Title: The Tale of Marian
Chapter: 37?
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: Angst - lots of it.
Author's Notes: This is a work in progress.
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.
THE TALE OF MARIAN
Chapter 37 – There Are Gold Heelprints on the Fading Staircases of the Stars 1
i
March 28
What is it that twines one person's soul with another's so completely that, like a long cord of macramé, it can only be unknotted one painful twist or rough pull at a time? After, when laid side by side, each strand is curled and reshaped by the other so that from that time forward each cord retains this shape, far different from that which it was before it was part of such an intricate, miraculous pattern?
I lay restless and wakeful in Haldir's arms as yesterday waxed beneath the trees and we waited for dusk to fall. I held his hands tightly in my own, held them around me and against my chest as he lay close against my back, curled around me. I would not let go against the pressure that was insistent upon unraveling my very core; against the fate that will soon pull him apart from me. Yet, I want him safe and away with Allinde and the others, where they can dwell in health and peace as they were meant to. I'm at war within myself. The cords strain, and fray. I must hold on.
I watched the low bank of fog sit in a thick band along the horizon all day, then move inland in the late afternoon, even across the highway and up the slope to waft among the trees. I expected it to be cold, but instead it blanketed the grassy slopes and held the spring afternoon's brief warmth against the earth. Haldir mustered the scouts early, and we started down the slope well before dusk, protected from view by the low-lying fog. The elves slipped silently through the waist-high grass in small groups, advancing slowly toward the highway below. The muffled booming of the unseen surf guided us. The sound and dull headlight-glow of the occasional car on the highway kept us wary.
House-sized and weather-worn outcroppings of rock loomed now and then before us and we skirted around them, pausing at each for additional cover as another small group advanced to the next outcropping. We watched, just able to mark their positions in the white mists around us.
I reached out to steady myself against the rough, gray-white rocks, my hand contacting polished-smooth, blackened patches on the outermost boulders. Haldir stopped by my side at one such spot as I ran my hand across the curious markings. His mouth quirked knowingly.
"Oliphants," he told me in a low voice that did not carry in the moist air, but was warm and melodic near my ear. Another cord in my heart strained and pulled. "There was more rock, less earth here long ago. Taller than half a dozen elves, the mighty ones scratched their shoulders against these rocks here. . . and here."
"Mastadons?" I wondered.
Haldir nodded. "They made their way here from the South, long ago. Aforetimes they were only creatures of rumor overheard in tales among the campfires of Men who moved West before them. They were a wonder to us, when first we beheld them."
"You saw the elephant," I whispered to him as Lindir came to our side, and I grasped at a memory that buoyed my desperate hope for them. "When easterners came west to search for gold, they said they were "going to see the elephant," I told them both. "They meant that the road might be fraught with struggle and misfortune, but that amazing sights and fantastic adventures waited for them in California; experiences that could happen nowhere else in the world."
"Like the ships of Aman," Lindir nodded. He smiled at me for the first time in weeks. I felt that he might finally have forgiven me for Allinde's condition.
"Come," Haldir urged us forward. "Our true hope lies ahead, from the Sea. When we approach the road we must be wary, and quick."
The gray afternoon light dimmed as we descended further into the fog and neared the highway. We did not cross one at a time, or in small groups. Instead, Haldir spaced us out all along the verge near the road, our crouched forms hidden among the rocks, the tall grass and a few scattered trees. Then, when the faintest purr of a car engine could no longer be heard even by elvish ears, Haldir signaled us to cross the road together. Only when all had again disappeared beneath their cloaks in the misty afternoon gloom on the other side did Haldir leave the edge of the road to join us. If anyone had been looking and had been keen-eyed enough to see movement, the elves might have seemed to their eyes to be the faint shadow that might or might not have been there for a moment, out of the corner of their eye.
If it had been a clear afternoon, the grassy bluffs below us would have been difficult to cross without being exposed. Drivers along the coast highway were always drawn to the view of the ocean, even at night. But in the obscuring fog the road had been the last treacherous boundary between us and the sea. The waist-high grasses made shhhhhhh. . . sounds in the gentle wind; the surf pounded beyond on the rocky shore. Gray-green bushes mounded hip-high among the grass, their twigs grown hard and stiff in the battering winds off the sea. Shore finches rustled and twittered within them as we approached. The shrubs looked not so very different from an elf hunched motionless and silent beneath a gray-green cloak.
