Sylvanlight, Book I by slflew

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Chapter 20. Captured.

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We live in a flicker of light/Swift as a swallow's wings/A day of sunshine and pain./Then dusk falls./And the bird flies home in the evening./I have sailed the blue ship with the silver prow/Over the sea of eternal stars/I have crossed the guardian's rim of fire/And passed into dreaming.  ~ OR Melling.

"'The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater. Some there are among us who sing that the Shadow will draw back, and peace will come again. Yet I do not believe that the world about us will ever again be as it was of old...Alas for Lothlorien that I love! It would be a poor life in a land where no mallorn grew. But if there are mallorn-trees beyond the Great Sea, none have reported it.'" ~ Haldir, The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien

 

The coming of the Vala Tulkas to the City of Dreams was in no way surprising to Feanor. In fact, he had almost expected it. So he had no second thoughts when he knelt before the pavilion. When Gwen did not kneel beside him, his heart nearly stopped. "Don't do this!" he whispered to her urgently, then remembered her reluctance to show piety before the Valar. "It's not worth it, not yet! You are still my property - do as I say!" He focused in order to cause punishment, but it had no effect before the guards came for her. He winced, concerned for her and, momentarily, for his damaged reputation. As the guard punched Gwen, he gasped, not knowing what would become of her.

He was horrified when, in defiance, Gwen pulled out the knife. "Don't do it. You can't do it," he whispered. He'd seen it several times, in person and in the papers, attempts on lives of the Valar. Every one had failed, and with the expertise of Tulkas, she wouldn't even touch him.

Feanor had a long history of hating the Valar, and he himself had tried to kill them through various means since he was released, but learned quickly that these efforts, even when done in secret, were futile. So he laid low in order to stay out of the Halls of Mandos. Feanor could hardly believe that Gwen's dislike of the Valar would lead her to do something so stupid. She was such a meek, uncomplaining, inquisitive girl that he didn't think she could do something like that anyway, even if there was no enchantment on the Valar.

So when she stabbed Tulkas, his jaw dropped in astonishment. For a second he thought his eyes deceived him. Then as the crowd roiled around him, he stood on his feet and punched  one of the people reaching for Gwen. It felt good.

He hadn't fought for years.

Others rose by his side and pulled soldiers away, so he grabbed her arm and, looking around, seized the reins of a nearby horse. He helped her up onto the horse and looked up at her, emotions raging through him. Recalling his conversation with Elrond, he sighed. "It truly is the end of the world." The unthinkable had happened, and it was going to change everything. "You must ride to the other side of the city, then flee north, as far as you can go. This mob will hold things up for a while, before they come looking for you." There was a gunshot, and the horse shied. Feanor ducked, and when he looked after her, she was gone.

He thought of something, then fought his way towards where the Vala had fallen. But his body was gone - Feanor searched frantically around, then saw the palanquin being carried away by soldiers pushing through the crowd. It was too riotous for him to follow them directly, so he headed for one of the nearby shops, reaching for the ladder that led up to the roof. Clambering up and looking around, he could clearly see the direction of the palanquin, which was being swiftly borne towards the center of the city. He ran and jumped to the next roof, landing with a jolt that reminded him acutely that his body was not the same as it once was. But he scrambled over it and went on to the next one, following the body. The soldiers changed direction abruptly, and he had to climb down across streets to follow them. There was a faint boom that echoed across the city, then a crack. Feanor looked briefly over the rooftops to see smoke rising from several important buildings. Some of those aligned with the rebellion were trying to build on the chaos that had already occurred.

When he got to the wider venues he had to continue on foot, but there were no riots here, and he ran, trying to keep the pavilion in sight as it was hauled to the Court of the Valar. He knew then what he must do. He cut around the side, searching for a servant's entrance. When he found it, he squeezed around a large dwarf to get inside, then ran across hallways and up stairs, to a gallery on the side of the Court. It was usually used by courtiers - people of very high rank to watch the proceedings in comfort. Crouching behind a pillar, he watched as the body of Tulkas was brought in.

The rest of the Valar materialized out of the corners and shadows of the large empty room. They ran to the still body of Tulkas, and a great keening wail came from Nienna. Feanor heard their hurried talk - "How could this have happened?" "He was stabbed!" "They'll have to pay for this!"

Feanor hoped desperately that Gwen had made it out of the city. He was honestly surprised at how emotional he was - it had been a long time since he'd had someone to look out for. The Valar were now moving the body to another room, so he stood on his feet and followed quietly, hoping he wouldn't be seen.

