To Travel With Wings

For a long time after breakfast, Silnar sat on a stone bench in the gardens outside her room. The sun was warm, though she could not feel it, but she enjoyed the light it cast on her face. A light breeze occasionally greeted the garden from the south, blowing the elanor and niphredil; shaking their blossoms and releasing their scents.

Birds sang in the trees above that were dark green from spring rains. Silnar enjoyed their songs for they reminded her of life before this Age, in Beleriand, when times were good. Thinking of Beleriand always brought Maedhros into her waking dreams.

She still remembered in great detail the day they first met. She had been wandering long in the plains of Lothlann when a trio of horsemen overcame her. She had been lost, bewildered, and knew nothing of herself. So when the three came upon her, it had been a strange meeting to say the very least.


********************************************************************

“Look into the distance, brother; tell me what you see. I do believe my eyes deceive me in the glare of the sun.”

Maedhros shaded his eyes and looked into the distance where Maglor pointed. There was a dainty figure, alone, walking amidst the tall grasses of his plains.

“Methinks it is an orc estranged from his fellows. Shall we hunt it?” Maglor asked eagerly.

Maedhros shook his head. “I do not think it to be an orc, Maglor. Its stride I deem too fair.”

“Shall we ride to it then, my friends,” said Romen, a mighty Captain and old friend of Maedhros.

Maedhros nodded and the three set their steeds at a ground-eating trot. It was not long before they came upon the figure, but they knew by then that it was a maiden.

The lady elf did not sense their approach, and was startled when the horses whinnied. She seemed bewildered, lost, and afraid when she turned to look upon them.

“Who are you?” Romen asked harshly in Sindarin.

The lady elf stared at him, not comprehending his speech. Maglor leaned towards Maedhros. “Do you think she is lost?” He made motions with his hands about his head. Maedhros shrugged and dismounted. The girl backed away, shaking and ready for flight.

“You could not hope to escape my swift steed, little one. Tell me who you are.”

Maedhros spoke gently and the girl relaxed slightly, but still did not answer. Romen huffed impatiently. “Mayhap the girl is mute. Although I have not yet met one of the Eldar who is, there is a first for everything.”

“Perhaps the poor girl has seen horrors beyond Lothlann that have caused her to take to silence! Mayhap you should take your cue from her, Romen, before I cut your surly tongue from your mouth.”

The girl gasped and backed away from the harsh words of Maedhros. The eldest son of Feanor regretted instantly his hastiness to anger. Maglor dismounted also, and spoke softly to the girl, like he would to a wild animal. Maedhros backed away, for he knew his brother possessed much of their mother in his spirit, but he could not help but feel a slight pang of jealousy. The lady was enchantingly beautiful to behold and she moved his heart, which no lady of the Eldar had ever been able to do.

Maglor had made it to the lady’s side. She watched him warily, but allowed him to take her hand. He stroked it softly, and then kissed it gently. She watched this with wide eyes and blushed prettily, causing Maglor to chuckle.

“She is not without her maidenly thoughts.” He pointed to himself and said, slowly, “Maglor.”

The girl cocked her head at him and repeated his name. Her voice was rich and vibrant, husky and low. Its sound caused shivers to shoot down Maedhros spine. It was unlike the lilting voices of the other Eldar ladies and he liked it.

“See, Romen, the beautiful lady is not mute.” He turned his gaze back to the girl and pointed to her. She shrugged.

“I don’t think she knows her name,” Maglor whispered. Maedhros raised his eyebrow. “Why do you whisper, Maglor, when she cannot understand our tongue?”

Maglor turned slightly red and shrugged. He pointed to his mouth and spread his hands in a gesture of speech, then pointed to her. The girl nodded swiftly, smiling wide, and spewed forth a barrage of Quenya.

Maglor stared at her, positively stupefied for a moment before bursting into laughter. The girl’s monologue died suddenly and she gazed at him, confused.

“Of course, she speaks Quenya! Mayhap she has journeyed from Valinor. She would not then know our tongue.”

Romen looked at her suspiciously. “I do not see the light of Aman in her bearing. Mayhap she is deceiving us and is a spy from the enemy.”

“Who knows how long she has wondered in these plains, for they are wide and long.”

The girl had grown impatient and tapped Maglor on the shoulder. He turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

“Cease speaking your absurd language! I know by your laughter that you must understand me!”

