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curiouswombatBeloved husband has broken off from writing to beta this chapter for me - he shows his love in practical ways!
At the end of Chapter 14 our intrepid pair thought they might be approaching the Westernmost Sea. But then they crested a ridge and realised that in front of them were... Trees.
Many, many trees.
Most definitely not sea.
Now onto
Chapter 15, Where The Wild Things Are
Rated PG
Word Count 3,400
Beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
speakr2customrs
Disclaimer as Chapter One.
Previous chapters are here.
Chapter Fifteen -Where The Wild Things Are
As the horses picked their way carefully down to the snowline and beyond it, across stony ridges and upland moor, they saw hares, goats, mountain sheep, and then deer and plump grouse. Above them flew falcons and buzzards, ravens and, seen clearly only by Haldir, eagles. The grass was short and coarse, interspersed with heather and gorse, when they first reached it but then came bilberries, and Tindómë spotted plants that looked as if the sheep had shed wool in even tufts – wild cotton, or something very like it!
It took them two days, since that first glimpse of forest from high above, before they came over a ridge and there were trees growing up the valleys towards them. Still high enough up to see for many miles; it was clear that they were, most definitely, nowhere near the sea.
‘M’kay… Why am I not surprised?’ thought Tindómë. ‘Oh yeah – ‘cos nothing on this road trip is exactly as predicted – that’s why!’
Gazing down on vast woodlands the two simply stood for a time.
“Elo!” Tindómë said, eventually. “I think it would take more than a day or two to cross this forest. Can you see what is beyond it?”
“Perhaps, in the far distance, is another range of mountains – the sun seems to glint off something, and I think it is snow, rather than sea…”
“How about north and south?”
“I really cannot tell. There is doubtless an end to the forest eventually, but there are hills within the forest that make it difficult… although I am sure I can make out a lake or two amongst the trees.” Haldir paused and continued to simply gaze.
“To the south,” he said after a while, “the sun on the trees is reflected with a golden light. I think there may well be mellyrn. An elf could be very happy here.”
Thinking of the Great Greenwood, of Lothlorien, and even Eryn Ithil, Tindómë could only agree with him. Almost all the elves she knew well would be very, very, happy here.
They descended until they were below the canopy in a forest that was truly worth of the name. It teemed with signs of life; reptiles and amphibians where there was water, insects and birds in the air, and signs of mammals both large and small.
They began to move more or less westwards past trees of many varieties; glades surrounded by oak and beech; streams edged in willow, ash, and alder; drifts of conifers, both large and small; and tall majestic trees that Haldir did not know but Tindómë identified, with great pleasure, as redwoods. They followed meandering paths made not by elves, but by deer, badgers, wild boar… and frequently they stopped to simply breathe in the forest air and smile.
When they had crossed the smaller area of forest, before Tindómë’s accident, she had been vaguely aware of the song of the trees, but it was not even as clear to her as it had been in Eryn Ithil. But here… here Tindómë could hear the song of the trees as a bass hum that vibrated deep within her very fëa; she could feel, too, higher, lighter notes, and sometimes a sharper, almost metallic sensation, as if there was someone playing the glockenspiel at the very edge of hearing; she realised this came from limes and poplars. If it was like walking accompanied by a choir for her, then for Haldir, she realised, it must be much stronger. No wonder he seemed distracted, almost intoxicated.
She asked him.
“Although I am not quite an elf,” she began, “I can feel this forest’s heartbeat within me. I hear the song of the trees. It reminds me of Fangorn – almost as old as time. How loudly does it sing for you?”
He looked at her for long moments before answering. “I can hardly concentrate, to be honest. It is as if thousands of voices are calling to me at the same time to notice them, and I hardly know which way to turn. I want to walk amongst them barefoot – nay, naked even. I want to dance…”
“Why not?” she answered. “As you have said to me, there is plenty of time.”
They were in a natural clearing some hundred or more feet across. Grass, clover, thyme and pennyroyal was dotted with daisies and other small scented flowers to form a thick carpet.
Haldir seemed to consider for a minute and then he smiled, and kicked off his boots, before, as she had expected, tending the horses and removing both tack and baggage.
Within minutes he stood in nothing but leggings as he reached to his hair, removed all the fastenings, and shook it free. Tindómë began to strip as well until all she wore was her binding ring and a smile.
She looked pointedly at her companions leggings and was genuinely amused with his answer to the unasked question.
