The Unforgettable Fire by Ithilwen

The Unforgettable Fire

Prologue – The Maiden

Somewhere east of the Ered Luin...

The wise-woman sighed when she heard the faint tapping on the door of her hut. She had been hoping for a quiet evening to herself, but as was not uncommon, one of her people apparently needed her help. A woman in labor, perhaps, or a child with the coughing sickness. Quickly gathering her things together, she prepared to go out into the night.

She was briefly dismayed when she opened the door and saw the young girl standing there, clasping her woolen shawl across her body with shivering hands. “Well, don’t just stand there – come on in, girl” she said, and quickly closed the door behind them as the girl stepped inside the small hut.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, truly I am,” the girl stammered, “but I need your help. I –”

“How long has it been?” the wise woman asked, cutting the girl off in mid sentence. The girl, startled, simply stared at her; she sighed again and repeated her question. “How long has it been?”

“I don’t understand,” the girl whispered, and the wise woman shook her head in faint exasperation.

“Since your last flow, child. How long?” When no answer was forthcoming, she added, more gently, “That is why you came to me, is it not?”

The girl nodded miserably, then looking down at the floor, replied softly, “Two moons.”

“Well, it’s not too late to end it, then,” the wise woman replied, “ if that’s what you wish. Are you sure you don’t want to marry him?”

“He said he wouldn’t have me,” the girl replied, remembering her lover’s scornful laugh when she had gone to him with the news of her pregnancy. His stinging reply still echoed in her mind. Did you really think I would marry someone as ugly as you are? Oh, you were good enough to sport with, but I’ll have a comely wench for a wife. Her face burned in shame. How stupid she had been, to think he loved her!

“What he says counts for little, now that he’s gotten you with child. Haleth, you’re from a good family, and everyone has seen the way young Sagroth has favored you. If you go to your father with this news, he can force Sagroth to take you to wife, if that is what you wish.”

Haleth paused briefly, imagining marriage to her lover. Sagroth had been so attentive and kind, and so fervent in his proclamations of his love for her, that in the end she had permitted his advances, although she felt no pleasure herself in their coupling – but now she knew the truth. She tried to picture herself lying beneath him as he thrust himself inside her, knowing that he only took her because he could, and to slake his own needs, not because he truly desired her. She imagined herself cooking and cleaning for him, bearing his children, pleasuring him – and all the while knowing that her husband did not love her, and had married her only because he was forced to. She shuddered in sudden disgust.

“No,” she replied, very firmly. “I don’t want him.”

The wise-woman saw the determined expression that passed over the young girl’s face, and smiled inwardly. She’s more sensible than most girls her age – no foolish sentimentality here. Perhaps she’ll make a wise-woman herself one day, once she’s grown. “A good decision, in my opinion. If he doesn’t want you now, he certainly won’t want you later, for marriage cools most men’s hearts rather than heating them. And frankly, Haleth, you deserve better.” She began to rummage around her collection of flasks until she found the one she was looking for. “Here it is,” she said in satisfaction; turning to Haleth, she pressed a small vial into the girl’s hand.

“Drink one sip of this every morning until it’s gone. If you haven’t started to bleed by the end of the week, come back to me, and I will give you something stronger. Don’t be surprised by the cramping – it’s normal. And don’t worry, Haleth – no one will ever know.”

As Haleth walked back to her homestead in the frosty evening air, she turned the vial over and over in her hand, watching the oily liquid slosh back and forth. No one will ever know, the wise-woman had said, but Haleth realized the truth – any man who would lie with her now would know she was no maiden, and no respectable man would want such a one, another man’s leavings. She would bring such shame to her family if she were to wed, once her husband learned she was not a virgin! Not that many had wanted her anyway, with her plain looks and unfeminine ways. I will never marry now, she thought sadly, and soon this potion will end the life of the only child I will ever conceive. And knowing that, she wept softly.

When her tears finally slowed, she looked up at the sky, the bright stars and the pale Hunter’s moon that hung high overhead. I have always been strong, she thought. I will be strong enough to bear this. For the sake of my parents and brother, and for the sake of my own honor, I will find a way to live without love.

Chapter 1 – The Elf-Lord

Everything is finally in readiness. The great Hall has been decorated, the food for tonight’s feast is being prepared. The last of my brothers finally arrived at Lake Helevorn yesterday. All that remains is to ready myself for the ceremony ahead.

I have never been over-talkative; unlike most of my kind, I have always preferred action to discussion, and many apart from my close kin (I am told) regard me as reserved, even harsh. I am grateful for that reputation now. It simplifies things. No one will expect me to display my deepest feelings openly, which is fortunate, since those feelings are not what they would expect on such an occasion.

For this is one of the saddest days of my life.

* * * * * * *

It is said by the Powers that the marring of Arda, though tragic, will ultimately serve to bring forth beauties that otherwise would never have arisen; even in his spite, Morgoth ultimately serves the will of Ilúvatar. I am not a philosopher. I cannot judge whether there is truth in those words. I only know that I never would have met you if it had not been for the existence of orcs.

I had, of course, seen your people before. When news of the arrival of the Younger Children in Beleriand reached my ears, I made the journey from my home at Lake Helevorn to that northern portion of my younger brothers’ lands our people now know as Estolad. There, I was told, my foolish cousin Finrod had lead these newcomers, that they might avoid conflict with the Laiquendi of Ossiriand, in whose lands they had been discovered trespassing.

I was not impressed by what I saw. The Aftercomers seemed in all ways so inferior to my own kind! They were, I thought, nearly as homely as the Naugrim. Nor did they possess the stone-dwellers’ sturdiness; indeed, the Secondborn were as ephemeral as the morning dew, scarcely noticed before it is gone. At first, I could not believe it possible – how could any intelligent being die of weariness in the span of a mere 100 Years of the Sun! And they were so weak! So many died of minor injuries, or of strange failures of their ill-constructed hröar which they called “sickness”, long before the time when their odd world-weariness would normally set in. No, I thought, these Secondborn are too far beneath us; there is nothing to gain by any association with their kind. I returned quickly to Lake Helevorn, laughing at my cousin’s silly infatuation with these frail newcomers.

No, I was not impressed by my first sight of the Edain. But though I thought then that they were of little consequence, I did not regard them as being any particular threat – indeed, what could such fragile beings do that could possibly discomfit the might of the Noldor? And so when small groups of the Aftercomers began to settle in the sparsely populated southern woods of my realm of Thargelion, my people and I paid them no mind. Although they seemed of little worth, they were causing no particular harm, and so we let them be. Then the orcs came.

Morgoth long ago learned the folly of directly assaulting our northern realms; the Sons of Fëanor stand firm in our determination to destroy him, and his craven forces have no chance in the face of our fury. On this occasion, he instead sent his hordes far north and east to escape detection; then heading south, the orcs crossed the Ered Luin on the Dwarf-road to enter Beleriand. There, in the southernmost portion of my lands, they began to assault the small settlements the Aftercomers had built in the woods.

When word of this assault reached me, I immediately assembled a sizable force and hurried south. I cared not so much for the fate of the Aftercomers, those uninvited squatters on my lands, but for the safety of my own people living just north of those woods, and for my twin brothers’ realms farther south. The orcs, I knew, would not content themselves merely with slaughtering the mortals living in the woodlands, but would soon move on to wreak harm upon the nearby Noldor. And I would allow no forces of my family’s hated Enemy to touch foot on my soil. We rode south in haste, determined to destroy the invaders utterly.

When my troops arrived, the orcs had decimated the forests of southern Thargelion. The foolish Aftercomers did not groups together in defensible villages or towns; instead each family built its own small homestead, standing independent of the others, and these the orcs had quickly overrun. The survivors of those previous massacres had gathered at the junction of the river Ascar and the great river Gelion, behind a hastily constructed stockade stretching from river to river. Orcs are persistent when they sense vulnerability – they had continued to patiently test the stockade, knowing that eventually the defenders would weaken from hunger and they would finally be able to pierce this flimsy barrier. They were in the process of doing so, having hewn a great hole in the wooden wall, when I arrived with my soldiers. The orcs had not expected an attack on their rear; surprised, they were easily scattered, and my troops happily slaughtered them, driving them into the rivers to drown. None would return to Angband, and Morgoth would again be reminded of his limits. Pleased at this victory, I proudly rode past the stockade to meet the leader of the mortal defenders; although not my subjects (for they had never sworn fealty), and therefore technically not my concern, I am not willfully cruel. These people had lost their homes, and many had lost their kin; I would offer some assistance to help them recover.

