Title: The Tale of Marian
Chapter: 35?
Rating: PG 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: Moderate angst.
Author's Notes: This is a work in progress.
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
THE TALE OF MARIAN
Chapter 35 – Bounded by Love and by Need
March 12
We slept last night, but mine was the deep, dreamless sleep of complete exhaustion. No matter; waking close in Haldir's arms surpassed even the most vivid and detailed vision.
"I am awake," he said in an amused voice as I tried to lie still in spite of my stiff muscles and awkward position, "as is Lomion. He has entered twice already since I awoke. He is intent, it seems, on removing us from his care." Haldir had begun to arrange my hair on his shoulder as he spoke, but then slipped from the bed and drew me up as well.
He stretched up straight and tall, looking completely recovered from his ordeal. "Today is a day for decisions," he declared. Almost as visibly as I saw him cinch the leather and mithril girdle around his waist, I sensed the set of his strong brow, full mouth and broad shoulders receive the mantle of his authority and the weight of his responsibilities. "I will call a council for the greater part of the day. We will gather at dinner – all Elves and all Men within these walls. Join me then."
"All of us, even Mason?" I asked him.
He took me by the shoulders and gave me one of those measured stares that made me feel he was reading my very soul like an open book. "All of us," he repeated solemnly. Kissing me on the forehead, he strode from the room.
He could have at least kissed me on the lips.
I didn't see either Haldir or Rumil until late afternoon, and only then because I was forced to interrupt those in the council chambers before dinner with some very painful news. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After leaving the restful haven of Lomion's rooms I carefully returned the peach gown and slippers to their place in the wardrobe. I changed into jeans and a tank top and left my now mid-length graying hair down without braids of any sort, trying to appear as un-elf-like as possible (not a difficult thing for me to do). I didn't want to cause Haldir any further distress. I checked the mallorn box, soothed that the Silmaril – I might as well call it what I think it is - was there as it should be. Should be? – I berated myself then as I still do now for thinking that in my possession was where such a priceless treasure should be. But where else? There is no tall statue in Methentaurond with an open, empty hand in which it should slip neatly into; no Elven altar with an empty stand in which to place it. Yet I'm afraid that I may be growing too attached to it, hoarding it for no good reason. It appeals to me – who wouldn't find it fascinating? Should I give it to the Elves? I have little time left to decide. And will it be safe in their hands, unsure as they are of the rescue they're counting on? What makes me think that I know what's best for the Elves in anything? A leap of faith – what had I been thinking?
Disgusted with myself, I closed my talan door and stood on the path outside. The soft, cool breeze floating through the caverns was as silent as the telain and the paths around them. I decided to go looking for Allinde first – I hadn't seen my dear friend in days. I jogged first to her talan and then to the library, but she wasn't there. I'm proud to have kept up my jogging. I run with Arianna often, feeling my age trying to keep up with her. I must be able to keep up with the elves when they leave, for I've decided I will go with them to the coast whether Haldir agrees or not. I wouldn't be able to stay here, not knowing if they got away safely. Even more than that, I will be near Haldir as long as I possibly can, before I have to let go. Oh damn, my eyes start to water every time I think about it. I'm making a mess.
I thought perhaps Allinde might be part of the council that Haldir had sequestered within the Council Chambers. As it was surely mealtime, I decided that if anyone knew who had been summoned by Haldir, it would be Turnaur or others working in the kitchens. But he told me that Allinde was not within the chambers.
I went back to the quiet of the library by way of the baths and the particular gardens she enjoyed, and paced until it was clear that I was an unwelcome distraction to the solitary elf studying manuscripts at the large central table. Halting my impatient steps so suddenly that I startled him, I wondered if she had gone back to the vault to look at the Palantir. Then I relaxed. I'd heard that Haldir had sealed the chamber both by physical means and by ancient words of command, and set new guards as well. Allinde wouldn't have been able to enter.
I left the library and wandered along the quiet paths among the tree-columns, my mind turning to the Anor Stone once more. Why hadn't Aragorn's sons, or even Cirdan, known that this palantir had housed evil? Clearly Haldir had discovered this soon enough. Maybe, I reasoned, they had simply never tried to use it. I don't want to bring up this question with Haldir so soon after his "encounter", and I'm not sure I ever should.
Passing back through the carved forest of telain again, the midday glow of the caverns casting gentle leaf-shaped shadows along the suspended platforms under my feet, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye at the door to Joel's talan. What would he be doing there at this time of day? Hesitating, I decided that I should tell him to spread the word about the gathering tonight.
I crossed the short bridge to his door and knocked. No one answered. I was sure that I had seen someone enter. I called out to Joel. If someone else was inside, they would have some explaining to do. I looked around for anyone, hoping Mason hadn't somehow escaped and meant Joel harm. My heart beating faster, I called out again that I knew someone was there, and they had better open the door.
At last the door cracked a few inches, and Roger peeked his balding head out, effectively blocking my view inside. In an uneasy manner, Roger told me he was glad to see me well, but he didn't open the door further.
"Roger, what are you doing here? Where's Joel?" I asked.
"He's here," Roger said, still not opening the door.
"Well, can I see him?" I asked, beginning to suspect that something was not quite right.
"Ah. . . perhaps later, Doña Marian," he objected in a distinctly guilty voice.
I put my hands on my hips. "What's going on?" I demanded.
"Going on? Nada. Todo está bien," Roger lapsed nervously into Spanish. "Hasta luego," he added, and stepped back to shut the door.
"Not later, now," I insisted, putting my foot in the door. "Joel? Let me in."
"You might as well, Roger," Joel said tiredly from around the door. "She'll need to know anyway."
Shrugging his shoulders, Roger swung the door open and stood aside. At first the sight that greeted me seemed perfectly normal. Allinde, Sandy and Joel were sitting together in his front room.
