Sylvanlight, Book I by slflew

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Chapter 21. The Journey.

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Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

 

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

 

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar,

I'll find the heavens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-Earth at last.

I see the Star above my mast!

 

               --'Bilbo's Last Song', by  J. R. R. Tolkien

 

The forests of Lorien could be seen from over a mile away, and Gwen had never been so glad to see trees in her life. It was a blazing hot day, bugs chirping in the grass, and they had run out of water an hour ago. It wasn't just the shade she was longing for, either. It was just seeing a forest after the dust and closeness of the city - it reminded her of home. When they drew closer, she noted that it was not a thriving forest. There were no young trees at the edges, or inside. Just old ones that soared loftily above them. There were pines, so that the ground they walked on was soft with pine needles.

Bird song drifted through the interior , and Gwen, following Cerederthan around trees, felt herself feeling more and more at peace. Her thoughts, in turmoil still from the things that she had done, stilled. It was like a breath of fresh air. They came quickly to the lake ringed by trees. There wasn't a breath of wind. The leaves didn't rustle, and the lake was smooth. Gwen guessed that it might be due in part to Lorien's wards.

Smooth worn stones led across the water to a tree-covered island, sticking perhaps two feet above the surface. Cerederthan strode across with assured steps from practice, but Frodo and the others were more careful. The hobbit seemed uncomfortable with the water, and even Gwen thought it odd to be standing on the surface of the water.

They made it without getting wet. The gardens there had long been untended, so flowers grew on shrubs wild and unpruned. But there was a path, which they followed to a clearing. There was a fountain made of stone, but it was unlike any other fountain Gwen had seen. Stone maidens with water dripping from cupped hands surrounded a tree, delicately carved so that she could barely tell whether or not it was real. Water plinked from its leaves into a pool at the center of the island, which was surrounded by stone steps leading into the water - built when pilgrims flocked to bathe in its clean waters.

Cerederthan took off his sandals, with Gwen following suit, unlacing her worn boots. She wiggled her toes, happy for them to be free. As the others stepped into the water, she hitched up her skirt to wade. The water was cool and soothing on her blistered feet. Evening crept near, and the sun's last rays illumined the tops of the trees. None of them dared to break the silence with a word. As night approached, the lawn began to bloom with white flowers opening to the starlight. They lay in the grass, drying, and Gwen happily drifted off to sleep. It was not a sleep of dreaming, but merely a deep rest, so that she woke up feeling better than she had in many days.

Eleyond was awake before her, but the other two were still asleep. He gave a small smile. "I could stay here for ages," he said. "But we cannot stay here long. Every day is another where the Police can find our whereabouts."

Gwen's heart sank, hating to be reminded of the outside world. She rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the morning chill. Eleyond had been generously allowing her to borrow his hole-ridden sweater, but it didn't hold everything at bay.

"I couldn't help but overhear," said Frodo, startling the both of them, "that you are running from the Police."

Gwen winced. "You heard correctly," she said.

"Have no fear. I don't know what you've done, but my lips are sealed. You seem like decent enough folk, and since you are with Finrod Felagund of renown, and a servant o fthe Valar, I'm sure it is a matter of little consequence."

Eleyond glanced over to Cerederthan's sleeping figure. "Do you suppose we ought to wake him?"

"He's a monk of Lorien," said Gwen. "He might sleep forever."

They decided to give him a bit more time, and Gwen dunked herself in the water to clean off sweat and grime.

Without constant care while she was in Valinor, her long hair was difficult to manage. It would get knotted, matted, and greasy, so she had taken to wearing it in braids for as long as possible. Short hair on women was not common, but women cut it when they were in mourning, and some did so to make a statement.

