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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 9 months ago

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The Guardian, Chapter 4

In which we finally get a look inside Mildrithe’s head and what she’s thinking/feeling about her new elf friend. As a reminder, Haldir and Mildrithe have just arrived at the closest warden post, where he intends to deliver her to the capable hands of someone else who can get her the rest of the way to Caras Galadhon for help while he goes back to his post to resume his duties. Except he’s not feeling great about that plan anymore. Parts one, two and three are available if you want to catch up. And, because I will use it until the end of time, here is the beloved official artwork of this story, courtesy of the many talents of @brigwife

*****

Mildrithe followed Haldir up a thin rope ladder and into yet another tree. Before the last few days, she would have found this odd, but he seemed to consider trees a perfectly natural place to spend time. And she didn’t mind. Nothing had ever hurt her while in a tree, and she couldn’t say the same for being on the ground.

Like the tall beech where the two of them had spent the previous night, this tree also had a shelter built into its boughs, but the two structures couldn’t have been more different. While last night’s dwelling place was a stark, bare platform, this one had multiple levels spaced throughout the branches, and each contained stores of food and weapons, bedrolls, blankets, water cisterns and other accessories of daily living. And most significantly, this platform had other people on it–people who looked much like Haldir, tall and strong with golden or white-blonde hair and pointed ears. Ellath, he had called them.

Her arrival on the platform drew a lot of interest, and she shrank a little from all the eyes suddenly on her. Haldir spoke rapidly to these ellath, and she guessed from the sound of her own name that he was explaining to them who she was and how she came to be there, though there was much that he still didn’t know, that she kept locked away in the back corners of her own mind. But his words took the attention off of her, and she used the moment to surreptitiously observe his companions.

Rúmil she had met, and he seemed to be closest to Haldir both in appearance and in manner, but there were six others who crowded around as he spoke. She had the distinct sense that Haldir was in charge–the others showed clear deference to him–and she wondered for a moment if he was the king of his people. But, then, he didn’t act like any king she had heard of, not when he spent his time wandering alone in a forest, climbing in and out of trees and eating only whatever small scraps of food he carried on him.

Her eyes swept back over the new faces. She found them all fascinating to look at, both so similar to the men she knew and yet also undefinably different, and she was staring intently when the words of her mother suddenly rang in her ears. “No one likes to be gawked at, Mildrithe.” The memory of that admonishment sent both a hot blush to her cheeks and a wrenching pain to her chest. She worked so hard not to have those memories, but still they came, unbidden, to remind her of her old life. She sniffled a little in an attempt to keep control of herself, and though he didn’t look down or break from the conversation he was having, Haldir heard the sniffle and his hand found hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

After a lengthy discussion, the group dispersed, each member going on to some specific task. Rúmil brought her water and food–fresh fruit, honeycomb and nuts–which she accepted eagerly, having gone days with no food at all and then being confined only to what Haldir had available in his small pack. She dug in with enthusiasm, making a bit of a mess with the sticky honey, and for a time she thought of nothing but sating her own hunger. Halfway through her rations, however, the words of her mother once again sprang unexpectedly to her mind –“what’s ours is ours to share”—and the sting of remembrance did not stop her from turning obediently to look for Haldir, to ensure he had food of his own. He sat alone a short distance away, looking sorrowfully at a small white flower that he turned between his fingers. She recognized it right away as the niphredil flower she had given him the day before, and the unhappiness of his expression sent a warning chill through her. Something was wrong, but she had no idea what it could be.

As she picked at the remains of her food and tried not to brood on the meaning behind his sadness, the other wardens around him were busy stocking several packs in preparation for some kind of departure. Eventually a pack was handed to her, and she looked inside to find her own water canteen, some wrapped food, and a blanket. Any notion that they were going to stay here at this strange little tree camp faded quickly from her mind, and she was not surprised when Haldir and Rúmil gestured for her to follow them back to the ground just a few minutes later.

Rúmil and two others hoisted packs to their shoulders, and Haldir helped to secure hers to her back with several straps. She accepted the help but watched with rising concern as he made no move to lift his own pack or join the little group of travelers. The food she had just eaten suddenly felt like lead in her stomach, and she stared into the deep blue of his eyes, trying to force some kind of sign or acknowledgment that would quiet her fears and assure her that she was drawing the wrong conclusions from the activity around her. Instead, he looked away, and her concern edged toward panic.

