Title: The Tale of Marian
Chapter: 31?
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: Some angst.
Author's Notes: This is a work in progress.
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
THE TALE OF MARIAN
Chapter 31 – If Dreams Could Make Wishes Come True
i
February 16
Making the fudge for Haldir wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I had brought the best chocolate, yes, but I had to ask Curulas for the rest of the ingredients. Cooking on an unfamiliar type of range with utensils I had never wielded before was nerve-racking. I missed my favorite saucepan. I wanted this fudge in particular to turn out perfect, and I only had one chance to get it right: Chocolate was not something readily on hand in Methentaurond, and what was here was guarded like gold and used only for very special occasions, Curulas told me. None such occasions have seemed to occur in the short time I have been here. Luckily, everything went fine. Rumil, who has an uncanny nose for chocolate, appeared in the kitchen this morning when it was almost ready. He has that kind of timing. He didn't say anything about the night before, and I didn't either. After I poured the fudge into the lovely dishes Curulas had chosen from the shelf I handed Rumil the spoon and Curulas the saucepan. They declared the confection perfectly acceptable. There was almost no need to wash the utensils afterward, they licked them so clean. What a relief. The only challenge remaining was to get my gift to Haldir before Rumil ate it.
I had been nervous about apologizing to Haldir all day and I wanted to get it over with. But I had spent several hours with Vanimë working on the cloak that she had promised me I would make her. Vanimë keeps her promises. I also discovered that Vanimë liked fudge almost as much as Allinde, having saved pieces for them both that they quickly accepted.
It was early afternoon by the time that I was able to find Haldir in the storehouse with Turnaur and a small host of assistants. Rumil had joined me though he had clearly not been invited. Large lidded baskets were being stacked and counted, and Turnaur was writing furiously in a notebook, then conferring with Haldir, nodding his head and writing some more. Perhaps, I thought, provisions were being checked. It must be difficult now for them now with so many more elves to feed.
Rumil's presence struck me as mildly curious, but I didn't bother to stop him and ask what it was all about. He would only have tried to pinch more chocolate. He had probably come to gloat over my apology. If I was lucky, I thought, I might just be able to shut the storehouse door in his face. But Haldir either didn't catch my harassed glance (doubtful), or he ignored it. When I requested a moment of his time he didn't invite me into the storehouse; he led me out into the kitchen gardens instead.
Haldir led me without speaking through the ivied archway into his private garden, taking the winding path along the clear running stream. Ferns perched in niches here and there on the soaring cavern wall gleamed damp and green above the stream in the cavern's glow. Birds that had found their way to the garden from the skylit grotto of the mallorn called delicately to each other and rustled in the small trees and shrubs around us. I had to run every few steps to keep up with Haldir, his pace was so swift. The silence between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, or maybe it was just that I was extremely uncomfortable. Rumil, of course, followed us.
The path widened into a small hillock with a white marble statue of a woman in long robes holding a young sapling in her hands. Benches were placed near the statue, arranged for quiet conversation. Several paths radiated from this point, and I could see Haldir's balcony just beyond. He chose this hillock to stop and wait for me silently. Clearly I was to speak first, and I wondered how to start. Rumil poked me in the ribs from behind, which did not help. I looked down a faint and seemingly minor path to a quiet fountain surrounded by white flowers that matched the ones in the bouquet that Joel had given me. The white flowers had looked out of place with the others in the bouquet. "The gardens are beautiful, My Lord," I began tentatively, "especially those pure white flowers over by the tall fountain. They look so soft, like velvet, and they smell heavenly."
Haldir looked directly down the path toward the flowers, giving me a perfect view of the proud, noble profile of his face. Maybe I should try to draw him again. "Their scent does not carry this far," Haldir said, turning back and appraising me curiously, "especially not to a mortal."
"I didn't say I could smell them from here, only that I know their scent," I replied, and looked at him expectantly. He said nothing. I had the delicate silver vase that I had found under my table by the door hidden in a large pocket in the folds of my gown.. I had a good idea who it had come from, and it hadn't been Joel. Joel obviously had no idea where these white flowers had come from: He wasn't a very good liar. And if Haldir had brought the flowers to me in the vase after he had pushed me away, then he must care for me after all, at least a little. But why would he leave them at my door and not return? And why wouldn't Rumil go away already?
Haldir looked at me strangely, I thought. "They have only been in bloom for two days. Perhaps beginning tomorrow, for a few more precious courses of Anar in the skies beyond, their perfume will carry throughout the caverns. These are the dearest to me of all the flowers in Arda, though their time is brief," he added quietly. Then his demeanor became formal and he turned away from the path, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Was the purpose of your audience only to discuss flowers?" he demanded, staring at me with an all too familiar tone of challenge in his voice.
I was still upset at him for the way he had treated me. But what I had done had been so much worse. Painfully embarrassed, I told him that no, I wanted to apologize for my behavior of the night before. I had used poor judgment.
"Need I point out that you have risked losing the respect of your entire fellowship by your actions?" Haldir's velvet-smooth voice was quiet but reprimanding. His words cut deeply into what small amount of dignity I was trying to regain.
"No, you don't," I replied with difficulty. "But it's your respect that I fear losing and wish to repair the most."
