18: Insights

Over the next several days, Thurin’s vocabulary and pronunciation improved. He could now say Maglor’s name correctly, but other names were still a problem, so that Denethor became ‘Denthur’ and Glóredhel was mangled into ‘Glorthil’, but no one minded. They were just pleased that he was beginning to respond.

“Though you really need to teach him to say more than ‘please, Maglor’,” Denethor said with a grin when Maglor remarked on how far the ellon had come. “He says that for just about everything.”

“True, and we’re working on it,” Maglor said with a grin of his own. “Glorthil” — and Denethor actually snickered at that and Maglor’s grin became wider — “reminded me that at least he’s learned one form of politeness. She’s trying to get him to say ‘thank you’ now.”

“It’s like teaching an elfling,” Denethor remarked with a shake of his head. The two of them were sitting by the main fire sipping tea. Glóredhel had taken Thurin on a walk through the hills accompanied by Duilinn as their guard, thus giving Maglor a short break.

“Just about,” Maglor averred. “The only difference is, I suspect he understands more than we think but he hasn’t yet recovered the skill of articulating what he wishes to say except in the simplest of terms or using pantomime, such as patting his head when he wants me to stroke his hair.” He gave Denethor a rueful look and the other ellon smiled sympathetically.

“He’s been so long without any kind of physical contact with another, that I imagine having someone stroke his hair is his way of connecting with the rest of us. I notice that after you’ve stroked his hair for a while he becomes more responsive, willing to play your word games and following you and Glóredhel around, allowing you to do other things than attend to him all the time.”

Maglor nodded. “Yes, I noticed that as well, so I don’t mind doing it, but I hope it doesn’t become a lifelong habit or I’m more likely to strangle him.”

Denethor chuckled. “Well, I also think that it helps that there are not as many of us here at the moment. He seems to respond better now that there are so few of us around.”

“Yes, I saw that. Indeed, I felt it. When Ragnor and the others left for Mithlond, I was sitting beside Thurin and felt the tension ease out of him when the camp fairly emptied out. Since then, he’s been more relaxed and hasn’t drawn into himself as he had earlier. I don’t know how he will react when they all return.”

“Hopefully, by then he will be even more acclimated and will not find their presence troublesome.”

“I would like to encourage everyone who is here to interact with Thurin as much as possible. I don’t want him to become so dependent on me or Glóredhel that he refuses to respond to others.”

“Perhaps you should explain what you want from us then,” Denethor said and called everyone who was present to attend him and Maglor. It took a few minutes for everyone to drop what they were doing and join the two by the fire. Even the hunters were there, helping with the building projects, for they had enough meat for at least three days and there would be no need to hunt for a couple of days. When everyone was gathered, Denethor said, “Maglor wishes to discuss Thurin.”

Everyone gave their attention to Maglor. “Denethor and I have been discussing how best to integrate Thurin into our society. Glóredhel and I are taking on the burden of teaching him language, but each of you can help simply by speaking to him as you would to any of us. Ask him questions even if you expect no answer. Smile often. Sing even more. Include him in your lives as far as you can and as far as he will let you, so that he begins to feel a sense of belonging. Take care not to speak down at him, as if he were a simpleton or a very young elfling, even if he acts like both at times. He understands more than he lets on, of that I am sure.”

“So, should we try to get him to do things as well?” Amarthamíriel asked. “I mean, if he shows any interest in helping us with something?”

“Yes, of course, but don’t expect him to be proficient. He’s very clumsy still, at least by our standards, and we must be patient. He’s relearning skills he’s forgotten, though it’s interesting to see what things he hasn’t forgotten, such as the need to go elsewhere to relieve himself.”

“For which we can thank the Belain,” Damrod said with a grin. “I don’t fancy having to change his nappies.”

The others all laughed at that and Maglor grinned. “No, for that we can be thankful, but you take my point: he is mind-damaged to some extent because of his long isolation but he is beginning to reclaim himself. It’s just not going to happen immediately and I have no doubt that there will be the occasional setback. It’s inevitable. We just have to be patient.”