“If I get too absorbed in the rhythm and the songs of the forest my cristhen bouncing freely would look… silly! But should the song cause my own sap to rise, and my cristhen become erect, then you might worry that I could ask of you something you would not wish to give.”
“Haldir,” she answered, trying not to giggle, “just let it all hang out! If your bits bounce I will try not to laugh, and even if you feel the need to ease yourself by rubbing your cristhen against a sweet-singing and accommodating tree I promise I will not be shocked!”
“Well then,” he said, undoing his lacings, “let us dance.”
…………………………………………
At first each simply twirled and stepped alone, but then it was obvious that they followed the same rhythm, and slowly they danced closer and closer together. Their movements came naturally until they took each other’s hand, danced side by side, towards, away – and Tindómë realised, after a few minutes of total immersion in the song of the forest, that they were following the steps of an almost stately dance that she had learnt in her early days in Caras Galadhon.
They danced on. She had no idea how long they continued but, eventually, she realised that they were no longer dancing alone. The glade was filled with butterflies, the song enhanced by the voices of small birds and, out of the corner of her eye, Tindómë could have sworn she saw another figure – perhaps an elleth?
She turned her head to see better; there was no-one there, but she thought she heard a female voice just for an instant; a tiny snatch of pleasurable laughter. And at that instant she knew that the dance was ending. She turned to curtsey to Haldir and found him beginning to bow to her. They nodded acknowledgment and, as if at a grand ball, he held her hand lightly and walked her to where her clothes lay.
The butterflies slowly dispersed, the songbirds too, and the ensuing calm was finally broken by the happy whinny of Tindómë’s horse as he rolled on his back on the grass.
Tindómë felt almost as if she was waking up; she looked at Haldir and he was shaking his head as if to clear his mind, too.
“Know what?” she said. “I never even noticed whether your cristhen was dangling, swinging, or standing so straight it was bouncing off your belly with every step!”
“And I,” he answered solemnly, “have no intention of enlightening you…”
…………………………………………
They kept watch at night, not just from habit but because there were clearly large animals in this forest, but they were not troubled. They ate well, and could have eaten better still were it not wasteful to hunt anything that would have provided for more than the two of them.
Then, on the fourth day since they had entered the forest, they heard sounds that, perhaps, both had thought possible but neither had mentioned.
A horn, the sound of hounds… and in an instant they were surrounded by horses and riders milling around them, circling and weaving.
It was difficult to know how many horses and riders, how large a pack of hounds – at first they seemed as if they were only substantial if you were looking straight at them, and not completely solid at the edges of vision. Then a very clear, very solid, figure riding a magnificent, midnight black, stallion stopped in front of them and addressed them by name.
“Haldir Thorontorion, Tindómë, come, ride with us!”
Haldir spoke first. “I am most honoured, my Lord Oromë, but I do not know that my steed would be able to keep up.”
“Come! Your horse will have no difficulty if he rides in my hunt!”
A grin split Haldir’s face almost in two for an instant and then he and his horse were swallowed into the ranks of what Tindómë could only assume were mounted Maia, or maybe there was an elf or two mixed in; she really couldn’t say.
“And you, Tindómë, come and join us!”
Uh-huh…
“I am most honoured,” she said, echoing Haldir, “but even though you have reassured us that our horses can easily keep up with your hunt, to be honest my own riding skills certainly wouldn’t!”
The great golden-haired figure looked hard at her for a second or two, before giving the slightest of nods, and she found that another figure, with the inner glow that was an integral part of all of the Valar she’d seen, had his horse pressed almost to her own.
“Then ride with me!” he exclaimed. “I am Tulkas and there is, most certainly, room on my horse for two!”
Tindómë had one of those weird flashback moments where a memory that could surely not be hers, nor even copied from Buffy, came to her. For a split second the figure of Tulkas, whose thick black hair was held in a single braid but seemed to have escaped in places and clearly had a tendency to curl, looked to have short curly hair and a beard, and she wished she knew who in all Arda Rolf Harris was. Presumably it was one of those memories of their own that the monks had used to fill odd spaces of her brain when they recreated her from The Key!
Tulkas stretched out an arm and Tindómë found herself being lifted over onto his horse as if she was an elfling. Her own horse disappeared into the throng and she hoped, briefly, that someone would make sure he didn’t lose the panniers thrown across his rump, or she would be very short of clean clothing for the rest of her journey. And then there was no time for further thought.