Haldir's silent stare made me believe that I had lost his respect, just as I had feared. This was the one thing that I couldn't bear. My eyes dropped to the clover-covered ground between us.
"Look, I know it's not going to help, but. . . once you brought me huckleberries." I looked back up at him, hoping for some softening of his manner, but received none. "I wanted to give you something, so I made you this," I said, holding out the plate of fudge I had brought with me. I believe most of it was still left.
Haldir's eyes widened, and he looked most uncomfortably first at me, then pointedly at Rumil. "I thank you for your offer, but I cannot accept this," he said to me reluctantly. "It would be inappropriate."
"I don't understand," I said in confusion. What could be inappropriate about chocolate? Did he dislike it? "Please, I insist. Even Rumil has told me that I make the best fudge he's ever eaten," I urged him.
Haldir looked accusingly at Rumil, who actually shifted from one foot to the other. If not for the painful disappointment I felt, I would have been amused at his discomfort under his brother's stare. "Rumil has not informed you that such a gift is offered only from an elleth to an ellon as a token of the deepest affection?"
So, I thought, seeing Rumil's mouth twitch at the corners, this was why Rumil had come. He had set me up, the insufferable rat!
"Or," Haldir continued, "that even in moderate amounts chocolate is a powerful aphrodisiac to elves?"
"But Rumil has eaten half a plate of my fudge at a time!" I blurted out, staring at Rumil in shock. Haldir turned to him for an explanation.
"Well, it has always been for a good cause," Rumil replied slyly. I could have killed him.
This was just ridiculous. "My Lord," I appealed to Haldir, "won't you accept my gift in the spirit it's offered?" I told him I had given some – small pieces – to both Allinde and Vanimë. Haldir accepting my gift was terribly, probably irrationally, important to me. If he rejected me yet again, I didn't know what I would do. Fall apart, I supposed.
"In what spirit is this gift offered?" Haldir then asked, his eyes deep and probing. Suddenly I was tongue-tied. I did have romantic intentions of the deepest sort, as he surely already knew. How could I deny it? But after he had pushed me away last night, how could I admit it?
"Take the fudge, Haldir, before she drops it," Rumil urged him. "Stop being rude."
"Go away," Haldir and I both said to Rumil at the same time.
"I dread the thought of leaving you both to your own devices," Rumil said, shaking his head. He bowed dramatically to both me and his brother. "But I am here to serve," he sighed. Before I could stop him he snatched another piece of fudge from the platter. Haldir and I watched him retreat further up the path and around a corner, his posture clearly conveying offense at his dismissal.
"I'm sorry, I had no idea. I'll take it back to the kitchen," I apologized to Haldir and put the platter on a nearby bench. Obviously I still had a lot of learning to do about elvish customs. It seemed I was always stumbling on them in the most awkward ways.
"The fault is not yours," Haldir said with a wry glance in the direction where Rumil had disappeared. "I have reconsidered, and I accept your apology, and your gift. I will enjoy it: a very small amount at a time," he added with a quirk of his lip. Then his demeanor became serious. "The fault was also not entirely yours last night. I offer you my apology as well," he said with a small bow.
Relief flooded through me and finally I was able to smile at him, although I was still embarrassed by my performance last night and confused by Haldir's reaction to me. I decided to pull the silver vase from my pocket and put it in his strong hand, instantly feeling the warmth and electricity of his skin on mine. He looked at me, waiting, holding both the vase and my hand in his own. "Thank you," I whispered to him.
Haldir placed the vase at the base of the statue and moved to the edge of the hillock, touching a rose branch that twined along the tall latticed back of one of the benches. It had begun to leaf. In another month it would be Spring, and the lattice would be covered with tender foliage and rose buds.
"Tomorrow Rumil and I must leave for a short time," he said as he looked across the gardens.
"Do you have to go?" I asked. Time was passing so quickly, and I had already seen so little of him.
He turned and looked down at me with what I thought was a rather sad smile.
"How long must you be gone? My Lord, I have never seen so many people in the caverns. You told me it would only be a matter of months until you leave. . . and do not return. Please tell me exactly when this will happen – I can't bear not to know any longer."
"Yestarë – the first day of the new year and the first day of the new Yéni.. Such is the appointed time." He saw me frown and so he explained to me that because of their long lives the elves divided time into Yéni of one hundred and forty-four years. Cirdan the Shipwright had vowed that he would await a sign from Haldir at the first day of each Yéni and at such a time as Haldir's own choosing, Lord Cirdan would come for him and the elves that remained behind.
What kind of sign would he send, I wondered? So I asked him if he meant that he could signal Lord Cirdan the right time, but not the right place.
"The place. . . Mithlond, where I bid him namarie, Marian. The Grey Havens that we cannot find – that indeed no longer exist." Lord Haldir's posture remained straight and proud, but I felt a wrenching tone of doubt that belied his regal bearing.
"Mason has studied a great deal about the coast of California," I said. "We were talking one evening about it. He told me that 10,000 years ago the coastline was ten or twenty miles further west than where it is now – the Farallon Islands, off the coast of San Francisco, are some of its last remnants. Have you seen the islands?" I asked him hopefully.