* 

Gwen woke up to cold water splashed over her face. Blinking rapidly to get the water out of her eyes, she slowly became aware of the pain arcing up and down her body. Her arms were strung up above her, lifting up her pained arms so that her toes barely touched the floor. She could feel the scratches the Police had given her acutely, and running her tongue over her lips to catch what water she could to quench her thirst, she looked around.

There wasn't much to see.

The cell was barely lit by a cluster of glowing crystals from the ceiling in one corner, and the cell had been crudely carved out of solid rock. Perhaps the most prominent feature was the dwarf who had thrown water on her. He grunted, noting she was awake. She twisted her body painfully to watch him exit through the door, made of solid wood that scraped loudly across the floor as it was closed, then locked. She twisted to the left to note a small window, more of a slit, that let in a view of solid, rather grey sky. She closed her eyes, willing every straining muscle of her body to sleep, but it never came. She stared at the crystals, feeling time creep ever so slowly by. Every minute she shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position so that her shoulders could get a break. To make things worse, now that she had woken up, her hunger was beginning to ravage her insides.

The problem with pain is that you can't even hear yourself think. You feel every minute acutely but your mind can't distract you from it.

The door finally opened, and the guard stood to the side to let someone through. She was a tall, imposing woman - the kind whose mere presence commanded respect and attention. She wore robes of heavy black, her hair of the same color flowed loose around her shoulders, and as she moved her hand to stroke the butt of her pistol, Gwen saw her hands were tattooed with a pattern she didn't recognize.

She paced furiously around the room, then reached up and grabbed Gwen's chin, forcing her to look up into amber eyes.

"It is unthinkable," the woman purred, "that an act of such magnitude could be started by one so low." She looked Gwen over judgmentally. "It is fortunate, however, that such accurate records are kept - that a slave can be identified by the mark of her master. Gwendolyn Llewellyn," she said, rolling the name off her tongue. "You've made quite an impact after such a short stay on our lovely planet."

Gwen couldn't contain herself. "What about Braden?" she blurted. "Is he here too?"

The lady frowned, then smiled. "That Only who tried in vain to save you, I believe. An unfortunate incident, I must say. But his master was duly compensated for his death."

Gwen bit her tongue hard, her throat closing as she thought about his still body - sacrificed to save her.

The woman in black studied Gwen's reaction closely, then laughed lightly. "The murderer is sorry for her friend's death. Ironic." She paced around Gwen. "It is most unfortunate you are not mine to interrogate - that a servant of Mandos must defer to Manwe!" She gave a bitter smile, leaning close so she was inches from Gwen's face, hot breath making Gwen shrink back. "How did you do it?" the woman hissed. "How did you kill  god whom so many have sought to destroy?" She brought out the pistol lovingly, then slammed the handle into Gwen's face.

Gwen cried out, head throbbing, blood trickling from a split eyebrow. "Why did you succeed where others have failed? Tell me!" she shouted. The door scraped open, and the dwarf walked in. "Lady Amarie," he said in a gravelly voice, cringing in expectation, "I am obligated to remind you that the interrogation must wait until Lord Caranthir arrives."

"I know that very well!" Amarie snapped, then composed herself. "This is not our last conversation," she told Gwen softly, then her form blurred, slinking forward, lengthening and solidifying into the form of a panther. The great cat exited, along with the dwarf, leaving Gwen to hang there.

She was quite unable to wipe away the blood now trickling from her head, so she closed her eyes and hoped the wound clot quickly. Time trudged its sullen pace. Eventually, she heard a small amount of noise outside - the changing of the guard, no doubt. She opened her eyes carefully, not wanting to be blinded. The light outside the slot had faded into darkness.

Her mouth was dry - her body pleading for water. Looking around, she saw none - no water dripping from the ceiling for leaking down the walls. Hours passed, and she began to tremble as any strength she had faded. She could acutely feel every wound made by the cruel claws down her back. In order to get her mind off the pain, she had angrily started to rant at the wall, imagining herself before her captors, bravely withstanding whatever they might dish out. Of course she knew what the end result of her imprisonment would be - a very public trial leading to her death. This filled Gwen with foreboding, and to dispel it, she shouted.

"Why, why did this happen to me? I was happy at home, and then it was ruined! It's all gone - all of it..." A sob wracked her body. "I just want to go home," she whispered. "I hate it here. I don't want to die..."

