Jealousy In Silver

Part Three

The bright light of afternoon was just starting to dim with approaching twilight when Lindir finally paused at a clear flowing brook. He knelt before it, intending to drink the cool water. His tears had long since stopped flowing; however his heart still felt weighed down by fear and uncertainty. In his wandering he still had not decided upon where he should go. He had considered a human settlement, but his encounter with the hunter earlier had not endeared him to the ways of men, despite having his life spared. The other elven realms were few and far between, and he only knew their general direction, not how to reach them.

He dipped his hands into the water and drank of its sweetness; yet before he could manage more than a few swallows, a rustling sound reached his ears. It came from thick firs on the other side of the brook, and Lindir froze in sudden fear as he recalled the human who had come after him before.

Before he had time to rise and flee, a large dark shape materialized from the undergrowth. The young elf fell backwards amongst the tall grasses as a great bear ambled closer, large head swinging from side to side as though scenting something. On all fours its shoulder stood as high as Lindir’s chest, and its fur was a deep reddish-brown. Lindir watched fearfully, not knowing whether it would be safer to flee or to remain still and hope it didn’t scent him. There were also the trees, he considered, and as long as the bear didn’t try to follow or knock the tree down, he might be able to find safety in the tall firs.

Lindir shifted to flee just as the great head turned to focus upon him. There was a moment of silence, neither moving as a gentle breeze passes between them. Then the bear let forth a soft grunt before lying down, head between his massive paws. Lindir couldn’t help but jump at the sound; however he made no move to run. Instead, his brow furrowed slightly. The bear didn’t appear to be threatening, and he realized that the trees did not whisper of danger.

Gathering his courage, Lindir moved forward a step. The bear made no move other than to blink at him with sleepy eyes. Lindir continued closer, stepping to the stream’s edge where half-submerged rocks and a bit of a fallen log provided a bridge to cross. Not that it was deep or wide - the bear could have easily crossed it in a few strides, as could have Lindir - yet he didn’t wish to wet his clothes as they were all he had.

The bear continued to appear completely unthreatening; in fact, as Lindir stood at the edge of the water, it rolled over onto its back, the slightly paler fur of its belly now exposed to the warm sunlight. It made another grunting-whuffling sound that seemed to say, ‘See? I mean no harm,” and brought the beginnings of a smile to the elf’s downcast features.

Lindir crossed the stream, his steps still hesitant despite the bear’s amiable appearance. Although elves were known to have kind relations with most of the natural world, they still remained respectful and practical when encountering those with predatory natures. Yet the bear continued to remain calm and seemingly friendly, even when Lindir reached the other side and crouched down beside it. The great bear allowed the young elf to touch it, and Lindir soon found himself sinking his hands deep into the thick fur. He breathed in the dark musky scent as he buried his face against the ruff of its neck. A sense of peace drifted over him, and while it didn’t erase the fear and sadness over what had occurred, it smoothed out the edges to make it more endurable.

Lindir traveled with the bear for several days, heading north through the hills that bordered the mountains. He ate berries and roots that his companion indicated to be safe and spent his nights sheltered beside the bear’s warm body. He often kept his hand buried in the soft fur of the bear’s neck as they walked, for the large creature had become a comforting presence. The young elf sensed a strange intelligence behind the bear’s eyes, as though this creature was more than just some wild beast. It seemed to treat Lindir with a maternal affection; almost as though the elf were some sort of awkward cub.

Perhaps it was sent by the Valar for protection, he considered briefly, and then contented himself with following where it led.

