Chapter 6 – Sides of the Argument
There are two sides to every argument and I have learned that both can be right.
Valinor
Fourth Age
Eruanna began clearing away the pieces of the broken plate, careful not to cut her own hand on the sharp edges when a loud knock on the door drew her attention. She had no idea who it could be as they were not expecting company this evening.
"Come in," Eruanna called, loud enough for any elf to hear. She would have opened the door, as was proper, but her hands were occupied and propriety was the furthest thing from her mind.
A familiar face greeted Eruanna with a smile. "Good evening, Eruanna. Care to feed another hungry el…," Glorfindel's words faltered when he took in the expression on Eruanna's face. He drew closer to the table and saw pieces of broken tableware in her hand. In perfect Glorfindel fashion, he attempted to lighten the elleth's mood with a bit of laughter.
"Practicing your juggling skills, I see," he said with a smile.
The jest had no effect and Eruanna's expression remained unchanged. "Ada broke it," she explained as she placed another shard into the dustbin.
"What happened?" Glorfindel asked. It was not like Erestor to be so clumsy, and a broken plate was certainly no cause for tears.
Eruanna was not at all certain she should tell Glorfindel about her argument with her father. She might very well end up picking up more broken dinnerware. Then again, if anyone would be able to offer her advice, and perhaps a small sliver of understanding, it was Glorfindel.
"We argued," she said at last, "about Maglor. He shouted at me." Fresh tears poured down her cheeks at her admission.
Glorfindel sighed. He had seen this coming – ever since that incident on the ship. It had been all Glorfindel could do to keep Erestor's anger contained while he and Maglor shared the same space. And after so many years as her teacher and friend, Glorfindel had a feeling that Eruanna would seek Maglor out again, just as she had done on the ship.
Glorfindel's thoughts dwelt on the tale Erestor related to him of the kinslaying at Sirion. The great warrior shuddered at the thought. "His anger is not unjustified," he told her.
Eruanna nodded. "I know, I just…," she looked to Glorfindel for some small sign of understanding. "We have never quarreled like that before."
"A historic event," Glorfindel said with a gentle smile.
Eruanna shook her head and more tears fell from her now red and swollen eyes. "I never meant to hurt him," she cried.
Glorfindel caressed the top of Eruanna's head as she cried. "He knows, child," Glorfindel reassured her, "he knows."
When the fresh flood of tears subsided, Glorfindel offered her a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away her tears and took the seat to her right. "It is good to know that life in Middle Earth did not rob you of all of your innocence."
Eruanna found the ellon's statement to be a curious one. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"You have never seen the horrors others have witnessed," he replied, "never held a friend in your arms as he lay dying, never trod upon the bodies of elves and men as their blood stained the ground red."
Glorfindel studied Eruanna for a moment, waiting to see if his words sunk in before continuing. "Erestor has seen these things, Eruanna. He has spent millennia trying to forget, but the memories haunt him still. And now, each day, he wakes with the knowledge that one responsible for his torment lives and breathes beneath the same roof. For him to discover that you, whom he loves most in the world, would seek out the presence of his enemy… it is too much."
Eruanna looked away, ashamed now more than ever before. "Should I apologize for speaking to Maglor?" Eruanna asked quietly.
"That depends," Glorfindel replied.
"On what?" Eruanna asked.
"Are you sorry you spoke with him?" Glorfindel asked meaningfully.
"I …" Eruanna paused, not knowing how best to answer Glorfindel's question. She thought on her answer for some time before offering up a response. "I am sorry I hurt ada by speaking with Maglor, but I …," Eruanna took a deep breath in preparation for the words she was about to utter aloud. "I am not sorry I spoke with him."
Glorfindel nodded. "That is an honest answer," he said, looking thoughtfully upon Eruanna as he said so. "You should never apologize for actions you do not regret."
The ellon continued to study his young companion silently for some time. The ways of the half-elven had often been a mystery to him. He wished to ask her a question, but wondered if Eruanna, herself, knew the answer. "Will you tell me one thing?" he asked, and waited for Eruanna to nod her assent before continuing. "Why is it you seek out the company of an ellon whom every other elf in the city goes to great lengths to avoid?"
Eruanna was somewhat thrown by the question. Her father, too, had asked her 'why', but his questioning had been so pointed and angry that it had not elicited a sincere response. It was true she did pity the ellon whom all others ignored and had spoken with him partly to offer him company – but that had not been the whole reason. Eruanna tried to find a way to explain her reasons that Glorfindel might understand.
"When I was very young," Eruanna began, "perhaps no more than ten years of age, I found a bird upon the forest floor. It was injured and…it died." She paused there, recalling the sight of the poor creature quite clearly in her mind. "I knew what death was, for my grandfather explained it to me, but I did not know what would happen to the bird after death. So I sat there for two days watching it decay. I watched the maggots devour it from the inside out and the tiny creatures of the forest drag away its bones."
Eruanna locked eyes with Glorfindel as she finished her tale. "It was the most terrible thing I had ever witnessed," she told him, "but I could not look away. I had to know these things my grandfather never told me."