Tulkas’ horse lunged forward and the Wild Hunt had begun. They sped through the trees, occasionally swerving to avoid obstacles, at other times jumping fallen trunks, and over brooks and small ravines. The wind rushed by, all around her, and the baying of the hounds was carried back to where they rode in the middle of the throng.
On a couple of occasions Tindómë screamed as the horse gathered itself for a jump and, the second time, Tulkas spoke with his mouth close to her ear.
“Are you frightened? There is no need. I would not let you come to harm.”
“No! No,” she answered, “more exhilarated.”
“Good,” said the Vala. “I had not thought you to be other than brave, knowing how you came to return to us here from the other dimension.”
“Uh – thanks.” It seemed a bit of an inadequate answer, but conversation was difficult.
As if he had heard her thought, which he probably had, Tulkas’ voice came into her head.
“Use ósanwe, little one.”
“M’kay,” she answered silently.
For a second she thought how much Tulkas reminded her of the El twins, and remembered speaking this way with Elrohir for the very first time whilst riding in front of him.
“I hope to meet them, some day,” said Tulkas’ voice inside her head.
The Valar, she remembered, could oh so easily pick up thoughts you weren’t aiming at them.
“I so hope you do, too,” she answered.
And then conversation became a mixture of full sentences, hardly worded thoughts, and vivid images.
“… my wife saw you in the Máhanaxar and I was pleased to get this chance to spend some time with you. We all wanted to meet you there, but Manwë thought it would be too overwhelming… My brother Aulë made the whole people of the dwarves – but the rest of us had a hand only in making The Key; and I wanted to see who our Key had been remade into!”
Well that was a way of looking at things that Tindómë had never considered.
“…wife… enjoyed your dance…”
Ah – that fleeting female figure must have been Nessa. And, of course, she was Lord Oromë’s sister – no wonder Tulkas rode with the hunt…
Agreement.
“Why does there seem to be so much more land than the ellon at Her Ladyship’s told us there was?”
There were suddenly pictures in her mind of mountains, plains, forests, lakes…
“There is land enough to keep as many who wish exploring for yéni to come. These are the lands that were always intended for those who did not at first accompany us… There is land enough for Sindar, Sylvan, and any Noldor who wish to adventure as they return from my brother Namo’s care… they may do well in the first lands you rode through – we shall see.”
“But why wasn’t it there before? How did that ellon…”
“The ellon you spoke with did not need to know about these lands and so they were not obvious when he travelled this way. Which was, perhaps, five yéni past…”
“Not obvious? Why? How?”
A mental image of Tulkas placing a fold in his cloak, then a similar fold much further down, and then holding the two folds together so that the fabric between was no longer visible – the image of a small horse making his way across it; up one side of the first fold, a tiny dip where the folds met, and down the other fold – with yards of fabric not noticed!
“And we have been… rearranging… a little, to open these lands for you to find them…”
“You mean with the earth tremor, and the blood/Key thing?”
A mental smile. Actually, if he had been an elf it would have classed as a mental smirk. Maybe it still did…
“Rearrangement did create a few tremors…”
“And the blood; a portal?”
“It was not exactly a portal – the valley was ready to be cleaved open. But it did impress your husband-brother and gave him a better understanding of what his own brothers had tried to tell him about you, little one.”
“Yeah – but did you really have to throw a rock at me like that?”
Sense of embarrassment.
“That was a genuine accident. The Maia who was close by was unable to stop it…”
So, yeah, her thoughts of a Maian escort were confirmed.
“We simply took advantage of the situation…”
“Could you not have just opened the whole area up for the latecomers without Haldir and me doing the Valinor Trail? Without the earth tremors and the upstream blood thing and whatever else you have up your sleeves?”
A pause. Then a thought that brought Lord Celeborn to her mind as clearly as if she was riding with him, rather than one of the Valar.
“But… where would be the fun in that?”
…………………………………………
Tindómë did not know for how long they rode, or how far. She wondered what they were even hunting. An image… stags, a great wild boar…
Somewhere along the way she found images in her mind as if she was flying over the land, seeing rivers running northwards across plains, through pine forests, into lakes so great it was hard to see the other sides. Then it was as if they wheeled around, and now they flew over other rivers running south through forests, then through gently rolling hills with swathes of flowers, sheltered bowers amongst trees… Lorién. These rivers flowed on south, further through land that looked almost like jungle, until they finally ran into a green-blue sea…
Another fleeting question from earlier days was also answered… she saw buffalo roaming a northern plain. And then, suddenly, she was back in the here and now, wherever here was, and whenever now was.
