bold is used for emphasis
Chapter 3:
Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A.
Sídhiel awoke, disoriented and aching, her muscles stiff from lying on the cool, moist ground. It was not yet daybreak, dawn’s first light seeming still to be hours away. She sat up and groaned as she began to work out her muscles. A deep restlessness and yearning welled up in her, fueling her desire to continue the search; however, Anor would not rise for some time and the swamp was treacherous enough by day, so she had to quell her urge to leave.
Doubting that she could fall asleep again, Sídhiel attempted to soothe her jangling nerves by again testing her link with Gildor, hoping that he was no longer walled off from her. She relaxed and delved deep inside herself to the continuous flame that burned at her core. Once finding it, she stretched out her mind and began to seek him. Finally, she felt a light presence, calm and quiescent as though asleep, but still blocked from her. The knowledge that he was most likely safe, calmed her nerves slightly, but she worried as to why he would deny her access to his mind. Fretting and freeing her mind to roam, she eventually fell into a dreamless slumber.
As her eyes opened, Sídhiel realized that she was no longer in the swamp, but instead she was in a place she had only been in twice before. Sitting up, she looked for the lord of this garden, knowing he would soon arrive.
Sídhiel was not disappointed for, in a few short minutes, the dark haired lord walked up, smiling brightly at her. She immediately stood and bowed, not daring to speak before being spoken to. Being the lesser here, she knew she should not have raised her body until allowed to, but her frustration overcame her years of training, and she met silver eyes with questions in her dark, blue ones.
“Please, my child, you know me well enough to relax and put away the formalities. Come. Sit with me on this bench by the stream. We have much to discuss.”
“My Lord Irmo, to what do I owe the honor of being allowed to visit the incomparable gardens of Lórien again?” Sídhiel heard the sarcasm in her voice and cringed. Closing her eyes tightly, she clamped down on the apprehension that was swelling inside her.
“Sídhiel, it has been awhile since we last met. I would like to inquire as to how you have been.” The Vala reached to brush wavy tendrils from her face, but she turned away, and stood.
As the words began tumbling from her mouth, the Peredhel paced. “My Lord, please do not think me ungracious, but I know full well that you did not bring me here to discuss pleasantries. I have been here exactly twice before in my lifetime, and neither could be considered pleasant experiences for me.” She trembled with foreboding, her weakness causing her to be angry with herself. Sídhiel continued sharply, “This is about Gildor is it not? What do you request of me this time?”
Irmo pursed his lips at her tone, but answered lightly, “I simply want you to return to the campsite. The rest of your party needs to know that you are well so that they will not attempt to follow you into the swamp. I ask no hardship of you; just do not follow Gildor to the culmination of his search.”
Sídhiel whirled on him, her eyes flashing angrily, “No hardship? How can you say that? I am simply to walk away? Forget that Gildor is most likely somewhere in that damnable swamp with Maglor?” She clenched her fists at her sides, attempting to keep her composure, but the dawning realization of what was being asked of her, and the inevitability of it was shredding her self-control.
Suddenly, strong arms embraced her from behind. Sídhiel stiffened, but the Vala gently turned her and pulled her against his chest. Even though she tried to hold them back, tears flowed down her cheeks. “Sweet one, you yourself had considered this very possibility when you agreed to aid his search. If Gildor had asked it of you, were you not willing?”
Sídhiel struggled to pull away, “Stay out of my thoughts! Damn it! Do I have nothing that is mine and mine alone?” She flopped to the grass and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her head on her knees. “Can I not just return your blasted ‘gift’ and be done with this?”
“This has nothing to do with your gift. You have done all that is asked of you in the past and for that we are grateful. But there is this last thing you will do; step out of the weaving of Gildor’s life.”
His words sundered her fëa, but she called on countless years of training to keep from crying out. “My Lord? I must know…” she hesitated. “Was it so easy for him? Was I instantly forgotten when his eyes looked upon his first love once again?”
“You are not forgotten. I have clouded his most recent life in his mind. He sees his past through a mist of his present. This is painful for you, I know, but it is necessary.” Irmo looked upon her stricken visage with compassion, but the tone of his voice left no doubt as to the outcome. Sídhiel would concede and agree to whatever they asked of her, yet again.
“Of course, Híren, as you wish. May I rest here, alone, for awhile longer?” Her voice was flat and barely audible, even to the Vala’s acute hearing.
“Stay as long as you desire. I will provide food and drink. Just call when you wish to return.” The Vala reached down to lightly stroke her hair as he walked past her. “Námarië, Sídhiel.”