My eyes widened when I saw the number of orcs lying slain just inside the walls of the stockade, and the relatively small number of men who had so desperately stood their ground against that foul horde. Most of those who had huddled behind the barricade for safety, I quickly realized, were defenseless women and children – only a small handful of men, desperately brave, were responsible for the slaughter I beheld. What fighters they were! Belatedly, I realized I had underestimated these people. My own forces, were they to find themselves in a similar situation, could not have done better. These Aftercomers might be frail, but they were no cowards. Perhaps my cousin Finrod’s interest in them was not as foolish as I had thought. The Noldor could use such valiant allies. “I am Caranthir son of Fëanor, ruler of Thargelion,” I announced. “The orcs have been destroyed, and your people are now safe. I regret that my forces were unable to arrive sooner, and that your people were forced to endure such hardships; I would lend you what aid I can now, that you might rebuild your lives. Where is your leader? I have much to discuss with him.”

At my words, a short figure stepped forth from the ranks of the men, clad in poorly fitting leather armor covered in blood and wearing an over-large helm. A boy, I thought, perhaps the son of their leader? Surely he is too young to govern these folk himself? But then the figure removed the helm, and a mass of curls tumbled out, shoulder-length hair the color of ripe wheat, and the voice that answered my query was lyrical, if firm. “If you wish to address the leader of these people, Lord Caranthir, then it is to me that you must speak, for I guide them now. I am Haleth, daughter of Haldad.” Not a boy, I marveled, but a woman.

The women of my people are nearly as strong and tall as the men (until their strength flows, as it is meant to, into the bodies of the children they nourish within themselves); not so the women of the Aftercomers, who are generally shorter and more slightly built than their thick-set, muscular mates. You were no exception to that rule. A mere reed surrounded by a forest of sturdy trunks you seemed, and yet you stood before me in stained warrior’s garb, calm and confident, with an aura of strength and command; and the men’s deference to you was apparent in their expressions. Haleth, daughter of Haldad, was obviously no ordinary mortal woman. Such a one, I thought, is worthy of respect, and so I dismounted that we might speak as equals, rather than remain on my horse and address you as a lord does his vassal.

I had had little experience judging the ages of mortals, but as I came closer, it became clear to me that you were no young girl; streaks of silver were beginning to frost your hair, and your skin had lost the smoothness of youth. And your face was plain, even by the lower standards of your own people. But your eyes were a wonder - full of fire, they seemed, and colored quite unlike the sea-grey eyes of my people, a rich deep brown never seen among the Eldar. I was unsure of what to make of the expression I saw there - confidence, certainly, but also a certain reserve. Could it be that this mortal was also judging me? I wondered uneasily, for I was not used to such scrutiny.

“My lady Haleth,” I said courteously. “I know little of your people’s customs, but is it not unusual for one of your sex to lead in times of war? Forgive me,” I continued hastily as I saw the anger flash in your eyes at the sound of my question, “I did not mean to give offense, or to question your leadership. I only meant to assuage my curiosity, that I might understand your ways better.”

“My people have no use for kings or princes, Lord Caranthir,” you replied, meeting my eyes with a steady gaze gone grown cool. “Their choice of whom to follow is a free one. My father Haldad and my twin brother Haldar were valiant and much loved; it was my father who organized these folk against the orcs. But they were both slain, and the people turned to me. I lead because my people wish me to – they believe that I am now the one most capable of guiding and protecting them, and I will not fail their trust.”

I saw you standing there, strong and proud and determined, and for a brief moment I was reminded of strangely of my mother Nerdanel; for it seemed to me that you possessed a similar resolute spirit, abet naturally one of lesser intensity. “No,” I said, “I am certain you will not.”

* * * * * * *

The provisions in the stockade had nearly run out, and my men and I spent several hours hunting to provide food for the starving mortals. That evening I invited you to share my fire, as befitted a fellow ruler, and so that we might talk. “You told me that your father and brother were both killed by orcs in battle,” I mentioned. “I also know what it is like to lose kin at the hands of Morgoth’s foul creations, for my own father was slain so, and I grieve for your misfortune. Since they died in the defense of land under my protection, it is only right that I should give you recompense for their loss.”

“No such recompense is necessary,” you answered. “They did not fight to defend this land; they fought only in defense of the people living on it. My people, Lord Caranthir, not the Elves. Since they did not die for your sake, you owe me nothing.”

“Perhaps they fought solely to defend their own; nonetheless they did me service, even if unwittingly,” I responded. “Therefore, I will do what I can to compensate you for their deaths, and thus ease your people’s plight.”

“For my people’s sake, then I will accept it,” you replied. “As for my own loss – no amount of material goods would ever be enough to fill the hole in my heart their deaths have produced.”

“I would not expect it to. My youngest brothers are twins; I can scarcely remember a moment when they were apart. I think that if one of them should ever die, the other would shortly follow, simply out of grief. And yet you have managed to endure the loss of your own twin brother. You are far stronger than you appear at first sight, my lady Haleth.”

Your eyes flashed in the flickering light of the flames. “I have but seldom met your kind, my lord, but my father had more converse with your people; and I learned much from him. I know your people see us as weak, evanescent creatures, scarcely worth your notice. You undying ones look down upon us lowly mortals from your great height, and smile, and think us children. But we are not children, my lord, and we are not so frail and ignorant as you believe. For all of your supposed wisdom, it is you who are the foolish ones, to judge us so.”

Those words stung, and now it was my eyes which were lit with fire. “ You fancy yourself a seerer, then, my lady Haleth,” I spat, “to peer into the depths of my heart and weigh what you might find there – you, who by your own admission know little of my people and even less of me. You claim my kind is arrogant, yet what is it but arrogance to judge so harshly one whom you have just met, a judgment based solely on preconceptions and a few hours’ acquaintance? Who are you, that you dare to judge me?”

“Who do I need to be?” you replied evenly as you rose up onto your feet. “The hour is growing late, Lord Caranthir, and I will have much to do in the morning. I regret I must take leave of your company now.” And without a further word, you turned and quietly left my fire, leaving me to sit alone in the darkness.

* * * * * * *

I spent the remainder of that night sitting by the fire, staring into the flames. At first, their heat matched the burning in my breast, for I was furious. How dare that impudent female speak to me so! I, Caranthir, am the son of Fëanor, who was the greatest of all the children of Ilúvatar; I was a prince in Aman long before her father’s father’s father was even conceived! Just who does that no-account mortal bitch think she is? But as the night wore on, my anger slowly cooled, and I began to recognize an unpleasant truth – you were right. Indeed, your words would have had no power to wound me were it not for the truth within them. Had I not ignored your people prior to the orc raid, precisely because I had deemed them too insignificant to trouble with? With growing shame, I remembered the way I had ridden into the stockade earlier that day, carrying myself on my horse as though I were gracing such lowly beings with my presence. In my mind, I heard for the first time the subtle patronizing tone in my voice when I had invited you to dine with me – how magnanimous of me to permit a mere mortal woman to share my company, that tone had implied! She was right to treat me so, I realized, for have I not always held scorn in my heart for her people, the Younger Children? The Valar, after all, had not treated my people with such condescension, though they stood much further above us than my people did above the Aftercomers, after all – for were we not both, Firstborn and Aftercomers alike, mere incarnates, bound alike to our flesh? Had Oromë treated Finwë so, when he first discovered my people at Cuiviénen, how would my proud grandsire have reacted? When the first rays of the sun began to spread across the eastern sky, I rose and left my fire, now little more than softly glowing embers, and set out to find you.

Mortals, I knew, require more rest than my people, and I was not sure that you would be awake. But I found you already working, organizing groups to hunt for food and supplies, and drawing up search parties to scour the woods for any possible survivors of the raids who might have scattered deeper into the forest rather than joining together with the others to build the stockade. When you saw me, you frowned slightly. “Lord Caranthir,” you spoke stiffly, “I regret that you have come at an inconvenient moment; I am sorely needed here, and can spare little time for pleasantries. And I am sure that you also must have much to do to ready your men for the long journey back to your homes. Please accept my regards; I hope your journey north will be a safe and pleasant one.” And with those words, you turned your back to me and resumed speaking with your people.

I was not deterred. “My lady Haleth,” I replied, “what I came to say will not take much of your time.” Reluctantly, you turned again to face me, and I continued steadily, “My people will be remaining for some days more; I thought we might be of some assistance to you in your efforts to rebuild what has been lost. But that is not why I have come to speak to you now.” I paused briefly, to swallow my pride, then said, “I came looking for you, my lady, because I wish to apologize to you for my treatment of you yesterday. You were quite right in your judgement of me – I was a fool, and by my conduct earned your scorn. Please forgive me for my arrogance towards you – you did not deserve it.”

As a prince, I have had little practice in apologizing; as I stumbled over the words, I winced inwardly at my awkwardness. She will never believe I am sincere, I thought; strangely, I found that thought upsetting. I did not know why your acceptance of my ill-delivered apology was so important to me, but it was. But to my surprise, you appeared to soften slightly at my words, and I saw a faint smile brighten your homely face. “You were arrogant indeed, my lord – but I believe that your arrogance has met its match in my own. For you were correct in one particular – I do not know your heart, and yet I presumed to read its depths. I will accept your apology only if you will in turn accept my own.”