Horns were sounding, hounds were baying – and Tulkas reined their mount in to a halt.
“Come, little one,” he said out loud. “The hunt is over, the kill made… Now we eat!”
Looking around Tindómë saw they were in a large clearing that sloped down to one of those rivers. All around her figures were moving, horses making their way to drink at the river, hounds doing likewise. People (for she had no idea whether they were Elves, Maiar, Valar…) were setting a fire, and Oromë himself was supervising the butchering of a boar bigger than any Tindómë had ever seen.
She did not, immediately, see Haldir until he approached her. For an elf, especially one of the Galadhrim, he was almost dishevelled. Well, slightly tousled, anyway. Some of his hair had escaped its braids, there was a slight sheen of perspiration on his face, and damp patches on his leggings showed his horse had sweated even more.
“We are going to bathe before they start to roast the boar; come!”
“We?”
He waved his arm in a wide sweep encompassing many of the figures in the glade.
“Me, our… companions, you, unless you choose otherwise.”
Tindómë realised her own hair was no longer in its one tight braid but clung in damp tendrils to her face, that she could feel sweat trickling down between her shoulder-blades… yeah, bathing was probably good if she wasn’t going to eventually turn up at the doors to the Halls of Mandos in a very smelly state.
So she followed her husband-brother to the wide river and considered, as she stripped, why Valar and Maiar would bother to bathe as they could simply shuck off the fana they wore and just reconstitute them again all bright and shiny.
“For the pleasure of feeling the water and then the sunshine,” said a feminine voice.
Tindómë turned to see what at first seemed to be an elleth, just a few inches taller than herself, but the inner glow gave her nature away.
She was about to bob a quick curtsy, thinking how silly it probably looked naked, when the Vala introduced herself.
“I am Nessa. I thought you might be glad of female company in such a very male gathering. And,” suddenly she smiled the smile of a fellow-conspirator, “I get to see how you are faring, feel the flowing water, enjoy the meal and get to admire the hröa of your husband-brother again!”
“Elo! You mind if I don’t tell him that? He is pretty proud of himself to start with – knowing one of the Valar is ogling his physique is totally going to make him big-headed.”
Nessa simply smiled and then looked downstream to where Haldir had just walked into the water.
“Feel free to tell your husband,” came Nessa’s mental voice, “for I can see that you think he would be amused, and that he has an equally beautiful hröa that gives you both much pleasure.”
There was no point in worrying about any of the Valar rummaging around your brain, Tindómë thought, even though Varda had asked permission back in the Máhanaxar. Especially this Vala and her husband. So, instead, she consciously pictured Rumil’s naked body lying on their bed with his hands tied to the bed-head, whilst Tindómë slowly lowered herself onto his grond.
“Mmm,” Nessa said, as she ducked beneath the water, “I like that, too…”
Tindómë’s luggage had clearly survived – clean clothes awaited her when she left the water, and for the next few hours she, and Haldir, sat amongst the other members of the Wild Hunt, listened to stories, ate crisp roast boar, and sang.
She felt her eyes grow heavy, and Tulkas’ voice said “Sleep, little one, you are safe here.”
She knew no more until she woke in the grey light of morning, Haldir just stirring from where he slept a few feet away, in an empty glade.
…………………………………………………………………….
Ósanwe = speech between minds.
Fana = bodily form of the Valar or Maiar – that they can, as Gandalf said to Tindómë in ‘Immigrants’, ‘put on and take off’.
Hröa – body – the solid body of an elf as opposed to ‘fana’.
As always feedback appreciated, and do point out any mistakes - even S2C is not infallible...
At the end of Chapter 14 our intrepid pair thought they might be approaching the Westernmost Sea. But then they crested a ridge and realised that in front of them were... Trees.
Many, many trees.
Most definitely not sea.
Now onto
Chapter 15, Where The Wild Things Are
Rated PG
Word Count 3,400
Beta
speakr2customrsDisclaimer as Chapter One.
Previous chapters are here.
As the horses picked their way carefully down to the snowline and beyond it, across stony ridges and upland moor, they saw hares, goats, mountain sheep, and then deer and plump grouse. Above them flew falcons and buzzards, ravens and, seen clearly only by Haldir, eagles. The grass was short and coarse, interspersed with heather and gorse, when they first reached it but then came bilberries, and Tindómë spotted plants that looked as if the sheep had shed wool in even tufts – wild cotton, or something very like it!