When the others seemed ready to leave at last, a few final words were exchanged between Haldir and Rúmil, and then Haldir knelt down in front of her. He opened his mouth as though to speak but thought better of it and took her hand instead, holding it between both of his. When he released his grip, the niphredil blossom sat in her palm. He turned away quickly, rubbing a hand roughly across his chin, and went to stand by the ladder, looking down at the ground as Rúmil lightly gripped her elbow and tugged her into motion.

She staggered forward in unthinking compliance, but each time a foot struck the ground a voice in her head screamed at her to stop. Not to move even a single step further away from the one person she trusted. Tears welled up in her eyes and started to slide down her cheeks, and by the tenth step the voice in her head was so loud that she clutched at her own ears. It made no sense, even in her own mind, to be so attached to him already, but the feeling was undeniably there. He had shown her true kindness, the first person in her life for many months who didn’t want to scare her or hurt her or use her. He was awkward, but he was gentle. Her heart told her that he was safe. That he was good. And she absolutely didn’t want to be parted from him now in order to go on with total strangers.

She looked back over her shoulder in desperation, and when her eyes met Haldir's, a sob ripped through her. Her view of him blurred through her tears and she whimpered his name, but always she felt Rúmil’s hand on her arm, pulling her onward.

“Daro!”

The word exploded from Haldir’s lips and echoed in the trees. Rúmil dropped her elbow and came to a halt, and she used the freed arm to wipe a sleeve across her eyes. With some tears cleared away, she could see Haldir rushing forward, his pack in his hand. He spoke urgently to Rúmil, pointing both back in the direction they had come and forward in the direction they were headed. Rúmil interjected a few times, but before long he raised his hands in a gesture of concession and turned to head back to the tree camp. The other two wardens in the traveling group, Esgalorn and Mirdanion, exchanged looks with one another, brows raised. But neither said anything, and Haldir ignored them. He used the corner of his cloak to wipe the remaining tears from her face, took her hand, and started walking.

The immensity of her relief brought a whole new energy to her spirit. She felt that she could have easily sprinted the entire distance to wherever they were going, though, in fact, she had no idea where that was or how long it would take. But she hustled along at his side anyway, and whenever he glanced down at her, she beamed at him, eager to show just how glad she was to be with him. He always smiled back, but once his eyes were looking forward again the smile would fade. Something still seemed to weigh on his mind, and she reasoned that he was probably worrying about what would happen next, once they arrived wherever they were headed. She had been that way once, too—thinking about the future, making plans, trying to anticipate later problems or griefs—but not anymore. If the last year had taught her anything, it was that the future couldn’t be counted on. All she had was the present and how she felt in the here and now. And right now, at his side, was good. She wished she could tell him that.

The four of them traveled on for the rest of the day, Haldir and Mildrithe together in front and Mirdanion and Esgalorn following behind, keeping up a steady patter of conversation between them. The sound of their words faded into background noise to Mildrithe, and she focused only on what was immediately in front of her. She hopped in and out of the dappled shadows cast on the ground by the swaying, leafy branches above and tracked the sun as it worked its way across the sky. Eventually twilight settled on the forest, the first bright stars appearing in the purplish-blue overhead, and Mildrithe had just begun to wonder whether they were going to spend the night at another makeshift camp when Haldir pointed to faint, twinkling lights on the horizon. Some large city or settlement lay ahead, just across a narrow moat and behind a large, circular wall of green earth. They soon picked up a path that skirted along the wall and at last reached a set of great silver gates. Inside was a city unlike anything Mildrithe had ever imagined.

Caras Galadhon was filled with immense golden-leaved trees, each with a silvery smooth trunk, and the entire city was built into their canopy. White ladders led into many of the trees while others had wooden staircases that wound around the trunks and up into the highest boughs. Lanterns bobbed in the branches, throwing out little golden halos of light, and in this glow could be seen people moving to and fro—tall, graceful people, more of the ellath that Mildrithe was now growing used to seeing. But even as elves were becoming a normal presence in her life, their city took her breath away, and she stopped in her tracks to gape about her. Her mind rushed to catalog beautiful details, to automatically store them away so that she could later describe even a fraction of the magic of this place to her unbelieving family back home, and only the painfully sharp self-correction that she would never have that chance was enough to break the spell of her awe and amazement. She dug her fingernails into her palm, pushing until the stinging in her hand drew her mind away from the feelings and memories that had begun to seep back into her thoughts, and then she hurried after Haldir toward a hill where the largest tree she had ever seen sat like a crown atop the slope.