"We have searched them, and many others. There is no sign, not even one that mortal men would not see. If Mithlond was near as we believe, then it has surely washed away to sea," he said, his voice filled such longing that I drew near to him and grasped his arm in support.
"But what about the signal?" I asked again. "How are you to signal him?"
"The way has closed," he said in a painful tone that only hinted at the extent of what he must feel inside.
I looked up into his dark, intoxicating eyes, eyes that haunted my every waking and sleeping moment, and saw in them something that I could not bear to see - self-recrimination, and doubt. My heart melted, and I felt a stab of fear that was not only for him and the elves. If Haldir – strong, wise and lordly Haldir of Methentaurond - could doubt himself, then where did that leave me? How could I be confident and decisive, with all my inexperience and weaknesses, if he could not? A horrible shame came over me for thinking so selfishly. Did he owe it to me to be absolutely perfect at all times? Didn't he have the right to a private moment of doubt if he needed it? Buoyed by the thought that he might actually need me at this moment, I reached up to touch his brow.
"Haldir," I savored his name, caressing his cheek and trying to think of what I could say to him that would give him comfort. It was clear that he couldn't wait yet another one hundred and forty-four years to try again - elves were sickening and dying, slowly and surely, one precious life at a time. This Yéni - this Yestarë - was their only hope.
"Haldir, please don't despair. Neither this Lord Cirdan nor the Valar themselves would allow you to be deserted here when you most need their help, I'm sure of it," I told him. "I have faith in the same Light that you have been so true to, though we call it by different names. I have faith in you."
"Have I been true, Marian?" he asked me, and my hand slid from his golden hair as he placed the vase on the bench and rose to stand before the statue. "This image honors Yavanna, Vala of all plants and animals upon Arda" he said with a bow to her. " Have I committed some transgression toward her or the others upon the White Hill, that the way should now be closed?" he asked the stone image, but it remained silent. "Or is it that I have done nothing? I have tarried too long. Must all of us, like Callo, now bear the fate of the Valar's displeasure at my inaction?"
"I cannot believe that the Valar would be displeased with you, Haldir. You are a good and honorable elf. You are wise and brave and steadfast. You have done great deeds and overcome immense obstacles; Lindir has told me so." I got up and stood by him, taking his hand. "There must be some other reason this has happened. Perhaps it is a test of your resolve. If it is, you will pass this test, Haldir. You will defeat whatever stands in your way, or you will find a way to go around it."
"Amrun nin," he whispered and, leaning down and cradling my neck, placed such a tender and unexpected a kiss on my forehead that I could barely keep from gasping.
"What did you say?" I asked, my thoughts whirling with the emotions of a dream I'd had on one of my first nights in Methentaurond. What had he called me?
Haldir stepped back and his eyes momentarily widened. Then he composed himself, I thought, with difficulty.
"I heard you say that to me once before, but it was in a dream," I admitted to him, hoping that he wouldn't shut me out, withdraw behind that door where he kept his feelings captive and slam it shut as he so often did. I refused to let go of his hand. Somehow this word he had called me was important, I knew it. "Please tell me what it means," I entreated.
"What was this dream?" he asked me instead, searching my face with a look so intense and demanding that I wouldn't have been able to refuse if I had wanted to. Pity the ancient enemy that might have fallen under this elf's interrogation!
"Haldir, you're hurting my hand," I said in surprise at his tightening grip. Instantly, he relaxed his fingers. Drawing me over to sit on the garden bench, he sat next to me, our knees slightly touching. He had not let go of my hand, but instead cradled it carefully in both of his, turning Rumil's ring slowly around my finger. "Tell me," he repeated in a calmer voice that gave me the confidence to proceed.
I told him how we had been together in the white and yellow flowers under the mallorn tree in the cavern, the warm sun shining down on us through the oculus and a cool breeze bending the grass, and he had said "amrun nin" to me. I still felt too vulnerable to tell him the intimate details. I didn't want to make either him or myself uncomfortable. Then the field of flowers had grown larger, I told him, almost so much that we seemed to be in a different place entirely. A place on a green hill, filled with a clean, clear light and a warm gentle breeze; a place that felt ageless, unchanging and pure, and always would remain just as I saw it with him in my dream.
"Elanor and niphredil. Ceren Amroth. We were in Lothlorien," Haldir said, his voice guarded but filled with wonder. "At sunrise, perhaps - at amrun."
"I don't think so," I said. "It was afternoon, I think, and you. . . well, I don't really remember." But I remembered perfectly well: warm, sensuous kisses; the length of his body pressing me into the grass; the flower he trailed down my neck; his whispered endearments. It still seemed so much more than a dream. And now he had whispered one of those same endearments here in his garden, and I was awake. He had called me his sunrise.
"Did we speak further, in your dream on the hill?" he asked me.
You told me to be patient," I replied, and tried to gauge his reaction.
His mouth parted slightly, and his eyes became slightly hooded. For a moment he said nothing. Then he released my hand and sat back. "Advice I have imparted to you before. It seems yet to have taken hold," he admonished me. I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. With Lord Haldir it is difficult for me to recognize criticism from very dry humor. I chose to decide that I was being teased.
"When is Yestarë?" I asked him.
"It is your 28th day of March."