“And we are nothing if not patient. After all, we put up with you,” Denethor said with a straight face.

Maglor gave him a disbelieving look while everyone else chuckled. Denethor stood, clapping Maglor on the shoulder in a friendly manner, and that seemed to be the signal that the meeting was over, for the others began drifting away to return to their own tasks. Just about then, Glóredhel and Thurin, whose hands were full of stones, returned. When he saw Maglor he hurried over to him and promptly dropped the stones he was carrying at Maglor’s feet.

“Pwetty,” he said with a grin, holding up a stone and handing it to Maglor.

There was actually nothing pretty about the stone, Maglor saw. It was dark gray mottled with green, but no more unusual than the stones lying about them, yet Maglor realized that Thurin was attempting to share his delight in ‘discovering’ the stone on his walk and Maglor smiled. “Yes, it’s very pretty. May I keep it, please?”

Thurin frowned slightly but then nodded and scooped up the other stones, all of them as plain and ordinary as the one in Maglor’s hand, and went bounding off, just to stop in front of Rían where he dropped his stones at her feet. He stooped down and picked out a stone, handing it to her. “Pwetty,” he said. Rían glanced over at Maglor, who nodded, holding up his own stone. Rían then looked at Thurin and smiled. “Yes, it’s quite pretty. Thank you for showing it to me.” She attempted to give it back but Thurin shook his head, scooped up his remaining stones and bounded off to someone else. Thus, in a matter of minutes, the ellon had given away all but one of his ‘pwetties’, returning to the fire where Maglor still sat. He patted his head. “Please, Maglor,” he said, then sat there in contentment, playing with his stone, while Maglor stroked his hair.

****

“How do we keep the water from freezing as it travels along the trough?” someone asked.

Maglor was checking on the progress of the aqueduct while Glóredhel took Thurin on a walk nearby to collect more ‘pwetties’. Maglor examined the aqueduct, which actually bore no semblance to any he had ever seen. It was essentially a narrow ditch that ran from the spring to the camp, or actually to the foot of the plateau on which the towers stood. They would still have to bring the water up, but the distance was not as great as trekking all the way to the spring. Maglor could see that the ditch was about a foot deep and stone-lined. It did not go all the way to the spring, though. The plan was to build a wall around the spring so that the water did not flow away, but pooled. The last bit of earth would then be removed and the water would then flow in the only direction left open to it.

“If we were to cover the trough with stone, it would at least keep snow from filling and blocking it,” one of the ellith standing there said.

“So we had planned,” Damrod said, “but it still does not address the possibility that the water will freeze before it reaches us.”

“What if we built fires along its path?” someone suggested.

“They would have to be maintained constantly and that would be impractical, I deem,” Damrod replied with a frown.

“With all the snow that is bound to fall, it seems rather silly to be building this aqueduct. Why don’t we simply collect and melt the snow as we’ve done all along?” another said.

“Snowmelt just doesn’t taste the same as pure spring water, though,” another elleth commented, “but you are correct that it would be simpler.”

“We should wait and see if the water actually freezes,” Damrod then said, “before deciding on things. I would like to collect as much spring water as possible before it gets too cold. The cistern we are building is deep enough that the water may not freeze except on the surface.”

The cistern, Maglor knew, was a good ten feet deep and also lined with stone. It had taken nearly a week of constant work to dig it, the earth piled up around to give it some protection against the elements. Maglor had to agree that collecting snow to melt would be simpler, but he did not say so, realizing that the building of the aqueduct served more than one purpose, and collecting water was only secondary to the main purpose: keeping people occupied. The various building projects kept people busy as they prepared for the winter, already looking forward to spring.

And Maglor realized something else: the very real possibility that there may be no way to reach Valinor without a ship. Certainly they could not be expected to walk across the ocean, even if it were frozen. No. It was obvious to him, if to not many of the others, that the Belain never intended for them to reach the Blessed Realm, only for them to make the attempt. And if they must remain where they were over the long centuries until the glaciers finally receded and trees became available again so that they could build a ship, what of it? They had all survived this long with no actual hope of reaching the Blessed Realm. Now they had that hope, that dream, and it was what gave them the energy to face each new day, each new challenge.

