The Wedding of Hador and Gildis. 3. by hennethgalad

Chapter 3.

The Best Man, or Elf...

Read Chapter 3.

 

https://www.deviantart.com/victoriaclare/art/Fingolfin-a-moment-of-regret-in-Hithlum-762675279 

 

   I bathed in the spring this morning, it has been long since last I plunged into Eithel Sirion, not the small pool up among the trees, but the lower pool, that we built ourselves, deep enough to dive into, and feel, for a moment, that all was washed away.

   The wine at least was washed away. But I am troubled...

   I have written those words a thousand thousand times. I can scarcely recall a day when it was not so. If it were not for the laughter of my sister... But people are happy, and cannot believe in my fretfulness. 'Of course the shadow grows !' they say, 'but we are here !'
   Our faith in our own strength may be our undoing, for He is cunning beyond our wit to grasp, and His malice will find us out. Ah, I long for the old days, laughing beneath the Trees, when my only concern was to be brave before my brother. Even now I cannot believe that he is gone, fierce, brilliant Fëanor; the living silmaril, as the song says... How he filled my life, though I so rarely saw him. And he is gone, and I must take his place. If only... I have had no preparation for this role. No, not even Helcaraxë. They give me praise, for a worthy feat, worthily accomplished, but my family knows, we know, that only together, only by holding each other up, did we cross that place of death.

   But these are dark thoughts for a bright morning ! And so it has come to pass, my favourite Mortal has married my favourite bard. Even now they... But I prefer not to dwell on such things, for they bring Anairë before my mind, and my heart, and pain me. I wonder if she regrets remaining in Tirion. But I am glad that she did not face the ice. I would not have wished that journey on an orc. I wonder still whether Turgon blames me, and prefers not to look upon me again. Oh I would have given my own life to save Elenwë for him, for my dear boy... But no, he is gone, vanished, and no warning, no farewell for his own father...

   Ah, I should cast myself back into Sirion, I am fretful as a hurt child. The dark hour, when the wine turns to vinegar. Perhaps I should drink a little more, and move on into the festivities of this day. Yes, it is a fine vintage, smooth and mellow. If only I myself could be so ! But no, I rage like my brother, inside, while turning my rigid calm to the world.

   The singing has died away, or perhaps they are within, dancing and drinking. Perhaps I should find some revellers and join them. No, I would drink to excess, and become foolish. More foolish ! Oh Hador thinks we are so wise... We left the Blessed Realm. How could we ever be counted wise ? Thingol was right to shut us out, we are not worthy of Doriath.
I hope Fingon never sees this. He was innocent, though his hands are stained with Teleri blood. How could he have known ? Oh Fëanor Fëanor what have you done...

   These robes, I must remove this heavy... That is better. Oh the fuss ! Oh the running about the halls, with bright cloth, and brighter flowers, and chests and caskets, goblets and flagons, always laughing. Everyone has been caught up in this marriage, Hador has become the adopted child of all Barad Eithel, all but I. To me... But Gildis too, she is their prize, they feel that since she grew under Elven tutelage, she is theirs. They are so proud that Finrod recognises her. Indeed, I am proud of her, and eager to hear the songs she will compose.

   She looked lovely under the silver lanterns, her gown the colour of peaches, her flushed cheeks the colour of peaches ! It was sweet, heartwarming. The necklace I gave her did not match her clothes, but she wore it anyway; there is some Mortal custom which considers blue a lucky colour. It may be that they recall a time when the quest for water drove their thought, and the blue is a symbol of that endless quest. It is certain that they are new to building, and lived long as wanderers, as did our own people, as do many still.
   I shall build them a house, of course, but they must settle to wedlock first, before we think of troubling them. And the mother of Hador lies dying and could not come. I could see him, turning to smile at her, but the place beside his father was empty. Mortals ! What are they ? I wonder if we shall ever know ? I feel that it may be as a problem in figuring, which, once seen, is blindingly obvious.

   The wedding... Hador looked magnificent, for a Mortal. He has a beard now, and the illusion that he was an Elf is past. It was strange, his hair is as golden as his skin, the beard seemed to appear on an instant; and on a day, with the light behind him, he turned his head and the sun shone through the hairs on his chin. He is Mortal...
   But still, how we all love him, his smile warms the whole city, we have joined in his celebrations with a bubbling enthusiasm, and much laughter and song. Indeed, the city is quieter now than it has been for weeks. They are letting him rest...
   The most cheering sight was that fool who insulted Hador openly, when first I knew him, coming to apologize again, and to offer him a gift. It was a flight of arrows, with black feathers, that shimmered in the light, a fine gift which he had fletched himself. He gave a pretty speech, about the arrow being fired back, and Hador rose to his feet to embrace the fellow, Mortal fashion. But there, it warmed our hearts, it was a meet revenge...

