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The Guardian, Chapter 4

In which we finally get a look inside Mildrithe’s head and what she’s thinking/feeling about her new elf friend. As a reminder, Haldir and Mildrithe have just arrived at the closest warden post, where he intends to deliver her to the capable hands of someone else who can get her the rest of the way to Caras Galadhon for help while he goes back to his post to resume his duties. Except he’s not feeling great about that plan anymore. Parts one, two and three are available if you want to catch up. And, because I will use it until the end of time, here is the beloved official artwork of this story, courtesy of the many talents of @brigwife

*****

Mildrithe followed Haldir up a thin rope ladder and into yet another tree. Before the last few days, she would have found this odd, but he seemed to consider trees a perfectly natural place to spend time. And she didn’t mind. Nothing had ever hurt her while in a tree, and she couldn’t say the same for being on the ground.

Like the tall beech where the two of them had spent the previous night, this tree also had a shelter built into its boughs, but the two structures couldn’t have been more different. While last night’s dwelling place was a stark, bare platform, this one had multiple levels spaced throughout the branches, and each contained stores of food and weapons, bedrolls, blankets, water cisterns and other accessories of daily living. And most significantly, this platform had other people on it–people who looked much like Haldir, tall and strong with golden or white-blonde hair and pointed ears. Ellath, he had called them.

Her arrival on the platform drew a lot of interest, and she shrank a little from all the eyes suddenly on her. Haldir spoke rapidly to these ellath, and she guessed from the sound of her own name that he was explaining to them who she was and how she came to be there, though there was much that he still didn’t know, that she kept locked away in the back corners of her own mind. But his words took the attention off of her, and she used the moment to surreptitiously observe his companions.

Rúmil she had met, and he seemed to be closest to Haldir both in appearance and in manner, but there were six others who crowded around as he spoke. She had the distinct sense that Haldir was in charge–the others showed clear deference to him–and she wondered for a moment if he was the king of his people. But, then, he didn’t act like any king she had heard of, not when he spent his time wandering alone in a forest, climbing in and out of trees and eating only whatever small scraps of food he carried on him.

Her eyes swept back over the new faces. She found them all fascinating to look at, both so similar to the men she knew and yet also undefinably different, and she was staring intently when the words of her mother suddenly rang in her ears. “No one likes to be gawked at, Mildrithe.” The memory of that admonishment sent both a hot blush to her cheeks and a wrenching pain to her chest. She worked so hard not to have those memories, but still they came, unbidden, to remind her of her old life. She sniffled a little in an attempt to keep control of herself, and though he didn’t look down or break from the conversation he was having, Haldir heard the sniffle and his hand found hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

After a lengthy discussion, the group dispersed, each member going on to some specific task. Rúmil brought her water and food–fresh fruit, honeycomb and nuts–which she accepted eagerly, having gone days with no food at all and then being confined only to what Haldir had available in his small pack. She dug in with enthusiasm, making a bit of a mess with the sticky honey, and for a time she thought of nothing but sating her own hunger. Halfway through her rations, however, the words of her mother once again sprang unexpectedly to her mind –“what’s ours is ours to share”—and the sting of remembrance did not stop her from turning obediently to look for Haldir, to ensure he had food of his own. He sat alone a short distance away, looking sorrowfully at a small white flower that he turned between his fingers. She recognized it right away as the niphredil flower she had given him the day before, and the unhappiness of his expression sent a warning chill through her. Something was wrong, but she had no idea what it could be.

As she picked at the remains of her food and tried not to brood on the meaning behind his sadness, the other wardens around him were busy stocking several packs in preparation for some kind of departure. Eventually a pack was handed to her, and she looked inside to find her own water canteen, some wrapped food, and a blanket. Any notion that they were going to stay here at this strange little tree camp faded quickly from her mind, and she was not surprised when Haldir and Rúmil gestured for her to follow them back to the ground just a few minutes later.

Rúmil and two others hoisted packs to their shoulders, and Haldir helped to secure hers to her back with several straps. She accepted the help but watched with rising concern as he made no move to lift his own pack or join the little group of travelers. The food she had just eaten suddenly felt like lead in her stomach, and she stared into the deep blue of his eyes, trying to force some kind of sign or acknowledgment that would quiet her fears and assure her that she was drawing the wrong conclusions from the activity around her. Instead, he looked away, and her concern edged toward panic.

