Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1
Chapter 8: Those Things Most Valued
"No, Haldir. I will not be sent away. You can't do this."
Haldir looked down at where his brother lay, shifting his battered body in agitation, meaning to sit up. He pursed his lips in frustration and kneeled. "Sit still, Orophin." Orophin's anger lent surprising strength to the younger elf and he threw Haldir back. But, he dropped back again, panting in exhaustion, betrayed by his weakened body. His eyes, however, had lost none of their fire as he sent Haldir an angry glare. "I won't go."
Haldir sighed deeply and knelt beside Orophin. "I know you wish to keep fighting. But, I have something much more important for you to do for me. Listen to me," he ordered, and Orophin's eyes shot to his, grudgingly focusing on his brother's face. Haldir's voice softened as he said, "I need you to help Silraen. She trusts you, and there will be many dangers on your road. Take care of her for me. Especially if...if it turns badly for us, if I cannot return to her..."
"Don't say things like that," Orophin growled, looking away.
"We must face these possibilities, Orophin. If I do not come back, I would ask that you watch over Silraen and the children for me. Will you do this?"
"Of course I will." Orophin mumbled.
Haldir nodded in relief, "Thank you," he said simply.
Haldir looked up as a familiar voice reached his ears. "I need three horses and full tack for all of them, and if that means one of my husband's commanders has to walk into battle like everyone else, that is just too bad."
Orophin smiled, "I don't know if you have to worry about anyone taking care of your wife for you. She sounds like she does all right on her own."
Haldir took a deep breath, avoiding Orophin's laughing green eyes. He rose, following the sound of arguing to its source. Silraen and the stable master were debating the division of horses between those who would stay and those who would go, and it would appear the stable master was losing.
"Is everything all right?" Haldir asked, approaching them carefully.
"Yes, everything is fine," Silraen snapped, then turned back to the other elf, "I have three severely injured elves and litters will not suffice if I have no one strong enough to carry them over any distance. I need horses."
"Give her what she needs, please, Nedhal." Haldir ordered, and to Silraen's annoyance, the elf nodded respectfully and scurried away.
"How do you do that?" she said, shaking her head.
"How go your preparations?" Haldir asked softly.
"I wanted to be out of here already," she replied, irritation written clearly on her face, "But we'll be lucky if we've set out by dawn at this rate."
Haldir nodded. "What can I do?" he asked.
Silraen glanced down at the ground, biting her lip, "You could go play with the children," she whispered, "Now, while there's time."
Haldir's heart hitched in his chest, and he closed his eyes against the pain. Could this be the last time he would see his children, hear their laughter, be soothed by their sweet joyfulness? He reached out for Silraen, cupping the back of her head and dropping a kiss to her forehead. He turned away then, to find his children, and make the most he could out of his last minutes with them.
Silraen had followed Haldir to Miradhel's home. She had turned away as he lifted Halnorel in his arms, sure she could not stand to see him with them, knowing they might never be together like this again. Instead, she entered Miradhel's bedroom. The dim room smelled of smoke from the fire. Strewn about were clothes, jewelry, decorations. Miradhel was busily stuffing a great number of possessions into a large sack. Silraen frowned and stepped further into the room.
"You-you won't be able to carry so much," she said. She went to stand next to the small elf, and gently took a heavy book, an ornate mirror, a carved child's toy from the bag. "You must leave these things behind."
"I cannot," Miradhel whispered, her voice catching. She picked up the mirror, turning it over in her hands with reverence. "My husband gave this to me. And the book, the dagger, this belt, all were his. They are all I have left of him."
Miradhel was crying now, and Silraen's heart went out to her. Would it be any different, if their places were reversed? What if she had lost Haldir, would she not want to hold on to any reminders of him that she could? She placed a hand on Miradhel's shoulder. "We will come back, when it is safe. But for now, we must move swiftly. You can take your memories of him with you. They weigh nothing."
Silraen hugged Miradhel then, and the elder elf sobbed into Silraen's shoulder. Miradhel was so fragile, and Silraen feared she would not survive her first night in the wilds. She feared most of the elves in Caras Galadhon were not meant for such a life. But, they would have no choice but to learn.
Though he knew there were probably things he could be doing to help his brother, help the other soldiers, Rumil did not care. He had never shirked his responsibilities before, but he found he could not draw himself away from Linaya, not now, not when so much was uncertain. He sat moodily in the window sill, watching her pack. Neither of them had said anything for many long minutes. There was too much to say, neither knew where to start, so they just didn't. Rumil's gaze was drawn to her stomach as she leaned awkwardly over her pack, rearranging the articles of tiny clothing she had made in anticipation of her child's birth. She gazed for a moment at the miniature shirt, studying the moon and stars she had embroidered on the collar. She had envisioned this last stretch of her pregnancy to be a time of joyful rest, of being fawned over by Rumil and bonding with Miradhel and Silraen. She thought that once she had a child, she would no longer feel like an outsider in their family, that she could barter passage into their circle with a new baby.