It took them two days, since that first glimpse of forest from high above, before they came over a ridge and there were trees growing up the valleys towards them. Still high enough up to see for many miles; it was clear that they were, most definitely, nowhere near the sea.
‘M’kay… Why am I not surprised?’ thought Tindómë. ‘Oh yeah – ‘cos nothing on this road trip is exactly as predicted – that’s why!’
Gazing down on vast woodlands the two simply stood for a time.
“Elo!” Tindómë said, eventually. “I think it would take more than a day or two to cross this forest. Can you see what is beyond it?”
“Perhaps, in the far distance, is another range of mountains – the sun seems to glint off something, and I think it is snow, rather than sea…”
“How about north and south?”
“I really cannot tell. There is doubtless an end to the forest eventually, but there are hills within the forest that make it difficult… although I am sure I can make out a lake or two amongst the trees.” Haldir paused and continued to simply gaze.
“To the south,” he said after a while, “the sun on the trees is reflected with a golden light. I think there may well be mellyrn. An elf could be very happy here.”
Thinking of the Great Greenwood, of Lothlorien, and even Eryn Ithil, Tindómë could only agree with him. Almost all the elves she knew well would be very, very, happy here.
They descended until they were below the canopy in a forest that was truly worth of the name. It teemed with signs of life; reptiles and amphibians where there was water, insects and birds in the air, and signs of mammals both large and small.
They began to move more or less westwards past trees of many varieties; glades surrounded by oak and beech; streams edged in willow, ash, and alder; drifts of conifers, both large and small; and tall majestic trees that Haldir did not know but Tindómë identified, with great pleasure, as redwoods. They followed meandering paths made not by elves, but by deer, badgers, wild boar… and frequently they stopped to simply breathe in the forest air and smile.
When they had crossed the smaller area of forest, before Tindómë’s accident, she had been vaguely aware of the song of the trees, but it was not even as clear to her as it had been in Eryn Ithil. But here… here Tindómë could hear the song of the trees as a bass hum that vibrated deep within her very fëa; she could feel, too, higher, lighter notes, and sometimes a sharper, almost metallic sensation, as if there was someone playing the glockenspiel at the very edge of hearing; she realised this came from limes and poplars. If it was like walking accompanied by a choir for her, then for Haldir, she realised, it must be much stronger. No wonder he seemed distracted, almost intoxicated.
She asked him.
“Although I am not quite an elf,” she began, “I can feel this forest’s heartbeat within me. I hear the song of the trees. It reminds me of Fangorn – almost as old as time. How loudly does it sing for you?”
He looked at her for long moments before answering. “I can hardly concentrate, to be honest. It is as if thousands of voices are calling to me at the same time to notice them, and I hardly know which way to turn. I want to walk amongst them barefoot – nay, naked even. I want to dance…”
“Why not?” she answered. “As you have said to me, there is plenty of time.”
They were in a natural clearing some hundred or more feet across. Grass, clover, thyme and pennyroyal was dotted with daisies and other small scented flowers to form a thick carpet.
Haldir seemed to consider for a minute and then he smiled, and kicked off his boots, before, as she had expected, tending the horses and removing both tack and baggage.
Within minutes he stood in nothing but leggings as he reached to his hair, removed all the fastenings, and shook it free. Tindómë began to strip as well until all she wore was her binding ring and a smile.
She looked pointedly at her companions leggings and was genuinely amused with his answer to the unasked question.
“If I get too absorbed in the rhythm and the songs of the forest my cristhen bouncing freely would look… silly! But should the song cause my own sap to rise, and my cristhen become erect, then you might worry that I could ask of you something you would not wish to give.”
“Haldir,” she answered, trying not to giggle, “just let it all hang out! If your bits bounce I will try not to laugh, and even if you feel the need to ease yourself by rubbing your cristhen against a sweet-singing and accommodating tree I promise I will not be shocked!”
“Well then,” he said, undoing his lacings, “let us dance.”
…………………………………………
At first each simply twirled and stepped alone, but then it was obvious that they followed the same rhythm, and slowly they danced closer and closer together. Their movements came naturally until they took each other’s hand, danced side by side, towards, away – and Tindómë realised, after a few minutes of total immersion in the song of the forest, that they were following the steps of an almost stately dance that she had learnt in her early days in Caras Galadhon.
They danced on. She had no idea how long they continued but, eventually, she realised that they were no longer dancing alone. The glade was filled with butterflies, the song enhanced by the voices of small birds and, out of the corner of her eye, Tindómë could have sworn she saw another figure – perhaps an elleth?