At last! I called her name happily and told her that I had been looking everywhere for her. Then the situation began to sink in. Allinde reclined on Joel's couch, propped up with pillows. Sandy was holding her hand and Joel was nearby, returning something to his black physician's bag. I came closer to Allinde. She didn't appear to be her bubbly, energetic self, but laid listlessly on the couch, her skin tone flatter than the soft aura I was accustomed to seeing around her.
"Marian," she greeted me rather breathlessly. "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you again. The sleep appears to have done you well," she grinned knowingly. Her eyes twinkled a bit, but faintly.
"Allinde," I choked, and my heart began to break. Roger, bless his heart, led me by the arm to a much-needed chair at her side.
"Please don't be upset Marian," she pleaded. "Really, it's nothing. I'm just a little. . . tired."
I took her hand and looked at Joel. His grim expression confirmed my worst fears. Memories of how Callo had looked when I first met him sprang into my thoughts. Allinde didn't look nearly as bad, but the signs of what was to come were there in front of me.
"Why aren't you with Lomion?" I demanded, beginning to grow angry at Joel.
"She didn't want to worry anyone," Sandy said calmly, patting Allinde's other hand. "She's just a little under the weather, so she asked us to bring her here until she feels better."
Sandy didn't understand. "Elves don't get sick," I reminded her, trying to quell my rising panic for Allinde's sake.
"Marian, I'll be fine," Allinde insisted, squeezing my hand weakly, but I could see the knowledge of what was wrong in her eyes despite her attempts to hide it.
"You know elves don't get sick!" I blurted at Joel, my anger at him rising. "Have you even told Lomion, or Lindir?" I asked him. Lindir, I knew, would be devastated.
Joel rose from his bag and grabbed me by the arm. "Excuse us," he said bluntly, steering me outside and closing the door.
"You're upsetting Allinde," he scolded me. "Calm down and pull yourself together."
"Upsetting her?" I hissed back at him. "Joel, she's dying!"
"Not if I can help it," Joel said vehemently, his voice revealing both pain and determination.
I thought about an early discussion that we'd had – an argument, really – about the things Joel wanted to learn from Lomion. The elves had millennia worth of miraculous cures for injuries, but they'd had no need to fight sickness. Joel had wanted to work on trying to heal elves who might become sick. Lomion repeated to Joel his words to me about the foolhardiness of treating the symptoms instead of the causes. Joel argued that it could take decades, centuries to cure the causes, if people would even make an effort. Not everyone was like our fellowship, he declared. Most people only paid attention to what would get them instant personal gratification. He didn't want to wait – he wanted to learn to treat the symptoms now, when it might be needed.
I'd disagreed with him quite strongly. I told him that we had to believe that people would try to, or why had we even come here? When they saw that life and health would be better for all of us if we lived more harmoniously with the earth, I told him, it WOULD be a personal, immediate concern. Besides, I said, the elves would be leaving in a matter of months, how likely was it that any more would become ill first?
If we could cure the elves' illness, Joel pressed, they could stay. They could help us, be part of our society.
How many more elves would die before Joel and others could even hope to find a cure, if ever? Lomion had been trying for years. The elves would not be accepted by the Second Children, Lomion insisted. The mortals would fear them, and treat them horribly. They would fade.
I would change my viewpoint, Joel said to me bitterly, if I knew someone who was sick right now. Little had I known until this afternoon how prophetic his words would be.
"I want nothing more right now than to stay with Allinde," I said. "But Haldir must know about this immediately. Even now the elves are in council about their future, and we're to meet with them tonight at dinner."
I thought Joel would deliver some jealous remark, but he actually told me he had been close to calling for Lomion when I'd interrupted them. I should advise Haldir of Allinde's condition, he said. He and Roger would take her to Lomion and I could meet them there.
"She needed a little time, Marian," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders.
"She doesn't have very much time," I told him brokenly. "Her only hope is to hold out until Haldir can get her to the ships. In Valinor, she might recover.
"Don't you believe in Valinor?" I asked him when I saw him shake his head.
"Of course I do," he replied defensively. "I'm born and bred Catholic, remember? But I'm not going to wait and pray for ships that might not ever come to heal Allinde. In spite of no hospital, no laboratory, and no decent equipment, I'm going to find a way to help her, here and now."
I nodded, unable to speak further, and went to find Haldir.
I know that Joel will do everything he can for Allinde. I feel guilty for feeling this way and I pray that I'm wrong, but no matter how good a doctor he is – and I know he's very, very good - I just don't think that anything he tries to do will help.
The instant that Marian entered the Council Chambers, I knew something was horribly wrong. The words I had been speaking died on my lips, and I looked from her to Haldir. He could see it too, so withheld much of his anger though he had given the strictest instructions not to be disturbed. Marian ignored us all – Lindir, Vanimé, myself and the others – and walked straight up to my brother, bowing and waiting silently for him to acknowledge the interruption. She did not flinch when finally he granted her a scathing look that had shriveled the confidence of the hardiest elf time and again.
"Speak," he challenged in a milder tone than he might have used, seeing her distress.
For a moment dear Marian's mouth moved, but no words came out. As one, we leaned closer to hear.
"Allinde. . . is ill," she finally managed to say, her emotions barely in check. She had emphasized the word "ill" in such a way that none of us doubted her meaning. Exclamations of denial rose from many. Grief washed over us all. Of course we cared deeply for all of our brethren, but Allinde – the most exuberant one among us, who could make even the most world-weary elf see the wonder of Arda fresh and anew – held a special place in each of our hearts.
