Title: The Tale of Marian
Chapter: 26/?
Rating: PG13 this chapter.
Pairing: OFC/Haldir
Genre: Adventure/Romance/perhaps a little Angst
Timeline: AU, modern times.
Beta: None this chapter.
Feedback: Welcomed, appreciated. Constructive criticism always appreciated.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: This is a work in progress.
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
THE TALE OF MARIAN
Chapter 26: Late Afternoon Wind
i
18 January
When the rest of our group rushed back along the trail after Jason and saw the new fault line, Sandy commented that it felt like the epicenter of the quake had been right under us. She wished for a radio so we would know. Her words made me think of the jewel again, and of Jason's assuredness that there are no such things as coincidences. I wonder.
No one wanted to leave the open meadow after the earthquake; me least of all. I don't know how I hurt my ankle, but I can't walk on my right foot. It doesn't matter: losing Bruno hurts a lot more. I keep telling myself that he was just a dog, but he was my buddy. I'll miss his big furry face, and telling him things that I can't tell anyone else, even Jason.
Although the late afternoon light was dim, both Jason and Dieter insisted that we move on into the forest. They were right: we didn't want to be in the open if anyone flew over. And Jason said that the danger of an aftershock or of more trees falling wouldn't be any less tomorrow than it was today. Besides, he said, he felt the worst was over. "You 'feel' that the worst is over?" Mason said, obviously not seeing anything at all scientific or reassuring in Jason's statement.
Joel patched me and Dieter up as best he could - Dieter had a bad scrape on his back from a limb of the falling tree. Then we moved, Joel supporting me on one side until he found a branch that was serviceable as a crutch. I felt much better not having to rely on his almost too personal grip on my waist. They all offered to divide the contents of my backpack among them, but I didn't want anyone to see the jewel that I had slipped inside. Limping along with the backpack was awkward and tiring, but we didn't have far to go before the deep twilight under the trees forced us to stop for the night.
Why do I not share my discovery? It's not that I want it for myself. I have little budget or interest in large precious gems - and surely this must be precious. One can't wear even a moderately large stone or keep it hidden without having bodyguards and fearing for one's life, so it hardly seems worth it. To my thinking no stone is precious unless it is given as a token of love, such as the ring that I now wear on my finger. But I fear that if I show this marvel to everyone there will be jealousy and someone will want to take it for themselves. It would be a temptation. It could tear us apart.
Then there are the elves. My instincts tell me that this jewel is much more than just a finely cut, extremely large precious stone. No diamond shines like this, like it is alive inside. I think it must be elvish, and perhaps, like the lamps of Methentaurond, it holds a star's light. I fear from my memories of Lindir's evening ballads that it may hold much, much more, and that it might even be dangerous to the elves. I must not be rash in what I do with it. It has only made my backpack a few pounds heavier. It is my mind that it weighs most heavily on.
I wish that I had never found it! I need time to think.
We are near Methentaurond, and that knowledge keeps me going in spite of my ankle. Our Fellowship needs to reach there soon: They are weary and frustrated. They have gone through so much on trust alone and they deserve their reward. I need to see if the elves are safe. But most of all, I need to see for myself that Lord Haldir is well. I can think of almost nothing else than seeing him again, so powerful is his presence in my mind and my heart. I know that the others have felt my anticipation and eagerness; it is impossible for me to hide it.
/i
Jason
Lindir has met us, and what a meeting it was! He had set out looking for us as soon as the tremors had worsened, at my brother's orders, to ensure that we were safe and well. He and the wardens on duty this day made no pretense of hiding their true nature. Shortly after we broke camp the morning after the earthquake they surrounded us on the trail.
Their sudden appearance was most impressive. I, of course, was the only one who noticed they were there before they showed themselves. I don't believe that our Fellowship has yet recovered from the experience, except for Marian and, oddly enough, Roger. Dieter still seems to carry an undue burden of embarrassment over being surprised so easily. Amid the cries of shock and disbelief of being waylaid by eight tall elven archers, I stepped aside and Marian limped anxiously forward to face a suitably intimidating Lindir, whose commanding "Daro!" had frozen our group instantly in place.
