In An Age Before – Part 260
Chapter One hundred fifty-five
Taur e-Ndaedelos – The Third Age of the Sun
When Helluin and Mithrandir left Dol Guldur, they first returned to the tower courtyard and then walked down the avenue to the main gate. If some spell had sealed it whilst Sauron abode in the fortress, they found no sign of it. The portcullis was already raised and the massive doors swung open surprisingly easily on sufficiently balanced hinges. As they crossed the causeway o'er the defiled defile, Helluin paused to glance down o'er the parapet.
"Here aforetime was the hall of Lord Oldbark at the foot of Laiquadol," she said to the Wizard.
Of the falls and the enchanted stream, there was no longer any trace. The attending mixed tree species of the Onod's court and the bordering yews had long ago been hewn down and burnt. She stood silent a while in melancholy recollection and shook her head sadly.
"I am glad thou met him," Mithrandir said, equally wistful. "I knew him and his kin long ago."
Helluin looked to him in surprise, for the Onodrim had been driven out of Calenglad but shortly after the Ithryn arrived from the West.
"Much have I forgotten whilst cloaked in flesh," the Ithron said, "yet some things I remember still. Surprising to none, his folk reverenced Lady Kementári and gathered to sing her praise in the Light of Illuin and Ormal at such times when she came forth from Almaren to tend Arda, but then Melkor threw down the Lamps and she set a sleep upon them. 'Twas long ere they rose again, alas." The Wizard shook his head sadly, recalling somewhat of better times.
At his tidings, Helluin recalled a conversation she had shared with the Onod in S.A. 415.
"It is the belief of my kind that once long ago all trees were aware, and many sang together in great choruses, praising the Valar and the One. This was when the Valar still lived amongst us in Middle Earth, ere the Lamps fell and the world changed. But later, in the passing of their slow and uneventful lives, most fell into a sleep. Perhaps Yavanna herself set the sleeping spell upon us during the Dark Ages that followed. My memories don't stretch back that far, and yet I have dreams of that time ere we were awakened, again it seemed, 'neath the new stars. It cannot be proven yea or nay, but it is a comforting thought to us. And so even in these latter days, just as you and the Elves have done, some trees can be reawakened to speech. We rouse them as well, to wakefulness and more," Oldbark told her, "and then they are known as Huorns. Wild and dangerous to others they become and at whiles it takes but little effort, for their wrath is primed by the foul deeds done upon them. It grows so even now."
At the time, she had wondered …could the life of the trees really be so very ancient a thing…well 'nigh 29,500 years or more? If so, then along with Manwë's Eagles, they would be amongst the eldest living beings upon Arda. Oldbark had claimed he had no memories of the Age of the Lamps, and yet Mithrandir remembered him from those days. Perhaps the Sleep of Yavanna had dulled his recall of those earliest times, rendering them akin to dreams.
"Truly, thou remember Oldbark amongst the choirs of the Onodrim on the shores of the Great Lake?" she asked, now that she could.
"Aye, he, Fangorn and others of their kindred…they were conceived in The Song, thou know. They and the Eagles appeared in the Vision of Ilúvatar, I believe as an outcome of Kementári's part in the themes."
Helluin nodded to him at the confirmation of her long-held suspicions. Somehow, knowing of their ancientry made their absence all the more a cause for sorrow. Added to the evidence of her soulmate's disappearance that she had carried from the dungeon, it renewed the Noldo's melancholy. She became somber and mostly silent during the days they spent walking west through Mirkwood and those feelings lingered unresolved as they trod north towards Suꝺriborg.
Despite his geriatric appearance, Mithrandir was blessed with the vitality of a far younger Man. This was as much the result of his being a Maia sheathed in mortal flesh as 'twas of Narya, the Ring of Fire that he bore, which supported his spirit and gave courage and endurance to his heart. He paced Helluin even when she marched along, unmindful that her untiring stride would have soon exhausted any of purely mortal blood. She was simply preoccupied with thoughts of loss, sorrow, and the absence of her beloved. To her, the years had seemed to flee too swiftly, taking with them the blessings she had known, and leaving behind 'naught but longing, regrets, and memories of better times.
Mithrandir watched her from the corners of his eyes, worrying with sympathy for his friend. Oft enough had he had seen such moods in Elves, the withdrawal, the despondent contemplation, the absence of mirth, and the preoccupation with grand themes rendered depressing by memory. Such had brought on the Fading in no few of the Elder Children, when pain, hopelessness, and exhaustion took root in their hearts and their suffering became o'erwhelming. No few had given up their lives on the Mortal Shores. It had happened too in Aman. Míriel Ϸerindë vesse Finwë had been the first. Fated to be the last to sail into the West, Mithrandir wondered if Helluin would be trapped in a protracted torment of grief, passing heartbroken through the millennia in a grey haze of sorrow.
In a week, they covered the hundred and forty miles to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, arriving on 5 Nórui. The Wizard was greatly impressed with what he saw there, accepting handfuls of berries from the runners in the bramble and an apple that dropped from the trees at his feet. Helluin set aside her weapons and Beinvír's possessions recovered from Dol Guldur. She drew cider, now grown hard, and made flat bread from flour, crushed nuts, and dried fruit. Some of the smoked cheeses and sausages had remained wholesome. After their meal, during which Helluin said little, she groaned and stood.
"Pray take thine ease, my friend," she said. "I must now face the wrath of the livestock."
"Perhaps I shall accompany thee and lend morale support," Mithrandir had said. If the plants had seemed enchanted, then perhaps the animals were as well and he was curious.
Helluin nodded, but looked as if she was headed to her gibbet.
The horses, sheep, and cows welcomed Helluin back with great relief. They had complaints, of course, for there were some repairs needed to the stables, barn, fold, and byre, but mostly, they were happy to see her returned. The chickens were another matter. Many were young enough that they had no knowledge of her whatsoe'er, but being as they were part of a flock, they followed the rooster and a few older hens when they expressed their displeasure at her absence.