While she was re-braiding her hair, Cerederthan awoke. He looked at the bright sky, and said, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"We didn't want a grumpy monk to keep us company," said Frodo with a small smile. He looked up suddenly, as a stranger entered the clearing. Catching a glimpse of the person, Gwen looked away with a blush. He was stark naked. She heard Cerederthan talk to the stranger in hurried Sindarin, then a rip, which she assumed was the ripping of his robes - the only real clothing to spare between them. Eleyond laid a hand upon her shoulder. "It's fine," he said softly. "You needn't worry."

"Why did you come, pilgrim?" asked Cerederthan, whose robes now reached his knees.

The stranger answered haltingly, as though he were surprised at being able to speak. "I'm...broken," he said. "I think...I need to be fixed."

"Fixed?" asked Eleyond, frowning.

"The people on the road told me...that here I might be healed," said the young elf.

"I'm sorry," said Cerederthan, " but I know these gardens well. They can provide rest and dissipate weariness, but they have never healed."

Disappointment flooded the elf's face. "Oh," he said quietly, and turned to go.

"Pray tell us what your ailment is," said Eleyond. "Perhaps the monk can direct you to a better place for healing."

"I don't know what it is," said the man.

Gwen frowned. "What's your name, then?"

He turned mournful eyes on her. "I don't know. I don't know anything, really."

"You've lost your memory?" exclaimed Cerederthan. "I've never heard of that affecting an Elf. Elves have forgotten memories before, but not all of them."

"What's the first thing you remember?" asked Frodo curiously.

"Waking up in the grass next to the big road," said the stranger. "Then asking people about myself."

"Perhaps you were robbed and the thieves hit your head," offered Cerederthan.

The elf rubbed his unmarked hands through his dark hair. "My head doesn't hurt," he said.

Cerederthan shook his head, puzzled. "Perhaps those in my order can help find your memories for you. Come, we travel to the Monastery of Lorien, and we will not leave you here alone."

The elf considered this, then nodded.

"But what shall we call you?" asked Frodo. "We can't call you ‘Mister' or ‘No-Name'!"

They looked at one another. "Perhaps you ought to decide," said Cerederthan, turning to the stranger.

"Let the lady name me," he said. "I cannot think of any names."

Gwen pursed her lips, thinking. "How does the name Touchstone sound?" she ventured. "It's the name of a character in a book I once read, before it turned to dust. You remind me very much of him."

"It's a curious name," said Cerederthan.

"A fool's name," said Eleyond under his breath, looking, disturbed, at Gwen.

"Nonetheless, I think it suits me," said the elf. "Call me Touchstone."

*

Frodo, as he was walking carefully across the lake, was lost in thought. Here it was peaceful, and for the night his unrest lifted and memories did not plague him. He would have liked to stay there - a remnant of Valinorean legend, in peace for the rest of his days.

It would have been rather lonely, though, and he came to the sudden realization that something greater was going on, something he needed to be a part of, rather than turn his face away and ignore it. So he reluctantly departed with the others.

Gwen too as sad to go, but as she was traveling towards her mother, the desire to meet with her family was encouraged. So she strode on with purpose.

Aside from her family, one of the things Gwen missed about Earth was sleeping in a good bed. One doesn't really appreciate something until it is gone, and Gwen's aching back was a testament to that fact.

The time it took to get to the road was skewed according to Touchstone's reckoning, and it took them two days before they met the younger road, merging northward. Cerederthan assured them that it indeed did separate later, so that they wouldn't be on it for long. The next night, lying under a cloudy sky, Cerederthan shook Gwen awake. She started, looking up at him. "I wanted to catch you when the others aren't paying attention," he said, reaching into his bag and bringing out a knife. Gwen tensed suddenly, ready to bolt if need be. But instead Cerederthan handed it to her. "You can never be too careful," he whispered, then stood, going back to his watch. Gwen looked at the knife disgustedly, a bitter taste in her mouth from memories.

They continued as the next morning dawned, brooding thundershowers lurking on the horizon. Before evening came, they saw a place along the road built up with what could only be called a small village. There was an inn and stable, a farm and bar. They looked at one another, ragged and tired, and decided that, despite all risk, they ought to stay the night. However, there was a distinct problem - between the five of them, they had no money. "What a sorry bunch we make," said Eleyond. It had begun to pour, which made them all sullen. "A monk, a no-name, a Halfling, an Only, and a servant of Lorien. Together."