Eruanna saw understanding in Glorfindel's eyes.
"I have read every book in Elrond's library," she continued, "and not one has told me why Fëanor and his sons chose such a dark and bloody path, not one! They speak only of jewels and Oaths and not a single word of what dwelt in their hearts when they committed those crimes."
"Do you believe Maglor will tell you?" Glorfindel asked, curious.
Eruanna shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not," she replied.
The pair sat in silence for a moment, when Eruanna voiced a question that had troubled her for some time. "There are elves in this city that stood with the Fëanorions even after Sirion. Why do they not draw ada's anger as Maglor does?"
Glorfindel's brow furrowed in consideration of her question. "It may be easier for him to choose one ellon as a target for his rage, rather than divide it amongst many," he suggested. "Erestor needs someone to blame for his suffering, and Maglor is the only one of his brethren left alive."
Eruanna saw the sense in Glorfindel's words, but his mention of suffering drew from Eruanna another observation. "He suffers as well – Maglor, that is," she told her companion.
"I believe you," he replied.
Glorfindel did not know what else to do to help Eruanna and his friend through this difficult time. Always the teacher, he could not help but leave Eruanna with a lesson in caution. "I, too, have a story to share," Glorfindel said, "if you will indulge me?"
Eruanna merely nodded in reply.
"When I was a boy I found a dead wolf in the hills above Gondolin," Glorfindel began. "Its cub lay curled up beside it, seeking warmth. It was a very attractive animal and looked to be very young. I pitied the creature, and wished to care for it, as the youngster would surely have died if left on its own. I tried to pick it up, but did not see that its hind leg was injured. The cub – cornered and in pain – lashed out at me, biting at my arms and clawing the side of my face to escape."
Glorfindel fixed Eruanna with a pointed gaze before finishing. "I know you believe Maglor is not a danger, but you can not know that for sure."
Eruanna nodded at the wisdom of her teacher's words. She looked to him with curious eyes. "Do you believe him to be a danger?" she asked, wondering what the great Balrog Slayer might say.
Glorfindel did not answer right away. He made it a point never to lie to a student or a friend, but he knew with certainty that Erestor would not appreciate the answer he was about to give. "I think," he replied, "that the Valar would not have permitted his return if they thought him a threat to others."
Eruanna knew the answer before he spoke it. She had seen it in the ellon's eyes. Of course, it mattered little what Glorfindel thought of Maglor, as it was not likely to change Erestor's mind. She sighed. "How do I make this right, Glorfindel?" she asked him. "I have always listened to ada's wisdom in the past, but this time I fear his reason is clouded by hate."
"You are not wrong," he replied sadly. "And as for making it right … I have no advice to offer you. I can not say that Erestor will understand your desire to know Maglor, but I can tell you that if my friend is the ellon I believe him to be, he will not forsake you for that choice."
It was not the total reassurance Eruanna had hoped for, but the more she thought on Glorfindel's words the more sense they made. She had seen Elrond and her father argue on points of polity more times than she cared to remember, but the argument did not end their friendship. She could only hope that Glorfindel was right, and that her choice would not break their bonds of affection.
Irimë found Erestor on his private balcony where he stood staring out upon the city, his expression pained, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. She stood hesitantly on the threshold. This was uncharted territory for them both. For many months now Erestor and Irimë had danced cautiously around each other, each one fearful of taking a wrong step. They now shared a daughter, but Irimë was acutely aware that the ellon before her had the greater claim on Eruanna's heart. Erestor would forever remain Eruanna's 'true' parent, no matter how strong the bond between Irimë and her daughter grew. After all, Irimë might be her mother by blood, but no amount of time could rebuild what Irimë's death had lost her – Eruanna's childhood. Those years were filled with Erestor's love and guidance. What was more, her daughter had chosen Erestor as her father, and that fact, if nothing else, gave him greater power.
Irimë had learned much about Erestor and her daughter in the last year, and while she still had much left to discover, she knew with certainty that the scene she witnessed was not a common event. Eruanna had done more than speak to Maglor – she had hurt Erestor in such a profound and personal way, that Irimë could only scarcely understand it. All she had to go on were Erestor's words … butcher … Sirion … blood of my kin…. They were enough to give Irimë a glimpse of Erestor's past, a past she was not privy to, a past that was tearing him – and their daughter – apart.
Irimë had no speech prepared when she took that first step onto the balcony. She merely moved quietly to Erestor's side and reached out to take his hand. From a hidden pocket in her skirts she drew a handkerchief and wrapped the cut tightly to stem the flow of blood. When the wound was bound, she looked him in the eye.
"Are you always so harsh with her?" Irimë asked softly.
She might just as well have struck him, for her words made Erestor flinch. He shut his eyes tightly against them. It was a wordless answer, but spoke volumes of the pain in his heart.
