In The Winter Garden. Chapter Four.
The story continues...
Chapter 4
Words - 1,960
Disclaimer as chapter one.
Chapter Four
Haldirin, as drawn by his father...
They ate, they talked with Éowyn, and they played a board game simple enough for Haldirin to join in. It involved pieces carved like horses, enabling him to show off one of his newly acquired words in the Common Tongue.
It was a pleasant evening even if, sometimes, Tindómë felt that there was a lot to be said for television. As dusk deepened towards darkness Tindómë settled Haldirin for the night; windows and shutters thrown open to the still, warm, air.
‘Not just television,’ she thought, ‘air-con has its uses as well…’
Then she remembered the air she had breathed when she had been ‘returned’ to Sunnydale three summers before. The warm, tree and flower scented, air outside Éowyn’s home and the fresh linen and beeswax scented air inside the bedroom was, certainly, preferable.
Haldirin lay on top of the bedcovers, hands on his chest, and looked at her face. Tindómë reached a hand out to rest, gently, on his forehead and began to quietly sing of trees and flowers, of bees humming, and horses playing under the trees. Haldirin’s eyes lost focus and she knew that he slept. She had been inordinately proud when she had realised that she could do this for him as effectively as his father, or any other elf.
Her thoughts turned to the Winter Elfling; she wondered how long it had been since someone had sung his feet down pleasant dream paths…
………………………………………………………
Later she sat, on the large bed in the adjoining room, looking at Rumil’s profile as he stood where their own window was also shutterless and wide open to the night.
“It is a night for a flet, meleth…” he said, with a hint of longing.
“You can go and sit out with the trees if you want, my love,” she answered, “I could stay here to be near Haldirin.”
She could feel him considering her offer and then setting it aside.
“No, meleth, I belong beside you. I will endure the stone walls for the pleasure of your body in my arms…”
Should anyone, who didn’t know him very well, have overheard they might well have thought him totally serious about what a great sacrifice he was making.
“Also,” he went on, “I want to know your thoughts about the elfling you saw in the Winter Garden.”
She moved towards him and stood in the circle of his arms at the window. Spoken conversation was often easier but, with minds open to each other and so close together, sharing her emotions and mental images as she spoke required no effort on either part.
“He was solid, not as I would expect a ghost to be. I thought a Houseless elf would be insubstantial - a fëa with no hroar. But he was very cold - colder than Haldirin was when we played in the snow in Eryn Lasgalen - he felt cold from inside not outside… and I am not sure whether he had a heartbeat.”
Rumil nodded his understanding.
“I am sure that he is not simply an elfling born in the past twenty years who has got lost,” Tindómë continued, “but I am not really sure what he is… In Sunnydale I might have thought he was some evil demon, pretending to be an elfling, but that doesn’t seem right to me at all.”
“I have seen, and felt, evil,” Rumil said, “and nothing either of us felt seemed evil. I do not think we need worry that he is a servant of the Evil One.”
“He is so sad. I could feel his sadness almost as clearly as I could feel Haldirin’s emotions…” She thought a little more before continuing. “Rumil-nín - when your parents… were killed… and Haldir had to take over as a parent, what happened to your parental bonds?”
Even after so many years she could feel sadness as Rumil answered.
“I was too young to remember it clearly. Orophin could explain better… I think there was… emptiness… loneliness...”
She held him tightly, but continued, “Did it… uh… do you think your bond with Haldir became closer and stronger to replace it?”
He did not answer straight away; she could feel him considering.
“I had not thought of it like that, but I think you are right! We were so young that, I know now, others were surprised that Orophin and I did not fade when Naneth and Adar died. But my memories as an elfling are that Haldir knew if I was in pain, or frightened; just as I feel Haldirin.
“I think we did have something like a parent and child bond when I was still an elfling - it faded to the same as my bond with Orophin as I came of age…”
Again Tindómë could feel Rumil considering what he had just said before he asked, “Why?”
“I wondered if you and Orophin just re-imprinted…”
She could feel his puzzlement at the description, but didn’t want to stop to explain the concept right now.
Instead she went on, “I think the Winter Elfling pushed his emotions through my bond with Haldirin - which is why I felt so very sad. I just wondered how possible that seemed…”
“Meleth! I believe you are right. Except that he did not do it to me…”
“It was only when I had both of them held very close to me.”
“Ah. Haldirin was too busy playing; he did not come to be held by me whilst we were there…”
“I don’t think it explains why I saw so much more clearly than you did - but it might explain why I felt so clearly…”
She paused for a few minutes, as the memory of that terrible sadness washed over her, and this time it was Rumil who held her tightly and his love for her flowed through their own bond.
Tindómë turned within Rumil’s arms, still held close, so that she too could look out through the window. The Winter Garden was not visible from their window… she was both glad and sad. She spoke again.
