Chapter Thirty - Not Every Wound Leaves A Visible Scar
Dídauar remained in Lothlórien for another two weeks. This meant that she missed Aragorn's coronation, something that the elder twin was a little miffed about, and the council were quite vocal in their dissatisfaction, but she promised to be for his wedding. Word had been sent to Lothlórien that Arwen and Elrond had set out from Rivendell on the first of May and that they planned to arrive in Lothlórien later that month. With each day Haldir made steady progress in his recovery, though he still tired quickly and his muscles were frustratingly weakened by malnourishment and the weeks he spent abed. Unfortunately his mental recovery was not as speedy as his physical one. He refused to let Dídauar out of his sight and if she did have to leave – it wasn't really practical for her to stay in the warden's talen for the entire duration of her stay and with her there, Rúmil received very little of Haldir's attention – he insisted on knowing where she went. Elladan and Elrohir lingered to monitor Haldir's physical condition, not that they didn't trust their Grandmother's healers but they just felt more comfortable seeing his progress first hand. Haldir, who never had much time for healers, was as ingratiating with them as he was with his own people so the Lothlórien healers were more than happy to hand over the responsibility to the twins, however temporary. The twins also made sure that Rúmil was beginning to recover from the shock he had suffered, both from the close call he had had with Haldir and the slaughter of his spirit-twin. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that they could do other than make sure he didn't start to fade. Haldir was the one who had the biggest task in healing the younger Warden.
Come mid May however, Dídauar felt the need to return to her people. It was also then that the full realisation that ten of those she had called her people, along with Orophin, Théoden, Théodred, Háma, Boromir and Denethor, were dead and it hit her harder than even she expected. Realising that her depressed mood would only delay the recovery of both Rúmil and Haldir, Dídauar made her excuses and fled to elsewhere in the woods.
"I am going to kill her!" exclaimed Haldir when he learnt from the sentries that Dídauar had not returned to City at nightfall.
"And then this whole cycle will start again and we will lose you this time," said Rúmil, pushing Haldir back into his seat.
"The war might be won but the Woods are not safe!" exclaimed Haldir. Rúmil knelt before his brother and cupped his face.
"Haldir, you are panicking. Kalya is not the eight-year-old she was the first time she was in these woods, she is a very capable warrior and never lets her guard low enough that she is taken completely by surprise. Elrohir has not come charging in here in some mad panic either so it is safe to assume that she is still alive and other than the fact she is finally grieving for those she has lost, is in no other danger."
"Why can she not come to me?" asked Haldir, looking pleadingly at Rúmil. "What did I do that she feels she cannot ask me for support?"
"What did the twins do, what did Celeborn or Galadriel do, what have any of us done that she feels she cannot come to us?" expanded Rúmil. "We loved her Haldir. We encouraged her to follow the path her heart was telling her to take rather than accept the position that her people were pestering her to fill. She did Haldir, she became that warrior, and a hero to many people, whether she meant to or not. But how many children's stories have you heard where the hero breaks down? When is it told that the hero is just like the rest of us when it comes to emotions? How many heroes are said to have grieved for others, including the ones they slay?"
"What's your point Rúmil?" demanded Haldir.
"The answer is none, Haldir. Never once has a hero been portrayed as anything but a messenger from the Gods or an avenging angel, ready to do battle in the name of the light. When I first saw Glorfindel do anything other than his duty and make merry, I was at a complete loss as to what to do. So was everyone else around us, except Erestor. Even Lord Elrond was confused. There are very few who know how to deal with a broken hero. Kalya cannot turn to any of the men because they know her reputation but not her and will cause more harm than good, she will not turn to us because you are still healing. Her grief is a little to personal for her to take to the Lady and as a result she will not go to Celeborn either. The twins? They aren't exactly fonts of wisdom on this subject. Their way of coping with loss or grief has never been to simply curl up into a corner, shut out the world and weep, it was always lash out at the nearest person or thing and damn the consequences."
"So how are we to help her?" asked Haldir. "The trees will hide her, they've done it before."
"A child in distress will seek a mother's comfort," said Rúmil. Haldir canted his head. Gilraen had been dead for nearly twenty years and her memorial stone was on the other side of the mountains. Neither the sentries nor the trees had reported Dídauar crossing the border, or even seeking them, so the elder Warden was fairly convinced that Dídauar was not seeking out the late Lady of the Dúnedain.
"Who…….Celebrían? But why? And how?"
"The same way you seek out our mother," replied Rúmil. "And Celebrían is wife to Lord Elrond, who Kalya sees as a father, why should she not seek a mother's succour in Celebrían's embrace?"
"Because she never knew her!" exclaimed Haldir.
"Which is what Kalya needs," said Elrohir quietly as he arrived with Celeborn. "Someone to speak to who does not know her and is therefore unable to hold her to account."