"We make for that group of cypresses nearest the bluff's edge," Haldir directed, and I could just make out large, darker forms not far ahead to the south.
The fog began to thin. The cypresses loomed closer, gray-green shadows leaning toward land, buffeted into their brittle shape by the winds that creaked in their branches and sent twigs and juniper-like needles to litter the ground around them. Taking Haldir's lead, we stooped to pass under the outermost tree's branches to discover a small sandy hollow nestled inside, and an elf in gray-green garb waiting to greet us.
"All is prepared as you have ordered, my Lord," the elleth said quietly, and motioned us inside. Allinde's palfrey was brought in under the trees, her attendants stooping low to clear the branches. As we entered, the space beneath the canopy of trees seemed to expand so that in some places we could stand upright. The roar of the crashing surf, although the sea was only yards away over the bluff edge, was muted by the thick growth. The wind had strengthened and was now blustering in the branches above, but the air was only softly moving below. The elleth pointed us each to soft patches of earth among the trunks where she had spread fragrant ferns and grasses to rest on. There, where prying eyes could not observe our presence, we settled and waited for night to fall.
But Haldir was more interested in taking Vanimé, Lindir, Rumil and me to examine what lay beyond the trees.
The fog had continued to thin. We could see here and there the faint western sun slanting horizontally through the branches On the promontory just outside the cypresses a high rock outcropping rose, crowned by an odd, towering concrete statue in the shape of a missile, at least nine times as tall as a man. Staying low to keep ourselves from forming moving silhouettes above the outcropping, we climbed around it to look at the side facing the ocean. A tile mosaic of a white-robed person with palms out was set into the surface. Universal and almost alien in its features, the face was neither male nor female and of no particular race, its expression serene but powerful. Its large eyes looked to the west. At the very crown, above the face, was a large orange-tiled hand, its fingers and thumb straight and placed together, pointing toward the heavens. As I looked at the hand, a bright ray of the setting sun fell onto it through the misty air. Its palm glowed so brightly in this shaft of light that I had to shield my eyes. Then the light dimmed again along the horizon, and I lowered my hand to see that whatever artist had shaped this peaceful but profound sentinel in this lonely place had set tiles of shimmering gold leaf in the concave palm of the crowning hand. The statue was a clear landmark but it looked like it had been created no earlier than the '60's. The elven shipwright wouldn't know about it: Haldir had probably meant to tell him to look for it, but hadn't been able to. Bemused at the statue but on a more pressing errand, we climbed down the rocks to the bluff edge to overlook the cove below.
At a somewhat stable point along the bluff's crumbling and treacherous edge, Haldir led us down a faint steep curving trail leading to but a small ribbon of sand at its southern base. Here a few of the cypresses leaned over and shed their wind-blown needles onto the sand and rocks below. From the eastern and northern sweep of the cove's edge protruded a flat shelf of glistening-black wet rock, its face battered again and again by the high tide that sent salt water sprays high into the air, coating our cloaks with tiny droplets. I couldn't tell how deep the water was, or how close the ships might come into the cove – if they were to come at all. Yes, I had grown up on the coast, but my father had been a lumberman, not a fisherman. Yet to my amateur eye, perhaps at the early hours of a receding tide, this cove looked surprisingly promising. More importantly, I was sure that Haldir had chosen it with the utmost care and purpose. And the cove was veritably invisible from the bluffs and the highway above.
"Shall we await the ships here in the cove?" Vanimé asked Haldir, eyeing the crashing surf uncertainly.
"There is but one way out, along this path," he warned. "It could too easily become a trap. No, we must await Cirdan in the shelter of the trees above, and be at the ready. When the gray ships come, we must make the utmost haste."
"Rumil," he continued, "you will take the first watch with me."
My stomach sank that in the passing hours ahead I wouldn't have any time with Haldir at all. I was already grieving that any opportunity for us to be together in private again might already have passed, and I would have to tell him goodbye without making love to him one last time. This wasn't a time for love, I reminded myself, it was a time for caution, and watchfulness. He seemed to read my thoughts, but made no move to comfort me as he and Rumil left for whatever posts they had chosen. He only nodded at me the slightest bit, his look demanding that I understand his duties. I tried not to feel abandoned, and nodded back.
