Elanor's fingers drummed on the steering wheel, tension thick as they neared the institute. Back straight, she felt the ache that started to overcome both her neck muscles and her brain. The small city welcomed her tiny Vauxhall with open arms, agitation low given the early afternoon. It did not prevent her thoughts from being muddled by the onslaught of networks, radios and electricity wires. But for once, the various interferences weren't the source of her turmoil.
Visits to her mother ranked from catastrophic – depending on her medication – too heartbreaking. Unpredictable, she never knew in what state of despair she would find her mum. And despite the great love she carried for the woman who had given birth to her, and raised her without a father figure, Elanor still suffered from those bouts of madness until they became unmanageable.
Her heart shattered on the day she had to sign those fated paper to have her mother committed, but she had been unable to shoulder the responsibility. Elya's moments of paranoia simply put her at too much risk; she needed care Elanor wasn't equipped to provide for.
How would she fare today ? Ever since Myriam had arranged for her transfer in a smaller institute, away from the greater city and its mind-numbing buzz, Elya seemed to improve.
Red light. Drum, drum, drum.
Better, but sill in outer space, depending on her medication. Her mother complained about the food – too processed –the wireless network – too distracting and the noises – too loud, even at night. She said the grass was dying under her feet whenever they put those horrible chemicals in the ground, yelled at gardeners when they chopped off the bushes, screamed, even, if a tree was harmed. Looked at the sky with tears in her eyes, stating that human had corrupted even the highest, most inaccessible places of the world.
She could have been a very convincing ecologist if her mind had not decided to splinter under stress. And the worst in all this was that Elanor felt the same. How long until she, also, plunged ? Would they end up on the same institute, lamenting together under the watchful eye of nurses ? Would Myriam visit her, the only one who never offered pity ?
When warm fingers landed on her forearm, Elanor's heart missed a beat.
"Mára ná," came a melodic voice by her side. (All is well)
The young woman stilled, called back to reality by the warm, welcoming touch. Then, under that soothing presence, she felt her back muscles relax. Eyes shifting aside, she caught a glimpse of her alien friend. His gaze shimmered with both compassion and anticipation. Why he'd insisted on joining the ride baffled her, but the moment she'd explained the aim of her absence, Laurëfindelë had petitioned to come. Adamant and stubborn was more like it.
After being scooped up for so long, Elanor couldn't find the heart to refuse him. And, incidentally, his presence reassured her. Albeit she was unnerved by the idea of him witnessing her mother's decline; Laurë was too fine a detective not to miss out that this was the state that awaited her in the future as well. His hair flowed easily around him, a halo brightened by the afternoon sun, not yet hidden under the hat she'd gotten for him.
There were little chances of him being recognised by a camera, but she would not take the risk. And, with the Borsalino on, he looked devastatingly handsome. And without… there weren't any works to describe his ethereal beauty; there was no getting used to it. Elanor gazed upon him for an instant, watching sunrays play hide and seek with his sculpted features. His eyes seemed to laugh at her for a moment.
Honk !
Elanor jumped; the light had turned green. With a blush, she passed the first gear and ploughed on to the institute. The parking was half empty; there was no turning back. So the young woman gathered her courage, and, finding strength in her gentle alien, led him to the entrance.
Laurëfindelë's otherworldly beauty struck dumb half of the personnel, most nurses stuttering when the other half stole glances at the model who's just stepped into their remote psychiatric hospital. Elanor smirked; rumours would run wild for a while, replacing the gossip about whose patient had the worst crisis. For sure, no one would forget the sight of this tall, well-built man and his mane of light. And, to those that gathered his attention for half a second, she was sure they would, as well, forever remember his unnerving gaze.
You could ignore that this incredible man, er, alien, had battled a fire-breathing demon, but not the strength of his aura. Even though most people could not feel them consciously, they still reacted to it, brows furrowing and eyes glazing over Laurë's overwhelming presence.
Her mother reacted just as strongly as the nurses. But not for the same reasons. As soon as the door clicked behind them, Elya jumped from her armchair, sending the macramé jewels she had been creating to the floor. Pearls scattered on the linoleum ground, fake gems following suit as she gasped and strode straight to Laurë.
Anyone else would have recoiled, but he didn't move an inch. Elya's withered hands came to rest upon his cheeks, embarrassing Elanor. Yet, rather than push her away, Laurëfindelë squinted; he was searching something in her mother's gaze.
"You are real," her mother whispered.
"Mum," she protested.