Believing she was alone, Sídhiel lay down in the grass curled up in a fetal position, her body racked by silent sobs.
Estë clucked her tongue as her husband, Irmo, approached. “That was cruel of you. Why did you not tell her the fullness of it?”
“My dear, why do you assume that there is more than what I relayed to her?”
“You are not serious? You demand that she give up her mate in favor of another and you do not tell her the whole of it? How do you expect her to react? She has always been impetuous, what is to prevent her from doing something extremely rash now? She could easily end up in Mandos’ Halls and where would that leave your plotting?”
“She is too stubborn and head strong. If she thought that he was not lost to her, she would never cease her search. She had already found a manner in which she could locate them that I am unable to counter. Nay. She will not know all of it. It is too soon.” Irmo was adamant in his refusal, and in his firmness, he missed his wife’s expression.
“Ah, meleth nín, go take your rest. I know how these things always tire you out. I will see to Sídhiel’s needs and return her when she is ready.” Estë said, as she leaned up and gave a soft kiss to her husband before walking away.
Estë silently walked up to Sídhiel. She waved her hands over the still sobbing form, and the elleth was instantly placed into a deep slumber. Kneeling down, the Vala brushed stray locks from Sídhiel’s tear stained face and whispered, “Rest, my child. You have a long road ahead of you, but the end will be worth your effort.”
Gildor stretched languidly as dappled light streamed in the windows and eased him back to awareness. His body was sore, wonderfully sore, and very sticky, ensuring that he did not forget who owned him once again. The dark elf came into the cottage and smiled wistfully at the sensuous picture before him. The golden ellon was laid out nude on furs and pillows, his fair skin liberally covered with evidence of the previous nights activities. As he sat up and stretched, his hair fell forward, obscuring his features. Maglor felt himself harden at the wanton scene, but he wanted to bathe first, and felt that the blond would too. “Meleth? Would you care to bathe with me? I have laid out soaps and oils by the hot spring behind the hut. It feels truly wonderful on overworked muscles.”
Tossing his hair over his shoulder, and standing, Gildor replied, “That sounds heavenly.” He reached for the dark elf’s outstretched hand. “Lead on, melethron.”
Gildor sank into the water, allowing the intense heat to soothe his aches, a blissful sigh escaping his lips. Maglor reclined against one of the sides with his long legs stretched out under the surface, while he watched his lover through half-lidded eyes. Once the blond resurfaced, after dunking himself to completely wet his hair, the dark elf motioned to him. “Come here and I shall tend to your hair and back.”
As he was being lovingly washed, memories of joyous times spent in his lover’s care flooded Gildor’s mind, but one thing was missing. “I have yet to hear your voice, seron vell. Sing for me?”
The second son of Fëanor’s heart swelled at the earnest request and, after briefly contemplating which song he would sing, he began to croon the haunting, melancholy song he had composed after sending his beloved away.
The golden ellon turned to face his lover when he heard the first strains of the unfamiliar melody. Once he realized that the mournful song was created for him, Gildor closed his eyes against the pain of countless millennia apart. Leaning into the strong chest, he reveled in the deep voice rumbling against his ear.
As the haunting notes faded away, Gildor gazed at the face of his lover, whose eyes were tightly closed. “If you truly felt that way, why did you force me to leave?” The blond was puzzled by the strong emotions of the song, and although he had always suspected the true reason, he needed to hear the words from his lover’s lips.
Clasping the blond tightly to his chest, Maglor breathed deeply, for his lover deserved nothing less than the truth. “I knew what Maedhros had planned, but I did not dream we would be successful. I just expected that we would die right there and that blasted oath would have taken its due.” Opening his eyes to stare into Gildor’s, he continued after a short pause, “I needed to know that you were safe, that no harm would come to you, otherwise I could not have faced what was to come.”
“But…” The dark elf pressed a finger to Gildor’s lips.
“Shhh. You may not believe this, but it was all for the best. We both went mad when we finally held the jewels. Even now I can see my brother’s face, no sanity left in his eyes, as he jumped into that fiery crevasse.” Gildor’s strong arms wrapped around the dark elf, giving him comfort, pulling him back to the present. “I could not stop him, and in truth, I did not even try. I still bear the scar from holding that accursed thing. Everything else healed with time, even my mind, but not my hand. It is an ever constant reminder, of everything and everyone that was destroyed and unmade.”