Cerederthan gave them a gentle smile.

"Can you see what the outcome of this might be?" asked Gwen.

"No. But I have seen us here. Whether it is the right path, I cannot tell. But we are going on the right one, I think."

But instead of going into the inn, he gestured for them to go into the bar. Gwen followed them, puzzled. She had never been inside a bar - Ash Mills had two, but she'd never been inside them. She had some drunks in her family, to be sure, but had never been a person to go to parties. Nevertheless, if they were broke, it didn't make sense to buy drinks.

When they entered the smoky interior, the bartender eyed them warily. Cerederthan sat down at the bar as the rest of them slid into seats around a table. The bartender leaned over to the monk. "We don't serve unless you pay first," he said. "We've had too many people run out without paying. Policy."

"I tell stories," said Cerederthan.

*

All in all, he made more than enough for them to stay the night. He became a different person when telling stories - lively, entertaining. Some of the stories had points, and Touchstone in particular had listened with a rapt expression.

Gwen found out that she was to share her bed with a complete stranger. Eleyond looked at her with a strange expression when she was confused. "It's been done like that for a long time on Earth," he said. "It conserves beds."

"They're women, don't worry," said Cerederthan. "It's a room meant for Elves, but the only space for a woman left in the inn. We had to pay a lot to get you in there, being an Only."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically.

"Hey! We all have to share beds too," said Touchstone.

"We'll be rooming together," explained Cerederthan.

Gwen walked heavily down the corridor, opening the room door. The bed took up most of the room, but no one else was there yet. She'd never been happier to see a bed. She threw herself on it, scooting over to the far side, and then pulled up the covers and immediately fell asleep.

She woke up sore but happy  - it was still dark out. She was instantly aware that there was someone beside her, smelling strongly of wine. Slowly she turned over so as not to wake them, but her heart stopped when she saw who it was.

She would've known that face from a mile away. It was Amarie, no doubt in the search for her. Very slowly she turned back over and got up, looking anxiously at Amarie's sleeping form.

She could kill her right now, she realized. Amarie would never know who did it and the temporary loss of their commander would delay the Police, at least. Just a simple slit across the throat. She reached for her knife, but stopped. She couldn't do it - what she had done before was defense. This would be murder, plain and simple - even if the Elf would still be alive. Taking the knife, she slit the pillowcase beside Amarie's face.

Softly she sheathed the knife and quietly left the room. It wasn't until she got to the end of the hall that she broke into a run, until she reached Eleyond's room. Gasping for breath, she shook Eleyond. Sleepilty he opened his eyes.

"Police! The police are here!" she whispered hoarsely, and he was up in a flash. Gwen woke the others and they hurried together, out of the inn. Cerederthan looked to make sure there was no one outside, then led them away from both roads. A hundred feet out from the road, they began to run.

Of course, they had to slow down for the Halfling, but it was imperative that they go quickly. The country was hilly and thus difficult to navigate, but Cerederthan did so with skill, using the hills to mask their escape. At perhaps midday they slowed, but still kept a hard pace.

They also walked into the night. Gwen was exhausted and very nervous, often glancing back to see if they were being followed. When the new day dawned, they stopped to sleep, with a careful watch. As they ate a meal together, Eleyond said, "Do you mind, Gwendolyn, if I ask how you knew the Police were at the inn?"

"I woke up next to Amarie," she said.

They stared at her, amazed, and Cerederthan laughed. "Really? That's a story in the making, and no mistake!"

"It must have been quite a fright," said Eleyond.

"What did you do?" asked Touchstone, his eyes wide.

Gwen hesitated, but couldn't tell them the whole story. "I left, quiet as a mouse, and came to get you."

