Pictures at an Exhibition by Robinka

Scar Tissue

A take on the ultimate meeting of Daeron and Lúthien, written for Lethe. The title is borrowed from the song by Red Hot Chili Peppers. A vignette.

Thanks for the beta go to Neume.

Solace.

He longed for a brief touch of the dearest hand that - he was sure - could have brought him peace at last. Kneeling in the soft grass on the bank of a lake, he ceased the sobbing that had been ripping his heart for long ages - how long? He could not comprehend, for his tears were of no help - they could not measure time.

The water replied to his sobs with a soft, soothing sound, lapping at the bank and his hand that had dipped in the shimmering pool.

"Daeron?" he heard, and nearly leaped up to his feet. Was it only his imagination? His long-withered ears must have cheated him, for there was nothing upon the shores of Arda that sounded as such. This voice was forgotten, buried deep in his memories - and nothing possessed the power to resurrect it.

"Daeron? Will you not look at me?"

"You are lost to me," Daeron responded, surprising himself, because his own voice came loud and firm. "Why do you torment me so?"

"I have come back to you," the melodic whisper resounded so close as though inside his thoughts. Daeron turned around, furious at the unbidden images that invaded his vision. Had she come back? No! Impossible!

"Why?" he uttered. "After all the tears unnumbered? After all the years uncounted?"

Silence.

So it had been an illusion, he sighed and looked back at the water, crouching and leaning forward to trail his palm along the otherwise undisturbed surface. The illusion could not answer to the obvious question that lingered in his mind. And yet...

"I have returned to atone for something that you deem a mistake, and I have come to see the sacrifice for a greater cause, Daeron."

A delicate, but undeniably real touch of a hand on his shoulder made him glance back and up, and he met the eyes that he had desired to see one more time - the tender gaze that he had known he would not be granted ever again. True? Daeron slowly stood up and faced her as she materialized in front of him, as fair as he remembered, smiling and gesturing toward the shore of the lake with a hand like pure alabaster.

"Are you real? Lúthien?" he whispered.

As much as you are. Wordlessly, she inclined her head and invited him to follow her along the bank as her fingers became clasped with his. And here, on the shores of Cuiviénen, the solace you have longed for is finally within your reach.