I had never seen the light in Marian's eyes so dim. Through each difficult time in her life, my Marian had never wavered in her absolute confidence that things would get better, nor given up striving to make it so. Now I feared that Allinde's sickness, added to Haldir's imminent departure, had finally extinguished the hope that she thrived on. I wanted to rush to Marian and comfort her, but I withheld myself. If I did so, she might break down completely in front of the others. I would have to wait.
"Joel is taking her to Lomion," Marian continued with difficulty. "He wants to try to help her."
"No!" Lindir shouted, rising from his chair. "This mortal must not be allowed to interfere. He has neither the skill nor the understanding!"
"Peace, Lindir," Haldir stayed him with a hand on his shoulder as Marian looked at Lindir in shock. "Such skills as we have were of no value to Callo. We cannot ask a healer not to try to heal. You need not fear the doctor – he will do nothing less Lomion approves."
"My apologies," Lindir said tightly to Marian. She shook her head to dismiss Lindir's outburst, but her face still expressed hurt at the betrayal I knew she felt at Lindir's words.
See to it," Haldir directed Marian by way of dismissal, and turned back to our table.
"My Lord," Marian continued urgently, and Haldir looked back and nodded for her to continue. I sympathized that she didn't want to add weight to my brother's burdens, but there was little to prevent it. "Allinde needs to reach Valinor as soon as possible."
Haldir frowned. "It was right for you to come to us. But I see you greatly desire to go to her. Impart our good wishes to Allinde until we may each speak with her ourselves."
Marian left, and Haldir turned back to us. I expected no great changes to the course we had already agreed on, for the day that we hoped Cirdan would be awaiting us could not be changed no matter how urgent the need. We would need to do whatever we could to make Allinde's travel as comfortable as possible, however. And that meant leaving earlier than we had intended.
March 13
There wasn't enough room the Great Hall for all of us in Methentaurond, so last night Haldir gave word that we would dine on the banks of the Linluin where the grape crush had occurred some months ago. This location and the hearty buffet that Turnaur laid out gave a festive air to the occasion despite the solemn words that would follow.
After the meal Haldir rose and stood with the sparkling Linluin behind him. His proud and commanding posture and his serious expression, quieted us immediately. For a long moment, nothing could be heard but the rushing of the water. Even the birds that had been twittering above the greenhouses fell silent. I will write Haldir's words as best I can remember them:
"None who now remain here have seen the White Shores with our own eyes. None have felt its gleaming sands beneath our feet or its clear light on our faces, though we sing of such things still. These stars and waters, this land has been a sacred gift, rich and beautiful. We have been loath to leave it. But Arda is no longer safe for our kind. It sickens and we sicken with it: Callo and others are dead; Allinde has fallen ill. It is time- past time - to go Home.
Some among us look ahead with joy to Valinor; others feel their roots to Arda too strong and their hearts are heavy. We will all carry Arda in our hearts to the end of days. I will not command this or that fate upon any one of us. Each of you has a choice before you: to go or to stay.
For any who would stay, your fate is before you. You must abandon Methentaurond - soon mortals will know of its existence, and they will come. I fear that in time you too will sicken and die, in the company of others or in solitude. The healing of Arda will not come soon enough for you to escape your fate. You must treasure the time that you are granted, however long that may be.
For those who would follow me to the Sea (and here Rumil, Lindir and Vanimé stepped to Haldir's side), our fate is uncertain, our journey dangerous. The Havens are lost to us. I have chosen a place, relatively unwatched by Men, which we must reach and await the ships unseen. I can find no way to signal our friends that this Yestaré, we will await them on these shores. I may only hope that by some grace of the Valar or by some path that I cannot yet see, Cirdan will know that we wait, and come. If he does not and we are discovered, we will face the whims of Second Children who are no longer elf-friends, who know naught of us but legends and children's tales. Any honor they may yet possess, we cannot chance. If we remain unseen, we will wander the shadows of Arda until we meet with whatever fate awaits us.
I make you no promises. Those who follow me must set out sustained by faith alone. Whether you will turn to the forest or the Sea, all must depart at dusk by the Main Gate in six days time. Each of you has that much time to bid Methentaurond namarie."
I looked around the clearing and saw tears in many eyes besides my own, elven and mortal. I made my way to where Haldir stood, knowing this might be my last chance to tell the Elves what was in my heart.
"Speaking grandmothers sing in our ears: Puxa ikinkdiksh enqiqnan alona daminaoa anxdushima!" Yasmin stepped forward and declared emotionally. Elves and men alike stared at her in amazement. "It's Native American- Paiute," she explained. "It means: 'What we learn from our elders can be carried on.' "
"Well then why didn't you just say so?" I heard Joel say under his breath.
I couldn't look Haldir in the eye or I swear I would have collapsed into tears. I told them with difficulty that Arda would be much emptier when they had gone, but we would carry them always in our hearts. We would keep the legacy of the elves alive. We would teach the world about them, and never let them be forgotten again. I told them I had faith that once we shared Methentaurond with the world, people would understand and we would turn things around.
"Throughout our own brief history," I finally looked up at Haldir and said, "we've honored those who have left the comfort and safety of their homes and set out to achieve great things; people who have overcome seemingly impossible odds and faced mortal danger to succeed. They are our explorers, our inventors, our astronauts, scientists, our poets. But they are also average people who have risen to find courage within themselves that even they didn't know they possessed.
But," I said," we also honor and remember those who took these same risks and did not succeed but inspired us simply because they were willing to try.
We call these people heroes," I told Haldir, whose eyes had deepened to their darkest, deepest blue. "Every elf here is our hero. We have faith that you will reach home, and we will accept nothing less for our heroes and our friends. We offer you whatever help we can give. May the Valar guide you and welcome you home at last."
"Or they'll have me to deal with!" Roger said, shaking his fist at the cavern ceiling and making everyone laugh. I listened to the bright tinkling laughter of the elves, knowing that soon their voices would no longer be heard. I swear I will never forget it, no matter how much time goes by.