Helluin had been dreading entering the coop, but finally she had steeled her heart, taken a deep breath, and ducked through the door. The space was awash in feathers and guano, and reeked of ammonia, just as she had expected. As she stood taking it all in, the flock surrounded her in a whirlwind, squawking in indignation. Chickens took wing in the confined space, raising a cyclone of shed feathers, shredded straw, and seed shells, and they spattered her with ballistic guano. It seemed that e'erything clung. Helluin fled the coop coated with detritus, cemented in place with chicken droppings. She appeared to have been poorly tarred and feathered.
Mithrandir could not help his explosion of mirth as he sat down hard, convulsing in hysterics whilst he watched the Noldo stomp off to the river and wade in. He did not notice the trail of tears tracking down her cheeks, nor the hurt in her eyes. Her understanding that her reaction was driven by her lingering melancholy and was wholly out of proportion to her humiliating reception by the poultry was the only reason she did not burn down the chicken coop and walk away from the farm.
During the following nine weeks, Helluin built a new chicken coop, demolished the old one, renewed the thatching atop the cabin, stable, byre, and sheepfold, and weeded the vegetable garden. She repaired beehives and harvested summer berries. Finally, she harvested the winter wheat and rye, a labor of three weeks by itself. Mithrandir had taken his leave after a week, hauling a sack of dried mushrooms that he had recognized and harvested in the cow pasture. He bid Helluin farewell, his worries much reduced after seeing her active and not paralyzed by her sorrows, and headed north intending to visit Rhosgobel.
Once she had finished the most pressing repairs, Helluin took Beinvír's bow and quiver, leaving her Númenórean bow behind, and seeking for the solitude in which she had always found solace, marched off in the dead of night. Her lover's primary weapon seemed to give her comfort, being a tangible link. The Noldo walked to the north-south track and headed north with little by way of a destination in mind. She simply thought that some time spent 'neath the trees would do her good, or at least t'would provide a measure of peace. She had ne'er marked aforetime what a clamoring, demanding horde the animals comprised. 'Twas 10 Urui.
On the 14th, Helluin reached the Old Forest Road. Rhosgobel lay another ten miles north on the eaves of the forest, but thither Mithrandir had gone and in all honesty, she was not in a mood to confront two Wizards and a plethora of animals. Instead, she turned east and walked into Mirkwood.
Now whilst the Noldo found the forest superficially peaceful, it drew forth a harvest of mixed emotions. Helluin had millennia of history with Calenglad and it seemed that each memory vied for her time and contemplation. There had been periods of serenity in which she had recalled the Westward March and her wonder at the wide lands the Noldor had passed through. There were the conversations, sometimes frustrating, that she had engaged in with the trees. Helluin recalled her initial meeting with Oldbark, the war of the Avari and Orcs, the mind-numbing Ent Moot she had participated in, and her visit with Celeborn and Galadriel…and Beinvír.
A fortnight passed as she wandered alone, enmeshed in memories that encompassed o'er fifty-two centuries. Yet more and more oft, these included the times when she and the Green Elf had tarried 'neath the trees and they left her with a longing for those days that she seemed unable to shake off. Sorrow for her beloved's absence grew and she knew t'would find no resolution 'til they were reunited.
With the threat of Sauron relieved, Helluin was wanting for focus, and absent some dire need or grave mission, she was left with a maudlin span, filling the empty hours with 'naught but the torment of recollections. The Noldo was in no mood for company, and yet wandering alone had brought her no peace. Sometimes, to silence the cacophony of her thoughts, she would spend an afternoon shooting Beinvír's bow, for that activity focused her attention and provided temporary surcease. Still, ere a fortnight had passed, she was miserable and wished she had ne'er come.
'Twas 24Urui, (August 24th more or less). From a glade in Taur e-Ndaedelos¹ 'nigh the Forest Road came the twang of a bowstring and hissing flights that ended in thuds of impact as arrow after arrow slammed into a tree trunk. The shots followed each other with but a heartbeat 'twixt them, 'til thirty times did that sound break the stillness of the woods. Thereafter came a space of near-silence lasting perhaps ten minutes ere the whole was repeated yet again. 'Twas someone intent at the practice of their archery perhaps, and yet each round of shooting was closely followed by soft sobbing. It went on through the afternoon, drawing the attention of one who happened to be 'nigh. ¹(Taur e-Ndaedelos, Forest of the Great Fear, The LotR, RotK, Appendix F, pg 515. Name given to Greenwood the Great after the Shadow arose in Dol Guldur about 3rd Age 1050. For the purposes of this story, the new name increased in common usage through the middle third of the 3rd Age, as repeated threats from Dol Guldur led to the abandonment of the earlier name. Sindarin, Mirkwood in Westron.)
The stealth of the Tawarwaith served him well, this young prince of his woodland realm, traveling alone as he sometimes did in the newly reborn safety of his father's realm. Others of his kind wandered thus, or in small groups now, since enemies were few and he felt not the danger of preceding years when companies of Yrch could be found, going hither and thither about their mischief. The great power of the Ithron Mithrandir had driven hence from Dol Guldur that darkness which the Yrch had served 'til the past spring. Those had been the most joyful tidings heard in his father's halls for centuries. Since early summer, 'naught of their enemies had been seen, for those not slain had fled back to their lairs and warrens in the Hithaeglir 'cross Anduin, or so the Elves of Mirkwood reckoned. Confirmation from the Galadhrim, his peoples' allies and distant kin in Lothlórien, was still pending.
Now his green cloak and hood and his silent footfalls brought him undetected into viewing range of the melancholy sounds that had carried to his ears upon the breeze. About him, the very trees seemed saddened. 'Twas as if they had absorbed the o'erflowing heartbreak of the archer. For a long spell, he crouched unseen in the shadows in the lee of a thick bole, watching and scarcely breathing.