Wisely Marian did not speak, but simply touched her hand to her heart and opened her palm outward to him in a greeting of friendship, which he returned solemnly.
"How fare you?" he asked her without preamble, first eyeing Marian's wrapped ankle and the makeshift crutch that Joel had fashioned for her, then quickly taking stock of the condition of the rest of us.
"We are well," Marian replied, ignoring her own injury. "But you, Lindir, and everyone else, was anyone hurt? Was there any damage to Methentaurond?" she asked anxiously. "The ground actually split apart not far down the trail from here!"
"Methentaurond and those who now dwell there are safe," Lindir told her tonelessly and included me in his reply. "What damage there was is being tended to. However, apparently you are not," he commented to Marian and shot me a reproving look.
Joel opened his mouth, probably to protest that he had tended to her himself and Dieter, too, but thought better of it when the imposing warden watching him stepped closer.
"It's not Jason's fault," Marian said. "I asked him not to. Not until you got here." Then she broke into a grin. "Mae govannen, Lindir au Methentaurond. I bring the visitors that you have been expecting. Tell us what we can do to help."
"These people are the Quendi?" Arianna asked Marian, and Marian nodded.
Lindir looked at each of the party before him, then signaled for the wardens to relax their guard. As one they stepped back a pace and sheathed their half-drawn arrows. The members of our Fellowship let out a collective breath of relief. "First," Lindir said in a tone that for the first time held a note of resigned welcome, "Rumil must attend to your injury. And there are as yet unspoken questions to be answered."
"You can say that again," Yasmin said, eyeing the warden nearest her with extreme suspicion.
"Who's Rumil?" Sandy asked, and everyone looked at the wardens to see who would step forward.
"Mae govannen - welcome," Lindir said at last to us all. "Let us sit together," Lindir offered and took Marian's arm to assist her, "and speak of these things." But he gave instructions to Failon as we sat, and Failon ran on down the trail. "I have sent him to examine the place that you tell of, where the earth opened," he explained in English to our group.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Mason was the first to speak, asking the simple question that was probably the foremost in everyone's minds. "What are you?" he said incredulously, staring at Lindir's ears.
"You are the Second Children of Iluvatar - the Followers. We are the First Children. We are Elves," Lindir replied.
To this statement he received exactly the type of response that you might imagine: total disbelief and scorn. I could see the mortals recalling the stories that Marian and I had told them along our way and trying to compare them with what they were seeing before them. Except for Roger, who approached Lindir directly and extended his hand.
"Roger, don't pull on his ears!" Marian said suddenly and looked apologetically at Lindir. "Well, it hurts," she added in embarrassment when everyone turned to stare at her.
"You should know," I couldn't help but insert into the conversation, giving Lindir a very meaningful and humorous look which he quite stubbornly refused to acknowledge.
"So you 'believe' in elves?" Lindir asked Roger with mild interest.
"Why should I not believe in elves when I have seen angels?" Roger replied. "When someone is as old as I am, one prepares to meet one's Maker. Old men and children see and believe many things that young men refuse to allow themselves to see.
My grandson Adam sends greetings to Lindir the elf," Roger said jovially and offered his hand.
"What?!" Marian exclaimed as my elven friends laughed and Lindir took Roger's hand. "You knew all this time?" Then she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Adam promised not to tell anyone," she accused.
"I recall that his exact promise to me was that he would not tell his class or his parents," Lindir reminded her with a conspiratorial look at Roger.
"Don't worry, son," Roger assured Lindir, who was millennia older than he was, "Adam told me and no one else. He would never put you or your amigos here in danger."
"Face it, Marian, you've been had," I said. (This is my favorite mortal slang for such situations. I use it on Haldir whenever I can get away with it, which is unfortunately only once every century or so. It is always well worth the wait.)
"I for one don't believe this "elf" business for an instant," Joel snorted. "You are no more an elf than Dieter here, or Jason," he said, pointing to each of us. "You can get prosthetics like those Mr. Spock ears in any shop on Halloween. What are you trying to pull over on us, and why?" he demanded in a superior tone. The other members of our Fellowship turned to look at each other and at the wardens in discomfort.