Cerederthan was the only one who noticed her lie, but didn't say anything. Whatever it was she had done, he would find out later. "This tells us how close we were to capture," he said. "From now on we must take great haste in reaching the mountains."

They strove onwards for many days. They had to skirt towns, fording rivers so as to avoid meeting mills. Although they often talked and sang to pass the time, Gwen found herself deep within her thoughts. She desperately hoped her mother was all right, but seeing a monk of Lorien and the way he treated people made her feel better about the affair. She was more worried about her father and brother. She had found that, during her time in Valinor, many slaves were strongly resentful of all Elves. Perhaps in part because of a master who clearly explained all sides of the issue, Gwen found herself sympathetic to both sides.

Gwen winced, remembering her master's death. She couldn't be sure it was true, but she felt it was. What would become of Feanor? Would he be kept once more in the Halls of Mandos?

Gwen examined her arms. The tears in her skin, six in all, had healed into thin white scars. Cerederthan sat beside her. "What happened in the inn?" he asked, his keen eyes fixed on hers.

She looked down. "I thought about killing her. I've never been more ashamed of thinking like that."

"Why didn't you?" he asked.

"I couldn't commit murder. Other people can call me a murderer, but that wasn't my intent. I was defending myself."

"So you say. But many think that your defiance before the murder was proof of your intent."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Please don't call it that."

"Killing, then. Your likeness, I've found, is being spread throughout the continent. You may not be able to stay in any public place."

"What will we do?" she asked.

"I'm sure we'll think of something," he said, and disinterestedly watched Frodo and Touchstone talking.

"I did something else, though," she said softly.

Cerederthan raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I slit the pillow beside her. I wanted her to know how close to death she came."

"If you are looking for me to approve of your action," he said carefully, "you should know I cannot. It is not for me to choose what your story will tell. That is up to you. But that may make their search ever more ardent, so we ought to keep close watch."

Steadily, day by day, great mountains loomed out of the distance. At first they looked like clouds obscured by smog, but they grew to great heights, white-capped and majestic, untouched by the industries below.

One night, the vague stars obscured by greasy clouds, Eleyond caught a pair of doves. Cerederthan prepared them, and after dishing them out, one by one, he noticed Gwen pause before eating, closing her eyes briefly before eating heartily. Afterward, when the others were readying for sleep, he sat down beside her. "Do you pray to a god?" he said softly, clear eyes searching.

She lowered her eyes. "Yes - but why on earth do you ask?"

He stared into the small fire. "Well, I was just wondering. To whom do you pray?"

She considered this. "The Christian God. We just call Him God, really."

"Curious." They sat there in silence for a while. Finally, he stirred a bit. "Why do you believe in your god?" he asked slowly. "You've made it clear you do not believe in ours, even though they stand before you."

"I'll ask you this first," Gwen said. "Why don't you believe in Ea?"

"Why should I?" he asked. "If the legends are true, he has abandoned us to the care of the Valar. Never has he made himself known to us, and the ancient hopes we once had we have long forsaken. What creator would take so little care of his created? The Valar shaped this world - we might have been one of their thoughts, and none have taken the credit. Aule brought forth life himself, and it has been rumored that Morgoth has, as well. Trust me - scholars have long debated upon these questions."

"Why then do the Numenoreans still speak of him?" she asked.

"The Numenoreans have long held hope in Ea, even against all odds. I would call them foolish beliefs - believing in something one cannot see. The true gods walk among us."

Gwen pursed her lips. Cerederthan was a firm, solid person, and she did not want to get into an argument with him. "I believe in my God for many reasons, many more difficult to explain than others."

"Do you believe in Ea, then?" he interrupted abruptly.

"I hardly know what to believe anymore. Before my town was attacked, I had believed that there might be other worlds and such without question, because God is powerful and can do anything. He never needed to let us know. I think that perhaps Ea might be Him, but I'm hesitant to make that assumption. Perhaps He works with different worlds in different ways."

