis.
It isn't the physical preservation I'm worried about - I'm confident
we have experts to take care of that. It's theft that I fear, when
others are brought here - when the world discovers that this place
exists.
Take Gladrel's Herbals, for example: volumes and volumes of her
notebooks of medicinal plants, with gold leaf lettering and the most
meticulous, beautiful botanical watercolors. A collector would pay
millions for any one of them, and some would stop at nothing to obtain
them. I cannot afford for such irreplaceable knowledge to disappear
into some hoarder's dark and lonely safe or basement gallery.
And what of Corudring's pocketbooks: the geometrical diagrams,
calculations, sketches of joints and connections, the proportional
diagrams and design sketches so organic and biological, so radical to
modern architecture, that they could change the way we view and
construct our built environment forever?
The same could be said for the extensive historical tapestries and
paintings that line the walls of every space, public and private. Not
to mention the scientific discoveries that could mean billions for
some giant pharmaceutical corporation or genome project, or who knows
who would take over the idea and allow no one else access to it.
I will not let such things happen! I will not let Methentaurond be
pillaged and divided like spoils of war by the greedy, the self-
serving, the power-hungry - by those who will not value sharing what
is here with all mankind. I will not allow the legacy of the Elves be
cheapened, ruined, raped.
Methentaurond must be a sanctuary; these things must stay here, yet be
available to all. Without the whole the parts are but a shadow of
what is possible for our world, of what this place is, or at least
what we will be able to keep it as, after the elves are gone. After
he is gone.
But how?
This is where I think our technology will save us. If I and the few
people I bring here first can absorb and disseminate enough
information quickly enough, then Methentaurond's knowledge will belong
to all of us before the vultures have time to descend.
I have been thinking for some time that if we can have this place
safeguarded as a national - no, an international - treasure, then we
can control how many people enter at one time, and what they are
allowed to do while they are here.
But can we keep this place secret long enough for these things to take
shape?
So many "ifs"! I must choose my people wisely and well, the first
time. There will be no room for mistakes, no luxury of hindsight.
Time is my enemy, and the enemy of the otherwise timeless, immortal,
elves. And time is the enemy, also, of my heart.
* * * * *
But now to smaller, but no less challenging things:
I woke early this morning, before meeting Lord Haldir at the river,
and conducted my experiment. The results were good enough for my
purposes.
This afternoon I stood in front of the mirror with the frame of leaf
and tendril-woven silver, looking at Vanimë's green gown. It was the
one that my experiment had yielded the most satisfying results for.
I had a hard time accepting that any elf could be as spiteful and
immature as Vanimë appeared to be. Surely she realized that it would
be an embarrassment for her as well as for me if I wore either gown
like this? I wasn't about to take them back to her and complain - I
would avoid that trap. Was she counting on me being as vain as she
and so not wearing them? She would never respect me if I was weak and
did nothing.
Was it because I was not an elf that she showed me such disrespect?
Clearly she thoroughly disrespected me, or she would never have
withheld Lord Haldir's messages from me or so blatantly have insulted
me with these gowns. Did she see me as some kind of competition for
Lord Haldir's affections? I wondered for the hundredth time if she
was involved with him, or if she just wished she was.
I would earn her respect. I would make myself look good, and I would
make her look good at the same time. I was at least a decent
seamstress: I would fix these gowns myself. At least, I would try.
Then I would wear them to dinner in the Great Hall, and we would see.
Searching my reflection more critically, I looked for one seam, one
dart or gather in the garment that, taken in or out, might set things
to right. A good half-hour later, I thought I might be on the right
track. I pulled open the drawer where I had stuffed the less-needed
contents of my backpack, and found the sewing repair kit that I always
took on trips in anticipation of a popped button or a ripped seam. I
found some thread that was at least passably close to the right color.
Not the hideous pastel yellow-green color the dress currently was,
but close to the color of the small sample that I had cut from the hem
this morning and soaked in last night's red wine. The wine had turned
the yellow sample a passable raw umber, and the green one a satisfying
violet-brown that was infinitely more flattering to my skin color.
Finding plenty of selvage to work with, I let the underarm seams out
generously and tried the dress on again. It was a definite
improvement, but something else was keeping it from falling gracefully
from the shoulders. After more frustrating adjustments with the
armholes and taking in the waist, I decided it was probably the best I
could do; I wasn't a professional, after all. But I no longer looked
like an under-ripe pear: The shoulders of the dress now balanced my
hips better, and my waist had reappeared. The gown was at least now
relatively flattering, except for the color.
