Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Grief

Shattered dreams, lies and more...

 

This chapter fits several B2MeM 2012 prompts:

Discoveries - B4: The Rings of Power
Emotions - B9: Love, B14: Pain, I18: Grief, N33: Courage and G51: Cruelty

 

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32. Grief

 

I lost count of those dreadful days, but I was certain I had been Sauron’s captive for many months when one evening I heard the nervous shouting of soldiers without, and a flurry of barked orders and anxious whispers of those appointed to watch me; moreover, I had not been dragged before Ren for over four days. Something serious was afoot.

Therefore, I was not surprised when Sauron summoned me the following day. I was taken to what had once been Celebrimbor’s lavish apartments, and led into his huge bath chamber. As soon as I crossed the threshold, one of the four soldiers guarding me struck a harsh blow with the pole of his spear across the back of my legs, sending me sprawling onto the colourful mosaic floor. Trammelled by the chains, I rose to my knees with a struggle and looked up.

Surely it was no coincidence that Sauron received me as he was stepping out of a bath. His beautiful hröa glistened like wet marble, droplets sliding down his skin in all the places where I longed to touch. The sight of my emerald hanging upon his chest brought a gasp to my lips, of pain woven with hope.

With an indifferent glance in my direction, he allowed his servants to pat him dry with cloths warmed for that purpose on a large masonry coal stove. I watched avidly the shift of his muscles with every movement and the gentle play of light and shadow over the hröa I had loved to worship.

Reluctantly, my attention moved to the two shapely slaves who served him, a man and a woman. Both Quendi were naked, their hair shorn almost to the scalp, and a stark crimson mark, the size of my fist and in the shape of a flaming eye was boldly painted, nay, etched or burned above their hearts. In the woman’s eyes there was a faint glint of defiance, dulled by pain, but the man’s gaze was vacant; he had fled from reality to a safe place within oblivion or madness.

The woman began to comb Sauron’s damp hair, patiently working from its ends to the scalp, pausing several times to remove a snag with great care, while the man massaged perfumed oil over his master’s skin, head to toes.

‘What have you done to them?’ I cried.

‘I have claimed their bodies,’ he answered. ‘The mark is the handle to their hröar, which I command through pain or pleasure, even if their fëar, locked within, clamour for vengeance. Though the spell has ever been within my power, the Ring allows me to cast it in a very simple way. This method to force obedience is new, still crude, and never as satisfactory as true willingness, but sufficient while they refuse to yield. He has, and soon she will, too.’

A chill gripped my heart, bringing back the memory of times when I would have attended to him in the same ways, out of devotion and desire to please.

He waved them away, and they obeyed hastily.

‘You are still beautiful,’ he said, leaning down to study my face, ‘though I may have neglected you.’

My arms were pinned behind me, so I spat in his face. When he placed his ringed hand on my head, I felt his power channelled through it, reaching down and wrapping itself around my neck and chest in an invisible band that slowly tightened and began to choke me. The shackle I still wore thrummed in resonance with the Ring’s dark energy.

‘You know, Eönwë,’ he continued casually, as I fought for breath, ‘I could force one of these rings on you, and you would bend to my will unquestioningly. Sadly, it would crush that wild beauty I once tamed and ruin your graceful eagerness, freely given, that drove me mad with desire.’

He released me, and I bent to rest my forehead on the floor, dizzy and panting for air. When at last I recovered I glared up at him.

‘What shall I do with you while I lead my armies beyond Eregion, Eönwë?’ he said. My silence prompted him on. ‘Long ago, when you were loyal to me, I would have trusted my realm into your hands. But now... I would hate to turn you into a puppet like Ren.’ He crossed his arms over his bare chest, and began to trace circles on his chin with the tip of his index finger. Then he flicked his bottom lip several times, while his appraising gaze remained fixed on my face. ‘Did you know that you appear in his most secret dreams? Through the Ring I command all he is, including his desires, while he thrives on the power his trinket confers him. A fair exchange for both of us.’ He chuckled. ‘For now. I can see the lust in his eyes when he gazes upon you. Should I reward him?’

