24: Rescue

Valandur woke suddenly, unsure at first where he was. His gaze fell upon Findis still sleeping and it all came rushing back to him. Rising, he stole softly across the space separating them and gazed down at her, smiling gently. Her eyes were nearly closed and he could imagine just how exhausted she must be. Her hair was a golden aureole with bits of twigs and leaves interlaced in her tresses, her tunic was filthy, caked with mud, and torn. He could see the bit of the hem that had caught fire, the edge charred and the metallic thread embroidery melted. There was a smudge of dirt on her face and her hands, once carefully manicured, were grimy and rough looking, the nails broken off.

She was beautiful and she was his beloved.

He wanted nothing more than to gather her into his embrace, shower her with his kisses and never let her go. Instead, he stepped away and quietly explored their domicile, discovering a privy in the back, cleverly hidden behind what he had first taken to be another cupboard. After availing himself of the facility, he went outside to look about. Their tree-cave, as he continued to think of it for lack of a better word, lay on the northern border of the Forests overlooking a wide meadow. To the north and west were low rolling hills, purplish and indistinct on the horizon but eastward the meadow stretched out and he saw no other features. This could not be anywhere near the Southern Fiefdoms. He recalled that the Forests had marched along the western border of the Fiefdoms, effectively limiting their expansion further west. He had to assume that where they were was well west of Nordomas and the other villages they had visited. How far west remained to be seen.

He tried to call to mind the geography of Aman, but he had to admit to himself that he had paid scant attention to learning the lie of the land that was now his home. He knew, of course, that the realms of Lords Irmo and his brother, Námo, lay somewhere to the southwest of Valmar and that their sister, the Lady Nienna, held sway somewhere along the Western Shore, her house overlooking the Ekkaia that no Elf had ever yet seen, but as far as distances were concerned, he had no idea. He only knew that it took less than a day to reach Valmar from Vanyamar and Tirion was another three or four days further on. Beyond that, he did not know, and that troubled him. How long had he lived here in blissful ignorance of even the most basic knowledge of the land and its geography?

He shook his head at that thought and decided to look for more comfrey. The poultice would need to be refreshed. He wished he had means to build a fire but he had lost his tinder along with his knife and he doubted that Lord Oromë would appreciate him building a fire inside the tree. He grinned at that thought as he stooped to gather some more of the healing herb. He spent several minutes harvesting the comfrey and a few other herbs that he recognized and then headed back to where Findis was just beginning to stir.

“Fair day to you, my lady,” he said as he came inside, dropping his herbal treasures on the table.

“Fair day, my lord,” she answered, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she struggled to sit up.

“I have some more comfrey and a few other herbs that I will pound into a paste. That poultice needs to be refreshed. How does your ankle feel?”

She moved her foot experimentally. “It still throbs but not as painfully as before,” she answered.

“Good. A few days of resting it should help it to heal. Are you hungry or thirsty?”

“No, though what I wouldn’t give for a hot bath and clean clothes right now.”

Valandur laughed. “You and me both. I’ve been doing a bit of exploring. There is a privy in the back. Do you need any help in getting to it?”

“No. I think I can manage,” she said, carefully swinging her legs out of the bed. “Bring that chair over and I will use it as a crutch. I wish I hadn’t dropped the tree limb.”

“I will see if I can find another after I’ve made the poultice,” Valandur said, as he dragged the chair over and gave her a hand standing. Findis clutched the back of the chair, keeping her left foot off the floor and slowly inched her way to the back while Valandur returned to the table and began sorting out the herbs. When she returned, she did not go back to her bed but set the chair by the table and sat, eyeing the bowl in which Valandur was making the poultice, the scent of the crushed herbs brightening the air around them.

“Where do you suppose we are?” she asked.

“Definitely nowhere near the Southern Fiefdoms,” he answered. “I took a look outside earlier and there is no sign of smoke or fire anywhere. The sky to the east is blue and cloudless.”