Drawing my cloak tightly about me in the rising wind, I followed Vanimé back up to the copse of cypresses. Dusk had fallen, but it was even darker within. Vanimé led me to the bower where Allinde's palfrey lay. I sat down next to her. Too weak and lethargic now to take my hand, I sensed her trying to reach toward me over her blanket. I felt for, and gently squeezed her thin hand.
"You are afraid," she said faintly and matter-of-factly.
Oh yes, I was afraid: Afraid that the elves would leave, and afraid they wouldn't be able to leave; afraid that Allinde would fade before the ships could save her; afraid even the ships couldn't save her, even if – when – they came. Afraid that Rumil would become ill if he stayed. Afraid we would be discovered and tragedy would come to them, in this world where there was always much tragedy, yet so much goodness and beauty. Afraid that I wouldn't be able to protect Methentaurond after the elves were gone. What wasn't I afraid of?
"Do not now give in to your fears," Allinde counseled in the cool dark. 'The Valar reward those whose faith does not falter."
"I don't know them as you do," I told her, ashamed of my sudden doubts.
"Yet you have deep faith in the One, this I know. Do not waver in this late hour, when what you wish, and what you know must be, war with each other inside of your heart." She paused from the tiresome efforts to speak.
"You need to save your strength," I urged her. "I'll be alright, I promise. And so will you."
I felt that she smiled in the dark. "What will be, is meant to be," she whispered, and then she slept.
"You are kind to her," I heard Lindir say near me as I stood.
"She's my friend," I said carefully, unsure what to say next.
"As I am yours," he replied in tone that slightly chastised himself. Then he led me by the hand to a soft place under the branches that he told me Haldir had ordered to be prepared for us to rest. I could see Lindir faintly by a faint glow through the branches. The moon must be rising somewhere in the sky. He sat down next to me. "We have become somewhat bitter of late, I admit. We regret that Men think much of themselves, but little of Arda itself. But the darkness will not prevail against the Second Children, Marian, not while hope remains," he said. "Morgoth may cloud Men's judgment and turn many to evil, but you have seen clearly the truths that we have sought to teach you – as clearly as any mortal can in this age. You will remind your kin of the love they have for Arda and all that is in it, for you love it maybe even as deeply as we do. No, Iluvatar did not create you, even beyond the will of the Valar, so that you should fail – of this I am sure."
"Perhaps you could share your confidence with Haldir," I suggested, and Lindir laughed softly.
"You are dear to him in ways immeasurable," he leaned back and sighed. "Yet did you expect that such regard would release you from that which he demands of you?"
"Hardly," I admitted.
"You're been a wonderful teacher," I told him. "I'm proud to be your friend. I'll miss you, Lindir, a great deal."
We sat in comfortable silence for a long time. I must have fallen asleep, for I was startled when Lindir roused himself.
"Yestaré2 approaches," he announced fatefully, and I looked at the faint glow of my watch under my cloak. It was almost midnight.
I followed Lindir out from under the cypresses and climbed to where Haldir stood just below the crown of the outcropping from which the useless statue rose. The fog had thickened again as the night grew colder, and it drifted and curled around the rocks, chilling me beneath my cloak. Behind us, the elves began to quietly sing – magical, ethereal song like the wind in the trees.
"The fog is a blessing to hide us from prying eyes, but is a bane to us as well. How will Cirdan see that we await him? And what sign can we give that will not be seen by those from whom we must remain hidden?" Vanimé spoke what all of us feared, and what all of us knew Haldir had no answer for.
"We must wait," Haldir replied steadily, "and keep hope and faith strong within us. I can foresee naught else that we can do, lest some fortuity present itself to us."
"Yestaré has only just begun," Rumil commented, approaching us through the night mists and stopping at Haldir's side. "Fortune and the aiwenor3 have served us well thus far. The eastern watch is now at Gladrel's command," he reported to Haldir. Then he said over his shoulder, "I for one will take some rest beneath the trees." Lindir did not miss Rumil's rather obvious hint, and skipped over the rocks after him until they quickly disappeared in the dark and the fog. I crossed the rocks to Haldir and was greeted with a strong, warm arm around my waist.
"There may be little time for us to speak henceforth, so let us do so now," he began, his eyes still searching the west from beneath the hood of his cloak.