"We will not judge her!" exclaimed Haldir. Elrohir looked at him sadly.
"We do," he said. "We may look at the sister and Charge. We may hold the daughter, but we speak to the warrior and accidental hero. It is not physical contact she desires, it is spiritual release."
"I can't just sit here!" protested Haldir. Elrohir canted his head towards Celeborn who in turn looked at Haldir, almost like he was considering a vase at a market stall. Haldir shifted a little under the scrutiny but held his Lord's gaze.
"He is strong enough to try," said Elrohir softly.
"Try what?" asked Rúmil sharply.
"Opening his bond with Kalya," said Celeborn. "It is also strong enough."
"What?" Haldir looked a little confused, which was not an expression often found on the warden's face.
"I will find Elladan," said Elrohir before ducking back out the room while Celeborn stepped up to Haldir and pulled him to his feet. Haldir wavered a little and held on to Celeborn's shoulders with both hands as his body protested at the sharp movements.
"Celeborn what are you talking about? I can't open my bond with Kalya, it's not formed like that!" protested Haldir.
"It is, but as most are formed between two Elves it is an effortless task to open the bond. Between an Elf and Human however, a little more effort needs to be exerted," replied Celeborn.
"Why was I not told this before?"
"No need. The last time Kalya needed this release, you were already at her side," said Celeborn. "You were healthy and Kalya was subconsciously seeking comfort from you. This time however, you are not as strong and Kalya is retreating so you can heal. She will not come to you this way."
"And Elladan?"
"Has more experience opening the bond between mortal and Elf. He will be better able to guide you," replied Celeborn as he helped Haldir sit on the floor of the talen.
"Isn't this a little contradictory to what Elrohir just said about Kalya's needs?" asked Rúmil. Celeborn smiled over at the younger Elf as the twins reappeared.
"His spirit has no choice but to approach as her Guardian rather than Lothlórien's March-Warden," said the Elf Lord. "Love will always dominate duty in his heart and soul."
Dídauar sat in the middle of a glade which was blooming with flowers of practically every colour imaginable. When the twins were sixteen, Elrond had taken them both to the glade in order to teach them about the varying plants that grew there, some of which were medicinal, some which could be used in the diet, other which were toxic if ingested and others which only of an aesthetic value. She sat creating a daisy chain, sporadically introducing a bluebell or a dandelion, smiling slightly as she remembered Lindir and Melpomaen teaching her the skill, the pair being the only ones who could actually get her to sit still long enough to split the stem, thread through the stem of another and start the whole thing again. When she was about four, her mother had woven some of the chains, along with some stalks of late shorn barley through her hair for the harvest festival. The young Estel had found it hilarious that his twin, who was so boisterous and as unladylike as you could possibly get, even when compared to their mother, was dressed up the a lady of the court but then he had had the unfortunate luck of finding out exactly how useful wearing a dress was, namely hiding one's feet as they trod on those belong to another. Tears began to fill her eyes as she remembered Théoden receiving the same treatment from his younger sisters. Théodwyn had been particularly sneaky, so much so that Thengel had been convinced his Captain was the one who had taught his youngest daughter the trick. Théoden wasn't so much interested with the who, more as to how he avoid the treatment!
Now that the first memory had been allowed to slip through the strong barrier Dídauar was keeping around her heart and mind, others started to trickle through until the trickles became a deluge, and the tears that Dídauar had been holding back for what seemed like weeks streamed down her face, her body heaving with each sob. Memories of Boromir, Théodred, Halbarad and Orophin assaulted her the strongest and guilt and anger twisted with grief. She had foreseen the deaths of the three mortals and yet the Valar had only being taunting her. There was no way she could have saved any of them, even if she was at their side. All three were honourable, loyal and dedicated warriors. The result was they were incredible stubborn and their own safety took second place to that of others, not even the Valar had been able to change that. And Orophin? He was an Elf, he shouldn't have been at the battle of Helms' Deep in the first place, much less have lain down his life for the people of Rohan who would forget him. Not intentionally, they had lost so many, including their King and Prince, Orophin was just another causality of war whose name would soon be lost to the sands of time.
There is much hurt here little one, whispered a voice as a gentle breeze tossed loose strands of her hair. Dídauar stiffened, her tears seeming to dry almost immediately at being caught in such a compromised position and her emotional guards raised once more.
"Who's there?" she demanded, looking around her and her hand reaching for the solitary blade she had brought with her. "Show yourself!"
I have no form in your world, at least none that you can perceive, replied the voice. I mean you no harm little one, I seek only to heal your pain.
"Unless you can return those that the Valar have stolen, you cannot help me," replied Dídauar. "Leave me to my grief and my memories."