I shuddered, but squared my shoulders in defiance. His lips curled in amusement.

‘And there I was, foolishly believing I might have broken you. How I wish I could make you join our chains of Noldorin captives and drag you south to Harad and Mordor! I would so enjoy getting reacquainted with you, away from this tiresome war...’

My heart quickened. If there was a chance of a lingering fondness under his ruthlessness, I had to attempt to sway him one more time.

‘I swear I will obey you in all things if you release your prisoners and abandon the war,’ I begged. ‘I will be yours, if you would only let me save you.’

‘Too late, my beauty.’ I flinched at the use of his old endearment, spoken with a sadness that pierced me to the bone. ‘There is nothing to save, nothing to redeem.’

‘Then do what I ask if only for the affection you once felt for me,’ I cried.

‘That was no more than a ploy of seduction, Eönwë. Your masters wanted me to fall for their pet; I wished them to believe they had succeeded. This time it was your turn to chase a mirage, wrought to fool you. Nothing else. Did you think your pathetic wisp of happiness would last next to me, damned, warped and beyond salvation?’

‘Liar!’ I shouted. ‘You are twisting the truth to deny that once you loved me.’ I attempted to lunge at him, but the strong hands of the soldiers at my sides kept me in place.

Mairon looked at me with an odd expression on his face.

‘You shall see,’ he said at last.

Methodically, he clad himself in his black armour, and ordered the soldiers to bring me. Their dutiful prodding ensured that, despite the shackles, I shuffled my feet fast enough to keep up with him all the way down the stairs to the courtyard. A company of his personal guards stood at attention, awaiting his command.

Mairon faced me, and slowly reached under his breastplate. With a hard tug, he broke the mithril chain around his neck. Locking his gaze on mine, he pulled out the emerald from under his serpent armour, dropped it onto the stone ground and trod upon it, twisting his iron heel until I heard a sickening crack. When he lifted his foot, the gem was shattered to worthless crumbs.

Tears prickled at my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I lifted my head to stare at him. My rewards were a glint of pain and a strange quirk of his lips that betrayed the truth.

‘I know you are lying, Mairon,’ I whispered.

‘You think so?’ he snarled. ‘I shall prove how little you mean to me, and make sure that your hröa remembers me with nothing but loathing from now on.’

First he forced a bruising kiss on my lips, and then he slapped me. I tasted blood and my ear buzzed painfully.

He turned to the soldiers.

‘Take him away, lads; he is yours until we depart. This one will not wilt in your loving care. Just make sure he remains in one piece, or I'll feed you your own balls. I need him sane enough to deliver my answer to his master’s message.’

A loud cheer went up as I was grasped and groped by many eager hands.

 

The world had narrowed to a pulsing fog of sharp pain that seeped through skin, muscle and bone to tighten over my trapped being. My mind shrank away from the edge of reason, scoured empty of all but despair and the frantic urge to be freed from my screaming flesh.

My legs could not bear my weight and my tormentors had to carry me to Mairon’s presence, dropping my broken hröa at his feet. My skin crawled with revulsion at the memory of the foul touches forced upon me, next to which the smarting from the lash and the beatings had been an almost welcome diversion from far worse indignities.

With a mighty effort I raised my head and stared at him, though my left eye was swollen shut and my right was crusted with blood.

The flash of dismay on Mairon’s face, swiftly hidden behind his inscrutable mask was harder to bear than the degradation I had endured during those endless days and nights. The horror conveyed during that unguarded instant reasserted my belief that his feigned hatred was a ruse that had failed to convince either of us. My closeness still made him vulnerable. Possessive and jealous, handing me over to his minions must have been torment for him, too.

O Mairon, my beloved, how did we come to this?

Somewhere I found the strength and lucidity to speak.

‘I pity you.’

His eyes filled with hard edges.

