24: Out of Memory and Time

Alex walked into the Sindarin class the next morning with Derek and smiled at Gil who was writing something on the board.

"Aur vaer, hir Gilvegil," Alex said easily, giving him a cheeky grin. "Ci mae?"

If Gil was surprised that Alex knew his rightful name, he gave no indication, only smiling as he answered, "Aur vaer, Alex. Olthanneg vae?"

Alex gave him a puzzled look. "Er... um... man thêl oltha?" he asked, mentally dropping the past tense marker and pronoun suffix as he’d been taught to find the root verb.

"I asked you if you had good dreams," Gil said. "No nightmares?"

"About the tarn, you mean?" Alex shook his head, then glanced around furtively as other students sauntered in. He leaned closer to speak in a whisper. "Not about the tarn, and it wasn’t really a nightmare, just confusing, but... I kept dreaming about... um... Beren."

Gil raised an eyebrow at that but did not comment.

"Did Glor... er... I mean, Loren... did Loren tell you what happened over the weekend?"

"Yes, he filled me in. I’m very glad to know that you know and that you are on our side."

"I’m not exactly sure if I’m on your side or not. More like, I’m on Amroth’s side."

Gil nodded. "So you were dreaming about Beren?" he prompted.

"Not really about Beren. I was Beren, or at least, that’s how it seemed, but the storyline was all skewed. Who’s Glorendil?"

Gil actually went pale and his eyes darkened. Alex forced himself not to flinch or step back but he was feeling the first shreds of panic at the Elf’s reaction to the name. "Gil? What’s wrong?"

He watched as Gil visibly pulled himself together, his expression troubled. "I think you need to see Ron and Loren about this," he finally said. "I’ll let them know and they’ll contact you. Why don’t you take your seat and we’ll get started?"

"Who’s Glorendil?" Alex insisted. "I’ve got a feeling I didn’t just make him up, did I?"

"This isn’t the time or place, Alex. Trust me. You will get your answers but they will have to wait, alright?"

Alex grimaced slightly, then sighed. "This is all new to me," he finally said. "I haven’t a clue as to what’s happening to me and I can’t afford this distraction. I need to be in control of the situation or a lot of innocent people could be hurt."

"I understand," Gil said sympathetically. "I promise, as soon as this class is over, I’ll speak with Ron and Loren."

"Thanks," Alex said, then took his seat.

Derek gave him a concerned look. "You okay, mate?"

"Sure. I just needed to tell Gil something."

"Right then," Gil said briskly. "I trust you all had a good weekend. Alex, welcome back to class. I’m glad to see you’re fully recovered from your ordeal. Now, if you take a look at the board you will see I have a set of sentences. Can anyone tell me what strikes you as odd about them?"

Alex stared at the board, mentally translating the Sindarin, but coming up short when one of the words in the first sentence didn’t make sense. "I-nagor?" he asked hesitantly. "What does that mean?"

"If I were to write it like this," and Gil took a marker and wrote i-dhagor above the word Alex had indicated, "does that make more sense?"

"The battle," someone said.

"Very good. However, it’s completely wrong. Sindarin has a handful of words which you’ll need to memorize that don’t follow the same mutation rules you’ve been learning. These are known as archaic nasalized stop mutations and they are derived from the original root word. Dagor is derived from the following." He wrote NDAK above the word in question. "So, when these words suffer either nasal, mixed or stop mutation, the original initial consonant, in this case ‘nd’ is restored." He wrote out another word; i-ndegyr. "The battles," he translated. "And as you can see in the sentence itself, for soft mutation, the initial consonant becomes ‘n’ and in liquid mutations, it reverts to the base consonant, which, of course, is ‘d’. These special mutations only affect words which begin with ‘b’, ‘d’ or ‘g’ where the original root word began either as ‘mb’ ‘nd’ or ‘ng’. So, let’s take a look on page one-oh-two, where you will see the archaic nasalized stop mutation chart and the list of words which use these mutations....."

****

"My brain hurts," Derek muttered as he and Alex made their way out and down the hall to the lounge once the class was over.