Lindir stood and walked over to me, and I rose to clasp his arms in a proper elvish greeting. "Welcome home Rumil, counsellor of Methentaurond," he addressed me warmly in English." It is time, mellon nin."
"Rumil of. . . ?" Sandy asked me in confusion.
I sighed and shared a look with Marian. This was going to be a pivotal moment. Would these mortals accept what we were, or would our carefully chosen group fall apart at the seams?
"There is only one set of prosthetics, and they are mine," I confessed. It was a relief to finally be able to say so. Besides, my "mortal" ears were itching quite badly and I was desperate for the opportunity to remove them. I did so immediately, to assorted gasps and cries. Then I handed them to Joel, who turned them over and examined them critically. Arianna jumped up and backed away from me toward Dieter, who had been eying one of the warden's bows curiously. "I am sorry," I said to them, "that I could not tell you of this sooner."
Roger laughed through the strained silence that followed my words. "Marian, you are not alone in being 'had,' I see." Then he turned to me. "Your knowledge of edible plants; your ability to start fires with the wettest wood and predict earthquakes before they happen; your nimbleness and grace: All of these things were before me all this time," he shook his head in amazement.
"It was my decision," Marian interrupted, as she was wont to do, and took my arm in the unequivocal support that I could count on from her even when she was throwing scathing words in my direction. "Jason - I mean Rumil - offered to tell you before, but I wouldn't let him. It was for his own protection. Arianna, please sit down," she asked, "there's nothing to be afraid of. Look, I didn't believe Lindir at first either."
"Our Hungarian fables are full of tales of elves. Every culture's myths describe such creatures. They appear in secret places, to a child who is lost or to a lonesome traveler in the woods. They are portrayed as wise and good and terrible," Arianna said as if lecturing to a class, so shocked was she by my transformation.
"This is why, Arianna," Marian said excitedly. "They are real! I was only told a few months ago. Before that I didn't know that Jason was really Rumil either, and I wasn't too happy with him when he told me," she complained with a glare in my direction.
"But you called them Quendi, not elves. Why did you lie to us?!" Arianna asked Marian from Dieter's side and then looked at me mistrustfully. I must say that I was a little hurt.
"Would you have believed her?" Lindir asked Arianna bluntly. "We are Quendi, as Rumil told you" he said to her. "But we are now few. Arda - Earth - is no longer in balance, and for the first time we are sickening, and dying." Lindir said to our group. "Marian, Callo is gone; he now waits in the Halls of Mondos," he told her mournfully, and my heart sank though I had known it might be so.
Yasmin broke in. "What do you mean you are sickening and dying 'for the first time'? she challenged Lindir. "Everybody gets sick - everybody dies."
"No, mortal one," Lindir said. "Unlike you we are bound to the life of Arda. We do not die unless killed. We do not sicken - at least not until now. That is why we must no longer tarry here despite our love for Arda.
"Ok, let's say I'll play along, just for kicks," Yasmin said sarcastically, but there was a note of curiosity in her voice. "How old ARE you?"
Lindir thought, his clear eyes searching inward to times long past. "Such things I no longer attend to. But for your enlightenment, I was begotten in the year 2698 of the Second Age. It was a time of peace in the Westlands, before the rise again of the dark lord Sauron; before he was defeated, or so we thought, by the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. We now near the end of the Fifth Age. I have seen. . . . 9,764 years."
Yasmin, for once, was speechless. Either she was entertaining believing Lindir and was trying to absorb what he was saying, or she was convinced he was lying and was so overcome by the audacity of his statement that she couldn't think of a comeback. I'm not sure which it was.
"You said you can't stay. I don't understand. Where are you going?" Arianna asked.
"To Valinor," Lindir replied reverently.
"You are going to heaven," Joel repeated dryly, drawing from the stories that Jason and I had told them on the way.
"We are called home," Lindir said, and his voice and posture hardened. "At great peril to our own lives we offer to you our last hidden stronghold and all the knowledge that we can give before we leave. We do this to heal your people and to heal Arda that we love, for to heal either is to heal both. That is why you were chosen. Do you now refuse a gift so dear?" Lindir loftily challenged each of our group.