“I did wonder if Haldirin and I saw the elfling most clearly because we are both young.”
Rumil laughed quietly before answering.
“Even though we sometimes call you ‘little one’ I did not think to ever hear you consider yourself to be young like Haldirin, lirimaer!”
“I don’t mind, really - except that when you say it it’s usually because you think I’m behaving like an elfling, and you’re going to go all ‘adult’ on me…”
“I know… I am sorry, meleth…”
He nuzzled her ear and she knew that, although he sounded contrite, he was smiling.
“Anyway,” Tindómë went on, “I thought about it for a few minutes but, then, it occurred to me that, although you were surprised that I would be more aware of the effect than you because I am not quite an elf, perhaps the reason is more because of what I am, completely and totally.”
She did not need to say more. She could feel, both through their soul-bond and physically as her husband’s body stilled, that he knew what she meant and was carefully considering it.
“I wondered that myself,” he said, slowly, “but you have been in the Winter Garden before. Éowyn and Legolas had opened it up before we visited five years ago. We had Haldirin with us then, too…”
Tindómë turned again so that their faces were very close and she could look into his eyes.
“Perhaps I was too adult for the Elfling; perhaps Haldirin was too young. Perhaps Haldirin saw him then, but didn’t know how to explain… But I think it is that my Keyness was more or less dormant, and Haldirin’s had not been… activated. Radagast woke up The Key in Haldirin to find me, I think.”
Rumil did not immediately say anything. Then he nodded slightly, “I understand, meleth.”
Tindómë went on, “Haldirin being an elfling, and also containing The Key, might be the right combination to have ‘woken up’ the Winter Elfling, and then I could see and feel him because I’ve got even more Keyness… or something like that.”
“Beloved wife, you are very clever and, again, I think you are right. Because you are The Key, and something of The Key is also in Haldirin, seems to me to be the best answer to why this elfling has appeared. And I saw the elfling either because of my bond to Haldirin or just because, when you or Haldirin are in the Winter Garden, the elfling is there to be seen.”
Tindómë hugged Rumil very, very tightly. “I do love you… so much! You never get cross about me being The Key, or upset about it, or about me passing it on to Haldirin.”
He sounded surprised as he answered, “But, meleth, it is who you are…
“If you were not The Key you would not be here - how can I be upset about who you are, about what brought you here?”
‘Buffy used to be…’ Tindómë thought, and did not shield the thought, he probably knew already.
“And how can I be upset about Haldirin having something of The Key in him? He is your son as well as mine - he exists because we love each other.”
He paused then added, “If nothing of The Key had passed to Haldirin I would have lost you three years ago.”
She felt, briefly, the flash of coldness, of anger, that always accompanied any thoughts her husband had about what he saw as her being ‘kidnapped’ back to Sunnydale as surely as she had been kidnapped, over twenty years earlier, by the Corsair who had called himself Lord Lomion.
Before she could say anything, he continued speaking.
“I do not even want to think of it. Thinking of losing you makes me hurt in my fëa…”
He picked her up, and kissed her thoroughly, carrying her to the bed.
“Meleth,” he said, “I… need. I need to feel us united in hroar and fëa. Not because I worry about, or fear, The Key - The Key is you; the hroar and fëa I want, so much, to join with. I need to be with you because the memory of the fear of losing you is too fresh to bear. Come to me, hervess-nín…”
She went.
…………………………………………………………………….
Meleth - beloved
Fëa - soul
Hroar - body
Lirimaer - beautiful one
Hervess-nín - my wife.
…………………………………………………………………….
After they had made love they slept. At the very first hint of approaching day Rumil awoke and, carefully, eased himself away from Tindómë, leaving her to sleep for the hour or two more that she needed.
He concentrated briefly on Haldirin; their son slept peacefully. Rumil went back to stand at the window, breathing in the softly scented air, letting his senses reach out as far as he could. The trees were mostly sleeping, but there were sounds of the guards doing their rounds; of horses in the stables and out in the paddocks beyond the gardens; some small mammal rustling in the undergrowth; running water further away…
He stood, waiting for day. And then he both heard and felt Tindómë’s sleep become disturbed. She was clearly dreaming… and it was not a happy dream path she trod. Usually Rumil would have gone to her, stroked her hair, steered her back to a gentler path. But this morning something stopped him. He waited - he would intervene only if she was obviously distressed.
Suddenly she sat up, eyes wide open, looking all around until she saw Rumil and reached both arms out to him. He was at her side, holding her, in an instant.
She buried her head in his shoulder, and held on to him tightly, her heart rate, at first very fast, slowly returning to normal.
“I know,” she said, “I know what happened to the Winter Elfling!”
…………………………………………………………………….