Someone dressed all in white came down a set of stairs from the tree, moving so smoothly and calmly he almost appeared to float. Esgalorn and Mirdanion bowed, and she noted that even Haldir gave this new figure deep respect. He was clearly someone of importance in the city, perhaps their leader, and so when Haldir gestured for her to come forward, she also bowed. This seemed to amuse the leader, and she hoped that was a good sign, an indication that she would be viewed with favor. He bent down and took a long, slow look at her, and though the scrutiny made her uncomfortable, she didn’t feel that his eyes had any hostility in them. He seemed rather to be gathering information, able to discern far more about her from just his penetrating gaze than she could ever determine from merely looking back at him. She shifted nervously on her feet until he stood at last and turned back to Haldir. A short, low conversation between them followed, and when some point of agreement seemed to be reached, he nodded to Haldir and to her before reascending the stairs, gliding off out of sight.

Hadir dismissed Esgalorn and Mirdanion, who turned off in another direction, and then led Mildrithe down a series of curved paths away from the center of the city. It had by now grown dark, but the pathways and trees were well lit and Haldir seemed certain of his route. She assumed they were headed to a place where they could rest for the night, and their surroundings did get quieter and less crowded as they went. At last, he stopped at the foot of a curved staircase that led up into yet another tree dwelling. He patted a hand against his chest and pointed up the stairs, repeating the gesture several times until he seemed confident that she understood. “Mine,” was her interpretation, and as she followed him up the stairs, she felt a wave of excited curiosity at the idea of seeing his home, the private space where he would be most himself.

The sound of her little boots clomping on the stair treads reverberated in the trees, and soon a curious face appeared at a railing above, drawn by the unexpected noise. A woman peered down at them, and when she saw Haldir on the landing she gave a small gasp and began to run toward him, holding up the hem of her dress so that she could race down the stairs at maximum speed. She had the same elegant beauty and pointed ears as everyone else in the city, though her hair and eyes were both a rich dark brown, and her face was lit up by a wide, brilliant smile. Haldir dropped his pack in just enough time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms, and he spun her around, laughing and smiling with a joyful ease that Mildrithe had never seen from him. She watched their affectionate reunion with unabashed fascination, and her questions about who this woman could be were soon answered when they shared a deep, loving kiss. An inadvertent giggle popped out of Mildrithe’s mouth at the sight of that kiss, and the couple quickly separated, blushing but still smiling at one another.

Haldir rushed through a bunch of words, gesturing repeatedly at Mildrithe, who stood up extra straight and smoothed a hand quickly over her hair and down the front of her dress. If this woman was important to Haldir, then she was important to Mildrithe, and she wanted to make the best possible first impression. At last, he spoke Mildrithe’s name and then pointed to the woman. “Idhrien,” he said slowly and clearly, a hand on his wife’s arm. Mildrithe smiled at her and proudly repeated the words of greeting she had heard at the forest post. “Mae govannen, Idhrien.”

Idhrien stooped down in front of her until she was at Mildrithe’s eye level, and returned the smile. “Westu Mildrithe hal,” she said, and Mildrithe’s heart cracked open in her chest.

She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had heard her own language, since she had even that most basic comfort of being able to understand what was being said around her and about her. Over time, her awareness of the loss had dulled, but just to hear those few short words now brought back a feeling of warmth and familiarity that she had desperately missed. She would have wept with gratitude if she wasn’t also so eager to speak and to listen now that she finally could.

“How…how do you know those words?”

“My brother was a great lover of languages,” said Idhrien, “and he spent a fair amount of time traveling in your land and learning what he could. He then taught it to me so that he would have someone to practice with when he was home in Lórien.”

“Lórien?”

“That’s where you are. Haldir found you on our borders and brought you here to our chief city. He tells me that you’ve made a very long journey and that you’ve been a very brave girl. He’s proud of you.”

Mildrithe blushed with pleasure at the compliment and looked up at him, watching attentively from his wife’s side. “I want to thank him, but I don’t know how.”

Idhrien smiled again. “Don’t worry. He already knows.”