"Let me come with you," I couldn't keep myself from begging.
"We have already spoken of those things that must now come to pass, you and I. You cannot sail to the Undying Lands. This cannot be undone by man or elf or Vala, no matter how great the need. If my heart ruled, I would take you and flee far away, like Luthien and Beren, forsaking your kin and my own. But I cannot. You cannot.
"Love and loyalty to my oath and my kin hold my course. Do not wish ill of me for the path that I must take, which is not yet fulfilled, for I take it with regret so deep as to be unnamable.
"You are the hope of your people, no less than your forefather Aragorn was the hope of the Men of an earlier Age. Do not allow what is fair to grow unseen and unheeded from too much familiarity. It is your task, to heal the marring of Arda as you may. If you should fail, all the valor and love of the elves will have been in vain."
Then he drew me close and whispered regretfully, "Elizabeth. For many nights now I have not dreamed of you. I know not why. It saddens me deeply. Perhaps, though Ekkaia4 itself will stand forever between us, we may yet find each other in slumber ever and anon, and walk the flowered meadows of Dol Amroth, or ascend the mallorn of Methentaurond together."
"I haven't dreamed of you lately either," I confessed, "and it scares me. If I can't be with you here, or in Valinor, at least let me dream of you! "
"Know this, melamin:5 From this day, though I sail the Straight Road and walk with you no more, I shall take no other to my side."
"No!" Although I thrilled to hear him so devoted, I dreaded the meaning of what he was saying. I knew if he made a promise, he would keep it no matter how miserable it would make him. "You have thousands, tens of thousands of years before you. You can't make such a promise! I won't have you be alone forever – I want you to find someone, and be happy! I could never love anyone else after you, Haldir, but it's different for me – I'm not going to live forever. Soon you'd have made a promise to a dead person, don't you understand that? It would be such a waste. I could die tomorrow, but you. . . "
". . . have found my Lady. It is you, and always will be. It is you who must not make such a vow to me. You will have need of someone, and the hearts of Men - "
"My heart is just as strong as yours is, and as true!" I argued. Haldir, please don't promise me this. It's not fair to you. I – "
"Your flame does indeed burn as brightly as the rising sun, amrun nin,6 but I will not hold you to such a vow. As for my part, it is done, and I regret it not, nor will I ever." Then he stood, and refused to talk about it any further, except to say, "Perhaps at the end of days when it is foretold that Arda will be remade, we may meet again, you and I."
Dawn has come, and the fog remains. No sign of elvish ships has been seen even by keen elvish eyes, only a scattering of fishing boats making their way out to sea. I, on the other hand, can barely see the water past the outer rocks of the cove. The sea is calm; the tide is low – too low, I believe, for a ship to enter the cove. I wonder how deep the draft of an elvish sailing ship might be. I wonder many things. The waiting is so hard. Haldir stands as he has since last evening, a lone sentinel below the statue, a tall, proud figure facing into the west like the prow of a ship. The ocean winds that lean the cypresses toward the land will never bend him back away from the west.
/i
Thus we waited, hoping to be discovered by some but not by others. Naturally, we had prepared for a means of escape should we be discovered by those from which we must remain hidden, yet we knew that our chances would not be good.
I took the time that we were given in waiting to bid my brother farewell, and all the rest of my kin. There was food and drink enough for all, enough even to keep us a few days more if by some chance (the greater chance, if truth be told) that Cirdan did not come. The elleth we met at the cypresses had seen to that. I thanked her in as many ways as she would allow, which were not nearly as many as I wished.
The morning gave way to afternoon, the wind rose and the fog wafted across the bluffs with it, leaving only a thin haze. There was no sign of Cirdan. Should we light a bonfire on the beach? – it would smoke and draw rangers intent on issuing tickets. Should we send some kind of electronic signal? – it was unlikely the Eldar could receive messages in such a form. No, we had gone over such options long before we planned to come here. None were the answer that the palantir had been. Now even that way was closed to us.
We worried for Cirdan. Could the evil of the palantir have traveled even with him to Valinor, hidden within the Orthanc Stone? As far as Haldir knew, Aragorn and his sons did not use them, only kept them safe and hidden. Perhaps only the Anor Stone had come to hold evil in later times, slowly, and without our awareness.