Alex grinned. "Tell me about it. And I thought Russian was complicated."

"It seems Sindarin is nothing but memorization," Derek groused.

"That’s true with all languages," Alex replied philosophically. "I’m sure you had to do a lot of memorization of Japanese before it became second nature."

"True," Derek admitted. "Whoever designed this language is obviously a linguistic genius to have come up with something like archaic nasalized stop mutations, don’t you think?"

"Definitely," Alex agreed, hiding a smile, knowing that the language was anything but ‘designed’. "So I take it this is our last history class," he said as he gave the attendant his coffee order.

"Yeah. Pity. I was really enjoying it."

Alex just nodded as they found a table where others were sitting and joined them. Someone asked Alex how he was doing and how was his weekend since he wasn’t with them for the camping trip and he spent a few minutes describing the picnic with filet mignon, lobster and clams to the utter envy of his listeners.

****

When they were settled in the next class, Della began handing out blue booklets with lined paper typically used in colleges for essay writing. "Since this is your last class, we’re going to have a final." There were groans from nearly everyone.

"But we didn’t study and some of us were camping this weekend," someone complained.

"This is not that kind of final," Della assured them, "Later this week we’ll be holding the name lottery where you’ll be given an elvish-sounding name, which you will use when you are working as a guide, although we highly recommend you begin calling one another by whatever name you get so you are used to it. At any rate, what I want you to do here is to write out a biography of your Elf persona. Go ahead and use your own name, but choose a time and a place and tell me about yourself. I don’t expect you to remember everything we’ve learned here, but you must have picked up something about the history of the Elves that you can use as a background to your persona. Give me as much detail as you can remember. You will be graded more on imagination than on accuracy, but if you insist that Lindon was founded in the second year of the First Age and that Gil-galad was King of Doriath, I will have to wonder where your mind’s been these last two months."

There were chuckles throughout the class and the tension lessened. "So, you have the entire class time to write your masterpiece. Feel free to throw in some Sindarin phrases where appropriate. Again, I will grade you on your effort rather than on grammatical accuracy. These will be returned to you next week so you can use them to build your persona. The children, especially, will ask questions about yourself and if you have a ready answer, you will be more believable as a guide."

Alex nodded to himself, already mentally deciding how he would write his ‘bio’. It was not dissimilar to what he did when creating a persona for infiltration into a terrorist group, but this time it was nice to be able to play being a good guy. He was surprised how that made him feel. ‘Alex Grant’, as originally conceived, was anything but good. He was a sociopath who loved blowing things up and causing pain. It had been a rather distasteful role and he’d only borrowed the name and not the persona behind it when he came to Wiseman. Now, for the first time, he could create a persona from scratch that was ultimately ‘good’ and not ‘evil’.

Putting pen to paper, he began to write out: ‘Mae govannen. My name is Alex and I was born in the hidden city of Nargothrond to a Noldorin warrior named Ambrose who married a Sindarin weaver named Anne. My father was attached to King Finrod’s household and...."

The words flowed out of him, and he barely stopped to think about it. Creating a believable persona came naturally to him after long years of practice. He smiled to himself as he remembered some of his earlier attempts and Ambrose’s patient (and sometimes not so patient) corrections. Time seemed to slip away and he found himself caught up with his bio, relishing the little details he’d been able to call up: the way his mother’s tapestries graced the king’s own halls, the sound of the fountains and the myriad crystal lamps that had turned a series of caves into a place of beauty and light. He stopped at one point to check the time and saw he still had about twenty minutes. He leaned back in his chair and started re-reading what he’d written so far to see how he needed to end his story and stared in shock when he reached the second page to find it covered with neatly written tengwar script. He flipped to the next page and the next and it was all written in tengwar. He went back to the second page and began picking out the letters, thinking he’d simply written in English using tengwar, but to his rising horror, he realized the words were actually Sindarin and some of them he didn’t even recognize.

He swallowed and glanced up and raised his hand when Della happened to look his way. She raised an eyebrow but came over to his desk. "Is there something wrong, Alex?" she whispered.