   Gifts... Hador will need two houses, one to live in, and one to store his gifts. A harp came from Himring ! Maglor had made it, for Gildis, but still she will say nothing of her speech with him. But the harp ! It is carved from wood so dark it appears black. The carpenters know it, but it is new to me. And set in the frame are gems for stars, and silver for waves, thin curls that only the most skilled hand could have placed so delicately. Truly, the sons of Fëanor are gifted with more than their father’s mood.
   To my embarrassment, Írimë gave them a portrait of me, seated with my hand on my chin, looking puzzled, alas. I thought that they would laugh, and hardened my guts, but they pored over it, their heads together, and looked up at me with shining eyes, as though I had done more than sit still one day for the artist. But Lalwen is unquencheable !

   The wedding. In fact it was very beautiful, at the Ring of Yavanna, which we planted on the Hill of Manwë, with the low stone pillar amidst the flowers. Our people had been hanging lanterns and garlands for days, singing racy tunes, with words they would not sing before me ! Ah well, it is the price of being my father’s son, that I must feign politeness even when I would join in the laughter.
   I was reminded of Mereth Aderthad, a little. It feels like the end of a chapter, the turning of a corner. How different the mood to that frenzy of relief, of joy that we had survived, that we were united (ah well...) that we could dare to dream of victory...
   But now, well, we have survived... We are settled here, with new ways, to match the changes of weather and season. How the wood-elves mock us for our windows of glass, who dwell in the trees and scorn a roof ! But in the snow, I would not trade the fire on my hearth for all three silmarils in my hand !
   I wonder if I could hold them... They say the Enemy, being unworthy, was burned by their touch. The silmarils show no mercy, I suppose, and cannot be pleaded with. What would they... How would they judge me ? Am I guilty ?

   But my thoughts are scattered, more wine !

   Hador is wed. Gildis set the kindling, Hador lit the spark, they leaned close and gently blew together, and the fire was lit, the symbol of the hearth, the home. We cheered then, it was heartwarming to see them smile at each other, for even with that mark of the Mortal, the beard, the beauty of Hador is breathtaking.
   They broke the bread, and opened the wine, and fed each other, then held the gold cup to each other’s lips to drink. They turned to us, held their hands in the air, and we sang the Mortal song, "Joined in Love." It is a strange melody, filled with yearning, or so it seems to me. I think the composer may have regretted their choice, and seen love pass by...
   Hador shared the bread among us witnesses, and Gildis poured the wine, and we drank together, and ate the small pieces of the sweet bread, and then, in the moment of stillness, the two of them kissed. The pillar was behind them, the fire, burning well, shone through between them, lighting them up, but casting me into shadow. I... more wine.

   And so they were married. It was then that Írimë stood forwards, as they looked about, wondering what next, though of course we had rehearsed the ceremonies...
   But Írimë began the first notes, and soon the hill echoed with our joyful singing, and the people of Barad Eithel moved into the spiral dance. All were decked in jewellery, we glittered like a spilled chest, the lantern light sparkled on gold and silver, beryl and sapphire, ruby and pearl. It was beautiful, as they moved in their lines, up and down the hill, passing and repassing, singing the Wedding Song of the Elves, older than the Sun and the Moon, as the Mortals say. As old as Cuiviénen, we would say, I suppose. But they think of time very differently to us, and much more often. It must be like being on an errand, rushing in, doing all you can, and then suddenly, you are gone again...
   Mortals...

   Gildis looked proud and stately, I think Anairë herself would have approved. Ah, Anairë, so very disappointed in me, so very... Where is that wine...

   Hador, though, Hador looked around, smiling radiantly, his great eyes like gemstones under the many lanterns, his arm on the shoulders of his wife. His wife ! He was a boy, a gangling boy, just... and now, tallest in all the land. People talk often of setting him beside Thingol, just to see... Really, we are such fools. How could we have dreamed of defying the Valar ? I did not ! I merely swore to follow my brother’s lead. What a fool I was. To set his whim against the will of Eru, and to choose him, rather than Ilúvatar... I must have been fey myself. I have thought much on this, as have the wise, who flatteringly count me among their number. There is a growing acceptance that it is not "my king, right or wrong", which is the path of tyranny, the path of the Enemy. No, it is merely "right or wrong."

   Wine. So right ! But the wedding, which I suppose I am still celebrating, since I am still drinking... We danced, yes, I too, we danced down the sides of the hill, along the path lined with garlands and every tree hung with lanterns, singing as the crescent moon rose over Ard-galen. The night air was fresh, the wind had picked up, pouring over Ered Wethrin, with the promise of rain to come. I am glad, for the haze thickens, and the flowers wilt in the heat.

   In the great hall we saw them married as we would consider it. Írimë stood forth, and they stood side by side, holding hands tightly like lost children. I stood at the right hand of Hador, and the sister of Gildis stood with her. Írimë spoke the words of doubt, and Hador, his voice deeper than ever, in his flawless Sindarin, spoke the words of affirmation, and love. Gildis accepted him, and took the ring from her sister, and placed it upon the hand of dear Hador. And I, forgetful of myself, caught up in the momentousness, forgot that I had a part to play, and when Hador turned for the ring, I stared at him in surprise.
   More wine !
But his anxious eyes reminded me, and all went smoothly, and Írimë did not laugh at me, which was a relief.

