| Naucoaran |
on: July 09, 2014 06:13
|
|
(Joint post between Carandra and I.)
After the meeting with Elrond, Sirion had only a few pressing interests that tugged at him before the feast. His first stop was home. It was much as he had left it, only the lightest layer of dust covering his belongings. He had friends here in Imlandris, elves he could count on for support and taking care of his possessions even when he was away.
The thought comforted him. It gave him a sense of freedom that let him know that, if he ever did feel the need to depart again somewhere that things would be taken care of. His fingers ran over the top of a polished table, dragging lines through the dust and revealing the shine underneath. He rubbed his fingertips together then blew the excess off, the particles dancing in a moat of light. He watched the chaotic specks drift, flowing about in haphazard patterns before, as all things must, settling down once again. A smile crossed his lips as he watched the last speck in the light finally settle on the floorboards.
A strange feeling of peace washed over him. He knew that the journey had forever changed him. At one time he thought it had completely smothered his flame for adventure. Perhaps it was only reduced to a smoulder, awaiting someone to breathe more life into the flame again. Had he found that person? He thought he had, but things seemed to move fast all of the sudden, when once they had been only subtle feelings.
He continued on through the back door of his home, the small attached forge sitting unused in the back. His tools here too had been cared for, regular oiling and weather treatment to protect his workspace. The furnace stood cold, stocked with coke for the next work period but not yet lit. He yearned to feel the flame again, to feel the vibrations of metal under his hammer, hear the ping of steel on steel. He wanted to mold things to his will again, instead of be at the will of the world. He had been forged anew himself over what seemed like an eternity, but was unsure if the results tempered his will or made it brittle.
Time passed all too quickly and soon enough it was time to attend the feast, regale the others of their heroics. He almost didn’t go, but he did not want to invoke the ire of Elrond or the other hosts of the feast held partially in his honor. He ended up dressing in a light grey tunic trimmed in dark blue, taking delight in the feeling of clean clothes against clean skin.
------------
Mithennor awoke sometime in the late afternoon, the breeze from the open windows blowing gently across her face. For an instant she had forgotten where she was after the many months of trials and trails. Since leaving Elrond’s presence she had been fed, bathed and finally allowed to rest after her few lingering hurts were tended to, the healers had looked sadly at her many scars.
After laying still on her bed, simply enjoying the moment, she rose and the coverlet that had been covering her slid off as she moved from the chaise upon which she had been dozing. Someone had pulled out one of the chairs from the small table in the center of the room, and across its back was draped some grey material. Upon the table itself sat her mother’s combs that she had worn all that time ago when she first arrived in Imladris, before she had even heard of the stone... She gazed upon them; so much had changed since then; even she had changed in that brief and yet so long duration. Near them was a silver pitcher of clear water, a goblet, and a bowl with pears. She drew the robe around her as she fell into the other chair, plucking a pear from the bowl she inspected it, learning intimately it’s every color variation and change in its topography before taking her first bite. The skin split and the juice burst into her mouth, whether the reason was because it had been some time since she had savored her favorite fruit or some other reason, it was the most delicious pear she had ever had. She ate it slowly, paying attention only to her senses as far as this fruit was concerned; ignoring the dress and the time of day utterly until first pear and then a second were devoured.
She left the cores on the table, eyeing the dress warily. Finally, noting how low the sun had sunk, she rose and fingered the material, which was fine, silk so soft that she almost did not feel it as it slid through her hands. It was a deep silver, and as she put it on, she found that the back was cut low so as to display her scars. She debated changing into the green dress she had left here, and nearly did so, but as she turned her back to the mirror, she caught sight of her silhouette; the way the fabric draped low in the back and hung from her shoulders... and for a moment, she wished Sirion to see it (she turned a touch pink at the thought, but fought the feeling away).
Dawning a simple pair of slipper and pulling her short hair back with her combs, she departed her room on light feet and headed for the feast. The larders of Imladris did not disappoint, and she was seated with her other companions, who were likewise refreshed in body if not wholly in spirit. Thane was well into his cups when Mithennor joined the throng and he spared her not a glance. Not even when they were each called upon to share what they could about their trials and travails. There were murmurs and gasps, and Mithennor knew that many saw the scars upon her back, and lamented at her pains. For reasons she did not fathom, this angered her, though she kept her feelings to herself. They were not there to suffer with her, nor were they the ones that risked their own lives to rescue her when it would not have been unforgivable to abandon her and consider dead (which had been a risk accepted when she agreed to quest).