When the others seemed ready to leave at last, a few final words were exchanged between Haldir and Rúmil, and then Haldir knelt down in front of her. He opened his mouth as though to speak but thought better of it and took her hand instead, holding it between both of his. When he released his grip, the niphredil blossom sat in her palm. He turned away quickly, rubbing a hand roughly across his chin, and went to stand by the ladder, looking down at the ground as Rúmil lightly gripped her elbow and tugged her into motion.

She staggered forward in unthinking compliance, but each time a foot struck the ground a voice in her head screamed at her to stop. Not to move even a single step further away from the one person she trusted. Tears welled up in her eyes and started to slide down her cheeks, and by the tenth step the voice in her head was so loud that she clutched at her own ears. It made no sense, even in her own mind, to be so attached to him already, but the feeling was undeniably there. He had shown her true kindness, the first person in her life for many months who didn’t want to scare her or hurt her or use her. He was awkward, but he was gentle. Her heart told her that he was safe. That he was good. And she absolutely didn’t want to be parted from him now in order to go on with total strangers.

She looked back over her shoulder in desperation, and when her eyes met Haldir's, a sob ripped through her. Her view of him blurred through her tears and she whimpered his name, but always she felt Rúmil’s hand on her arm, pulling her onward.

“Daro!”

The word exploded from Haldir’s lips and echoed in the trees. Rúmil dropped her elbow and came to a halt, and she used the freed arm to wipe a sleeve across her eyes. With some tears cleared away, she could see Haldir rushing forward, his pack in his hand. He spoke urgently to Rúmil, pointing both back in the direction they had come and forward in the direction they were headed. Rúmil interjected a few times, but before long he raised his hands in a gesture of concession and turned to head back to the tree camp. The other two wardens in the traveling group, Esgalorn and Mirdanion, exchanged looks with one another, brows raised. But neither said anything, and Haldir ignored them. He used the corner of his cloak to wipe the remaining tears from her face, took her hand, and started walking.

The immensity of her relief brought a whole new energy to her spirit. She felt that she could have easily sprinted the entire distance to wherever they were going, though, in fact, she had no idea where that was or how long it would take. But she hustled along at his side anyway, and whenever he glanced down at her, she beamed at him, eager to show just how glad she was to be with him. He always smiled back, but once his eyes were looking forward again the smile would fade. Something still seemed to weigh on his mind, and she reasoned that he was probably worrying about what would happen next, once they arrived wherever they were headed. She had been that way once, too—thinking about the future, making plans, trying to anticipate later problems or griefs—but not anymore. If the last year had taught her anything, it was that the future couldn’t be counted on. All she had was the present and how she felt in the here and now. And right now, at his side, was good. She wished she could tell him that.

The four of them traveled on for the rest of the day, Haldir and Mildrithe together in front and Mirdanion and Esgalorn following behind, keeping up a steady patter of conversation between them. The sound of their words faded into background noise to Mildrithe, and she focused only on what was immediately in front of her. She hopped in and out of the dappled shadows cast on the ground by the swaying, leafy branches above and tracked the sun as it worked its way across the sky. Eventually twilight settled on the forest, the first bright stars appearing in the purplish-blue overhead, and Mildrithe had just begun to wonder whether they were going to spend the night at another makeshift camp when Haldir pointed to faint, twinkling lights on the horizon. Some large city or settlement lay ahead, just across a narrow moat and behind a large, circular wall of green earth. They soon picked up a path that skirted along the wall and at last reached a set of great silver gates. Inside was a city unlike anything Mildrithe had ever imagined.