Finally they came to a clearing with an old run-down cottage at its center. It appeared as though no one had been this way in a long time. With the bear’s encouragement Lindir decided to make the place his own. There was a small lake nearby, and the Sir Ninglor flowed swiftly within easy walking distance; perfect for catching fish. It was also so remote Lindir doubted his sister would ever find him here.

~~~

Several weeks passed. Celebrian found her goal of gaining Lord Elrond’s affections easily obtainable now that Lindir was gone, and certain potions slipped into his evening tea made him more receptive to her attentions. She had to take care, however, since the Imladrin Lord was a healer, and would be more apt to recognize strange flavors in his food and drink. Yet it didn’t take long before she was asked to accompany Lord Elrond back to his home with a promise of marriage.

Due to the attention she received over Lindir’s unexpected passing, and her own work in gaining her quarry’s favor, Celebrian found no time to consult the scrying pool. So confident was she of her success that she felt no pressing need to do so. Yet finally, late one evening after securing her plans to journey to Imladris, she found herself wandering alone though the clearing containing the magic pool. She knew that she would have to fashion such a tool on her own when she reached her new home, so she spent several moments inspecting the mithril bowl and the stone altar’s construction. When finished, she filled the moonlit bowl with clear water from the spring nearby. Once the ripples eased, she peered upon her reflection with a contented smile. For the first time in many years life appeared to be following her design.

As she gazed upon her image, preening at the reflection of her incandescent beauty, she was suddenly taken aback when the water began to shift curiously, swirling and forming a rim of delicate frost along the edges of the bowl. When the water finally settled the image which took shape made her step back in shock. Her brother appeared to be sitting upon the stoop of an old, rundown cottage, watching the stars shining down from the night sky with a look of gentle sorrow. Despite the fact that he appeared unkempt and exhausted, his beauty had only increased with the wild tempering.

Celebrian was livid in her anger. “I had him disposed of,” she muttered darkly, taking care not to raise her voice too loudly for fear of being overheard. “I held his still warm heart in my hands!”

The image shifted and disappeared, only to be replaced with that showing the hunter she had hired to kill her brother. She watched as he let Lindir go free, and then return to her with the heart of a yearling buck he had slain not long before.

Celebrian nearly upended the bowl in her sudden fury. She should never have sent another to kill her brother. Only the fear that she might attract the notice of the Valar had kept her from attempting a more direct attack; after all, to kill one’s own kin was one of the worst crimes her people could commit. However, her anger and obsession had grown to a point where the consequences to such actions were nothing more than a distant warning flitting against the back of her mind; and even then, it would only matter if she were caught, and she considered herself too clever for that.

“Where is my brother now?” she spat, and then watched carefully as the scrying pool sent forth a series of images that at first seemed chaotic and difficult to follow. Yet Celebrian was able to discern from the flashes the location of the old cottage, and this caused her to smile as another plan took form.

~~~

Within the week Celebrian, Lord Elrond, and an escort of twenty elves left the Golden Wood. Both Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were sad to see their only remaining child leave, even though both knew it to be for the best. However, that didn’t stop tears from falling down their sorrowful faces.

The party of elves made their way north along the edge of the Misty Mountains, towards the pass that would take them over the fog-enshrouded peaks to the hidden valley of Imladris on the other side. The weather remained fair for the travelers with no rain to hamper their progress despite the overcast skies. Celebrian remained gentle and attentive to all, and if any suspected her of deviousness, none gave any sign.

One afternoon after nearly a week of riding Celebrian pled weariness and suggested they make camp early. She was unused to riding such long distances, she claimed; and after all, there was no pressing need to arrive at her new home by any set time. The others agreed and proceeded to make camp in a quiet little glade. The sun took that moment to break free of the clouds, lending the clearing a warm glow which all took to be a welcome sign. Celebrian barely noticed. Although constant riding was indeed becoming tiresome, she had another reason for wishing to stop early. On the other side of the wood, tucked away behind the hill, was the little cottage where Lindir currently dwelled.

When night fell and most of the elves had retired to their bedrolls, Celebrian crept from her solitary tent, past the sentries who guarded their camp, and into the forest beyond. She dare not take a horse for fear of alerting those who stood on watch; however, she knew the cabin was not far, and she was certain she could walk there and back before any discovered her to be missing.

Indeed, the moon was still high when she approached the dwelling. The only sounds she heard were that of crickets chirruping and a few frogs singing their last songs to the night. She assumed her brother would be fast asleep given the lateness of the hour, so on stealthy feet and a long knife clutched in her hand she crept up to the door. It opened with the barest of squeaks and she managed to slip inside with no more noise than a hunting viper.

The cottage held only a single room with a stone fireplace sagging at one end, one decrepit table, and a bed which didn’t appear as though it would support a bird, much less an elf. In fact, a pile of soft grasses in the corner seemed to indicate that Lindir hadn’t thought much of the rundown piece of furniture either. Yet, despite that, the current inhabitant was nowhere to be found.

Celebrian frowned in frustration. With a careful search she determined that this was indeed where Lindir was dwelling. The pouch her brother had carried the day she had tried to have him killed hung on a nail near the grassy bed. Yet there was no telling when he would return, and she dare not wait here much longer else someone discover her to be missing.

She paced once around the cottage, her devious mind plotting furiously. Her calculating gaze kept falling upon the neglected pouch. He had been gathering herbs before the attack, an abortifacient that would remove the unwanted child growing within him. Had he succeeded in his endeavor or had he decided to keep the babe?