“Agreed,” I said, grinning. “Let us resolve now to begin anew. You said to me that you have had little direct experience with my people; I will now confess I have had but little more with yours, and I have not your excuse of years. Would the lady Haleth permit me to join her at her fire tonight?”

“I would be honored at your presence,” you replied gently.

I nodded slightly, and said, “I look forward to joining you tonight, my lady. Now I will leave you to your work, and I have tasks of my own which I must attend to.” And with that, I left to rejoin my men, my heart strangely light.

* * * * * * *

My men and I remained in southern Thargelion for nearly two months. The orcs had been thorough in their destruction; little remained to be salvaged from the ruined and burned homesteads. What few items of value could be recovered were quickly distributed among the survivors, whose numbers increased slowly over the weeks as more people drifted in from the woods to join your encampment by the river. My soldiers were kept busy building temporary shelters, hunting for food, and bringing in supplies from the lands just north of these woods, where I wielded my rightful authority as the ruler of these lands by imposing a tithe. We kept a sharp watch, but there were no more signs of orcs. Nonetheless, your people seemed restless and uneasy; I could only guess the source of their anxiety, for I did not speak their tongue, and few among your people besides you were fluent in mine. But I needed no interpreter to understand the dark looks in the eyes of many of your men when I walked with you through the encampment; their disapproval required no translation.

Your position as the leader of your people required us to spend much time in each other’s company; and each day we spent together I was more surprised by you. Your form was so deceptive. Next to the burly men of your people you seemed at first glance frail – but within your small frame I sensed there was a core of iron. Nothing seemed to daunt you, and by the firmness of your will you held your frightened and divided people together. And the steadiness of your voice and manner, and the high heart and courage that shone in your strange brown mortal eyes, served to give them hope. At times I could almost imagine that you were one of my own people, a Fëanorian in spirit if not in bodily form.

One evening, a few days before my troops and I planned to return to Lake Helevorn, our conversation turned towards the future. Spring had nearly arrived; soon it would be time for planting, and you spoke of the need for your people to begin to rebuild their lives, far away from the devastation and the evil memories that filled the woods of southern Thargelion. “The nearby mountains cast a darkness in my people’s hearts,” you spoke quietly, “and they will never again be content in their shadows. I fear, my lord, that I will soon need to lead them far away from this place, that we may begin anew. We must move quickly, if we are to gather enough in the coming months of plenty to carry us through the winter.”

“Then move your people north,” I suggested eagerly. “There are rich and fertile lands in the northern portion of my realm which remain unsettled. I will grant them to your people, that they might live there freely and in safety – for there they would also have the friendship and protection of the Eldar.”

“Your offer is generous, Lord Caranthir, and it pains me to refuse it – but refuse it I must. My people are woodsmen, and would pine on the open plains of your lands. And,” and at this point, you hesitated for an instant and met my gaze, and the expression I saw there was mingled regret and steely determination, “my people have our pride; we will not consent to be ruled by another not of our kin, however mighty and valiant he may be. We cannot go north with you.”

I felt strangely numb as I listened to your words. “Where will you go?” I whispered. “There is little unsettled land remaining in Beleriand that your people might claim, and none that is not under the dominion of the Eldar in one form or another. Surely you will not return east over the mountains?”

“No, of course not! We will go west, to join our kin in Estolad,” you replied, laughing. “The land there is like unto the woods here, or so I have heard – it should suit my folk well.”

“Yes, I have been there before – the land is peaceful and well-protected, and although not so heavily wooded as here, there are many trees. And it will be an easy and rapid journey – if you depart now, there will still be ample time to plant whatever crops your people require, when you arrive.” Estolad,I thought to myself as I babbled. That is not so very far away. And I have reason to go there, after all – I occasionally visit my brothers Celegorm and Curufin, who live not far north, or go hunting in the woods to the south with the twins. Perhaps I will see Haleth again at some point in the future. “Estolad will suit your people well, Haleth,” I concluded. “I am sure of it.”

The following morning you began to organize your folk for the long march ahead, as I prepared my soldiers for our return north back to our homes. On the slow return journey to Lake Helevorn, I was surprised to find my mind remembering in dreams, not the beauty of the Trees in Aman, or the Silmarils, or Lake Helevorn on a frosty night under the bright moon, but hair that rippled like grainfields in autumn, and eyes the color of freshly plowed earth.

Chapter 2 – Pas de Deux

To my amazement, my thoughts continued to turn towards you throughout that long spring and summer. At times, the visions I beheld in my mind were nearly tangible, and I could scarcely believe that you were many leagues away in distant Estolad and not before me, so real my dreams of you felt. During the nights, my mind was filled with images of you, standing before your men in warrior’s garb, your eyes filled with fire; in the mornings, my body ached for your touch. Never had I been so unsettled by a woman! And you were not even of my kindred – no, you were of the younger Children, a fleeting creature compared to enduring Eldar. Nor were you beautiful. What strange hold did you have on my fëa, that you tormented me so?

I kept remembering that feeling of strength and power I’d sensed inside you, so unlike anything I’d known in any other woman I had met. There were strong women among my people, too – among them my cousins Artanis and Aredhel – but their strength was different somehow, colder and rigid and silent. The strength of stone, hard and unyielding. Your strength was the strength of a supple blade at the completion of its tempering, the metal still glowing cherry-red with the furnace heat. The strength of fire and hot metal, a strength that called out to my Fëanorian heart.

I tried to distract myself with sport and martial exercises, and with the company of women of my own kind, of which I lacked for little; as a grandson of Finwë and the son of the greatest of the Noldor, I was deemed by many a most desirable match. But all my efforts were to no avail. Both the hunt and the arts of war only increased my desire, stirring the very memories I was trying so hard to repress. And after the experience of your company, I found the lovely Elven women of Thargelion even more insipid than before, too quiet and demure and proper to bear. By late autumn, I could bear the torment no longer. Using the pretext of hunting in my younger brothers’ rich gamelands, I rode forth from Thargelion west towards the northern borders of Amrod’s and Amras’s realm, and Estolad.

You proved an elusive quarry. Your people had again reverted to their old ways, living in scattered homesteads, and it took many days of searching before I finally located the small settlement of Haleth, daughter of Haldad. My heart leapt when I at last beheld you, only to sink into despair as you turned to greet me – for in your arms you held an infant.

No! I cried inwardly; aloud, I merely said, “Greetings, my lady. I have been hunting in my brother’s woodlands to the south, and thought I would check to see how your people are faring here in Estolad. I hope my visit is not an inconvenience to you.”

“Not at all, my lord,” you laughed. “Quite the contrary – I would appreciate your company. Would you like to join me in the garden? We could share news while we sit in comfort in the sun.”

“That would please me a great deal, my lady,” I replied as I dismounted. As we walked together towards the garden, I looked again at the child resting in your arms; mortals, I had heard, had a shorter pregnancy than my own people, but even so, it seemed to me that this child must have been conceived before my arrival the previous winter. Why did you not tell me you had a mortal lover? I thought in anguish. I have spent months longing for you, and trying desperately to convince myself that you might feel something for me - and now I find that all my hopes were vain, and you have bound yourself to another. I remembered the way I had admired you then, ignorant of your heart-bond to another man, and bitterly derided myself for my foolishness. “Congratulations,” I said quietly when I realized you had noticed the direction of my gaze. “After so much sorrow, a new life must be doubly precious – both a sign of hope, and a reminder that life continues despite everything our Enemy inflicts upon us.”

“My poor brother’s wife certainly thinks so,” you replied. My puzzlement must have been obvious, for you suddenly began to laugh. “You thought… Oh, Caranthir, this is my nephew, not my son!”

And suddenly I found myself laughing too, in relief, and we continued to walk together, side by side, into the small garden you had constructed behind your house.

* * * * * * *

Your household was small - only you, your brother’s widow Meleth and her infant son, and your cousin Forhend and his wife Hiril; now your only living adult male relative, Forhend apparently fancied himself your protector, despite the fact that you so obviously needed none. Although your homestead was located in the safety of peaceful Estolad, you said that your people would regard it as unseemly for you to live without a male guardian, however unnecessary he might be, and so you had no choice but to put up with his presence. The tension between the two of you was unspoken but obvious. It was perhaps fortunate that I did not yet comprehend much of your tongue; I suspect that his blood would have reddened my sword in under a fortnight had I understood the words he addressed to you. As it was, the disapproval in his voice often set my teeth on edge. For all his haughtiness, however, it was obvious who wielded the true power among your people, for when they had a problem to be addressed or a judgment that needed to be rendered it was to you they turned, and not to him. His presence was needed merely for show, to satisfy propriety - and he obviously knew and resented it. Forhend’s wife was no better; from her manner, it was plain that Hiril felt her husband should have been the one in authority in your family, and not you. To Utumno’s deepest pits with propriety - you should have tossed them both out to starve in the woods! I would have - but you were always more charitable than I.

