A little seasonal fic.....
Dec. 23rd, 2005 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sildilA little seasonal fic....
Title: Redemption
Rating: G
Pairing: None....yes, believe it or not, NO SMUT!
Warning: None
Disclaimer: Characters are all Tolkien’s not mine, I am just playing with them and will put them back nicely afterwards.
Timeline: Post-Fellowship
Summary: A young couple in need and a mysterious rescuer.
Redemption
My valley glistened with snow. Thin ice covered the river and hung in long spikes from bare tree and bush, all was silent save for the occasional crack of an icicle as its weight grew too heavy and it fell to the floor piercing the cold earth.
This once green and mild gorge was now overgrown and bleak. Rocks had tumbled long ago into the river and paths once walked daily by elves dressed in fine silks and velvets had fallen to the valley below and were near impassable now that the Eldar had left for their home in the West, their protection with them.
I said all was silent, but this was not true. A young couple, both swathed in dark woollen cloaks, struggled along the wooded sides of my valley obviously searching for a refuge for the night. I had watched them for some time, reluctant to offer my home, such as it was, and wary of their intrusion, but when the woman slipped on the icy path and her partner scooped her in his arms, staggering forwards, I knew that I could keep my dwelling a secret no longer and so I grabbed my own cloak and hastened to meet my unexpected guests, dropping lightly down onto the path in front of them.
Was my appearance truly so frightening? The man gasped in shock, turned swiftly to place the lady on the ground behind him and drew a short knife as he spun back round to face me. “D…don’t you come any closer!” he warned me striving to protect the woman in his care.
“I will not harm you, I watched you approach for some time. If I had wanted to I could have killed you both before you were even aware of it.” I knew my words would bring little comfort, but I really could not be bothered with pleasantries, and in any case, I had almost forgotten how…it had been so long since I had seen another. Hardly surprisingly the man did not relax his guard and if anything he became more anxious, glancing back at the woman fearfully.
“Oh for the love of Eru…I merely came to offer you shelter for the night. If you wish to sleep out here in the woods at the mercy of any passing wolves, feel free. If you would prefer a warm bed and some sort of hot food, then follow. It makes no difference to me,” I said, and began to make my way back to my home.
“No…please, wait. I…I mean…we would be grateful for your help.” The man helped his companion to her feet and they began to follow me, but as the woman stepped forward, she cried out. “I twisted my ankle I think, sir…I am sorry, I can’t walk fast.”
I could see that they were both exhausted, and…something else that I could not quite fathom, and as we hesitated on the path the snow began to fall once more. “Come, I will carry you,” I said, lifting the woman easily into my arms. “You…follow,” I instructed her partner, and together we braved the sudden blizzard and I led them to my humble dwelling.
*****
I had stepped out earlier leaving the fire burning in the grate and so all it needed was a good stir with the poker and a little more wood for it to blaze cheerfully once more. I settled the woman on a couch by the hearth and gestured for her partner to join her. The man remained ill at ease and shook his head, moving to stand behind his companion, once hand resting gently on her shoulder.
“Please yourself, but remove your cloak, you are dripping ice and snow on what is left of my carpet,” I snapped, feeling rather disgruntled by his lack of trust and acceptance of my hospitality, such as it was.
The couple looked abashed and shrugged off their damp outer garments, the man draping them over a piece of fallen masonry nearby. It was then that I noted two things. The woman was young, very young…not much more than a child…and she was heavily pregnant. Her partner glared at me in defiance as he saw that I had realised his companion’s condition, as if expecting me to throw them both back out into the blizzard.
“I can assure you I am not the heartless creature that you assume I am for some peculiar reason. For the sake of the Valar, sit down. I will not harm you or your wife,” I muttered as I put a pan on the fire to heat up some broth.
“I’m not…”
“She’s not my wife…” they both blurted out. The woman blushed and the man tightened his hold on her shoulder.
“We are not married…it’s why she was cast out of the village. The child isn’t mine…but I didn’t agree with them chasing her away. I didn’t think she should be thrown out, not into this weather, not with nothing, not so near Yule. I…I couldn’t bear it…to see her treated so badly. I mean, these things happen don’t they? We all make mistakes…and she’s carrying a child for heaven’s sake. Beth’s barely out of being a child herself,” he explained, gazing at the young girl with great tenderness and compassion in his eyes.