She turned her head to see better; there was no-one there, but she thought she heard a female voice just for an instant; a tiny snatch of pleasurable laughter. And at that instant she knew that the dance was ending. She turned to curtsey to Haldir and found him beginning to bow to her. They nodded acknowledgment and, as if at a grand ball, he held her hand lightly and walked her to where her clothes lay.
The butterflies slowly dispersed, the songbirds too, and the ensuing calm was finally broken by the happy whinny of Tindómë’s horse as he rolled on his back on the grass.
Tindómë felt almost as if she was waking up; she looked at Haldir and he was shaking his head as if to clear his mind, too.
“Know what?” she said. “I never even noticed whether your cristhen was dangling, swinging, or standing so straight it was bouncing off your belly with every step!”
“And I,” he answered solemnly, “have no intention of enlightening you…”
…………………………………………
They kept watch at night, not just from habit but because there were clearly large animals in this forest, but they were not troubled. They ate well, and could have eaten better still were it not wasteful to hunt anything that would have provided for more than the two of them.
Then, on the fourth day since they had entered the forest, they heard sounds that, perhaps, both had thought possible but neither had mentioned.
A horn, the sound of hounds… and in an instant they were surrounded by horses and riders milling around them, circling and weaving.
It was difficult to know how many horses and riders, how large a pack of hounds – at first they seemed as if they were only substantial if you were looking straight at them, and not completely solid at the edges of vision. Then a very clear, very solid, figure riding a magnificent, midnight black, stallion stopped in front of them and addressed them by name.
“Haldir Thorontorion, Tindómë, come, ride with us!”
Haldir spoke first. “I am most honoured, my Lord Oromë, but I do not know that my steed would be able to keep up.”
“Come! Your horse will have no difficulty if he rides in my hunt!”
A grin split Haldir’s face almost in two for an instant and then he and his horse were swallowed into the ranks of what Tindómë could only assume were mounted Maia, or maybe there was an elf or two mixed in; she really couldn’t say.
“And you, Tindómë, come and join us!”
Uh-huh…
“I am most honoured,” she said, echoing Haldir, “but even though you have reassured us that our horses can easily keep up with your hunt, to be honest my own riding skills certainly wouldn’t!”
The great golden-haired figure looked hard at her for a second or two, before giving the slightest of nods, and she found that another figure, with the inner glow that was an integral part of all of the Valar she’d seen, had his horse pressed almost to her own.
“Then ride with me!” he exclaimed. “I am Tulkas and there is, most certainly, room on my horse for two!”
Tindómë had one of those weird flashback moments where a memory that could surely not be hers, nor even copied from Buffy, came to her. For a split second the figure of Tulkas, whose thick black hair was held in a single braid but seemed to have escaped in places and clearly had a tendency to curl, looked to have short curly hair and a beard, and she wished she knew who in all Arda Rolf Harris was. Presumably it was one of those memories of their own that the monks had used to fill odd spaces of her brain when they recreated her from The Key!
Tulkas stretched out an arm and Tindómë found herself being lifted over onto his horse as if she was an elfling. Her own horse disappeared into the throng and she hoped, briefly, that someone would make sure he didn’t lose the panniers thrown across his rump, or she would be very short of clean clothing for the rest of her journey. And then there was no time for further thought.
Tulkas’ horse lunged forward and the Wild Hunt had begun. They sped through the trees, occasionally swerving to avoid obstacles, at other times jumping fallen trunks, and over brooks and small ravines. The wind rushed by, all around her, and the baying of the hounds was carried back to where they rode in the middle of the throng.
On a couple of occasions Tindómë screamed as the horse gathered itself for a jump and, the second time, Tulkas spoke with his mouth close to her ear.
“Are you frightened? There is no need. I would not let you come to harm.”
“No! No,” she answered, “more exhilarated.”
“Good,” said the Vala. “I had not thought you to be other than brave, knowing how you came to return to us here from the other dimension.”
“Uh – thanks.” It seemed a bit of an inadequate answer, but conversation was difficult.
As if he had heard her thought, which he probably had, Tulkas’ voice came into her head.
“Use ósanwe, little one.”
“M’kay,” she answered silently.
For a second she thought how much Tulkas reminded her of the El twins, and remembered speaking this way with Elrohir for the very first time whilst riding in front of him.
