Chapter 13
Hylin woke up with a gasp. She was tangled in her bedding, and drenched in sweat. Her breath came in broken, jerky sobs. Gods what a dream!
Hylin ground the heels of her hands into her eyes to suppress the image. The vision of Haldir dead had come before her eyes again and again. His eyes black with death, his face lifeless and still. Hylin shuddered as she freed herself from the confines of her sheets and felt the cold floor against her feet. She padded across the room and out to the balcony that overlooked the wood. The night air was sharply cold against her flushed skin, but she welcomed the spring chill.
Dew hung heavy in the air. Hylin knew it must be the depth of night because only the softest sounds of the living wood disturbed the quiet. Here there was a deep respect for the need of all living things to rest, to embrace silence, even if sleep was not the larger part of the night hours for many elves. She was the only one in Lothlorien in need of sleep and there was little hope of that now.
Hylin wrapped her arms around herself as the heat of her nightmares ebbed away and was replaced by the chill of worry. It seemed like weeks since Haldir had gone away and she had been left alone with her books. Those damned books, she thought bitterly, would to God, she had never read them!
Far below came the scuttle of some small animal through the brush, and Hylin retreated back into her rooms. Few elves may wander the wood at night, but she did not wish to be seen scantily clad and visibly upset. She sat on the couch near the brazier where dark, cold embers lay, and drew her knees to her chin. On the table beside her lay the volume that had caused as her distress.
A History of the First Born and Edain
Page after page told of the first meetings of the elves with men, their wars and alliances, but mostly of the great betrayals. Of all things, men valued power and would side with whosoever offered the greatest chance of achieving it. Often, to the slaughter of their own kith and kin and thousands of elves. It was shameful.
Roswyth had tried to comfort her, "You must not trust every author or history," she explained, "Some carry very personal quarrels about past grievances and do not always retell the history as it happened."
"Are you saying none of it is true?" Hylin had asked, "That it is all a fairytale?"
"No," Roswyth answer was soft and firm, "But it does not tell all the story. Few folks had free choice of allegiance in those first centuries. Life was violent and bloody and more treachery occurred than could ever be written in a book.- on all sides."
"But it is the elves who remember the disloyalty of men most," Hylin refused to be persuaded.
Roswyth sighed, "You should not be too severe on your people. The long memories of the elves are too often an excuse to hold a grudge against those in the past. Be grateful to be Edain, a young race with vigor and the ability to change in the short span of a generation."
"But you would not choose to be one of us if you could," Hylin said.
Roswyth faltered for a moment and looked away, "No, but it is not given to me to change my lot in this world. Nor is it to bear the weight of the sins of ancestors who have long passed into myth. "
"I would," Hylin had snapped, "I would change myself to elf kind if I could. To read the tales of Edain promising faith one moment and breaking it the next makes me sick. It is so shameful."
Roswyth had laid a calming hand on Hylin's arm and said seriously, "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"
For the first time since coming to the golden wood, Hylin had longed to tell her friend the truth. Who she was, who she was supposed to become and who she had promised to be. That she was not even Hylin at all.
In the gloom of the night, Hylin's eyes fell once more on the open pages of the history. One word stood out in the dim light.
Treacherui
Treachery.
Deceit. Lies. It was the legacy of men. Her legacy.
It all ended in death.
Suddenly, she was exhausted. A dull ache had begun throbbing at the base of her skull and wrapped around to her eyes. If only Haldir would return, the world would be right once more. Wearily, Hylin made her way back to her room and collapsed in the twisted bedding. She twitched one blanket free and curled into it, her head cushioned on her arm. Sleep came slowly and the nightmares began again.
Dawn came with blinding light. Hylin groaned and rolled away from the rays that pierced her hot, tired eyes. Her mouth felt dry and her head ached as she pulled herself from the sleeping couch. Outside the sound of spring blasted her sensitive ears without regard for her restless night. Close by she could hear Roswyth preparing the morning meal. For the first time in months, Hylin wished she was alone. She did not want to answer Roswyth's concerned questions and queries about her exhausted appearance.
"Good morning," she heard Roswyth said.
"Good morning, is she awake?" Haldir's tone was just loud enough for her to hear.
Hylin heart raced. He was back!
With trembling hands, Hylin changed her clothes and splashed cool water over her face. A glance in the small mirror told her she looked as weary as she felt, but the excitement of her love's return had put a bright flush in her cheeks. She had just finished brushing her long hair when Roswyth appeared to announce their visitor.
"I see you heard him," the elleth smiled.
"Help me please," Hylin motioned for Roswyth's deft hands to twist and pin the long waves out of her face.
"You look –" the elleth began.
"Exhausted, I know." Hylin cut her off.