Caras Galadhon was filled with immense golden-leaved trees, each with a silvery smooth trunk, and the entire city was built into their canopy. White ladders led into many of the trees while others had wooden staircases that wound around the trunks and up into the highest boughs. Lanterns bobbed in the branches, throwing out little golden halos of light, and in this glow could be seen people moving to and fro—tall, graceful people, more of the ellath that Mildrithe was now growing used to seeing. But even as elves were becoming a normal presence in her life, their city took her breath away, and she stopped in her tracks to gape about her. Her mind rushed to catalog beautiful details, to automatically store them away so that she could later describe even a fraction of the magic of this place to her unbelieving family back home, and only the painfully sharp self-correction that she would never have that chance was enough to break the spell of her awe and amazement. She dug her fingernails into her palm, pushing until the stinging in her hand drew her mind away from the feelings and memories that had begun to seep back into her thoughts, and then she hurried after Haldir toward a hill where the largest tree she had ever seen sat like a crown atop the slope.

Someone dressed all in white came down a set of stairs from the tree, moving so smoothly and calmly he almost appeared to float. Esgalorn and Mirdanion bowed, and she noted that even Haldir gave this new figure deep respect. He was clearly someone of importance in the city, perhaps their leader, and so when Haldir gestured for her to come forward, she also bowed. This seemed to amuse the leader, and she hoped that was a good sign, an indication that she would be viewed with favor. He bent down and took a long, slow look at her, and though the scrutiny made her uncomfortable, she didn’t feel that his eyes had any hostility in them. He seemed rather to be gathering information, able to discern far more about her from just his penetrating gaze than she could ever determine from merely looking back at him. She shifted nervously on her feet until he stood at last and turned back to Haldir. A short, low conversation between them followed, and when some point of agreement seemed to be reached, he nodded to Haldir and to her before reascending the stairs, gliding off out of sight.

Hadir dismissed Esgalorn and Mirdanion, who turned off in another direction, and then led Mildrithe down a series of curved paths away from the center of the city. It had by now grown dark, but the pathways and trees were well lit and Haldir seemed certain of his route. She assumed they were headed to a place where they could rest for the night, and their surroundings did get quieter and less crowded as they went. At last, he stopped at the foot of a curved staircase that led up into yet another tree dwelling. He patted a hand against his chest and pointed up the stairs, repeating the gesture several times until he seemed confident that she understood. “Mine,” was her interpretation, and as she followed him up the stairs, she felt a wave of excited curiosity at the idea of seeing his home, the private space where he would be most himself.

The sound of her little boots clomping on the stair treads reverberated in the trees, and soon a curious face appeared at a railing above, drawn by the unexpected noise. A woman peered down at them, and when she saw Haldir on the landing she gave a small gasp and began to run toward him, holding up the hem of her dress so that she could race down the stairs at maximum speed. She had the same elegant beauty and pointed ears as everyone else in the city, though her hair and eyes were both a rich dark brown, and her face was lit up by a wide, brilliant smile. Haldir dropped his pack in just enough time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms, and he spun her around, laughing and smiling with a joyful ease that Mildrithe had never seen from him. She watched their affectionate reunion with unabashed fascination, and her questions about who this woman could be were soon answered when they shared a deep, loving kiss. An inadvertent giggle popped out of Mildrithe’s mouth at the sight of that kiss, and the couple quickly separated, blushing but still smiling at one another.

Haldir rushed through a bunch of words, gesturing repeatedly at Mildrithe, who stood up extra straight and smoothed a hand quickly over her hair and down the front of her dress. If this woman was important to Haldir, then she was important to Mildrithe, and she wanted to make the best possible first impression. At last, he spoke Mildrithe’s name and then pointed to the woman. “Idhrien,” he said slowly and clearly, a hand on his wife’s arm. Mildrithe smiled at her and proudly repeated the words of greeting she had heard at the forest post. “Mae govannen, Idhrien.”

Idhrien stooped down in front of her until she was at Mildrithe’s eye level, and returned the smile. “Westu Mildrithe hal,” she said, and Mildrithe’s heart cracked open in her chest.

She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had heard her own language, since she had even that most basic comfort of being able to understand what was being said around her and about her. Over time, her awareness of the loss had dulled, but just to hear those few short words now brought back a feeling of warmth and familiarity that she had desperately missed. She would have wept with gratitude if she wasn’t also so eager to speak and to listen now that she finally could.

“How…how do you know those words?”

“My brother was a great lover of languages,” said Idhrien, “and he spent a fair amount of time traveling in your land and learning what he could. He then taught it to me so that he would have someone to practice with when he was home in Lórien.”