The light through the slot had long since lightened when Amarie returned, sweeping into the room followed by the dwarf and another person who Gwen brightened to see in such a dark place - Finrod. But when she could more clearly see his face, her heart dropped. For surely his hair was a similar shade of brilliant auburn, but his brown eyes and profile were not the same He was wearing a black velvet surcoat emblazoned with the emblem of Mandos and a seasoned sward at his side. Amarie nodded to the dwarf, who gave the key to Gwen's manacles to the newcomer. He silently strode up to her, reaching up to unlock the manacles, unscrewing. As soon as she could, she put her arms down, but cried out at the pain it took, lifting them up to relieve it. She didn't look at her captors, embarrassed at her blatant weakness. Slowly she lowered her arms, but the muscles still protested.

Amarie stepped towards her, and involuntarily, Gwen drew back. Even though they had met only briefly, she didn't think Amarie had any good intentions. She disliked unpredictable people - Elves more than anyone were not easy to understand, which made them very dangerous in her book. Amarie casually plucked off her gloves, revealing the black tattoos that writhed over her hands. Tossing the gloves to the dwarf, she walked towards Gwen, who hastily backed up until she was trapped in a corner.

Amarie gave a curt smile. "Did you know, Gwendolyn, that this here," she gestured at the stranger, "is my son? I'm sure you didn't. He's very secluded in his work." She clasped her hands. "You see, I get very annoyed when I can't get information from my prisoners. So I asked my patron Vala, Mandos, if he couldn't do something about it. Well, there is always a price to be paid for such things, so I gave up my son to his service. In return, I've been given many powers. Shall I demonstrate?" She suddenly moved, quite quickly, and Gwen in vain tried to slap those tattooed hands away. But Amarie grabbed her wrists with a strong grip. Gwen struggled, but Amarie wouldn't let go.

Then every nerve ending in Gwen's body spasmed in agony, stopping as Amarie hissed. "How did you kill the Vala Tulkas? How did you kill a god?" The pain began again, and Gwen screamed, "I don't know! Please - I don't know!" Her vision clouded under the pain as Amarie grilled her. "Was the knife enchanted? Did Feanor give you a magical knife?" she snarled. It went on for ages as Gwen begged, screamed, pleaded, and cursed under the unrelenting watch of Amarie's son.

Eventually, Amarie tired of the charade. She let go of the girl's wrists, watching in distaste as Gwen fell to her knees, weeping. She turned on her heel, annoyed that id hadn't worked, and left, her son and the dwarf following. As the door was locked again, Gwen heard Amarie's voice dripping with disdain. "I've never seen such a pathetic display with no results." Then the footsteps faded away and the cell became quiet once more.

Over time, Gwen as able to stop sobbing. Her body was still in great pain, though it was less than before, and it hurt to move. She examined her arms and was surprised to see three bloody lines on both of them, as though the skin had cracked open, extending from the wrist to the elbow. She tore off cloth from her skirt to staunch the bleeding. Perhaps, she thought sullenly, she might die of thirst or infection before her execution. It would be less humiliating, she concluded, and would not give the Valar what they wanted.

Exhausted, she hoped that sleep would com, and it did - her exhausted body drifting into a thin, dreamless sleep.

She awoke only a little refreshed. The pain had reduced somewhat, but her tongue was swollen for want of water and she had lost all track of time. Quickly she got up and reached for the window slot, hoping to catch a little bit of dew or rain, but the slot was far out of reach.

Tired already from the effort, she slid against the wall to sit on the ground. She closed her eyes, remembering the incident that landed her here. Then she prayed more ardently than when she was drowning, more desperately than when she lay in the bowels of the ship bearing her away from her home. "Lord - " she whispered, and opened her eyes, feeling it was a futile effort, then stiffened her resolve. Lord, she prayed, help me please. Anything you can do, I'd really appreciate. I'm lost and alone, confused and I'm frightened, Lord. I very well might die.

This made her feel a bit better. To occupy her mind and keep it off her raging thirst, she mentally recited the Quenya, Sindarin, Numenorean, and Breech names for the months and days. When she ran out of these, she recited as much of the history of Arda as she could remember, but she soon lost interest and she sat in mournful thought of her bitter end. She knew full well the human body could really only go about three days without water. She started trying to count how long it had been since she had last taken a drink.

Halfway through her count, there was a commotion outside and the door was unlocked and opened, with Amarie once again coming into the room with her son. Gwen did not rise - she didn't want to expend energy she didn't have. A slew of attendants brought in platters of food and set them on the ground before her - meats with steam still rising from them, fresh fruit and bread. But Amarie took from her side a skin of water, holding it before Gwen's eyes - a prize worth dying for.

