Chapter Eleven - Maedeth
Maedeth closed her eyes, taking a deep breath that filled her whole chest with fresh air and the scent of floral candles. A stack of discarded books sat to her right under the open window of the corner of Elrond's Library that she had claimed after a couple hours of sleep. Their aged leather covers were smooth and faded from years of use by the loremasters of the Noldor.
She was no loremaster. Maedeth had chosen the path of councilor long ago, and while that had required study, she relied more on intuition than a millennia of elven wisdom. And yet, as she opened her eyes to look out at the first light of morning, she found herself regretting that choice more and more.
Crinkled parchment pages held safe by a blue leather tome stared back at her when she looked down at her desk. She'd started with the Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth. The Debate, as many in Rivendell simply called it, sparked philosophical discussions among the young and old alike. Maedeth loved the tales of King Finrod, eldest son of High King Finarfin and eldest brother of Lady Galadriel. He had displayed so many traits she hoped she emulated in some small way: a graceful leader, a loyal friend, a trusted ally, and more than anything, a powerfully kind diplomat.
She turned back to the text. It wasn't recorded who had written down the exchange between King Finrod and the wise woman Andreth, but Maedeth liked to think it was King Finrod himself recounting the debate over death and the merits of hope with his aging human friend. Man had always been Finrod's diplomatic focus.
Perhaps in these pages she would find some wisdom to guide her back at home. Death haunted the men of Arthedain every moment of every day. She did not concern herself with the philosophical ramifications of the Debate's discussions on a final redemption for Arda Marred. But she could feel the fear of death and near despair of Andreth in every word she spoke.
Maedeth sat back with a sigh. Who could blame her? King Finrod had come to her in a time of grief. She mourned for the loss of love, the rejection of Prince Aegnor, Lady Galadriel and King Finrod's youngest brother. Before Beren and Lúthien, they alone had come close to bridging the gap of Eldar and Edain, at least publically.
Maedeth felt her throat run dry, holding back tears as she read on. 'This is time of war, Andreth, and in such days the Elves do not wed or bear child; but prepare for death—or for flight.' Some days she related so deeply to this custom of the Eldar. Her mother had married young, on the eve of Angmar's greatest assault. But she had been born into war, and war had remained.
Rínior had rejected it. He approached all things with fire, a power she wished she had some small portion. But as Maedeth looked at the ray of sunlight breaking through morning clouds, she frowned. Perhaps it was for the best.
'For such barters are paid for in anguish that cannot be guessed until it comes, and in ignorance rather than in courage the Eldar judge that they are made.'
She could not look away from the page. The Debate predated the great unions of Beren and Lúthien and Tuor and Idril. But still, the convention that Finrod held over the grief associated with Eldar and Edain love struck a chord. He had only guessed that which she lived every day.
Maedeth shut the book.
"How long have you been at this?"
She twisted in her high back chair, finding a well rested Elladan with his arms crossed. He smiled, though it was trouble. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains on the open window and her own loosely falling red hair.
"I am unsure. A while," she said. Maedeth sighed, not getting up but angling the chair from the desk to see him better when he came to stand beside her. "Not long enough, I fear."
He leaned in, looking at the titles piled on the desk. "On the Union of Maedhros, The Collected Works of Daeron of Doriath, volumes seven and ten of Finrod's Treatises, Angrod's Speechcraft and Diplomatic Wanderings." He shook his head. "Truly, you are reading works that even I have avoided like the plague. And is that the Athrabeth?"
"Indeed. I have one more to go," she said. Maedeth ran her hands over her face. She felt nearly numb, having sat for so long staring at these ancient pages, seeking wisdom from her betters.
Elladan leaned against the desk, staring out into the library. He gave a small nod of acknowledgment to a passing loremaster before turning his head back to her. "Oh? Which one then?"
She reached across the wooden desk to the last book on the left. It was small, with a red leather cover that seemed hardly to have been touched before. Golden lettering spelled out the title: Dor Caranthir and the Naugrim. Below it glittered the eight-pointed Fëanorian Star.
Elladan looked at it in surprise as she handed it to him. He opened the first few pages. "Do not take this the wrong way, Maedeth, but since when did you seek advice from your forefather?"
Maedeth did not take offense, but she did sink a bit further into her chair. She breathed in deeply. The scent of candle smoke and fragrant blooms from some winter flowers beyond the window washed over her. The burn of embarrassment and pride wrapped up in one filled every inch of her being.