The brief laughter died quickly, and the mood became solemn again. I tried to catch Lindir's eye, but he looked away. Since I told him about Allinde, part of Lindir seems already to have left for Valinor. I can't judge him for blaming us for Allinde's sickness, but it makes me sad that I seem to have lost a friend. I admit, it makes me a little angry at him as well. Allinde is my friend too. We're doing everything we can.
Haldir took me aside. "My heart tells me there is still time to reconcile Man with Arda once more. It is not the elves who must be heroes now, Marian. It is you, if you can."
We were interrupted by Dieter steering Mason toward us. "It is our hope," Haldir said imperiously to Mason, "that if you have learned nothing else, you will have seen that there is more to be learned from observing a thing than by destroying a thing to find out how it works."
"There are important things we can't see unless we take things apart; magnify them; experiment with them. We would have never found quarks if we had not split an atom," Mason argued like the stubborn scientist he was.
Haldir replied staunchly, "You mortals have an expression: 'He can't see the forest for the trees.' A student of ecology, I thought, would be concerned with seeing the forest. There is a place for what you speak of, but it is often not the best path to understanding. One day perhaps you will see this, if you will allow it of yourself."
Mason didn't speak but looked defiantly at Haldir like he thought him some sort of dinosaur. After a moment, however, he glanced quickly at Vanimé and then dropped his eyes. "I'll help you get ready to leave, if you'll let me," he said between his teeth, casting me a glare from under his dark eyebrows. "Anything but sitting in that cursed talan doing nothing for another week."
"I don't advise it," Dieter said quickly to me. I knew that having Mason loose in Methentaurond would make Dieter's job much more difficult. Who knew the trouble he might start, or what he might try to get into. I deferred to Haldir – it was really more his decision than mine, as it was the elves' security at stake more than anything else. His answer surprised me.
"I accept your assistance if Hiril Marian assents," Haldir said, "but you will be watched at all times."
Dieter shook his head, but I was already feeling guilty at shutting Mason up for so long, so I agreed that we would try it. Tomorrow at least, along with the rest of our company, Mason would spend part of the day helping the elves prepare to leave. After that, we would see.
"And you need to pack as well," I told him. "You'll be coming with us, part of the way. You'll come blindfolded, and Dieter will lead you back to the highway. Don't worry," I said as Mason prepared to strenuously object, "he'll pay you what I still owe you – we aren't going to leave you helpless. You can take what you've learned here and patent it and make millions of dollars, I don't care – the more knowledge that's shared, the better off we'll all be. But," I added threateningly, "in exchange you will never tell anyone about this place. If you do, I will know it, and I WILL find you."
Dieter excused himself and left with Mason in tow, throwing me a "thanks a lot" glance over his shoulder. I think I may be taking Dieter for granted.
"You do recall that such kindness is exactly how the Greenwood wardens lost Gollum?" Rumil commented, appearing at my side and saying cheekily to his brother.
I turned back to Haldir to find him measuring me with his eyes in that way that always made me feel completely inadequate and instantly aroused at the same time. "I AM going with you," I said defensively.
"Indeed, I insist upon it," he shocked me by saying.
"Close your mouth, Marian," Rumil advised, pressing his finger under my chin.
I closed my mouth, which I had opened to argue with what I thought would be a sure denial. I was too nonplussed to tell Rumil "On your finger," like I wished I had.
"The true measure of a teacher is for the student to be better than the teacher after the teacher has gone," Haldir impressed upon me as he turned smoothly to leave the clearing with Rumil. "Prove us to have taught you well."
Sure. No problem. Piece of cake.
March 14
Four days until the elves leave Methentaurond.
I sat with Allinde most of the day today on the deep couches by the library fire, surrounded by the smell of leather and parchment. Lomion said she might as well spend her time where she loved to be rather than in his healing chambers where, in spite of the sparkling fountain and soothing herbs filling the air, Allinde had proven to be bored and unhappy. "It's lovely, Lomion, but I can't sit here and be useless," she told him apologetically, and he allowed me and Joel to move some of her things into the library and make her comfortable there. Walking between her talan and the library was already beginning to exhaust her. At least here we could retrieve what she needed from the shelves when she asked for them, something that I was still waiting for her to get over being embarrassed at not being able to do herself, and at me 'wasting my time' staying with her. Whenever Joel came to check on her or to offer her some infusion that Lomion and he had agreed on, she was even more embarrassed at his ministrations.
Since he made it clear that my presence was not wanted when he came, I excused myself from the library and attended to other things when Lindir came to visit Allinde. He spoke to me, but only as much as propriety demanded. I waited at a polite distance from the entrance until he had gone. I could think of nothing to do but give him the space he needed.
"Will you join me for the singing, and to Lindir's tales in the Hall tonight, Marian?" Allinde asked me when I returned to her side. "I do not wish to miss spending such a pleasant time with the others." I knew, however, that she had another purpose in mind.
"I don't think that Lindir would appreciate my joining in any more, Allinde. I'm sure Arianna would be happy to stay there with you."
"Nonsense," Allinde said, narrowing her eyes at me. "You mustn't let Lindir's present mood keep you from showing your friendship for him."
"I thought I was being his friend by staying out of his way," I said in confusion. "He doesn't want me around."
She took my hand in hers. "I have known Lindir for two millenia, Marian. We are fast friends - Callo and I, we are – were - almost as close to him as the family he will join across the Sea. He is quite sensitive despite how cool and composed he usually appears, and he is almost beside himself at seeing me. . . like this, when we are so close to going home. He needs you to stand by him whether he thinks he wants it or not."
"Alright, I'll come with you," I surrendered, not wanting to tire Allinde further by arguing with her.