But, there would be no late night arguments with her husband over baby names or long afternoons lounging by the river. It was going to be grueling climbs over mountains and long cold nights. Her child would be born into a time of war and strife, one new life beginning while so many others would end.
Linaya wandered to the corner of the room, running a graceful hand over the half-finished wall hanging still within her loom. She was a weaver by trade, and had started this tapestry for the nursery months earlier. She would have had just enough time to finish it before she gave birth. But, now it would sit here and collect dust, forgotten, like everything else left unfinished and unsaid by their hasty departure.
Linaya started as she felt Rumil's hands slip around her sides and come to rest gently over her belly. He set his chin on her shoulder, sighing deeply and tracing the patterns of the tapestry with his eyes. It would have been beautiful. The fine threads were woven into the pattern of a starry sky, with doves flitting over the treetops. "You are so talented," Rumil whispered, kissing her ear.
"A lot of good that talent will do me out there in the mountains," she murmured.
"You'll come back and finish it. Soon. Besides, Silraen will watch out for you. She knows how to handle herself out there."
"Rumil," she whimpered suddenly, turning in his embrace, "Rumil, what if the baby comes before this is over? What if I must give birth out there in the wilds?"
"Then you must give birth out there in the wilds. I don't know too much about babies, but I'm pretty sure when they decide to be born there's no stopping them."
"I don't think I can do it without you there." Linaya whispered, her voice weak and shaking.
"Darling, I'm sure this will all be over by then, and you'll give birth right here in our home like we planned. And I'll be here, holding your hand, and I'll cut the cord just like tradition, and we'll be so happy...the three of us."
"But, Rumil, what if—"
"Shh...There's nothing we can do. If I cannot be there when you give birth, then know that my spirit will be there, holding your hand, always beside you. Do you understand?"
Linaya nodded and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight. Rumil blinked quickly, refusing to weep before his frightened wife, but feeling more raw, more defenseless than he ever had before.
Silraen was lashing sacks of lembas onto the back of one of the horses when she sensed someone watching her. She finished off the knot, jerking hard on the rope to be sure it would hold, and turned.
Lady Galadriel was standing amid the chaos of Caras Galadhon with such striking serenity that Silraen blinked once, shocked by the contrast. Galadriel inclined her head to the south, and to her great annoyance, Silraen felt her feet begin to follow almost without thought. There was so much to be done, she did not have time to...
Silraen had never been allowed here before, but she knew where she was. A stream trickled gently over mossy stones beside a weathered stone pedestal. It was the Lady's mirror. To Silraen's shock, Galadriel took the silver disk that sat atop the pedestal and the gleaming pitcher that sat to the side, and pressed them into Silraen's hands. Silraen tried to flinch away, sure that her lowly hands had no place holding something of such power and legend.
"My-my Lady," she stammered, "What are you doing?"
Galadriel's voice was as even as ever, but there was turmoil in her eyes, "Take them for your daughter. When she is ready, give them to her. She is a very powerful creature."
"But...but, my Lady, won't you need these things? Surely, they will be of some value to you in this fight."
Galadriel smiled softly, "May I show you something, Silraen?"
Silraen nodded, following the Lady again with the awkward but precious load clutched to her chest. They climbed back up the hill, to a horse trough at the back of the stables. "Look into the water," Galadriel ordered.
Silraen met her blue eyes with a frown of confusion, but finally, she stooped over, gazing into the cloudy water. All she could see was the rippling image of her own reflection, and her frown deepened as she saw the black thread holding her forehead together and the angry red edges of the wound. But, a change came, so gradually that she barely noticed it at first, and she saw the wound fade into a jagged white scar. She looked up, and saw that she was no longer in Caras Galadhon. She didn't know...where she was at all. She glanced around in confusion and saw that even the Lady was gone. She was looking down over a wide green valley ringed by jagged mountain peaks, her hands clutched to a rough-hewn wood railing. A lake lay within the trees, its dark blue surface disturbed by the breeze, and she could hear children laughing. She tried to look behind her, but with a flash that took her breath, she was contemplating her reflection again, back in Caras Galadhon, bent double over a horse trough.
"You see, the power is not in the water or the container or the place. It comes through me. So too it will be for your daughter. These trinkets are only for show, they help people to open their minds to what might be seen. They will give her confidence when she is first learning to channel her power."
Silraen nodded, but was still shaken by her vision. There had been something familiar, comforting about the place, and she felt part of her was left there, left in this mystery realm. "Thank you, my Lady," she murmured nodding down at the fine silver items in her arms.