"So soon?" I cried out before I could stop myself, and leaned toward him to grasp his knees as though I could somehow keep him from rising and leaving me. "But that is only weeks away!"
"Yes, Marian, it is," he said in a solemn tone. "I believe all who have chosen to come to Methentaurond to join us have arrived. Even now Turnaur stores provisions for our journey."
I panicked. "Haldir, there are some things that I simply can't be patient about, or wise, or strong." I thought, this could be my only chance. So, just like my swim in the Linluin, I dove in. Consequences be damned! "I know you have to leave. I know you long to go home at last, but you must allow me one moment of weakness to tell you that I can't bear to see you go! I just can't!" I cried, and I jumped up and walked to the edge of the stream, horrified that I was breaking down in front of him, being everything that he had tried to teach me not to be.
Then he was behind me, holding my shaking body against his chest, his arms warm and strong around mine, his long silken hair falling over my shoulder like a gleaming waterfall of gold.
"I love you," I gasped, and he stiffened against me. There it was: I had said it. There was no going back. Now he would have nothing but pity for me. No pride, no respect, but only pity. He would probably never touch me again, only ever see me again if he had to. I had ruined everything. I was surprised he hadn't already pushed me away.
"Amrun nin," he said, his warm voice falling over me like a soft blanket. His chest rose as he breathed in slowly against my back.
"I'm not asking you to say anything," I said brokenly. "I just think that when someone is loved, they deserve to know it."
With the heaviest of sighs, he turned me around and held my head firmly in his hands, forcing me to look into those fathomless eyes, dark and swirling with such a depth of emotion that I was almost afraid.
"To love is not a weakness, Marian. This dream," Haldir said to me with a tenderness that belied the turbulent storm behind his eyes and the pressure that I could see was welling beneath his chest. "You did not tell me all of it. Let me finish it for you. You did not tell me how we lay together in the warm grass," he began, and my eyes flew wide. How could he know? "or that I kissed your lips thus," he said, and I gasped again as he enfolded me in his arms and captured my lips softly with his own, warm and firm, "or your neck thus," he purred deeply as he trailed sweet, tender kisses down to my collarbone so slowly that I could hardly stand. "Or that the patience I demanded of you had nothing to do with the Lady, but with the woman who arched so eagerly beneath me."
"How. . . how do you know this?" I asked, feeling myself blush deeply and daring to hope that I was not dreaming even then.
"Because I know what you dreamed," he said, holding me tightly against him. He was breathing almost as heavily as I was, his nostrils flaring. "It was in my dream, too. That dream, and others that I now know we have shared. Together."
"But how is this possible?" I asked, wishing beyond reason that he would tell me that he loved me too. Hadn't Lindir told me that elves sometimes dreamed the same dreams as their mates, but after they had wed?
"I do not fully understand," he replied, drawing back from me, "how it is that our souls know and welcome each other's, yours and mine. Such a thing has never happened to me, not in all the ages I have lived," he said with awe. "And now you shame me to have hidden the depth of my love for you. I did not wish to hurt you. Understand, Marian, that I wish above all else in Arda to spare you this," he said in a tone now filled with both love and regret.
"To spare me what?" I asked him. "Haldir, I've been so confused. Sometimes I hope and think that you care for me; other times you shut me out completely. Now you tell me that you were trying to protect me by pretending not to love me?"
"Marian," he said tenderly and sadly, caressing my hair with his strong hands so that I closed my eyes with the pain and the pleasure of it.
"I hoped to spare you the bitter fruit of such a love as to love an elf. I believed that if I turned you away that you would look elsewhere, and be happy. But I see now that this is not to be. Some fate, some will much greater than mine draws us together. Nonetheless," he said unhappily, "the promise I have made to go into the West binds me stronger still, as your promise must bind you to your companions. I cannot give you what your heart needs; I cannot leap to the call that your soul so stubbornly bids me to, though I stand at every moment on the very brink of falling. For to fall could be the ruin of all here under my care. I have sworn an oath; I cannot stay."
I opened my eyes again, and saw with that a single tear was falling down his cheek, and I reached to his face and wiped it away, my heart swelling with love for him.
"I know," I said simply. "But we can be together now, and cherish the memory of each other after you have gone. We still have a little time, at least, to love each other, if that is what you want."
"Do not ask this of me! In dreams only do I dare to love you as I would in waking. I will not dishonor you, only to turn away and leave you alone," he said firmly as though he was assuring himself of the fact.
"Haldir," I reassured him, "you could never dishonor me." But he shook his head.
Then I asked him, although I knew that he would say no: "Let me come with you tomorrow, please."
"You know your place is here, with your companions," he said with wrenching finality. "Go now and repair with them the damage you have wrought. Take Rumil with you. We will speak more of this later."
"But Rumil has gone," I said, looking all around the garden and wishing I didn't have to go.
"He is waiting just ahead around the bend," Haldir told me, and of course he was.