Meleth was young and shy; I doubt she spoke more than a dozen words in all the times I saw her during that hunting season. You said she knew some Sindarin, but she was apparently too frightened or in awe of me to attempt conversation, and so we remained strangers to each other. But from what little I could see, she seemed very fond of you, and you appeared to enjoy her company and that of your very young nephew. I was glad that at least one of your companions brought you happiness.

That autumn, for the first time in my life, I found myself at a complete loss. Always before I had been the pursued - because of my family’s social standing, I had never found it difficult to meet women. Indeed, I had become adept at disentangling myself from unwanted attentions. Now that the situation was reversed and I was the one who desired a closer acquaintance, I had no idea of how to begin. What should I say? I couldn’t even be sure that you would wish friendship with me, much less anything more intimate - outwardly you showed no signs of any particular interest or affection, though you were always pleasant. And when I contemplated revealing my feelings towards you, I remembered that first night we met, and the way you so completely destroyed my presumption with a few well-chosen words. You certainly had no need for male companionship, for you were no meek and simpering thing, too delicate to manage life on your own; certainly you could have wed ere now, had you wished to do so. Who was I to press my suit? Merely an Elf, as opposed to the Men who’d doubtless fruitlessly tried to win your hand - and you’d made it clear that you held my people in no special regard. I, Caranthir son of Fëanor, who’d faced the might of Angband in battle, I who have always been the frankest and most outspoken of my family, found myself completely unnerved by a mere mortal woman. And so I said nothing. I returned to your homestead for a day or two every week, using the excuse of supplying your family with game for the upcoming winter, and gazed upon you with naked longing when your attention was turned elsewhere, and silently derided myself for a fool. And when the winter snows began to fall in earnest, and I was forced to depart for Thargelion, I rode home in despair, and beseeched the Valar to rip this ridiculous infatuation with you from my heart.

I remember that winter as very long, and very miserable.

* * * * * * *

The following spring I again journeyed west, this time travelling on the pretext of visiting my brothers Celegorm and Curufin, who guarded the Pass of Aglon. After spending several weeks in the constant company of my favorite brothers, I was finally able at last to ride forth alone, and once more headed south into Estolad. I felt so torn! My fëa was still tormented by thoughts of you, yet I doubted that I would be able to find the words that had evaded me the previous fall. And a part of me resented you for torturing me so, even though you did so unknowingly. Why did this have to happen to me? Why couldn’t I have fallen under the spell of a woman of my own people, as was natural? I was certain things would have been easier then, for surely I would have seen the answering desire in an elf-maid’s eyes, and that would have given me the courage to loosen my tongue which I lacked when facing your inscrutable mortal gaze. Or so I believed. I was foolish enough then to believe that love should be a simple thing.

You were not much changed. Your nephew, young Haldan, was crawling now, and you seemed to dote on him almost as much as his mother did. Occasionally when I watched you playing with your small nephew, I saw the faintest hint of sorrow darken your eyes. At first, I thought it was sorrow for your brother, who had not lived to see his child born. But when I saw longing in your eyes while you watched him nurse at Meleth’s breast, I slowly realized your grief had a different source; to my surprise, it lay in your own empty arms. For the first time, I began to question why you had never wed. I had assumed it was because you were so complete in yourself; what could any husband bring you that you did not already possess within your own heart? Surely if you had wished for a husband, you would have married before now, for any man would have desired you for your strong and fiery spirit. When I finally learned the answer to my unasked question, I was astounded.

One morning, when I arrived at your homestead from my nearby camp (for I had once again used the excuse of hunting to explain my presence in Estolad, and therefore had to go to the trouble of setting up a hunting camp), I found that you had ridden forth at dawn, escorted by your odious cousin Forhend, to attend a Folkmoot. Disappointed, I prepared to leave, but Meleth, whose Sindarin had steadily improved as her nervousness around me slowly lessened, assured me that you would be returning home in time for the noon meal. I decided to wait in the garden until your return. As I watched your young nephew playing there on the soft grass, I remarked to Meleth that her son was a fine boy, and must be a source of great comfort to her in her grief. Yes, she replied, he was indeed a treasure, and she hoped to bring forth many more children; her new husband would certainly wish a son of his own, and she would like at least one daughter.

“You are married again?” I asked, surprised, for (save in my grandfather’s case) my people give their hearts in marriage only once. “I would not have thought it possible for you to meet and fall in love with another so hard upon the death of your husband Haldar.”

“I do not love the man I will be marrying,” Meleth confessed, to my astonishment. “I gave my heart to Haldar, and he holds it still. But Avranc is kind, and well-respected among our people, and my son will need a father. And I wish for more children, and do not want to be dependent on the charity of others, as unwed women are. So I will soon marry again.”

“But Haleth is not dependent on charity, and she is unwed,” I replied.

“Only because she has inherited her father Haldad’s goods; had my husband lived, she would be living in my household under his care, rather than caring for me,” Meleth replied. “And such independence as she has is dearly bought, for she will have no children; even if a man could be found who would be willing to marry her now, she is past the age of bearing. No child of her own will comfort her in her dotage; what good will her independence do her then? I have heard she had few suitors in her youth, for she is very plain, and far too outspoken for a woman. And when the young man she desired did not want her and chose another, more comely maiden, she would not accept the suit of any of the older men who were willing to settle for her, claiming she did not love any of them. As if that mattered! I do love Haleth, and it pains me to speak ill of her, but she was foolish. But Haldad doted on her, and would not force her to marry against her will, even though it would have been for her own good. And so she is alone now, and barren. She should have wed,” Meleth said emphatically.

I was astonished. Were the men of your people truly so blind, that they could look into your eyes and think you ugly? How could they see only your flesh, and not the spirit that burned within it? And to force a woman to marry a man she did not care for - such a thing was unheard of among my people! Although most of my kind do indeed wed, it is always by mutual consent, and those few among us, both male and female alike, who do not take a mate are not reduced to begging the charity of their kin - they are as respected as any of the Eldar. I had known that the ways of the Aftercomers were doubtless different from those of my own people, but I had not until now realized just how alien they truly were, or how cruel.

“No doubt she would have married, had there been a man in your tribe worthy of her, who saw her as something other than mere breeding stock,” I replied icily. “I am glad for Haleth’s sake she never wed - better to be barren and retain her pride than to lower herself to marrying such men as you have described. ‘Settle for her’ indeed - it is she who would have been doing the settling, as you have apparently chosen to do in forsaking love for material gain.”

Meleth flushed and looked discomfited, turning away from me; but after a brief moment she again turned and met my angry gaze. “Perhaps I am settling, my lord, but it is the way of things among my people. I do not have Haleth’s pride - but pride will not feed an empty belly, nor fill it with child. I choose as I must, and you have no cause to rebuke me for my decision.”

“You are right, Meleth,” I conceded as my anger on your behalf began to fade. “I should not have spoken so harshly. You must choose as seems best to you. May you come to find happiness in your choice of husband.” Although how that will be possible, I cannot imagine, I thought silently. To break the sudden tension that had risen between us, I began to admire the features of the garden, and Meleth and I chatted casually about flowers and herbs until your arrival. Later that day, shortly before I left to return to my hunting camp, I noticed her looking at me with a pensive expression on her face.

* * * * * * *

It was nearly two weeks before I returned to your homestead. The conversation I had had with Meleth kept echoing in my mind; I was sickened when I thought of you being forced by your father to lie with a man you detested, or being reduced to dependence on your brother for survival, an unwanted burden on his household. You had escaped those fates by only the slimmest of chances; now that both your father and your brother were dead, there was no one left who could chain you against your will, a fact for which I was grateful. You should have been born an Elda, I kept thinking. How can you bear living with such animals? I did not then understand the reasons for your people’s strange ways - nor at that time did I care to, sensing only how badly you must have been hurt by them.

When I finally felt I had regained enough self-control to return, I brought with me a deer that I had shot that morning, intending it as a gift. But to my surprise, your eyes became cold when they spotted the carcass draped across the haunches of my mount, and you said you wished a word with me in private. I assented, and followed you, puzzled, as you led me a short distance away from your homestead. Once we were safely out of earshot of the others, you turned to face me, and I was taken aback by the anger I saw in your eyes.

“Lord Caranthir, I wish you to stop bringing such gifts,” you stated firmly. “I do not want them. In fact, I think it best that you cease your visits altogether. You have outworn your welcome in my household.”

“What have I done to make you so angry?” I replied, stunned by this unexpected speech. “Have I offended you in some way? I thought – ”

“I know what you thought,” you replied, hissing in fury. “You thought you could buy my affections with your presents, and then use me as you please to slake your desires; after all, I’m no one you need to respect, just an ugly mortal woman, not a lordly Elf, so what’s the harm in it? But I won’t permit it, do you understand? No one uses me!”

I was literally too shocked to speak. After a long moment, I finally gathered my wits enough to weakly protest, “How could you think such a thing of me? When have I ever treated you disrespectfully?”