Time passed, there was singing and some dancing, and perhaps before Mithennor would have been stirred to join in, now she wished this all over... she rose, grabbed a pear from another dish and slipped out of the hall as unnoticed as she could manage.
The feast was grand, with all the accoutrement as called for a celebration. Even with all the finery in sight, Sirion kept finding his gaze pulled to Mithennor. She stood proud, wearing her scars in the open despite the hushed whispers of the elves who sighted it. She looked wonderful, and the thought sent a giddy shiver down his spine. After a reasonable amount of time he noticed Mithennor slip out the back discreetly. He waited an appropriate time after she disappeared before following suit.
Out in the gardens, it was quiet and cool, and there she found the solitude she had been seeking. Gazing up at a tree, she nudged her shoes off and, minding her dress, climbed up and settled herself into the boughs. Rolling the fruit between her hands contemplatively, she stared at the leaves surrounding her, how they moved lightly in the faint breezes, savoring the sweet and wholesome scents that lingered in the air here, enjoying the smooth bark upon the uneven surface of her back. She could.. leave in the morning, though the thought that once she relished now made her pause. Perhaps... she could stay for a brief while more, before returning to Lothlorien, though the idea of taking to the roads again right away likewise did not appeal to her. She had thoughts several months ago of lingering beneath the golden boughs... and that desire was still there, very much so. But... there was a conflict now, one with blue eyes.
Would he ever consider leaving here to see Lothlorien? To perhaps dwell within those boughs, even if temporarily? Could he stand to leave his forge?
but conversely... could she bare to remain stationary for his sake? Once she had thought the answer to be a vehement ‘no’ but now? She felt unsure, even more so with the realization that she desired to stay in Lothlorien for time undetermined, she assumed that eventually she’d leave, as she had always done before.
the elleth was suddenly aware that she was not alone, and there, by the base of the tree, was the subject of her thoughts, staring up at her. A small smile played softly upon his features, mingled with concern around his eyes, and she smiled back if tentatively. Sirion held one of her slippers hooked on his finger before letting it drop back to the ground with its pair-mate.
“if not apples...” she trailed off, the attempt at levity dissipating. She sidled her way further out on her bough, and gestured to the now vacant space beside her.
“will you come up?”
the smile grew broader, though he eyed the branches warily and Mithennor chuckled. But this time the ellon made it safely up the branches. “I see that I am not the only one the pomp and flair is wasted on, though I appreciate their good intentions.” he said lightly as he settled on the branch, wary that it might come crashing down again to repeat the last time they sat in a tree together.
A few moments of silence broken by idle chatter passed before he said “You look quite stunning tonight, the dress I mean.” He suddenly felt foolish, a reminder that he had once again tread somewhere he had previously put aside as secondary to his apprenticeship. He ran a finger over one of the scars on her back, “It looks good on you, is what I meant.”
She lay her hand on top of his, and he moved his fingers to capture hers, unsure of what to say, but eventually she settled for asking after his forge. He seemed momentarily taken aback by the sudden change in conversation, but replied with a smile, “Just as I had left it, plus a little dust.” He glanced down at their hands, fingers interwoven. “It seems that it had not needed my care so diligently, after all. I had those here to care for it in my absence, who can care for it if I need to leave again.” As he finished his eyes wandered to hers, locking for a brief moment. A small smile appeared and Mithennor realized she had been holding her breath ever so slightly, but then it faded as she looked away for a moment, out into the valley, and to the paths that led beyond.
“I... still need to return to Lorien, to fulfill my oath to my Lady of Light” she turned back to face him, eyes searching. “I... do not have to leave immediately, and I will return with all due haste” she hesitated a moment “perhaps when next I return... you could accompany me?”
At the news of her departure, an involuntary tightness took hold of his throat. He consciously suppressed it, knowing that the elleth in front of him could not only hold her own, but would not abandon what had formed between them. “I think I might like that,” his thoughts stretching over the time she would be gone. “As long as the path I tread is shared with yours.” he finished with a smile, fingers giving hers a light squeeze. “We still have time to rest before you depart. Perhaps I’ll show you what drew me, before our journey began.”
