Chapter 18 - Broken Paths
Elrond cuffed the oversize sleeve of his velvet cloak over his hand as he knelt in front of the young Elf before him; using his fingers to gently prompt her chin up, meeting her wary gaze with determined inquisition. He investigated the color of her eyes, the freckles outlining the bridge of her nose and cheeks, realizing this was indeed the child once placed in his arms over five centuries ago; yet she was also not the same. Her eyes once full of youthful glow now betrayed a twisted and dark past, while the missing tip of her ear symbolized her fall from grace. Likewise, Vezely inspected his wizened face; seeing in his age lines the wisdom of time, and in his grey orbs the remnants of many futures he had seen come to pass. Though his gaze was stern, she could perceive he held a gentle heart, and one currently troubled; though she knew not whether such pain went beyond the commonality of all who were alive in these dark times, or if they were of a more personal matter.
"Nwalmaer (tormented one)," he addressed her solidly in Elvish, his voice commanding but gentle, "It is what I named you for such a tragedy to befall our kind is uncommon. Yet that was not your name when first we met," he stated a moment later, prompting her to stand with a gentle prodding of her forearm.
Not fond of the title she was given or to be told of another estranged name, especially when there was other information she desired to know, led Vezely to respond somewhat brazenly, "But I stand before you ill-suited for either."
He held his head high, narrowing his eyes on hers after having further taken in her unconventional appearance. He sensed her unease and knew he would need to consider his words carefully before speaking them. He conceded with raised eyebrow, "You have questions."
"And you have answers," she responded quickly, and then slightly mitigating her forthright stance, knowing she was being impolite, "I do not want to appear ungrateful, for undoubtedly I am for I would not be alive without your aid, but I do question your reasoning in saving me from Dol Guldur."
After a moment he stated knowingly, "You question whether you are worthy of redemption."
Her eyes shifted away from him, considering her words as he was considering his. Returning a serious gaze, she spoke solidly, "I am not Nwalmaer, but one who tormented others. I may have been Sauron's pawn, taken for his needs, but I also willingly submitted to his will, and took pleasure fulfilling his purpose. Present remorse aside, offering me a second chance, a path to redemption for shared bloodline alone...such favor may have been misplaced."
Elrond noted the emotions circulating behind her words. He sensed her continued uncertainty of place and position in this world, one he hoped further information could stabilize. He stated, "Your father asked me to protect you," getting straight to the reason for his aid.
"My father?" Vez inquired, her eyes wavering, "You are aware I have no memories from before I was taken."
He had known this, for the Blue Wizard had sent him correspondences on her recovery. "Sauron repressed them. For such memories of your parent's love and your true homeland would have inevitably driven you from his grasp long ago," he explained, also knowing though not mentioning that Sauron continued to hold some power over her psyche - the reason why these memories did not return and her scars would not heal. He then provided further details of her birth parents, "Eluréd, son of Dior and Nimloth, he was your father. He survived his abandonment as a child, but his twin, Elurín, did not. The torment of losing his brother led him into desired exile, and he lived his life under an alias in the Woodland Realm. Even his sister, Elwing, did not know. His lingering uncertainty of life on these shores was however, mended by the love of your mother, a Woodland Elf by the name of Rovian. They lived what seemed like a blissful existence, even though Eluréd feared what he perceived as the curse of his bloodline. This fear grew even more cogent when you were conceived. He desired nothing more than to sail to the Utter West, but Rovian was not yet prepared to leave her homeland and desired to wait until after you were born; until you had experienced life in their homeland so such memories could also be yours in Valinor..."
Vezely's eyes showed her uneasiness at this information, knowing that her parent's decision to wait on these shores ended in their murder by invading Orcs. Such a history prompted her to conceive that her bloodline was truly cursed.
He continued steadily, "...His fears and visions prompted him to relinquish his anonymity and contact me. I promised, as I held you in my arms, to protect you if anything should happen...It was not suspected that you survived the Orc attack that took your parent's life until your armies descended on the Wold. It was then confirmed when you entered Northern Mirkwood."
"And yet King Thranduil released me?" Vez considered out loud, appearing to bypass acknowledgment of her parent's care for her, for they still felt distanced from her current life. Instead, she interrogated Elrond on this incident, "For he knew, as you did."
Elrond was undeterred by her bold curiosity, "You could not simply be broken from Sauron's grasp. Such detachment would need to be of your own making. It was your imprisonment in Dol Guldur that proved to the White Council that you had forged your own path away from Sauron's will; that you were not beyond redemption."