Joel brought Allinde's dinner to the library, as well as another concoction for her to force down. She swallowed it without complaint, winking at me over her glass. I know she thinks she's humoring him, but I'm allowing myself at least a small hope that something will help. She was brought to the glowing entry of the Hall in a palfrey (Lomion insisted on it), but she refused to be carried in on it. Instead she leaned inconspicuously on my arm and indicated where she wanted to sit – in the front of the room, just slightly to Lindir's right side. I could hardly refuse her, now could I?
I recorded Lindir's tale tonight in my journal with the others, as best I can remember. He concluded the tale of the Silmarilli with this: ". . . and the Silmarilli will not be recovered again until the world is remade.". This ending did not agree at all with the jewel that was sitting in the wardrobe in my talan. Encouraged by Allinde's words that I needed to engage Lindir even if he didn't wish it, I spoke to him without him addressing me first for the first time since she had become ill.
"What does it mean," I leaned forward and asked him, "'for the world to be remade?' Isn't the nature of the world one of change – isn't the world being remade a little bit every day? Could this not be what the stories refer to?"
He did not look at me, but he did speak, though in a coldly impersonal tone. "The changes of time in Arda, under the sun, the decay we have seen through the ages that grieves us so; I do not believe that is what the histories mean. We have been taught," he continued, "that it means the end of the world, when the Second Song of Iluvatar shall be sung by the Valar and all of the Children of Iluvatar, after the end of days."
"You mean after the Second Coming, Armageddon? But why shall they not be found until then? Would not the Valar wish them to be found, so that the Light of the Trees would shine in Valinor once more as it always should have?"
"I do not know," he said, regarding me at last with a curious look that made me wonder if I had said something to arouse his suspicion. "Yet, it is told that possession of a Silmaril, or the desire to possess one, has ever caused ruin for the Elves."
He rose to leave, but I dared to ask him one more thing that I found hard to understand about the Elves. "But Lindir, surely all you have seen through the centuries has not been decay; some changes are good, aren't they? Or they are not "good", or "bad," but only what is? Why, some people embrace change for change's sake alone."
"The hearts of Men find no rest in the world, and the world suffers for it," he faced me, his voice becoming louder and more bitter. "The thirst for power; the desire for change – this is not where the hearts of the Elves lie. We wish only to preserve the beauty of the world; to bring it to its highest perfection. Yet our fate has in the end become to teach you, who seem to foil us at every opportunity, like Morgoth foiled the Valar again and again. . . " Lindir started to say more, but his voice caught and he swayed slightly. I reached out to steady him even though I was sure he'd brush me away. Instead, he accepted my hand and sat down again at Allinde's side, seemingly just now aware of the remaining elves in the Hall, who were doing their best not to notice Lindir's outburst.
"Please leave us, Marian," he said not quite as unkindly, removing his hand from mine to rub his face wearily. "I will see Allinde to her rest."
Allinde started to protest, but I waved Lindir's words aside and excused myself, telling them that I would see them both tomorrow. I'm trying not to be upset at Lindir's bitterness. I know it's because he cares for Allinde deeply. But here I am demanding that all of the elves be perfect when even they aren't. I can't guess what's in Lindir's mind and heart. Still, I am hurt.
March 15
Three more days.
My eyes sprang open in the middle of the night last night, gritty from a long and tiring dream where I was searching desperately for something or someone, but now I can't even remember what or who. My waking thought was of what Lindir had said: ". . . possession of a Silmaril, or the desire to possess one, has ever caused ruin for the Elves." I can't give the jewel to Haldir, then, or any other elf! I won't bring further trouble to them than they already have to bear. Again I 'm afraid that I may have no choice but to keep it to myself. Frankly, it's becoming a pain – I'm getting tired of worrying about it all the time.
Three days to go, and I sat down with Corudring on a new bridge we have just completed – an unneeded shortcut that I'm sure he only said he needed for my benefit. What I hadn't noticed that although each bridge here is similar, none are exactly the same. Corudring has molded each to its use, of course, but also to its singular place and the materials that made it, not the other way around. Their utility and beauty awe me anew. They possessed a beauty as alive and growing as the plants and creatures of the forest around us. Finally, through building one with him I now understand the unique and thoughtful creativity behind them. And, I hope, I will be able to do the same for others.
When we were finished we drank a toast of Miruvor, master-builder to architect. I asked him what he was going to do in Valinor. The marble there, he has heard, is of the purest white, finer even than the marble from the mountains of Carrara that he and Michelangelo both favored. We consumed a bottle and a half dreaming of the beautiful halls that he and his studio of apprentices will sculpt with their own hands. I feel privileged to have been one of his students, if only for a very short time. I've learned things from Corudring that I would have thought impossible before. Nothing seems impossible for the elves – perhaps not even reaching home.
March 16
Despite Dieter's reservations, Mason is proving to be as helpful as the rest of our company in assisting the elves. I just make sure that he stays as far away as possible from Joel, and Dieter sees him back to his talan at the end of the day. Actually, accustomed as they are to traveling long distances, the elves don't really need too much help from us. At least we can do a few things, like help pack lembas, dried fruit and other provisions. Turnaur says there are too many of them to find enough food in the Spring forest as they travel, though he has assistants who will do just that, more for variety's sake than anything else. I think there is another reason as well - receiving the bounty of Arda as they go will be another, consoling way to slowly say goodbye.
It's not hard to keep Mason and Joel in different places. Joel is spending his days and, I suspect, most of his nights trying to find a cure for Allinde. Nothing is helping, and Joel's ideas area becoming a little more radical than Lomion, Lindir and I are comfortable with. Allinde isn't a guinea pig, after all, even if she insists that she'll try anything if there's a chance that she can help someone else later, if not herself. Joel's looking thin and pale and driven, and I'm worried about them both.