She loved her house. And she hated it. Her forefather Caranthir and foremother Haleth had allowed themselves a moment of rebellion and love amidst cultures that spurned the joining of Eldar and Edain, especially in wartime. And though it lasted only a flicker of a moment before their pride got the better of one another and they separated their lives, it had lived on down the centuries through their child and their child's child. Neither loved again.
But the Oath followed her like a ghost. It preyed on their own pride and anger, just as it had millenia ago with sons of Fëanor. Caranthir had died slaughtering innocents. Though he had not engaged in the treachery of Celegorm and Curufin when they abducted Lúthien, he had still pursued the Oath through the kinslayings.
And yet. She looked over at the red tome in Elladan's hands. And yet, his kingdom had led successful negotiations and alliances with not only Men but also Dwarves. Long before Eregion allied with Hadhodrond, Dor Caranthir allied with Belegost and Nogrod. The dwarves of the Blue Mountains and Caranthir's people grew in wealth and safety with one another, though they held no love for each other.
"Your mother suggested I turn to the House of Fëanor, instead of running away from it," she said. "And as I must prepare to leave today or tomorrow on this expedition, I could not afford to wait to do so, loath as I was. As I am. I fear it is not love I must cultivate to gain allies. It is a shared necessity. And Caranthir knew more about that than anyone."
Elladan nodded. He handed the book back. "Wise words, as your words always are."
She smiled at him, appreciating the gesture of good faith. After five hundred years Maedeth still feared she did not know enough to gain allies for the war against Angmar. The dwarves would be hardest. However, she would need to reach their kingdom first.
"Have you any idea who your father will part with to accompany me?" she asked.
As her eyes trailed over his suddenly stern expression, she tried to hide the hope in her heart that he would answer his own name. Seeing him in Fornost had reminded her how much she missed him, how she adored being in the same room as him. He had a gentleness and kindness in his unwavering pursuit of good that comforted her. But he had duties here in Rivendell. And she did not wish to part him from his brother.
Elladan sighed. "Not yet. I am going to speak with him shortly."
"Alright," she said. Maedeth turned away, trying to focus on the book in front of her. "I should return to my reading, Elladan."
He nodded. "Yes, of course. I'll see you in a few hours, then?"
She assured him that she would not miss the meeting with Elrond and the other Wise of Rivendell. No book, no matter how riveting this legal text could hope to be, would keep her away.
As it turned out, the book was far from riveting, as expected. She gladly closed its cover upon the tolling of the council bell. While Dor Caranthir and the Naugrim had given a few insights she hoped to use at the meeting with King Durin, her eyes needed a break.
Maedeth found them on the balcony of the Last Homely House. Only a few had gathered: Elrond, Celebrían, Elladan, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Gildor Inglorion. She had not seen him return with Elrohir after the feast. Though perhaps he had simply gone straight to rest. He stood chatting with Glorfindel, chuckling over a glass of tea.
"Am I the last?" she said.
Celebrían told her not to fret, that they had been early. But she saw a look of anger on his face that she had not anticipated, and it startled her. Elladan, similarly, glared down at the ground, not facing him.
"Did you find anything useful in the library, Lady Maedeth?" Glorfindel asked, joining the little group under the upper overhang of the balcony. "You noticed you slept very little."
"Indeed," she said. "Or at least, I hope."
Erestor took a sip of wine. He gestured to the journal in her hands. "I am glad to see you took notes. Which books did you consult?"
She listed them out, and was pleased when Erestor complimented her on her thoroughness. He had compiled much of the Library with Elrond's assistance over the years. Every tome had passed through his hands at some point since the founding of Rivendell.
"And when do you hope to leave?" Gildor asked. "It is quite cold out in the wild. And though I love to wander the lands of Middle Earth even now under the Shadow, it is not for the faint of heart."
"You think her faint of heart?" Elladan asked.
Gildor just waved him off. "Peace, Elladan, I meant no offense."
"None was taken, lord," Maedeth assured him. She herself had been occupied by these thoughts even while trying to do her reading. There were wide lands between Rivendell and Hadhodron. "But I am committed to this task."
"It is a necessary one," Celebrían agreed. "And one that I am confident Lady Maedeth can complete."
"Indeed," Elrond said. He had been silent thus far, listening to each of his counselors with a stern frown. But now he just nodded, and extended a hand. "It is both necessary and appointed to her. But Lady Maedeth cannot go alone."
"I shall accompany her," Elladan said.
Maedeth watched as Elrond bit his lip. Celebrían's eyes closed with a deep breath, clasping her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Elladan continued before either could cut in. "My brother has left today to make contact with Rínior. I will accompany Lady Maedeth."