I eyed the large basin that I had borrowed from Gladrel. I hoped I
had salvaged enough blackberry wine.
* * * * *
I had just finished hanging the gown above the basin in my bedroom to
drip dry and was slathering on some of Allinde's soap to remove the
purple stains from my hands, when there was a knock at the door.
Quickly I dried my hands, closed the blue velvet curtains over the
bedroom entrance, and raced across the parlor to open the door. Bruno
groggily raised his head from his blanket by the table, his afternoon
nap disturbed.
It was Lindir. Obviously I was late in joining him and he had come to
find me.
What is that smell? he asked as I stepped back for him to enter.
Belatedly I realized that the whole place must reek like the morning
after a rowdy party, but I could no longer smell a thing.
Oh, I said dismissively, I knocked over a bottle and spilled wine on
the floor. I've just now finished cleaning it up - I'm sorry I've
made you wait.
I see, he said, looking down at my hands. Following his gaze I saw
that the undersides of my fingernails and my cuticles were still
purple.
Shall we bring your dog? he said then, stepping past me, and I turned
to see that Bruno had gotten up and was padding lazily into the
bedroom, dragging the curtain open with his corkscrew tail.
Uh, no, I said quickly, moving between Lindir and the curtain and
trying to guide him back toward the door. Stay Bruno! I called over
my shoulder, explaining to Lindir that I had walked him extensively
this morning and he was tired.
Lindir didn't budge, but stood in the middle of my parlor and eyed me
suspiciously. Surely his elven sense of propriety wouldn't allow him
to go into a woman's bedroom uninvited, would it?
Uh, Lindir, you and Corudring have taught me how Imladris was planned
and built, I reminded him, nodding toward the front door, but not yet
Lothlorien or the Gray Havens. Can we go see Corudring again, now,
and ask him?
With a slight narrowing of his eyes Lindir took another step toward
the bedroom, gauging my reaction, which was to involuntarily step
toward him again. After another moment of silent examination, he
relented like the gentleman he was and allowed me to steer him out the
door.
* * * * *
Lindir and I stood next to Corudring in his workshop, where he
explained the layout of Lothlorien to me, sketching deftly on a spare
scrap of rough paper. The home of the galadrim had been a stately,
mature forest of mallorn in a valley nestled between two rivers - much
like the redwood forest in that Lothlorien was eventually the only
place where the mallorn grew. On a hilltop in a clearing in the vee,
or naith where the rivers met lay the tree-city of Caras Galadhon,
surrounded by a large foss, or moat, and then a high encircling wall
with but one large gated entrance. Corudring's drawing reminded me of
a medieval fortress, with many layers of protection fanning out around
it.
They told me of the city's ethereal beauty, and of the Lord and Lady
of the Galadrim who ruled there. So this had been Haldir's home that
he so loved and remembered, and his duty. I tried to imagine him and
his wardens guarding the borders from their flets high in the trees,
like the one at the Linluin.
As for the Grey Havens, they told me that neither of them had ever
been there in person. Perhaps Lord Haldir's travels had taken him
there, and they suggested that I ask him.
* * * * *
I had met Lindir's family in Methentaurond - a brother with his wife
and her family, but Lindir's bond-mate, as they called a wife of
husband, had departed for Valinor long before. Later as we walked
back toward the Great Hall to meet Lord Haldir, I inquired of Lindir
if I could ask him a very personal question.
True to form, Lindir replied that I might ask so that he might
determine whether he wished to answer me or not.
So I asked him if he missed his wife. He shot me a sharp look. I
quickly said that what I meant was, seeing as how they had been
separated for so very long, what did he. . . I meant, how could he.
. .Oh! I thought, extremely embarrassed, was there any way to ask
this without offending him in some way?
You wish to know, he stopped and stated calmly, how I can bear to be
parted from my love for so very long a time - how I can daily exist
without her presence.
Well. . . yes I said uncomfortably.
This I will answer you plainly, he said, his wise gaze meeting mine,
so that you will better know the hearts of the First Born. He led me
over to sit on one of the benches that had been cleverly placed in
recesses along the path.
He bowed his head to look at the ground, then looked beyond me down
the trail, as though remembering things long past. This is what he
told me:
He was not without her presence.
He had found her when he was just over a hundred years old: His soul-
mate, the one who he was meant to share his life with for all time.
He had known it the first time he had set eyes on her, and she him.
It had taken decades, however, for him to listen to what his heart had
told him and to ask for her hand. She had waited for him.