“It could mean that the fires have burned out and there is no smoke rising,” she offered.

“I would not imagine that such smoke as rose above the fires would dissipate so quickly,” he replied. “I think we’re just far enough away that we cannot see any evidence of it. Aman is very wide and I do not know where that stream eventually ends or in which direction or even how far we traveled along it. I will freely admit that I know little of the geography of Valinor save the little bit that comprises Eldamar. Here, let me see your foot.”

He pulled the other chair out and set it so she could prop her foot. As gently as possible, he removed the wrappings. The swelling was less and the purple-yellow bruising was fading but she still hissed in pain when he manipulated the ankle ever so slightly.

“I think you’ll need to stay off this for a few more days,” he said as he first bathed the foot with water, dried it and then smeared the poultice on before replacing the bandages.

“Thank you,” Findis said. “That feels better already. So, what shall we do? Shall you leave me here and go look for rescue?”

“That would certainly be the wisest thing,” Valandur said. “No one would ever think to look for us here. They would simply keep following the stream, though they might realize we left it if they notice evidence of our heading away from the stream when we were following the cat, but I do not know what woodcraft any of them might have.”

“Well, I’m safe enough here. I think you should leave as soon as possible. Who knows how long it will take you to reach civilization?”

“I hate to leave you alone, though,” Valandur admitted. “You won’t be able to move about until your foot is more healed and while you certainly have enough food and water to see you through, I notice that Lord Oromë failed to provide us with reading material to while away the hours. You’re going to be very, very bored before I return with help.”

Findis laughed. “I’m sure I’ll manage. Perhaps I will spend the time mentally composing a ballad about our adventures or I will just sleep. Please do not worry for me, tyenya.”

Valandur raised an eyebrow at the form of address, more intimate than she had ever used with him before. It was not quite as intimate as melda, but it was certainly a step in the right direction.

He started to comment but a shadow blocking the light stopped him and he looked out the door, noticing how dark it suddenly was. Going to the entrance, he peered out. “Valar! Where did this storm come from?” he exclaimed.

“What is it? What’s happening?” Findis demanded.

Valandur stepped to one side so she could see out. The sky, so blue only a short time before, was now purplish, the Light of the Trees dim, as storm clouds flew swiftly overhead. There was a sudden burst of lightning, followed almost immediately by the ominous clap of thunder and then the rain came down in a torrent, the wind driving some of it inside the tree. Valandur quickly pulled the door closed, plunging them into darkness, for there were no windows.

“Well, this won’t do,” he heard Findis exclaim more in annoyance than anything. “Val, crack the door open a bit. We need to be able to see. Why couldn’t Lord Oromë have supplied us with candles at least?”

Valandur did as he was bid, opening the door enough so that light leaked in with the rain, making it possible for him to see again. However, when he released his hold on the door, the wind simply threw it wide open and Valandur quickly moved away, wiping the rainwater dripping from him. “Perhaps he did. I haven’t explored every cupboard. Even if there are candles, unless there is flint and tinder as well, we’re out of luck.”

“I think I still have mine,” Findis said, pulling at one of the pouches still on her belt, opening it and rummaging about. “Yes, here it is. I’d forgotten all about it.”

“Good. Ah… here! I found some candles.” He pulled out a couple of fat candles from one of the cupboards and plopped them on the table while Findis fiddled with the flint and tinder, lighting the wicks. Once that was done, Valandur went and closed the door again. Thunder rumbled, fading away.

“How long do you think the storm will last?” Findis asked as Valandur joined her at the table, the inside of the tree feeling dark and intimate with only the soft glow of the candles illuminating it.

“Sorry. I have no idea,” Valandur replied. “It will last as long as the Valar will it to last, I suppose.”

“Odd that it came up so suddenly without warning as we sat here discussing you going for help,” Findis commented. “It’s almost as if someone does not wish us to be separated.”

“Why, though? I cannot imagine the Valar not wanting us to be found, can you? Your family and my friends must be frantic.”