The woman reached up with cold, snow-reddened fingers and touched the man’s hand softly. In her gesture I could see all her fear at being abandoned by her kin and the gratitude for her companion’s kindness, for without it she would have died. The callousness of men angered me. I was repulsed that they would chastise and repel such a young girl for something that was after all a gracious gift from Ilúvatar, and I could not speak for some time without wanting to spit bitter words into the fire. At last I managed to compose myself and spoke softly.
“Yes…we have all made mistakes,” I murmured, more to myself than my guests as I thought of my own grave errors. “So, your name is Beth…and what is yours?” I asked the young man.
“Mark. And what is yours, sir? What should we call you?”
I ignored the question, reluctant to allow these strangers the intimacy of knowing my name just yet. Foolish I know, for they most probably would have no idea who I was, the old tales probably forgotten centuries ago. “The soup is ready. I am sorry for the lack of a table and fine silverware. Most of the furniture in these halls rotted many years ago and anything of value was removed by the original occupants.” I ladled the broth into bowls and handed them to the couple. It was a thin soup, but nourishing none the less.
Mark nodded gratefully and moved to sit beside Beth. Both ate their broth hungrily, although still with grace and thankfulness in spite of their desperate need. It pleased me to see them relax and smile and I had ladled three more spoonfuls into each bowl before they were both satisfied.
*****
I had been staring into the fire lost in my thoughts for some time after our meal when Beth’s voice interrupted my reverie. “Sir…where is this place? I…I can see it was once very grand. Who lived here?”
“Elves lived here, long, long ago.”
Mark chuckled. “Elves? Are they not from fireside tales told by grandmothers? Surely such creatures did not exist?”
I smiled sadly. All too soon the Eldar had been forgotten. All the great tales of tragedy and joy, of love and passion had crumbled to dust like the pages they had been written on by such fair hands so many years past.
“That is what I was told, but maybe you are right. The person who owned this house was called Lord Elrond, that is all I know. I believe he was a great healer in his time,” I replied. I could see disappointment in Beth’s eyes, as if she wanted the old tales to be true, but Mark grinned, believing himself to be knowledgeable and not fanciful like a girl.
“Well…I like the stories. They make me feel…Oh I don’t know, part of something I suppose, part of something bigger, grander…more important,” said Beth with a sigh.
“You are important without the fairy tales, Beth,” said Mark kneeling in front of her. “You are important to your baby…and you are important to me,” he added shyly.
Beth returned Mark’s smile equally shyly and I knew at that moment that these two had been led here for a reason. “You are both correct. You are the most important person in this whole place at the moment, Beth, for you are creating life within you, but we all have our place in the stories, however small…some of us have dark significance, others bring light, all our parts make up the whole tale.”
“So where do you fit in, sir? You have said nothing about yourself. Are you a dark or a light thread?” asked Mark.
I smiled, shaking my head. “I am most probably the unfinished poem that spoils the page, but it matters no longer. Much, much more has been written and added since my part was significant.”
Mark was not satisfied with my answer, but he could tell that he would get no more from me and so he left me in peace for a while, murmuring soft, private words to Beth that made her blush.
I added more logs to the fire to keep it burning through the night and then took a candle from a sconce on the wall. “It is late. I will show you to your rooms. My apologies for the lack of comfort, I was not expecting guests, but the mattress is soft and there are many serviceable blankets,” I said, suddenly anxious and wishing that I had more to offer the young pair. I led them to one of the larger chambers, still roofed, where I had managed to restore one large oak bed.
“This will do perfectly, and is a lot better than sleeping out in the snow,” said Mark with a grin, and helped Beth onto the bed, covering her with several blankets and a large fur rug. “I’ll stay here too, in case she needs anything,” he added, busy now collecting the few cushions I had scattered in the room, to use as pillows for the pregnant girl. His words were as good as any more formal dismissal and so I took my leave and retired to my own room across the corridor.
*****
Late into the night I felt a touch to my shoulder and as my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I realised that it was Mark who had woken me. “I…I think…it’s Beth…will you come please?” he stammered nervously.
I am sure it is hard to believe, but I had attended many births throughout my life. Indeed I remember at a very young age watching from behind a wall hanging as my own mother gave birth to the youngest of our family, my twin brothers who were most dear to me from the moment I heard their first cries.