She stood and gestured for Mildrithe to follow, and they went the rest of the way up the stairs. Once inside their home, they gave her more food and water and a comfortable place to sit with soft cushions and a warm blanket. Idhrien offered her the chance to rest or to take a bath, but there was nothing Mildrithe wanted to do more than to talk—or, more precisely, to ask questions. She had a steady stream of them, about Lórien and elves, about living in a tree, about Haldir and what a marchwarden does, and Idhrien patiently answered them all, taking time to translate for Haldir as she went.

These were all things Mildrithe wanted to know, but they were also safe questions, about other things and other people. She studiously avoided any question about what might be planned for her—where she would go, who she would be with—because she wasn’t at all sure she would like the answer. But eventually, Idhrien seemed to notice the evasion, and she gently curtailed Mildrithe’s questions with one of her own.

“Would you like to know what’s going to happen now that you’re here?”

Mildrithe hugged a pillow to her chest, torn about how to answer. She didn’t want to say yes, but neither did she think she could say no. She settled instead on a vague, non-committal hummed noise.

“Right now, you’ll stay here with us until the Lord and Lady decide what’s to be done. You have nothing to fear from them; they’re good and kind people. Haldir has told Lord Celeborn what he knows, but they will surely have more questions about where you’re from and where you belong. Can you tell us about your home? Your family?”

Mildrithe’s initial joy at being allowed to stay with Haldir and Idhrien was replaced immediately by a heavy anxiety that flooded into her chest. To even think about her home and family was to break her own cardinal rule, and to talk about them with others—to say the words out loud and thereby make those words real—was unthinkable. Her little face grew hot, and she bunched up her skirt in her fists.

“Mildrithe? Are you alright?”

Idhrien was looking at her with real concern, but that only intensified Mildrithe’s distress. The last thing she wanted to do was to disappoint or upset them, but she had never told this story to anyone else. And she was terrified to do it now.

Haldir reached across to take Mildrithe’s hand, and he spoke to her directly for several moments. When he was done, he nodded at Idhrien.

“He says that he understands that you’re afraid, but he promises to keep you safe. He was honored to have your trust when you were together in the forest, and he hopes that you will honor him again by continuing to trust him now.”

Mildrithe looked from his hand up to his steady, calm eyes. The same eyes that had found her when she was lost. Watched over her while she slept. Noticed when she was hungry or thirsty or in pain. He had protected her at every turn, and he had offered her comfort and affection when even she could recognize that it wasn’t always easy for him to show his feelings. A realization slowly dawned on her–if she couldn’t share this pain with someone like him, someone who had shown her so much care, then she might never be able to share it with anyone. And the prospect of carrying it alone, perhaps for all the days of her life, suddenly felt much more terrifying than facing it together with him now.

She stood and inched hesitantly toward him, and he understood her intention right away, lifting her up to sit on his lap. She leaned her cheek against his chest, and for a time all three of them sat in silence, with only their quiet breathing and the soft beating of Haldir’s heart in her ear. And just when he began to wonder whether she had perhaps drifted off to sleep, she opened her mouth and began her story.

*****

Notes: “Daro” means “stop”/“halt”.

Idhrien (which means “thoughtful”) started life as a reader character in my Haldir story Three Weeks on the Nimrodel. She’s the same person here, just with a name. She’s a city warden in Caras Galadhon, though she and Haldir met and fell in love when she was posted temporarily to the border and found a way past his natural reserve and introversion by respecting it and making him feel at ease as himself. Even in that story, she had a brother that traveled in Rohan and taught her Rohirric, so that worked out well here, too!

I don’t have a super clear idea of where the next chapter is going, so it may take me a while. Just FYI.

#lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #haldir #mildrithe #sweet reserved guys with the little girls who melt their hearts

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 9 months ago

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The Guardian, Chapter 5

In which we find out how Mildrithe ended up in Haldir’s care and some momentous decisions are made about her future. This is the last formal chapter, though there is an epilogue still to come. Prior chapters are here: one, two, three and four.

For the final time, here’s what I’ve deemed the official art of this little story, drawn by the very generous @brigwife

**********

It was late into the night by the time Mildrithe had finished relating her tale and later still before she had calmed enough to attempt any rest. Idhrien helped her to wash her face with a cool cloth to soothe her red, puffy eyes, and Haldir sat with her at their bedside, keeping a quiet watch until she finally gave in to exhaustion and drifted to sleep.