For an answer, he thrust the booklet at her. "What’s happening to me?" he pleaded.

She took the booklet and started reading it from the beginning, smiling at what she read, but the smile froze when she turned to the next page. Alex simply sat there staring at her, watching the play of emotions as her mouth dropped open in surprise. He could feel himself begin to panic and ruthlessly squashed it, bringing to fore all his training to keep himself from falling apart. Della closed the booklet and handed it back to him, then leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Stay calm. When the class is over, remain in your seat. I’m going to contact Loren."

"And Ron," Alex said faintly. "I think I need Ron."

Della nodded, patting his shoulder as she straightened. "Fifteen more minutes," she announced. "I’m going to step out for a moment, so continue writing. If you finish early, re-read your work and make any corrections and additions you need to."

Alex sat in miserable silence as Della left the room. She was not gone long and when she returned, she simply gave him a nod as she announced that anyone who was done could hand in their paper and leave. "Make sure your name is on the front cover," she reminded them as she began accepting papers. Derek got up to hand in his paper then returned to his desk to collect his books. "Are you okay, Alex?" he whispered. "You look a bit pale. Maybe you should go lie down for a bit."

"No, I’m okay," Alex lied. "Uh, I need to speak with Della for a few minutes so I’ll wait until the class is over. Don’t wait for me. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria."

Derek nodded and left and another ten minutes saw the room emptying of students as they handed in their papers, most of them comparing biographies as they gathered their things and left. Alex never moved, his hands clenched around the booklet, his eyes staring sightlessly at the space above the whiteboard. Della was quietly sorting the other booklets and placing them in a briefcase. The door opened and Loren entered, followed by Ron and Darren. Loren went directly to Alex, holding out his hand. Alex gave him the booklet, remaining silent as the Elf-lord quickly scanned the pages, giving the booklet to Ron who then gave it to Darren. Della joined them and the four Elves turned seats around so that they were all facing Alex.

Ron was the first to speak, leaning over to place a comforting hand on Alex’s arm. "Let me put your mind at ease. You are not insane and you are not possessed."

"What am I then?" Alex demanded. "Why is this happening?"

"I have a theory, but it’s only that, a theory," Ron answered and when Alex nodded his understanding, he continued. "I think your near-death experience triggered certain genes to activate, genes that apparently hold aspects of memory."

"So he’s a reincarnation of Beren?" Loren asked dubiously. "If that’s so, then why is he writing about the life of an Elf in Nargothrond?"

Ron shook his head. "No, it’s not reincarnation, it’s a racial memory."

"And there’s a difference?" Alex asked.

"Yes. Racial memory is in the DNA but reincarnation is in the spirit. Something happened to you to activate the racial memory of your Edain forefathers. Now, I’m not saying you’re a descendant of Beren and therefore of Lúthien. It would be impossible to prove. I’m saying that the blood of the Dúnedain runs in you and that is the racial memory you’re experiencing." He turned to Loren. "You said that you accompanied the people of Dol Amroth into the south." Loren nodded. "The princes of Dol Amroth had Elven blood in them even if diluted. It’s possible that Alex is descended from them."

"And there was intermarriage between the House of Galador and the House of Telcontar," Loren added. "Aragorn’s fourth daughter married one of Imrahil’s great-grandson’s."

Ron nodded, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "That would perhaps explain why Alex is able to draw upon both his Edain and Elvish heritage for his memories, assuming, of course, he truly is one of Lúthien and Beren’s descendants."

"Among others," Loren pointed out with a smile. "If we accept what you are suggesting as true, it means that he has Maiarin blood in him as well. That may be what has been activated."

"What are you saying?" Alex demanded. "Are you saying I’m not only part Elvish but part angelic, as well?"

"Only a very, very small part of each," Daeron answered. "You are still Mortal, but I suspect that if you were to examine your family history, one side or the other is longer lived than is considered average for Mortals."

"Most of my mom’s family seem to have lived well into their nineties and even past a hundred," Alex admitted.