Their families had discussed the matter and had given them their
blessing - their houses would be joined. And thus, he and she had
given each other a promise ring, a silver ring each of their own
design, as a token of their devotion. Not, he said, so different,
really, from the ring that I bore around my neck.
I looked down at Jason's ring. I had almost forgotten it was there on
the chain around my neck, as I had not once removed it since Lindir
had returned it to me. I fingered it absently as he continued.
After their year of waiting had passed - never before or since had a
single year passed so slowly to him! - a ceremony was held between
their families and they exchanged gold rings, the symbol of their
binding.
Lindir held out his right hand for me to see the gleaming gold band on
his index finger. Lord Haldir wore no such band on this finger.
Then, he said with a faraway smile, he and she had walked hand in hand
to their favorite place, a hidden glade they had discovered in
Imladris, and they bound themselves to each other, body and spirit.
From that moment when they became one, he had felt the comfort and
promise of her presence in his heart, and in his mind. Even across
the Wide Sea, he said, seeming to be amazed at this himself, he could
dimly feel her warmth, her faint whisper in the background of his
thoughts. He could not speak to her with his mind as before, now that
she was no longer within the Circles of the World, but she was with
him nonetheless.
How different this was from my marriage to Kevin. We had loved each
other deeply. We had completed sentences for each other, often
seeming to know what the other was thinking. We had shared physical
union, of course. But such a complete joining of mind and soul was
not possible for us or any man or woman, and it was difficult for me
to imagine what it would be like. Would I really have wanted Kevin
inside my head, if that's what Lindir meant? Looking back, I think I
would have welcomed it.
No wonder I had seen no sign of casual affairs, though I supposed such
a thing might occur before marriage. No wonder elves often faded, as
Allinde had told me, at the death of a bond-mate. I thought of how
difficult it had been for me when Kevin had died. To experience such
complete intimacy as Lindir spoke of, then to have it suddenly
stripped away, perhaps even feeling the dying mate's anguish? It
would be unbearable! I thought again of Callo, who was never far from
my mind.
Then Lindir confided, bringing me back from such dark thoughts, that
on rare occasions, by the Grace of the Valar, she still came to him in
his dreams.
I gasped, the unusual dreams I'd had of Lord Haldir rushing back to
me. They had been so real, so powerful!
I tried to collect myself, as Lindir was looking at me with concern.
Had this happened before they were bound, I asked him, and was it
intentional, or did it just happen?
Lindir thought carefully, and I hung on every word of his reply. He
had not been blessed thus, but he had heard of such a thing. To his
experience it was not a purposeful thing one did, but rather that in
their slumbering one unconsciously sought the other out. It was
difficult for him to try and explain, he said. It was just part of
the nature of things.
I had never expected Lindir to be so open. Not wishing to even
further impose on his privacy, and having much to think on myself, I
thanked him for his candid words. It won't be long now, I said,
squeezing his hand, until you see her again, and he rewarded me with a
brilliant smile.
Let us go now, he said, standing and helping me to my feet. Lord
Haldir surely awaits.
And he doesn't like to wait, I declared.
* * * * *
I returned from another challenging afternoon with Lord Haldir - I
thought perhaps I had done better today - and checked on the gown
hanging in my bedroom. My rooms still smelled like wine, but the
scent was fading. The gown looked fine as far as I could tell - a
nice even violet-brown. But it was still damp, and I thought that it
needed some embroidery at the neckline or other form of embellishment
like the other elleth's gowns- something was missing. Perhaps I could
finish it by tomorrow.
There wasn't as much rinsed-out wine in the basin as had dripped from
the gown before I left. It seemed to be too much to have just
evaporated. I looked suspiciously at Bruno, who was snoring more
loudly than usual on the rug by my bed and had a rather damp snout. I
had to go to dinner and wasn't about to trust that he wouldn't need to
relieve himself before I got back, so I shook him awake and proceeded
to call him toward the door. There was a distinctive hang-dog aspect
to his demeanor. Darned if that big bear of a dog wasn't drunk!
Eventually I got Bruno back to the stables, where he immediately
curled up in a corner and went back to sleep. I filled a bucket with
water and left it beside him. I knew that he would be fed: He
received regular after-dinner visits from more than one attentive elf,
and his midsection was now larger than when we first arrived. He had
quickly become a mascot of sorts for the population of the caverns.
In fact, he was becoming utterly spoiled.