Late afternoon arrived, the beach warmed a little as the fog receded and the sun grew stronger. We were exposed on the bluffs, unable to board the ships unnoticed even if they should come. Even Haldir was forced to retreat into the trees again. We had become nervous, and hope was fading – I could feel it.
"I'm sorry," Marian told Haldir, "I'm the one that asked you to trust to faith, and now. . . "
"The fault is not yours," Haldir said, still stoic and firm in spite of the manner in which our fortunes had seemed to turn. "I would have brought us here in any case. It is our only chance, and so had to be taken nevertheless. We will not surrender to despair – Yestaré has not yet forsaken us."
The afternoon passed slowly. The tide came in, thunderous and wild, and with it the fog and the cool sea-air of the spring evening came inland once more. Even the gulls and pelicans deserted us. Haldir returned to the bluff edge above the hidden cove, eyes piercing the growing mist as if commanding Cirdan to appear by the strength of his will alone. Marian, Vanimé and I joined him, our cloaks heavy and damp with sea spray. We stood silently, and watched the Sea.
"Yestaré wanes," Vanimé lamented after a time. "Darkness approaches."
The fog thickened so that one might think that all of Arda conspired against us. The tide began to recede.
"If Cirdan has not yet seen us, there is little chance that he will now in this foul air. The tide will be at its lowest long before midnight, preventing the ships from coming into the cove between the protection of these bluffs," Vanimé cried out in frustration.
"Indeed, if he is to come," Haldir reluctantly agreed, "he must come now!"
Yet we stood there still, refusing to give in to our growing despair, Marian ever at Haldir's side. The sun was not far from setting, I knew, though the fog became so thick that we could hardly see our hands in front of our faces. In fact Marian lifted her hand up in front of her to test the effect, and a most unusual thing happened. Through the thick fog, the stones in her ring glittered. In disbelief, Marian looked closer, bringing the ring toward her face. The stones glittered again, as elvish rings are wont to do when they are trying to tell you something.
Whatever the ring's message, Marian understood it. She seemed to come to some unwelcome decision, hesitating only a moment before stepping away from Haldir to grab my arm.
"You have to help me find my pack. Come on, I can't see where I left it in this fog."
"Marian," I protested, loath to leave my brother's side, "I don't think now is the time…"
"Now, now, right now!" she babbled hysterically, dragging me down over the rocks.
I led her back down into the trees, or rather I turned her in the right direction and caught her again and again as she pulled me along, tripping on rocks in the dim evening and swearing horribly. Fumbling frantically and throwing the contents of her pack aside, she pulled out a carved box from the very bottom. We stumbled back up over the rocks to where Haldir and Vanimé stood, sentinels in the mists. She dragged Lindir back with us as well. If I had stopped to examine Marian's things I might have found her journal then and there, but what she was carrying back toward Haldir appeared to be much more interesting.
Marian held out the box to Haldir with shaking hands. "Here, take it, take it before I change my mind!" she cried and thrust it into Haldir's hand.
"What is this?" Haldir asked wearily, turning the box in his hand.
"Please forgive me, I don't know if I'm doing the right or the wrong thing." She took a deep breath and plunged on. "Remember how you told me I would open Pandora's Box if given it, and I asked you if you would not do so also? Well, this is Pandora's box," she said, and even in the fog I could sense fearfulness in her words. "If you open it, it may bring more than those who you wish for, but I believe now that this is what I was meant to do with it."
Haldir slowly turned the box around, and lifted the catch. A brilliant and wondrous light, silver-gold and more pure than the light of Anor and Ithil combined, exploded out of the wooden box and lit Haldir's eyes like a consuming fire beneath his hood, washing the bluffs around us in a mighty glow. Quickly, Haldir closed the box as we stared at Marian and him in wonder.
"A Silmaril?" Haldir whispered to her, awe-struck.
"Can it be. . . " we rushed to Haldir's side and exclaimed. "Where did you. . . ?"
"Bruno found it," Marian explained guiltily. "On the trail, during the earthquake."
We stood dumbstruck. With dawning realization, Haldir called me to his side and with me ran to the base of the statue. Purposefully he tucked the box into his belt, grabbed a rope from his belt and threw it up and around the statue. Hope and fear surged within me together as I began to understand what he intended. But would he be in time? I took the end and secured it to the statue's base, holding it taunt. Scaling the statue easily, Haldir disappeared into the whiteness above. The others gathered around me and we waited silent and tense for a long moment.