“Lórien?”

“That’s where you are. Haldir found you on our borders and brought you here to our chief city. He tells me that you’ve made a very long journey and that you’ve been a very brave girl. He’s proud of you.”

Mildrithe blushed with pleasure at the compliment and looked up at him, watching attentively from his wife’s side. “I want to thank him, but I don’t know how.”

Idhrien smiled again. “Don’t worry. He already knows.”

She stood and gestured for Mildrithe to follow, and they went the rest of the way up the stairs. Once inside their home, they gave her more food and water and a comfortable place to sit with soft cushions and a warm blanket. Idhrien offered her the chance to rest or to take a bath, but there was nothing Mildrithe wanted to do more than to talk—or, more precisely, to ask questions. She had a steady stream of them, about Lórien and elves, about living in a tree, about Haldir and what a marchwarden does, and Idhrien patiently answered them all, taking time to translate for Haldir as she went.

These were all things Mildrithe wanted to know, but they were also safe questions, about other things and other people. She studiously avoided any question about what might be planned for her—where she would go, who she would be with—because she wasn’t at all sure she would like the answer. But eventually, Idhrien seemed to notice the evasion, and she gently curtailed Mildrithe’s questions with one of her own.

“Would you like to know what’s going to happen now that you’re here?”

Mildrithe hugged a pillow to her chest, torn about how to answer. She didn’t want to say yes, but neither did she think she could say no. She settled instead on a vague, non-committal hummed noise.

“Right now, you’ll stay here with us until the Lord and Lady decide what’s to be done. You have nothing to fear from them; they’re good and kind people. Haldir has told Lord Celeborn what he knows, but they will surely have more questions about where you’re from and where you belong. Can you tell us about your home? Your family?”

Mildrithe’s initial joy at being allowed to stay with Haldir and Idhrien was replaced immediately by a heavy anxiety that flooded into her chest. To even think about her home and family was to break her own cardinal rule, and to talk about them with others—to say the words out loud and thereby make those words real—was unthinkable. Her little face grew hot, and she bunched up her skirt in her fists.

“Mildrithe? Are you alright?”

Idhrien was looking at her with real concern, but that only intensified Mildrithe’s distress. The last thing she wanted to do was to disappoint or upset them, but she had never told this story to anyone else. And she was terrified to do it now.

Haldir reached across to take Mildrithe’s hand, and he spoke to her directly for several moments. When he was done, he nodded at Idhrien.

“He says that he understands that you’re afraid, but he promises to keep you safe. He was honored to have your trust when you were together in the forest, and he hopes that you will honor him again by continuing to trust him now.”

Mildrithe looked from his hand up to his steady, calm eyes. The same eyes that had found her when she was lost. Watched over her while she slept. Noticed when she was hungry or thirsty or in pain. He had protected her at every turn, and he had offered her comfort and affection when even she could recognize that it wasn’t always easy for him to show his feelings. A realization slowly dawned on her–if she couldn’t share this pain with someone like him, someone who had shown her so much care, then she might never be able to share it with anyone. And the prospect of carrying it alone, perhaps for all the days of her life, suddenly felt much more terrifying than facing it together with him now.

She stood and inched hesitantly toward him, and he understood her intention right away, lifting her up to sit on his lap. She leaned her cheek against his chest, and for a time all three of them sat in silence, with only their quiet breathing and the soft beating of Haldir’s heart in her ear. And just when he began to wonder whether she had perhaps drifted off to sleep, she opened her mouth and began her story.

*****

Notes: “Daro” means “stop”/“halt”.

Idhrien (which means “thoughtful”) started life as a reader character in my Haldir story Three Weeks on the Nimrodel. She’s the same person here, just with a name. She’s a city warden in Caras Galadhon, though she and Haldir met and fell in love when she was posted temporarily to the border and found a way past his natural reserve and introversion by respecting it and making him feel at ease as himself. Even in that story, she had a brother that traveled in Rohan and taught her Rohirric, so that worked out well here, too!

I don’t have a super clear idea of where the next chapter is going, so it may take me a while. Just FYI.

#lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #haldir #mildrithe #sweet reserved guys with the little girls who melt their hearts

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