“Oh, you’ve been most proper, my lord,” you replied in a mocking voice, “and until now I’d believed we were friends. But however blinded I may have been, you did not manage to fool all of my people. And now that the veil has been torn from my eyes, you can no longer fool me. I am ashamed when I think about how easily I let myself be manipulated by you – as if one of your oh-so-proud kind would ever stoop so low as to befriend such a one as me, a lowly mortal! My people may not be so lordly as yours, but we also have our pride – and I’ll see my household starve before I’ll cheapen myself so.”

“Who told you such nonsense?” I demanded, feeling a searing rage building up inside me. Whoever it is will die for this, I swear it, I thought in my fury. Suddenly I remembered the odd expression on Meleth’s face, the strange way she’d looked at me following our short conversation during my last visit. “Was it your brother’s foolish wife?”

“Meleth said she saw desire in your eyes, and that was why you came so frequently to my household. The rest was obvious, once I accepted the truth of her observation. Do you deny it?” you challenged, your wrathful expression daring me to deny the truth of your accusations.

I met your angry stare with one of my own, and when our eyes locked, I saw you flinch ever so slightly at the heat you saw in mine. But you did not waver, standing firm, defiant. “No, I replied hotly, “I do not deny that I desire you. I am in love with you, Haleth. I had hoped that perhaps you could come to love me in turn, although I now see that I was mistaken in my belief.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” you scoffed. “You are an Elf-lord, perfect and flawless and enduring, and yet you claim you are in love with a mortal, an ugly mortal with greying hair and blotchy skin, who will wither away and die in the space of a heartbeat. You live surrounded by beautiful, immortal women, and you would choose me for your love? Did you truly expect me to believe that?”

“Yes,” I replied, more softly now, “because it is true. I am in love with you. Do you truly feel so unworthy of my love, Haleth?”

“Liar,” you spat, but now I saw the pain in your eyes. “You are no different from any other man; you prate on about love, but you view women as playthings, to be used and then discarded when a more appealing one becomes available. You see me still unwed though I am fast becoming a hag, and think I must be desperate enough to give in to your attentions, that I might warm your bed while you hunt here in the greenwood; and then when winter comes you will return to your keep in Thargelion and your perfect, pretty Elf-maidens, and toss me aside to pine for you while you sport with them. But I will not be your plaything, Lord Caranthir.”

“No, indeed you will not be,” I replied. “You will be my wife, for however many years as are given to us to share. Perhaps the men of your people behave so, Haleth, but not mine, for my people bind our hearts when we share our bodies; such dalliances as you portray are not possible for us. And we do not make our choices lightly. Perhaps all you see in yourself is what you described, but I see a spirit that shines so brightly it all but blinds me, a fire to warm my heart. Please Haleth, listen to me! I love you. Don’t throw my love away because you are afraid to be hurt again. I am not that young man who spurned you so long ago.”

You hesitated, seemingly searching for words, and I saw the uncertainty in your gaze. Carefully, I reached out to stroke your hair, and at my touch you began to weep soundlessly, tears slowly trickling down your cheeks. “Haleth, oh my love,” I murmured softly, and with that you let me draw you into my arms, and I held you tightly while you cried.

When your tears finally slowed, you tried to pull away, seemingly ashamed, but I refused to release you until you at last met my eyes. “I’m sorry, my lord,” you whispered; at the sound of those words, I smiled ruefully and shook my head. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, love. And my name is Caranthir.” I went to kiss you cheek, but before I could do so, a great shout arose from your homestead. I heard a voice scream “Haleth!”, followed by a series of incomprehensible words. The voice I recognized – it was your cousin’s wife.

At the sound of those words, you pulled away from me again, and this time, startled, I let you go. “It’s your horse,” you laughed, “he’s gotten into the vegetable garden and is eating the greens! Come on – we’ve got to catch him.” You began to head back to the homestead, pulling on my arm to get me to follow.

“Damn that woman!” I shouted in frustration. “Why doesn’t she simply catch him herself and lead him out?”

“Hiril’s afraid of horses,” you replied, and I thought I saw an evil twinkle in your eyes.

“Afraid of horses? I’ve never heard of anything so silly in my life!” I grumbled as we began to jog back towards the homestead. Before we turned the corner that would bring us within sight of the house, I caught your hand again and forced you to stop. “Haleth, I will wait for you beside the oak tree near the storage shed, after sunset. Please, my love, come to me.” To my words you gave no reply, and I could not decipher the fleeting expression I saw in your eyes before you turned away again. Sighing, I followed you out into the yard, and the two of us proceeded towards the small garden where my stallion was contentedly grazing on the lettuce, the carcass of the deer still slung across his back, oblivious to the hateful curses your cousin’s wife continued to fling at him.

That night I waited by the oak until the first rays of dawn brightened the eastern sky, but you never came.

* * * * * * *

Each day at dusk I stood under the oak tree, waiting for you, and each morning I left at dawn, disappointed. Once I again rode up to your homestead during the day, but Meleth met me in your place, claiming that you were feeling unwell and not up to company; she was not a skillful liar, for her blushing and stammering gave her away. I took pity on her, though, and departed after giving her the two hares I had caught that morning. After almost a week of waiting I was beginning to despair, but I could not yet bring myself to give up and return alone to Thargelion. I decided that I would continue to hope for two more nights; if you did not come to me by then, I would accept your choice and depart.

Again I stood under the oak tree – by now, I thought sourly, I knew every leaf and twig and crevice in its bark all too intimately, I might be a woods-loving Avari for all the time I’d spent gawking at the thing. The stars were long out, and the waning moon had just begun to rise over the horizon when I finally heard a soft footstep. Instantly my mind snapped out of the idle dream I’d been enjoying to focus on the source of the sound, and I saw you stepping slowly across the dew-covered grass, barefoot, clasping a shawl across your shoulders, eyes casting about as if searching for something. Of course she can’t see me, I’m hidden in the shadows, I realized suddenly; quietly, I stepped out from underneath the spreading branches and into the moonlight, and called out softly, “Haleth!”

At the sound of my voice you froze, and for an instant I thought you might turn and bolt back to the security of your house. Before you could move, I rushed to your side, and then to my surprise you flung your arms around me and clung to me as if you were afraid I’d vanish into the night. “Haleth,” I whispered softly into you ear as I returned your fierce embrace with one of my own, “I was afraid that you were never going to come.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered back. “I couldn’t make up my mind. I want you so badly, but I’m so afraid…”

“Hush,” I replied softly. “There’s no reason to be frightened. I won’t ever abandon you, and I’ll never harm you, Haleth, I promise you that. Let me take you to a place where we can be alone.”

“I must be back here before dawn,” you insisted; I did not then understand the reason for the fear I saw in your eyes.

“I promise you will be, my love,” I murmured, and then led you past the oak tree to where my horse stood patiently waiting. I lifted you up onto his back, then mounted in front of you. “Put your arms around my waist, and hold on tight,” I commanded, and then we were off, riding through the moonlit woods towards a small, secluded glen I had discovered during one of my hunts.

The glen was surrounded by a thick mat of shrubbery, leafy and private. A rushing stream with a series of rapids, not quite large enough to call a waterfall, flowed through it. Overhead, the tree branches gave way to the sky. Ulmo’s music and Varda’s stars, I thought, and all around us Yavanna’s gifts; there could be no more perfect place for us to join together in love. I left my stallion at the edge of the clearing where he could graze contentedly on the sweet grass, and taking your hand led you deeper into the grove.

You looked radiant in the moonlight, and the heat in your eyes kindled an answering fire deep inside me. I pulled you to my chest and bending my head slightly, placed my lips onto yours. We stayed locked together for what seemed an eternity, lips pressing and nuzzling, tongues flicking in exploration, my hands running down your back and over your smooth rounded buttocks to press you more closely against me, yours running over my back and shoulders and up into my hair, pulling my head down more firmly against you. When we at last parted, I gasped; quickly, I recited in Quenya the words of the Blessing, calling on the One to witness and look with favor on this union between His Children.

“What did you say?” you asked; as you continued to run your hands over my body, I felt a gathering tightness building in my loins.

“My people ask for Ilúvatar’s blessing before we come together in love for the first time,” I replied. A shadow crossed your eyes as you said, “So do mine – usually.” But before I could ask you the cause of your pain, your lips met mine again, and I was again transported into bliss.

When we at last parted, the spark in your eyes had grown into a flame, and both of us were trembling and breathing hard. Silently, I reached for the clasps of your dress, and began to unfasten them; when the garments at last fell away and you stepped forth in your nakedness I shivered with desire. Quickly I drew off my own clothing, and the two of us stood frozen for a moment, admiring each other. Then I grasped my cloak and spread it across the dewy grass, and beckoned you into my arms again.

This time, with no clothes to encumber us, we could fondle each other wherever we desired; as we lay together on the cloak you nuzzled my neck and ear while your hand slowly stroked my now-rigid length. I slowly caressed your breasts and buttocks, then began to stroke you between your thighs, pleasuring you with my fingers until I felt you tense and shiver in release before I entered you.