“I hope to meet them, some day,” said Tulkas’ voice inside her head.
The Valar, she remembered, could oh so easily pick up thoughts you weren’t aiming at them.
“I so hope you do, too,” she answered.
And then conversation became a mixture of full sentences, hardly worded thoughts, and vivid images.
“… my wife saw you in the Máhanaxar and I was pleased to get this chance to spend some time with you. We all wanted to meet you there, but Manwë thought it would be too overwhelming… My brother Aulë made the whole people of the dwarves – but the rest of us had a hand only in making The Key; and I wanted to see who our Key had been remade into!”
Well that was a way of looking at things that Tindómë had never considered.
“…wife… enjoyed your dance…”
Ah – that fleeting female figure must have been Nessa. And, of course, she was Lord Oromë’s sister – no wonder Tulkas rode with the hunt…
Agreement.
“Why does there seem to be so much more land than the ellon at Her Ladyship’s told us there was?”
There were suddenly pictures in her mind of mountains, plains, forests, lakes…
“There is land enough to keep as many who wish exploring for yéni to come. These are the lands that were always intended for those who did not at first accompany us… There is land enough for Sindar, Sylvan, and any Noldor who wish to adventure as they return from my brother Namo’s care… they may do well in the first lands you rode through – we shall see.”
“But why wasn’t it there before? How did that ellon…”
“The ellon you spoke with did not need to know about these lands and so they were not obvious when he travelled this way. Which was, perhaps, five yéni past…”
“Not obvious? Why? How?”
A mental image of Tulkas placing a fold in his cloak, then a similar fold much further down, and then holding the two folds together so that the fabric between was no longer visible – the image of a small horse making his way across it; up one side of the first fold, a tiny dip where the folds met, and down the other fold – with yards of fabric not noticed!
“And we have been… rearranging… a little, to open these lands for you to find them…”
“You mean with the earth tremor, and the blood/Key thing?”
A mental smile. Actually, if he had been an elf it would have classed as a mental smirk. Maybe it still did…
“Rearrangement did create a few tremors…”
“And the blood; a portal?”
“It was not exactly a portal – the valley was ready to be cleaved open. But it did impress your husband-brother and gave him a better understanding of what his own brothers had tried to tell him about you, little one.”
“Yeah – but did you really have to throw a rock at me like that?”
Sense of embarrassment.
“That was a genuine accident. The Maia who was close by was unable to stop it…”
So, yeah, her thoughts of a Maian escort were confirmed.
“We simply took advantage of the situation…”
“Could you not have just opened the whole area up for the latecomers without Haldir and me doing the Valinor Trail? Without the earth tremors and the upstream blood thing and whatever else you have up your sleeves?”
A pause. Then a thought that brought Lord Celeborn to her mind as clearly as if she was riding with him, rather than one of the Valar.
“But… where would be the fun in that?”
…………………………………………
Tindómë did not know for how long they rode, or how far. She wondered what they were even hunting. An image… stags, a great wild boar…
Somewhere along the way she found images in her mind as if she was flying over the land, seeing rivers running northwards across plains, through pine forests, into lakes so great it was hard to see the other sides. Then it was as if they wheeled around, and now they flew over other rivers running south through forests, then through gently rolling hills with swathes of flowers, sheltered bowers amongst trees… Lorién. These rivers flowed on south, further through land that looked almost like jungle, until they finally ran into a green-blue sea…
Another fleeting question from earlier days was also answered… she saw buffalo roaming a northern plain. And then, suddenly, she was back in the here and now, wherever here was, and whenever now was.
Horns were sounding, hounds were baying – and Tulkas reined their mount in to a halt.
“Come, little one,” he said out loud. “The hunt is over, the kill made… Now we eat!”
Looking around Tindómë saw they were in a large clearing that sloped down to one of those rivers. All around her figures were moving, horses making their way to drink at the river, hounds doing likewise. People (for she had no idea whether they were Elves, Maiar, Valar…) were setting a fire, and Oromë himself was supervising the butchering of a boar bigger than any Tindómë had ever seen.
She did not, immediately, see Haldir until he approached her. For an elf, especially one of the Galadhrim, he was almost dishevelled. Well, slightly tousled, anyway. Some of his hair had escaped its braids, there was a slight sheen of perspiration on his face, and damp patches on his leggings showed his horse had sweated even more.
“We are going to bathe before they start to roast the boar; come!”
“We?”
He waved his arm in a wide sweep encompassing many of the figures in the glade.