/i
i
All the rest of the morning and the afternoon I was unbearably happy and unbearably sad all at once: Haldir loved me! Haldir refused to love me! I had spoken before my audience with Haldir to Yasmin, Roger, and Sandy. After I forced myself to walk away from him - every step one of sheer will and determination, feeling pulled back toward him like a magnet but knowing I had to find Rumil and complete what I had started - I followed Haldir's advice and sought out Arianna; and even Joel. I apologized to them all, and assured them that I wouldn't repeat such a drunken exhibition again, with anyone. Dieter was still outside so I couldn't talk to him. Joel said that I had nothing to be sorry for; soon I would realize that the wine had only released me to act out my true desires. I'm losing patience with him. I think I'll stay away from him for a while.
Only Mason refused outwardly to forgive me. He was convinced that Joel now had unlimited access and influence over me, and told me so in quite an unflattering manner. Now if I take Mason's side in anything he'll think I'm trying to pacify him; if I take Joel's side, he'll think I'm being a tramp. Unfortunately it seems like no matter what the subject, Mason and Joel express directly opposite opinions, so there is little to be won in either case. To have put myself in such a weak position is my own damned fault. Haldir was right to be disappointed in me. I had my own opinion, of course, my own judgment. I must try to keep it separate from my concerns over how they would react to my decisions. I could do this, I knew. In my job – my former job - I'd always been the negotiator, the one in the middle who must stay objective and render decisions fairly for all. I caould do the same now. Even so, I knew that despite the others' words of assurance I still had a long way to go to regain their complete trust, to convince them that I wouldn't now unfairly favor Joel.
By the time that I arrived in the Hall for dinner I was emotionally and physically exhausted. Surprisingly, neither Vanimë nor Lord Haldir disappeared through that arch at the back of the Hall after the meal. They both stayed to hear Lindir continue the tale of Beren and Luthien, the mortal and the elf that were so in love with each other, and retrieved a Silmaril together. Was Haldir staying this one time because of the feelings he'd revealed to me in the morning? They sat across the short width of the Hall from me and Rumil, where we could clearly see each other. Haldir gave me a solemn, thoughtful nod. Vanimë nodded as well. I felt her eyes studying me, until Lindir began and she turned in his direction.
Not until Lindir was well into weaving the tale of the frightful flight from Morgoth's stronghold, Angband, and the retrieval of the Silmaril from that horrible, monstrous dog that had guarded its Gate; not until Lindir sang of Beren standing before Thingol and being granted Luthien's hand, did I realize the full import of what it meant for an elf to give her heart to a mortal. Had I even been listening to Lindir until now? All of these nights that he had sung of these two lovers, had I refused to hear and see what he was telling of in my mind's eye? The words came tumbling like a rock slide down onto the small, frail temple of my heart: Luthien had given her very immortality, the very essence of her being, to love Beren. She had chosen to become a mortal, doomed to die to stay with him.
I turned to look at Haldir, finding it difficult to breathe and feeling a leaden weight settle from my heart to the pit of my stomach. He was looking back at me, his eyes shining too brightly, his features too tightly controlled. So this is what he meant when he said that he couldn't give his heart to me; that he couldn't leave if he did. With wrenching clarity, I finally saw what loving me would do to him.
It's so unfair! Why does it have to be this way? I'm sorry I'm saying it, but God isn't fair – the Valar aren't fair! Why do we dream of each other if we're fated to be apart? I don't believe in fate; I don't. I believe people make their own lives. Still, Haldir won't have a life if he loves me – no life at all. Lindir's voice and harp faded into oblivion. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I drank in every ounce of Haldir that I could at that moment. It was a split second suspended in time that I think I will carry with me always. This was the turning point, this moment. I loved him, more deeply than I could fathom, but I would have to give up my hopeless fantasies of him, and move on. I lied to myself that I would be able to do it; that I would be able to stop dreaming through every moment of every day and night of being loved in return by this magnificent elf.
I saw Haldir rise to come toward me. I shook my head no. I was afraid for him to be near me; terrified for him to touch me, of what it might do to him. I saw him stop sharply as though I had physically struck him, and my vision blurred; perhaps I went numb. The next I knew, Rumil was with me in my talan, stroking my hair and rocking me back and forth. I remember staring at the wall; burying my cheek in his shoulder. I remember asking him why he could make love to all those women and not lose his immortality, but Haldir couldn't. He told me that except for that part of it that he reserved for me and the rest of his family, his heart was his own. He didn't know if Haldir could make love to me without losing his heart. It seemed to me that Haldir had already decided that he couldn't. Always the flatterer, Rumil said that it wouldn't be easy for anyone to love me without losing their heart. Then he added, "except for Joel." That made us both laugh. I don't know what I'll do without Rumil when he leaves. I'm sure I lean on him too much.
/i
i
February 17
I remember waking up and feeling hopeless, and sick. Haldir and Rumil have gone, and I've caught a nasty cold. Who knows where it came from - obviously not from the elves. I'm staying in my talan today, in bed. I just can't face anything or anyone right now.
Allinde came by earlier to see why I had not come to the library, saw that I'm sick, and panicked. I had to promise her that I'm not going to follow Callo's example and fade away; that I'll get over it in a few days and would she please excuse me for being grumpy and tell everyone to leave me alone. Instead, my sweet elvish friend went straight to Lomion and Joel. All three of them came back, with Narwen and chicken broth in tow. I looked like hell, and I didn't want company. I just wanted to sit here in my blankets and feel sorry for myself, for numerous reasons.