As my member began to penetrate you, I realized in dismay that you were not untouched. What did that callous young man do to you, so long ago? I wondered for an instant, vowing that if he still breathed I would make him pay for the hurt he had inflicted on you. Then I lost myself in the ecstasy of loving you.

Nothing I had ever felt in my life had prepared me for the sensations I was now experiencing. I felt as though the very core of my being was enveloped by your flesh, my fëa merging with your bright flame into one blinding blaze, a single perfect creation, a spark of the Divine fire. We rolled so that you were on top of me, and as I looked up at your face contorted in pleasure, framed by your shimmering hair against the background of the stars, my last coherent thought was, Haleth Elentári. You are my Starkindler. And then I cried out as a great rush of unbearable sensation pushed all conscious thought aside, washed away on an irresistible tide of pleasure.

Afterwards, as we lay together under the stars, limbs intertwined, the cool night breeze caressing our naked skin, I reached inside myself to see if I could feel it. Closing my eyes, I concentrated, feeling for it – yes, it was there. The bond. I could not be sure it would be, for none of my people had ever joined with a mortal before. I opened my eyes again, this time to look into yours, and this time I saw it there, reflected in the darkness of your mortal eyes. “Haleth,” I whispered softly, “do you feel it?”

“Feel what?” you asked.

“The link between our fëar,” I replied, “The bond between husband and wife.”

You closed your eyes for a moment; when you opened them again, they were filled with wonder.

“I told you I would never abandon you, my love; a part of me will always be with you now, and you with me, even when our bodies are apart.” I saw the tears begin to pool in your eyes again, and held you close, caressing you, while you quietly wept in joy.

We slept in each other’s arms that night, wrapped together in my cloak to keep the evening chill from you, breathing in the sweetness of each other’s breath, relaxing in the pleasure of each other’s touch. Before the first light of dawn began to break across the sky, I woke you and, as I had promised, returned you to your homestead, promising that I would again meet you under the oak tree that evening.

Chapter 3 - The Way of All Flesh

For the rest of that season, I met you faithfully under the tree after dark. Some nights we rode to the grove and made love under the stars; other nights we simply sat and talked. It seemed your mortal flame had lit a devouring fire within my own flesh; my people live our lives by a slower rhythm, and a night or two of lovemaking in a season would be accounted passionate, but I could have joined with you every night without tiring of the pleasure. Even in Aman I could not remember a time when I had been so content. But such contentment is not meant to last in Arda Marred, I now know, and slowly the clouds began to cast their shadows over our happiness.

Our problems began when I asked you why you were so insistent on meeting me only after dark, and always returning before dawn. I was now your husband, I said in confusion, were you ashamed of your marriage to me? Your reply both bewildered and angered me.

“No, of course I’m not ashamed of it,” you had replied softly, lying in my arms after our lovemaking. “But my people will not approve of this relationship I have with you. You did not ask my cousin Forhend for permission to wed me, or pay a bride-price. They will not see you as my husband, but merely as my lover – and decent women are not supposed to take lovers.”

“Who are they to cast such judgment on your actions, or to decide whether or not you are married? You are a grown woman, capable of making your own decisions, not some child!” I replied hotly.

“Hush, Caranthir,” you soothed me. “I know you do not understand, or approve – I’m not sure I do either, but that is the way things are, and we cannot change them. My people see things differently than yours do – they believe what they will, and all your arguments will not convince them to change their minds. They will not approve of our union. And if you had asked my cousin for my hand, he would have denied it to you – for you are not one of my kind, but an Elf.”

“And he doesn’t approve of Elves ravishing mortal women, even if they are lords?” I said, my voice deliberately light, but my heart filled with rage against Forhend.

“Especially Elf-Lords, love. And it’s not just Forhend; most of my people would agree with him on this.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, and now there was no disguising the anger in my voice.

“During our wanderings, my people were taught much by the ones you call Dark-Elves; we saw how much more they knew than we did, and the contempt that many of them held for my kind, and were ashamed. And your people are greater still, Caranthir. Many of my people feel insignificant when they compare themselves to your kind. And they resent it. My people wish to be independent, love – they will not accept the direct leadership of any Elf, ever. Alliances, yes, but not actual leadership. And if they were to see you with me, they would assume that I, a woman, would be deferring to you in matters of leadership. It would cost me my position as leader of my people, love – and in all likelihood it would be Forhend who would take my place.”

“And why would that be so terrible?” I replied. “You would be free, then - free come with me to Thargelion and live with me as my wife.” I felt your body stiffen in my arms, and now your voice was the angry one.

“Would you not think it terrible to be exiled from your kin, from everyone you’ve ever known and loved, never to see them again? Do you think it such a small thing to give up everything that has made up your life and go off to live with strangers, most of whom will not approve of you, and some of whom are openly contemptuous of your kind? I do not hear you offering to give up your leadership over your people to stay with me, Caranthir.”

“You have already said it would do no good in any case, as your people would not accept me as your husband,” I equivocated. “And in any case, I have sworn an oath of vengeance before Ilúvatar Himself, which I dare not break.”

“And were things otherwise, would it matter? If you had not sworn that oath, and if you could live with me openly as my husband here in Estolad, would you give up your position as Lord of Thargelion to be with me?”

I said nothing, for in truth I did not know how to reply. I had never considered the question before. I was born a prince of my people, and none of my family has ever refused the duties their inheritance demanded. Indeed, I did not know whether such an abdication would be acknowledged even if I were to attempt it. Can one unilaterally cease to be a prince? Can a king step down if his people demand that he rule? Besides, it is only natural for a woman to leave her home to live with her husband, it is the way things are meant to be.

“Your silence is an answer itself, my lord. You would be unwilling to give up your lordship; why should I be any different? The welfare of my people is just as important to me as the welfare of the Noldor is to you. I take my position as my people’s leader seriously, just as you do,” you said firmly.

I leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I know you do, dear heart. I’ve known that from the first moment I saw you, standing there among the warriors holding a sword covered in orc blood,” I replied tenderly. “I only wish that we could be together openly, instead of hiding our love from others’ eyes.”

You sighed, and reached up to run your hand through my unbraided hair, and when I looked into your eyes they were sorrowful. “I wish it also, love, but it’s simply not possible - and it never will be. We just have to accept that, and find what satisfaction we can in these secret meetings, and in the union of our spirits.”

My response was another kiss, more passionate this time, and a movement of my hand between your thighs to touch your hidden places. You may accept it, I thought as I began again to pleasure you, but I do not. Watching you cry out in joy as your body suddenly shuddered in release, I said to myself, Haleth, you are now my wife, and you should be at my side. Someday I will find a way to take you to Thargelion with me, where you belong, and we will at last be happy together.

* * * * * * *

All too soon late fall arrived, and it was time for me to return to my duties in Thargelion. We both knew there was no alternative, but that did not make our parting any easier in the end. You walled yourself off in an armoring silence, unwilling to give voice to your pain, while I tried to sublimate my own through the intensity of my lovemaking on our final night together. When the dreaded dawn finally came, we parted in silence, broken only by my promise to return to Estolad as early in the spring as I could manage. As I rode sorrowfully home to Lake Helevorn, I found myself repeatedly reaching for the slender bond I could feel deep inside me as proof that I had not lost you forever.

That winter was hard; I fretted and brooded, desperately anticipating the arrival of spring and my return to your arms, and my normally quick temper was stretched to the breaking point. This had the fortunate consequence that people began to avoid me; fortunate because for the first time I began to see that it was not only your people’s intolerance we would have to deal with in our marriage - it was also that of my own kind.

A trading party of Naugrim had arrived at Lake Helevorn late in the season, only to be trapped there when the winter snows fell unusually early and the mountain pass they had traveled from Belegost was blocked before they could return to their homes. Consequently, they were forced to spend the winter with my people, waiting for the thaw that would allow them to depart safely.

No one was overtly rude to them; the Naugrim were our allies, and I would not have permitted open disrespect. But whispers of derision were voiced when they were not present to overhear; their different manners, their ugliness, and their supposed inferiority as a mortal race were all regarded as cause for mockery by some of my subjects. For the first time, I wondered how my own people would treat you were I to bring you home with me. Your body was no longer young, and even the most beautiful of your kind were scarcely regarded as fair by those of my race. And compared to your short-lived people, the Naugrim, though also mortal, were longeval indeed. Would you be the object of my subjects’ scorn as well? Would my people see you merely as an ugly, frail mortal, unworthy of marriage to their lord? Would they even recognize our marriage bond as valid? I had never thought about such things before I joined with you - my desire for you had been so strong that I had not considered the full implications of our union, so desperate had I been to lie with you, and bond with you, and make you my own. But how was our happiness to be achieved if we could not be together as husband and wife, as we were meant to be? I could not leave Thargelion permanently; but I was unsure of what your reception would be if I finally brought you home. Could it be possible that you had been right, and that our secret trysts in the forests of Estolad were all we could ever aspire to? It seemed so unfair - we would have so little time together as it was before your death forever separated us! I begrudged every instant we were forced to spend apart, and yet I could see no solution to our dilemma.