I judged that there was going to be a long time yet before Beth’s baby would arrive, but obviously both the mother to be and her anxious companion had no experience of the painful tedium yet to come. Mark looked scared and worried and I gave him a reassuring smile. “No need for worry, calm yourself. Beth will need you to be at ease and comfortable in helping her.” Mark nodded and I followed him to their room.
Beth was obviously in some discomfort but no pain as yet. She sat on the bed propped up against the pillows and cushions, with a look of nervous anticipation on her face. Mark immediately went over to her and took her hand in his. “I’ve brought…our friend,” he said, looking at me quizzically again. I did not rise to the bait but instead smiled at Beth and began to light the lamps in the room. “Mark, if you fetch some logs you can light a fire in the hearth and heat some water for the baby when it arrives, and we can warm and air the blankets for the child as well,” I said, determined to give the young man plenty to do to occupy himself while we waited.
Beth winced at a sudden painful twinge and I sat beside her on the mattress, taking hold of her hand in place of Mark as he left the room in search of fuel for the fire.
“Do you know what will happen?” I asked Beth, hoping that she would have some idea of the birth of a child. She nodded. “I know enough. I had a sister…she had a child, a little girl…but…”
“…then you will be fine, and with my help will have your baby in your arms before the dawn,” I said cheerfully, ignoring the sorrowful tone of her voice. I did not want her to lose what little confidence and hope she had for a safe delivery and dwelling on painful memories would not help her face what was to come. Mark returned and made up a fire in the hearth and before long the room was much cosier and lit with a warm, cheerful glow.
The slow hours ticked by. Mark made tea for us all, rubbed Beth’s feet and hands periodically and helped her move around when sitting grew too uncomfortable. I occupied myself with sorting out clean linen and blankets for the baby, draping them over a chair next to the fire to warm. Time passed yet more tediously as Beth’s pain grew intrusive, and the quiet of the room was increasingly disturbed by her soft moans and gasps.
It was Mark who first grew more distressed, much as I had expected. It is always the men folk who make the fuss at such a time. A woman has her whole being involved in the process of giving birth and does not have the time or energy to devote to anxious complaints. “How much longer will this be? I am worried that Beth will not be able to stand much more pain,” he confessed to me in a low, urgent voice. “Perhaps it would help if there were something to distract her? Some music?” he suggested, glancing over to the harp in the corner of the room. “Or do you not play?”
I took a deep breath to calm my heart. “The harp is mine…though I have not played for many long years. My…my hands were…injured,” I managed to whisper after a few moments pause.
“Oh…oh I am sorry, I did not realise…” began Mark, apologising for his apparent insensitivity.
“…It is nothing, it was a hurt suffered a very long time ago…before you were born. I…I do not wish to play rather than I cannot play. However, I can sing if you think it would help ease Beth’s heart.”
Mark nodded and sat beside Beth as I prepared to sing. What did I sing that night? My repertoire had solely consisted of mournful ballads and dirges for so long that at first I had to search my memories for something more suitable for life and hope rather than bitter regret and death. The Noldolantë would not do for this occasion. But then I remembered a song of my childhood and one that my mother sang to me in happier, carefree times and as I began to sing the refrain it was as if a sweet, wholesome peace flooded my heart and soul and I wept with joy.
The atmosphere in the room grew restful and calm and the music did seem to help Beth face her increasing discomfort and pain with fortitude. Even Mark wore a cheerful grin until Beth squeezed his hand particularly hard and cried out suddenly.
I think the last contraction took her by surprise as it was by far the strongest so far and before she had a chance to draw a breath, she cried out again. Things were progressing nicely. “Do not panic, this is a good sign that your baby will be here soon, I said in my best ‘mid-wifely’ manner, chuckling to myself at the thought of what my brothers would say if they saw and heard me now.
Beth’s pains were now coming fast and furious and I could tell her mind was fully occupied with what was happening to her. She needed no instructions, her body knew what to do and after a few more contractions she began to cry out and push instinctively. “Support Beth’s shoulders, Mark,” I said, and prepared the linen and eased the covers back for better access to the child when it arrived.
As in all such momentous occasions, there was a great deal of confusion, half-expressed words of encouragement and instruction, quite a fair bit of gasping and a lot of mess, but after several strong pushes Beth’s son was born and I placed him in her waiting arms.