In a clearing formed as a long alley 'twixt old growth trunks stood one of Elven kind, yet a stranger and stranger still to his eyes. An elleth she was, tall as a lord of the Sindar, taller he realized, than his own father, the king. He could not see her face, for he stood slightly behind her left shoulder, but he noted that her hair was jet, dark as a moonless night, shorn in bangs 'cross the front, braided at the sides, whilst in back it hung midway 'twixt her broad shoulders and slender waist. She stood at one end of the clearing, clad in black mail and plate of a fashion so antique that he could not even recall a tale telling of when its like had been made. A long, sword-hilted dagger was sheathed at her back. A bright circular blade hung from a clip on her belt. Upon the ground at her feet lay a travel-stained cloak of unfamiliar mixed greens, a traveler's bag of the same hues, and a sheathed longsword in a battered scabbard. His eyes followed her every move, for she was obviously a fell warrior, and she was an undeclared stranger in his father's lands.
The bow she held was recurved, in form similar to that which he bore himself, yet unlike the bows of Mirkwood or Lothlórien, 'twas constructed by the lamination of different materials, whilst his own was carved from a single stave. It seemed small for her stature, barely a ranga in length, yet from the flight of the arrows and the sounds of their impacts, he deemed it lacked not for power. O'er her shoulder hung a quiver of arrows to match it, and this too was of mixed greens like her cloak. She stood stock still, feet planted upon her firing line, the bow held unwavering in her left hand. 'Naught of her form moved save her right arm, reaching back in a blur to draw a shaft, unerringly fitting its notch to the string, drawing smoothly hand to ear, and then releasing. Ere the string ceased its quivering, the next arrow was being nocked. And all this she did in time with her breathing, steady and relaxed, and yet so deceptively fast. He had ne'er seen an archer nock and release whilst so thoroughly at one with their weapon. Indeed so intriguing was her display that only when the last arrow took flight from her bow did he shift his gaze to follow its path.
Thither, some fifteen fathoms down the alley 'twixt the boles, thirty arrows sprang from a trunk that was fallen and caught at an angle as it leaned now against a sturdy living tree. The arrowheads stood all aligned vertically, a finger's width apart, with all the shafts pointing back to the archer in a flawless row at the same inclination. The thirty arrows spanned perhaps an arm's length of wood, as close spaced as though they had been laid upon a table for inspection. His Elvish sight reported all this, yet his mind had difficulty believing what he saw. Even amongst the vaunted archers of Mirkwood, such mastery was unheard of. When he turned his gaze back to find the archer, she was gone. So too, he noted with a chill of foreboding, was her sword.
For some moments, he scanned the clearing and the surrounding woods for her. In the dappled greens of the afternoon, he should have been quick to pick out her black form in this familiar forest, even amongst the shifting shadows of afternoon. Yet now tense moments passed and he marked her not. Silence lay heavy 'neath the trees and he shivered. Not a bird called. Not an insect sang. The chill upon his spine deepened as though a cold hand hovered at his back.
"Whosoe'er art thou that wouldst spy upon me as one black-hearted and in league with the Lord of Mordor?" Came the elleth's whisper at his ear. The words were spoken in Silvan, but in an archaic mode.
Her voice was velvet and fleece, soft, smooth, and seductive, and yet with depths of menace like a clear mountain stream so cold it stops the heart at the first taste. The query was accompanied by a gentle prick at the side of his neck, just above his collarbone, and precisely o'er the pathways of his life's blood. He held himself completely still despite his shock, whilst his eyes dropped to find the tip of an arrow held at his neck by an unwavering hand.
From arrow now to a hand encased in articulated segments did his gaze travel, thence to the black vambrace encasing her forearm, past an elbow sheathed in fine black mail to the segmented rerebrace upon her upper arm that lapped with the pauldron upon her shoulder. He followed the line of her neck, graceful and yet taut with muscles, to a strong jaw, straight nose and eyes that crackled with an alarming blue fire. And o'er all, he felt as much as saw, a blinding aura of Light such as none of his people possessed, that radiated from her fëa by the grace of her abiding long ago in the Blessed Lands of the West, which were to him only a promise and a myth.
Calben; Golodh¹! Kinslayer! Two-hundred years and more had he walked 'neath the trees, yet ne'er in his life had he met such a one. Ne'er had he thought to. Their kindred had long been rare upon the Hither Shores. Indeed the only one he knew east of the Misty Mountains was the Lady Galadriel, Queen of the Golden Wood of Lothlórien 'cross Anduin. Fair and perilous and ancient was that queen. Whispered rumors told that she worked some fell and unknown enchantment upon her lands. In that realm, 'twas said that by her power, one walked out from 'neath the sun! ¹(Calben, sing. of Celbin, an Elf of Light or High Elf, Sindarin; Golodh, sing. of Golodhrim, an Exiled Elf, syn. Noldo Sindarin)
"Speak thou ere I pin thee to hither bole. Surely an Afor¹ know'th better than most that an arrow needs not a bow to slay," she said just as softly, holding his eyes captive with her gaze and compelling him to speak with her will. "Declare thyself ere I act…hastily." ¹(afor, sing. of efyr, a Silvan Elf, Sindarin)
The young prince could not have stayed his tongue to save his life. Ne'er had he felt the will of another so strongly dominating his own, not even his father's. 'Twas as if the words were squeezed from his lips like the juice from a grape.
"I am called Legolas, Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood and Heir of the King," he choked out in Sindarin, appalled at the lack of strength in his voice.
After a few moments the arrow was withdrawn from his neck and he was spun 'round so that his back pressed against the trunk. For what seemed an eternity she examined him, peeling his being with her unnatural sapphire gaze, dagger sharp, which sought for any untruth. Then with a blink, those icy eyes released him and he gasped, taking deep breaths to quell the shuddering of his heart and the shaking of his limbs. He stood facing her now, feeling lightheaded as from the strong wines of Dorwinion. The elleth regarded him with an unblinking stare for what seemed well 'nigh an Age, again taking his measure. At last, she sighed and replaced the arrow in the quiver at her back, and then took a step away from him.