And then there was the matter of our bond. It gave me great comfort during those long months apart, that delicate touch of your fëa on mine, but it was also perilous. For the marital bond between two Quendi can be sensed, not only by the spouses in question, but by others as well. A woman of my kind who was seeking a husband would be able to tell that I was bound to another, should I speak overlong to her or let her study my eyes. And because of my position, I would not be able to keep the identity of my mate a secret - truly private lives are a luxury not afforded to nobles. I was not ashamed of our union - far from it! But as I did not know whether my people would accept it, or you, and since you were mortal and our time together would of necessity be short, I thought it best that our union should remain a secret until such time as I could solve our dilemma. And that meant avoiding unmarried women, and as a supposedly eligible lord, that was not an easy thing to do. By the time late spring had arrived, and I was at last able to ride out to Estolad, I had managed to insult nearly every nobleman with a marriageable daughter in northern Thargelion through my persistent refusals to meet their lovely offspring. If things continue as they are, I thought sourly as I rode east to my much-anticipated reunion with you, I will not have to worry about my subjects’ reactions to our union, for I will be deposed by popular acclaim!

But to my delight, these cares melted away like frost on a spring morning during the time we spent in each other’s company that year. I found you little changed - perhaps there was a touch more grey in your hair, but the fire in your eyes burned as brightly as it had when I first met you, and you were even more passionate and sensual then you had been the year before. When we rested together, sated and sleepy after spending ourselves completely with our lovemaking, lying naked in each other’s arms under the silvery light of Varda’s stars, I thought, This is what it must have been like to awaken at Cuiviénen - to lie together in innocence in a world yet unmarred by evil. All too quickly the summer passed, a progression of warm nights of passion which slowly morphed into sharp frosts that only served to heat our bodies further against the chill to come. And then the end of autumn arrived, and once more I was forced to depart for Lake Helevorn, there to endure another winter of misery without you in my arms.

* * * * * * *

And so the pattern continued for another three years. Spring through fall I spent with you in Estolad, and winter I spent raging against the cruel circumstances that prevented us from remaining united forever - for I was becoming increasingly convinced that you were indeed right, and there was no way out of our dilemma. As I saw the years begin to take their inexorable toll on your mortal flesh, I became ever more desperate not to waste what little time we had, and increasingly resentful of the duties and obligations and prejudices that conspired to keep us apart. More and more often, I found myself begging you to return with me to Thargelion, so we could be together always - I would find a way around my subjects’ bigotry, and force them to accept you. But as always, you refused to even consider leaving your people, and the more persistent I became in my appeals, the angrier you grew in response. Inevitably, though, the hurt in my eyes softened your mood, and the sorrow I saw reflected in yours quelled my pleas, and the arguments always ended with us frantically coupling, as if our lust could drive away the sorrow in our hearts. Ironically, it would not have hurt so much had we not truly loved one another. I had always thought of love as a balm to soothe the heart; until then, I had not realized its terrible power to wound.

I had known from the first that our time together would be short, and both grieved over the knowledge and dreaded the day that would inevitably arrive to separate us. I had thought the end would come as a result of sickness or world-weariness, bringing the terrible fate Ilúvatar has given to your people (for I refused to think of it as a gift - how could something which would separate us so completely ever be accounted a blessing?). But that end arrived far sooner than either of us had expected, and was far more terrible than either of us had imagined even in our bleakest moments.

I will never forget that night - it was a beautiful spring evening, with just a touch of chill in the air, and a gloriously bright moon hung overhead. I had arrived in Estolad only two weeks earlier, and our long winter separation had as usual left us desperately craving each other’s companionship. Our lovemaking that night was long and leisurely; so intoxicated by your presence was I that I paid little heed to our surroundings, for there were no dangerous creatures in these woods (or so I then believed). As we joined together I attributed the faint, brief rustling I heard to the movements of deer, and in my eagerness to love you I promptly put it out of my mind. I did not know then that this was to be the last time I would ever lie with you.

You did not meet me in our usual place beneath the oak tree the following evening. Although unusual, this was not overly concerning, for there had been times before when your responsibilities to your people had interfered with our trysts. But then another evening passed, and another, and when you still did not come I began to grow concerned. Over the years I had continued the pretense of hunting as an explanation for my presence in Estolad, occasionally riding to your homestead during the day with a gift of game, pretending to be exchanging greetings and pleasantries with you as befitted one lord visiting the lands of another. When over a week had passed with no word from you, I decided to ride to your homestead again, ostensibly as a courtesy and to share my quarry with your family but in reality to check on you, for by now I was seriously worried.

When I arrived, I was relieved to see that you appeared healthy; your expression was bright and cheerful, but there was a tension in your eyes I had not seen before. We sat in the garden with Forhend and his wife, and the four of us conversed about trivialities (or rather attempted to converse, for neither Forhend nor Hiril spoke good Sindarin), and at the end of the day I left, simultaneously relieved that you were apparently well and frustrated that I had not managed a single private word with you during the entire course of the afternoon, and was no closer to understanding what was wrong.

Nearly a month passed before we met again. I had not given up my nightly vigil under the oak tree, but was beginning to despair of ever meeting you in private again; it was perhaps three hours before dawn, that quietest time of the night, when I spotted you quietly moving across the grass. When you reached me, I threw my arms around you and began to kiss you frantically; your lips met mine eagerly for a moment, but then you firmly pushed me away. Confused, I stepped back, and my heart sank when I saw the sorrow in your eyes. “Caranthir, we need to talk,” you said quietly.

“Must we, love? I know it’s growing late, but we still have time enough if we leave now, and I’ve missed you so much...” I said desperately; from the look of pain on your face, I sensed I did not want to hear what you had to say. I reached out with my hand to stroke your cheek, but you pulled away.

“Caranthir, they know about us,” you whispered. “Hiril followed us to the glen; she watched us making love. Fortunately for me, she is a fool; had she said nothing, returning instead on another night with impartial witnesses, I would have been disgraced and my cousin Forhend would now be leading our people. But instead she has openly accused me, in front of our people, of taking you for my lover. Her testimony by itself is not credible, for everyone knows her ambitions for her husband, and most of my people view her accusation with disbelief, if only because they cannot possibly imagine an Elf-lord such as you desiring me. Most are skeptical, but not all. I wasn’t able to come to you before now because I feared I was being watched. I shouldn’t have risked coming tonight, but I care about you too much to leave you without at least an explanation.”

“Leave me... But we are bonded, Haleth, you are my wife! We belong together; surely you will not allow this nonsense to separate us,” I protested weakly, too numb with shock to feel the pain of her words yet. “You said yourself that people don’t believe Hiril; all we need do is wait a while longer, and it will again be safe for us to meet.” But even as I said the words, I saw you shaking your head sadly.

“I’m sorry, Caranthir, but I can’t risk it. It’s too dangerous.” And now I saw the tears begin to well up in your dark eyes as you whispered, “Ever since I was a young girl I’ve known that the one thing I could not have was a man’s love. But when I met you a part of me refused to accept that truth, and now we are both paying the price of my foolishness. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You really mean it,” I whispered in astonishment. “You are willing to walk away from me, your husband who loves you, and never see me again, and for what? Just so you can continue to lead this foolish tribe of people who treat women as if they’re property, or misbehaving children to be disciplined? Let your cousin lead them, since he desires the position so badly, and come away with me to Thargelion! Haleth, you belong at my side! Does the power and authority you wield over your people really mean more to you than my love?”

“Forhend distrusts your people; if he assumes the leadership of my tribe, he will lead them back over the mountains, back into the dark lands we struggled so hard to leave. I can’t, I won’t, allow that to happen - even if it means losing you. I do love you, Caranthir - but I love my people more. I’m sorry, but that is the truth. And besides, I am not an Elf-woman; you always knew that you would lose me eventually.” You tried to smile, but the sadness in your eyes belied the lightness of your expression as you uttered those last words.

“Yes, to death,” I whispered, “but I never thought I would lose you like this. Please, don’t abandon me, Haleth! I can’t bear it! Please come back with me to Thargelion, I beg you!” The numbness was beginning to wear off, and silent tears had began to flow down my cheeks.

You had also begun to cry, but shook your head at my pleas. “Goodbye, Caranthir,” you finally whispered. “I will never forget you.” A sudden kiss on my cheek, and then you were turning from me and running towards your small house.

“Haleth!” I cried out desperately, but you never looked back.

* * * * * * *

I do not clearly remember the rest of that night; I recall only riding heedlessly through the dark forest, raging ceaselessly at you, at the Valar, at Ilúvatar Himself for so cruelly separating us. When I finally collapsed in exhaustion, long after sunrise, my rage finally gave way to tears, and I wept as though my heart would burst.

