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'Til Death Do Us Part  by Haleth

Haleth grimaced and shifted her weight. Elves might be very at home in trees but mortals, even former mortals, found them less than accommodating. She welcomed by dull ache in her backside; it distracted her from her melancholy mood.

Despite the warm welcome of Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían, regardless of the familiarity of speaking her mother-tongue, Haleth had to reluctantly admit that she was not happy on Tol Eressëa. The Exiles were more familiar than the noble, stoic Elves of Tirion, but they were not her people. She had more in common with the Ringbearers than any of Master Elrond's folk. Their stories of the Shire were the opposite of heroic; tales of foibles that ended in gentle laughter. The contrast with the epic, tragic tales of the Elves could not have been greater and it only heightened Haleth's awareness of being hopelessly out of place.

The Blessed Realm, no matter how beautiful, was not her home. Given the chance, she would have gleefully traded eternity in Aman for a day of tramping through the empty miles of Eriador with Inglor.

Her heart ached with the thought of Inglor. She had seen neither hide nor hair of him since the night they had quarreled. Except that wasn't true. Inglor hadn't argued at all. In fact, for once he had done exactly what she asked and left her alone. It was typical of Inglor to do something she hadn't really wanted him to do.

He had abandoned her, at her own request, in a place she didn't belong.

All she had left was an uncomfortable perch high in a tree and a shadow of a home that did not exist anymore.

She heaved a deep sigh.

'You sound most unhappy.'

Haleth started forward at the unexpected visitor's words. She lost her balance and slid off the branch, her hands scrambling ineffectually at the bark. She looked down. The ground was very, very far away.

Strong hands grasped her waist and settled her back onto her perch. Ecthelion had silently climbed the tree while she had been brooding. With great effort she controlled the desire to punch him.

'You startled me,' she snapped.

'I apologize. That was not my intent,' Ecthelion replied.

The smooth, calm response further irritated Haleth.

'Lord Ecthelion, why are you here?' It was a pointless question. All she expected was a polite smile and a pleasant non-answer.

Ecthelion stared into the hazy East.

'I came to find things dear to me. Neither was ever truly mine but one was in my care.'

Haleth's breath caught in her throat. He had answered, but the reply was so cryptic that it gave no information at all. How very typical of an Elf. She had an eternity to grow accustomed to non-answers. Judging by the sheer irritation it caused, it was unlikely to ever happen.

'What happened to it?' she heard herself say, surprised that the words could force their way out through gritted teeth.

'I was careless and I lost it.' He said this with smile that did not reach his eyes.

'Lost?' asked Haleth, her pulse quickening. 'You are looking for it. I can help.'

'No,' he said with a sad smile. 'That which I seek is gone forever, I fear. It shall not return until Arda is remade, and perhaps not even then.'

A tide of unreasonable disappointment washed over Haleth. Why did people insist on giving her a purpose and then tearing it away?

'Lady Silmariën…'

'Haleth,' she barked.

'Have you ever seen Gondolin the Fair?'

'No,' she answered. The Elves always forgot that she wasn't one of them. Why did people think she had been to places that had disappeared beneath the waves an Age before she had been born?

'It was a city like no other; a gem of sparkling white set within the green Vale of Tumladen.'

Haleth had a vision of a white, shining city shimmering in a green valley encircled by mountains, its towers gleaming in the sunlight. It seemed as real as the branch she was sitting on.

There was a low rumble overhead and the light dimmed. She glanced upwards, expecting to find storm clouds billowing out of the west, but the sky was a perfect azure and empty of clouds.

'I thought,' she said slowly, hanging tightly to the tree branch and fighting vertigo. 'That is the songs always led me to believe that Gondolin was built as a memory of Tirion.'

'You know our songs well,' said Ecthelion, genuinely pleased. 'It is true that Tirion is above all cities of Men and Elves in beauty. Yet there is more to a city than structures of stone and wood. Is that not so, Haleth?'

'Yes,' she agreed, silently amazed at how conversations with Elves always went in odd directions.

'What other thing makes a city?' asked Ecthelion.

'A city is her people,' replied Haleth, recalling the empty, echoing streets of Mithlond.

'Just so. A city is her people. You may have noticed in the time you spent there, Tirion is sadly lacking for people.'

Haleth nodded. There were streets where all of the houses and shops were empty. The building and grounds were all carefully tended…for no one.

'I avoided those,' she said, shuddering.

'I remember the laughter and song that once rang in those places,' he said wistfully.

'That only makes the silence all the worse,' said Haleth, gazing at the smudge in the eastern sea. Was Armenolos above the waves? What would it look like? Homesickness swelled in her heart. She forced it away.

'Is that why you took me for a picnic? As an excuse to be away from Tirion?'

'Not entirely, no,' he said. 'I was curious about my friends' child.'