He was perfect, healthy and strong with a wild shock of dark hair and a powerful, tuneful cry. “He has your voice!” Mark chuckled, and Beth gave an exhausted but happy smile. “I have no name for him as yet…I would be honoured and most grateful if he could bear yours? Without your help none of us would be here,” she said gazing with love and pride at her baby. I was stunned by her request and my expression must have seemed angry rather than shocked, for her face fell and she buried her head in the warm bundle that lay mewling in her arms.
“I…no, it isn’t that…I…I am…just shocked…flattered. It’s just…my name is not a ‘good’ name. I was not a ‘good’ person…he would be better to carry a lesser burden through his life,” I stammered, overcome by my memories and regrets. I had to leave. I could not stay any longer in the room without telling them everything; my trials, my mistakes, my loneliness and my aimless wanderings that finally brought me to this ancient and ruinous house of refuge.
I fled the room and returned to my own chamber, but it no longer offered comfort to me and I sat on my bed and wept. As if I could hide in this valley away from the wrongs I had committed, the slaying of my own kind, the greed, the oath…the Oath that bound me to this place. I would move on. I would leave this homely house and wander the lands once more. Never again would I settle. I would give this place to Mark and Beth to raise their son, for I had no doubt that the young man would be a father to the boy. I hunted for a bag and began to stuff it full of the few things that I would need for a life in the wild, when the door to my chamber opened and Mark entered nervously. He saw what I was doing and frowned.
“You are going? But…but why? And what will become of Beth?” he said, trying to stop my hurried movements.
“You and Beth and the babe can remain here, I give this house to you, such as it is. I…I do not belong in this place any longer.” I did not add that I did not belong anywhere in this world.
“You are running away. I thought you better than that,” said Mark, sounding genuinely disappointed.
I laughed, a brittle sound like the icicles hanging from the eaves outside my window. “I am no better than a murderer, Mark,” I snapped.
Mark looked shocked for a fleeting moment but then shook his head. “But you saved us…surely that must count for something? And I am sure that your crimes were not as bad as…”
“…I made an oath that laid a curse on me from that time to this, I slew my kin, I have the blood of innocent elves on my hands, and all for nothing. I have watched as the rest of my kind either left these lands or faded into distant memory. I am the last and the only one left to tell the tale of the House of Feanor and our insanity,” I whispered.
“Then perhaps it is time that part of your tale was given to others to tell? Leave your burden here with us. We will keep your story in our hearts and share it with all who come to know Beth’s son. However, we will not end it unhappily, but instead go on to tell of the last elf that walked these lands and saved us from certain death. Forgive yourself…give us your tale, and then go home, wherever that might be,” said Mark, relieving me of my bag.
I stood and stared at the wise young man with hope growing in my heart. Could I really do that…could I follow my fellow elves into the West? But what would happen if I even reached the shores of those lands, would I be allowed to enter? Would I be welcome? Tears began to flow down my cheeks but I did not brush them away. I wanted to feel them to remind myself I was not dreaming.
“I…I will stay…for a while…and…and then I will go,” I stammered, overcome with emotion at the possibility of seeing some of my kin once more. Even if I were not granted access to Valinor…to gaze at those shores one more time would be all I would ask.
Mark grinned and began to unpack my bag for me. “Then you can begin your story this evening.” I nodded, dazed with nervous hope and followed him back to the room where Beth sat feeding her child.
*****
I remained with Beth and Mark for two more weeks and told them both all the tales of the Eldar; of the Silmarils, of my father’s oath, of battles won and lost, of Beren and Luthien and of Elrond and his daughter Arwen, of the rings of power and of the defeat of Sauron and much, much more besides.
On the morning of the fourteenth day, my last in this valley, I rose early and packed my bag once more but this time with a lighter heart. I did not want to see my young companions again but instead left them a note.
Beth and Mark,
The stories of the elves are now yours, as is this place of refuge. Use both well and with wisdom. Imladris was ever a place of welcome and healing, let it remain so in your hands. I have nothing of value to give your son except for my harp, which is now his, and his name.
With love and gratitude,
Maglor
I shouldered my load, slipped out into the frosty dawn and followed the path leading westwards out of the valley, leaving no footprints in the soft snow.
The End
Title: Redemption
Rating: G
Pairing: None....yes, believe it or not, NO SMUT!
Warning: None
Disclaimer: Characters are all Tolkien’s not mine, I am just playing with them and will put them back nicely afterwards.
Timeline: Post-Fellowship
Summary: A young couple in need and a mysterious rescuer.