At this point Failon returned from the trail, and began urgently reporting in Sindarin what he had seen.
I moved to unwrap Marian's ankle but she asked me to look at Dieter's back first. Though he was quite upset at me ("You let them ambush us," he accused me bitterly and accurately), he removed his shirt. Lindir provided me with some salve that lessened Dieter's bruises and cuts quite nicely. Then I put the same salve on Marian's ankle and healed her sprain as best I could, though Lomion would need to add his more capable skills to complete the repair. At least my dear girl would be able to walk the rest of the way without a crutch.
Joel had taken the most acute interest in these proceedings. As he turned Marian's ankle this way and that with only minor complaints on her part, he became more and more animated. He next rushed to examine Dieter's back and raised the salve that I had used to his nose.
"What is this? How do you make it?" he asked eagerly, holding the small pot out to Lindir. "How did you do that?" he turned and asked me.
Along with me and the wardens, Lindir had become agitated at the news Failon had brought. He concluded the conversation abruptly. "All will be explained, once we have reached Methentaurond," he promised. "The disturbance in Arda has brought Men to Tar-Caranorn. We cannot risk discovery. Come, we must move quickly and quietly."
I bent to lift Marian's backpack for her as she rose, but she shouldered it quickly before I could help her, waving me off. I was taken aback at her refusal. Marian has never waved me off before, even in her most bitingly sarcastic moments. I could find no reason for it, but since the earthquake something in Marian had closed off from me. I wondered briefly if I had done something to offend her. But no, if I offended Marian I was always the first to know it. Perhaps it was the loss of Bruno that had caused her to turn inward. After I had dragged her away from the open wound in the earth and comforted her as best I could, I had started to approach the fault to get a closer look. Marian had called out to me desperately, and had tried to rise to stop me. That was when she had painfully discovered that she had twisted her ankle. I only meant to look, I told her, because I thought I had seen a brilliant light for a moment, and had she seen it too? She said yes, she thought she had seen something, but then it had disappeared. After that she wouldn't look me in the eye for some time. But she had walked closer to me than usual, not suffering me to step far from her reach. Perhaps, I thought, this was simply a mortal way for her to deal with losing one friend - being over-protective but shutting herself off emotionally in case anything should happen to me. I told myself that it would disappear in time.
I relaxed as I saw the others gather their things. They were going to follow us after all.
"How far do we still have to go?" Dieter asked, looking up the trail ahead of us.
Lindir turned to Marian. "The 'front door' or the 'back door'?" he asked her gravely. "The choice is yours alone."
Marian considered this. Some kind of wordless understanding passed between them, though Marian has no telepathic abilities whatsoever.
"I have now walked a mile in your shoes, teacher," she said to him quietly. "The front door, of course," she decided with a bow of her head. Only Lindir and I knew that this meant a longer trip for the sake of keeping the entrance to Methentaurond a secret for a little while longer.
"As you wish, Lady Marian," he replied with a small smile, and her eyes widened with surprise at his use of the title. "We should arrive at your journey's end mid-day tomorrow," he said to our group as a whole.
"But it didn't take that long for you to find us," Mason astutely protested.
"We travel lightly, and at night," Lindir replied enigmatically, and then proved it by striding half out of site up the trail before Mason had taken his first step.
i
18 January - At Camp.
We reached the Linluin shortly after dark - no swimming, no washing allowed. I've told the others about the fragrant bathing pools in Methentaurond. How glad I'll be to soak in them tomorrow!
I have asked after Lindir himself, and Allinde. I am worried about them both, but especially Allinde, since Lindir told us that dear noble Callo has died. Lindir has assured me that Allinde is adjusting as well as can be expected. Where, I asked him, is Callo's paperweight, the one that he told us to keep away from her? Lindir told me that Callo gave it to her before the end. It rests in a place of honor in her home. She hasn't shown any ill effects from being near it. Lindir and I are as confused as before.