Chapter Five is here.
Chapter 4
Words - 1,960
Disclaimer as chapter one.
Chapter Four
Haldirin, as drawn by his father...
They ate, they talked with Éowyn, and they played a board game simple enough for Haldirin to join in. It involved pieces carved like horses, enabling him to show off one of his newly acquired words in the Common Tongue.
It was a pleasant evening even if, sometimes, Tindómë felt that there was a lot to be said for television. As dusk deepened towards darkness Tindómë settled Haldirin for the night; windows and shutters thrown open to the still, warm, air.
‘Not just television,’ she thought, ‘air-con has its uses as well…’
Then she remembered the air she had breathed when she had been ‘returned’ to Sunnydale three summers before. The warm, tree and flower scented, air outside Éowyn’s home and the fresh linen and beeswax scented air inside the bedroom was, certainly, preferable.
Haldirin lay on top of the bedcovers, hands on his chest, and looked at her face. Tindómë reached a hand out to rest, gently, on his forehead and began to quietly sing of trees and flowers, of bees humming, and horses playing under the trees. Haldirin’s eyes lost focus and she knew that he slept. She had been inordinately proud when she had realised that she could do this for him as effectively as his father, or any other elf.
Her thoughts turned to the Winter Elfling; she wondered how long it had been since someone had sung his feet down pleasant dream paths…
………………………………………………………
Later she sat, on the large bed in the adjoining room, looking at Rumil’s profile as he stood where their own window was also shutterless and wide open to the night.
“It is a night for a flet, meleth…” he said, with a hint of longing.
“You can go and sit out with the trees if you want, my love,” she answered, “I could stay here to be near Haldirin.”
She could feel him considering her offer and then setting it aside.
“No, meleth, I belong beside you. I will endure the stone walls for the pleasure of your body in my arms…”
Should anyone, who didn’t know him very well, have overheard they might well have thought him totally serious about what a great sacrifice he was making.
“Also,” he went on, “I want to know your thoughts about the elfling you saw in the Winter Garden.”
She moved towards him and stood in the circle of his arms at the window. Spoken conversation was often easier but, with minds open to each other and so close together, sharing her emotions and mental images as she spoke required no effort on either part.
“He was solid, not as I would expect a ghost to be. I thought a Houseless elf would be insubstantial - a fëa with no hroar. But he was very cold - colder than Haldirin was when we played in the snow in Eryn Lasgalen - he felt cold from inside not outside… and I am not sure whether he had a heartbeat.”
Rumil nodded his understanding.
“I am sure that he is not simply an elfling born in the past twenty years who has got lost,” Tindómë continued, “but I am not really sure what he is… In Sunnydale I might have thought he was some evil demon, pretending to be an elfling, but that doesn’t seem right to me at all.”
“I have seen, and felt, evil,” Rumil said, “and nothing either of us felt seemed evil. I do not think we need worry that he is a servant of the Evil One.”
“He is so sad. I could feel his sadness almost as clearly as I could feel Haldirin’s emotions…” She thought a little more before continuing. “Rumil-nín - when your parents… were killed… and Haldir had to take over as a parent, what happened to your parental bonds?”
Even after so many years she could feel sadness as Rumil answered.
“I was too young to remember it clearly. Orophin could explain better… I think there was… emptiness… loneliness...”
She held him tightly, but continued, “Did it… uh… do you think your bond with Haldir became closer and stronger to replace it?”
He did not answer straight away; she could feel him considering.
“I had not thought of it like that, but I think you are right! We were so young that, I know now, others were surprised that Orophin and I did not fade when Naneth and Adar died. But my memories as an elfling are that Haldir knew if I was in pain, or frightened; just as I feel Haldirin.
“I think we did have something like a parent and child bond when I was still an elfling - it faded to the same as my bond with Orophin as I came of age…”
Again Tindómë could feel Rumil considering what he had just said before he asked, “Why?”
“I wondered if you and Orophin just re-imprinted…”
She could feel his puzzlement at the description, but didn’t want to stop to explain the concept right now.
Instead she went on, “I think the Winter Elfling pushed his emotions through my bond with Haldirin - which is why I felt so very sad. I just wondered how possible that seemed…”
“Meleth! I believe you are right. Except that he did not do it to me…”
“It was only when I had both of them held very close to me.”
“Ah. Haldirin was too busy playing; he did not come to be held by me whilst we were there…”
“I don’t think it explains why I saw so much more clearly than you did - but it might explain why I felt so clearly…”
She paused for a few minutes, as the memory of that terrible sadness washed over her, and this time it was Rumil who held her tightly and his love for her flowed through their own bond.
Tindómë turned within Rumil’s arms, still held close, so that she too could look out through the window. The Winter Garden was not visible from their window… she was both glad and sad. She spoke again.