Redemption
My valley glistened with snow. Thin ice covered the river and hung in long spikes from bare tree and bush, all was silent save for the occasional crack of an icicle as its weight grew too heavy and it fell to the floor piercing the cold earth.
This once green and mild gorge was now overgrown and bleak. Rocks had tumbled long ago into the river and paths once walked daily by elves dressed in fine silks and velvets had fallen to the valley below and were near impassable now that the Eldar had left for their home in the West, their protection with them.
I said all was silent, but this was not true. A young couple, both swathed in dark woollen cloaks, struggled along the wooded sides of my valley obviously searching for a refuge for the night. I had watched them for some time, reluctant to offer my home, such as it was, and wary of their intrusion, but when the woman slipped on the icy path and her partner scooped her in his arms, staggering forwards, I knew that I could keep my dwelling a secret no longer and so I grabbed my own cloak and hastened to meet my unexpected guests, dropping lightly down onto the path in front of them.
Was my appearance truly so frightening? The man gasped in shock, turned swiftly to place the lady on the ground behind him and drew a short knife as he spun back round to face me. “D…don’t you come any closer!” he warned me striving to protect the woman in his care.
“I will not harm you, I watched you approach for some time. If I had wanted to I could have killed you both before you were even aware of it.” I knew my words would bring little comfort, but I really could not be bothered with pleasantries, and in any case, I had almost forgotten how…it had been so long since I had seen another. Hardly surprisingly the man did not relax his guard and if anything he became more anxious, glancing back at the woman fearfully.
“Oh for the love of Eru…I merely came to offer you shelter for the night. If you wish to sleep out here in the woods at the mercy of any passing wolves, feel free. If you would prefer a warm bed and some sort of hot food, then follow. It makes no difference to me,” I said, and began to make my way back to my home.
“No…please, wait. I…I mean…we would be grateful for your help.” The man helped his companion to her feet and they began to follow me, but as the woman stepped forward, she cried out. “I twisted my ankle I think, sir…I am sorry, I can’t walk fast.”
I could see that they were both exhausted, and…something else that I could not quite fathom, and as we hesitated on the path the snow began to fall once more. “Come, I will carry you,” I said, lifting the woman easily into my arms. “You…follow,” I instructed her partner, and together we braved the sudden blizzard and I led them to my humble dwelling.
*****
I had stepped out earlier leaving the fire burning in the grate and so all it needed was a good stir with the poker and a little more wood for it to blaze cheerfully once more. I settled the woman on a couch by the hearth and gestured for her partner to join her. The man remained ill at ease and shook his head, moving to stand behind his companion, once hand resting gently on her shoulder.
“Please yourself, but remove your cloak, you are dripping ice and snow on what is left of my carpet,” I snapped, feeling rather disgruntled by his lack of trust and acceptance of my hospitality, such as it was.
The couple looked abashed and shrugged off their damp outer garments, the man draping them over a piece of fallen masonry nearby. It was then that I noted two things. The woman was young, very young…not much more than a child…and she was heavily pregnant. Her partner glared at me in defiance as he saw that I had realised his companion’s condition, as if expecting me to throw them both back out into the blizzard.
“I can assure you I am not the heartless creature that you assume I am for some peculiar reason. For the sake of the Valar, sit down. I will not harm you or your wife,” I muttered as I put a pan on the fire to heat up some broth.
“I’m not…”
“She’s not my wife…” they both blurted out. The woman blushed and the man tightened his hold on her shoulder.
“We are not married…it’s why she was cast out of the village. The child isn’t mine…but I didn’t agree with them chasing her away. I didn’t think she should be thrown out, not into this weather, not with nothing, not so near Yule. I…I couldn’t bear it…to see her treated so badly. I mean, these things happen don’t they? We all make mistakes…and she’s carrying a child for heaven’s sake. Beth’s barely out of being a child herself,” he explained, gazing at the young girl with great tenderness and compassion in his eyes.
The woman reached up with cold, snow-reddened fingers and touched the man’s hand softly. In her gesture I could see all her fear at being abandoned by her kin and the gratitude for her companion’s kindness, for without it she would have died. The callousness of men angered me. I was repulsed that they would chastise and repel such a young girl for something that was after all a gracious gift from Ilúvatar, and I could not speak for some time without wanting to spit bitter words into the fire. At last I managed to compose myself and spoke softly.
“Yes…we have all made mistakes,” I murmured, more to myself than my guests as I thought of my own grave errors. “So, your name is Beth…and what is yours?” I asked the young man.