As I straightened back up to go to dinner, I noticed the rows of
unused but well-maintained bridles and saddles along the walls. The
fragrance of supple, well-tooled leather mixed with the smell of clean
straw and made the stables feel warm and welcoming despite the absence
of horses. Metal embellishments of superb, intricate flower and leaf
designs decorated much of the leather. Some of it was wonderfully
delicate-looking, although it would have to have been quite durable to
withstand the heavy use it must have had.
What a shame that these beautiful things were hidden away here where
no one could enjoy them.
* * * * *
Being quite tired I came back to my talan early to rest. Dinner had
begun to taste much better over the last few days, and the murderous
looks in my direction had thankfully tapered off.
But as soon as I lay down my thoughts began to race. Sleep eluded me.
I couldn't get Lindir's words and my dreams out of my mind. Images
of Lord Haldir played across my closed eyelids - the profile of his
face in the garden, his strong arms stroking in the river, the way he
looked at me when he was gauging my thoughts - and I tossed and turned
in agitation. Did he dream of me as he slept? I wasn't an elf -
could I receive such dreams from him anyway, because he was? Did he
secretly yearn for me as I constantly did for him? But if so,
wouldn't he show me in some way? Maybe he had, that afternoon when he
had shown me the mallorn. Or maybe it was only the tree that he'd
been concerned for.
Finally I got back up, threw a blanket around my shoulders, and
stepped out onto the deck outside my bedroom window. I lit a candle
and curled up in a chair, hoping that the soft flickering glow and the
twinkling lanterns would sooth me. I was staring into the candle
flame when movement out of the corner of my eye told me that Lord
Haldir had come out onto his terrace. Looking up toward him, I saw
that he had discarded his robes and now wore a pair of the dark
leggings and tunics that he seemed to favor. I watched as he spread
his hands to lean heavily on the railing, and gaze out over the
gardens. He seemed tired. He shifted his weight restlessly,
something I never saw him do in the presence of others, and again I
got the impression that something significant was bothering him.
I hoped it wasn't his doubts about my abilities that caused him
disquiet. I wanted him to be able to talk to me of what troubled him.
I wanted to comfort him and be comforted. Part of and more than all
of this, I wanted to love him.
I did love him. My heart swelled with the most aching, overwhelming
feeling. I stood and stepped onto the path as if compelled, the
blanket forgotten, pressing my hands to my chest and nearly crying
out, the joyfull sensation so physically intense that it was painful.
I loved him.
Gripping the railing, I stopped myself. I couldn't go to him like
this. I had no control over my emotions. I would make a fool of
myself, and I would be an unwelcome intrusion upon his privacy, the
only time he had to himself. No, I would make myself go to bed, give
myself time to calm down.
I forced myself to turn away and go back onto the deck, feeling like I
was swimming through thick syrup, every step a force of will. I bent
down and blew out the candle. At once I felt rather than saw that his
attention had been drawn to the extinguishing of the flame, and that
he was looking down and across the bridges at me. Could he really see
me here, against the dark wall of my talan? Still leaning over the
candle, I closed my eyes and tried to open myself completely to the
sensation.
Nothing. I looked up toward the terrace again, but he was gone.
*"Days of Future Passed", song and album by the Moody Blues **Ríw: Winter
* * * * * THE TALE OF MARIAN
CHAPTER 15 – Days of Future Passed*
15 September
We have found a new reference to a Palantir! An elf returning to
Methentaurond from "outside," as I am beginning to think of the rest
of the world, brought a book back to Allinde last night. It was in
elvish, of course. I have been true to my word to Allinde - I am
learning the language terribly slowly, and can read and speak little.
But the words "Palantir Elendil" sprang out at me from the yellowed
and fragile pages, and I called Allinde immediately to my side.
The book was the journal of an elf whose travels had taken him to the
Gray Havens. He had turned aside along the way to climb the Tower
Hills and gaze into the Stone. In great excitement Allinde read the
lone paragraph that mentioned the elf-stone:
"Elostirion - as a pilgrim I ascend the heights of your winding
stairs, higher and higher, each step a prayer to the Valar. Like
an eagle I rise through the drifting clouds to your gleaming
parapets and behold in the distance the wide blue sea, sparkling
like diamonds in Anor's brilliant light, gulls calling in an
endless ocean of bold blue sky. Elendil's Stone lay, a dark and
mysterious jewel, in the bosom of your lofty marble heights,
safe in the keeping of the High Elves of Lindon, Lord Cirdan
wise and strong. Into its swirling depths in timeless thought I
gaze, blessed by a vision of your pure white shores, oh Valinor.