"You have done well in your purposes," Amarie said. "For that, we think you can be trusted. The ability to kill a Vala is one that is not just dangerous, but even more so in the wrong hands." She paced back and forth, black robes swirling across the floor. "I serve Mandos, the mighty judge, and it is he, not the lofty Manwe, who holds the power in this world. He deserves the complete rule of Arda, with me by his side, and he's giving you, Gwendolyn, a chance. If you will serve him and kill the other Valar, he will let you live." She held out the water, and all Gwen could think about was its wetness running down her throat. "I do not think," said Amarie, "that it is a hard choice. But you will be given all you desire, when your task is finished. And if you thought my methods were terrifying, think of the trial you will face later under Lord Caranthir."

This was a good offer, Gwen thought. Whatever principles she had once held were deeply diminished in a time of great need. God, it seemed, had deserted her. But as she shifted forwards to grab the flask, and its promise of life, she looked to the figure that stood shadowed behind Amarie. The son of Amarie had been watching her impassively, and now caught her gaze. But instead of the cold she had expected of him, there was something else in his look - not sympathy, but something akin to it. Slowly he shook his head, and though he said nothing, she understood his intent - Don't give up, it said. Don't give in.

All temptation fled then, and she stood, supporting herself against the wall. As she looked once more at the water, she instinctively thought of grabbing it from Amarie's hand, but she tore her eyes away and managed to speak her mind. "No."

Amarie raised her eyebrows, genuinely surprised. When she saw Gwen was serious, she chuckled quietly. "You know I would have you perish before Lord Caranthir arrives. The soldiers of Manwe cannot earn such a prize as you." She opened the skin and drank from it, drops running down her chin, smiled, and left once more, the servants taking the food. At the doorway she stopped. "If," she said, "You happen to change your mind, call for the guard." Then she was gone, and the others with her.

Gwen didn't doubt her words. Trembling, she slumped to the floor. Why had she done that? Taken the silent message of someone she didn't even know? Now she would die for sure. Briefly she considered going to the door, pleading, but she knew in her heart she had done the right thing.

Hours crept by, and she heard once more the changing of the guard. Suddenly, the door was unlocked and opened. Gwen closed her eyes, not wanting another confrontation with Amarie. When she opened them, however, it was not the cruel woman who stood in the cell, but rather the small elf that was Amarie's son. He was no longer dressed in the raiment of Mandos, instead he was wearing several worn shirts beneath a light sweater with many holes in it, as well as amulets on leather cords around his neck.

What drew her eye, however, was not his presence, but rather the fact that he was carrying a flask of water. "Is this a new tactic of your mothers'?" she asked. "A sort of good cop/bad cop routine?"

He looked annoyed, and swiftly strode over to her, uncorking the water and handing it to her. She picked it up and, with her hands shaking, drank greedily. "Slowly," he said. "I can't go out for more, and I don't know the next time I can come - my mother isn't often distracted."

Gwen wiped her mouth on her dirty sleeve, examining him more closely. He was a bit shorter than the average Elf, with a tightly wound body. He was looking disinterestedly around the cell when she finished drinking. "Thank you," she said, a little out of breath from drinking so heavily. "You just saved my life."

He shrugged. "It's nothing, really." He reached for the flask, but Gwen withheld it. "First I must know our name."

He pursed his lips. "Eleyond."

She wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out the Elvish. "What does it mean?"

"I believe the correct translation is 'Behold! A son!'"

"All that in a name?"

"Elvish can at times be succinct."

Gwen looked at him thoughtfully, really wanting more information. "Why did your mother give you to the service of Mandos?"

Eleyond glared at her, then wrested away the flask. He left quickly.

The next night, Eleyond visited again with water and by then food - a handful of grapes and cheese. He spoke nothing, answering none of her questions. Amarie visited once more, clearly annoyed that Gwen was not dead.

The next time Eleyond visited, he spoke as she was eating. "My mother would prefer you to die quietly, I'm afraid. She can just say you refused to eat or something like that. Any evidence of murder would look bad for her. But she will kill you to avoid handing you over to Manwe. Even those who last the longest are those of high Numenorean blood, and they only last at most seven or eight days without water. Lord Caranthir is delayed at present, but he will arrive before long."

"Why then keep me alive?" Gwen asked, licking her fingers.