“Mark. And what is yours, sir? What should we call you?”
I ignored the question, reluctant to allow these strangers the intimacy of knowing my name just yet. Foolish I know, for they most probably would have no idea who I was, the old tales probably forgotten centuries ago. “The soup is ready. I am sorry for the lack of a table and fine silverware. Most of the furniture in these halls rotted many years ago and anything of value was removed by the original occupants.” I ladled the broth into bowls and handed them to the couple. It was a thin soup, but nourishing none the less.
Mark nodded gratefully and moved to sit beside Beth. Both ate their broth hungrily, although still with grace and thankfulness in spite of their desperate need. It pleased me to see them relax and smile and I had ladled three more spoonfuls into each bowl before they were both satisfied.
*****
I had been staring into the fire lost in my thoughts for some time after our meal when Beth’s voice interrupted my reverie. “Sir…where is this place? I…I can see it was once very grand. Who lived here?”
“Elves lived here, long, long ago.”
Mark chuckled. “Elves? Are they not from fireside tales told by grandmothers? Surely such creatures did not exist?”
I smiled sadly. All too soon the Eldar had been forgotten. All the great tales of tragedy and joy, of love and passion had crumbled to dust like the pages they had been written on by such fair hands so many years past.
“That is what I was told, but maybe you are right. The person who owned this house was called Lord Elrond, that is all I know. I believe he was a great healer in his time,” I replied. I could see disappointment in Beth’s eyes, as if she wanted the old tales to be true, but Mark grinned, believing himself to be knowledgeable and not fanciful like a girl.
“Well…I like the stories. They make me feel…Oh I don’t know, part of something I suppose, part of something bigger, grander…more important,” said Beth with a sigh.
“You are important without the fairy tales, Beth,” said Mark kneeling in front of her. “You are important to your baby…and you are important to me,” he added shyly.
Beth returned Mark’s smile equally shyly and I knew at that moment that these two had been led here for a reason. “You are both correct. You are the most important person in this whole place at the moment, Beth, for you are creating life within you, but we all have our place in the stories, however small…some of us have dark significance, others bring light, all our parts make up the whole tale.”
“So where do you fit in, sir? You have said nothing about yourself. Are you a dark or a light thread?” asked Mark.
I smiled, shaking my head. “I am most probably the unfinished poem that spoils the page, but it matters no longer. Much, much more has been written and added since my part was significant.”
Mark was not satisfied with my answer, but he could tell that he would get no more from me and so he left me in peace for a while, murmuring soft, private words to Beth that made her blush.
I added more logs to the fire to keep it burning through the night and then took a candle from a sconce on the wall. “It is late. I will show you to your rooms. My apologies for the lack of comfort, I was not expecting guests, but the mattress is soft and there are many serviceable blankets,” I said, suddenly anxious and wishing that I had more to offer the young pair. I led them to one of the larger chambers, still roofed, where I had managed to restore one large oak bed.
“This will do perfectly, and is a lot better than sleeping out in the snow,” said Mark with a grin, and helped Beth onto the bed, covering her with several blankets and a large fur rug. “I’ll stay here too, in case she needs anything,” he added, busy now collecting the few cushions I had scattered in the room, to use as pillows for the pregnant girl. His words were as good as any more formal dismissal and so I took my leave and retired to my own room across the corridor.
*****
Late into the night I felt a touch to my shoulder and as my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I realised that it was Mark who had woken me. “I…I think…it’s Beth…will you come please?” he stammered nervously.
I am sure it is hard to believe, but I had attended many births throughout my life. Indeed I remember at a very young age watching from behind a wall hanging as my own mother gave birth to the youngest of our family, my twin brothers who were most dear to me from the moment I heard their first cries.
I judged that there was going to be a long time yet before Beth’s baby would arrive, but obviously both the mother to be and her anxious companion had no experience of the painful tedium yet to come. Mark looked scared and worried and I gave him a reassuring smile. “No need for worry, calm yourself. Beth will need you to be at ease and comfortable in helping her.” Mark nodded and I followed him to their room.
Beth was obviously in some discomfort but no pain as yet. She sat on the bed propped up against the pillows and cushions, with a look of nervous anticipation on her face. Mark immediately went over to her and took her hand in his. “I’ve brought…our friend,” he said, looking at me quizzically again. I did not rise to the bait but instead smiled at Beth and began to light the lamps in the room. “Mark, if you fetch some logs you can light a fire in the hearth and heat some water for the baby when it arrives, and we can warm and air the blankets for the child as well,” I said, determined to give the young man plenty to do to occupy himself while we waited.