Lomion and Allinde fussed over me, all the while Lomion lamenting that elvish medicine and the infusions that he and Joel were working on were for injuries, not sickness, unless it were some sickness of the soul - light forces versus dark, the Valar against Morgoth, that kind of thing, I suppose. I wasn't paying much attention. I did catch the main point that if I had been stabbed in the heart by a poisoned Orc blade that the elves could help me, but they had no magic remedies for a stuffed-up nose and a pounding sinus headache.
In the meantime Joel stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest and stared at my bleary eyes and red nose. When Lomion was done fussing, Joel declared that there should be no cure or easing of discomfort for the common cold: Colds made mortals strong to fight off "real" sicknesses. I, Marian, would just have to tough it out and quit complaining. This last pronouncement seemed to be delivered with a large measure of glee. It seems I was receiving payback for my rejection of our doctor last night.
I don't recall complaining, only asking to be left alone. I gratefully accepted the soup from Narwen. Then I threw them out.
Later, because she just couldn't help herself, Allinde stopped in one more time and left a book on my chair. She said that she was there if I needed to talk; I had but to call for her. I coughed back a doubtful "thank-you, mother," which made her laugh like pretty tinkling bells. There's nothing she can say or do to change anything, but I'm grateful to her for trying to raise my spirits nonetheless.
/i
Of course I overheard Marian and Haldir in the garden. I was glad that Haldir had not traded Marian's heart for the good of Methentaurond. I had known that he had too good a heart not to tell her in the end, once he saw what I already knew - that Marian's love for him was as steadfast and undeniable as the star of Elendil was bright. Still, I wished out loud as we jogged under the silver vessel of the moon down the forest trail toward the sea, that he would tell Marian that she had grown immeasurably in her new role. Haldir slowed to run beside me and agreed that she was unusually humble for a mortal – her ambitions were for Methentaurond, not for herself. He was sure she could become even better and wiser in the few weeks we had left. And she had ground to recover with the Fellowship. Arda's greatest need was for him to teach Marian to be a better leader than he was after he was gone. If he gave her too much approval, now that we were so near the end, she would stop fighting to succeed. He would not squander that precious time by placating her.
Haldir moved ahead of me again on the trail before I could give him a well-deserved scowl. I told myself I must be patient. Though I was concerned for Marian's confidence about her abilities, she was tough and persistent, most so when driven to prove herself. It was not her fledgling belief in herself that tugged at my heart; it was what her love for Haldir was doing to her own.
Like Vanimë and Orophin, I had put my trust in my brother's wisdom countless times and had never been disappointed. I would continue to do so now.
I flew along the faint path behind Haldir, eventually basking in the freedom and joy of running through the cool, green forest. Spring was near, I could smell it; feel it in the damp earth under the trees. Arda was awakening from the sleep of winter; under the ground, inside the kelvar and olvar where it could still be felt but not seen, gathering itself to shower for a brief time those golden buds and shoots that would so quickly turn to green. Ah, the golden mellyrn of Lothlorien! How I missed them! Yet Tar Caranorn was quiet, stately and beautiful, and its trees had welcomed us. It was a fair home in its own way.
i
February 18
I've been so sick I forgot all about the jewel. Today I coughed my way over to the alcove and checked the box, expecting the jewel to have burned through to China by now. I was astonished to see that the box has not been damaged at all. What a relief, and a mystery. The jewel seems to have found a home in the ancient mallorn wood of the box. I don't think I need to worry about its safe-keeping any more.
I feel better just looking at it. If Mason ever saw this he'd drop his fascination with the lanterns in a second: All the more reason to keep it secret, and safe.
/i
i
February 19
Finally today I felt well enough physically to join Allinde, Sandy, Arianna and Yasmin at the baths. I didn't want to leave my talan, but I would have to face the world sometime, and I really had no more excuses that anyone would believe. Besides, who knew what trouble Mason and Joel had been up to while I'd been sick. Bickering again, Sandy told me. "About what?" I asked, and Arianna replied, "About almost everything." If she were me, Sandy said, she would get back on her feet as soon as possible. Besides, she laughed, everyone was tired of listening to them gripe about each other, especially Vanimë.
I eased stiffly into the pool where the water was the hottest, and closed my eyes in relief as my muscles began to relax. This was exactly what I needed. I felt for the nearest vial of soap and held it under my nose, grateful that I could actually smell its floral scent, a little. But Allinde took it away and handed me another whose eucalyptus essence I breathed in deeply.
Sandy lathered herself and declared that these were the loveliest soaps she had ever smelled. She asked Allinde how she had made them. Allinde explained that they were made from natural plant oils, not chemicals and artificial scents. She would teach Sandy how to make them if she wished. I commented that eucalyptus oil must be hard to come by, since it grew much further south, near the coast. Rumil would occasionally bring it to her when he traveled, Allinde explained.
"These must be the most expensive soaps on the planet," Yasmin said. "Not many people can afford to have things of this quality where I come from."
"The love and care put into their making make them worth having. Mortals need to slow down and enjoy the quality of life more."
"No one has time to have quality in everything," Yasmin argued. "Most soaps are made as cheaply and quickly as possibly for the most profit."
"So this profit – this money – does it make your life more enjoyable?" Allinde asked.