Suddenly, the light of the Silmaril broke forth from above, shooting a bright stream of light into the west, piercing through the fog to light the very horizon where sky and sea mingled, just as the setting sun dipped out of sight. Haldir had removed the jewel of Feanor and reached with it to the heavens, holding it before the golden palm of the statue's hand. Then just as suddenly the light went out. Minutes passed – nothing. Haldir had returned the Silmaril to its hiding place. We all understood his actions – such a light would have already drawn instant attention from near and far. It was an extremely dangerous thing, and the only thing, to do. All at once the light burst forth from the hand again; and then fog, and darkness. We waited. Again – nothing.
Then Haldir tried a third time. We knew it would be the last. If the ships did not come now, we would all have to flee. The Silmaril cleared a wide path in the fog to reveal a darkening sky, and a sparkling constellation hovering above the horizon. "It is Soronúmë!" Vanimé cried.
"The Eagle of Manwë!" I exclaimed to Marian, not believing my own eyes. "Not since the Third Age has this constellation graced the menel7 above Arda. It is a sign from the Valar!"
As we gazed longer, the fainter stars of Soronúmë faded away, belying that the constellation had never been there.
"Glín!8" Lindir pointed as Haldir continued to hold the Silmaril against the golden hand. "The bright stars on the left and above - they grow brighter still!" Indeed, as we stood forward to see better, the stars grew in size and brilliance, seeming to float toward us just above the Sea itself. Then, they WERE floating upon the Sea, and their yellow beams of light separated, becoming to our eyes as golden sails above two deep gray shadows on the gray waters.
"Rumil, what are they?" Marian asked me, straining to see what we elves could now see and yet hardly accept. The golden sails drew closer. The clear, clean peal of a trumpet pierced the surrounding fog.
"It is Cirdan! It must be!" came the cries of others who had emerged from the trees behind us. Lindir quickly drew a horn from his side, a horn that had not been sounded in an Age, and returned the call.
"Make for the cove!" Haldir shouted. "Go with care, but quickly!" We climbed down to the rocky ledge of the cove, the receding tide calming with the approach of the ships. Haldir held the jewel firmly aloft as they entered the cove and made anchor, sails billowing and lanterns aglow. A boat was let down and approached the rocks, and the light of the jewel was extinguished. I prayed for Haldir to make his way to Marian and me quickly, for we had refused to leave the base of the statue while he remained. We hurried down the slippery trail to the cove. As we reached the sand, a tall and utterly imposing elf stepped out of the boat onto the rock shelf and approached us. Surely this was one of the Eldar that first held his hand to his heart and extended it to Haldir in greeting. Haldir returned his gesture, and grinned at him in relief. "Mae govannon adna Ambar , beleg Cirdan,9 he said in reverence.
Marian stared at the elf in shock. Tall, broadly sinewed and bearded, with long wavy silver hair and heavy strings of pearls about his neck, he stood before her, a most unusual and magnificent elf, and smiled.
"Poseidon," Marian gasped once she regained her voice.
"That name is reserved for Ulmo, Lord of Waters," he chuckled kindly in greeting. "I am Cirdan, shipwright of Aman." Cirdan glanced with interest from Marian to Haldir, whose arm was tightly around her waist. His piercing blue eyes comprehended much from what he saw.
Suddenly an unwelcome scream crossed the heavens - a jet engine unseen above the fog. Marian grabbed my hand urgently.
"Our presence here is a secret no longer," Haldir told Cirdan. "We must make haste!"
"My ships are at your service," Cirdan announced and signaled toward the longboats that had been secured at the rock's edge by his crew on the now still waters of the Pacific, "at long last, my friend, we welcome you home."
With Cirdan's most efficient crew, Marian, Haldir and I assisted our kin in boarding the boats. After a few tense minutes which no doubt seemed longer than the time that had actually passed, only we and Cirdan remained on the shore. Cirdan stood calmly by with the last of the boats, unfazed by a second roar of jet engines that passed low above the cove.
"We shall meet again soon, do not doubt," I told Haldir and embraced him warmly. Then he turned to Marian.
"The promise you made to us and to Arda now lies within your heart," he held her by the arms and told her. "If you. . . " and his voice broke.