“I did wonder if Haldirin and I saw the elfling most clearly because we are both young.”
Rumil laughed quietly before answering.
“Even though we sometimes call you ‘little one’ I did not think to ever hear you consider yourself to be young like Haldirin, lirimaer!”
“I don’t mind, really - except that when you say it it’s usually because you think I’m behaving like an elfling, and you’re going to go all ‘adult’ on me…”
“I know… I am sorry, meleth…”
He nuzzled her ear and she knew that, although he sounded contrite, he was smiling.
“Anyway,” Tindómë went on, “I thought about it for a few minutes but, then, it occurred to me that, although you were surprised that I would be more aware of the effect than you because I am not quite an elf, perhaps the reason is more because of what I am, completely and totally.”
She did not need to say more. She could feel, both through their soul-bond and physically as her husband’s body stilled, that he knew what she meant and was carefully considering it.
“I wondered that myself,” he said, slowly, “but you have been in the Winter Garden before. Éowyn and Legolas had opened it up before we visited five years ago. We had Haldirin with us then, too…”
Tindómë turned again so that their faces were very close and she could look into his eyes.
“Perhaps I was too adult for the Elfling; perhaps Haldirin was too young. Perhaps Haldirin saw him then, but didn’t know how to explain… But I think it is that my Keyness was more or less dormant, and Haldirin’s had not been… activated. Radagast woke up The Key in Haldirin to find me, I think.”
Rumil did not immediately say anything. Then he nodded slightly, “I understand, meleth.”
Tindómë went on, “Haldirin being an elfling, and also containing The Key, might be the right combination to have ‘woken up’ the Winter Elfling, and then I could see and feel him because I’ve got even more Keyness… or something like that.”
“Beloved wife, you are very clever and, again, I think you are right. Because you are The Key, and something of The Key is also in Haldirin, seems to me to be the best answer to why this elfling has appeared. And I saw the elfling either because of my bond to Haldirin or just because, when you or Haldirin are in the Winter Garden, the elfling is there to be seen.”
Tindómë hugged Rumil very, very tightly. “I do love you… so much! You never get cross about me being The Key, or upset about it, or about me passing it on to Haldirin.”
He sounded surprised as he answered, “But, meleth, it is who you are…
“If you were not The Key you would not be here - how can I be upset about who you are, about what brought you here?”
‘Buffy used to be…’ Tindómë thought, and did not shield the thought, he probably knew already.
“And how can I be upset about Haldirin having something of The Key in him? He is your son as well as mine - he exists because we love each other.”
He paused then added, “If nothing of The Key had passed to Haldirin I would have lost you three years ago.”
She felt, briefly, the flash of coldness, of anger, that always accompanied any thoughts her husband had about what he saw as her being ‘kidnapped’ back to Sunnydale as surely as she had been kidnapped, over twenty years earlier, by the Corsair who had called himself Lord Lomion.
Before she could say anything, he continued speaking.
“I do not even want to think of it. Thinking of losing you makes me hurt in my fëa…”
He picked her up, and kissed her thoroughly, carrying her to the bed.
“Meleth,” he said, “I… need. I need to feel us united in hroar and fëa. Not because I worry about, or fear, The Key - The Key is you; the hroar and fëa I want, so much, to join with. I need to be with you because the memory of the fear of losing you is too fresh to bear. Come to me, hervess-nín…”
She went.
…………………………………………………………………….
Meleth - beloved
Fëa - soul
Hroar - body
Lirimaer - beautiful one
Hervess-nín - my wife.
…………………………………………………………………….
After they had made love they slept. At the very first hint of approaching day Rumil awoke and, carefully, eased himself away from Tindómë, leaving her to sleep for the hour or two more that she needed.
He concentrated briefly on Haldirin; their son slept peacefully. Rumil went back to stand at the window, breathing in the softly scented air, letting his senses reach out as far as he could. The trees were mostly sleeping, but there were sounds of the guards doing their rounds; of horses in the stables and out in the paddocks beyond the gardens; some small mammal rustling in the undergrowth; running water further away…
He stood, waiting for day. And then he both heard and felt Tindómë’s sleep become disturbed. She was clearly dreaming… and it was not a happy dream path she trod. Usually Rumil would have gone to her, stroked her hair, steered her back to a gentler path. But this morning something stopped him. He waited - he would intervene only if she was obviously distressed.
Suddenly she sat up, eyes wide open, looking all around until she saw Rumil and reached both arms out to him. He was at her side, holding her, in an instant.
She buried her head in his shoulder, and held on to him tightly, her heart rate, at first very fast, slowly returning to normal.
“I know,” she said, “I know what happened to the Winter Elfling!”
…………………………………………………………………….
Chapter Five is here.