"Because I'm sure a rescue will present itself," he said carefully. "Though I don't want to raise your hopes. News of you capture has spread rapidly and there are others who want to question you."

"I'm afraid I have no answers."

He shrugged. "But they don't know that, do they? Their hands will be much kinder, I'm sure." Hesitating, he continued. "My story is a long one, but you've asked to hear it."

"If you have time," she said dryly.

He ignored the sarcasm. "I do. My mother is out for a while." Sitting down across from her, he began. "I've read in your paperwork that you've recently come from Earth. This may come as a surprise to you, but there were Elves on Earth - "

Gwen interrupted impatiently. "I know - Finrod told me all about it."

Eleyond looked at her, astonished. "Then you know much of my story already!" He stopped, considering this new information. "Finrod and Amarie knew one another before embarking on the ship that accidentally brought them to Earth."

"Really!?"

"Yes," he said, exasperated. "Let me finish without interruptions! They were married, in fact. But after beginning to settle in Britain, they had strongly different opinions - Amarie thought they ought to try and return home, but Finrod was less inclined to do so. Amarie had a far lesser view of Men than Finrod, so they grew apart. Eventually, my mother joined the Unseelie court, and they became estranged. Yet once in a while, in loneliness and love one would find the other, and spend brief amounts of time together. Amarie earned quite a reputation among the Unseelie Folk." He hesitated. "She was even called by a name later considered Morgan le Fey.

"Their brief trysts grew briefer, then stopped altogether for many years. But after the fall of Arthur, they were troubled and met under the grey twilight. Afterwards they agreed to finally go their own ways, with Finrod leaving Britain for a time.

"It was soon afterward that she found she was pregnant." His eyes drifted. "I am a child of two worlds, born from the crossroads of darkness and light. Love and anger, mingled." Remembering, he gave a small smile. "That is why my Elvish name is 'Behold! A son!'" he said. "My mother was quite surprised at my arrival! But my name was not always Elvish."

He looked down at his hands. "My mother abandoned me soon after I was born. I've asked her several times why, but the only answer she will give is that life at that time was difficult. Nevertheless, a knight stumbled upon me when I was crying alone in the depths of a forest, and took me home, raising me as his own son.

"You probably think I was raised in a castle, but at the time it wasn't so. Knights were subject to their lords, and so our house was nicer than many and we had vassals, but we were not great folk. Few at that time were literate, so I did not learn my letters. Fairly early on, I became aware that I was not the same as other children, though I might look like them. The stories of Elves by that time had long been lost or frittered down into paltry tales, so I never thought myself associated with them. Before long the Crusades began, and I embarked, more than a little afraid on a journey to the edge of the known world, serving my father." He was lost in memory now. The Crusades hadn't been pretty. "I grew up quickly on that journey," he said. "My father was killed in battle, but I stayed to help my lord. When I returned home, I found many I had known, including my mother.

"From here my tale perhaps grows long. I won't bore you with the people I met or places I visited. But I learned much - but as time wore on people began to notice that I hadn't changed. That time hadn't touched me - even I was disturbed when I thought about it. When rumors reached their worst, I left for Italy.

"There I learned many things, including how to paint and to navigate by masters of the craft, and sailed to far-off lands. Over the centuries I moved to Spain, then the Americas - I can admit, I fought in many wars. As puzzled as I was by my about my own immortality, I did at times think of ending my life by my own hand, but never had the heart, even in the darkest of times. I've certainly had brushes with death.

"Things got more difficult as time progressed, especially to give myself new identities, and I needed more contact with the criminal underworld than I would have liked. Nevertheless, I was able to sign up for a few wars." He pursed his lips. "I was killed during World War II, by a stray bullet on a Pacific island. Then I wound up here, to my surprise, and the administrators had no clue what to do with me. So they asked around, and my mother showed up. It was a bit of an awkward meeting, I must confess. But she told me the rest of my story, of who I was, and I grew closer to her for it. But I had no idea she was using me to her own ends. When she brought me before Mandos for the first time, she pledged me to his service. And thus I was sent into his Halls, to torment those who were being punished." Then he closed his eyes, pain flashing across his face. "I've seen much of death - living among Men only reminds me of it more often. I've been in bloody wars, and even now I feel though at times I take pleasure in other people's pain. Call me a monster if you will, but not heartless - it sometimes helps the pain I feel inside to abate a bit. Then I feel awful for it. I haven't slept for days."

"Have you never met your father?" Gwen asked.

