The Great Tales of Beleriand: Definitive Edition by Chilled in Hithlum

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Part Ten: Malady, Milady

A brief episode of motherly and brotherly concern...

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The Great Tales of Beleriand

 

Part Ten: Malady, Milady…

 

Eithel Sirion, early spring…

[A lady writes at a desk…]

 

Voice of Hareth: “My Dear Father… Finally the days lengthen and we are able to reassume our correspondence. It is wise I deem to first give thanks that the peace lasted throughout winter and I pray and trust that Brethil remains untroubled. Though I deem also that these tenuous strands are ever like to snap at any moment in some affray across the land; rumours of which at all times come overblown in the fear of some new escalation by the Enemy. This war is all anybody speaks of, it is intolerable; that and the only other topic in wintertime, the festival of Yule! The latter was a spartan affair this year, even in the Hall of Fingon; the noble High King maintained that it would be unfeeling to overindulge in times such as these, yet he insisted that all his lords and ladies attend the board. For myself I would have much rather removed to our seat in Dor-lómin but Galdor, my beloved lord and husband, endures in his devotion to duty our Elven Sire and will not leave his side…”

[She rises and placing down her quill Hareth walks to a window…]

Hareth: “Oh my boys, where are you?”

[She pauses half expecting a reply, slumping in despondency at the harsh silence she returns to her task…]

Voice of Hareth: “Forgive me Father I must not complain, there is naught else to want for in Dor-lómin that I do not want for here; indeed from that place but recently there came grim tidings…”

[The cadaver of lady lies in sober repose…]

Voice of Hareth: “Alas, the Lady of Dorthonion departed this life at the turn of the year. How the king bemoaned it, he even had a lament composed in her name…”

[Fingon reads a notice in sorrow…]

Voice of Hareth: “Emeldir the Hale he named it, using such words as ail and frail; it was duly reverential with a lovely refrain, the essence of which spoke of separation and longing…”

Hareth: “A grief I understand all too well…”

Voice of Hareth: “I know the king is equitable and good-hearted but I envy him; I envy the love that my husband shares betwixt us both, the greater share I fear goes to him, and duty - duty! What of the duty owed to his wife, his children?”

[She thumps the desk in frustration and tearing up the letter she returns to the window. Rain spatters against the glass trickling down to distort the view of the world without. Presently she becomes flustered at the opening of her chamber door…]

Hareth: “Galdor: you return so soon?”

Galdor: “You seem surprised…”

Hareth: “Typically other duties call you hence at this hour: why would I not be?”

[She lights upon the torn strips on the bureau then to him, he is looking straight at her and about to say something; she runs across the room to embrace and kiss him…]

Hareth: “Of course I am surprised and pleasantly so; you just, well, surprised me is all…”

Galdor: “Then since this a moment for nice surprises I have another for you…”

Hareth: “Húrin, Huor; they are restored to us?”

Galdor: “Not that nice alas; Fingon has granted your request, we have leave to return to Dor-lómin whenever we wish…”

Hareth: “Ah, so you asked him then…”

Galdor: “It seemed important to you…”

Hareth: “Two moon-turns ago perhaps…”

Galdor: “I see…”

Hareth: “Oh, and what exactly is it that you see?”

[Looking rather stumped he searches the walls for an answer…]

Galdor: “I see that you have resumed writing to your father again…”

Hareth: “Yes, and what of it?”

Galdor: “That is good is it not; perhaps you might like to visit him in Brethil?”

Hareth: “So, just me then; yes, that should serve you well enough…”

Galdor: “Not at all, I love Halmir as well you know and I would be delighted to stay in his halls; we have six weeks to do whatever you wish…”

Hareth: “Six weeks: these are those the crumbs we should be grateful for, or did you not have the courage to ask for more?”

Galdor: “I asked for nothing, the king commanded it!”

Hareth: “Of course he did, how foolish of me…”

Galdor: “Would you rather he had not?”

Hareth: “I would rather have our sons back…”

[She repels his warm advance…]

Galdor: “So would I, Hareth, likewise so would Fingon…”

 

The Great Library, Gondolin….

 

[A young man reads alone…]

Voice of Hareth: “After the reported loss of Húrin and Huor, only once more did there come any outside communication on the matter. From Doriath an embroidery arrived of finest silk depicting a border of fruits and flowers, and within that in Elvish script it simply said ‘Hope is Alive’; this was discreetly initialled M. at the bottom right-hand corner… ”

[He is joined by another…]

Idril: “What news regarding your brother?”

Húrin: “Little change alas, the fever has not broken; I have not been permitted to sit with him for almost two days…”

Idril: “Have trust, the physicians know their craft!”

Húrin: “Elven craft ay, but I’ll wager that they have not dealt with the frailties of Men before now…”

Idril: “Perhaps not but there little that we Elves do not know regarding herb-lore, a remedy shall be found.”

Húrin: “Forgive me My Lady, I am overwrought with worry and have hardly slept. I told him to keep warm; for as our mother always says, a few bright days do not herald the end of winter!”

Idril: “A brother is not a mother!”

Húrin: “Nor am I trying to be, but… it is difficult to explain to one who does not sicken; we are mortal and our lives are short enough, the elder has an obligation to the younger!”

Idril: “Are you saying that since your brother is unwell then you are duty bound to be ill also?”

Húrin: “No, not at all!”

Idril: “I do not understand; to hear you speak and by your actions I cannot see any other outcome…”

Húrin: “Huor is my little brother and in the absence of my parents I am responsible for him!”

Idril: “How so?”

Húrin: “I have to keep him safe!”

Idril: “Now I am confused: did you not both come to this place via great birds with razor talons and severe beaks after being rescued from raiding Orcs, I ask you how is that keeping him safe?”

Húrin: “The circumstances were different then we were at war, moreover Halmir our grandfather did not impede his going out to fight!”

Idril: “And so because he was the elder, despite any misgivings, you did not gainsay his decision?”

Húrin: “There was no decision to gainsay as such since we did not ask permission to go; we just went - as we had many times before I would add!”

Idril: “Hmm, and if I recollect you said once that your uncle constrained your cousin, who is of an age with you, from going to that same battle lest he come to harm…”

Húrin: “As was his right as a father!”

Idril: “Quite so; why then as the elder to Huor did you not do the same?”

Húrin: “I know my brother’s strengths and besides he was with me!”

Idril: “And there it lies: Húrin, you cannot shadow every move your brother makes or govern his every decision, he has a will of his own and a strong one at that. I do not say leave him to fall into peril without a guide, but you must not attempt to live his life for him howsoever good your intent; that course can only lead to setback and illness for yourself.”

Húrin: “You are right of course: thank you!”

Idril: “Not at all, now go and get some rest!”

Húrin: “I shall…”

Idril: “There is one good thing to come out of all this you know…”

Húrin: “Oh yes..?”

Idril: “I doubt that Huor will go outdoors any time soon without an overcoat!”

[They share a laugh before Húrin retires…]