"So, thou shalt not give me leave this day to sample his royal blood," a cold and disappointed voice whispered in Sindarin from the scabbard at her side.
"Nor, I wager, shalt thou give me leave to send hence his fëa to the Void," groused the ring-bladed Sarchram from the clasp at her waist. The elleth cast a wry glance down at her weapons and shook her head 'nay'.
'Twas the most horrifying enchantment the young prince had e'er seen, and 'twas one thing too many in too rapid a succession of shocks. From his lightheadedness aforetime, a great blackness rose up to engulf him. For a moment, he felt the pounding beat of the blood rushing in his veins ere he slumped to the ground at the base of the tree.
When he awoke, Legolas found himself reclining against a springy backrest of quickly woven branches. A small fire burned in a shallow trench before him, 'cross which the strange elleth regarded him o'er the rim of a cup of sweet-smelling herbal tea.
"A prince of the House of Oropher thou may be, young Legolas, yet faint of heart I deem thee," she said. "Tell me then, son of Thranduil, how fares thy father?"
Legolas could but stare at her for a few moments ere he found his tongue.
"He is well yet grim, for e'er do care and sorrow weigh upon him in these latter days," he answered truthfully. "His realm is plagued by spiders and has been long beset by the threat of yonder Shadow."
Here he canted his head a fraction to the south where stood Dol Guldur. A flash of pain flickered in the elleth's eyes ere 'twas quickly suppressed, and he noted the momentary clenching of her strong jaw.
"I have seen Thranduil Oropherion but once since ere he marched unto Dagorlad with the Host of Calenglad i'Dhaer," she mused softly to herself. "Alas, I could prepare them not, nor fight beside them." And of the time after I shall not speak, for 'tis surely fraught with a sorrow now just as great.
With effort, Legolas controlled his surprise. Dagorlad! The War of the Last Alliance! It had been fought o'er 1,800 years ere his birth. Thither had his grandfather, King Oropher fallen in battle, and half his warriors with him. And afterwards, in each year of the Siege of the Barad-dûr, yet more had perished, 'til finally the remnant his father had led home to Mirkwood numbered but a third of the original army. Dagorlad, the Barad-dûr, and Mordor…the names were little more than nightmare lore to him, for such places seemed far away, and nowadays few would speak of them. And she had used the ancient name of the forest which none had spoken in many long years. Obviously she knew of those days, and perhaps in her memories she yet lived in those times long past. Perhaps as well, she had fought in the Black Land!
"Pray tell me thy name," he asked after summoning his courage. He knew little of the Celbin save that they were ancient, distrusted by his people, and yet held powers and wisdom as much beyond his folk as they themselves held o'er the kindred of Men. He had felt it earlier, a taste only, and 'twas wholly beyond his experience. If this Golodh had known his father and grandfather long ago, then Legolas was desperately curious about her. His father seldom spoke of those dark days of war and ne'er in detail, bearing hence from that time a great sorrow, neither his first, nor his last.
"I am sure that such of thy lore as recalls me at all names me Mórgolodh," she answered, "a scourge upon thy people and a bearer of ill-tidings."
"Yet my father knew thee and I would bring tidings of thee to him," Legolas said.
"Thou shalt do no such thing!"
Legolas recoiled from the flare of blue fire in her eyes. Battle fire he deemed it, kindled from her fëa as it blazed with wrath! Such had not been seen in all the years of his father's reign; again, he knew it only from lore.
Rightly dost thou fear me, young prince, Helluin thought. Rightly shouldst thou hate me as well.
Two millennia ago she had convinced King Oropher to join the Last Alliance. By her own appraisal, she had goaded Thranduil's kith and kin to their doom. Ne'er again would she excuse herself for her part, nor blame the present king if he wished her dead. Even so, the king had once absolved her of blame in a time of joyous celebration, yet that time of joy had turned to darkness after. By her choice, she would trouble Thranduil not…nay, not even with the mention of her name, for her darkness still raged within her as strongly as e'er. 'Nigh four hundreds of the Yrch in Dol Guldur would have attested to that, for she had slain them to a one in her wrath but a few weeks ago.
Slowly the fire in her eyes dimmed as she brooded yet again on her memories of the past. O'er the last fortnight, they had become her only companions. In them, four great Ages of the world came and went. O'er 10,000 years of life ground by. It had begun with the long march of her people 'neath the young stars, following a Vala's promise into the Blessed West. Thither she had lived in peace for 3,600 years, learning and acquiring power. She had explored well 'nigh every corner of Aman. Alone amongst all living beings, she had stood naked 'neath the falling dew of the Two Trees upon Corollairë, enveloped thus in a blinding aura of liquid silver and gold, wherein she had absorbed the power of their Blessed Light.
Many kindreds of beings populated her memories, vivid as the days in which they had lived. Kings and queens, lords and ladies; a home and a family she recalled in the bright Undying Land 'cross the Sundering Sea. Then had come the decades of flight through Araman and the grinding ice of the Helcaraxë, fraught with personal anguish, into exile in the Mortal Lands 'neath the newly risen moon and sun. A people divided fought centuries of bitter war, wherein befell the ruin of many a noble house and the passing of many a hero and king. The world was twice reformed by the wrath of the gods. Ancient realms failed and lands had been whelmed 'neath the waves. There had been many a new beginning and many a diminution of hope. Time wore on, and by its passing eroded the vitality of the fëa and the substance of the hröa, and yet through it all she had endured.
Then, 4,243 years ago, she had met her soulmate in a forest far to the west. 'Twas in the years leading up to a great war, fought in her beloved's homeland of Eriador. Thither had the Laiquendi, the Green Elves, settled after the destruction of Ossiriand at the end of the 1st Age. Of that kindred has little e'er been told, for in all of Middle Earth, no other Elves so perfected the arts of stealth, nay, not even amongst the Edhil of Mirkwood or Lothlórien. Yet of that elusive kindred had by chance come into Helluin's life the stunning maiden Beinvír, whose name meant Fair Treasure in the Grey Elven tongue.