Maglor glanced at those standing about discussing the aqueduct and noticed the aliveness of their expressions, the easy joking and camaraderie that had grown up between them all. It really did not matter what they did, only that they did it together. The aqueduct may well prove an engineering failure, but the sense of accomplishment, the sense of having done something instead of just waiting around for something to happen, was what truly mattered here.

“We can probably build fires around the cistern and here at the pool,” he said, joining the discussion for the first time. “Perhaps the rate of flow will prevent the water from freezing completely as it makes its way down the trough.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Damrod said. “As you can see, the walls for the pool are almost completed. Another day or three and we will be ready to test it.”

Maglor nodded. “Let us hope it actually works, or there will be a lot of frustrated people to placate.” He gave them all a merry grin and they chuckled.

“At least it has kept us occupied,” one of the ellyn said, echoing Maglor’s thoughts. “I prefer to be doing something constructive even if it does turn out not to work as well as I would hope. It is better than sitting around doing nothing.”

There were many nods. “And if it doesn’t really work, we may be able to figure out what we did wrong and fix it before it gets too cold to bother,” another said and again many there nodded or made noises of approbation.

Maglor gave Damrod a significant look which the ellon returned and he realized that Denethor’s second-in-command was well aware of the importance the building of the aqueduct was to improving the morale of their group as a whole. He was about to comment when Thurin came bounding up with Glóredhel and Duilinn trailing behind, his hands full of stones no more remarkable than any of the others lying about, but he handed them out to everyone with such unfeigned delight that they all smiled, thanking him. He didn’t seem to notice that most of the Elves surreptitiously dropped their stones as they all headed back to the camp.

Maglor, however, kept his stone, had kept every stone Thurin gave him as a reminder of what he could have become had circumstances been different for him. Thurin’s fate could well have been his own and he appreciated that. He also noted that Thurin was very selective of the type of stone he collected, for they were always dark gray mottled with green. He did not know if that was significant or if it simply meant that Thurin was attracted to the color combination. It did not seem to matter, so long as it kept the ellon occupied and happy and his willingness to share his prize with everyone else was a good sign.

****

The hunters went out the next day and Maglor watched Thurin watching them as they checked over their gear before setting off, a confused look on his face.

“They go to hunt,” he explained to the ellon. “In a few days they will return with more meat, goat most likely, perhaps a deer if they’re lucky.”

Thurin gave him a nod. “Goat good,” he said.

Maglor smiled. “I suppose it is,” he replied, though personally he was getting rather sick of it and was waiting impatiently for Ragnor and the others to return from Mithlond, hopefully with a catch of fish. He was looking forward to fish. “Come on. Let’s help with the wall.”

The wall was actually two walls that extended from the south tower to the west, encompassing the area around the main fire pit. The area was not completely enclosed, though. The walls did not touch the towers, leaving a two-foot gap at either end and a doorway was created on both sides with the south door halfway between the south tower and the fire pit and the north door halfway between the west tower and the fire pit. Pillars of stone were set at measured lengths down the center of the space over which the goatskins would be stretched, providing them with some cover. Only the fire pit would be left open to the sky. The south wall was nearly complete and most of the workers were concentrating on the north wall, which was only half done. The walls were about a foot higher than the tallest Elf and they used blocks of stone as stepladders to reach that high.

Maglor and Thurin helped to transport the stones out of the ruins of the north tower, piling them where the builders could easily reach them. It was hot, heavy work, but no one minded. One of the ellyn helping to construct the wall was even singing an old hymn dedicated to Lord Aulë and others joined in, though Maglor did not. He was still reluctant to sing with the others though he did not mind singing to Thurin when the ellon became restive, and then only simple lullabies.

So he was surprised when he heard Thurin humming along as he placed his stones in the pile that was being created. It was not exactly on tune and it could have been mistaken for sounds of contentment such as he made when eating, but Maglor realized that the ellon was attempting to sing. He gave Thurin a smile and started humming as well. Thurin stopped to stare at him for a second or two before he smiled back and started humming again as the two continued to help pile the stones.

