No Road Home

Part the Fifth

Elrond sat for awhile on the terrace after his arrival. Maltheneldor brought him an additional light brunch, and he ate it thoughtfully, appreciating the savor, the delicacy of the flavors, the freshness of the food, as he had not done in many long days. It was one thing, he mused, to be forced to endure hardship of necessity during a desperate military campaign. It was quite another to have never experienced anything else in one's life. He wondered if Windwalker had ever known what it was to sleep in a clean, soft bed, with fresh new linens cradling her body. He strongly doubted it.

The thought that Mithrandir had been the first person in her life to ever provide her with fresh food of her very own created an ache somewhere deep inside Elrond. He had not realized that the human was verging on starvation. Here, in very Valinor itself, she lived in abject poverty. Yet, he somehow knew, it was still far better for her here than it had been in her own land.

He glanced up when Buck exited the forest to graze on Elrond's lawn. Inspiration struck. He summoned Maltheneldor, whispering a few quick words. His manservant bowed, and exited immediately to do his master's bidding. Elrond stood, summoning the deer-friend to himself. He bent his head, touching his brow to the deer's, and communicated with the animal for a moment. The response he got pleased him.

When Maltheneldor returned with a parcel of food, he and Elrond carefully strapped it to the buck's back. "Go, mellon," a smiling Elrond told the animal, who nodded and turned toward the forest again. (friend)


Windwalker was just emerging from the brook, her hair streaming water, when Buck arrived at her camp. He stood and looked at her. I have come with a gift, he told her.

"Wait a minute, Buck," she said, wringing out her hair and wrapping herself in her blanket to avoid a chill. Her clothing, freshly scrubbed with the soapwort Elrond had found for her, lay across a bush to dry in the sunshine. "There," she came to the deer, "what is it?"

It is food. Good food. It will keep well.

"Where did you get it?" Wind asked in amazement, as she opened the package. "Oh, my."

I may not say. The bread is called lembas.

"Was it Gandalf?"

Unole sensed the buck's smile. I may not say.

She pondered for a moment, wondering. "Well, can you carry a message back?"

I can.

"Tell my benefactor, wado. Thank you."

I will.

Buck headed into the forest, taking a winding path back to the House of Elrond with the message, as Windwalker carefully cached her windfall.


Legolas stood with Elrond on the terrace as Windwalker emerged from the wood. "Mae govannen," called the blond elf. "I have not seen a human in many a year. It is good to meet you, Walker on the Wind. I am called Legolas." (well met)

"Oh my," Windwalker gasped as she approached. "THAT Legolas?"

"The same," Elrond smiled, amused.

"Many of the Fellowship are somewhere here, are they not?" Wind asked softly.

"Those that chose to come, yes," Elrond said, face stiffening, and she understood she had inadvertently trod on delicate matters.

"I...I..." she stammered, guilt riddling her for bringing up a hurtful topic. Shamefaced, she dropped her head. Elrond's eyebrow rose at her reaction.

Legolas, seeing what had happened, stepped gracefully into the breach. "I will be happy to introduce you to the Ringbearers, if you would like."

"I...would."

"Then perhaps later, after your lesson."

"I'd like that very much."

"Come," Elrond said then, shaking away the grief, knowing that Wind had not meant to cause pain. "Let us go to the Twine Bridge."

"The what?" Windwalker asked, following the swift Elves as they made their way into and through Mithbar.

"The Twine Bridge," Legolas repeated. "It is the site of your lesson this morning."

"Okay..." Unole murmured thoughtfully, trying hard to move silently and with no lasting imprint, with some slight success. She looked up as Legolas and Elrond stopped. "Oh, agida," she whispered. (excrement)

The Twine Bridge was the classic Elven bridge such as had been found in Lothlorien, an Elven rope stretched between two supports, upon which travelers ran back and forth some twenty feet over a woodland stream, the River Mithril. Beneath it, Cirdan, Celeborn, and Galadriel awaited. Others of the Council arrived speedily. Legolas put his hand on Windwalker's shoulder, as Elrond moved to join the Council members present. Only Gandalf was missing from the gathered Council, Wind noticed.

"Come," Legolas said gently. "I will teach you how to run the Bridge."

Windwalker made her way nimbly up the rope ladder behind Legolas to the platform at the end of the bridge. At the far end, another Elf flung a second rope to Legolas, and they tied it off at waist height. "Now you have a handrail," Legolas smiled. "Do not worry. Even Gimli was able to cross with this."