Now I rest, yet ere Ríw** comes I will take the grey ship and
follow, for seeing you, oh blessed land of Elbereth, I am called
home across the wide sea!"
So Cirdan was keeper of the Stone of Elendil! exclaimed Allinde. Of
course, she said, pacing back and forth and slapping her forehead with
her hand, why had I not thought of that? And it is said that Cirdan
did not leave the Gray Havens for the Undying Lands until the end of
the Third Age. I wonder if he still had it then, and if he took it
with him?
I asked Allinde where the Gray Havens were, to which she replied that
the elves no longer knew where this harbor had once stood - lands had
changed so much over so long a time, they had disappeared from sight
and memory, like Lothlorien and so many places they had once
cherished.
What did the elf mean when he said he rested, I asked her. Was the
tower so high that the stairs would tire him so much? I thought of
Lord Haldir swimming in the mornings - I didn't think a long flight of
stairs would be much of a physical challenge to most elves.
She didn't think so, she said. It was more likely that the effort of
gazing into the Palantir tired him - one had to focus one's thoughts
toward what one desired to see. She had read that it could be both a
physical and mental drain; such was the discipline of mind and the
strength of will that was required, to direct a Palantir.
* * * * *
One of my worries, as my departure draws closer, is how to protect the
books, manuscripts, and journals; not only the ancient and
irreplaceable documents that Allinde cares for here in the library,
but the notebooks of the elves, like Gladrel's garden books and the
master builder's notes of techniques and measurements, that they
record in on a daily basis.
It isn't the physical preservation I'm worried about - I'm confident
we have experts to take care of that. It's theft that I fear, when
others are brought here - when the world discovers that this place
exists.
Take Gladrel's Herbals, for example: volumes and volumes of her
notebooks of medicinal plants, with gold leaf lettering and the most
meticulous, beautiful botanical watercolors. A collector would pay
millions for any one of them, and some would stop at nothing to obtain
them. I cannot afford for such irreplaceable knowledge to disappear
into some hoarder's dark and lonely safe or basement gallery.
And what of Corudring's pocketbooks: the geometrical diagrams,
calculations, sketches of joints and connections, the proportional
diagrams and design sketches so organic and biological, so radical to
modern architecture, that they could change the way we view and
construct our built environment forever?
The same could be said for the extensive historical tapestries and
paintings that line the walls of every space, public and private. Not
to mention the scientific discoveries that could mean billions for
some giant pharmaceutical corporation or genome project, or who knows
who would take over the idea and allow no one else access to it.
I will not let such things happen! I will not let Methentaurond be
pillaged and divided like spoils of war by the greedy, the self-
serving, the power-hungry - by those who will not value sharing what
is here with all mankind. I will not allow the legacy of the Elves be
cheapened, ruined, raped.
Methentaurond must be a sanctuary; these things must stay here, yet be
available to all. Without the whole the parts are but a shadow of
what is possible for our world, of what this place is, or at least
what we will be able to keep it as, after the elves are gone. After
he is gone.
But how?
This is where I think our technology will save us. If I and the few
people I bring here first can absorb and disseminate enough
information quickly enough, then Methentaurond's knowledge will belong
to all of us before the vultures have time to descend.
I have been thinking for some time that if we can have this place
safeguarded as a national - no, an international - treasure, then we
can control how many people enter at one time, and what they are
allowed to do while they are here.
But can we keep this place secret long enough for these things to take
shape?
So many "ifs"! I must choose my people wisely and well, the first
time. There will be no room for mistakes, no luxury of hindsight.
Time is my enemy, and the enemy of the otherwise timeless, immortal,
elves. And time is the enemy, also, of my heart.
* * * * *
But now to smaller, but no less challenging things:
I woke early this morning, before meeting Lord Haldir at the river,
and conducted my experiment. The results were good enough for my
purposes.
This afternoon I stood in front of the mirror with the frame of leaf
and tendril-woven silver, looking at Vanimë's green gown. It was the
one that my experiment had yielded the most satisfying results for.
I had a hard time accepting that any elf could be as spiteful and
immature as Vanimë appeared to be. Surely she realized that it would
be an embarrassment for her as well as for me if I wore either gown
like this? I wasn't about to take them back to her and complain - I
would avoid that trap. Was she counting on me being as vain as she
and so not wearing them? She would never respect me if I was weak and
did nothing.
Was it because I was not an elf that she showed me such disrespect?
Clearly she thoroughly disrespected me, or she would never have
withheld Lord Haldir's messages from me or so blatantly have insulted
me with these gowns. Did she see me as some kind of competition for
Lord Haldir's affections? I wondered for the hundredth time if she
was involved with him, or if she just wished she was.