Maedhros chuckled. “You have spirit,” he said, speaking Quenya. It felt wonderful to converse in the forgotten language again.

“What is your name?” Maglor asked.

“I do not know my name,” the girl replied, nibbling her lip. “I remember nothing of who I am or where I come from. I awoke in these plains and have been wandering for many days.”

The three companions were silent and regarded each other, unsure of how to accept this story. Romen spoke first in Sindarin.

“I do not believe her. It is obvious she speaks falsities. Maedhros, the enemy is very deceitful, we must be careful.”

“I know that you speak of me, distrustful one,” snapped the girl, “If you have suspicions of me, then speak them.”

Romen backed his horse away slightly, unsure of how to proceed. Maedhros shook his head. “We live in times of great danger, lady, and Romen is right to be so suspicious. Our enemy is a master of lies and illusions.”

“Well,” she huffed, “I know nothing of this enemy, for I do not know where I now stand. However, I suppose the word of a strange lady is not enough for you, and I can not blame you. I shall be on my way and find….something.”

Her voice trailed off as she gazed around the wide expanse of field. Maedhros laughed. “Be you friend or foe, I will not leave you to certain death. You stand in Lothlann, lady, land that I hold and protect, but dangers yet lurk here in the dark and hidden places. You had best return with us to my home where I shall keep watch over you.”

The girl shrugged. “I accept your offer, for what else can I be expected to do.”

Maedhros nodded and mounted his horse. He leaned down and swept her tiny body onto his horse in front him. She settled into his tall and strong figure, feeling very safe. She welcomed the feeling after many days of solitude and fear.

The tall Eldar wrapped his arms around her to keep her steady and guided his horse with his legs. They rode behind Maglor and Romen who were speaking swiftly and quietly in Sindarin.

“You have not spoken your name to me, tall one.”

Maedhros laughed low in her ear, and she liked the sound. His body rumbled with it and she shivered delightfully. Maedhros wrapped his cloak around her, thinking her cold and she liked the warmth his cocoon provided.

“My people call me Maedhros the tall. I am the eldest son of Feanor son of Finwe.”

The girl smiled. “Grand names, but they mean naught to me.”

Silence reigned for a while. The girl had noticed when she had first laid eyes on Maedhros that he had no right hand. Her heart burned with curiosity and she had no sense to keep her mouth quiet.

“I know that we have but met, but I must know. How did you lose your hand?”

Maedhros was silent for a long time. She wondered if he had heard her question or if he had chosen to ignore it.

“The great enemy, who we fight, imprisoned me upon his cliffs by one hand. My good friend Fingon, rescued me, but he had to cut off my hand to release me from my chain.”

“I see. It is quite dashing.”

Maedhros laughed then, amused with her naiveté. “Most are repulsed by it, or are too frightened of my temper to speak of it. I thank you anyway, little one, for your compliment.”

They were quiet, and the sun dipped low in the sky. The evening air was warm and sweet lightening Maedhros’ heart. He let his horse slow its gait to a walk and Maglor and Romen rode ever further ahead. So engrossed in their conversation they were, that they did not notice Maedhros’ disappearance from their side.

“I must call you something lady, for I am tired of thinking of you in terms of your fair gender.”

Sweet laughter filled the air and the girl leaned back against Maedhros. “Then what will you call me? Make it beautiful, my lord.”

“I shall call you Cuivie, for you have awakened in me emotions I did not know existed.”

“Cuivie,” she repeated slowly. “I like it, my lord.”

“How is it you know so much but remember so little?”

Cuivie shrugged. “I do not know. I know many things, for I remember my language. I know that I am Eldar. I know that I am a girl. Everything that is my past, it is blank.”

“Do you know of the Valar?”

Cuivie nodded. “I know that they guide us.”

Maedhros shook his head. “Not anymore. The Eldar of this land are estranged from the Valar.”

Cuivie furrowed her eyebrows. “How sad. I remember the Valar as kind and just.”

“Perhaps you have come from Valinor. It matters not, you are here now.”

“Yes, I am here now…..”


************************************************************************

Silnar roused herself from her dream and blinked her eyes rapidly. How odd that she had fallen asleep in the gardens. It was not like her to sleep during the day. Perhaps breakfast had weakened her more then she thought.

She stood and moved with care towards her room. The memories were not painful yet and she had no wish to stay in a garden that brought them to such reality. The memories did not stay painless for long and she was not ready to confront certain ones just yet.