You sought me little one, said the voice gently. And the Valar to not take unless it is deemed in song of Ilúvatar. You are a perfect example of that.
"Then why did they show me? Why did they taunt me with images of those they have stolen, giving me hope that their future could be changed yet leave me powerless to help?" demanded Dídauar. "What exactly did I do wrong to have my family stolen from me piece by piece but be offered no peace in return? I should have died at Pelennor but instead Námo sent me back so that I can watch my cousins and my friends suffer with pain that I was supposedly given the opportunity to prevent."
You hide behind anger, said the voice and Dídauar was convinced that it was more than the wind that was playing with her hair. But that will fester little one. You have seen what that does, felt what that it like. It did not help you after your champion was killed and it will not help you now.
"Why was I shown!?" demanded Dídauar.
Because there was a chance that they could have been saved, but you were dealing with warriors who gladly gave their last breath to protect the weak. Halbarad told you this, your young Steward and the King of Rohan would tell you the same, as would the fallen Prince. The Captain-General told you he knew his fate when he left the protection of this Wood yet still he set forth. You carried out the task that the Valar intended and even now they are within the Eternal Halls, waiting patiently for their loved ones to arrive as are your family in this world, explained the voice, never once raising in insult or anger at the slight upon the Valar. Dídauar tucked herself into a ball, knees clasped firmly to her chest as she began rocking in a gesture meant for personal comfort, tears pricking the backs of her eyes.
Your champion saw two people in his dream, Aurél, whispered the voice speaking the name that would soon be crossing the lips of the Gondorians, spoken with reverence and pride, while the wind danced across Dídauar's cheeks and catching the tears that had started to flow.
"Please," whispered Dídauar, burying her face in her arms and her shoulder's began shaking in earnest.
She is ready, my son, whispered Celebrían as her voice faded from Dídauar's range of hearing. Pressing a kiss to the Dúnadan's crown, she let her place be taken by two figures. One of raven and hazel-green, the other of silver and violet-blue. Take care of her.
Minas Tirith
Aragorn was restless. In celebration of the return of Gondor's King after so many centuries, the nobles found more than enough reason to celebrate, even if the people could barely afford it yet even they were seldom seen without a smile. But, even as his people celebrated and looked forward to the next sunrise with joyful anticipation rather than fear, Aragorn could not find it in himself to join in their cheer, and took up his twin's habit of pacing the battlements come dusk and dawn, gaze always turned to the west.
"You are going to wear that shelf away, my friend," said Legolas as he approached the man. Aragorn stalled mid stride and turned to face the Elf, who canted his head.
"What is wrong?" asked Legolas, coming to a halt as well.
"Something is wrong with Kalya," said Aragorn. Legolas continued to regard Aragorn with question.
"She's in Lórien is she not? Gildor mentioned something about returning there in the coming days," said Legolas.
"She still isn't healed," said Aragorn. "Yes she has grieved, prayed for the souls of the dead, but she is keeping the wound open and refusing to let it heal."
"How can you tell?" asked Legolas. "You've never spoken of having a similar connection as the Lord Elrond's sons."
"Because we don't," replied Aragorn. "The one they have is a lot deeper than the one we share. But I do know that she is in pain."
"And you are feeling helpless," surmised Legolas. "You know, being King does not stop you riding out. Your Steward and the Prince of Dol Amroth are more than capable of handling the situation here while you go to Lothlórien."
"This soon after being crowned?" snorted Aragorn. "Can you image the reaction that would receive from the people? I would like for them to respect me and my family not debate when we are next taking flight!"
"They will be asking that about your sister anyway, but that does not mean they will show her any less respect," replied Legolas.
"Why are we all so convinced that she will not stay? Even my heart is telling me that we will part," said Aragorn.
"Because she is like the eagles," replied Legolas. "They will settle for a time but as soon as the winds are suitable, they take wing again. Dídauar is a gypsy Princess, suited for the wild open plains and the forests of this world, not a daughter of State for whom the walls of stone and mortar were built. Honestly, you would be better as her gypsy Prince but unlike her, your soul can find rest with the towers and halls of the world of men."
"Legolas! People already speak of Kalya and myself have a 'close to scandalous' relationship, comments like that are not going to help!" protested Aragorn, though a small smile was creeping on to his features.
"I'm sure your Guardian would have found a far more scandalous way of describing the situation," chuckled Legolas.
"I'm sure he would, and Kalya would play up to it," said Aragorn, his smile becoming more pronounced.
"You would be worried if she didn't," replied Legolas.
"True, her smile and laughter have been sorely missed, and not just by me," said Aragorn, casting another glance up to the star strewn sky.
"Her star still shines Aragorn. For you and for me," said Legolas, resting a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "But the people will forgive you if your heart needs the confirmation of your eyes. Dídauar was part of your life long before many of them were even born."