Irimë sighed, and taking hold of Erestor's arm, rested her head against his shoulder in comfort. She, too, gazed upon the lamplit city, but her thoughts remained with Erestor and her daughter. It seemed strange to her that she should feel sympathetic to both sides of their argument. She understood Eruanna's desire to seek out the unknown, for she had the same desire when she strayed from the safety of Mirkwood's border. At the same time, she understood Erestor's anger at Eruanna for putting herself in danger, for spending time in the company of an ellon who had caused so much pain and death.
Irimë gave word to these many thoughts, hoping they might offer a small amount of comfort and understanding. "Eruanna has experienced much sorrow in her life … but of other things…," Irimë paused, trying to decide how much to share of her own pain with this ellon she barely knew. "There are horrors an elf may witness, may suffer, that mere words can not convey, and the innocent will never understand."
Erestor knew Irimë spoke from experience. Many times in the preceding months he had found himself wanting to ask Irimë about her death. He found he could not. Even now, dancing on the edge of the topic, he could not find the courage to ask.
"I know," he whispered, "and I am thankful for it."
Irimë understood, and said as much when next she spoke. "I understand that kind of pain, Erestor, the source of your anger, but Eruanna does not. She will never understand, not until you explain it to her, where it comes from and why you can not simply cast it aside."
"I can not," Erestor answered firmly.
"Even if it will help her understand?" Irimë asked. When she received only silence in answer she decided not to press. There was something in the ellon's expression that told her to try another route. "I do not know why she sought out Maglor, but I know whatever her reason, it was not to hurt you."
Erestor sighed. "I know that as well," he said, but something in his expression told her he was not done. There was something that troubled him, something he found difficult to put into words. "What I do not understand is why she would speak to him at all."
Erestor's frustration was clear in his voice and expression and Irimë could see in them the source of much of his anger. He did not understand in part because of his own experiences, in part, because he had not been listening to what Eruanna had said. His anger quieted for the time being, Irimë endeavored to remind him of Eruanna's words.
"She has already told you," Irimë replied. "She sees not a murderer when she looks at Maglor, but a broken, troubled soul. It was out of kindness and curiosity that she spoke with him. She did not see the harm in it."
Irimë waited for her words to sink in, before she added, "You have raised a sweet and compassionate elleth, Erestor. You should be proud."
Erestor shook his head in dismay. "Perhaps too compassionate," he grumbled.
"I know you do not believe that," Irimë chided, tugging gently on his sleeve as she did.
"I am not so sure," Erestor said with a sigh. He was so tired, wearied by the weight of the past and his own uncertainty of what lay ahead.
Irimë understood his concern, for she too worried for their daughter, but unlike Erestor, Irimë saw Eruanna as an elleth full grown. Irimë might not know Eruanna as well as Erestor did, but Irimë was certain of one thing – Eruanna was no fool. It was thanks to Erestor that she could trust in that fact.
Irimë lifted a hand to Erestor's cheek and brushed away a stray tear she saw there. The contact drew the ellon's gaze to her face. "You know, I thank the Valar every day Eruanna had you to love and guide her," she told him. It was a too long withheld confession. "You have taught her well. Can you not trust her, now, to choose her own path, though it may differ from your own?"
Erestor's eyes darkened for a moment as he studied Irimë's face. In the moonlight she looked so like Eruanna, it was as if his daughter had made the request. "Do you think she is right?" he asked her.
Irimë took a deep breath before replying. The truth was she did not know the answer, but she responded to Erestor's query as honestly as she could. "I am not the same elleth who died in Mirkwood but a few centuries ago. I would wager that Maglor, who roamed the world alone for millennia, has changed as well."
Erestor choked on her words. "So you are saying I should forgive him?" he asked harshly.
"No," was her firm reply, "what I am saying is that Maglor may indeed be the changed ellon Eruanna thinks he is, but that, alone, will not absolve him of his crimes. This, at least, is something Eruanna may be made to understand."
"You are making too much sense," Erestor grumbled. He did not want to hear reason, but Irime's logic was difficult to ignore.
"It is a curse," she told him with a smile, and she watched a corner of his mouth twitch upward in response.
Searching for some way to help Erestor deal with the reality of the situation with Maglor and Eruanna, a thought occurred to Irimë which she shared aloud. "We have been invited to Alqualondë by Celebrían and her mothers, Eruanna and I."
"Alqualondë?" he asked. There was a hint of fear in his voice, as if he might lose Eruanna forever should she go.
"It will only be for a season or two, of course," Irimë added quickly. She was not deaf to the sound of upset in his voice. "She was planning on asking you for leave to go and I thought perhaps some time away from Tirion would do her good."
"Perhaps," Erestor answered hesitantly, not at all certain it would be a wise choice.
"You should speak with her of your argument first, of course," Irimë added, "lest she think you send her away. It will give you time as well, to settle into Tirion."
Erestor was smart enough to divine what Irimë left unspoken – a visit to Alqualondë would also keep Eruanna away from Maglor for the time being, until Erestor decided what to do about him. "I will speak with her about visiting with Celebrían's kin," he said at last.
"And about Maglor?" Irimë asked.
Erestor looked away, unable to meet the elleth's eyes when he answered, "We will see."