I would earn her respect. I would make myself look good, and I would
make her look good at the same time. I was at least a decent
seamstress: I would fix these gowns myself. At least, I would try.
Then I would wear them to dinner in the Great Hall, and we would see.
Searching my reflection more critically, I looked for one seam, one
dart or gather in the garment that, taken in or out, might set things
to right. A good half-hour later, I thought I might be on the right
track. I pulled open the drawer where I had stuffed the less-needed
contents of my backpack, and found the sewing repair kit that I always
took on trips in anticipation of a popped button or a ripped seam. I
found some thread that was at least passably close to the right color.
Not the hideous pastel yellow-green color the dress currently was,
but close to the color of the small sample that I had cut from the hem
this morning and soaked in last night's red wine. The wine had turned
the yellow sample a passable raw umber, and the green one a satisfying
violet-brown that was infinitely more flattering to my skin color.
Finding plenty of selvage to work with, I let the underarm seams out
generously and tried the dress on again. It was a definite
improvement, but something else was keeping it from falling gracefully
from the shoulders. After more frustrating adjustments with the
armholes and taking in the waist, I decided it was probably the best I
could do; I wasn't a professional, after all. But I no longer looked
like an under-ripe pear: The shoulders of the dress now balanced my
hips better, and my waist had reappeared. The gown was at least now
relatively flattering, except for the color.
I eyed the large basin that I had borrowed from Gladrel. I hoped I
had salvaged enough blackberry wine.
* * * * *
I had just finished hanging the gown above the basin in my bedroom to
drip dry and was slathering on some of Allinde's soap to remove the
purple stains from my hands, when there was a knock at the door.
Quickly I dried my hands, closed the blue velvet curtains over the
bedroom entrance, and raced across the parlor to open the door. Bruno
groggily raised his head from his blanket by the table, his afternoon
nap disturbed.
It was Lindir. Obviously I was late in joining him and he had come to
find me.
What is that smell? he asked as I stepped back for him to enter.
Belatedly I realized that the whole place must reek like the morning
after a rowdy party, but I could no longer smell a thing.
Oh, I said dismissively, I knocked over a bottle and spilled wine on
the floor. I've just now finished cleaning it up - I'm sorry I've
made you wait.
I see, he said, looking down at my hands. Following his gaze I saw
that the undersides of my fingernails and my cuticles were still
purple.
Shall we bring your dog? he said then, stepping past me, and I turned
to see that Bruno had gotten up and was padding lazily into the
bedroom, dragging the curtain open with his corkscrew tail.
Uh, no, I said quickly, moving between Lindir and the curtain and
trying to guide him back toward the door. Stay Bruno! I called over
my shoulder, explaining to Lindir that I had walked him extensively
this morning and he was tired.
Lindir didn't budge, but stood in the middle of my parlor and eyed me
suspiciously. Surely his elven sense of propriety wouldn't allow him
to go into a woman's bedroom uninvited, would it?
Uh, Lindir, you and Corudring have taught me how Imladris was planned
and built, I reminded him, nodding toward the front door, but not yet
Lothlorien or the Gray Havens. Can we go see Corudring again, now,
and ask him?
With a slight narrowing of his eyes Lindir took another step toward
the bedroom, gauging my reaction, which was to involuntarily step
toward him again. After another moment of silent examination, he
relented like the gentleman he was and allowed me to steer him out the
door.
* * * * *
Lindir and I stood next to Corudring in his workshop, where he
explained the layout of Lothlorien to me, sketching deftly on a spare
scrap of rough paper. The home of the galadrim had been a stately,
mature forest of mallorn in a valley nestled between two rivers - much
like the redwood forest in that Lothlorien was eventually the only
place where the mallorn grew. On a hilltop in a clearing in the vee,
or naith where the rivers met lay the tree-city of Caras Galadhon,
surrounded by a large foss, or moat, and then a high encircling wall
with but one large gated entrance. Corudring's drawing reminded me of
a medieval fortress, with many layers of protection fanning out around
it.
They told me of the city's ethereal beauty, and of the Lord and Lady
of the Galadrim who ruled there. So this had been Haldir's home that
he so loved and remembered, and his duty. I tried to imagine him and
his wardens guarding the borders from their flets high in the trees,
like the one at the Linluin.
As for the Grey Havens, they told me that neither of them had ever
been there in person. Perhaps Lord Haldir's travels had taken him
there, and they suggested that I ask him.