When he emerged from the bedroom at last, Idhrien was waiting for him, and she took note of his bowed head and slumped shoulders as he closed the door behind himself.

“It’s difficult to hear so much talk of violence and death from one so young,” she said, looping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. “But take comfort in knowing that you brought her to safety. Whatever happened in her past, her future doesn’t have to look like that anymore.”

“I fear it will be a long time before she can put that past behind her. If ever. Any one piece of her story would be hard enough on its own, but when you put them together…” The sentence drifted to an end, and he looked down at the floor. He had seen his share of brutality and tragedy over the ages – far more than any mortal would ever see during their brief time in Middle Earth – but he had a peaceful childhood first. His parents had shielded him from the worst of the world, kept him from learning the hardest truths until he was old enough to better understand them. To have had those truths thrust upon him at such a tender age as Mildrithe’s was unimaginable to him. He wasn’t certain he would have recovered.

“Children are resilient, Haldir. She has a will to live, or she wouldn’t have made it this far. She can still thrive. And if she hasn’t given up, neither should you.”

She tightened her arms around him, and the combination of her words and her grip put strength back into his spine. He straightened his shoulders and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “You’re right. Fate has dealt her some heavy blows, but it also put her in our path. And maybe we can help to fix it all now.”

They sat together at a small table and went back over every part of Mildrithe’s story, trying to isolate the details that might lead them to an idea of where she belonged and how to return her there. It was a confusing chain of events, pieced together from the incomplete knowledge of one far too young to comprehend the entirety of her own situation. He already knew the end of the tale – that when the company she was traveling with had been set upon by orcs, she fled to the nearby forest during the chaos – but the beginnings were much harder to decipher. Mildrithe gave them the name of her village, but she had no sense of where it sat within the borders of Rohan. She described an unexpected attack in the night but had no real idea who the attackers were or what motives they had. And when those attackers, mocking and contemptuous, had carried her off as the sole survivor of the village, she knew the misery and terror of that long journey but not its intended destination or purpose.

Her story had come out in irregular bursts, moving quickly and more assuredly over the parts that involved only herself, but lingering painfully on the descriptions of those who were now gone – friends, neighbors, her parents, an aged grandfather, and a beloved older sister, whose last act had been to shove Mildrithe into the small closet where she had weathered the worst of the fighting that night. All those loving presences in her life, cut down in a few short minutes, existed now only in her memories, which were themselves tenuous and fragmented.

“We have the name of the village. Surely we could find it and deliver her there,” said Idhrien. “We have maps, and the people of Rohan could steer us as needed.”

“But by her telling, the village no longer stands. It was burned to the ground when she last saw it, and who would have been left to rebuild? If she seemed certain of one thing, it was that she was the only one to make it out of there alive.” He rubbed a hand across his face and frowned. “What about the uncle she mentioned? The one who journeyed a long distance to visit them at Yule last year? If he lived elsewhere, then he likely survives, and we may be able to find him.”

Idhrien shook her head. “Haleth is a very common name in Rohan. With only that to go by and no idea of where to look, I fear it would be searching for a single leaf in the forest.”

They sat for a few minutes in quiet thought, both hoping for some inspiration to guide their fruitless efforts. When none came, he stood to pace and stopped only when the first hint of morning sun appeared in the window, throwing a warm square of light into his path back and forth across the floor. He sighed.

“I told Lord Celeborn last night that I would be back early to discuss the situation with him more fully. Perhaps I should go now before she wakes up again. Can you stay with her until I’m back?”

“Of course.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m sure he’ll know what to do. He always does. If she wants to return to Rohan, he’ll find the right place for her to go.”

Haldir nodded and slipped out the door, and he was halfway down the stairs before his wife’s final sentence echoed back on him with enough force to stop him in his tracks. If she wants to return. All of his plans until this very moment had pointed in the same direction – to find a way to safely reunite Mildrithe with her people. But if those closest to her were all gone, if her only memories in Rohan were tainted now by heartbreak and fear…would she even want to go? It was the simplest of questions and, yet, one he hadn’t even considered. And as he pondered it now, it led him directly to an even more unexpected thought, one that dominated his mind as he walked back to the center of the city: maybe she could stay.

***

Celeborn was ready to receive him despite the early hour, and he listened carefully to Haldir’s recitation of all that he had learned from Mildrithe during the night.

“So there is no way to find a living member of her family to take charge of her in Rohan?”