Maglor tilted his head down and pressed a light kiss to the blond’s lips. “Scoot up out of the water with me. I find I am becoming overheated and, from your face, you are as well.”
As both ellyn moved to sit on the top ledge, the morning air caressed their wet bodies and began to cool them off. They sat, back to back, in quiet contemplation. Gildor’s head was full of so many questions, but he could wait before pressing for further answers.
Faron looked up from the fire as he heard a disgusted grunt, and there, tiredly dragging into camp, were four bedraggled elves led by Doron. They had set out at dawn to follow Gildor and Sídhiel and trail them into the swamp, but had come back empty handed. “Doron, what has happened? Why are you here without them?” All four elves stiffened at his tone, realizing that they had let not only their captain down, but also the lord and lady. They stood, silently, waiting for the report to be delivered.
Doron turned an exhausted visage to his captain and attempted to straighten to deliver the details of his failed mission. “Sir, the lady’s trail was initially quite easy to follow. It did not seem that she had made any attempt to hide her path, so I was quite confident that we could catch her before nightfall. However, we came to a point where she must have taken a rest break and then completely lost her. The trail we followed from that point onward only led us back here.”
Faron watched as his best trackers stood stiffly, totally defeated, and keenly feeling their failure. The captain did not understand what could have happened, for Sídhiel was no wood elf and could not conceal her tracks if she had been trying. In puzzlement, he asked, “You tracked her so far and then followed the same trail in reverse? I know your skills, how is this even possible?”
Doron came to the trackers’ defense immediately. “Sir, it is not their fault. We were all certain that we were continuing to follow a new trail forward, but there must be an enchantment in that place.” Looking directly into his captain’s eyes, he continued, “I heard the Loon again, just after we found her resting place. I believe our confusion stems in some way from that birdcall, as though it bewitched our senses.”
The captain was uncertain what to think, but he did concede, if only to himself, that something odd must be occurring, for their lady was not skilled at concealment nor tracking, so how else to explain that she just vanished? “Did you find any sign of our lord? Any indication at all that he went into the swamp?”
Shaking his head, the overtired ellon replied, “No, no sign at all, but, in truth, I did not expect to be able to track him. This is Gildor Inglorion we are speaking of.”
Looking about the camp, Faron realized that he would have to handle this situation carefully, for none of the group would happily leave without their lord and lady; however he did have his orders if something like this occurred. “Doron, would you walk with me?” Nodding toward the others, he said, “The rest of you eat and sleep. We will decide our next steps at Anor’s first light.”
When both ellyn were far enough out of camp that their words would not be overheard, Faron began, “Meldir, had Gildor ever mentioned to you his concerns for this quest?”
“Nay, he never spoke a word to me, and the lady only mentioned one thing, that they were searching for someone and not something, a critical distinction, I would wager.” Doron always marveled at how much his lady could talk without ever actually revealing any information. He assumed it was a habit learned from long years as a diplomat.
“Well that is actually less important than the oath that our lord made me give before we even set out upon this search. I do not believe our lady knew of it, but Gildor would not consent to our joining them unless I first agreed.”
“What oath do you speak of?” The younger guard was confused, for this information had never been discussed before, not once in over two decades.
Sighing, Faron said, “If something ever happened to our lord, we were to immediately stop the search and get the lady to safety in Dol Amroth.” Sensing that Doron was going to interrupt, Faron shook his head and continued, “If both were to go missing, we were to spend no more than a single cycle of the moon searching, and then take ourselves to Dol Amroth. There will be instructions in the great library there.”
Stunned at his captain’s words, Doron looked into light grey eyes, and began pleading, “But, Faron, that is not long enough to completely search this place! You cannot mean to leave them here?”
“Of course I would not leave them here! But, if we cannot find them in that time, what options do I have? I swore to our lord that I would do as he bid. I cannot break my oath!” Scrubbing his hands over his face, Faron grimaced at the ellon in front of him. Doron’s clothes were filthy and torn in places, and it was obvious that the younger elf needed a bath, food, and a good night’s sleep. “Forgive me, mellon nín, you are exhausted. I should not have brought this up at this time. We can discuss it further after you have rested.”
As he turned to walk away, Faron felt a tentative touch on his shoulder. Turning back, he met light blue eyes, “Hannon le for sharing your burden with me, it is an honor that you trust me. We will not fail them.” Doron was overcome by his own weariness, but the look in his captain’s eyes stirred something he had been suppressing, and he clasped arms with the taller elf as he touched their foreheads together, trying to give the captain his unwavering support and some modicum of comfort.