For o'er forty centuries they shared a love so deep that its aura had blessed the land of Ithilien for an Age. 'Twixt their fëar lay no veil, and in their lovemaking were their spirits joined upon the ethereal plane, whence the Light that flared forth was espied even by the Valar 'cross the Sundering Sea and the curve of the bent world. Of Beinvír had Helluin learnt the ways of the Laiquendi…the absolute stealth that confounded all living eyes, even the eyes of other Elves. And from Helluin was Beinvír gifted a vision of the Blessed Realm of Aman as it had been ere the sun and moon, when the Two Trees, golden Laurelin and silver Telperion, shone forth their Holy Light. From that vision did Beinvír, alone amongst all the Moriquendi, the Elves of Darkness who had ne'er set foot in Aman, gain a measure of the ennoblement and power of the Amanyar. The fugitive glow that shone forth from her eyes and reflected in her fëa was a legacy of their love. For 4,031 years of the sun the twain had been well 'nigh inseparable; seldom apart in body and ne'er in spirit. For Helluin, once a dour and solitary wanderer, the intimacy of such a soul-bonding had wrought a change irreversible, and as with any other road, once trod, her footsteps could not be undone.
Upon a time in an Age before, as the days darkened and Middle Earth stood poised upon the brink of war, the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower had told her:
"Helluin, I knew thee in Gondolin and ere that in Aman. I knew thy brother too. Thou know I understand the source of thy darkness and what drives thee in battle. I see thee now with Beinvír and I am happy for ye both. But I cannot imagine what would come to pass should some doom befall her and leave thee alive, tied then to the world by yet another bond of heartache and memory."
Glorfindel's words very nearly made Helluin choke. 'Twas her worst nightmare.
And to her resurrected friend, Helluin had declared:
"She refused passage to Tol Eressëa to stay with me," Helluin whispered. And after a pause, she added even more softly, "I would bathe this world in blood to avenge her."
Imagine the effortless emotional intimacy of an aged mortal couple who have had the good fortune to meet and marry in their youth, and then share together a handful of decades' loving companionship. Each spouse becomes a part of the whole that the two grow into. After half a century, the couple celebrates their golden anniversary amidst grandchildren and lifelong friends. Yet such a union would pale before the love of Helluin and Beinvír, who could count a succession of eighty such golden anniversaries. So the years had passed in Middle Earth; Helluin of the Noldor and Beinvír of the Laiquendi, immortal lovers in a mortal land, sharing their hearts' bliss together.
And then she was gone.
Memories.
In the silent forest, the mug of tea exploded in Helluin's suddenly incandescent hand.
Both lapsed into an extended silence thereafter. 'Nigh on an hour later, Helluin offered Legolas tea from the kettle that hung off a forked branch o'er the fire to fill his cup. The sky above had darkened as evening drew down; deepening the shadows amidst the wood, and now the glow of the embers in the hunter's trench fire seemed a window upon the forest floor, looking into the orange magma at the world's heart. Somber it seemed, secretive, and mirthless. 'Twas unlike the open bonfires to which the prince was accustomed, for no flickering shadows danced from leaping flames. Indeed, there was barely any scent of wood smoke either. At last, Legolas resolved to try again.
"Surely thou should declare thyself within the bounds of the king's realm, for 'tis long custom to obtain thus the monarch's leave to wander in hither forest."
At this, the dark Noldo curled her lips in a grin that was at once both amused and grim.
"Young prince, long ere thy king's ascension and the establishment of his realm did I obtain the welcome and grace of Oldbark, Lord of the Onodrim, and he the right sovereign of Calenglad i'Dhaer, appointed by Yavanna herself, for to come and to go as I pleased 'neath hither trees. 'Twas well 'nigh 5,800 years ago. I had once the leave of King Telpeapáro, whence in years long past did the Avari dwell hither. And I have still the leave of King Oropher and thine adar as well, unless 'tis rescinded. Nay, Prince Legolas, I have no need now to declare myself anew."
After eyeing him a moment longer, she drew forth her sword and a sharpening stone and began to whet the already flawless edge, contriving thus an activity comforting and familiar for the purpose of ignoring her guest.
Legolas sighed and drew forth a skin of wine and some waybread and proceeded to his supper. She had spoken of the Onodrim, the semi-mythical Herders of the Trees, unseen in the wood for o'er a thousand years. He knew them only from a story of his childhood. His lost naneth had claimed to have seen one, once upon a time in her youth.
Again and again his gaze strayed to the dark warrior and her blade. Mórgolodh she had named herself…Black Exile. Blue eyes of fire. In the midst of a bite, he stopped cold. He marked now the black longsword and the bright Ring she wore at her waist for what they were. They whispered of death with fell voices all their own! A chilling memory from a childhood tale insinuated itself into his mind. 'Twas a tale brought out of Mordor by a few terrified veterans recalling distant kinsmen freed from the very prisons of the Enemy himself, a tale of one who had fought the accursed Nine in Mt. Doom, a tale of one who had died in single combat with the Dark Lord! With effort, he recalled the details.
"Art thou truly she known long aforetime as Helluin Maeg-mórmenel, now returned from the Halls of Mandos upon the Western Shores?"
Helluin sighed and regarded Legolas with a raised eyebrow, but she stilled her hands and set Anguirél 'cross her knees.
"I have kept company with Námo in his halls long aforetime, and I have shared too the hospitality of Nienna his sister, such as 'twas, but if thou means that I have passed from this life and returned again, then nay, thy tale is but empty rumor." For I cannot die.
"But thou fought Sauron's Nine in Mordor, and having defeated them in battle, challenged even their master," Legolas claimed, reciting such lore as he had heard, "and coming thence to the Barad-dûr, at last fell in combat with the Abhorrent One ere he appeared upon the slopes of Orodruin whither he lost his Ring!"
Helluin had ne'er heard this aforetime, not even once, and now incredulity warred with humor and annoyance at the telling. Was this truly the lore that sages of the Woodland Realm recalled? She sighed and shook her head.