Finally she reached for the leather pouch, lifted it from the nail, and opened it. Lying within were several bunches of the gathered plant; much of it wilted and bruised, but still effective. In fact, she considered with a dark smile, there was enough of the herb to not only kill an unborn child, but the genitor as well.

~~~

Lindir returned to the cabin just as the moon set beyond the mountain peaks. He had decided to take a stroll around the nearby lake, taking pleasure in the bright starlight now that the clouds had briefly cleared from the sky. He held no fear of the dark knowing that the bear was somewhere about. The large, protective creature was never far, even though he couldn’t always be seen.

In fact, the bear ambled out from beneath the trees just as Lindir had reached the door of the cottage. With a few loping strides the bear was by his side, although it hesitated before entering the dark dwelling, sensing something amiss. Lindir watched the bear curiously, but as it made no move to stop him, he opened the door and stepped inside. Nothing appeared to be disturbed, so he went to the hearth to resettle the coals before lying down on his grassy bed. The bear shuffled about the room, sniffing and occasionally making a confused grunt before finally settling down next to Lindir in its usual protective manner. In this way they fell asleep.

The next morning, as the once more cloudy sky lightened with dawn, Lindir rose and stoked up the fire to provide a bit of light to the dark room and to heat the stew that had been resting over the coals. The old, battered pot had been found in the cottage, and currently held a mixture of roots, vegetables, and even a bit of rabbit that the bear had managed to hunt down for him. There wasn’t much left, but it would be enough for a decent breakfast.

The bear woke as well, demanding to be let outside to perform its morning absolutions. Lindir opened the door and watched as it lumbered off into the trees. For a brief time after the bear disappeared the young elf merely stood there, listening to the music of the dawn. Finally he turned back inside, pulled the pot off the coals using the edges of his tunic, and placed it on the table. It creaked loudly, but held firm. The chair that had accompanied it had been broken beyond repair, so Lindir had used it as kindling for the fire.

He ate the stew, barely noting the faint astringent flavor. He was still learning to cook, and attributed any oddness to some deficiency on his part. It wasn’t until he was nearly finished with his meal that the young elf heard scraping at the door, indicating the bear wished to come back inside. Lindir rose to open the door. He only made it a few steps before his abdomen began to twist suddenly and painfully, eliciting a quick gasp from his lips. He huddled there for a moment, clutching his midsection while waiting for the pain to subside. It seemed to do so after a brief time, and he continued towards the door where the bear seemed to be scratching more urgently.

The young elf finally made it to the door, yet collapsed to his knees before he could lift the latch to open it. The pain had returned with a force that felt as though his insides were being torn from his body. He cried out sharply; a sound which receded to a whimper as he dropped fully to the floor. The pain was dizzying, making it difficult to think; however he couldn’t help but spare a thought for the child growing within him. He had not taken the herb he had gathered with his sister due to the sensation of new life blossoming within. How could he destroy something so innocent, even if the method of conception wasn’t pure?

Now it felt as though that new life was in danger; yet there was nothing he could do except huddle on the dirty wood floor, curling around the pain. It pushed him relentlessly towards unconsciousness until the last thing he heard was the bear breaking through the door, and the last thing he felt was something warm and wet pooling between his legs.

~~~

The bear took a moment to sniff anxiously around the elf’s collapsed form. When it smelled blood, it let loose a low keen of sorrow. Then with the care of a mother with her injured cub, the large creature gently picked Lindir up by the back of his tunic and left the cottage.

The bear carried its unconscious burden deep into the mountains, pausing occasionally when Lindir’s body twitched and spasmed in pain, or when he began to vomit up some of the poisonous herb Celebrian had mixed into his food the night before. It was dark when the bear finally stopped before the entrance of a cave, its entrance well hidden by thick bushes. Lindir was carefully placed upon the ground, and the bear backed up a few steps. Then it began to make a loud roaring sound that caused the evening birds to fly away in fear.

It wasn’t long before there was a rustling at the mouth of the cave; a sound which caused the bear to back away until he was hidden amongst the trees and rocky outcroppings. The thick bushes hesitantly parted to reveal a craggy, bearded face. The dwarf glanced around, a large axe in hand, before finally emerging. When he saw the injured elf lying prone upon the ground, he went to investigate.

Before long several of his brethren joined him to inspect the body. None could immediately discern what ailed the fallen elf. The paleness and damp sheen to his skin spoke of illness, although all knew that elves rarely fell ill by normal means. The blood soaking his breeches told of some injury, however nothing was immediately apparent.

Since dwarves were naturally distrustful of elvenkind, several of the brethren expressed suspicious doubt over aiding the fallen creature; yet their views were not strong and easily overridden by the others, especially in light of the elf’s injuries. One of the dwarves carefully lifted the slight body and brought him inside their dwelling. A pallet was quickly made up for none of their beds were large enough for the taller creature.