‘Pity? You once asked me if I had a spell to chain the wills of others to mine. Now I have. I shall impose my rule, crushing all resistance until I wield control of the whole of Endórë. Why would I need your pity?’

‘Because one day you will regret the path you have taken and long for what is now lost to us, as I already rue my own choices.’

‘I shall regret nothing,’ he answered in an icy tone. ‘Unlike you, I will not be made into a thrall by both friends and foes. Turning your back on me was indeed an ill choice. There is nothing you can give me that I need any more.’

I bowed my head, again stricken by the lie he so desperately wished to believe. I might have been able to stop loving him if I knew affection had truly died in his heart, but it had not.

‘Now I could send you to Mandos, but instead I shall order my men to leave you where the remnants of the Noldorin rabble may find you, in payment for the freedom you once granted me. You may curse me for this mercy, if your lordling believes you a traitor.’

At his command, I was taken away. Lost in grief and overwhelmed by the pain of my imprisoning hröa, my mind travelled far, to glittering constructs within my imagination well beyond misery on Arda.

Several days later, I vaguely remember being found by a group of scouts. I begged them to kill me, but they believed me addled from thirst and torment, and were wary. There was a man who spoke to me kindly. His hair shone like a halo of gold around his face. I winced, for I recognised him and knew he had been slain many yéni ago while battling against another fell servant of Melkor.

So, I must be dead again. Resigned, I waited for Námo’s Maiar to surround me. All too soon he would be explaining with gusto how wrong and deluded I had been during our previous encounter.

 

Imladris, Year 1699 of the Second Age of Arda

I woke up on a soft bed under a warm quilt. When I moved my feet, I realised the fetters were gone. My hands were free, too. I sighed with relief.

Spirits in the care of Námo and incorporeal Maiar cannot sigh. I opened my eyes, only to be startled by the sight of white-washed walls, still smelling of new plaster, modest but lovingly crafted furniture and a large window through which I could see sunshine and trees. This could not be...

‘No, you are not in Mandos,’ a cheerful voice said, completing my train of thought.

The words were spoken, oddly enough, in the High-elven tongue of Valinor. My head snapped towards the source of the sound and I beheld a man who, in the bright afternoon light, seemed cast in gold.

‘Laurefindil?’ I croaked, even more stunned to find at my side the lord whose deeds of courage in a dying city had been sung in a thousand ballads and lays all across Arda. I was certain I was not mistaken; I had seen him long ago, before he left Aman in Turukáno’s host.

‘None other,’ he chuckled. ‘Though my new name in Endorë, or Ennor, is Glorfindel, and few know yet of my past in Gondolin.’

I was too confused. What trickery was this?

‘You were dead,’ I blurted, while perceiving with wonder the radiance of Aman in his green eyes, and the aura of renewal, still untouched by toil and grief that only someone who had recently returned from Mandos might possess. I had never met one of them before my banishment commenced. ‘You have been rehoused.’

‘Indeed you have sharp eyes... Erestor,’ he retorted gravely. ‘I hope that I will stay this way for many ages. I enjoy having a hröa again.’

‘So where are we? And why are you here? What day is it...?’

‘One question at a time!’ He raised his hands in mock surrender, and laughed.

For some unfathomable reason, hearing the simple sound of joy made me sob.

‘Shall I call Elrond?’ he offered, alarmed.

‘No!’ I answered, perhaps too hastily. ‘Please stay, and tell me what you wish, starting with where we are.’

‘We are in Imladris.’

I gave him a blank look. I thought I was pretty good with maps, but the name brought no recollection.

‘But of course, you do not know what or where this place is,’ he exclaimed, no doubt reading my puzzlement. ‘Elrond retreated North from Sauron’s forces, and this valley became our refuge. That happened immediately after Sauron killed Celebrimbor and launched a wrathful attack, bearing his corpse hanging from a pole, riddled with arrows, as his banner. I arrived at your camp the day after your disappearance, just in time to join that battle.’