"I fought the Nine. That much is true, but six fled wounded in the opening moments of combat and the last two fled the fiery mountain later ere I myself took my leave. One only of the Úlairi did I slay. And as for their master, yes I challenged him…again, and yes, we fought in the topmost tower of the Barad-dûr. But I died not by his hand, nor any other, and our combat resolved little save the recovery of a spoil from Minas Ithil."
By then, Helluin's voice had taken on a deadly timbre, almost a growl, and a sneer curled her lips as blue fire crackled again in her eyes.
"The base and craven Master of Thralls came forth to battle at the last, but only after I assailed and challenged him in his lair, and thither he met his defeat at Isildur's hand." And I should have slain him once and for all were it not for a meddling Eagle, she ground out to herself in thought.
She was seething now, and the events of a few months past crashed into her mind. When she spoke again, her voice held a bitter edge, sharp as the steel of her sword.
"He hath fled me aforetime just as he hath fled our last meeting. Most recently we contested in Dol Guldur, whereat he again dared face me, but the coming of Mithrandir sapped what courage he had and he took flight, knowing that against me he might battle even without his Ring, yet withstand us both he could not." Helluin shook her head. She had been closer than e'er aforetime to finally redressing the loss of her soulmate. Her voice softened as she spoke a promise for the future that she had known in her heart for an Age. "I shall pursue him unto the End of Days if need be, for my grievances against him are great and come down 'cross many, many years. He knows this. And he fears this."
Unconsciously her hand had strayed to the mithril Ring and she raised the bright, circular blade from her waist. In the dim light of the embers, the cirth upon it seemed to twist and writhe as if wrought of fire. Had he understood Quenya and the script of Hadhodrond he would hath blanched in horror, but to him, a young woodland prince, the script spoke not. All the same, the gaze of both was fixed long upon it.
Thereafter Helluin's focus turned within, dwelling thither upon some memory that brought alternating smiles and grimaces to her lips. For his part, Legolas watched her through the long hours of darkness, moving not, nor making any sound. She was indeed the most fascinating being he had e'er met; tormented, powerful, and beautiful beyond any he had known. The contest of Light and Darkness within her being was more compelling than the wildest of winter storms upon the Hithaeglir, or the flood crest of Anduin after spring rains.
When dawn brightened the forest, she blinked once and sat up straighter, casting quick glances at him, the sky, and the surrounding woods. It seemed that she had reached a decision.
"What wouldst thou, O Prince of Mirkwood, for perhaps thou shalt inherit a fading realm in a fading world one day, and in the years to come, again shall our people contest with Sauron Gorthaur," Helluin predicted with certainty. "Thou stand next in line to rule amidst this darkling wood. Hither long ago I failed the Avari of King Telpeapáro; I failed thy grandsire King Oropher, and I failed to lay low my enemy at Tharbad, upon Amon Hen, in Mordor, and in Dol Guldur. Upon the northern ice, I failed to keep safe my own brother, but worst of all, I failed to guard well the one who holds my heart. In memory of all those whom I have failed o'er the long years of my life, I would aid thee ere the time fails too."
"Then I would that thou instruct me in the ways of a warrior," Legolas said, "for if thou know that war shall indeed come again as of old, I must prepare for the sake of my people."
He gulped, for though resolved in mind, Legolas had always been terrified by the stories he had heard from the veterans of the War of the Last Alliance. He detested fighting. This Helluin clearly perceived.
"So too did thy father feel when he came to me seeking instruction," Helluin whispered. "For the betterment of his people did he consign himself to learn somewhat of swordplay from a Golodh. Very well, Prince Legolas. Come. Show me thy weapons and thy skill."
Shortly later, Legolas found himself standing at the end of the very same alley 'twixt the trees whither he had first spied Helluin the afternoon before. Thither he took careful aim and let fly his full quiver of two-dozen arrows. Helluin stood watching to his right, her blue gaze resting upon his form, ne'er looking to the flight of the shafts or their striking of the mark. That she could tell by ear. She was far more interested in his bearing. When he completed his sequence, he looked to her in question.
"How felt the shooting to thee?" she asked.
After a moment's consideration, he said, "comfortable as always. I have had now this bow for some years and 'tis grown familiar to my hand."
Helluin nodded.
"'Tis familiar as a weapon, or as a tool of craft long used and well known by thy hand," she restated. He nodded 'aye'. She then cast her glance down the alley to check the target. "A weapon that stands 'twixt thee and thy target," she added.
Again, Legolas fixed her with a questioning glance.
"If thou stood but an arm's length from yonder target and held the arrows in thy hand, wouldst thou question thine ability to place each arrow 'nigh one already planted thither, such that their points adjoined those already placed?"
After moment's consideration, Legolas shook his head 'nay'.
"But standing hither, would thou question the outcome were thou to shoot?"
"Aye," Legolas answered truthfully. She spoke of striking a mark less than the thickness of a fingertip at 30 yards, and doing it two-dozen times in succession.
Helluin nodded in agreement and took up again Beinvír's bow and quiver. After motioning him to exchange places, she moved to stand where the prince had stood. Then she planted her feet and brought up the bow.
As she raised the weapon in her straightened left arm, her right hand was already reaching to the quiver. Helluin drew a shaft and brought it o'er her shoulder, meeting the string as the bow came to the firing position. Without pause she drew, loosing the first arrow and reaching for the second. In a continuous flow, she fired two-dozen times, ne'er pausing to resight or readjust herself. All of her movements were synchronized in a manner so natural that the bow and arrows merely extended her reach 'cross the distance. And the arrows found their marks as though planted directly by her hand from two feet away rather than ninety.
When she was done, she lowered the bow and turned to face the prince.
"I have no need to look upon the target to know the outcome, for I felt each shaft find its intended mark," Helluin stated. "In battle I shoot and dismiss the foe, for I know he shall be struck to his death; of this there is no question in my mind. Beyond technical skill lies the will and that more than the hand determines the outcome. The weapon stands not 'twixt me and my target, and I see aforetime the outcome of the shot. I will the arrow to find its mark."