   We feasted them then, and admired the gifts, and Gildis played the dark harp, and we danced. I danced first with Gildis, she is so light, her bones are such that I could break them in my fingers, it seems. Though she is tall, she is insubstantial, somehow, a wisp, a frail fleeting flicker, pale as marsh fire... But her joy was great enough to fill my halls, my city, my realm ! I could not help but smile at her shining eyes, and when she asked for my blessing, I committed another act of folly, and told her of the house that I would build for them. She turned instantly to him, but he was dancing with her mother, laughing, and she did not interrupt. Truly, I had meant to keep my tidings, but no...
   Where is...

   My dear Hador, married. He wore the jewel that Felagund gave to me, the blue-green stone, that I gave to Hador, as I would give him... well, everything. How he has charmed us all ! His spirit burns bright and clear; where Fëanor was a living furnace, Hador is silver lanterns in a tree. And as we danced, I paused to drink, and he stood before me, blythe with smiles. I embraced him then, as Mortals do, caring no more for the watching eyes. But I could feel his thought, waiting for the time when all, even I, were gone, and Gildis awaited. He smiled again into my eyes and thanked me for the gift of the house. And when I asked him where they would choose to live, his face changed, he almost frowned, but I knew that he meant no hurt to me.
   "Dor-lomin, sire. Beyond the mountains of Mithrim."
I was astonished, and pained, that he would choose to live so very far from here. So very far from me. But when my eyes turned to Gildis, he gripped my arm "No, sire, it is I who have chosen this. Gildis is a bard, all places are alike to her, can she but play in peace. But I... We... We would learn from the Elves, of course, but we must... We are Mortals, the very rhythms of our life are so different to your own. And you, well, I shall be gone, truly gone, before much of your time has passed. You must live on, my lord, your people look to you. I... forgive me."
   "Hador Lórindol, it is your candour that I love. When you are content with your new life, I would appoint you to my council, that you may speak your heart, and cut through the wilderness of words among my own people."
   "My lord ! Your council ? I could never... I am a soldier, not a courtier, and assuredly not among the wise... You mock me, sire."
   "Not so, I have told you, candour is your gift, it is all we could ask of you, and it is what we most need. But you need not fear a lack of wisdom on your part, no hard questions will be asked of you ! But you shall be the herald of your people, you who have known our world, and may form a bridge between us."

   Well, that was the last I spoke to him, and after a while, they prepared to leave, and we gathered at the door to the rooms they will share while yet they dwell among us. Írimë had the entrance painted anew for this; the colour matches the gem at his throat, I hope it shall remind him of me.
   This wine is superb, truly delicious. The sun is high, the night has passed, Hador is wed, and I was there.

   He picked her up as easily as a cloak, and held her high on his chest to kiss her. His robe, which clung to his body, damp in the heat, showed all too clearly how very pleased he was with her. She was laughing, and kicking her legs, I could not but laugh myself, until he turned to us with his great blinding smile, his golden hair clinging in shining strands to his forehead. He looked into my eyes for a moment, and I thought of a hound, forepaws stretched, ready for the chase, poised for a moment, high tail still, before tearing away. And like the hound he was gone, in a swirl of golden hair, and Írimë was beside me, with wine, with this wine.

   What now ? The sun is high, the life of the Eldar, as long as the life of the world, lies before me, but there will be no Hador to smile at me, and warm my heart. Dor-lomin ! As far away as they can go without offense to me ! Ah, I am an old fool, like poor Hathol, who admitted to me that he was watching everything closely, to speak of this to his wife, that she might see it as we did. I shall speak to the artists; I would paint the scene for him myself, but alas, I have no such gift.
   Mortals. Why must they die ? I suppose that if they did not, we would all be Elves together. Ah, I am reminded of Finarfin, plaintively exclaiming "But why can we not all be friends together ?" Alas alas for my brothers...

   This is excellent wine, though perhaps I ought to eat a little. This feather weighs heavy in my hand, the Sun is hot at my back, I should eat, and take some rest. But surely there is some thought, some hopeful word that I have not yet found...

   Wait ! I have it ! Mortals ! They live swiftly, but there will be children, and the House of Hador will live on ! It may be that I shall see him again, in a smile, or in that golden hair, or even his eyes, round and blue, shining like the morning, looking at me from the face of a stranger.

   It is I who am the stranger, for it seems that I do not know myself. I look around this familiar room, where I have spent centuries waving the feather at the world, dreaming of an end to the quarrels and the war.

   It is so quiet; the feather scrapes, I feel that I could hear the ink flow, did I but listen... But the wine flows, filling my emptiness, until...

   Surely that is his voice, on the stair, laughing with the guard. When I think of him, I remember only laughter, his large eyes vanishing into the curves of his cheeks as he roared, and set me laughing again. More than anything I shall miss his laughter. But that is his step, he is running up the stairs ! I cannot...
   He is standing in the doorway, he forgot to knock again, the guard will be shaking his head, but smiling. Hador looks like a cat in a thunderstorm, alert and sparking. He is looking at my hand as I write this, perhaps he wonders if I have forgotten him so soon. As if I could ever...

   So, my hound has returned, unsure of his welcome.

   But I am celebrated for my hospitality, and I have wine.