* * * * *
I had met Lindir's family in Methentaurond - a brother with his wife
and her family, but Lindir's bond-mate, as they called a wife of
husband, had departed for Valinor long before. Later as we walked
back toward the Great Hall to meet Lord Haldir, I inquired of Lindir
if I could ask him a very personal question.
True to form, Lindir replied that I might ask so that he might
determine whether he wished to answer me or not.
So I asked him if he missed his wife. He shot me a sharp look. I
quickly said that what I meant was, seeing as how they had been
separated for so very long, what did he. . . I meant, how could he.
. .Oh! I thought, extremely embarrassed, was there any way to ask
this without offending him in some way?
You wish to know, he stopped and stated calmly, how I can bear to be
parted from my love for so very long a time - how I can daily exist
without her presence.
Well. . . yes I said uncomfortably.
This I will answer you plainly, he said, his wise gaze meeting mine,
so that you will better know the hearts of the First Born. He led me
over to sit on one of the benches that had been cleverly placed in
recesses along the path.
He bowed his head to look at the ground, then looked beyond me down
the trail, as though remembering things long past. This is what he
told me:
He was not without her presence.
He had found her when he was just over a hundred years old: His soul-
mate, the one who he was meant to share his life with for all time.
He had known it the first time he had set eyes on her, and she him.
It had taken decades, however, for him to listen to what his heart had
told him and to ask for her hand. She had waited for him.
Their families had discussed the matter and had given them their
blessing - their houses would be joined. And thus, he and she had
given each other a promise ring, a silver ring each of their own
design, as a token of their devotion. Not, he said, so different,
really, from the ring that I bore around my neck.
I looked down at Jason's ring. I had almost forgotten it was there on
the chain around my neck, as I had not once removed it since Lindir
had returned it to me. I fingered it absently as he continued.
After their year of waiting had passed - never before or since had a
single year passed so slowly to him! - a ceremony was held between
their families and they exchanged gold rings, the symbol of their
binding.
Lindir held out his right hand for me to see the gleaming gold band on
his index finger. Lord Haldir wore no such band on this finger.
Then, he said with a faraway smile, he and she had walked hand in hand
to their favorite place, a hidden glade they had discovered in
Imladris, and they bound themselves to each other, body and spirit.
From that moment when they became one, he had felt the comfort and
promise of her presence in his heart, and in his mind. Even across
the Wide Sea, he said, seeming to be amazed at this himself, he could
dimly feel her warmth, her faint whisper in the background of his
thoughts. He could not speak to her with his mind as before, now that
she was no longer within the Circles of the World, but she was with
him nonetheless.
How different this was from my marriage to Kevin. We had loved each
other deeply. We had completed sentences for each other, often
seeming to know what the other was thinking. We had shared physical
union, of course. But such a complete joining of mind and soul was
not possible for us or any man or woman, and it was difficult for me
to imagine what it would be like. Would I really have wanted Kevin
inside my head, if that's what Lindir meant? Looking back, I think I
would have welcomed it.
No wonder I had seen no sign of casual affairs, though I supposed such
a thing might occur before marriage. No wonder elves often faded, as
Allinde had told me, at the death of a bond-mate. I thought of how
difficult it had been for me when Kevin had died. To experience such
complete intimacy as Lindir spoke of, then to have it suddenly
stripped away, perhaps even feeling the dying mate's anguish? It
would be unbearable! I thought again of Callo, who was never far from
my mind.
Then Lindir confided, bringing me back from such dark thoughts, that
on rare occasions, by the Grace of the Valar, she still came to him in
his dreams.
I gasped, the unusual dreams I'd had of Lord Haldir rushing back to
me. They had been so real, so powerful!
I tried to collect myself, as Lindir was looking at me with concern.
Had this happened before they were bound, I asked him, and was it
intentional, or did it just happen?
Lindir thought carefully, and I hung on every word of his reply. He
had not been blessed thus, but he had heard of such a thing. To his
experience it was not a purposeful thing one did, but rather that in
their slumbering one unconsciously sought the other out. It was
difficult for him to try and explain, he said. It was just part of
the nature of things.
I had never expected Lindir to be so open. Not wishing to even
further impose on his privacy, and having much to think on myself, I
thanked him for his candid words. It won't be long now, I said,
squeezing his hand, until you see her again, and he rewarded me with a
brilliant smile.
Let us go now, he said, standing and helping me to my feet. Lord
Haldir surely awaits.
And he doesn't like to wait, I declared.