Findis shrugged. “You may be right. Perhaps I am just naturally suspicious.”

“As soon as this storm passes, though, I will set out,” Valandur said. “It cannot last forever and if someone wants us to remain here indefinitely, they’ll need to come around and restock the cupboards. The coimas won’t last that long, after all.”

Findis laughed. “Well, while we are waiting out the storm, perhaps we can while the time away with song or, better yet, tell me something of your adventures crossing the Outer Lands.”

Valandur raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Let me get some coimas and water for us to feast on first.” At her nod, he stood and rummaged about the cupboards. “Well, I suppose I should start with describing the first time Lord Oromë came to us,” he said as he brought some of the waybread and a beaker of water to the table. “I remember I was playing with my friends by the shore of the bay, skipping stones, and….”

****

The storm lasted longer than they anticipated. Meanwhile, Valandur continued to regale Findis with his tales of all that he had seen and experienced while crossing the breadth of Middle-earth. At one point, realizing they hadn’t heard the rumble of thunder for a time, Valandur got up and opened the door to find that there was a steady downpour.

“I think the worst of it is over,” he commented as he returned to the table, leaving the door open, giving them more light and fresh air.

“Wait until it lets up more before leaving, though,” Findis said. “You were just coming to the good part of your tale, I deem, and I want to hear the rest before you go.”

Valandur laughed. “Very well, melda. Where was I? Oh, yes. Lord Ulmo coming and ferrying us on the island to Valinor. There really isn’t much more to tell. It took some time I suppose for the island to reach these shores and I and my companions spent it exploring. It’s a fair land, actually, and I was not too surprised to hear that King Olwë and the Teleri were reluctant to leave it once they arrived. It’s a pity no one lives there now. Well, perhaps someday some adventurous souls will return to it when they decide Eldamar is too tame.”

“Would you go?” Findis asked.

Valandur shrugged. “I do not know. Probably not. I’ve had my fill of adventure and all I want is to return to Vanyamar and resume my teaching and studying.”

Findis appeared pensive but then she glanced out the door and smiled. “Oh look! The rain has ceased. Why don’t you gather some supplies to take with you and be on your way?”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” Valandur asked teasingly.

“No, but the sooner you are gone, the sooner you are back with help.”

“Yes, that’s true. Let me see if I can find something to carry the coimas in and I will take one of these beakers of water. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find a water source along the way to fill it if I need to.”

“Take two of them,” Findis suggested as Valandur began puttering about, looking for a sack or pouch in which to store the waybread. “There are plenty of beakers.”

“I’m going to make up some more of the poultice. I want you to apply it to your ankle whenever the paste dries out.”

So saying, he stepped outside with the intention of harvesting more herbs but he came swiftly back.

“Val, what—oh!”

Standing at the doorway was a stranger, one who appeared to be an Elf. He was dressed in a leather vest over a forest green shirt and leather leggings. His dark hair was oddly braided with front braids intertwined with strands of silver and his eyes were a startling emerald green. He carried a bow that was nearly as tall as he was. It appeared to be made from a greyish wood unfamiliar to them and was chased with silver. A quiver of arrows was slung on his back.

“Greetings, my friends,” the stranger said with a smile. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Oh, is this place yours?” Findis asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” the stranger said. “Lord Oromë created it for my use though I am more likely to camp in the branches of the tree instead.”

“How?” Valandur asked. “The nearest branch is too high up to jump to.”

The stranger smiled. “Well, I have my ways,” was all he said. “Now, I take it you are lost. I am Tilion, by the way.”

Valandur and Findis introduced themselves. Tilion gave them a surprised look. “Finwë’s daughter! Well, that is a bit of news.”

“How far is it to the nearest settlement?” Valandur asked. “I am about to leave and go for help.”

“Hmm… that’s several Minglings’ walk from here,” Tilion said. “I think that you had best let me go for help.”