Whilst Helluin waited, Legolas walked the length of the alley to retrieve their shafts. When he arrived at the target he marked the arrows…thither stood one of Helluin's planted head 'nigh head next to each of his own such that metal touched metal. 'Twas an astonishing display of accuracy. He exhaled softly in awe. No one he knew could shoot like that. Indeed if he reported it, no one he knew would believe him. One by one, he pulled free the arrows, separated them into two bundles, and returned to Helluin.
"I want thee to shoot again upon yonder target, seeing it this time in thy mind's eye and willing hence thine arrows," she said. Legolas nodded and took up his place. Ere he could draw, Helluin added, "do thus with thine eyes shut tight."
He could but gape at her. As if for encouragement, she closed her eyes and nodded for him to begin. With a gulp and thoughts of lost arrows, Legolas closed his eyes and nocked his first shaft.
'Twas strange, he thought, yet he knew whither his target stood, had felt the shots taken aforetime, and could govern his body to repeat that which he had already done. More than this, with an ability akin to drawing forth memories in his times of rest, he could actually revisit his memory of the earlier round of shooting. In doing so, he visualized the fallen and leaning trunk. He took a breath, drew, and released.
Legolas sent the shaft to flight and was rewarded with the sound of a solid impact at the precise time his memory recalled. He drew and fired again. By the end of the two-dozen arrows, he was moving more quickly and with more confidence. At last, he lowered the bow and opened his eyes. At the end of the alley he noted, to his chagrin, that there were arrows sticking out of the fallen trunk as well as the trees 'round it. Indeed many had found their mark, but some others had struck much else besides. Helluin, he noted, had not opened her eyes.
From her position several feet to his right she now raised her own bow, this time in her right hand, and with eyes still closed, commenced to shooting with the same grace, assurance, and unbroken rhythm as aforetime. Legolas looked from Helluin to the distant target. He followed a shaft as it sped to its mark 'nigh one of his own. She was striking just as aforetime, her arrows head to head with his own, and though he could ne'er be sure, he suspected that she was shooting in the same sequence in which his own arrows had struck. When she was done, she opened her eyes and looked at him rather than at the target.
"Thou saw with the eyes of memory and thou lived not in the present moment," she said with certainty, "hence thyself and thy target existed in two separate worlds and times. 'Tis hardly to be wondered at then that thy shafts sped ungoverned and upon their own way in the present."
"How then…?"
"Suspected thou that Anor would rise this morn?" Helluin asked.
"Of course," Legolas said, thinking that she jested. "Wherefore lies any surprise in that?"
"'Twas a great surprise upon that first morn when Arien carried aloft the Vessel of Laurelin's fire," Helluin stated. She looked downrange and noted the arrows. "Thither lie no surprises more than Anor's rising this morn. Thou know it shalt rise upon the morrow, and so thou shalt know the flight of thine arrows with equal certainty. Let surprise live only in thy foes, as it did in the thralls of Morgoth upon that first day. Come, let us try again."
The day passed thus in repetitions, firing and retrieving arrows. Legolas fired with closed eyes, trying to see not with his memory but with his spirit. Sometimes he struck the target and sometimes his arrows flew wide of the mark. Helluin fired until she matched his arrows, withholding such as had flown wide and stopping when each of the prince's shafts was accompanied by one of her own.
By evening, Legolas was wholly frustrated and Helluin wholly perplexed. Beinvír had learnt this lesson quickly enough. The Noldo shook her head, understanding not how the prince could be confounded by the exercise. Night drew 'nigh and Helluin cast down her bow and sat by the trench fire, wracking her brain for how to convey to him a skill not based on skill.
Several days passed thus, and whilst Legolas became e'er more deadly at his archery and at his use of the long paired knives that he bore, there were simply limits he could not surpass. It irked Helluin no end to be unable to teach him what she knew, and long did she ponder upon it, especially in the hours of darkness.
All I have sought to teach Legolas was first taught to my beloved, and no problem did I encounter thither, she thought as she lay on her ground cloth of foreskins, wherefore comes the difference 'twixt her performance and his? Both of them have a Nandor heritage, and though younger than she when we first met, he is quite skilled after his fashion.
With involuntary recall, she saw Beinvír in her flawless memory, standing upon the bank of Anduin, lithe and graceful, and heartbreakingly beautiful, looking at her with love and trust, and a fugitive light that glowed in her clear eyes of gold-flecked grey. It had been evident in times of great feeling. No such light glowed in the eyes of the prince, nor in the eyes of any Úmanya that Helluin had seen for many long years. In the past, she had marked it most notably in old King Amdír and a few other Sindar out of Doriath who had once been close to Queen Melian.
Huh, she thought, starting to form a hypothesis, could such cause answer this question? That the Light acquired secondhand from one come of the Blessed Realm doth convey some virtue upon the Hither Shores? She wished now that she could study Celeborn, a Sinda who was a kinsman to King Thingol of Doriath, who had long been close to Melian, and who had passed two Ages of the World as the beloved of Lady Galadriel. She cast her memory back to their meetings, but the images were inconclusive. Alas, that prince had been most oft calm. When Helluin had joined him and Artanis in the locked talan in Lórinand, they had been highly agitated, but she had been…distracted. She sighed.
Though Helluin was not Maia like Melian, she had absorbed far more from the Two Trees than any other of the Amanyar. Perhaps somewhat of the virtue she had accrued in the Blessed Realm been transferred to her beloved Beinvír through their omentie hondar¹, for they had been véru fëar². ¹(omentie hondar, (lit. trans)meeting of two hearts (vern. trans)soul bond = omentie(meeting of two) + honda(cardial, of the heart) + -r(pl. n. suff.) Quenya) ²(véru fëar, (lit. trans)married spirits (vern. trans)soulmates = véru(married couple) + fëar(spirits) Quenya)
With each mingling of their spirits, perhaps it could hath been accomplished. And too, thought Helluin, through the Palantír of Elostirion, Beinvír had been washed by that Blessed Light as surely as had my nine arrowheads, whose touch alone had been potent enough to wound the Úlairi. Save for Thingol himself, amongst all the Moriquendi upon the Mortal Shores, Beinvír alone had seen the Light of the Trees. If such be the case, then ne'er shall this prince ascend to the mastery I have sought to show him, yet in spite of this, I shall teach him 'aught that I can of the warrior arts.