Beth winced at a sudden painful twinge and I sat beside her on the mattress, taking hold of her hand in place of Mark as he left the room in search of fuel for the fire.
“Do you know what will happen?” I asked Beth, hoping that she would have some idea of the birth of a child. She nodded. “I know enough. I had a sister…she had a child, a little girl…but…”
“…then you will be fine, and with my help will have your baby in your arms before the dawn,” I said cheerfully, ignoring the sorrowful tone of her voice. I did not want her to lose what little confidence and hope she had for a safe delivery and dwelling on painful memories would not help her face what was to come. Mark returned and made up a fire in the hearth and before long the room was much cosier and lit with a warm, cheerful glow.
The slow hours ticked by. Mark made tea for us all, rubbed Beth’s feet and hands periodically and helped her move around when sitting grew too uncomfortable. I occupied myself with sorting out clean linen and blankets for the baby, draping them over a chair next to the fire to warm. Time passed yet more tediously as Beth’s pain grew intrusive, and the quiet of the room was increasingly disturbed by her soft moans and gasps.
It was Mark who first grew more distressed, much as I had expected. It is always the men folk who make the fuss at such a time. A woman has her whole being involved in the process of giving birth and does not have the time or energy to devote to anxious complaints. “How much longer will this be? I am worried that Beth will not be able to stand much more pain,” he confessed to me in a low, urgent voice. “Perhaps it would help if there were something to distract her? Some music?” he suggested, glancing over to the harp in the corner of the room. “Or do you not play?”
I took a deep breath to calm my heart. “The harp is mine…though I have not played for many long years. My…my hands were…injured,” I managed to whisper after a few moments pause.
“Oh…oh I am sorry, I did not realise…” began Mark, apologising for his apparent insensitivity.
“…It is nothing, it was a hurt suffered a very long time ago…before you were born. I…I do not wish to play rather than I cannot play. However, I can sing if you think it would help ease Beth’s heart.”
Mark nodded and sat beside Beth as I prepared to sing. What did I sing that night? My repertoire had solely consisted of mournful ballads and dirges for so long that at first I had to search my memories for something more suitable for life and hope rather than bitter regret and death. The Noldolantë would not do for this occasion. But then I remembered a song of my childhood and one that my mother sang to me in happier, carefree times and as I began to sing the refrain it was as if a sweet, wholesome peace flooded my heart and soul and I wept with joy.
The atmosphere in the room grew restful and calm and the music did seem to help Beth face her increasing discomfort and pain with fortitude. Even Mark wore a cheerful grin until Beth squeezed his hand particularly hard and cried out suddenly.
I think the last contraction took her by surprise as it was by far the strongest so far and before she had a chance to draw a breath, she cried out again. Things were progressing nicely. “Do not panic, this is a good sign that your baby will be here soon, I said in my best ‘mid-wifely’ manner, chuckling to myself at the thought of what my brothers would say if they saw and heard me now.
Beth’s pains were now coming fast and furious and I could tell her mind was fully occupied with what was happening to her. She needed no instructions, her body knew what to do and after a few more contractions she began to cry out and push instinctively. “Support Beth’s shoulders, Mark,” I said, and prepared the linen and eased the covers back for better access to the child when it arrived.
As in all such momentous occasions, there was a great deal of confusion, half-expressed words of encouragement and instruction, quite a fair bit of gasping and a lot of mess, but after several strong pushes Beth’s son was born and I placed him in her waiting arms.
He was perfect, healthy and strong with a wild shock of dark hair and a powerful, tuneful cry. “He has your voice!” Mark chuckled, and Beth gave an exhausted but happy smile. “I have no name for him as yet…I would be honoured and most grateful if he could bear yours? Without your help none of us would be here,” she said gazing with love and pride at her baby. I was stunned by her request and my expression must have seemed angry rather than shocked, for her face fell and she buried her head in the warm bundle that lay mewling in her arms.
“I…no, it isn’t that…I…I am…just shocked…flattered. It’s just…my name is not a ‘good’ name. I was not a ‘good’ person…he would be better to carry a lesser burden through his life,” I stammered, overcome by my memories and regrets. I had to leave. I could not stay any longer in the room without telling them everything; my trials, my mistakes, my loneliness and my aimless wanderings that finally brought me to this ancient and ruinous house of refuge.