"Then we must assume that it’s from your mother’s side of the family that you are descended from the line of the Sea-Kings and the Princes of Dol Amroth," Daeron said.

"So, everyone has these racial memories?" Alex asked Ron.

"Yes, or so the theory goes," he answered. "For most people, these memories are inaccessible except possibly through dreams or deep meditation. I think your near-death experience eroded more than one kind of barrier."

They sat in silence for a moment or two, digesting what had been said between them. Finally, Loren stirred, giving Alex a sympathetic smile. "I know this is very confusing, if not downright frightening, for you, Alex, but I want you to know that you’re not alone. You have us and we will do all in our power to help you through this."

"I don’t need this," Alex said, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t need the distraction. What if I... um... zone out at a critical moment? I could be a danger to others."

"Would you consider returning to Edhellond for a time?" Loren asked. "We can keep a closer eye on you there than here."

Alex shook his head. "No. I don’t think that would work and it would be unfair to Derek. He’d be alone. I don’t like the idea of him being alone." He blinked, giving them a confused look. "Why did I just say that? Why does the idea of leaving Derek alone make my skin crawl?"

"Do you think he could be in danger?" Della asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

"I don’t know, but... Farrell." He frowned and he suddenly noticed his hands were clenched and had to force himself to unclench them. "I don’t trust Farrell not to retaliate against me through Derek or others. He has to be thoroughly pissed off at my refusal to toe the line for him."

"I can arrange for protection," Loren said, "but I think you should follow your instincts and remain here with Derek. In the meantime, try to stay calm. Perhaps you and Ron can make arrangements to meet and discuss what is happening with you. I still think your nightmares are the key to all this."

"I agree," Ron said with a nod. "You’re missing lunch and archery will be starting soon."

"I don’t feel very hungry right now and frankly I don’t think I can face an archery field at the moment. I’d like to just be alone."

"I don’t like the idea of you being alone any more than you like the idea of Derek being alone," Loren said with a frown. "Come have lunch with us and then afterwards, why don’t you plan to spend the afternoon with Ron? We’ll get you back here in plenty of time for dinner."

Alex nodded reluctantly. "I should go find Derek and tell him. I was supposed to meet him at the cafeteria."

"I’ll find him and let him know," Della said. "I’m planning to meet Amroth there for lunch anyway. Alex, can you read any of what you’ve written?" She held out the blue booklet.

"Some of it," Alex admitted, "but a lot of words I don’t know."

"Why don’t I translate it for you so you can see what you wrote?" Della suggested.

"I really don’t care if I ever see that booklet again," Alex replied, almost snarling.

"No, son," Ron said. "That’s not the right attitude. Let Della translate it and then you and I will go over it and talk about how it makes you feel when you read about this Elf’s life. I think it would go a long way to helping you resolve some of your identity issues."

"Ron is correct," Loren said, rising from his seat. "Can you get the translation to them this afternoon?" he asked Della.

"No problem. I’ll bring it myself after lunch."

"Then let’s be on our way," Loren said and the others rose. Alex remained in his seat, though, unsure if he really wanted to join them. Ron seemed to understand his ambivalence and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "It’s all right, Alex. We’ll get through this together, okay?"

Alex nodded and stood. "Would it be alright if... if Ambrose sat in with us?" he asked, sounding meek and uncertain.

"If that’s what you want," Ron answered gently. When Alex nodded, he smiled. "Then I think that would be fine. Will you tell him, Della?"

"Of course," Della said. "And that would work out better. I can have him bring the translation as I’d actually planned to meet up with Daisy and Alfa after lunch."

"Then we seem to be a set," Loren said. "Why don’t you go put your things away, Alex? We’ll meet you downstairs."

"I’ll go with you," Ron offered and Alex gave him a grateful look as they all headed out the door.

****

Words are Sindarin:

Aur vaer, hir Gilvegil: ‘Good morrning, Lord Gilvegil.’

Ci mae?" ‘You are well?’

Olthanneg vae?: ‘Did you (informal) dream well?’

Man thel oltha?: ‘What does oltha mean?’