But Elya did not hear her. The young woman cringed; was she gone from reality again ? When tears gathered in the older woman's eyes, Elanor went to grab the hands that kept her friend trapped, only for him to stop her.
"Mara ná," he repeated for the second time that day, the melodic Quenya blooming in her chest like a beacon. Sometimes, she swore her alien friend could warp reality, creating bubbles of happiness and warmth when he used his voice.
Her mother gasped, hands falling at her sides, tears running down her cheeks.
"Alar !" she said, fist splayed on her chest in a greeting. Then, she bowed, like a freaking man from the 19th century. "Quende nalyë." (Greetings, you are one of the Eldar.)
Elanor gasped. Quenya. Her mother was speaking Quenya. What in the bloody hell was a quende ? Jawslack, Elanor watched a crease form between Laurëfindelë's perfect eyebrows.
"Là. Nalyë perhedil ?"
Elanor frowned; what was that word ? The rest of the conversation was lost to her as her mother denied Laurë's claims, the older woman stumbling through words, but much more at ease with Quenya than herself – a so-called language specialist. Had she not been completely dumbstruck by this turn of events, Elanor might have been jealous of her own mother.
But there were more pressing matters to attend to. Such as…
"What is a peredhil ?" she asked.
"A half elf, born from an elf and a human."
Mind in turmoil, Elanor sank on the bed, oblivious to the hand that reached out to stabilise her. Laurëfindelë was an alien from another world, and none of this made sense. How had her mother learnt his language ? Searching his face, she massaged her aching temples.
"An elf ? Laurë, are we speaking Santa's elves ?"
She missed the twitching of his lips before another voice rose.
"Laurë ?" Her mother interrupted. "Laurefindelë hó Valinórë? Vanya nalyë ?"
Elanor's eyes popped open so fast that the light nearly burnt her irises. His name had not been pronounced for obvious reasons… how could her mother know who he was, and where he came from ? Laurë had spoken once of the blessed realm, Valinórë, the land he used to live before Gondolin. But she ignored what a Vanya was. Swimming in the unknown, her breath shortened as blood rushed to her head. Perhaps she was dreaming…
"Nanyë." (I am.)
Laurë's regal voice called her back to reality. Something shifted in his aura, the nobility coming forth, as if he now represented the House of the Golden Flower he once led. At once, the picture of that valiant warrior, fully clad in shining armour, invaded her senses.
"Laurë…", Elanor whispered, overwhelmed.
"Show some respect, girl," her mother chastised her, spooked by the nickname. The young woman's eyes snapped to her mother's, finding her so alert, so alive. For a moment, she felt like a five-year-old being scolded by that intense mother who had not spiralled down, yet, into madness.
"Mara ná, Elya herin." (All is well, Lady Elya). "Elanor Laurëfindelë-va meldië. There is no need for formalities between us," he added in English, probably for Elanor's sake. His hand settled at her shoulder, lending strength for her to gather herself.
"Mum. How do you know Quenya ?"
"Tis was my mother's tongue, before we both learnt English."
Elanor gasped. Words danced in her mind; tales of her childhood came crashing back to her, suddenly shed in another light. As Elya sat in her favourite armchair, by the window, the young woman found the courage to ask the question that would forever tilt the world on its axis.
"Did Grandma come from Arda ?"
"Aye, Daughter. She was one of the quendi. An elf, the humans call us."
"Humans ?" she exclaimed, wondering if her mother was descending into another delirium. "Aren't we all human ?"
Well, Laurë is an alien after all, so maybe not entirely human. But her mother didn't dwell on technicalities as she dropped a bombshell at her feet.
"No. I was an elf, just like Lord Laurëfindelë. But this world… it corrupted me."
Lord Laurëfindelë.
Elanor's mind remained stuck at No. No, her mother wasn't a human. Laurëfindelë wasn't human. He was an elf. A freaking elf. And what the hell was an elf anyway ? Gaping, Elanor turned to Laurëfindele, detailing his chiselled features, so perfectly carved, his otherworldly aura, his inner strength and power. How could she have, for just a moment, believe him to be limited by humanity ?
"You…"
The light bulb ignited in her mind at the memory of a conversation around the coffee table. An ellon, he had called Echtelion. Ellon wasn't a term of endearment. It meant elf, whatever that species was. Stupid, stupid her. She'd dismissed the notion, thinking he was using a nickname for his dearest friend and lover. But…
His hand pressed once more on her shoulder before retreating. To say the loss of that simple contact caused her heart to lurch painfully was an understatement, but Elanor gulped down the fear and tried with all her might to absorb it all.