A that she smiled again, looking down at their hands “I would like that very much”
----
The following weeks seemed to flow one into the other, each of which passed seemingly before their due course had been run. Mithennor passed as much time in the forge with Sirion as she did anywhere else within the valley; watching Sirion work at the forge, learning what she could of the craft to which he had dedicated his life to; how he approached each piece with an apprehension born from respect not just of the material, but out of the potential of what it could be.
She saw the others of her comrades, spending some time with them as well. Thane seemed to retreat back into his old habits. She tried to avert both her eyes and thoughts from the matter, but it still pained her.
Soon though, the dawn rose, and with the lengthening of the dawn shadows, she mounted her horse and left, promising to return soon. She kept her farewells as brief as she could, though the one she gave to Sirion was primarily one that was given in silence, punctuated with her promise to return soon. As she crested the hill, she gave one last look over her shoulder and urged her horse onwards.
|
|
| Dinenlasse |
|
| Fennuir |
|
| Carandra |
on: October 07, 2014 06:10
|
|
((a three-way post between Naucoaran, Ohtariel, and myself.))
The half elf had only spent a day in Imladris at the beginning of their trip, before being whisked away on their trying journey. He had spent that first and last night as Sirion’s guest. This time around, Thane’s shadow never touched his friend’s doorstep. Thane had hoped to avoid the long vacant living quarters his mother had left behind, but he knew better than to pass out by his wine goblet in public around Imladris. After meeting with Elrond, Thane visited the kitchens and walked out with two jugs of wine. The cook attempted to fence the half elf with a large soup ladle for stealing, but didn't give chase outside his workplace.
He brought his earnings back to his family home, but hesitated outside the door. Thane turned the handle and toed the door wide open. Someone was still keeping the rooms in order, but that seemed to be all. Thane didn’t know why Elrond just didn't let anyone else move in. He was never here and his only living parent had sailed west long ago. As much as he disliked the place, Thane decided he could tolerate it for as long as it took to finish his drinks. He stepped over the threshold and locked the door behind him.
~
A few days after the feast, when things began to settle down once again into routine, Sirion was confronted by Lindir. “A word alone, Sirion, if I may.” Lindir had tried to approach him alone, but there had been few moments when Sirion and Mithennor had been apart after the feast. after a sideways glance at each other, the elleth departed, leaving SIrion and Lindir to themselves.
“Is there something wrong, friend?” SIrion asked as he poured a small goblet of wine for his guest.
“I believe you already know the answer to that question, Sirion. Though you seem to have been mending much after our return, there is one wound you failed to treat.” Lindir spoke with a diplomatic tone, though Sirion could detect a hint of scorn. “If you let this fester, it will become only harder to heal. Better to start everything fresh.”
The other elf had sat in silence as Lindir spoke, occasionally twisting his lips into a half formed rebuttal before smothering it. He saw wisdom in the advice, though he did not wish to follow it. “Our people should never be separated by some disagreement, no matter how important it may seem at the time.” With his final words, and after Sirion’s continued silence, Lindir finished his drink, and then left.
Some time later that same day, Sirion found his feet placed on the doorstep of Thane’s old house. He had almost turned around three times now, but at each opportunity he pushed himself forward. He knocked twice to no answer, and then a third final time. The forceful sound of his fist on wood finally roused an angry epithet from within. Finally losing his patience, Sirion checked the latch on the door, and then forced his way in.
“It is time we ended this, Thane.” his stride took him into the gloomily lit building, the half elf sprawled on one of the couches, an empty bottle of wine lay on its side next to Thane. “We must settle this,” he hesitated “my...friend.” He grabbed Thane by his shoulder, as gently as he could, then turned him over to be face up.
Thane looked at Sirion with one eye shut, to make it easier to focus on a single spot. He brushed his mouth with the back of his hand and removed some drool from the corner of his lips. Sirion’s loud entrance had not disturbed the half elf’s slumber, turning him over barely got his attention.
“We discussed it briefly if I remember right,” Thane slurred lazily.
Sirion drew back the curtains to the small windows in the room, which only seemed to annoy the drunkard.
“Begone Sirion. What do you want from me?” Thane growled.
“I want…” What did he want? Earlier he had been content leaving Thane in his misery, why now was he here? With a sigh he continued, “I want your forgiveness. I’ve wounded you, and our friendship, which we both thought previously unshakeable. There was a bond between us once, and bonds like that should only strengthen when tempered, not break. I can fix many things, Thane, but I need your help with this.”