“That seems to be the case,” said Haldir. “Unless you can see a clue that I’ve missed.”

“It’s a shame.” Celeborn shook his head slightly. “But if no family of her own can be found, then the Rohirrim will find a new family for her. It will be a more complicated matter to make the appropriate inquiries, but I’m sure it can be managed. Will you and Idhrien continue to care for her until we’ve made the right arrangements?”

“Yes, Lord Celeborn. If she has to return, we can—”

“If?” Celeborn cut in and fixed him with a long stare. “I was not aware there was any question on that point, Captain.”

The intensity of his gaze sent a flush creeping across Haldir’s cheeks and neck. He hadn’t intended to provoke a debate, but Idhrien’s words were still fresh in his mind and the ‘if’ came out before he had even realized it. “I only meant that she may not be eager to go back, given all that happened there.”

“So you propose that we keep this child in Lórien instead?”

“I’m not proposing anything.” The conversation felt like it was slipping out of Haldir’s control, the words getting ahead of his own thoughts. “I merely suggest that if it made her happy to stay here, such a thing could be possible.”

“Anything is possible. That doesn’t make it advisable. She’s a child of the plains, a mortal with no connection to our people or our way of life. She doesn’t belong in our forest, where she will be without peers. Without anyone who can truly understand her or know her feelings and experiences by instinct rather than only by careful study. She will be better served by being sent back.”

Everything he heard sounded both sensible and wise to Haldir, and yet something deep within him continued to resist. And to his amazement, he found himself arguing with the most powerful man in Lórien. “But Lord Celeborn, she would not be the first child of Men to live among the elves. It’s been done before with success.”

“And it has also led to ruin and destruction.” Celeborn sighed and softened his tone. “I do not mean to compare this little Rohirrim to the likes of Túrin Turambar. There is no shadow in her spirit, I could see that well enough myself last night. But the Men who have lived successfully with elves did so because they had a connection to us already. Estel did not just wander into Imladris to live with a stranger. His coming was part of a longstanding tradition, and he was already known to Elrond. This Rohirrim has no one here.”

“She has me.” His words surprised even himself as they came from his mouth, so quick and so certain. But once they were spoken, he knew they were true feelings of his heart. He raised his chin and met Celeborn’s eye.

“So that’s what this is about? Your wish isn’t just to see her stay in Lórien, but to see her stay with you.” He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “If she wants to return to Rohan, you will take her, Captain. If she wants to stay, I won’t presume to tell you or Idhrien what to do with your own household. But I urge you to think this through. What seems like a good idea now may be something you all grow to regret in the future. Decide carefully.”

He rose to leave, and Haldir bowed his head before turning to walk back home again.

He couldn’t really account for his own words and behavior that morning. The depth of his attachment to Mildrithe continued to surprise him. As someone who always knew his own mind, it was disorienting to discover his feelings only as they came from his lips. And even while he was still reeling from those discoveries, the invocation of Idhrien sent a fresh wave of uncertainty over him. He had discussed none of this with her in advance and had no real idea how she would feel about his burgeoning hope to keep Mildrithe in his life. Their partnership was sacred to him, and he would do nothing that lacked Idhrien’s full support. But he felt a nervous flutter in his chest at just the idea of raising the question, and he hurried his steps to get back to her as quickly as possible.

***

When he returned home, Idhrien was no longer at the little table in the front room. He could hear the quiet murmur of voices from further back and followed them to the doorway of his bedroom.

Mildrithe was awake again and wearing one of Idhrien’s tunics as a dress. They were curled up together, and Idhrien had one of his sketchbooks in her hand, the one he used to create little forest scenes during his off hours on patrol. She was turning the pages for Mildrithe slowly and talking about the scenes as she went, spinning an impromptu tale that he couldn’t understand but that seemed to hold Mildrithe’s rapt attention.

He kept quiet and stood just outside the room, watching the two of them cuddled together and looking so comfortable. So natural. So right. A powerful feeling welled up in his chest, a rush of happiness and contentment mixed with melancholy and longing, and a thought crystalized in his mind with absolute clarity. This is something that I want.

Idhrien broke off mid-sentence to look up in his direction, and he realized that she had heard his thought in her own mind. She gazed at him for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before Mildrithe, too, looked up and saw him there. She rushed out a bunch of enthusiastic sentences, pointing frequently to the sketchbook, and he waited patiently until she was finished and Idhrien could translate for him.