Cerederthan's eyebrows went up. "Are you saying that this god has spoken with your people in the past?"

"Well, yes. He's shown Himself in many ways."

"Then he could not be Ea." Cerederthan's voice was firm. They said nothing to one another for the remainder of the night.

Soon they came upon a clear river that rushed from the mountains, and they followed it northward. The river water was freezing cold. "I comes from the glacier Aeglironion, up north," said Cerederthan. "There lies our road. The trade route we were following led to it, as well. But partly what led to the collapse of the trade route was the advance of the glacier, which destroyed the bridge that crossed the lake before it. Ever since then, those that follow that route must cross the glacier. We will go that way."

"Cross a glacier?" asked Gwen dubiously. "That's rather dangerous."

"How so?" asked Touchstone.

"We could fall into a crevasse - big holes in the glacier. Sometimes the snow covers them and you step into unsafe ground," she said.

Cerederthan nodded. "It's claimed many lives."

Frodo was frowning. "Couldn't we cross the river earlier, before the lake?" he asked.

"There's no other way to the path going through the mountains. We cannot reach it on another approach."

"Have you not gone that way enough to know where they are?" asked Eleyond.

"Glaciers shift and move, melt and freeze over! No, indeed not" said Cerederthan with a smile.

Within a week the mountains loomed before them brightly and the river began to widen. The crystalline lake, a cold, clear blue, stretched towards the glacier, a white wall, streaked with grey, stretching between two broad mountains. Gwen shivered. None of them were ready for a cold journey, with thin clothes and no cloaks.

They heard deep thumping sounds, like the deep rumbles that come before a thunderstorm. For a moment, Gwen thought it was coming from the glacier, but the sound drew nearer. Eleyond clasped his sword, and the others readied their weapons, except for the monk. Rounding over a hill, Gwen saw first a tall dinosaur head, swaying on a long neck before others came into view as well - people riding dinosaurs or horses, with some carrying loads on their backs or in carts behind them. The fastest of the riders quickly surrounded them.

Their hands were bound and the rest of the convoy halted to make camp.

As preparations were made around them, they were hustled to the leader of the convoy, who stood proudly amongst the clamor. He was tall, swarthy, with white stubble on his chin and a weathered face, sizing them up with cold blue eyes.

"To where are you traveling?" he finally asked.

They all looked at Cerederthan, who answered calmly.  "We are traveling to the Monastery of the Vala Lorien."

The man nodded the thugs standing beside them, who proceeded to roughly search the group. They took all their weapons, Eleyond's amulets, as well as Cerederthan's staff and bag, including the money they had left over from their night at the tavern. The leader looked over it all with an expression of disappointment. "I had hoped for more," he said with a sigh.

One of the women came up and whispered in his ear; he then smiled and thanked her. Coming up to them, he seized Gwen's hand and examined her mark. "We shall feast tonight!" he exclaimed. "The price on your head is no small sum." The thugs took their arms, Eleyond and Touchstone struggling hard against their captors. But Cerederthan looked the bandit in the eye. "Whatever you'd get paid, there are others who would pay more."

The leader sneered, baring white teeth. "All prisoners say that."

"Do you know what she did?" ventured Eleyond.

The man shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"She killed one of the Valar," Cerederthan's smooth voice cut over the noise. "Now imagine what she'd do to you."

The leader squinted at Gwen, then looked at the woman who had informed him. She nodded. The thugs, worried, loosened their grips. Striding up to Gwen, the man scrutinized her. She held her chin up, gaze unwavering. The leader then motioned to let them go, handing Cerederthan his things. "My mistake," he said.

"You chose wisely," said Cerederthan. "However, you can still make a profit for your trouble."

"Oh?" the smile returned to the thief's face.

"If you help us make the glacier pass safely, with food and warmth, my monastery would make it worth your while."

He considered this briefly while the others in his band watched him, awaiting his decision. "Very well," he said.