"Indeed. Elladan shall go with her. And though I had hoped to send you, Lord Glorfindel, I fear drawing more attention to them than is necessary," Elrond said. "The success of this mission lies not in strength of arms but in secrecy and in hope. Especially while so close to Rhudaur."
Maedeth released her held breath. She had feared that Elrond would chastise his son, would force him to stay behind when she wanted nothing more than to go with him on this journey. She smiled. He smiled back.
"I agree," she said, turning to Elrond. "And I appreciate your assistance. It cannot be understated how much your aid is needed. And I would be remiss in my duties if I did not, once again, beg aid of you for Arthedain." She frowned. "I know that already you send us herbs and other healing supplies for the war. But is there anything more that can be done?"
Elrond nodded. He gestured to Celebrían. "My wife spoke to me already of the needs of Arthedain. And while we cannot spare fighters with Rhudaur constantly pressing on our borders, we are going to send as much food stores as can be spared."
"I will accompany the caravan north," Gildor told her. "Glorfindel shall remain to lead the defense of Rivendell but my company longs for the road. This will allow us all some measure of enjoyment in such a dark hour."
Maedeth grinned, and bowed low to all of them. "Thank you, lords. And Lady."
"We must all do what we can in these dark times," Elrond told her. "With each age, a new evil arises. Morgoth, then Sauron, and now the Witch-king."
"And though with each war our losses grow," said Glorfindel, "we still fight on. For some day, we shall dispel this darkness forever and Elbereth's light will grow."
They fell into a moment of silence. Maedeth tried to imagine a world without death, without war, without famines and plagues and all the despair that faced her with each dawn. She wished to reach out and grasp it. But alas. The warmth in the air that had come with Glorfindel's words dispersed when Elrond returned them to the conversation at hand.
"We must now decide when you are to depart," Elrond said.
"I wish to leave as soon as may be."
He nodded. "I agree. But this is what we must determine. Erestor?"
"The food and horses will not be difficult to make ready," he said. "I began to prepare last night upon Maedeth's arrival. But it would be prudent to send out scouts before they leave."
"The wolves of the Misty Mountains are multiplying in Eregion," Gildor said. "My company and I spent three months there not long ago."
Maedeth frowned. Wolves, orcs, men aligned with the Witch-king, and men without their own dark desires would stand between her and her goal. She knew how to hold a sword but had rarely used it. Doubtless she would have to bloody a blade before the end of this trek.
"But we have maintained the border along the Bruinen for quite a ways," Glorfindel told her. "This should make the initial departure easier at least."
Elrond placed several maps on a nearby table. For hours, they poured over them and debate the best course. While they may have found more safety going straight over the High Pass out of Rivendell and then down south along the mountains, the encroach of winter made it impossible. So they would have to brave the southward road through and beside what was once Cardolan into Eregion.
In the end, it was decided she and Elladan would set out the next morning, with two horses known to be sure-footed in the hills. Maedeth, exhausted already from debating their next move and from staying up most of the night reading, retreated towards her chambers. Her eyes closed as she walked. But As she reached the Guest House, Elladan flagged her down.
"They are still going on, you know," Elladan said, nearly laughing as he spoke of Erestor and Gildor. "Those two never agree on anything."
Maedeth chuckled. She leaned against the archway over the door to her chambers. "It would strip Rivendell of entertainment, I fear, if they always got along."
He laughed much harder. "Right you are."
"Tell me, though. I am surprised your father gave you leave to go-"
Elladan scoffed. "He did not."
Before Maedeth could respond, two voices lifted up from further down the path. They called for him to hurry up. Glorfindel was one, it sounded like. He called back to them that he would join them shortly.
She stared up at him in confusion. He stood some five or six inches taller, with dark hair shining in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees. "What do you mean? Are you not going?" Fear gripped her heart, and she felt the wind knocked from her chest.
"Oh, no, Maedeth. I didn't mean that." He must've seen the fear in her eyes, for he put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "No. I meant only that I did not ask to go. I told him I was going."
She could breathe again. Maedeth closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand on her sleeve. Thank the Valar. She already knew this mission teetered on the edge of hopeless. She did not want to face it without him.
Elladan backed up, a tiny smirk on his face as he went to go join the others. "I said that if he forbade me, I would simply take the fastest horse and follow in Glorfindel's trail."
Maedeth grinned. She watched as he gave a wink and turned away. Butterflies filled her stomach, a welcome change though strange from the usual deep pit of darkness. She smiled down at the door handle. That was that, then. She and Elladan would go. And she and Elladan would succeed.