“She likes your pictures of the fox and the fawn, and we’ve decided that they met and became friends in the forest. She wants you to teach her to draw so that she can make a whole book about their adventures together.”

He smiled. “I would be happy to teach the fawn how to draw.”

Idhrien set the sketchbook aside and said a few words to Mildrithe, and they rose from bed to have breakfast now that Haldir had returned. Idhrien nearly emptied their pantry, piling options onto the table for Mildrithe to choose from, and soon she was deep into her own enjoyment as she sampled all sorts of cakes and breads and fruits that were new to her. With Mildrithe thus engaged, Haldir took a seat at Idhrien’s side and covered her hand with his.

“You must think me irrational and foolish.”

“You’re many things, Haldir, but you have never been either of those. I know you and your heart. You are not a rash person. If this is something you feel drawn to, I know that it must be a deeply rooted feeling.”

“That doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous how? That you see someone in need and want to help? That you had an intense experience that bonded you together? That you have love in your heart to give?”

He squeezed her hand. “That I could expect my wife to share those inclinations suddenly and without warning?”

She sat back in her seat and took a long, deep breath. “It would be ridiculous to think that I could understand everything of Mildrithe and your experience together from the small time I’ve had to take it in. But my natural impulse is to want to support you in all things, just as you do for me. And it’s not as though we’ve never talked about having young ones around.”

“This is very different than an elf child of our own making.”

“Yes. And you should go into this very clear-eyed about the implications and consequences of that. For her and for us.” She smiled at him. “But I am willing to try.”

He pressed her hand to his lips, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, but she leaned in closer to him and looked him directly in the eye.

“But Haldir, she must want to stay. The choice must be hers, always.”

They both looked over at Mildrithe, who peered up at them from behind her pile of treats, aware from the energy in the room that something momentous was being discussed.

“Will you tell her?” he asked. “Explain to her what her choices are. Make sure she understands what they both mean and that only she controls the choice. That she can take as much time as she needs or ask as many questions as she wants or change her mind at any point.”

Idhrien drew her chair closer to Mildrithe and spoke for many long minutes. Mildrithe asked one or two questions but otherwise sat in silence. At times, her eyes widened or brow furrowed, and she looked increasingly troubled the longer that Idhrien spoke. He took a few deep breaths, readying his own expectations and making sure that he could greet whatever response she gave without outward disappointment on his face.

When Idhrien finally finished speaking, Mildrithe turned to Haldir once more and asked him a question directly. A tear or two welled up in Idhrien’s eyes as she listened, and he watched anxiously, unsure of what could be said that would have that effect on her.

“She asks if you think her parents would be disappointed in her for leaving Rohan.”

He swallowed hard on the lump that immediately formed in his own throat. Having been through so much, she was still thinking of others, and his heart wrung with pity. He reached across the table to take her hand. “I think they would be sad about what has happened, but they would be even prouder of you for how strong you are. And more than anything, they would want you to be happy. That’s all that any of us want. Choose whatever will make you happiest.”

Mildrithe listened to the translated answer and thought quietly for several minutes before speaking again to Idhrien.

“She wants to tell you something herself.” Idhrien nodded at Mildrithe, who got up and walked around the table until she was standing before Haldir.

She looked him directly in the eye and tapped her own chest before uttering one of the only words they had in common: “Lórien.”

He drew in a sharp breath, hardly daring to believe that he understood her correctly, but a quick glance at Idhrien confirmed everything and he thought his heart might soar right out of his chest. He scooped up Mildrithe and reached for Idhrien, and for a time he held onto them both, his mind bouncing rapidly from joy to terror to wonder and relief. Amidst all the turmoil, though, one feeling rose above the others, and he breathed out that feeling in his very first words to his new family. “Thank you.”

**********

Note: You’ll see an appearance of osanwé here, a concept Tolkien developed but didn’t often use explicitly. It means, essentially, the interchange of thought, and all peoples are capable of doing it as long as both minds are willing/open (though humans rarely master it, so it’s much more common among Ainur and elves). That’s canon. And I think because they are married and their connection is so deep, it can happen between Haldir and Idhrien even when he isn’t consciously intending it. As partners, their default is to be always open to each other, and when he has an insight as powerful as this one was, he can’t help but share it with her even before he realizes that’s what he’s doing.

@emmanuellececchi @konartiste as requested

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