"No. But it's difficult to take more time to achieve quality when you have less than a hundred years to live," Yasmin said.
"Is it not the quality of time that is important," Allinde replied, clearly not understanding Yasmin's point of view, "not the amount? Is not what we are doing now together worth the time spent doing it?"
"Yes!" Arianna said, and splashed Sandy.
"Each elf has special tasks to perform, to free others to pursue their own interests. Do not mortals also?" Allinde asked us.
Sandy replied, "Yes, but there isn't time to do all of the fun things in life, to nourish the spirit when we have to work so much. Believe me, we would if we could."
Allinde tilted her head quizzically at Sandy. "Why do mortals separate their spirits from the concerns of their minds and bodies? It isn't healthy. Perhaps," she said to me with a sudden thought, "that is why you get sick! We thank the Valar every day, and put our love for them into everything we do."
Yasmin rolled her eyes. I would have kicked her if she'd been close enough. "You can't be objective when religion is imposed on reality. Have you SEEN the Valar?"
"What you call religion," Allinde raised her chin and answered as if to a child, "we see in each leaf, each drop of water every moment. Your science, your religion – all are part of the same reality. To separate them is to lose perspective, lose the path to the Light. No,we have not seen one of the Valar or Maiar in Arda for a very long time, not in the form they take when they wish to be seen. No mortal I have known has ever seen them. Yet they are part of the earth all around us. Mortals, even the faithful, you are in too much of a hurry perhaps to see this. I do not know if I can help you see, but I can help you learn how to hear again. You have only forgotten how. You must learn to slow down, and listen."
"How?" Yasmin said in exasperation. "Are you going to have us all meditate or something?"
"That may be a path for some of you. I do not yet know," Allinde replied with an effort I had not seen her need before. She seemed tired. Or perhaps Yasmin's challenges had lessened her usually ebullient frame of mind.
Sandy, thankfully, interrupted and made us all laugh. "Wow, who knew what talking about soap would lead to around here?"
Allinde stayed behind with me for a moment after the others had left.
"Rumil spoke to me before he left," she said. "If you wish, you can come to the library at any time, and we can talk by the fire."
I hugged her and thanked her for being such a good friend, though I knew there was nothing she could do.
"You seem tired," I told her. "Is there anything that I can do for you?"
"Oh, only just a little," she laughed. "I wish to take a few books to Valinor with me. I am having more trouble than you can imagine deciding which ones. Perhaps you can come to the library tomorrow and help me decide."
I agreed, and told her she should take as many as she wished.
"The journals of the Elves in Arda should remain in Arda, with you and the others," she insisted. "I trust you all to use them well. I will only be taking a few – small books of poetry and verse."
/i
i
February 20
Rumil and Haldir have only been gone a few days, but I miss them both terribly. When my hands are idle – which isn't often – I draw to keep from pacing through Methentaurond worrying about them. I think I've finally drawn a likeness of Lord Haldir that I can be proud of. It is a portrait of him in the red cloak and armor that are displayed in his study, with an abstract background of the white flowers he loves so much. I did it while sitting high in the mallorn tree in the cavern one afternoon. Silly, I know, but it comforts me to sit in the branches of this tree that I know loves him too. I showed it to Sandy and she told me that I have captured his eyes and regal bearing. She agreed that it would be a fine present for him when he returns.
/i
i
February 21
It was while I was walking along the lake to the greenhouses this morning that I overheard a most amusing conversation. Afraid I might be becoming more like Rumil every day, I stopped just out of sight at the door to the nearest greenhouse and listened anyway.
"Yasmin, what ARE you doing?" Joel asked as he entered through another door.
"Be quiet, doctor. I'm trying to listen to a tree," Yasmin replied. I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from whooping for joy.
"Are you serious? I see that you are. And what does the tree have to say?"
"It says to make you go away so we can continue our conversation in private. Now quit ruining the moment."
"Yasmin is talking to trees," Joel marveled to Roger as he, too, entered the greenhouse.
Roger replied quite matter-of-factly, "Of course she is. I talked to my trees all the time in Chile."
"Yes, but they didn't talk back, now did they?" Joel scoffed.
"Didn't they?" Gladrel asked calmly as she approached the group from one of the herb beds, her feet silently stepping on the gravel path. "They told you when they were happy, or sick, or thirsty. . . "
"Yes, but those things are obvious to any gardener," Roger said. "Still, sometimes when their boughs swayed in the breeze, I almost thought I could hear them whisper to each other," he said with a bit of homesickness in his voice."
"I feel the same about the redwoods," I added, walking in the door.
"Why wouldn't you expect this one to speak to Yasmin?" Gladrel asked Joel. "She at least is trying to listen to it."
"Then please excuse the interruption," Joel said impatiently. "It's you I'm looking for anyway," he said to me. "Lomion and I would like you to try something."
"Alright," I said curiously. "What's this about?"
"I'll tell you on the way. It isn't urgent," he assured the others as he took my arm, "just an experiment."
"Is anything wrong?" I asked Joel as he urged me along the path by the lake. "Do we need to hurry?"
"Just professional curiosity," he said vaguely. "That, and Dieter may be somewhat uncomfortable."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, stopping and shaking my arm loose from Joel's grasp. "I won't go one step further until you tell me."
