Under the Birch Leaves by My blue rose

Under the Birch Leaves

Read Under the Birch Leaves

"Does the Elf king know you are here?" Haleth asked, rather pointedly.

Caranthir bristled. "Thingol is no king of mine. I come and go as I please and need not his leave."

They sat a bow shot away from the River Taeglin under the open canopy of birch leaves in which a tree pipit chirped. The woodlands were a colorful tapestry this time of year. Cerulean bluebells and flaxen primroses, hidden purple violets and the snowy blossoms of wood sorrel and anemone. The two of them were concealed from the several dozen Haladin warriors that guarded the Crossings behind a large flowering bilberry bush. His horse and packhorse stood nearby, unsaddled, grazing on the sweet grasses.

"That is why you are here alone and unheralded?" she rejoined dryly.

"I am in need of no entourage whenever I wander," he declared, glancing meaningfully at Haleth's bodyguard of spear wielding women standing not four paces away. He had no fear of them listening in for, like most of the Haladin, their Sindarin was poor. 

"Indeed? Then you have not deigned to visit us unescorted for the first time because the king has forbidden you to bring your warriors into these lands?" She challenged, hazel eyes undaunted. Unlike her people, Haleth had never been intimidated by him nor cowed by his customary harshness and candor. 

Caranthir hesitated. Better she think him afraid of the king of Doriath's ire than know the true reason he was here by himself. After his last visit to the forest of Brethil, he had become angered when he had overheard his own people disdaining Haleth. Unlovely and stunted as a Dwarf, they had called her. True, she stood only breast-high, short as all her kin. And her features were quite unlike the Eldar; her face lined by hardship and privation with acorn brown hair interspersed with strands of grey.

She was no great beauty but then, neither was he, the least fair of all his brothers.

Haleth laughed, a harsh sound like the cried of a rook. "Have no fear! I will not tell the king’s wardens you are here again. They misdoubt you enough as it is."

"And you do not?" he challenged.

She had been suspicious of him ever since he had first visited the Haladin when they briefly dwelt in Talath Dirnen after departing his lands. Haleth had believed he sought to force her people to return and be placed under his vassalage. In truth, Caranthir had wanted her back in Thargelion, preferably near his own dwelling by lake Helevorn. Yet what he wanted even more was to get to know this strange Mortal whom he found more like unto himself than any person he had ever met. 

"Do I trust the Elf lord who keeps returning to bestow great gifts upon us with no thought of recompense?" she replied with her usual wryness, gesturing at the leather bag he had given her containing knives, spear points and ax heads.

He shrugged. "My people do not account such mundanities as valuable as you seem to. And it benefits all to have our allies well-armed."

When they first met, she had told him in broken, accented Sindarin, that what she desired for herself and her kin was peace and freedom. He could not give her or anyone else such intangible things. Yet he well knew that the Haladin lacked knowledge of metalworking, crafting their tools from stone like the Laegrim. So he brought her gifts of steel and iron, knowing she would prefer this to a dwarf's horde of gold and gems. She was as practical as he and would have scorned any finery offered.

"Even so, you heap obligation upon us that we cannot repay." Haleth's tone was mild but Caranthir could discern in her thoughts unease and bitterness that belied it.

"If it burns your heart to be so indebted, perhaps we might come to an arrangement," he offered.

There was a flash of fear in the woman’s mind and he frowned; conversations with Haleth never seemed to go as he intended.

"I wish to learn your speech," he hastened to explain. "I know the tongue of those Men that dwell in Dorthonion but yours seems completely unrelated."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Whatever for? I already know the Elven tongue."

Caranthir felt a surge of anger at Finrod who was to blame for Haleth's fluency in Sindarin.

"My father was greatly interested in the study of tongues and dynamics of speech. I would continue his work, if you are willing." This was not quite a lie. He had merely never before had any interest in tongues beyond the needs of communication.

"I am willing enough, though it seems to me an unfair bargain on your part," she said.

"I shall have to visit you more often and stay longer," he said, smiling at the notion. 

"I shall have my folk pitch you a tent, my lord," she replied solemnly, eyes bright with amusement.

Caranthir laughed. "Then we have an accord, my Lady."