Vezely was strained in contemplation; she closed her eyes, trying to quell her mixed emotions, "It is hard to see my imprisonment as worthy of such esteemed consideration by your council, for it does not account for the terrible things I have done. And my disobedience to Sauron, if you can even consider it such, was falsely magnified by the whispers of my second in command, who desired my position and power."
"And yet here you are professing humility in the face of it, and remorse upon reflection," Elrond responded profoundly. "Even the smallest seed can grow. Despite your uncertainty, you are on the right path."
She kept her strained eyes from his. He was a sage whose blood she truly shared, but whose wisdom she obviously did not. She shook her head slightly in disbelief, though no words could be found, as she thought of her insignificance in questioning his knowledge. She tried to hold her tongue and still her thoughts of disagreement.
Having his own inquiry, Elrond asked boldly, "Now I have a question for you," which caused her eyes to quickly turn to his, "You survived the dungeons of Dol Guldur without falling into despair or madness; how is this so?" For he thought of his wife, Celebrian, who was captured and tormented by Orcs, thereafter suffering an emotional wound that would not heal, therefore prompting her to sail into the Utter West.
She straightened her posture, gaining some pride from what she considered her reason for survival, "Sauron thought as you did, that I would be destroyed in my cell; that I would succumb to what he deemed as the emotional weakness of my blood. But he woefully underestimated the influence of whose hands he placed me. I was raised a Balchoth. To die without a sword in my hand, in the cage of your enemy, is to fail at all your desires in life."
He seemed slightly surprised, for it seemed incomprehensible that her adopted culture that turned her into a ruthless killer also saved her. "I sense you now stand as two sides of the same coin and yet you remain unsure of how to be one."
"And my struggle with reconciliation will remain incomplete," she replied solidly. "I do not know the main purpose of your journey to Dunharrow, but unless you brought with you a substantial army, Rohan does not have enough men to win this fight. You know this as well as I."
His eyes narrowed on hers; surprised she had already admitted defeat even without knowing as he did of the Corsairs ships sailing towards Gondor. He decided to provide her insight as to his journey, "There is an army yet to be summoned and one who could summon it. I bring information and hope that it will be done," he then added encouragingly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Stay your path as others forge theirs."
She discerned this information had the possibility of altering this war's trajectory, while also suspecting her path would now truly be set apart from Legolas's, making her heart ache. Instead of questioning him further, she nodded in solidarity, "I will remain grateful to you for allowing me to be on such a path, wherever it leads."
Accepting her gratitude with a small smile, he looked one last time at her eyes. Perhaps, he thought, the light of the Eldar had not yet abandoned her. The thought of his daughter Arwen crossed his mind and the pain of her decision to be mortal hit his heart. But knowing his time was short, he did not let his thoughts or eyes linger and made his leave, providing comfort in his final words, "I have brought you armor. Wear it with the pride of your blood, as you fight with the strength of your culture."
Her eyes showed surprise not only at the gift, but also for his words. She bowed her head humbly, not knowing how else to express thanks.
Legolas patiently waited by Gimli until Elrond finished his conversation with Vezely, hoping she would learn more about her past than he could provide her before. Gimli remained asleep in his chair, snoring in his usual manner. Legolas did not wish to stir him, hoping to give his friend as much rest as possible before they would depart. He would soon lead Elrond to King Theodon's tent, knowing not to pry on the previous conversation, despite his own curiosity.
"Your father is proud of you, Legolas," Elrond spoke along their way, referring to Legolas's initiative to join the fellowship, "As are your people."
Humbled by such announcement, Legolas responded gratefully, "If only I could be in both places at once, for I know war now marches on my homeland."
"Cloud not your thoughts with uncertainty of your current path," he said encouragingly. "There is still hope for this world whose shores we must all inevitably leave."
Legolas bowed his head as Elrond entered King Theodon's tent, gaining some peace from the elder's words. Knowing he was short on time, he returned quickly to the tent where Vez remained, finding the young Elf outside kneeling on the ground, inspecting the silver armor given to her by her kin. She had not worn armor since her days as a general, and even then, her Easterling armor, though highly sophisticated, did not match the craftsmanship of what she now inspected before her. It was strong, expertly crafted, and surprisingly lightweight. The metal was layered in thin sheets to allow for ease of movement, and it appeared to have been fitted for her frame. She was staring blankly down at the helmet in her lap, appearing to inspect its exterior though in reality she was deep in contemplation of the prior conversation - she was uncertain whether to simply accept the wisdom of her kin and have hope, especially when she'd be separated from the one who helped her hold onto it. She heard Legolas approaching and turned her head towards him, meeting his fair eyes with equal bittersweet acknowledgement; their time together was near its end. She spoke to him softly in Elvish, hoping to not alert others to their personal conversation. "Our paths diverge," she confirmed, stating the words neither of them desired to hear.