"Good luck, Silraen. Your strength may be the only hope our people have. Keep them well."
Silraen breathed deeply, but felt her jaw shake with nervous energy. "Yes, my Lady," she whispered, and turned away.
Silraen stood in her bedroom, looking at all the little things she had accumulated, all the possessions scattered about. She could remember how reluctant she had been those first few years to purchase or make anything, her instinct still to keep her life uncluttered. She could not get used to the idea that she did not have to carry all she had on her back, that she could fill her home with things that would never need to be moved again. But, now here she stood, amid those things she had finally brought herself to keep, realizing what a fool she had been. She had let herself get attached to this place, to these meaningless objects, thinking that she could stay here forever. But, forever had proved shorter than she had thought.
She began to turn away angrily, with only a small sack of clothing slung over one shoulder, when she paused. The shelf sat undusted and forgotten, displaying the few precious things that had been in her pockets when she came here. As Silraen approached it, she could see the objects were not where they belonged, and the brush of fingerprints could be seen in the thick film of dust. Only Haldir could reach the shelf, and she frowned, wondering what he had wanted with them. After a moment of silent debate, she jerked the Corsair amulet from the shelf and pulled it over her head.
As the copper pendent settled against her skin, she remembered the day it had come to her. They had been in a marketplace in a southern coastal town, weaving through the crowd, hoping to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Elves were not seen often in these lands and were sometimes treated with suspicion. The amulet had been hanging on a tree branch stuck in a vendor's table, along with many other trinkets. The copper talisman was molded in the shape of a bear, with tiny beads of purple shell strung along the leather cord and a milky green stone set where the heart of the bear would be. Silraen had stopped so quickly upon seeing it that her brother had crashed into her back, cursing in surprise.
Silraen's mother had argued at the frivolous nature of the purchase, but her father had come up to her side, eyeing the jewelry with approval. As the copper caught the sun, glinting in his bottomless blue eyes, he had whispered, "The boy will need it. It will help him to be strong."
Silraen had glanced sharply at her father, hearing the faraway breathiness of his voice that always came when he was seeing things that others could not see. She had blushed in embarrassment, and paid the merchant quickly to break up the tense silence. She never forgot what he said. She always wondered who "the boy" was, and what her father had seen. But, now was not the time to contemplate old mysteries.
Silraen stepped out onto the terrace, picking up her bow and quiver from where they lay on the porch. Haldir had let her keep the sword from the armory, assuring with a smile that she had "earned it." Now it was strapped to her belt, its weight comforting against her hip. As she straightened, she looked down over the city, watching the good-byes, the tears, feeling the fear in the valley like an ominous fog. Linaya and Rumil were there, and Miradhel. Orophin was in a crude wooden litter that would be dragged behind one of the horses. He saw her first, and watched her with pained green eyes.
She did not raise her voice, and yet somehow it resonated through the valley as she said, "Say your good-byes, but I swear to you that I will see us all together again very soon. I know not what we may face on our road. But, I will not lead you astray. Now, head for the gates. We go north."
Haldir was waiting for her as she reached the ground. His blond head was bowed and his eyes were closed. He held Danuriel in his arms, cradling her gently against his broad chest. In some childish way, he thought that if he didn't watch Silraen walk down those stairs it would not be real. But, he felt her hand on his arm and slowly opened his eyes.
"It was not supposed to be like this," he whispered, his blue gaze burning into hers, "We were supposed to live here forever and watch our children grow and maybe they would have children and we would watch them grow. That is how it was supposed to be."
"I know," Silraen's voice shook wildly, "I know." She wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his neck and feeling the downy hair of her daughter brush against her chin.
Haldir's voice reached her again, she felt the rumble of his words where her face rested against his throat. "This has always been right," he said simply, "No matter what else has gone wrong, even when I felt like the world was crumbling around me, being with you has always felt right."
Haldir felt the back of Silraen's hand brush against his chest as she reached for the baby. Reluctantly, he released Danuriel, and watched as Silraen tucked the child carefully into a cloth sling over her shoulder. When the baby was snuggled securely against Silraen's chest, she met Haldir's eyes for one long moment. Then, she reached up, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and pulled his face down for a kiss. She didn't care that the Lord and Lady were there to see, she wouldn't have cared if all the Valar were watching them. She wanted to give Haldir a kiss he would never forget.
When they finally broke apart, faces flushed and gasping for breath, Silraen cast her eyes down. She did not look up, just whispered, "I love you." She brushed past him, taking the reins to the horse that carried Orophin, and without another word, led the people of Caras Galadhon into the hills.
Huge thanks to my reviewers Puxinette, blue4dogs, moonbunny77 and TigerLily!!! You are so awesome!