A fire was built that snapped and crackled high, and the group was treated to a feast, at least in Gwen's eyes. They all sat on the ground, eating with their fingers, and Gwen was beckoned by the leader to sit on his left. Cerederthan grabbed Gwen's arm as she went to join the elf. "Be careful," was all he said.

The leader was licking his fingers after finishing off a bit of wildfowl when Gwen came, and he gestured once more for her to sit. "My name is Herion," he told her, then motioned to the young person sitting on his right - "and this is my eldest son, Suiauthon."

"Greetings," said Suiauthon, peeking around his father.

"It is truly an honor to have one more powerful than the gods dining with us," said Herion, selecting an apple and biting into it.

Gwen paused. "Sometimes it's not a matter of power, but of weakness."

A smile twitched around his mouth. "Indeed."

"Do you mind if I ask - why did you turn to thievery?"

"This civil war. And, well, profit. Both sides are willing to pay for technology and information. The war has long been a stalemate."

"Why is there fighting, though? I've never been told why."

"Over the Valar, of course - whether or not they have the right to be gods. Those who support the Valar, or are conscripted into their army, are fighting against the dissenters. When you're immortal, these disputes can last for a long time. But you've brought something new to the equation, that's for sure."

They ate for a while in silence. Then Gwen thought of something Herion might know. "Who's the ‘Prince'? I've heard some people talk about him, but I've never known what they were talking about."

Herion gave a laugh and took a deep quaff of his wine. "The Prince is a title that refers to the leader of the Numenoreans - his ancestors long ago went underground. He is the descendent of the Numenorean kings, giving great hope to your people. The Valarian armies have looked for him long and hard - I myself have tried to gather information as to his whereabouts, but to no avail. He is considered great among men. I myself wondered if the young man with you might be him, but the Prince would not be so careless to wander around and allow himself to be captured so."

Still, it was an option Gwen hadn't thought of. Touchstone had no memory of what had happened to him, and the Prince, never a slave, would not have a mark on his hand. The line between Elves and Men was very thin, indeed.

*

The next day the convoy split in two - the thieves kissing their wives and children goodbye, and leaving all the cold-blooded dinosaurs behind. "They'd never survive the cold," said Herion, taking what he needed from his mount. The group of them were given clothing to survive - warm boots for everyone besides the Halfling, woolen sweaters and mittens, as well as cloaks and scarves.

The thieves were geared with a wide variety of weapons - everything from knives to bows to guns - but offered none to Cerederthan or the others. Then they set off up the mountain.

The way was sharp and steep, but not grueling - the path was worn from many feet, and the way was smooth or stepped for easy passage. But soon their way became covered in snow, and Gwen began to feel the effects of the thinner air. Herion handed out crudely-made goggles of brown or green glass to protect their eyes against the wind and harsh glare. One of the bandits pulled out a rope and tied their waists together, then handed out knives to everyone. He showed them what to do if one of them fell into a crevasse - how to stick their knives in the snow, dig in their feet, and try to pull them up. And thus they set off across a breathtaking landscape pitted with canyons.

No matter how clear the view was, the task at hand required constant attention. Twice one of the band fell into a crevasse, jolting them down into the snow, stopping Gwen's heart as they worked together to survive.

After two grueling days they reached the other side.

They trekked along the mountain range, using the well-worn trade route, moving past long-deserted villages, where the wind whistled around the crumbling houses. Wild sheep would obstruct their paths during the days, and the men kept wide-eyed watches at night for leopards.

Two weeks into their journey together, the wind was sending clouds scurrying around the mountains.  Cerederthan leaned over and whispered in Gwen's ear, "We're nearly there."

Then, like a crane flying through a cloud, the Monastary of Lorien rose above the mists, gleaming white in the sunlight. It clung to the mountainside, and its details grew ever more apparent as they drew nearer. They had to cross a valley on a bridge of rope, then another under the shadow of the monastery. A monk, dressed in robes of dark green, came out to meet them, arms open wide. "Greetings," he said.