My breath hitched painfully. Glorfindel gazed at me with concern, but mercifully refrained from asking questions. ‘Elrond was beside himself, fretting madly about your fate. Now, after more than two years in Sauron’s clutches, we all believed you were dead. I am glad you have somehow proved us all wrong.’

When I ignored his long, enticing silence, he continued.

‘We are under siege, and a large part of the enemy army is marching West, possibly towards Lindon. Even if neither Celebrimbor nor you revealed the secret that Sauron coveted, he must have gauged that he stands a good chance of recovering the rings from Gil-galad. We found you yesterday morning during a scouting mission and brought you back to have your injuries cared for.’

I digested all this astounding news, wondering what to ask about next.

‘You will recover.’ I saw him hesitate, before he lowered his voice. ‘But we both know you will... my lord Eönwë.’

‘I am no lord,’ I retorted, with more sharpness than he deserved. ‘How do you know?’

‘When I learnt of Sauron’s return, I became restless. I begged Manwë to let me sail back to Endórë. Somewhere within me I sensed that my task here was not complete. Olórin, your friend and mine, backed my petition, which was reluctantly granted, but only on the condition that I would prepare thoroughly for many years. When I was deemed ready, my king Arafinwë told me of your doom at the Máhanaxar and asked me to find you.’

Unable to withstand his look of pity I turned my head towards the wall.

‘What does Arafinwë want now?’ I spat. ‘Did he send you to become my gaoler, after my failure plunged us all into war?’

‘No. On the contrary, he bid me become your friend, if you would accept me as such. He warned that you might not be too partial to someone sent in his name.’

I looked at him again, sceptical.

‘My King said that the Valar evaded giving news, except that they had arranged for you to live your exile in one of the elven realms. Rumours brought by one of the eagles spoke of Sauron having repented in truth, and of his later disappearance for many yéni. We knew of his ploy with the Rings in Eregion through messages Círdan sent to Olwë.’

‘Then you must have deduced that I kept my counsel when I should have spoken out,’ I muttered.

‘Olórin told me that you and Mairon were once close friends, and Arafinwë described the restrictions placed upon you at the Ring of Doom. Not until the very end did you have proof of misdoing, though you probably suspected he might be toying with fire when he crafted the One Ring. But it was Celebrimbor’s refusal that hurtled Mairon down the path of evil.’ He shook his head. ‘Do not shoulder guilt that does not belong to you, my lord.’

I gritted my teeth. I was glad to hear his reasoning matched my own perception of Mairon’s actions at the time, but nevertheless I should have known...

‘You blame yourself, and yet you could have hardly done anything differently, not until he revealed himself as Sauron. This is their punishment, is it not, to make you a witness, even a trigger of his fall?’

I looked at him in awe; his insight into my heart was almost disturbing. I nodded.

‘When I arrived at your camp, shortly after they reported you missing, Elrond explained your relationship with Annatar and it all made even more sense. You, most of all, would have failed to see the shadow looming over him.’

‘Tell me, Glorfindel, how do you know I did not stay silent out of malice, or to protect him?’

‘Because Olórin told me to trust you with my life. No doubt he was not allowed to say any more, or he would have.’ He chuckled. ‘I am also sworn to silence about your secret.’

I was touched by Olórin’s faith in me and wondered if he knew the whole truth of what had taken place in Kiinlúum and of my brief audience in Mandos.

‘Elrond must believe me a traitor, with good reasons.’ I sighed. ‘He will be within his rights to have me shipped to Valinor, or locked away.’ A sudden thought sprang into my mind. ‘Am I under guard?’

‘Only mine.’ Glorfindel smiled. ‘You may leave the bed, but you are likely too weak to walk far. I have promised I will not let you run away, my lord.’

‘Erestor, nothing more. Do not forget,’ I chided. ‘No, I will not flee. I must see Elrond. Where is he?’

‘He has been at your side all through the night. This morning I threatened him with force if he did not rest.’

‘Did you now?’ I felt myself smiling. I already liked the man.