He offered her his hand and she placed the helmet on the ground next to her before taking it, using it to lightly position herself in front of him, though she did not release it once there.
"I must go with Aragorn," he said with conviction in front of her, his eyes not fully hiding his sorrow over leaving her.
"And I must stay with Rohan," she replied with equal certainty, though her eyes were full of unease.
"But we will meet again," Legolas stated, his strong gaze inquiring her to believe him, for he still worried of her wavering uncertainty. As if seeking reassurance, he added, "For our destination will always be the same."
Slight optimism in the form of a small smile graced Vezely's face, "I will do what I have to in order to be at your side again," she replied solidly, her demeanor and words displaying the little hope she held onto. She at least wanted to let him know that it was her desired destination as well.
Grateful for her acknowledgement of this, a moment later he added in all too common tone taken between them, "Don't be too reckless;" his smooth sarcasm being an attempt at levity.
His words amused her enough to crack her melancholy demeanor; she retorted slyly with one eyebrow raised, "At least I have proper armor now," for he had posed concern for its absence prior to the battle at Helm's Deep.
A wide smile grew across his face, realizing he had similar worries for her back then as he did now, even if he knew she could handle fighting without armor. The way his smile lit up his face was infectious, causing Vezely's own lips to mirror his. Seeing her so prompted Legolas to look upon her with eyes knowing it would be some time before he could do so again. He roamed the freckles lining the bridge of her nose and cheeks, the motley colors encircling the black pupils of her eyes, the softness of her lips, hoping to remember these finer details when they were apart.
Vez noted his investigation and how soft his eyes felt on her, realizing that she did not mind being observed as such by him. But as he did this, she saw a glimmer of sorrow behind his gaze, as if he was questioning as she had whether they would see each other again. She brought her hands to sides of his face, turning his eyes to center on hers, "We will meet again on the battlefield," she asserted trying to believe it herself, and desiring to give him the reassurance she also needed, "And we will fight by each others side and stand together in the sun of victory."
Legolas saw the same intensity she had in her eyes prior to the battle of Helm's Deep; a return of her battle-ready optimism, bred into her from her adopted culture. The odds did not matter. Such certainty had calmed him prior to that battle, as it calmed him now.
She then, as before, added her clan's words, the meaning of the ink markings down her spine, "Strength in time of darkness, courage in time of fear, death to those who oppose you."
"And not your own," he added as he had before, as an appreciative smile graced his lips.
"Not your own," she replied with a similar tone, feeling as he did the warmth of this recent nostalgia. She lightly ran her fingers from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, causing him to close his eyes in the pleasure of her light touch. She considered momentarily to press her lips against his, but forewent her desire, knowing perhaps she had been too bold in doing so before. Instead her eyes graced the features of his face, noting how the moonlight reflected on his pale skin, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, his long black eyelashes, doing what he did just prior, but feeling as if she may not see him again. He reopened his eyes to hers, finding in them a similar longing to not forget. Suddenly, he engaged his own impulse and embraced her, pulling her body into his, and kissing her gently. She was taken aback by his action at first, not expecting he would take the initiative, but she easily reciprocated, running her fingertips over his ears into his soft hair, clasping her hands behind his neck, and giving him reign over her body with his embrace.
Mere seconds later, an interruption came in the form of a gruff "hmmph," for Gimli had unknowingly encroached upon their intimate space.
Their bittersweet kiss came to a halt; their lips parted and they opened their eyes, while Vez quickly moved her hands to his shoulders and he moved his from her upper back to around her waist. They smiled at each other slightly embarrassed by being discovered, before looking upon Gimli who attempted to act normal for he knew of their secret romance for some time.
"We should probably go lad," Gimli spoke apologetically, having heard Aragorn saddling up and gauging his purpose to leave before the dawn.
Legolas nodded to his friend, before looking at Vezely as they were both starting to release their embrace. Holding his one hand firmly, her eyes displayed to him the same confidence she had prior their kiss to let him know she held onto some hope that they would see each other again. He gave her a similar look of confidence before moving from her side to grab his gear; their hands releasing only when his steps took him too far away.
"Until we meet again lass," Gimli said as farewell to her.
Vez looked upon him kindly, hoping it would be so, and then saying determined, "And if it is on the battlefield, I will try to save some Orcs for you."
He chuckled at a comment he would have made, before also turning away from her with a hopeful smile. Legolas turn his gaze upon her one last time before moving to where their horse was tethered. Their eyes met and exchanged a final reassurance of their commitment to their shared destination.
As the three travelers left the camp, riding on horseback towards the Dimholt Road, a gathering of Rohan's soldiers started querying, worriedly, as to why the group was departing. Vezely, arms crossed and in contemplation, watched the three riders from afar, overhearing the conversation taking place.