Thereafter, acting upon the assumption of her suspicions, Helluin changed the direction of her lessons. Legolas was confused at first, but worked hard to master the skills Helluin taught. If he suspected that his teacher skipped o'er some lessons, he dwelt not upon it, but applied himself to what she presented. Like his father Thranduil had done in an Age before, Legolas labored to master all he had been shown. No longer did he seek to shoot by commanding the flight of his arrows with his will, but rather sought to perfect his coordination of hand and eye. Ten thousand arrows did he loose at the tilted trunk, practicing dawn to dusk.
Soon he fired his bow with instinctual perception, performing an activity that had well 'nigh become as natural to him as breathing. 'Neath the tall trees of Taur e-Ndaedelos, the paired long-knives of the prince flashed quicksilver patterns in the dappled sunlight, and Helluin disarmed him now only with effort. So the month of Urui passed to Ivanneth, and thence to Narbeleth as the leaves donned their autumn hues. Finally, in mid-Hithui, Helluin came to Legolas and spoke gravely to him as he worked in the chill air.
"I have shown thee so much as thou can digest for now," Helluin told him that day, "and far better are a few lessons learnt to second nature than many but touched upon. If thou practice and meditate upon that which I have shown thee, then more shalt thou discover for thyself. The learning ends not, but goes e'er onwards as thou may require for the doom thou hast yet to live. The days darken, aye, but still for a time, there is Light.
I shall tell thee too that there are many wonders in Middle Earth that lie beyond thy woodland home. Some shall assail thee, loathsome and abhorrent. Some shall bring thee joy. And some shall bring thee to thy knees in awe of what the Valar have wrought. Look about thee with care wheresoe'er thou may roam, young prince, for the world e'er changes even as it contrives the illusion of remaining the same, and many treasures lie hidden and unexpected. Perhaps even shalt thou partake of the deeds that define Arda's path, but know too that if such comes to pass, then indeed 'twas meant to be, for all that is was imagined by the One and created in the First Song.
Therefore, be well and true to thy heart. I would counsel thee to speak neither oft nor lightly of our meeting hither." For a moment, she held his eyes sternly, much as she had upon that first day when they had met, ere she continued with, "I bid thee farewell for now, Legolas Thranduilion, yet we shall meet again, I wager."
She had been standing before him in her cloak of mixed greens, her travel bag slung o'er her shoulder and her weapons girt about her. Legolas had blinked, preparing to speak a farewell, but then remained silent. The shadows about him had leaped apace as if Anor had skipped forward in a lurch, and it seemed that in one moment she was there and in the next moment gone. The forest about him stood empty and silent, as if a rent in it had swallowed her up. He turned in a slow circle, eyeing every trunk and every shadow. 'Twas not a motion, not a track; nay, not even the whisper of a sound that his Elvish ears could hear.
"Tricks of the Golodhrim," he muttered softly 'neath his breath.
Stealth Legolas knew after the fashion of his people. He knew not that far to the west lived still a remnant of distant kin so much more stealthy than his folk, that to them he would have been as a blundering mortal to his own eyes.
In those days of the Third Age, few in the Woodland Realm now recalled Ossiriand, the Land of Seven Rivers; the Land of Singers that had lain upon the forested slopes of East Beleriand 'til the close of the First Age of the Sun. Fewer still in this Age, even amongst the Eldar of Eriador, had e'er met one of the Laiquendi. But no other save their own folk had spent 'nigh on 4,100 years bound fëa to fëa with one of that kindred, and learnt their ways as her own.
Finally, he abandoned the fruitless search and concentrated upon his practice. Hard and long did he work to master what he had been taught, discovering yet more on his own through experience, and as the centuries passed, he did indeed become a masterful warrior, renowned tracker, truehearted friend, and noble ally. And only to a very few did Legolas e'er speak of his strange teacher.
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: If I remember correctly, the section of this chapter involving Helluin's meeting with Legolas was written about a decade ago, so please excuse any differences in style that escaped amendment during my editing.
Now before I receive any irate comments regarding Legolas, (sigh), I want to acknowledge that my representation of him here departs from the commonly held impression of him in fanon, and his depiction in (book) canon LotR. (He never appears in book canon The Hobbit). Please keep in mind that this chapter is set almost nine centuries before JRRT first introduces him to readers at the Council of Elrond in Imladris.
In this story, Prince Legolas was born in T.A. 1854. He is 209 years of age when he meets Helluin, (who is 50 times his age then and a true Calaquende, whilst he is half Sinda, half Silvan), and still relatively young for an Elf. JRRT never specifies his age, his mother's identity, or much detail about his life prior to his involvement with the Fellowship, so there has been ample space for creative latitude without disrupting canon.
As with my earlier depiction of Galadriel in the Second Age, I want to reassure readers that by the time Legolas is contemporary with his depiction by JRRT in LotR, I will strive to portray him as the canon character we are familiar with. Prior to that, I believe that he learned a lot, gained experience, and grew as a person, just as everyone does. In addition, he will be book canon more than movie canon Legolas.
Joseph Sage, hopeholditch, thanks for adding "In An Age Before" to your Favorites lists. I hope that you continue to enjoy the read.
Guest Thanks for reviewing. I'm trying to keep the schedule of updating on Fridays. It may slip from time to time; I'm only human. This week wasn't any trouble since the chapter was sort of 'pre-written' and waiting for years until the story caught up. Hope you'll continue enjoying the updates.