****

The hunters returned earlier than expected, hauling the carcasses of several creatures like those that had attacked them in the Shire. People stopped what they were doing, exclaiming at the sight.

“They were hunting us,” Haldir said as people congregated around them. “We decided to return the favor.” He gave them a wide grin and several people chuckled.

“Did you learn where the rest of the colony is?” Denethor asked.

“No,” Haldir replied. “We decided to get these back here first. We’ll go back out after we’ve had a short rest, but we figured you’d want to get at these in the meantime. Have no idea if the meat is any good, but we can use the pelts.”

Everyone nodded and several people were already grabbing skinning knives while others looked on. Denethor and Damrod were quietly speaking to Haldir and the other hunters, trying to ascertain just where they had encountered the creatures in relation to the Towers. Maglor was half listening to the various conversations around him, being more intent on watching Thurin, for the ellon, on seeing the dead creatures, had become agitated.

“What is it, Thurin?” he asked softly, placing a steadying hand on the ellon’s shoulder. “Have you met these creatures before?” The thought of meeting even one of the cats alone sent tremors through him and he could not imagine how anyone could survive a concerted attack by an entire pack.

“Bad,” Thurin replied. “Bad.” And before Maglor realized his intent, the ellon stooped down, grabbing a large rock, and pushed one of the skinners out of the way, smashing the rock into the creature’s skull. “Bad! Bad!” he screamed.

“Thurin, no!” Maglor yelled and grabbed him, trying to pull him away, though Thurin struggled, still screaming. Someone came and grabbed Thurin from the other side and Maglor saw it was Damrod and Denethor was with him.

“Let’s bring him over to the fire,” he said and Maglor nodded as they dragged the ellon away. All the while Thurin continued screaming. “Thurin, Thurin. It’s all right,” Maglor said soothingly as they reached the fire. He wrapped his arms around the ellon and began crooning a lullaby while Denethor stood over them with Damrod looking on. Thurin’s struggles became less as Maglor continued humming and stroking the ellon’s hair until he finally collapsed, weeping.

“Well, that was interesting,” Damrod said, as Glóredhel came over and handed Maglor a cup of water, who then tried to get Thurin to drink it. “Do you think he’s had his own encounters with these creatures?”

“Obviously,” Denethor commented with a scowl, “which means that Ragnor and his people may also encounter them unknowingly.”

Damrod grimaced. “Let us hope that they don’t, but in the meantime, what do we do with the creatures? The pelts and the bones can be used but can we eat them?”

“No eat. Bad.”

They looked at Thurin who had calmed down enough that Maglor had released him from his embrace. Denethor frowned. “Seems a waste though.”

“Yet, I would trust Thurin’s assessment just based on his reaction,” Maglor commented. “He must have had encounters with these creatures at some point and perhaps tried to eat their meat and discovered that it made him sick. Is that it, Thurin? Did you try to eat the cat-creatures and got sick?”

Thurin nodded. “Bad. No eat. Ar…arthad eat… sick… so sick… die… now I alone… so alone….” He was weeping again and Maglor took him back into his embrace and held him tightly, the horror he was feeling mirrored on the faces of those listening.

“He had someone with him,” he said, trying to articulate the import of that revelation. “Arthad. He must have died after eating the flesh of one of these creatures.”

“And then Thurin was left alone,” Denethor said sadly. “The Belain have mercy.”

“They did,” Glóredhel stated categorically as she sat beside Thurin, stroking his hair. “They sent us, didn’t they?”

Maglor felt a frisson of something that was not quite fear but was closer to awe at the implications of the elleth’s words as he came to the conclusion that perhaps he had not been the only one the Valar had wanted Denethor’s people to save. Looking at the ellon now fallen asleep in his arms, he thought perhaps that he had never been the true object of the Valar’s concern, and for some reason that thought brought him comfort.

“We’ll make use of the pelts and the bones but we burn everything else,” he said in a decisive tone, giving Denethor a significant look and the ellon nodded in agreement, turning away to issue his own orders to that effect.