It is Lord Haldir, Lindir told me and Rumil privately (I can finally call Jason by his real name, but it is hard to remember!), who has taken Callo's death the hardest. Lindir confided that Lord Haldir blames himself as much as the world of Men for Callo's death. I may discover, Lindir warned me, our reception into Methentaurond not as friendly as I might wish. I know that a leader must be responsible, but must Haldir take so much blame upon himself? I don't believe he is being fair to himself, and I will tell him so when I see him though he won't listen.
As is their habit, as soon as our dinner was over our guides began to sing ballads of long ago. As before, I feel myself transported. Images float in my mind of the strange lands the wardens sing of even when the tale is told in their own language, ancient and beautiful. The cold breeze that followed us uphill all day has quieted. All is still. I feel even the trees above us bowing closer to listen.
As I look around our circle I see that the others feel the same power, the same magic in their song. I see the looks of wonderment on my companions' faces as the sky grows dark on this moonless winter night and they become aware of the pale auras that emanate from our guides' countenances. Even Rumil has now dropped all pretense of being mortal. "They look like angels from a Renaissance painting," Sandy whispered to me in awe.
Surely there can no longer be doubt in anyone's mind that we are indeed in the company of Elves.
/i
Lindir's announcement this morning that the mortals must don blindfolds to proceed further was not well received, especially by Dieter. Dieter said emphatically that he must be shown where all of the entrances and exits were if he was expected to provide the security that he was enlisted for. Marian assured him that he would be shown as soon as she was - she herself did not yet know where the exact location of the "front door" was, having been blindfolded and led there herself. She assured him that they had three or four months with the elves to learn all they could before Dieter would be expected to be fully responsible for the safety of Methentaurond. That mollified him somewhat.
Didn't Lindir and Marian and I trust them by now, Mason demanded hotly.
"Such a deeper trust must still be earned," Marian said calmly and firmly, and I could hear the echo of my own brother's voice in her words and in the absolute command in her voice that left no room for further complaint. Haldir had taught her well. I doubted he had told her so. When Marian presented herself as the first to be blindfolded the others looked none too happy about it, but they did not protest. I would have volunteered to be blindfolded as well, but as Dieter pointed out, I already knew the way, now didn't I? I don't think he's finished being mad at me yet.
After leading the mortals a merry way in circles for as many hours as he could safely keep us outside, and pausing several times in the cold wind under the shelter of the trees to listen for intruders, Lindir tired of the ruse and finally brought us to the tunnel in the afternoon. With Marian's icy hand gripping my own like iron and Sandy's gripping Marian's, we all made it through. I remembered Marian's claustrophobia, and like in the underground passage behind the Sodaworks, I was proud of her budding courage and the support she gave to Sandy. By this time Marian had Sandy's undying devotion. I think she would have followed her anywhere.
Once through the passage Lindir ceremoniously instructed the wardens to remove the blindfolds and bowed to our Fellowship with his apologies. Thus the beauty of the fern grotto was revealed step by step to the instantly enchanted mortals for only the second time in all the ages since Arda had created it. I will admit that I had mixed feelings about this. I was proud to share its delicate allure with Marian and with those setting eyes on it for the first time. Yet I felt an unease and fear at the secrets we were imparting to these strangers. How would I feel in the next moments when we reached the mallorn doors graced with the images of Lord Celeborn and our Lady of Light, and opened them to Methentaurond itself? Would they have any inkling of how rare, how precious these panels were to us, not to mention our inner home that lay beyond them? Could they possibly learn to value them as we did? Once the doors were breached, there would be no going back for my brother, no moment in time to reconsider the painful decisions that had brought our Fellowship to this place.
I think Marian read some of my thoughts, for she squeezed my hand and gave me a concerned but reassuring smile. It was a comfort, Marian's smile. It told me how dear this place had become to her in a short time; how dear those inside had become to her - and one in particular, for I saw her eyes dancing with anticipation, casting a brightness and dewiness that could only be for him alone.