‘He is going to have his hands full with the two of us,’ Glorfindel confided in an overly conspiratorial tone. ‘You see, he has grudgingly accepted my oath, too.’ [1]

 

~ o ~

 

When Elrond came, I was ready.

Knowing how apprehensive I felt about this meeting, Glorfindel had thoughtfully procured some clothes for me and helped comb and braid my hair before he finally went to alert our lord of my awakening.

While I waited my gaze lingered on the familiar band of mithril around my left wrist. I wondered why Sauron had allowed me to keep such a valuable gift, the price of several armies. If he had wanted me to bear the sign of his ownership, he could have marked me in many ways. Did he merely wish to gloat about his triumphs, forcing me to witness them even from afar? I gritted my teeth and swallowed tears of rage.

At that time Elrond entered, followed by Glorfindel. I stood up so quickly that I swayed from dizziness, and they rushed to support me. Elrond guided me firmly towards the bed, making me sit. My head was spinning.

‘You should be lying down,’ he said with fond reproach.

‘I should be on my knees to beg for forgiveness,’ I replied.

‘I have not yet compiled the roll of your crimes.’ All the warmth in his tone had been replaced by chilling formality. ‘Too many to keep count.’

Glorfindel gave a bow and made to leave.

‘Stay,’ barked Elrond, ‘or I may be tempted to kill him with my bare hands.’

He held up his hand and began to tap his fingers as he enumerated.

‘Let us see. Dereliction of duty. Desertion, compounded with the abuse of the trust of another officer, who at least had the sense to volunteer a confession.’

My heart skipped a beat for Laergil.

‘He did not...’

‘Silence,’ commanded Elrond. ‘Unlawful requisition from the food stores and from the smithy.’ Glorfindel’s faint smile ebbed under my glare; Elrond’s mockery was anything but amusing. ‘Theft of Lindon’s heraldic livery. Unauthorised perimeter exit without overriding pass phrase. Utter contravention of basic warrior training when walking unarmed and alone into enemy territory. Unauthorised surrender. Suspected impersonation of an official herald. Further lack of survival instinct when baiting Sauron so that he had his main hostage slain within hours of your desertion. Surely not a coincidence.’

‘Replace that last one with kinslaying. Nay, murder,’ I muttered. Both men had the grace to look startled.

‘Murder, then. We will get to the bottom of this. Next one... Oh, yes. Not giving any signs of life for over two fucking years.’ It was my turn to be shocked; I had seldom heard that language from Elrond’s mouth. ‘Surely you also take responsibility for letting yourself be tortured by the enemy, who happens to be your former lover. Is that all, Erestor?’

‘No. I betrayed you and everyone else with my silence when I began to suspect. Maybe if I had... ’

‘Noted. Anything else? Failure to immolate yourself in a heroic death to save Endórë from Sauron’s evil? Or at the very least failure to prevent the fall of Eregion and the atrocities of his army? Do you blame yourself for those, too?’ I ignored his scathing tone; he was hitting too close to the mark, if only in jest.

‘In a way, yes, I do, my lord.’ I buried my face in my hands. ‘He tormented a large number of prisoners in retaliation for my actions.’

‘Because you killed Celebrimbor, to stop him from confessing the truth about the Rings.’

‘Yes, my lord.’ I was glad he had reached the obvious conclusion, saving me from explanations.

‘So maybe, despite all, I should commend you?’ His voice had regained a trace of its former kindness.

When I shook my head, Elrond’s eyes blazed.

‘I see. Perhaps I should instead surrender us both to the justice of the King. After all, I knew with absolute certainty that my second-in-command was plotting to do something foolish, maybe dangerously so, and did not take enough precautions because I underestimated his utter lunacy?’

‘I am sorry, my lord,’ I said, bitterly.

‘For what, exactly, Erestor? For all those heinous crimes we have listed? Or for being a reckless idiot and for wishing to shoulder the guilt for the marring of Arda?’ His outrage was tightly reined, his voice just a notch above his normal level.