"Lady Elya," he asked, "who were your parents ?"
"My mother was named Nelya, from the name of their clan…"
Laurë offered another regal nod, his eyes sparkling with wonder at hearing, once more, tales of his beloved Arda. Elanor ignored how many elves dwelt there, perhaps so few that they all knew each other by names ?
"The Nelyar ?", his smooth voice mused. "Those of the third clan who remained in middle earth ?"
"Là," Elya answered, her hands fidgeting with little macramé threads she had scattered on her tray. "Her hair was dark, and her eyes clear like crystals."
Elanor had very little recollections of her grandmother; too early had the woman left them both, throwing herself off a cliff in a bout of madness. But she remembered a sweet voice, and piercing eyes that seemed to see through her soul. And impossibly long hair, like a Japanese princess, threads of silver dancing in ebony waves.
"And your father ?"
"I was but a babe when my mother crossed. I only know what she told me of him."
An elf. Her grandma had been an elf. And if her mother claimed to be one as well, it meant her grandfather also… like Laurë ? Always, she had lamented not meeting him. But now that she knew, the sense of loss increased tenfold. Was he, like Laurë, a mythical warrior facing horrible beasts ? Was he tall and strong, a force of nature ? Did he, too, look too young with eyes that spoke of wisdom ?
"What was he called?"
"Mai… Mae…"
Eyebrows scrunched, the older woman seemed to struggle with the notion, as if the knowledge was at the tip of her tongue but refused to be shared. With a great sigh, her gaze returned to the trees, outside, as if hypnotised by their gentle swaying. For a dreadful moment, Elanor feared the madness had claimed her again until she sighed.
"I… cannot recall."
"Tell me what you know."
Authority laced Laurë's voice, gentle, but unyielding. It was the tone of someone used to being obeyed, someone who ran an entire battalion of soldiers, and could still hold his own in high court. Ageless, yet laden with strength. Graceful, joyful, but capable of killing. Elya responded to the command with an earnest light in her gaze.
"Mum said his hair shone like flames, and his spirit burnt with strength. My mother spoke of him with fondness and exasperation. She loved him, even though she wasn't allowed to. Her family cast her out because of it."
There was little certainty in Elanor's life, but the knowledge of that great bound. A tragic, intense and blinding love between people that shouldn't have. A Romeo and Juliet romance that defied every logic at the time; how she knew it was a wonder. Perhaps the songs her grandmother used to sing had seared her very essence with those tales of old ? Elanor suddenly gasped, recalling tunes she'd long forgotten; her secret language… had it been Quenya ?
Something unfurled in her breast, like a long lost memory awakening, vibrating, asking to come out to the surface. And with it, fear. As if the suffering of her line was stored, just out of reach, begging to be acknowledged. But Laurëfindelë wasn't done with his interrogation and he stood to his full height, a lonesome, strong figure between daughter and mother.
"How did she cross the veil between our worlds ?"
Elya's expression turned fearful, as if she expected shadows to jump at her. Was she, too, embedded with the knowledge of her mother's innermost struggles ?
"There was a war. My father… he was captured by a ghastly beast she could not even speak of. She said… his brothers spoke of brutal torture, but they couldn't free him. They grew fearful, pushed her to leave, to hide with me. Nana told me she crossed paths with some kind of god, a higher being offered her safe passage on his behalf, just to wait for safer times."
"A Vala ? Maia ?"
Elya shrugged, but her hands shook on the tray, pushing away more of her work to the side. Her voice was slightly choked when she chuckled darkly.
"Perhaps. Nana would swear in their names."
The Vala, higher beings of Arda, had supposedly shaped the not so round planet Laurë lived on. What a strange concept. Elanor stood and silently started to recover the pieces of macramé and fake gems her mother had been working on while she continued her story. But, as her mother talked and her agitation grew, the young woman abandoned all pretence and grabbed her shaking hands in hers.
"Mum." Elya batted her attempt away to point an accusing finger at the alien… no, the elf standing a few feet away.
"He lied," she spat, anger overcoming anguish. "That despicable God of yours lied. We never found a way back."
A frown settled between Laurëfindele's brows, the expression too solemn on his fair features. For a moment, he gave Elanor a long, considering look, and she dearly hoped he would not resent her for the slight to his Gods. Laurë revered the Vala, whomever they were, imaginary beings or physical ones. Perhaps, too, that her mother's outburst reminded him that he was stuck here.