Sooner than I hoped we reached the doors themselves, and what the mortals called the optical illusion of the wall that hid them. I would have been amused athow they stepped back and forth and marveled at its cleverness and the skill of those who must have crafted it, if I had not been so reticent about revealing it. Many of the wardens shared my unease, though we were polite, of course, not to show it to our guests.
"Where are the guards?" Dieter asked, first looking up to the windy rim of the canyon and then stepping in again to peer around the enclosure that secreted the doors, its dim walls wavering in the flickering lantern light. "There have to be guards!" he said to me and Lindir, and looked around again in amazement that no one had stopped us. "I can't believe that you don't . . . " he started, but then stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing at the recess on one side of the door. "Wait," he whispered, and reached out to touch the wall, upon which part of the wall moved, and with one swift motion Orodrin had Dieter's arm behind his back and a long blade at his throat.
"Damn those cloaks!" Dieter swore as the rest of our group gasped and jumped at Orodren's swift flash of movement and at the second guard who now stepped forward from the other side of the doors. Orodren released Dieter and bowed to him and Lindir, laughing merrily. Dieter laughed good-naturedly with him, rubbing his neck. Marian rushed forward and greeted Orodren with a big hug, which set Orodren off balance almost as much as he had done to Dieter. I actually think he blushed. I am beginning to have a grudging respect for Dieter's sharp eyes. Sharp for a Man, that is.
Lindir stepped seriously forward and bade Marian to command the doors.
Surely, Marian gaped at Lindir, it was his right to do so, or mine, and not hers.
"Command them," Lindir insisted, and waving Marian forward, he stepped back.
"If only Bruno were here to spray mud on us all," she smiled sadly to me and Lindir. "Then again, no laundry," she added under her breath. I had no idea what she was murmuring about. She stepped up to the doors and ran a loving hand softly over the weathered wood. She reverently touched my Lord Celeborn's hand high in the mallorn tree, and then my Lady Galadriel's. This, too, comforted me greatly.
No one, elf or mortal, moved or made a sound. The moment was like a silent prayer to the Valar. Then Marian stepped resolutely back, raised her arms out to her sides, palms toward the doors, and closed her eyes. I was afraid that she was trying to remember the words. I said them in my head, willing my voice to reach her mind, if she could but hear me.
"Echuivo-honda mallorn, ad lasto-nin, panno-lin . . . elu . . . au nin!"1 she commanded with such truly horrible pronunciation that Lindir winced and I thought (dare I admit I almost hoped?) that the doors would revolt by locking themselves shut forever.
Slowly, the doors opened. The richly adorned arched corridor of my home stood revealed in the warmth of flickering torches. A large retinue of guards stood at attention, spaced at intervals all the way down each side of the wide passage, in full formal dress. Shields and helmetss and lances shone richly, the product of ages of polishing and care. A regal welcome and, as I am sure was Haldir's intention, an impressive show of force.
Lindir motioned Marian to enter, but she shook her head. "Lindir, I can't enter before you. This is your home. Allow us to follow you and your wardens, with our deepest thanks."
Lindir bowed to Marian and stepped over the marble threshold. "Elvellen, tulo-ammen au honda edhelen," he intoned in a voice laced with deep pride and emotion. "Elf-friends, come into the heart of the Elves. Behold, the last great Halls of Tar-Caranorn."
Marian took a deep breath and led the rest of us inside.
The mortals stepped over the threshold. They were a rag-tag group, walking there between the immaculately groomed sentinels, by contrast our bodies travel-weary, our clothes wrinkled and soiled. Unexpectedly, they were accompanied by a hot gust of wind that ruffled the tapestries and seemed a strange portent to those of us who followed. Whether such wind spoke of good or ill or of neither I could not tell.
As surely as that moment from ages past when the Fellowship of the Ring entered the Naith of Lothlorien and its days became few, I knew with certainty that Haldir was right: Another age was coming to an end. Methentaurond would change; the world would change, and we would at last return Home. It is difficult for us elves to accept, impossible for us not to be deeply saddened, by such inexorable change.
"Late afternoon wind-
Requiem for dying Day
Or Night's advent song?"
-Doho
1Awaken, heart (center) of the mallorn, and hear me, open your heart (feelings) to me!