‘There is more, my lord. Before Eregion, I...’

At that time, Glorfindel cleared his throat softly, and both Elrond and I glared at him in shared annoyance.

‘I believe you have said enough, Erestor,’ he said. I did not miss the warning in his bright gaze. ‘There is no need to dwell on the past. I have told Elrond that I knew you before you came to Ennor, and that if he trusts me, he must trust you too.’

‘I trusted Erestor even before you arrived,’ retorted Elrond sharply. ‘Despite his secrecy and his strange moods. Do you think I do not realise there is far more to him than meets the eye? For all I know, Manwë himself sent you both as a trial of my patience.’

I gasped and stared at Glorfindel, as though to blame him for speaking too much. He denied my accusation with a weak shake of his head.

‘One day I hope to discover the truth, believe me,’ growled Elrond. ‘In the meantime, the matter of blame and recrimination for the ills of Ennor is closed. We are besieged and have a war to fight. Sauron must be defeated. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ Glorfindel and I answered in perfect unison.

I took Elrond’s hand and pressed my lips to it in renewed fealty. He sat on the bed at my side and wrapped me into his embrace, gently because of my injuries.

‘Welcome back, Erestor.’

 

 

Imladris, Year 1701 of the Second Age of Arda

Chronicles have plotted every battle and skirmish of the war against Sauron in Eriador. Between captivity and recovery, I missed most of them. Only when I managed to win three consecutive bouts against Glorfindel did Elrond allow me to join the fray, which became desperate during the last few weeks. Let it just be said that without the timely arrival of Tar-Minastir’s men under the command of his admiral Ciryatur, Lindon and Imladris would have been overrun and we would all have been slain or enslaved.

During the war, my every heartbeat was bent on defeating Sauron. Not spurred by dreams of retribution alone, but also to atone for my role in unleashing him back onto the people of Endórë—though both Glorfindel and Elrond had helped me regain some perspective—and out of a scorching desire to prove myself worthy of Elrond’s trust. I had been moved by his honest friendship, and my respect for the surviving son of Eärendil had multiplied tenfold after he had forgiven me.

When Sauron was utterly routed at the Gwathló and narrowly escaped the forces of the Númenóreans, I was shaken by the waves of humiliation and fury racking him, which I sensed through the mithril shackle. I allowed myself a brief moment of joyless triumph, relieved that he had been driven back to his stronghold in Mordor. Although I was under no illusions; we might have earned a respite, but he would strike back.

Ever since he had released me, I had been tempted to have the cuff removed and to throw it into a gully, away from sight and touch. And yet I chose not to, despite the revulsion his token of dominance stirred in me, often awakening a rage that, like Ren’s red-hot pincers, both crushed and burnt my heart. But I was loath to cast aside the chance of glimpsing Sauron’s mood from time to time.

Because there was more, a secret that brought me both deep shame and a sliver of hope.

Sometimes on nights of the new moon, I longingly traced the patterns etched on the smooth metal band, yielding to melancholy for the happiness that had slipped like sand from between our fingers. I called Mairon’s name, denying my betrayal, even whispering my most guarded desires, and I prayed to Eru to allow him to find the Light again. I even dared ask him to grant us both another chance at love.

 

 

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Notes:

[1] There is no conclusive date for the arrival of Glorfindel from Valinor. “The Peoples of Middle-earth” (History of Middle-earth, XII) tell us, “This must probably have occurred before the end of the Second Age, and the 'Change of the World' and the Drowning of Númenor, after which no living embodied creature, 'humane' or of lesser kinds, could return from the Blessed Realm which had been 'removed from the Circles of the World'”. More specifically, “But it may have been, perhaps more probably, as late as c.1600, the Year of Dread, when Barad-dur was completed and the One Ring forged, and Celebrimbor at last became aware of the trap into which he had fallen.” I have made this date that of his intention to depart, and his arrival was delayed by a long period of preparation.