I told our Fellowship this afternoon that I'm leaving Joel in charge while I go with the elves to the ocean. I didn't know if he would jump at the opportunity to show me up while I was gone, or if he would insist on coming with us. I'm a little surprised at his preference. The others took it in stride (except Mason, who I didn't bother to inform), but Joel protested vehemently. He would not, he said, leave Allinde unattended. I stayed firm - Lomion, after all, was accompanying her. Joel didn't answer me when I told him again that he's staying, which means he's not done fighting with me yet. No matter - he WILL stay here, if for no other reason than his own health.
Haldir is concealing it well, but I can tell he's growing more and more agitated about those in his care. It shows in that one extra pace he takes across his terrace, that slightly sharper turn of his head or barely increased curtness of his speech. Rumil is by his side constantly, and I miss him. On the other hand, at least he's harassing Haldir and not me. Oh that's not fair - he's trying to keep Haldir's spirits up, though he does it almost unnoticeably when others are present. Rumil's putting on a good front, too - I know he's not nearly as cheerful as he's pretending to be. He even passes up easy opportunities to tease me, and that's unheard of.
I don't know how much longer I can stand this. The elves are grieving even as they look forward to crossing the Sea. Laments for Arda, though beautiful, fill the evening air with sadness and loss. Songs foretelling the sight of the Lonely Isle or of Elbereth have a nervous edge to them. I hate watching Haldir go through such increasing inner torment as each day goes by even as I crave his touch more and more desperately.
I'm starting to drink something Lomion gave me just to get any sleep at night at all. I'm no longer dreaming of or with Haldir, I don't know why. This makes me feel lonelier than ever before, lonely even before he leaves. And the jewel in the wardrobe is a constant source of distraction.
There are only two days left. Only two days.
I knew that at some point I would need to tell Marian the thing that Haldir and I have known all along. I had been putting it off because I knew that after I told her it would both comfort here and cause her undeserved guilt and fear; thus I would never hear the end of it.
During those last days before our departure I watched her and Haldir grow more and more unhappy. Both were struggling with the necessity of facing the moment when they would have to tell each other goodbye, and neither was finding the peace to accept it. I tried to comfort each of them; cajole them; goad them. Stubborn and strong-minded as they both were (I could think of other, more colorful terms), they each hid this bitter fruit inside themselves and would let no one come near it, not even me. Yet for each of them it simmered just beneath the surface, ready to explode at any moment.
Finally, on our last day in Methentaurond, events became such that I decided I must tell her.
Marian was never satisfied with any of the sketches she did of Haldir, though I thought the ones that I had been clever enough to observe quite good. She had a distinctly skillful hand but had little appreciation of her own abilities. Sandy would have told her this, but Marian never showed her any of her work. This day, she invited Haldir and myself, Vanimé, Lindir, Orodren, Gladrel and Allinde to sit for photographs. We obliged her. Even Allinde agreed without Marian's explanation that not only did she want a reminder of her friend, but she also hoped that a photo of her would help aid their cause.
We donned our finest garments. Orodren wore his warden's garb, his best longbow and quiver at the ready. Sandy took his photo outside in the forest; Gladrel's she took in the gardens, and Allinde's in the library. She took the rest of our photographs on the steps of the Great Hall while Marian looked on. I wondered if Haldir would take his armor from the wall one last time, but he did not do so. Preferring to be seen by mortals as a Lord, not as a warrior, he allowed me to plait his hair as we so often did for each other since childhood, missing only Orophin to make the scene complete. Vanimé brought out his most exquisite silver-green robes from his wardrobe, and he placed the mithril girdle with its ceremonial dagger still sharp and sound enough for real battle, and the Galadrim neckpiece and circlet about his form.
When Haldir entered to take the position that Sandy asked for, Marian's eyes widened and her body stiffened. Her entire being focused on Haldir completely, as if by doing so she could somehow keep a part of him here with her. Her chest rose and fell with barely contained emotion. Haldir's gaze fixed intently on Marian as Sandy photographed him. I remember wondering what someone looking at his picture in the months and years to come would read in his eyes. I can tell you now that the picture looks uncannily alive. My brother's eyes burn through the canvas as though the most precious thing in his life lay just outside the viewer's sight – as it did. Much later, some who looked at Haldir's picture as they toured Methentaurond commented that it was haunted, that they felt the power of his presence around them as they looked on it. Marian, when she first saw it, said the same thing. She kept a small copy of it with her always, even unto the day she died.
I wished fervently that I could do something for them both to ease their hearts.
We each left for other duties as Sandy finished our pictures. Knowing instinctively to save the best for last, she called me forward. I watched Marian watching me as I arranged myself in what I was sure would be a quite flattering pose. Being more accustomed to photography than the others, I turned my good side to her camera. Not that my other side is lacking in any way. . . and I saw her start to cry. She tried valiantly to hold it in, I could see that. But once that first choking gasp escaped her chest, it broke loose like the torrent of a Spring thunderstorm. Sandy set down her camera and hugged her, then excused herself tactfully, saying she needed a break. Marian and I were alone; she hugged her knees and her keening echoed off the stone walls. I froze in indecision, which is, I assure you, quite unlike me. The only occasions I ever felt completely helpless were when Marian cried. Composing myself, I ran down the steps and offered her my arms. Rather than slapping me off and telling me to go away, she fell into them sobbing.
She clung to me, allowing me to rock her back and forth as she horribly wrinkled and tear-stained my very best silk tunic. It was of Galadhric design, a shimmering color like rich loamy soil, with silver embroidery, as I recall. Ellith swooned whenever I wore it. I sorely miss that tunic.
Through her sobs she tried to talk to me. Eventually her speech was coherent enough that I could understand parts of what she was saying.