"I tried, but it turned out he was still on Earth until recently."

Gwen winced. "Right."

"But what you've done - it's incredible."

"Incredible? It landed me in jail."

He leaned in towards her, excited. "Don't you see? You're a light from the shadows - hope when there is none. You've shown we can't be restricted under the Valar's rule any longer - that they're not all-powerful! Rumors are already flying around the countryside.. The rebellion has renewed fighting because of it!" Suddenly worried, he plucked out a pocket watch, then snapped it shut and leapt to his feet. "I've got to go, but I'll come back when I can." With that, he left.

It began to get cold, and Gwen huddled in a corner to preserve warmth. Then she saw something strange - a sort of smoke was drifting through the slot. Her first instinct was that it was meant to kill her - to make her die of smoke inhalation. It was an inventive method, to say the least. But when she got a whiff of the smoke, but it was not wood smoke. Living in Maine, she had gotten to know that smell well. Rather than the earthy smell of wood, it was a sweet smell. Not cloying and heavy like incense, but light.

Spots began to swim across her vision and a heavy weight lay upon her. She drifted into sleep, but her dreams were vivid, so that she remembered them clearly after she awoke.

It was as though she was transported, through time and space, the stars whirling past her and the entirety of Valinor before her. A great gravitational thrust brought her into the Court of the Valar, stopping so that she was squeezed into a closet - very claustrophobic. Beside her was the huddled form of Feanor, but as she nudged him, he did not answer. It was as though she wasn't there.

He was hunched beside a grate leading into another room, and as she looked through, she saw eleven Valar standing in a ring around the shrouded body of Tulkas. It was the first time she had seen all of them - it was very rare for Manwe and Varda to come down from Taniquetil, but when they did they did not stray far beyond the reaches of the City of Broken Dreams. But a twelfth figure stepped up to the circle, and Gwen heard Feanor's sharp intake of breath. The figure was clad in armor and shrouded in darkness - none less than Morgoth. Nessa and Vana moved to make room for him, and all were clearly uncomfortable with his presence, but he was not rejected.

Manwe broke the silence, speaking slowly. "We have long been caretakers of this world - it was our charge, but now this world has taken one of our number from us. There have always been those ungrateful for our sacrifices, but now their numbers are strengthened. They've forgotten what we've done for them." There were murmurs of agreement from around the circle. "Long has our conflict been insignificant, but now I submit that, in memory of our fallen companion, vengeance must be wrought upon those who would sanction such an act. They must pay for what they've taken from us. A disagreement will become war, but it will be easily handled." Most of the Valar nodded their approval.

Suddenly, there was a noise behind Gwen and Feanor looked back. Light shone on his face as the closet door was thrust open. He leapt to his feet, but it was too late - one of the soldiers pulled a pistol and shot him. Gwen screamed, but no one could hear. The soldiers dragged Feanor's body out, and the vision suddenly shifted.

She was no longer in the bloody closet, but rather on a grassy hilltop. Before her were two trees.

She recognized them instantly from stories and prevalent artwork. Laurelin and Telperion reached up into the starlit sky, casting off their glow. They were far more beautiful than she had imagined. As she reached up to touch one of the shining branches, she awoke suddenly.

The sweet scent still hung vaguely in the air, but nothing else was in the cell that could have woken her. Then the door clicked open, the person behind it trying successfully to push it without scraping. Eleyond came in, trying to close the door just as silently. He was carrying a flask of water.

"I had the strangest dreams - " Gwen said, but Eleyond interrupted her.

"The guard is asleep," he said. "They've been trained not to - it's very odd, but lucky. Here, I brought - " But before he could finish his sentence, there was a mighty crack.

They looked frantically around to find the source of the noise, and there were more cracks - of something splitting. Gwen looked at the far wall, the one with the slot to the outside, and there were cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. The wall disintegrated with a boom, pebbles flying in all directions. When the dust cleared, Eleyond stared in shock at the figure who stood outside.

The stranger was leaning on a staff with a top tapering into a leafy, flowering twig. His face was serene, head shaved, and half-naked except for white cloth wrapped around  his waist, falling to his ankles. He had tossed the remainder of the cloth over his shoulder. Gwen guessed he was some sort of monk.

"Greetings," he said. "You'd best come out before the guards wake up."

The thrill of release rushed through Gwen, and she carefully stepped through the rubble onto the grass outside. She looked back to see Eleyond still standing in the cell.

"Come on," she said. "Why are you waiting?"