My Marian tried to be brave, but her shoulders shook and tears rolled from her eyes. "I won't fail you," she said in a voice of determination mixed with grief. "I'll never forget you," she managed to add, and flung herself into his arms.
"Nor I, you, amrun nin," her replied when with difficulty they broke their embrace, and he kissed her on the forehead, in tears. "Namarie."10
"Take care of her, Rumil," he charged me, and turned away to step into Cirdan's boat.
"I love you," Marian whispered, then put her hands over her mouth when he stopped in mid-stride, his shoulders stiffening with anguish. Marian never could learn how to whisper low enough for an elf not to hear. Then he straightened his back and stepped into the boat with Cirdan. I knew that not turning back to Marian was the hardest thing that Haldir had ever done.
Cirdan turned and looked at me - this was my last chance to go with all of my kin.
"Rumil, go with them!" Marian cried to me and tried to push me forward. "You're not safe here! Go!"
I shook my head no. With a wave of his hand Cirdan cast off, and the boat sped toward the ship.
I held Marian back with difficulty. If I had not, she would have dived into the Sea after Haldir, so distraught was she.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we must flee now!" But Marian would not turn away. She was now oblivious to our peril.
"Marian!" I shook her as Cirdan's ships turned and disappeared into the fog. A searchlight appeared from the Sea, casting along the face of the bluffs at the breakwater outside the cove. We could now hear the hidden boat's engines in the darkness beyond. Marian blinked at me through her tears and seemed to regain her bearings.
"The Coast Guard!" she cried. "Oh Rumil, they have to make it! They have to!"
"So must we!" I half pushed, half dragged her toward the path u the side of the cove. "We cannot be trapped here between the Sea and the highway. Run!"
Through the fog of Marian's despair rose a steely resolved. She grasped my hand and ran with me up to the bluffs and into the cypresses. Ignoring the small store of food and other telltale signs of hasty departure, Marian grabbed what was left of her pack on the run. We broke out of the cypresses and plunged through the tall grass. Sirens wailed through the night. Tires screeched on the road ahead, and several pairs of headlights shone dimly through the fog.
"I won't let them find you," Marian hissed vehemently and kept an iron grip on my arm. We crouched low on the ocean side of the road. Flashlights played feebly up and down the saturated pavement. Two sets of headlights bounced and veered off the road toward the water.
"Now!" I urged Marian, and we darted across the road and took cover in the shrubs along the ditch on the landward side. The beam of a powerful flashlight shone onto the road where we had been only an instant before. Marian and I crouched unmoving under our cloaks.
"I thought I saw something move," a male voice called from a few yards away.
"Probably just a deer," another voice answered impatiently from further away. "Captain said that light came from the beach, not from the road. Come on, this way."
The flashlight hovered indecisively along the edge of the road for an endless moment longer.
"Can't see a thing in this damned soup anyway," the first voice mumbled, and the flashlight beam turned away from us and retreated back along the highway.
As quietly as Marian could manage, we worked our way up the hill until we broke through the low-lying layer of fog and the stars appeared bright in the firmament above. From the cover of a rock outcropping, we turned and looked back toward the Sea. Two starts sparkled particularly bright and golden in the sky just above the fog bank, followed by a squadron of jets that would be too late. As we watched, a brilliant light, too bright for a shooting star, streaked across the heavens and fell to the horizon. Then it and the two sparkling stars dissolved away.
"What was that?" Marian asked me, staring with glazed eyes into the west.
"It was either a comet," I held her against my side and told her gently, "or it was Haldir, returning the Silmaril to its rightful place."
"They made it?" she asked in a daze. "And you're safe now? And Toto too?"
"They made it. We're safe now," I rejoiced as more lights descended onto the beach below us and the jets broke off from pursuing objects that had strangely disappeared.
Thus reassured, Marian collapsed into my arms.
1 From the Poem "Love in Labrador" by Carl Sandburg
2 Yestaré:
3 Aiwenor: the lower sky.
4 Ekkaia: The Outer Sea encircling Middle Earth; the Encircling Sea.
5 Melamin: My love.
6 Amrun nin: My sunrise.
7 Menel: heavens.
8 Glín: Look!
9 Welcome to Earth once more, great one.
10 Namarie: Farewell.