"I can't . . . you . . . Rumil . . . . don't know what . . . without . . . you, jerk . . . best friend . . . " and so on. I just couldn't let it go on.
"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere," I confessed, gritting my teeth and waiting for the inevitable.
" . . . miss fighting with . . . can't stand . . . to go," she continued in misery.
"Marian! Listen to me. I will not take the ships."
Marian pushed away from me, her tears instantly stopping.
"WHAT?" she said in horror.
"I am staying here in Arda, with you," I repeated patiently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her tear-streaked face.
"You can't stay here," she said slowly and vehemently like I had lost my mind. "Are you crazy? Have you seen Allinde lately? You HAVE to leave, as quickly as possible. You stood with Haldir when he said he was leaving. You stood with Vanimé and Lindir. You ARE going with them!"
"Marian," I said softly. "I am only accompanying them to the sea, as you are. I will return here, with you."
"Why?" she panicked. "Is it because of what I just said, because I cried? Do you really think that I want you to stay here and – and die?" Then she narrowed her eyes at me. "Does Haldir know what you're thinking of doing? You come with me right now and let him tell you how crazy you are. March, mister."
If I had been a child, she would have dragged me to him by the ears. But she didn't hear what she wanted to from him either.
"Did you heed my words or no?" he asked her, straightening up from the maps he was pouring over in his study. "I will not command any to either go or stay. It is Rumil's wish to stay with you. I give him my blessing to do so."
"You're not even surprised to hear this," Marian accused him. "You knew all about this. My God, how can you leave your own brother!"
A look of profound hurt crossed Haldir's brow for an instant. He returned to his maps without answering her.
"It's because you still don't believe in me, do you? You're leaving Rumil here because you don't think I can handle it. Well I CAN." She crossed her arms and put on a completely unconvincing air of denial. "I don't need you," she told me with a deep frown, and I saw clearly that it was hurting her to lie to me. "I can do perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much.
I won't let him stay," she insisted to Haldir when I didn't answer. "I won't be the reason he might get sick like Allinde. Haldir! Look at me, damn it!" she pounded on his desk in rage. "You can't make him stay!"
He looked at her then, and it was not a look I would have wanted to receive.
"You are not listening," Haldir said angrily. "No matter how my heart compels me to do so, no matter how my mind screams to have him by my side, I will not force him to take the ships with me! Rumil wishes to stay and help you. I honor his decision freely," he said, grasping Marian's hand by our grandmother's ring, "So must you."
With an expression of guilt and hardened determination, as though she was doing something almost sacrilegious, Marian reached for the ring to remove it from her finger. "I will break a promise if I have to, Rumil, to save your life - even if you hate me for it forever." The ring wouldn't budge. She tried again, and still the ring would not come off her finger. She looked at us helplessly.
I took her hand and closed her fingers. I knew what it meant for Marian to risk my friendship. I was profoundly touched.
"I am not saying goodbye to my brothers forever, dear one, but only delaying our reunion.
I can walk among mortals as I so often have," I told her, as I knew this was another of her fears. "Would you have me miss the great changes that we will begin together? Would you have me miss the healing of Arda, or shall we watch it together, side by side?"
"Rumil will not become ill," Haldir assured her less angrily. "Our Lady's mirror foretold that he will dwell with you for many years. Be comforted by this, and know that it is not only your need that keeps him here but his own needs, and the needs of us all."
"Fifty years - you plan to stay until I die. Please don't wait that long! Please promise me you'll go home soon," she begged me.
"Soon," I promised her. Of course, soon is relative, is it not?
March 17
Our last day in Methentaurond together, and I just had to spend half of it fighting with Rumil and Haldir, the two people I love most in the world. I am so afraid for them both, afraid for Allinde and all the other elves. I came back to my talan after failing to convince Haldir that Rumil can't possibly stay with me. I was still so angry at him! And, I was so desperate to hold him in my arms and tell him I love him, over and over and over. I cleaned, I packed, I wore a dent in the floor pacing back and forth. Should I or shouldn't I go to him? I couldn't sleep. The night darkened. The time was passing too quickly. Minute by minute flew by, crawled by. I wouldn't let myself sleep. I was afraid that if I did, I'd oversleep and Haldir would leave without me. I craved him. I wanted to go to him, throw myself at him, beg him to let me touch him. But what if he rejected me, here at the end? Or what if he relented and made love to me, would he lose his immortality? I could hardly keep myself from running to him, for I'll never be with him again, here in Methentaurond. He will be too taxed on the journey, I know, to have time for me, and then I'll never, never see him again.
It was very late, I think, when I heard a voice at my door. It was Rumil, who of course opened the door before I could answer it. I told him my fears – well, some of them. I tried to talk him out of staying, but I knew his mind was made up. He reassured me that he would wake me in time for both of us to escort Haldir and the others out of the caverns. When I asked him why he was up so late, he handed me a basket, and gave me a much-needed hug.
"Rumil," I said in confusion as I raised an airy cloud of thin white fabric from the basket, "I don't understand."
"Do what your heart tells you tonight, Marian. Your heart cannot be wrong."
"But Rumil, I can't ask him to. . . to. . ."
"My brother is stronger than you know, Marian, too strong for his own good. He will not allow this to endanger him. I know him better than anyone, as I know you. He grieves and worries tonight, for many things –"
-Yes, I thought, especially for having to leave Methentaurond in my hands-
". . . not the least of which is his grief in leaving you."
"Rumil, that can't be," I argued, even as my heart clung to his words like a drowning person clinging to a piece of flotsam in an endless sea, and handed the basket and its contents back to him. "He told me once that he cares for me, but he's never truly wanted me here, he doesn't trust me still. I will never be good enough, or strong enough, or. . ."