"I'll just make you easier to find," he replied. "I'm in service to the Valar, recall."

"I'm already wanted, and you won’t make more of a difference. Come on, it's your freedom too."

"Well, three is company," the monk said. "Shall we depart in all haste?"

"Yes, let's!" Gwen said enthusiastically.

"Where are we going?" Eleyond demanded.

"Away," the monk replied vaguely. "Specifically, North, if that's what you're looking for."

The police fortress had been built into the solid rock of a hill. It had been built to be as secretive as the Police themselves were, and so it was surrounded by tall scrubs and grasses - the three of them were quickly under cover.

They had walked a solid eight or nine hours before Gwen needed to rest. They didn't build a fire, for they were now in flatlands, but they were able to sit and drink.

"What is your name?" Eleyond asked the monk.

He smiled. "My name doesn't really matter," he said. "You may call me Cerederthan, if you would like. I'm sure you both have many questions. I am a servant of Irmo, otherwise known to us as Lorien."

"Did you send me those dreams?" Gwen asked.

"That you dreamed, I am sure. But what you dreamed, I cannot tell. The guards I sent into Dreaming, as well."

"Are you taking us to your monastery?" she said, worried.

The monk blinked, clearly surprised. "I was not aware you knew of it. But yes, that is where we are going."

"My mother is a slave there," Gwen said. "It's in the records, that's how I knew about it."

He looked nonplussed. "I have not been back to the monastery for nigh on twenty years, so I cannot say whether she is working there. But I am glad it gives you hope."

"How did you know that Gwendolyn was captured?" Eleyond asked, still eyeing the monk with caution.

"Let's say I was at hand. I had a dream of my own and came to help you."

"But how did you get us out? I've never seen anything like that before," Gwen said.

"Everything," the monk answered serenely, "has something that will make it break, physically or not. With a single blow, I could destroy your friend, or with a single sentence disturb his heart. So too stone walls can with a single touch be felled. One must only understand the shatterpoints of the world, and understand much." His gaze was penetrating. "We have found the shatterpoint of the Valar, for example."

She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Nevertheless, we have a problem - Gwendolyn does not have traveling papers."

But Eleyond was thinking. "Gwendolyn, if you had never seen Finrod, would you have thought I was him?" Gwen nodded. "From what I understand, a slave and master may travel freely together."

"But we are traveling into the Northern Realms, where folk are familiar with Finrod's ways. He never kept slaves before he left."

"Things can change temporarily, I think," Eleyond pointed out, "for our purposes."

As soon as the sky began to lighten with dawn, they set out. The scrubland petered out into wetlands, so the ground squelched beneath her feet. They followed the broken remains of an aqueduct, then continued when it veered away. Mills churned out smoke in the distance. By mid-afternoon Gwen was exhausted, but refused to say anything, wanting to get as far away from the fortress as possible. Presently, they came to a stone-paved overgrown road.

"This was once a commonly-traveled trade route to the North," said Cerederthan. "But other roads have since taken precedence. This road will take us to the monastery, if you would like to traverse it, or we can go by another way. This road intersects with larger ones at various points."

"I'm not worried," Eleyond said, "especially if we are vouched for by a monk of Lorien. Will you do that?"

The monk shrugged. "Perhaps. My order takes a vow to never interfere in affairs."

"Why then did you free Gwendolyn?" Eleyond asked.

"We are allowed to push things towards a course."

This was enough for Eleyond, and they started down the road. Its deep wheel ruts testified to its past usage. I rained for two days as they trudged along the path - for the most part silent, as Cerederthan seemed to have little to say.

Finally on the third day the sun broke through the clouds, illumining the wide grasslands. "This was all once forest," said the monk. "but they have long since been cut down. A tragedy in its own right."

"Was this not once the forest of Lorien, your master?" asked Eleyond.

"I thought they weren't cut down - a clerk asked if they should cut down the forests of Lorien to make paper," Gwen added, surprised.

"That must have been a statement of irony," said Cerederthan. "For this was indeed the home of Lorien and Este, his wife. But when others had need, they cut down the trees, so that the forest grew ever smaller. Este has always slept peacefully on an island in Lake Lorellin, in the center of the wood. When the axes grew ever closer to the lake, he gave up resisting. He placed powerful wards around what remained of the lake and forest, so that no one might disturb the gardens there. Greatly wearied by the hurts his forest had suffered, he took Este and journeyed to the mountains, where he laid to sleep beside her. Our monastery guards them. But a small bit of that forest remains, and by my reckoning we will be there in a week's time. There is a major road nearby, but it forgoes the forest for a straighter path. The path we are on leads to it. The lake is a site of pilgrimage, and when this road was in use there were many pilgrims who visited the forest. Some still do, but their numbers have lessened."