The half elf belched and cringed as if he tasted something awful. “You sound like Lindir. I suppose he sent you.” Thane pushed himself up to a sitting position on the couch. There was a large amount of alcohol coursing through his veins compelling him to get up and throw the door shut in Sirion’s face. But in his current state, Thane had to lean into his seat to remain in an upright position. This of course only added to his frustration. The half elf shifted his boot sideways to feel underneath the couch, looking for his runaway wine.
“I do not need your pity Sirion. Wherever does your guilt stem from? I see she did not come with you.” Thane swung his head around to stare at his doorway, not at all expecting to see Mithennor. It wasn’t in her nature to attend conflict.
“Pity did not call me here.” he had not yet sat down. He fetched a cup of water for the half elf before pulling a chair over to set in front of him. “I am here on my own accord, more or less.” He glanced at the doorway. Somewhere out there was Mithennor, but if she knew his intention or destination after he had left, it was only a suspicion. She might have guessed why Lindir had approached him, but Sirion had not seen her or discussed his intention since Lindir had appeared.
“I do not pity you Thane, not constantly, and not for reasons you assume. I once envied you. Your life was everything mine was not. I wanted to follow you, and ended up over my head. Our lives are two different organisms, Thane. I did not know if I would return, but I knew that your stubbornness would pull you through. However it ended, it was not my intention for us to be like this.”
Finally Sirion saw Thane as he was. A soldier with too much hate left in his heart to stand his own sober company. His own sickness and natural mannerisms made Thane a stranger in his own homeland. Lastly the ellon came to realize that Thane recognized none of it.
The half elf was silent for a moment as he drank deeply from his water goblet. “I know you did not.”
Thane remembered counseling Sirion as he joined the cause, even if he was inebriated. But things had been different then. Now his world felt shattered, though he knew it was not. “I think you should just go, Sirion.”
Sirion sat for a moment as Thane stared into his cup of water. He wanted to say more, to stay until things were made right again, but as he stared at Thane, he decided against it. The man across from him had no fight left in him. Thane was not a defeated man, he was just tired of the fight. A sense of calm and peace came over Sirion, and as he stood he placed a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Farewell, my friend.” he said softly, then walked out of the door.
As Sirion crossed the threshold, saddened that he could not bring his friend to remember their early years of brotherhood, something hard struck the back of his shoulder and water splashed his tunic. He turned to see Thane lying once again face down in the cushions, his water goblet at Sirion’s feet.
“We’ve carried better wine than that on our venture. See that you remember it next time you visit.” Half a smirk appeared briefly on Thane’s lips.
“Close the door on your way out.”
~
Knowing the road she would take out Thane sat atop his horse in the shade, just off the worn trail. He sighed, exhausted from his coping mechanism over the last couple days. It was early. But then, he knew it would have to be. Thane had never meant Mithennor or any of his comrades harm, though it did not mean that he hadn’t caused any. He would not see her off with Sirion present, and he believed that she would not see him otherwise. So the half elf waited in the early dawn. When finally he could see her silhouette on the horizon, Thane tensed. ‘Perhaps I should have just left it alone,’ he mused nervously to himself.
Her mount paused at his presence, and she looked up at him.
“Running off again, Mithennor?” he said quietly when she drew near enough.
Eyes widened in surprise, she turned to the voice. How she felt at seeing him, she could not pin down. Sorrow to be sure, relief, and had found that in some ways she had missed his companionship before.... before things got complicated. She had wanted to speak to him, but was always unsure of how or what to say... and so she quite simply had not.
“My journey is not wholly finished until I report to my Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn” it came out stiffer than she had intended, but her initial response had been something biting, which she did not mean- but found that old habits were hard to shake.
she shook her head, sighing “I’ll be back in a few months time” looking to meet his eyes “were you wanting to see the golden wood yourself?”
Thane dismounted, “I am heading back to Dunland to find work. I would not be a welcome sight in Lothlorien any time after. Perhaps the Lossoth were right. I am a carrion crow by nature.”
The half elf chuckled awkwardly before growing quiet. “I do not believe our paths will cross again Mithennor. I have no plans of returning. I handed over the deeds to my family property before I left.”
She dismounted as well, closing the distance in long strides until she stood close to him, folding her arms across her chest. “And you were accusing me of running away” her brows furrowed, primarily concern on her expression, but perhaps intermingled with a breath of exasperation.