"I was going to say, you look in love," Roswyth rejoined. Hylin's blush deepened, "Go to him."
Without another word, Hylin fled the small room. Haldir was not in the sitting room, but had removed himself outside the door. He turned at the sound of her feet across the floor and opened his arms to embrace her. His expression was tender and oddly shy. Hylin flung her arms around his neck and buried her nose against the collar of his tunic. He smelled like the woods; fresh and young. His arms wrapped warmly around her and they held each other silently for a long, satisfying moment.
"How I missed you," he breathed against her hair.
"I liked it not," she whispered.
He pulled away and gazed down at her, his expressed changing to concern, "Have you been ill, melin órë?"
She huffed in annoyance, "I am well. A sleepless night is all that you see."
He smiled at her disgruntled expression and smoothed a curl behind her ear, "If you say it is nothing, I believe you."
She shook off her discontent and forced a smile to her lips, "I have not been-settled since you left."
Haldir took her shoulders gently, "We have much to decide. Perhaps the full weight of our situation has surprised us both."
Hylin wrapped her arms around Haldir's waist and nestled her head against his chest, "I'm afraid so. I—I have something to tell you. Something I have concealed a long while."
Roswyth announced the meal at that moment, but Haldir waved her away, a small furrow appearing between his eyes.
"Come, my love," he said and led her down the flet stairs and into the winding paths had curled through the heart of the wood.
For long moments, Hylin allowed the distraction of the surroundings to prolong the inevitable conversation. Haldir walked silently beside her, his strong arm supporting her. As she stole tiny glances at him, Hylin saw he kept his expression neutral. There was no demand in his eyes. Not yet.
Haldir led her along a new pathway. He moved with ease and purpose through a maze of different groves and glens until they arrived at a garden Hylin had never seen. The pathway dipped down and seemed craved into the very earth itself. The massive Lorien trees towered over it like sentinels where someone had long ago dug down into the earth to create a protected coppice. Thrusting out from the earth in the center of the clearing was a moss covered alter. Built from perfectly stacked stone, the top was flat and level. A silver basin lay atop the smooth the surface. It was made with such perfection that is mirrored the greenery around it so it nearly disappeared.
A deep hush muffled all sound as they stepped down into the walls of the garden. It was as if they were transported to another world. The air was thick with power and the hair on the back of Hylin's neck rose at the sensation. It was a holy place.
"We should not be here," Hylin suddenly whispered pulling back on Haldir's arm, "This is a place of great magic."
"Aye. It is that," Haldir agreed, "But we do not intrude. I brought you here because this sanctum is hallowed. No words spoken of here leave. It is a place of secrets and magic. It is the place of the Lady Galadriel."
"But if she were to come here, she may be angry to see me." Hylin looked alarmed.
Haldir shook his head taking her once more by the arms, "My love, no. The Lady Galadriel is just and kind. In her wisdom, the lady knows the hearts of those who dwell in Lothlorien. She will not take it amiss if we linger here. She is as a mother to me."
Hylin did not look convinced. Her eyes, wide and fearful, were fastened on the alter and its empty basin. Dread filled her with its cold fear and Haldir's beloved voice seemed far away. The dull ache in her head seemed to throb with the wink of light against the basin. Without knowing the purpose of the instrument, she knew it was a revealer of truth.
"Hylin!"
She snapped back to the present as Haldir barked her name in alarm. His eyes were dark and frantic until she met them and he saw she had returned to herself.
"I—I am afraid of this place. It is too much for me."
Haldir turned her away from the heart of the glade and all but carried her away from the sacred veil, his arm supporting her up and away. He had never seen this reaction to elven magic before. Hylin was white to the lips, her breath shallow and fast. What had caused her distress?
They had barely left the glade when Hylin broke from his grasp, and stumbling a few steps ahead gulping in great lungful's of air. He reached out to support her and Hylin threw her hand out.
"No, don't! Do not touch me! I will be well—I must. If I let you hold me before I say it, I never shall. You deserve the truth." She reached out as if to cling to him and snatched her hands back. "Oh, dear one, I must speak now before another moment passes or I will lie the rest of my life."
Haldir froze at her words. His breath caught tight in his chest. His warrior's training allowed him to remain outwardly calm even as his mind took in every aspect of the moment. Hylin, her right hand pressed against her heaving breast, closed her eyes to gather herself. All traces of the proud woman he knew, were gone.
She opened her eyes and they were filled with tears, "You do not know, Haldir, who you love. You saved my life, cared for me, taught me your language and loved me," her voice choked with tears, "You welcomed me into this most holy sanctuary, but I do not deserve it. I am not Hylin, I never was. I am the daughter of Dírhael and Ivorwen of Eriador. I am Gilraen of Eriador, the promised queen to Arathorn of the Dúnedain."