“You? Why you?” Valandur demanded perhaps more sharply than he intended, casting a suspicious eye on the stranger.

If Tilion was upset by Valandur’s attitude, he did not show it, merely smiling. “You cannot see it from here, for it lies beyond the horizon, but a woods separates us from the Fiefdoms. It is trackless and you can easily get lost in it. Also, you have no idea just where the settlement is.”

“And you do?” Findis asked before Valandur could.

Tilion nodded. “I am well familiar with every branch and root in my lord’s Forests, Lady Findis.” He turned to speak to Valandur. “I will go for help while you tend to the lady, for I can see she is injured. I will be swift and your rescue will be forthcoming.”

With that, he gave them a short bow and made to leave.

“Wait!” Valandur said, thrusting the sack of waybread into Tilion’s hands along with the beakers of water. “You’ll need these.”

Tilion smiled, handing it all back to Valandur. “Nay, I need them not.” And with that he left, running swiftly across the field. Valandur watched him go, wondering just who this providential stranger truly was. When a fold of the earth hid Tilion from him he sighed and turned to Findis.

“I’ll go see about finding more herbs for the poultice,” he said and at her nod he left.

****

Minglings came and went. Findis’ ankle healed enough that she was able to walk on it with care, though she was more than content enough to simply bring a chair outside and sit, letting the birds and squirrels come to her and eat out of her hands. Valandur was unaccountably restless and spent most of his time wandering through the area, either into the forest or across the fields, always being sure that their tree-cave was in sight. His explorations did yield treasures of berries and roots and such to supplement their diet, so he was happy enough to gather them, along with bouquets of wildflowers which he presented to Findis with a flourish and a chaste kiss.

They spoke a little concerning the stranger with Findis wondering about what sort of Elf would be content to wander alone through the Forests as he did without wishing the company of other Elves. Valandur, however, suspected that Tilion was something other than an Elf, but he kept his suspicions to himself, for he had no actual proof. Both wondered how much longer it would be before rescue came.

“Though, frankly, my foot is healed enough that we could certainly just leave,” Findis commented at one point as she sat in her chair while Valandur sat on the ground beside her feeding a couple of squirrels.

“And while we are happily wandering through a trackless forest heading east, our rescuers are but a few trees away heading west and neither party will know the other is so near, so when they come here and find us gone, they will be sore vexed,” he retorted with a grin and Findis laughed, acknowledging the logic of his words.

“Well, I suppose we will just have to put up with one another for a little while longer,” Findis said when she had calmed down.

“And do I bore you so?” Valandur asked with a teasing grin.

“Nay, you do not, though I fear I must bore you.”

“Why do you say that?” Valandur asked, frowning in puzzlement.

She shrugged, looking diffident. “Oh, I guess, because you’ve led such an exciting life and I have done nothing of import and….”

“Melda,” Valandur said softly, rising to his knees and taking her hands in his, bending down to kiss them. “You must not disparage yourself so. You may not have had the experiences that I have had, but you are interesting in your own right.”

“But how can you say that?” Findis protested. “I have done nothing….”

“It is not what you have done or not done that matters,” Valandur insisted. “It’s the fact that you are a unique creation from the mind of Ilúvatar, wholly yourself and no other, that makes you interesting. Indeed, it is something that applies to all. I would hope that you find me as interesting as the things I have done or seen in my life, that you would find me interesting even if I had done nothing of import except to be born.”

“Of course I find you interesting, Val,” she said, then paused for a moment before asking shyly, “What do you find so interesting about me?”

Valandur smiled. “Everything, but do you know what I found most interesting about you from the very first time we met?”

She shook her head.

“It was the way you speak.”

Findis blinked, as if unsure that she had heard correctly, staring down at him as he continued to kneel before her. “The way I speak? Not the color of my hair or the brightness of my eyes or the way my nose turns up or even the fullness of my bosom and the narrowness of my waist, but the way I speak?”