I fled the room and returned to my own chamber, but it no longer offered comfort to me and I sat on my bed and wept. As if I could hide in this valley away from the wrongs I had committed, the slaying of my own kind, the greed, the oath…the Oath that bound me to this place. I would move on. I would leave this homely house and wander the lands once more. Never again would I settle. I would give this place to Mark and Beth to raise their son, for I had no doubt that the young man would be a father to the boy. I hunted for a bag and began to stuff it full of the few things that I would need for a life in the wild, when the door to my chamber opened and Mark entered nervously. He saw what I was doing and frowned.
“You are going? But…but why? And what will become of Beth?” he said, trying to stop my hurried movements.
“You and Beth and the babe can remain here, I give this house to you, such as it is. I…I do not belong in this place any longer.” I did not add that I did not belong anywhere in this world.
“You are running away. I thought you better than that,” said Mark, sounding genuinely disappointed.
I laughed, a brittle sound like the icicles hanging from the eaves outside my window. “I am no better than a murderer, Mark,” I snapped.
Mark looked shocked for a fleeting moment but then shook his head. “But you saved us…surely that must count for something? And I am sure that your crimes were not as bad as…”
“…I made an oath that laid a curse on me from that time to this, I slew my kin, I have the blood of innocent elves on my hands, and all for nothing. I have watched as the rest of my kind either left these lands or faded into distant memory. I am the last and the only one left to tell the tale of the House of Feanor and our insanity,” I whispered.
“Then perhaps it is time that part of your tale was given to others to tell? Leave your burden here with us. We will keep your story in our hearts and share it with all who come to know Beth’s son. However, we will not end it unhappily, but instead go on to tell of the last elf that walked these lands and saved us from certain death. Forgive yourself…give us your tale, and then go home, wherever that might be,” said Mark, relieving me of my bag.
I stood and stared at the wise young man with hope growing in my heart. Could I really do that…could I follow my fellow elves into the West? But what would happen if I even reached the shores of those lands, would I be allowed to enter? Would I be welcome? Tears began to flow down my cheeks but I did not brush them away. I wanted to feel them to remind myself I was not dreaming.
“I…I will stay…for a while…and…and then I will go,” I stammered, overcome with emotion at the possibility of seeing some of my kin once more. Even if I were not granted access to Valinor…to gaze at those shores one more time would be all I would ask.
Mark grinned and began to unpack my bag for me. “Then you can begin your story this evening.” I nodded, dazed with nervous hope and followed him back to the room where Beth sat feeding her child.
*****
I remained with Beth and Mark for two more weeks and told them both all the tales of the Eldar; of the Silmarils, of my father’s oath, of battles won and lost, of Beren and Luthien and of Elrond and his daughter Arwen, of the rings of power and of the defeat of Sauron and much, much more besides.
On the morning of the fourteenth day, my last in this valley, I rose early and packed my bag once more but this time with a lighter heart. I did not want to see my young companions again but instead left them a note.
Beth and Mark,
The stories of the elves are now yours, as is this place of refuge. Use both well and with wisdom. Imladris was ever a place of welcome and healing, let it remain so in your hands. I have nothing of value to give your son except for my harp, which is now his, and his name.
With love and gratitude,
Maglor
I shouldered my load, slipped out into the frosty dawn and followed the path leading westwards out of the valley, leaving no footprints in the soft snow.
The End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 07:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 07:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 07:39 pm (UTC)All my best wishes for a peaceful and enjoyable week. I haven't opened your pressie yet... promise!! *hugs and kisses* A
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 07:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 08:27 pm (UTC)You write beautifully, so eloquent and paint a picture with your words alone.
Wonderful tale.
Merry Christmas!
Ervy
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 09:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 09:06 pm (UTC)If I don't see you, have a VERY Merry Christmas!!
Oh, and I've been good and only eaten half the tin of cookies. :P The rest of the presents are still under the tree, though I'm dying to see what I have that's labled "suitable to throw at Loud Tracy."
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 09:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 10:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-23 10:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-24 02:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-24 09:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-26 01:06 pm (UTC)Whay can I say? My all time favourite Elf in a fantastically well written story with snow! And that ending, perfect, just perfect. Thank you, love, for writing this.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-26 04:16 pm (UTC)