“you seem to labor under the idea that you are not capable or are not of any worth, and then when you live up to your own expectations it suddenly becomes validation and the fault of all others around you” she looked down and then back up at him.
Thane gently reached under her chin and held Mithennor’s gaze. “Hush.” He said stiffly. “I did not come here to fight. Neither did I go out of my way to avoid you.”
“Would you really have me stay?” disbelief obvious in his voice. “I am going where I am best suited… as are you.”
He released her. “There is no blame.”
“there was never any intention to cause you pain, nor to rend your friendship.” She chewed her lip uncertainly.
“but whether you may will it or not, there are bonds that bind us. All of us, in some form or another. And whether you may like this or not, you will never be far from my thoughts.”
She studied his face once more, laying a hand on his cheek.
“and I would not have you stay if it was against your will, but I would see you happy, in some capacity.”
Thane had not known what to expect from Mithennor as he awaited her arrival, and he felt even less equipped to handle the situation now. It was not in the half elf’s nature to go beyond the search for pleasurable things. He was a soldier, trained to expect that one day his luck would run out and his number would be called. Thane took her hand from his cheek and pressed the elleth’s fingers to his lips, in the same fashion that had been shown at their first meeting. As he looked Mithennor in the eyes, he wondered if the elleth knew that she was not just some pleasurable and disposable thing for a soldier to chase. Thane also knew in his heart that it was not his place to tell her.
“Lindir and Idhrenniel are now both gone. Sirion is where he belongs and soon you will be too. I believe we go to find our own peace. Mine will be with my brothers, where it always has been.” Thane pulled Mithennor into a hug and held her quietly for a moment.
“I promise I will miss you. Though I know you have good reason to put little stock in my oaths.”
“you found me. It is I that failed you in that regard... I promise that I’ll trust to this last oath of yours.”
It was hard to say for how long they held one another, for although Thane initiated the embrace, the elleth returned it. Eventually they let one another go, it was easy to tell... looking upon his face, where her heart might have turned one way instead of the other; and where that point was even she was unsure. But paths and rivers were only meant to be trod upon once, and so she tried to shake herself of those thoughts. Mithennor hoped that perhaps he might know, somewhere within him, that although affections might have lead her to another, that there was still a great well of affection for the half-elf, and whatever heartache and hesitation she caused, she regretted.
“Well…” Thane said at long last, as he held Mithennor at arms length. “Your Lady waits.” He left her a moment and took hold of her horse’s reins. The beast backed and turned obediently at Thane’s behest. The half elf laced his fingers together, knelt expectantly and waited to help Mithennor into the saddle. He knew it annoyed her when treated this way, but Thane did not care. It surprised him a little when she stepped up into his hands and vaulted onto the horse, though he made no mention of it.
Thane returned to his mare and found his own seat. “Goodbye Mithennor.” The words almost came out in a stutter, but the half elf had said his piece and was unsure of where to go from there.
“Goodbye Thane.” she returned quietly, and turned her mount south. The road was long, and there were no quick passages to her destination. Remaining here would only breed confusion and doubt for both.
The half elf watched her depart until she made the tree line, when it occurred to him that perhaps he had one last gift to give her.Thane put his heels to his mount. The mare spooked a little at the sudden command but surged forward. When they caught up, he slowed to a trot behind Mithennor. The mare, who had always been a bit of a biter, pinned her ears angrily at the thought of being the last in a pack line and nipped hard at the rear of Mithennor’s horse.
“Thane! What are you doing?” she exclaimed as her mount bucked and hopped about.
The half elf chuckled, the first mirth filled sound he had made in months. When the she elf regained control of her horse, Thane charged her again. And his final chase with the elleth began.
They made for the south road towards Tharbad, riding hard for the day. Thane slowed as they approached the crossroads. Having already said their goodbyes, Thane locked eyes for the last time with the elleth who was destined to be only his friend. He merely nodded, and she turned and rode off for her homeland. Thane sighed when she was lost from his sight. “Half man, half elf.” he muttered to himself. “Half a fool.”
Thane shook his head and turned his mount. One last quick spur sent the mare off towards the encampment of Thane’s masters. Off towards his next adventure.
Mon coeur est genre, mais je suis un monster.
(My heart is kind, but I am a monster.)
|
|
| Carandra |
|
| Naucoaran |
|
| Ohtariel |
|
Author