The next few weeks were a blur. I spent them riding aimlessly through the great forests of my twin brothers’ lands, knowing in my mind that I would never see you again, never hold you in my arms again, but unwilling to accept in my heart that you were lost to me now. I was very young when my parents separated, but I remember vividly my father’s black moods shortly after my mother had left our household to rejoin her kin; his rages had frightened me then, but I understood them now. Father, is this what you felt when Nerdanel left you? I wondered. How did you stand this agony? How can anyone bear so much pain and continue to live? I felt I finally understood why he had turned his love so completely to his crafts; in the end, the Silmarils were the only things he knew were safe to love, the only things he knew would never abandon him, for they were not alive.

Eventually I found myself headed in the direction of Thargelion; although I do not remember choosing to ride home, I must have realized on some level that I could not mourn this way forever, endlessly drifting through the greenwood. That summer, I alternated between numb despair and towering black rages so intense they frightened even me. I did not need to concern myself with avoiding the company of others, for they quickly learned to stay away. The bond between us persisted, of course, for it is broken only by death; its presence was a cruel reminder of my loss, mocking me with the empty promise of your love, the futile hope that one day I would ride out to Estolad and things would be as they were before, and you would again fill my empty arms.

By autumn I could stand the torture no longer, and in desperation I returned to Estolad, determined that this time I would make you see reason; if necessary, I would throw you across my horse and carry you to Thargelion willing or no. Surely the bond between us was causing you as much torment as it did me! I was hoping desperately that you would relent when you saw me again, that you would finally agree to resign your leadership and accept your place by my side, where you belonged. For all your fire and resolve, you were a woman, after all - and a woman needs her husband. I tried very hard not to think of Father during my journey.

I was not expecting what I found when I reached Estolad. Your people were gone. It took me several days to accept the truth of my observations, days I spent roaming the woods in search of you, returning each evening in desperate denial to your small homestead. The house and the outbuildings still stood, but the buildings were empty, and the garden was thickly overgrown with weeds. Finally, it became clear even to me that you were not coming back. You had lead your people away, and I did not know where to find you - as you no doubt had planned.

I did not look back when I finally rode away from your small house. I never returned to Estolad.

I never saw you again.

* * * * * * *

Eventually I learned that you had settled your people in the forest of Brethil, after leading them through Nan Dungortheb. Only you, my love, would have thought that dark road less dangerous then returning to the east across the Ered Luin! You had managed to cut yourself off quite effectively from me, far more so than I expect you realized, for Brethil was one area where I could not journey even had my brother Maedhros permitted me to venture so far west. No son of Fëanor would have been welcome in any portion of Thingol’s realm. I would never trouble you again.

Over the long years, I slowly became resigned to our separation. The bond between us persisted; eventually this ceased to be a source of pain, and instead became a gentle reminder that once I had loved a woman made of fire, a plain woman with earth-brown eyes and hair the color of wheat. I wondered occasionally what you made of that lingering, delicate tie between us - did you come to treasure it, or would you have broken it if you could? Sometimes I tried to imagine how your appearance must have changed during the course of the years, but I was never successful; in my mind I always pictured you either as you were on the day I first saw you, standing resolute before me with sword in hand, or on that night when we first made love, your face hovering above me as we coupled, framed by the stars.

Then one morning just before dawn, a little more than five years ago, I suddenly awoke from dreams, jerked to full awareness by an abrupt, sharp ache deep inside me. Our bond was broken, and I knew that you were gone. Your mortal fëa had finally departed Arda forever, in search of whatever strange destiny awaits your kindred outside its bounds. And once more I found myself mourning your loss, more quietly this time, but no less intensely. A private grief - for no one outside ourselves had ever learned of our marriage, and so I could not share my pain at this, its final ending.

And now I stand here in my great Hall, before my brothers and my kin and my subjects, the only one of my family to follow Grandfather’s example, though none but I am aware of that. Meril is soft and demure and soothing, with hair the color of a raven’s wing and gentle grey eyes - utterly unlike you. I find her presence strangely comforting; she calms my rages and my black moods, and I draw her out of her shyness. I am told we suit one another. She is the daughter of one of our most valiant commanders, from a family that has always been loyal to our House. My brothers seem pleased for me.

My eldest brother Maedhros is standing in for our dead father; soon he will be finished speaking, and it will be time for Meril and me to recite the Blessing. Tonight, after the celebratory feasting has concluded, I will lie with her, and then we will be bonded. Perhaps the soft touch of her cool and limpid fëa against my own will soothe my suffering spirit, still scorched so badly by your hot fires. I plan to lie with her often, in the hopes of fathering a child. For as the passing years have made clear, it now falls to me to insure the continuation of our line; Maedhros thinks of nothing but war, Celegorm and the twins think of nothing but hunting, and both Maglor and Curufin are sundered from their wives by a wide and hostile sea. Of all of us, only Curufin has fathered a child, in Aman before we departed for these shores; and I would have more than Celebrimbor’s frail shoulders on which to rest the fate of our House, for these are dangerous times.

I am not willfully cruel; I am deeply fond of Meril, and would never wish to see her hurt. She will never know that when I close my eyes while I couple with her tonight, in my mind I will be picturing a woman with hair the color of a wheatfield at harvest and earthen eyes filled with fire. I will never tell her that the heat in my loins has a source other than her charms. She will never learn that she will always be but second in my heart.

My foolish cousin Finrod counts philosophy among his many useless hobbies. I have never had any patience with it myself, for what is the point in indulging in such idle speculations when there is practical work to do? He has done much philosophizing about the differences between the Children of Ilúvatar, and the ultimate fate of our two kindreds; he says some believe that after the end of all things the two kindreds of Men and Elves will be reunited as a single people, to dwell together in Arda Healed. I do not know if this is true, but I will hope. I will hope that when the world is finally made new, I will walk again with you, Haleth. And in Arda Healed our bond will last forever, and our passion shall be a fire that will never die.

Chapter End Notes

Caranthir, Haleth, and Canon: In the Essay “Of Men and Dwarves” (The Peoples of Middle-Earth, History of Middle Earth vol. 12), Tolkien states that Caranthir is married. And in The Silmarillion, Tolkien says that Haleth never married; after her death, the leadership of the Haladin passed to her nephew Haldan (see the chapter “Of the Coming of Men into the West”). So how can I get away with writing this story without claiming it to be AU? Simple, really. Caranthir’s marriage is mentioned in exactly ONE sentence: “Others who were wedded were Maelor (Maglor) and Caranthir.” (The Peoples of Middle-Earth, History of Middle Earth vol. 12, p. 318). Nowhere does it state when he married (although Tolkien probably intended for him to be wedded while in Aman, nowhere does he actually state this). Since this relationship was secret, the historians writing about Haleth would have indeed regarded her as unmarried; and Caranthir’s marriage, alluded to in “Of Men and Dwarves,” would be the one between him and Meril at the end of this tale. So even though this story probably has Mr. Tolkien spinning in his grave, it’s technically (if not in spirit) within canon!

Elf Marriage: In “Laws and Customs among the Eldar” (Morgoth’s Ring, History of Middle Earth vol. 10, p. 210), it states that the Eldar marry “for love or at the least by free will upon either part.” So the fact that Caranthir feels no great passion for Meril is not a bar to their marriage; as long as they both consent freely to the union, the marriage will be valid. As for Caranthir’s view that he was married to Haleth, see p.212 of Morgoth’s Ring: “It was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete. ...it was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, both being unwed, to marry thus of free consent one to another without ceremony or witness (save blessings exchanged and the naming of the Name); and the union so joined was alike indissoluble.”

Remarriage after the death of a spouse: According to “Laws and Customs among the Eldar” (Morgoth’s Ring, History of Middle Earth vol. 10), Elf marriages last until the end of Arda. However, there is one exception - if one spouse dies and either chooses or is forced to remain in Mandos until the End of Arda, such that there is no chance of reunion with the living spouse, the marriage is deemed ended and the surviving spouse can remarry. (See “Laws and Customs among the Eldar” and the sections on the Doom of Finwë and Míriel in Morgoth’s Ring). Since when Haleth died, her mortal spirit left Arda completely, and there was no chance of her ever returning to reunite with Caranthir, their marriage ended with her death, and he was free to wed again if he wished.

The bond between married Elves: “...for the Eldar can read at once in the eyes and voice of another whether they be wed or unwed.” (“Laws and Customs among the Eldar” (Morgoth’s Ring, History of Middle Earth vol. 10, footnote #5, p. 228). Caranthir was assuming that only unmarried women (who might be interested in knowing if he is married, for obvious reasons) would have a reason to look for a marriage bond in his case (which may or may not be true).

Fëanor’s grandchildren: Celebrimbor is the only grandchild of Fëanor mentioned in The Silmarillion, and apparently the only grandchild of Fëanor in Middle-earth (it is unknown whether there may have been descendents who remained in Aman, not partaking in the Rebellion and Kinslaying, though it seems doubtful). So despite poor Caranthir’s hopes, his marriage to Meril will remain childless.