They stopped for the night at a set of statues that lined both sides of the road, seven on each side - statues of the Valar. The Valar strictly regulated what their images could portray - what positions, colors, clothing, and animals they could be shown with. Nevertheless, Gwen felt uncomfortable under their stony stares. Noticeably, the statues of Este and Lorien were missing. The wind whistled bleakly over the land.

It have been fortunately warm at night, so their lack of blankets was not noticeable. But their clothing was getting quite worn. Eleyond, it turned out, was quite good at catching small game and fish, things he said he learned "when I was quite young."

They soon happened upon small farms that quickly turned into a town - albeit a fairly empty one. As the trade route became less and less traveled, many residents had left, leaving abandoned buildings. The three of them decided not to stay there, but to push on through the night. It seemed to them a place that might be crime-ridden or worse.

About two more days out, they came across another traveler, the first they had seen while on the road. He was a halfling, but what Gwen noticed immediately about him was that his hand was not marked. The others noticed this as well, and, their interest piqued, asked who he was.

He didn't understand Breech. The monk gently tried Westron, which the hobbit seemed to understand a bit better. Gwen knew a little, but as the conversation grew more rapid, Eleyond had to translate for her.

"My name is Frodo," said the halfling in answer to Cerederthan's question. "And who are you?"

They answered with their names, although Eleyond gave his as Finrod. If the hobbit knew anything about them, he gave no indication. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Where the road leads us," said Cerederthan.

"That is my purpose, too," said Frodo. "I am very troubled, and I feel that a journey will help set me to rights, even if I don't know where I am going. I would be glad of company along the way."

"Why are you not marked? Are you not a slave?" asked Eleyond, voicing the question they all wanted to ask.

A dark look passed over the hobbit's face. "No, indeed, I am not," he said. "Although I almost wish I was, for all the trouble it's given me. The Valar gave me the gift of freedom."

This caused general exclamation of surprise.

"How is that so?" asked Cerederthan. "I have never heard of such an occurrence in my life!"

"I came over on a ship from Middle-Earth, with the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond Half-Elven - "

Here Gwen came in. "My master told me about that ship  - that it brought two halflings. But apart from him talking about it, I never heard anyone else mention it."

Frodo continued his story. "I also came with my Uncle Bilbo."

But he was interrupted again by Eleyond. "But I've never heard of anyone else besides Elves coming through the Iron Curtain. Why did you come through without fear?"

"We were both ringbearers - we bore a Ring of Power  in our lifetimes." And with that he seemed to look off in the distance, as if lost in a memory.

That answer seemed to satisfy Cerederthan, but Eleyond and Gwen looked at one another, confirming that both of them didn't know what the halfling was talking about.

Then Frodo spoke suddenly. "So for our service, the Valar gave us our freedom. But when they left the Blessed District and blinked the haze of joy from our eyes, e realized we had been cast aside, forgotten. I think this bothered me more than my uncle. He was having a wonderful time, talking over great matters with the Elves. But I felt I was missing something. I had hoped for peace, perhaps. One day Bilbo went to the libraries and never came back. Lord Elrond and I searched for him, but he must have gotten lost in the lower levels."

"I nearly got lost there myself," said Gwen. "I narrowly escaped."

"But since then I've observed things, and decided to go looking for something I'm missing. So here I am. I started walking, and now I'm here."

Silence fell between them as fog crept up from a river before them. They crossed the great stone bridge, and when they stopped for the night, Eleyond broke one of the questions pressing to him."What was it like in the Green Lands - or, sorry - no factories, with forests and Elvenhomes of old."

"That is for the most part true," said Frodo. But like many tales it leaves out the bad parts. It has its share of wondrous things, perhaps. But it also has many dark places, full of evil and peril."

Cerederthan sighed longingly. "Here evil and good have faded and mixed, so that nothing is clear or certain."

"Do you miss it?" asked Gwen.

Frodo frowned. "Miss what?"

"Home. Your home," she said.

"Yes," he said softly, after a pause. "I do. I had hoped for adventure here, perhaps, or rest, but have found neither. It's the people that I knew, I think, that I miss the most."

Gwen had to look away, her eyes full of sudden tears.

Fortunately, the others did not notice.