And so Lindir was laid down, still unconscious, and taken under the care of the eldest dwarf who had spent some time studying the healing arts. The dwarf – who went by the name of Thrin – suspected poison, and set about doing what he could to flush the frail body of its remains. He could find no source of physical injury despite all the blood, and so assumed it to be from some sort of internal bleeding that had now ceased to flow. Yet he knew enough about elves to fear what such an injury might mean – no creature took well to physical violation, but elves least of all. He could only hope that the elf wouldn’t be healed, only to slowly die from grief.

~~~

Lindir finally woke to flickering candlelight in a strange, muted darkness. He was immediately confused as to his whereabouts. The last thing he could recall was the cabin and the fierce pain in his abdomen as he struggled for the door. His hands quickly moved to rest upon his stomach at the remembered pain, and his mind sought the flicker of life that had once blossomed there. Yet there was nothing for him to sense, and this caused a deep sadness to flow through his mind. Although the child has been unintended, it was still life, and still precious to him. His heart felt weighed down by sorrow, and nothing could keep the slow tear from trickling down his cheek.

An unexpected noise caused Lindir to jolt, and he weakly rose to a sitting position. As he watched, a short, stout dwarf with a long black and silver beard stepped towards him.

“W-Who are you?” Lindir stammered, his face bright with confusion.

“I am Thrin,” the dwarf answered in a gruff voice; “one of seven brothers who mine the caves in this part of the mountains. You were found injured several days ago just outside our home. I have been tending you during this time.”

“Oh,” Lindir replied, looking down at his hands. That would explain the nearly complete darkness and stone walls which surrounded him. “My name is Lindir. I thank you very much for your assistance; although I confess that I do not know how I came to be here.” In truth, all he could recall was the bear carrying him through the forest, and that only in quick flashes of memory.

“I believe you were poisoned,” Thrin said, moving to stand next to the elf.

Lindir sucked in a breath. Poison would explain the pain and the death of his unborn child. He realized that there must have been something in the leftover stew he had eaten that morning, yet he hadn’t felt anything amiss the day before. He could still recall the faint astringent flavor, even though he had thought little of it at the time. Someone must have crept into the cabin while he was at the lake, or even while he was sleeping, and added some poison to his food. But who would do such a thing?

It didn’t take long for his mind to find an answer. There was only one being who seemed to wish him harm: his dear sister. Celebrian must have discovered somehow that he was still alive, and given how elaborate her plan to kill him had been before, he wouldn’t put this past her.

And how could she have found out his whereabouts? That seemed easy. She had already confessed to peaking within their mother’s scrying pool and discovering the truth of Lindir’s abnormal condition. She could have easily continued keeping a watchful eye upon the pool and used it as suited her own means. The chilling part was that she would then quickly learn that her second attempt at murder had failed.

Lindir slowly lay back down upon the pallet, and the dwarf could easily read the sorrow and despair written upon his face. “You know who did this?”

“I believe so.” Lindir murmured while staring off into the darkness. “My sister wishes me dead; but for reasons I do not know of. I have fled from my home to escape her, yet it appears she still follows. I do not know where to turn. She has tried to kill me once, but did not succeed. Likely this was her second attempt.” He could not stop the slight shiver from rushing up his spine. “I fear I will not survive a third.”

Thrin couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the poor elf’s plight, and he knew his brothers – even the hardest-hearted of them – would feel the same. “You are safe here with me and my kin,” he told Lindir. “You may stay with us.”

Lindir turned his eyes upon the dwarf. “You would help me further? Yet I do not wish to put you or your brothers in harm’s way.”

Thrin smiled at the elf’s concern. It was admirable, but he felt he had little to fear from a vengeful she-elf. He and his brothers were well-trained with more than just the pick-axe.

“I doubt there is much for us to fear. Besides, there were elves sighted upon the road headed north. Perhaps your sister was amongst them. If so, they have long since passed us by.”

Lindir frowned at that. He knew enough of the geology of the realms to know that that would be the route taken by Lord Elrond to and from Imladris. He was likely headed home, and with Celebrian by his side. She had what she finally wanted, and now that she thought him dead, she would have no reason to come after him again. And with her in Imladris, she would not have access to their mother’s scrying pool, and would not discover that he still lived. While his heart ached at the thought that Celebrian was now with the one he himself had desired, he was more grateful still to be alive, and would find some way to push the pain away. He only prayed that Lord Elrond was wise enough to keep ahead of her wiles.