* * * * *
I returned from another challenging afternoon with Lord Haldir - I
thought perhaps I had done better today - and checked on the gown
hanging in my bedroom. My rooms still smelled like wine, but the
scent was fading. The gown looked fine as far as I could tell - a
nice even violet-brown. But it was still damp, and I thought that it
needed some embroidery at the neckline or other form of embellishment
like the other elleth's gowns- something was missing. Perhaps I could
finish it by tomorrow.
There wasn't as much rinsed-out wine in the basin as had dripped from
the gown before I left. It seemed to be too much to have just
evaporated. I looked suspiciously at Bruno, who was snoring more
loudly than usual on the rug by my bed and had a rather damp snout. I
had to go to dinner and wasn't about to trust that he wouldn't need to
relieve himself before I got back, so I shook him awake and proceeded
to call him toward the door. There was a distinctive hang-dog aspect
to his demeanor. Darned if that big bear of a dog wasn't drunk!
Eventually I got Bruno back to the stables, where he immediately
curled up in a corner and went back to sleep. I filled a bucket with
water and left it beside him. I knew that he would be fed: He
received regular after-dinner visits from more than one attentive elf,
and his midsection was now larger than when we first arrived. He had
quickly become a mascot of sorts for the population of the caverns.
In fact, he was becoming utterly spoiled.
As I straightened back up to go to dinner, I noticed the rows of
unused but well-maintained bridles and saddles along the walls. The
fragrance of supple, well-tooled leather mixed with the smell of clean
straw and made the stables feel warm and welcoming despite the absence
of horses. Metal embellishments of superb, intricate flower and leaf
designs decorated much of the leather. Some of it was wonderfully
delicate-looking, although it would have to have been quite durable to
withstand the heavy use it must have had.
What a shame that these beautiful things were hidden away here where
no one could enjoy them.
* * * * *
Being quite tired I came back to my talan early to rest. Dinner had
begun to taste much better over the last few days, and the murderous
looks in my direction had thankfully tapered off.
But as soon as I lay down my thoughts began to race. Sleep eluded me.
I couldn't get Lindir's words and my dreams out of my mind. Images
of Lord Haldir played across my closed eyelids - the profile of his
face in the garden, his strong arms stroking in the river, the way he
looked at me when he was gauging my thoughts - and I tossed and turned
in agitation. Did he dream of me as he slept? I wasn't an elf -
could I receive such dreams from him anyway, because he was? Did he
secretly yearn for me as I constantly did for him? But if so,
wouldn't he show me in some way? Maybe he had, that afternoon when he
had shown me the mallorn. Or maybe it was only the tree that he'd
been concerned for.
Finally I got back up, threw a blanket around my shoulders, and
stepped out onto the deck outside my bedroom window. I lit a candle
and curled up in a chair, hoping that the soft flickering glow and the
twinkling lanterns would sooth me. I was staring into the candle
flame when movement out of the corner of my eye told me that Lord
Haldir had come out onto his terrace. Looking up toward him, I saw
that he had discarded his robes and now wore a pair of the dark
leggings and tunics that he seemed to favor. I watched as he spread
his hands to lean heavily on the railing, and gaze out over the
gardens. He seemed tired. He shifted his weight restlessly,
something I never saw him do in the presence of others, and again I
got the impression that something significant was bothering him.
I hoped it wasn't his doubts about my abilities that caused him
disquiet. I wanted him to be able to talk to me of what troubled him.
I wanted to comfort him and be comforted. Part of and more than all
of this, I wanted to love him.
I did love him. My heart swelled with the most aching, overwhelming
feeling. I stood and stepped onto the path as if compelled, the
blanket forgotten, pressing my hands to my chest and nearly crying
out, the joyfull sensation so physically intense that it was painful.
I loved him.
Gripping the railing, I stopped myself. I couldn't go to him like
this. I had no control over my emotions. I would make a fool of
myself, and I would be an unwelcome intrusion upon his privacy, the
only time he had to himself. No, I would make myself go to bed, give
myself time to calm down.
I forced myself to turn away and go back onto the deck, feeling like I
was swimming through thick syrup, every step a force of will. I bent
down and blew out the candle. At once I felt rather than saw that his
attention had been drawn to the extinguishing of the flame, and that
he was looking down and across the bridges at me. Could he really see
me here, against the dark wall of my talan? Still leaning over the
candle, I closed my eyes and tried to open myself completely to the
sensation.
Nothing. I looked up toward the terrace again, but he was gone.
*"Days of Future Passed", song and album by the Moody Blues **Ríw: Winter