“Me, our… companions, you, unless you choose otherwise.”
Tindómë realised her own hair was no longer in its one tight braid but clung in damp tendrils to her face, that she could feel sweat trickling down between her shoulder-blades… yeah, bathing was probably good if she wasn’t going to eventually turn up at the doors to the Halls of Mandos in a very smelly state.
So she followed her husband-brother to the wide river and considered, as she stripped, why Valar and Maiar would bother to bathe as they could simply shuck off the fana they wore and just reconstitute them again all bright and shiny.
“For the pleasure of feeling the water and then the sunshine,” said a feminine voice.
Tindómë turned to see what at first seemed to be an elleth, just a few inches taller than herself, but the inner glow gave her nature away.
She was about to bob a quick curtsy, thinking how silly it probably looked naked, when the Vala introduced herself.
“I am Nessa. I thought you might be glad of female company in such a very male gathering. And,” suddenly she smiled the smile of a fellow-conspirator, “I get to see how you are faring, feel the flowing water, enjoy the meal and get to admire the hröa of your husband-brother again!”
“Elo! You mind if I don’t tell him that? He is pretty proud of himself to start with – knowing one of the Valar is ogling his physique is totally going to make him big-headed.”
Nessa simply smiled and then looked downstream to where Haldir had just walked into the water.
“Feel free to tell your husband,” came Nessa’s mental voice, “for I can see that you think he would be amused, and that he has an equally beautiful hröa that gives you both much pleasure.”
There was no point in worrying about any of the Valar rummaging around your brain, Tindómë thought, even though Varda had asked permission back in the Máhanaxar. Especially this Vala and her husband. So, instead, she consciously pictured Rumil’s naked body lying on their bed with his hands tied to the bed-head, whilst Tindómë slowly lowered herself onto his grond.
“Mmm,” Nessa said, as she ducked beneath the water, “I like that, too…”
Tindómë’s luggage had clearly survived – clean clothes awaited her when she left the water, and for the next few hours she, and Haldir, sat amongst the other members of the Wild Hunt, listened to stories, ate crisp roast boar, and sang.
She felt her eyes grow heavy, and Tulkas’ voice said “Sleep, little one, you are safe here.”
She knew no more until she woke in the grey light of morning, Haldir just stirring from where he slept a few feet away, in an empty glade.
…………………………………………………………………….
Ósanwe = speech between minds.
Fana = bodily form of the Valar or Maiar – that they can, as Gandalf said to Tindómë in ‘Immigrants’, ‘put on and take off’.
Hröa – body – the solid body of an elf as opposed to ‘fana’.
As always feedback appreciated, and do point out any mistakes - even S2C is not infallible...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 30/07/2013 04:07 am (UTC)Nessa is a very naughty Vala, I like her!
Huggs,
Lynda
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Date: 30/07/2013 07:19 am (UTC)Nessa is the Valar with a specialise area of dance who is married to the Valar known for skill in war - I decided she might not be entirely a delicate flower!!
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Date: 30/07/2013 02:38 pm (UTC)Huggs,
Lynda
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Date: 30/07/2013 09:43 pm (UTC)And yes - I don't see them as overly fragile, either!
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Date: 30/07/2013 10:14 pm (UTC)By the way the thought of Haldir's 'tackle' bouncing around had me smiling! I wouldn't have minded going on that Hunt either, but with a co rider and a very strong rocking horse, I not as spry as I was!(The spirit is willing but the flesh ain't what it used to be, donkey rides as a youngling don't exactly prepare one for Wild Hunts!)
Huggs,
Lynda
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Date: 31/07/2013 07:30 am (UTC)I'd have needed to have someone to hold onto very tightly if I had been on the hunt...
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Date: 30/07/2013 08:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 30/07/2013 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 30/07/2013 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 30/07/2013 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 30/07/2013 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 30/07/2013 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 31/07/2013 08:07 am (UTC)I like the way you've captured the surreality of the place, and I love the ending, with the hunt gone...
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Date: 31/07/2013 12:29 pm (UTC)It is one of the things people seem to ignore when they write... :)
I have always thought of Haldir being conscious of the need for dignity, at times, since right back when his brothers refused to attend Aragorn's coronation as representatives of the Galadhrim, but said that Haldir would have been good at it.
And so I thought the inherent risk of looking very undignified would have struck him the first time he ever saw another male dancing naked. Which I'm sure they must have, occasionally!
And thank you for noticing the gentle return to reality at the end.