"Haldir's error is perhaps too much a desire to mold you in his own image instead of in your own, and a warrior captain you are not. But he believes in you, Marian, in spite of himself. Do not mistake his grief over Arda and his opinions of the weaknesses of Men for displeasure with you.
I have tried to talk to him, Marian, but you are the only one who can comfort him in this, and he you. I ask you as Haldir's brother and as your friend: tonight, this final night before we depart, do not let him grieve alone."
Rumil set the basket down on my table. He was more upset, more un-Rumil-like, than I had ever seen him.
"Rumil, the last time you gave me wardrobe advice was a disaster. Does this belong to your mother, old girlfriend, or anyone else I should be worried about?"
A look of profound gratitude and relief spread over Rumil's face. "Not so fast," I said quickly, "I haven't agreed to anything."
"Haldir has never seen it before, I swear it. You know you will regret it if you don't try," he said with an x-rated look on his face and a very Haldir-ish raise of an eyebrow.
"By the way, Rumil, where did YOU get this?"
"I never reveal my sources," he said, flipped his lovely hair, and left. Now that was more like the Rumil I knew and loved to despise.
I looked at the basket on the table, walked away, walked back and looked at the basket. It's a negligee, Marian, not a snake, I told myself.
But he would without a doubt reject me; it would be no different than before. Why subject myself to the inevitable humiliation? I walked away across the room and stopped in the bedroom doorway.
And what would it do to him and to me if he did not reject me? Could I bear to let him go? I was on the verge of begging him to stay as it was, and this I couldn't do.
Was Rumil wrong? Would it risk his immortality, one night of pleasure? It was perfectly clear that he couldn't love me even though he'd told me he wanted to - I wouldn't wish such a hardship on him. There was no higher purpose, no destiny planned by the Valar. No, it was better if I stayed away. It was better.
And yet, I thought, and walked slowly back to the table once more, I loved him so much it was tearing me apart. Self-destructive as I knew it was, my heart, my soul, my whole body longed, ached for his arms around me just once, before he was lost to me forever. It would be something more than a dream to cling to, once he was gone. And if I could give him the same, if I could comfort him just a little, where would be the harm? What had I given him, after all, for all that he had taught me, for everything he had gifted me with?
And Rumil had said to follow my heart.
And my heart was breaking, caging myself in this room when he was so near. And I was so alone, already, without him.
I lifted the garment out of the basket. It was simple, light, long, and hovered on the verge of being sheer. I could at least try it on. I removed my T-shirt and slipped it over my head. A faint wavy pattern like thick stripes, first somewhat opaque and then somewhat sheer in all the right places, teasing yet not teasing, revealing but not revealing, cascaded diagonally across the simple sleeveless sheath that had but one shoulder strap and draped seductively low under the other arm. It was a supremely suggestive, yet tasteful work of art. It was divine. It put such thoughts into my head, it made my body throb and my heart race just to imagine him looking at me in it with those eyes of his, eyes that no one else could ever have, eyes that soon would be only a memory.
But I couldn't walk around outside in this, reveal my intentions to anyone who might see me. Then I saw that there was another garment in the basket, and I lifted it out as well. It was a long, gray cape. I smiled. Rumil, who was always prepared for love. Rumil, who thought of everything, and might be without his brother for a long time.
I threw the cape on. I pushed open the door to the twinkling night, and I threw caution to the wind.
And I ran right into Rumil.
"WHAT are you still doing here?"
"I will walk with you, to protect your honor."
"You'll walk with me to make sure I don't chicken out," I grumbled as we walked through the misty night.
We reached Haldir's door, and I froze. Rumil reached past me and brazenly pushed it open.
"Don't you ever knock?"
"He is not within. My brother the perfectionist is checking the final preparations, but he should return presently. See, his bow, his sword and his pack are still here."
I looked down beside the door to see his things, neat and spare and tightly packed, as the field gear of a seasoned warrior would be. This physical evidence that he really was leaving, they all were, hit me like a knife in the stomach.
"Rumil, how can you bear it, you should go with him."
"You both need me to stay," he said simply.
"I love you, Rumil."
"And I love you, my sweet. Until the morning then," he said, kissed me on the brow, and shut the door.
I hesitated on the threshold, feeling like an intruder, and looked around the deserted room. It still held his furniture, his tapestries, and his harp. Only a few small, precious, easily carried things besides his weapons had been removed. He was taking so little!
I opened the door again, quickly in case I could catch him in the nose, but it looked like Rumil was not hovering just outside after all.
I looked through the arch draped with crimson curtains that led to Haldir's private chamber. I had never been past that doorway before, but I was going to go there now, uninvited and unexpected. Would he think me cheap? Presumptuous? He would doubtless think me desperate, for that was what I was: Desperate for one touch of acceptance, one word of reassurance; and desperate for him to be at peace.
I crossed the room and entered his bedchamber, closing the curtains behind me.
It was a simple, large and airy room of whites and golds and blues that I had never noticed opening onto the terrace. I lit the wicks of the single, large white candle on the side table and closed the curtains to the terrace, cutting off the light from the lanterns outside. Then I sat uncomfortably on the bed despite the deep cloud of silken white buoyed me - I smiled. Haldir might be arrogant and demanding and used to sleeping night after night on the hard ground, but he obviously appreciated comfort as well. I touched my hand to the soft pillow where he would rest his head. I took the pillow in my arms and pressed it to my face, breathing in. It retained his scent, faintly. It would not be long, I thought sorrowfully, before it would fade away forever.
And so I sat nervously, cradling Haldir's pillow and wondering if I were doing the right thing; wishing as I had so many times before that I could be as sure of my decisions as he always was of his own, and waited.
From the poem "A Letter for Marian" by Thomas McGrath
From "The Silmarillion," by J.R.R. Tolkien