As consciousness returned to Sídhiel, she realized that she was lying in a comfortable bed instead of still being on the ground by the stream. Once fully awake, a dull ache flooded Sídhiel’s core and she curled up into a ball. Her mind clouded by the pain; red-rimmed eyes peered up into warm green ones, as she gritted her teeth and asked, “My Lady, will it get worse? This pain, I mean.”
Estë frowned at Sídhiel’s state and reached to stroke her cheek. The Vala’s confusion was evident as she asked, “Why should it worsen, my child?”
“When… when…” Sídhiel stammered. “When Gildor severs our bond. I cannot bear it. Please. Just end it now.” She was sobbing again.
Pulling the distraught elleth into her arms, Estë rubbed her back, and tried to soothe her fears. “My child, believe me, all will be well. This pain will cease if you will but listen, and trust me.” She continued as Sídhiel struggled to catch her breath, “Do not fear the dissolution of your bond. I cannot speak more plainly, but, in this, you must trust me.”
The comforting embrace Estë was providing seemed to ease the pain and grounded Sídhiel, thus she was able to regain a small measure of composure before stating, “But, Lord Irmo… he demanded that I leave the tapestry of Gildor’s life.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes and leaned into the Vala’s warmth, “I cannot live without him, my Lady. If that is the Valar’s demand, then I do not desire to draw further breath.”
Estë lifted Sídhiel’s chin, “Open your eyes and look at me, child.” She did as commanded. “My husband’s exact words were ‘step out of the weaving of Gildor’s life’ were they not?” Sídhiel nodded slightly. The Vala then continued in a hushed voice, “But did he specify for how long?”
Sídhiel’s eyes widened at Estë’s words. “Why are you aiding me?”
“My child, I am called Estë the Gentle for a reason. I do not travel to your world, for there is too much pain and anguish and I could not bear it. You are here and hurting, so I want to help you.”
“Hannon le.” Sídhiel replied quietly, a small bloom of hope flaring in her breast.
The Vala released Sídhiel and stood up as she was speaking, “Stay here and rest, refresh yourself. Enjoy all that is available here and in the gardens. I will return to check on you later.”
Estë left and Sídhiel began to examine her surroundings. She noticed that she was in a small cottage with light streaming in from the large leaded glass windows across the room. There was a small bathing chamber behind a partially open door, an unlit fireplace with pale floral pillows piled before it, an overstuffed settee, and comfortable, upholstered chairs surrounding a table laden with food and drink. The entire cottage was decorated in light wood and floral fabrics, lending it an open, summery feel.
The Vala’s presence had given Sídhiel strength and lessened her pain, but Estë’s words had provided immeasurable comfort. Feeling better, she took the opportunity to bathe. The chamber was small with a sunken tub, but the taps provided warm water and there were many wonderfully scented oils and soaps. Sídhiel indulged herself, as it had been a long while since she had access to such luxuries, and she stayed in the bath until she was practically dozing in the, by now cool, water. Rising from the tub, she shivered, and quickly covered her body and hair with the soft, thick towels provided. Planning to eat something, she walked toward the food, but the settee beckoned. She stretched out, quickly succumbing to her exhaustion, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
When Sídhiel awoke, it was dark in the little cottage, but candles had been lit throughout, bathing the room in soft, flickering light. Realizing that she was still clad only in towels, Sídhiel grimaced as it dawned on her what a mass of tangles her hair must be. Her stomach chose that moment to make itself known, so she arose to dress, finding that a beautiful light grey shift had been laid out on the bed. Assuming it was for her, she quickly donned it and attempted to run her fingers through her hair. It was an impossible chore at the moment and, since her hunger was growing, she gave up on her appearance and walked to the table.
As Sídhiel finished a light meal, for she had very little appetite, Estë walked in and sat with her. The Vala surveyed the Peredhel and clucked her tongue at the state she was in. “My child, it is obvious that you need more recovery time. These gardens are beautiful and quite soothing to the battered soul, especially when Ithil’s light bathes everything in silver and shadow. Come and take a walk with me.”
As the Vala showed Sídhiel all the sights of her garden by night, the Peredhel realized that the magic of Lórien was soothing her cares and helping to mend the hole in her heart.
TBC
Translations:
Anor – sun
fëa – soul
híren – my lord
Námarië – good bye (Quenya)
meleth nín – my love
meleth – love
melethron – lover (male)
seron vell – beloved
meldir – my friend
mellon nín – my friend
hannon le – thank you
Ithil – moon