Left Behind by Himring

Chapter 3

Ulrica encounters another Son of Feanor--and it is a surprise for both of them.

'You're Ulrica? But you were dead!', said Maedhros, startled.

'Not quite,' answered Ulrica, bewildered.

How did this lord of the elves...?

She had tried to explain to Caranthir's people, when they got around to asking,  that she had no name. The horrified reaction that explanation evoked had made her so uneasy--as if she were being somehow pushed into defending her people's laws and customs, against her own interest--that it had seemed simpler to fall back on an old name she no longer had a right to. She had not expected anyone to recognize it.

Oh.

'Uldor told you about me. He mentioned my name to you?'

'He did.'

A moment of tense silence. She thought of Uldor talking, talking in the twilight, about the Eldar and their wondrous powers and talents, about Lord Maedhros and his kindness, about his own love for her. He had been speaking frantically, trying to convince himself, and she had heard, known even then it was not for real, and never believed more than half of it, even though in her hopelessness she had allowed herself to be briefly seduced by the dream.

'It is he who is dead, isn't he?' she asked, facing up to it.

She thought she had pieced it together already from what Caranthir's people had said or not said, but none had informed her outright, none guessed it might be a personal concern of hers. And it was not permitted to be a personal concern of hers, so she had not asked, until now.

'Yes.'

'Did you kill him?'

'I did not do it myself.'

All dreamed out; the dreamer dead on the battlefield and his name accursed. It had never been real, she had known it. Except that since then what she had believed to be reality and solid had crumbled about her as well...

'Ulrica?'

Her head was swimming. Her hands were clenched. The tall elven lord, the stranger, the enemy, was looking at her in concern, offering her a beaker full of water.

It was difficult to get her head around that. It had not been real, of course, any of it. But here, now, Maedhros, son of Feanor, called her by her name, the name Uldor had used. He was looking at her as if she had lost somebody, as if she had a right to mourn. Uldor had spoken of her to him, as he had spoken of Maedhros to her.

She accepted the beaker. It was well made, solid in her uncertain hand. The water was clean and cold.

Chapter End Notes

In this 'verse, Uldor was an outsider in his tribe. He was made ambassador to the Eldar and for a long time believed in his mission, ignoring his increasing doubts about both sides. He confided in Maedhros about his adulterous love for Ulrica, but was disappointed in Maedhros's reaction, as Maedhros warned him it was politically unwise. But Maedhros spoke even more truly than he knew, for when Uldor's brothers found out, they mistreated Ulrica and blackmailed Uldor. Uldor told Maedhros that Ulrica was dead and concealed successfully that he was being blackmailed.