"Alright, alright," he raised his hands defensively. "In a nutshell: Dieter just returned with Orodren and the other wardens from their shift in the woods. Dieter was hurt. . . no, don't overreact, he just has a minor gash on his arm from descending a tree flet on the way back: He hit a branch on the way down. Quite embarrassing for him, I'm sure, but not serious, just painful. I'm sure those nasty redwood slivers sting like hell. The others brought him straight to Lomion since they were so close to home."
"Why do you need me?" I asked as I resumed walking quickly along with Joel. "He should have been healed before now. What's Lomion waiting for?"
"For you," Joel said with a sly grin, and he wouldn't tell me anything more until we reached Lomion's talan. By then I was thoroughly angry at him.
"Dieter!" I exclaimed as I entered and saw him lying on the bed with his arm propped up on Lomion's lap. There was a short but nasty and swollen rip in the flesh on the inside of his upper arm. "Lomion, whatever is going on?" I asked the gentle elf presiding over him with a poultice of herbs.
"Come, Hiril Marian," Lomion said, and getting up, he waved me into his chair and rested Dieter's arm on my lap. Joel and Lomion drew two other chairs up to Dieter's bed. Lomion handed me the poultice. I had no idea what to do with it. I felt stupid, sitting there with Dieter's injured arm on my lap and a doctor on each side of me – all I could think of was that Joel must have finally driven Lomion stark raving mad.
"It's alright Marian," Dieter told me. "I agreed with them that we should wait for you. It doesn't hurt – too much. My pride hurts a lot more," he chuckled.
"Is someone going to tell me what's going on?" I threatened.
"I tried to do it but it doesn't work for me. Lomion thought, since you are an adaneth – from a long line of elf-friends, as he puts it - that you might be able to heal him," Joel explained, sort of.
"Heal him how? You're the doctors," I said to Lomion.
"You are descended from both Arwen Undomiel and King Aragorn," Lomion said. "Though an age and more has passed and you may not know it, perhaps you still have something of their healing abilities." I thought of Haldir healing my arm, and purifying the waters of the Linluin. Could I really learn to do the same?
"You are perhaps the only one I might pass this skill on to," Lomion said hopefully, and he cleaned my left hand with herbs and a bowl of warm water. "Place your hand on Dieter's wound, and close your eyes."
I did what Lomion told me to, and listened to his hypnotic voice guiding me. "Breathe deeply. Focus only on my voice and on your hand that lies on Dieter's skin. Clear your mind of all other thoughts. Breathe. Feel as one with Arda, the plants, the trees, the ocean waves, the clouds, the rivers. Breathe, breathe with the sighing winds on the face of the Sea. Now reach out to the Valar with your heart and your mind. Feel the grace that is given to you. Feel the Light of Iluvatar welling up inside of you. Now take hold of that Light, move it from your mind, down your shoulder, down your arm and into your hand. Feel the warmth and energy moving out to your fingertips. Now push it gently out of your palm, your fingers, into Dieter's wound. Infuse him with it; let it make him whole again."
I heard only Lomion's voice and the pressure of my palm on Dieter's arm. I breathed deeply, and visions of the ocean and the redwoods, sunsets and sun-sparkled streams I had known appeared in my mind's eyes, fading and growing into each other. I felt my heart and my mind fill with warmth, and a glowing energy I tried to identify, but couldn't. Wrapping my mind around this feeling as best I could, I actually felt it travel down my arm to my hand, and the tips of my fingers warmed like I was holding them comfortably over a glowing fire. Then, the sensation was gone. Blinking to clear my mind, I opened my eyes as if awaking from sleep, and removed my hand from Dieter's arm. The wound was still there, raw as ever, and Lomion sighed.
"But I felt it, Lomion, I really did," I said as I put the poultice back on Dieter's arm, sorry to disappoint him. "I felt something."
"Most likely it was just hypnotic suggestion, Marian," Joel said gently.
"Yes, do not be sorry, it was a worthy attempt," Lomion said. Removing the poultice and placing his own hands on Dieter's arm, his aura brightening momentarily, he healed Dieter's arm himself, to Dieter's amazed thanks.
"It seems," Joel said in disappointment as he examined Dieter's arm, "that there are some things that we aren't meant to learn; some things in the elves' natures that they simply can't pass to us." And he thanked Lomion for trying.
"But there are many things that we can continue to teach you, and you are the best of students," Lomion said to Joel. "Come back this afternoon, and we will continue. You, guardian," he said to Dieter as he escorted us out of his talan, "are now free to go as well."
"Until later, guardian," I praised Dieter as we walked across the nearest bridge and he took a side trail: straight to the library and Arianna was my guess.
"Well, in a way it's good that I can't heal people like the elves do," I said to Joel.
"You would be a sensation," he said temptingly.
"I would be a freak. We would never be taken seriously. Our Fellowship would be considered a complete hoax."
Joel stopped and spread his arms wide to encompass the caverns. 'Come one and all to the revival tent tonight and see the amazing Marian.' "
"The Cult of Marian."
"Marian the Mysterious."
"We could charge admission."
From the Song "Time in a Bottle," by Jim Croce
Anar: the sun.