"Why does he leave on the eve of battle?" One soldier asked concerned.
Gamling, who held highest rank among them, replied disturbed, "He leaves because there is no hope."
Theodon had joined them from the side, the same concern in his eyes, not for Aragorn's departure, but for his men's feeling of despair. "He leaves because he must," he stated forthrightly, knowing the truth.
Gamling, suspecting as others that their troop numbers were too low since not many more men arrived that night, replied carefully, "Too few have come. We cannot defeat the armies of Mordor."
Theoden knew this as well, "No, we cannot," he looked at several of his men momentarily, then gaining strength in his eyes, he added proudly, "But we will meet them in battle nonetheless."
Vezely noted the king's confidence, the intensity in his eyes, the assurance in his voice; he was prepared to lead his men against whatever odds, to serve as their steadfast leader, and to not turn away in despair. They needed a role model, a leader, and his current stance provided it. As he left his men, he passed near her, stopping momentarily and engaging his eyes briefly with hers, "We will hold council before we depart."
Vez nodded in deference to his request, knowing now with her companions gone, she was truly at the mercy of the king's demands. She would return to the tent to gather her belongings, finding Merry standing outside slightly unsure of his bearings, having been left behind as a lone member of the fellowship, and feeling somewhat discarded.
Vez approached him with a commiserating smile, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You are not alone, Merry," and then adding encouragingly, "We should pack up, it is nearly dawn."
Merry appreciated her acknowledgment of his predicament and having a task to complete helped move each of them past the uneasiness of their comrades' departure. Vez retrieved her rucksack from inside the tent, and transferred her blasting powder spheres into her saddle bag, realizing while sifting through her other items, that none of them needed to make the journey into battle - the empty tea tin, the broken brush and dried inkwell, even her memory book and maps. Holding her memory book in her hands, she felt its familiar weight, noted the spots where its cover was most worn, and she ran her fingers over where its binding was becoming unhinged. She thought of the personal stories she wrote on its pages and how when they first flooded back into her mind after captivity, they had not made sense or connected in any fluid manner. No longer did she need to remember the past via written word, for her mind had recovered and the pieces all fit together again. Without a moment more of hesitation, she let the book slide from her hands into the flames of the fire pit below, which graciously enveloped it as needed fuel, turning the tattered paper into cinders and ash. She watched it burn as if observing an experiment, not seeing such a act as symbolic of moving on or letting go of her past. No, her past was not to be forgotten; it should not be. Instead, she thought longingly of the memories the book and her mind did not contain - those of her childhood in Mirkwood, of the parents that bore her, and the love they must have given her before their deaths. She wondered why these memories continued to elude her.
Only a mirror and a charcoal pencil would be salvaged from her belongings, stashed in her rucksack's front pocket, and soon to be used in ritual preparation for battle. She would line her eyes as an Easterling, but wear the armor of her Elvish kin, embracing both her sides while fighting against the armies of the One who divided her.
Before dawn broke, Vez would find Eowyn standing in contemplation of the morning's events. She was staring down on the camp below from the cliff's face, weary and hesitant of her current position - unsure whether to break in the direction of her desires or return to Edoras as was her requested duty.
Vez noted her delicate condition, suspecting more then this choice hung over her head, though not fully knowing that the sting of unrequited love still lingered in her. "I know not the words of comfort to offer you," Vez stated truthfully, but kindly while at her side, also looking at the camp down below, which started to stir with the creeping sunlight.
"They need not be said," Eowyn replied gaining some self-assurance now knowing her female companion did not depart with the others. She added steadily, "I have made my decision." This caused Vez to turn to her in anticipation. "I will fight in this war."
To aid her, Vez usurped armor and clothing from empty tents nearby, for Eowyn would need to be disguised as just another one of Rohan's soldiers. Handing her these items, the two women exchanged a look of confidence of the paths set before them. "I will not speak to you again," Vez told her, knowing doing so would alert others of her presence and run the risk of sending her away. She then added with a small smile, her hand on her forearm, saying words she shared with her once before, "Remember, it's a man's world, not because it should be, but because we let them have it."
Eowyn smiled kindly at the woman warrior, nodding to agree, and feeling grateful for her continued validation of her cause. She then added as her farewell, "I hope we will meet again."
"So do I," Vez replied optimistically before leaving Eowyn to her transformation. She knew the shield maiden's courage would not waver and sensed she would do great things on the battlefield.
Now dressed in elvish armor and with her eyes lined in charcoal, Vezely headed to King Theodon's tent to hold council before they would all ride to Gondor, and likely to their deaths.