"Mum, you need to calm down." Elya wrenched herself from her daughter's hold with surprising strength for a supposedly ailing woman.
"Ask them !" she shouted in Laurë's face. "Ask them, why they condemned us to this. Why they reaped our immortality !"
Immortality ?
Elanor watched with horror her mother insult her friend's Gods, face to face, without an ounce of remorse. Laurë's face was closed, his jaw clenched, but he did not make a gesture to defend himself; her heart went out to him. Then she felt it, the wave of anguish that forced her knees to bend. A machine beeped in the background, lights flickered in the room. And her mother's cries rose again, her desperation laced within the words, biting into Elanor with icy clutches.
"Nana and I were stuck here ! She lost her mind so fast like I am losing mine ! There is no way back. It is so dark here, so dark and corrupted…"
Elya's hands rose, then clamped on Laurë's arms; yet, he still did not move, his gaze fixed upon her, all senses alert. Another flicker of light, another power surge that passed through Elanor like a devastating wave.
"And I … can't. As you probably feel it."
He nodded, and her mother turned her crazed eyes to her, full of pity. "And now Ella… " Despite the onslaught of energy screaming at her to stay down, Elanor struggled to her feet and addressed her mother a stern look.
"I can take care of myself."
But Elya would have none of it, and she released Laurë to march back to her daughter. But before she could cup her face, the elf grabbed her wrist. Terrified, Elanor watched her mother lose ground with reality, her breath shortening, her cheeks puffing, eyes glazing over. "Take your elf back !" she yelled, struggling against Laurë's hold. "Keep him away ! He is powerful, he has seen the trees."
"Elya," the elf attempted to soothe her. "Elya, hear my voice."
But her mother was too far gone in her mind, words spewing out of her mouth in nonsensical rabble of Vanya, of protective light and other mumblings of those that stayed behind in the dark.
What the hell is she rambling about ?
"Vanya, mum ?"
But she wasn't listening to her, head cocked aside as shouts echoed in the corridor. Elya's eyes widened in fear.
"They come for me," she whispered. In one last bout of frenzy, she whirled around to Laurë. "Don't let her be eaten by the world!" she shouted. Then, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell in a seizure. Elanor gasped, reaching out by instinct, a gesture she had done too many times to count. But Laurë had already scooped her mother up, two strong arms encasing her convulsing body.
"On the bed !", Elanor shouted, about to reach for the nurse's call button.
"Wait !" he commanded. Why she obeyed was beyond her.
And, as he laid her mother down on the bed with gentle care, his voice rose again.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Elanor froze at the pure enchantment of his voice. Laurë was singing... chanting ? No. It was more than that. Light engulfed his form as his words rose. Praying. Brilliance seemed to bleed from him, burning stronger and stronger as his voice lilted.
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
The light caressed her senses and unfurled in her breast, as if it had always been there. Waves engulfed her in a cocoon of beauty, of sweetness and well-being. Suddenly, all was well in the world. Her mother's seizure gently eased as she rested on the bed. Reality, warped and corrupted reality, appeared dark beyond them, pushed back by Laurë's tremendous power.
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, sí nef aearon!
Elanor abandoned her sense to the light, recalling her grandmother's voice singing the same lullaby when days were dull and gray. She saw high peaks and immaculate snow, and a mountain so high it touched the heavens – Taniquetil - green pastures as its feet and blue waters crashing against its cliffside.
Valinórë.
A loud snap, then all alarm bells went silent. The power had died. Painfully wrenched from her reverie, Elanor relished in the silence until the alternate generator flared to life. Then, panic overtook the whole institute and people burst forth the doors with syringes.
Elanor watched, helpless, the nurses try to push Laurë away.
"Wait ! Wait !" she shouted. A nurse stopped her before she could reach her mother. "It's not the first time power dies when she has a crisis. She needs to sleep it off."
Tears burnt her eyes as she shook her head. "No ! She's fine, see ! She's awake, she's calm."
"No, she is in a seizure."
Her mother's eyes were open, and her gaze held Laurëfindelë's with such determination that nothing could wrench it away. Someone, a massive man, tried to sweep him aside; he did not relent. Like a mountain, rooted to the ground, his slim build proved impossible to budge. It was only when Elya's lids eventually dropped, overwhelmed by too high a dose of sedative that Laurëfindelë whirled around and left.