'You mean Idril and Tuor.' Haleth shook her head. 'My Lord Ecthelion I am many, many generations removed from my illustrious ancestors. I must have been a grave disappointment.'

'Very far from it,' he said.

'Master Elrond is much closer kin to them.'

'He was another one of the reasons that brought me here.'

Visiting Master Elrond and escaping the silent streets of Tirion were very good reasons for a journey. Haleth had travelled further for less. But if this was true, why wasn't the entire population of Tirion on Tol Eressëa?

'What else?' Haleth demanded.

Ecthelion cocked his head, grinned and shrugged.

It almost disarmed Haleth.

Almost.

'Forgive me, Lord Ecthelion, for the reasons you gave me are sound enough for me, but I have been told that the Elves of Tirion have never, until now, visited those upon Tol Eressëa.'

'Why are Glorfindel and I different?' he asked lightly.

Haleth nodded and wished he wasn't so handsome.

'You know the songs of my people,' he said, his grey eyes seeking the east.

'I am familiar with those that touch my family's history,' she said, disappointed by the oblique response.

'Then you are familiar with the White Lady?'

Haleth combed through her tangled memory. There had been a ghost called the White Lady. She had haunted her cousins' ancestral home. How her brother and older cousins had loved to frighten her with threats to do as they said lest the White Lady take her away. There had also been an Inn called the White Lady in Ondosto where she and her colleagues had met.

Neither of those things would have been mentioned in the songs Ecthelion was referring to. He would have gone to Mandos many years before either ghost or inn had existed.

Haleth fought the urge to bang her head against the bole of the tree. She wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to treating ancient history as current events.

'The White Lady of the Noldor. Lady Aredhel,' she said, proud to have made the connection.

Ecthelion nodded. 'The only daughter of Lord Nolofinwë and the Lady Anairë and the sister of my King,' he said, his voice barely a whisper. 'It was my task to protect her. I failed in the most abject manner.'

That had been so long ago! Haleth opened her mouth to say as much and then thought better of it. Who was she to lecture someone else about self-forgiveness? She had never forgiven herself for living when her countrymen had been destroyed.

'I am sorry, Lord Ecthelion,' she said, laying her hand on his arm. 'From what I know of the White Lady of the Noldor, she did not want to be protected.'

'Simply because one refuses protection and counsel does not mean one does not require it,' he said with quiet finality.

'Do you believe the Lady Aredhel is on Tol Eressëa?' she asked.

'No. I am quite certain she is still within the Halls of Mandos.'

'Then…why are you here?' Haleth asked, thoroughly confused.

'I mean to protect the descendants of my King and liege lord,' he said stoutly.

'I'm sorry, Lord Ecthelion, but I believe Master Elrond can take care of himself. Besides, there is hardly any danger in the Blessed Realm.'

Ecthelion shook his head and laughed. 'This from a person who nearly fell to her death several heartbeats ago!'

'What? Me? You mean me?' Haleth demanded.

'Are there any other descendants of King Turukáno?'

'I'm led to believe there are quite a few in Middle-earth who may actually be in need of your valiant protection. Do you intend to help them?' she demanded, hoping he would agree.

'Alas, I may not return to Middle-earth. The way is closed,' he said sadly.

'I don't need your protection,' growled Haleth.

'I beg your pardon but you most certainly do. You nearly tumbled out of this tree.'

'Only because I didn't hear you coming. You did that purposely, didn't you? Snuck up on me so I'd startle and nearly fall so you could rescue me. You planned it all along, just to prove I need your protection.  Which I don't!'

The accusation was meant to make him angry. Instead he sat back and laughed.

'You did plan it all along!' she roared.

'Peace, Lady Silmariën.'

'Haleth.'

'Lady Haleth then.'

'I am no lady.'

'Oh my dear, you most certainly are. I cannot begin to tell you how much you remind me of the Lady Írissë.'

'Now you're delusional,' growled Haleth when she had worked out that Írissë was the same person as Aredhel.

'Not your appearance,' he said.

'Well thank-you for noticing the difference! What gave it away? The grey hair or the wrinkles?'

'But your words and your actions,' he said, ignoring her sarcasm. 'I cannot count how many times I had this very conversation with her.'

Haleth was working up a truly devastating retort when another voice called up from below.

'I take it you found her?'

Haleth looked down. A fair elvish face framed in blonde hair gazed upwards. For half an instant she thought it was Inglor and her heart leapt in her chest.

'Yes, Glorfindel. I have found her,' Ecthelion called down merrily as Haleth struggled to swallow her disappointment.

'Splendid. Can you convince her to come down? The evening meal will be served soon.'

Haleth thought of the old songs. Glorfindel had also been numbered among Lady Írissë's protectors.

'Oh NO. Not you, too!' she wailed.

 





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