Valandur laughed. “All those things, surely, but you forget that as a lambengolmo, my first instinct is to listen and observe the ways in which people communicate. I found it fascinating the way your accent shifted between Vanyarin and Noldorin depending upon to whom you were speaking. I was enthralled by the turns of phrases you used that seemed uniquely yours and not stock idioms that everyone uses without thought or care. And, of course, the pure musicality of your voice that is a delight to hear.” He leaned over and planted a loving kiss on her cheek. “I fell in love with you for your voice, meldanya, for what elleth does not have lovely hair and bright eyes and a shapely body? But the voice, ah, the voice is so unique to ourselves.”

He started to rise, but she stayed him and he gave her a quizzical look. She did not speak, merely gazed into his eyes and then she leaned over and to his everlasting surprise she sought his mouth, kissing it gently, hesitantly, as if unsure of her welcome. She started to straighten but he reached out and placed his hand to the back of her head, and accepting the invitation, she bent down again and they both kissed, their eyes closed. The sweetness of her lips sent a thrill of joy through Valandur’s very soul and he felt that they could remain this way forever.

“Hey!”

Valandur suddenly felt himself being pushed roughly away from Findis and, opening his eyes, found himself staring up at Prince Fëanáro, who glared down at him. There were several others with him, including Captain Ornendil and Intarion, though he did not see Tilion. They all looked disconcerted.

“How dare you, sirrah!” the prince demanded. “How dare you touch my sister!”

“Fëanáro!” Findis cried out, her features darkening with anger as she jumped up. “How dare you! Valandur has done nothing wrong.”

“He was kissing you,” Fëanáro growled, never taking his eyes off of Valandur who wisely remained on the ground.

“Rather, I was kissing him,” Findis retorted. “And why do you care? You have no love for me.”

Fëanáro glared at her. “Nay, in that you are correct, but you are the daughter of the Noldóran and there are certain proprieties….”

“Oh bother, proprieties!” Findis shot back. “Now, stop acting the fool, Brother. Valandur has been the very soul of propriety and we have done nothing for which we need be ashamed.” She glared at the rescuers and then frowned. “Where’s Tilion?”

“Who? Oh, you mean the Maia who told us where to find you?” Fëanáro asked, giving them a shrug. “He disappeared as soon as we crossed the woods into these fields and told us where to find you.”

“Maia?” Findis asked, looking shocked. She turned to Valandur, who just shrugged as he stood up.

“I was not sure, but I thought perhaps he was a little too convenient for our needs in showing up as and when he did.”

“Well, it matters little now,” Intarion interjected before anyone else could speak. “The important thing is that you’ve been found. We’ve been going frantic looking for you. Why did you not stay by the stream?”

“We intended to,” Valandur answered, “but then we met this cat….”

“Cat?” Intarion asked in disbelief and the others looked equally nonplused.

“A very large cat,” Valandur replied, spreading his arms out to indicate the creature’s size. “It insisted we follow it and it brought us here to this… er… well, I call it a tree-cave for lack of anything better to call it.”

“Well, that’s all very interesting,” Fëanáro sneered, “but let us away. Atar said for us to come directly back as soon as we found you. Sister.” He offered his arm, but Findis just sniffed and purposely took Valandur’s arm, pulling him away, speaking all the while without bothering to look back at the others.

“Come along everyone. And put the chair back inside, will you, Brother? I so want a hot bath and a hot meal and clean clothes. Did you ever put the fires out, Intarion? And the child. Did she make it across the bridge safely? And where’s my hat? Did you ever find it? I lost it when we fell into the stream and….”

Valandur looked back to see Ornendil and Intarion trailing them and gave them a wry smile which they both returned. Further back, bringing up the rear, was Fëanáro glowering at them as Findis continued to chatter on as if they were strolling through Finwë Park instead of somewhere in the wilds of Aman.

****

Tyenya: Dear kinsman, literally ‘my thou’, with tye as an intimate 2nd person pronoun reserved for relatives and close friends.