"NO DWARF-TOSSING!" came a cry from below, and Windwalker looked down to see Gimli standing at Galadriel's side as she laughed aloud at the dwarf's humor. Idle Elves began to gather around, curious.

"I've got a freakin' audience," Wind murmured to herself, feeling fear rise up inside. "Just once, I wish I could try this stuff without being watched." It seemed to her that the very air was heavy with threat. She glanced up; the sky itself appeared darkened, foreboding.

"Do not be afraid, Windwalker," Legolas soothed. "Look. Hold to the line. It is easy this way." He grabbed the handrail and ran surefootedly across the bridge and back. "You do not have to go as fast. No one expects you to. When you get used to this, then we will try removing the handrail."

Windwalker nodded. She stepped forward and grasped the smooth rope in her hand, holding tightly. Then, summoning all the courage she possessed, she placed one moccasined foot on the footrope, and stepped into the air.

One step...another...and another. Slowly Wind began to relax, feeling the rope under her feet, her toes gripping surely. Her knuckles, nearly white, began regaining some color as she eased her grip on the handrail.

Below, the Council nodded in approval as Windwalker picked up speed on the bridge. She was moving at a normal walk by the time she reached the far side, having obviously learned to anticipate the gentle harmonic motion of the suspended line. On her return trip, she picked up the pace again, and her excitement was obvious.

When she returned to Legolas, he suggested, "Try running. It is actually easier that way."

Wind sucked in a deep breath, then nodded. Grabbing the handrope, she lunged forward, sprinting across the bridge, gripping and releasing with her toes, letting the handrail rope slide rapidly through her fingers. She gasped in relief as she made the landing on the far side, and heard Gimli's cheer of encouragement go up. Then she heard Elrond's voice, "She does well."

Her heart soared at the praise. It was hard, but perhaps she could do this yet. 'In the end, it isn't as if I have to worry about doing it for a long time, or often,' she noted to herself. She turned, and ran back toward a smiling Legolas, who caught her exuberantly, swinging her around the platform before putting her down.

"See?" he told her, smiling. "I knew you could do it. You remind me of my friends in the Fellowship," he said softly. "There is something about you...it makes me think of Frodo, during the quest..."

Windwalker's eyes widened, understanding what he sensed. To divert his attention, she asked, "What shall I do next?"

"Do you think you are up to trying it without the handrope?" Legolas asked.

"I...don't know. I guess I can try." Unole felt her knees quake.

"You are barely holding to it now," Legolas pointed out. "Do the same thing, only let your hand float just above the rope."

"...I guess I'm game," she agreed.

"It is like flying. Do not look down, and let yourself glide. Pretend you are an Eagle. Your feet need barely touch the rope."

Wind thought about that for a moment, abruptly remembering her dream in the grey ship. 'Flying away...over a sea of glass...' she recalled. Legolas ran out onto the rope, demostrating, and returned. "See?"

"Like an Eagle," she murmured to herself. "An Eagle..." Suddenly, Legolas saw a light of understanding in her eyes, and he knew it had become clear. "YES!" she exclaimed. "I know how!"

Below, the others saw her leap forward, and keen Elf eyes noted that this time she did not grip the handrail. Elrond saw the light in her face, the understanding, and held his breath in excited anticipation. "Yes, little one," he whispered. "Noro lim!"

No one had noticed the early afternoon raincloud that had arisen, the air that had grown heavy with moisture, so intent were they on the human who strove to master their skills. But when the sky opened abruptly, providing abundant drink for the plant people, with Unole only halfway across the bridge, Elrond's face paled in horror. "BAW! NO!" he exclaimed. "Legolas, GET HER! The rope is wet! She is not ready!"

Legolas darted onto the bridge, just as Wind's foot slipped on the glasslike surface of the wet rope. She grabbed for the handrope and missed. Legolas was mere seconds behind her, but it was seconds too long. She plummeted from the bridge, landing hard on the mossy bank of the river below.


When Elrond reached her, she was still unconscious. Swiftly he and Galadriel examined the fallen woman, ascertaining that she was indeed alive. They also determined that she had several broken ribs, nasty gashes and scrapes, and a probable concussion.

"Bear her to the infirmary," Galadriel commanded gently. "She will be tended there."

A groan indicated that Windwalker was regaining consciousness. She opened her eyes and looked up at them, trying to focus. As Elrond saw her memory return, her eyes filled with tears. "I...failed," she murmured miserably.

Elrond opened his mouth to give comfort, to tell her that she only needed more experience, but Turgon said grimly, "Yes. You have failed."

Windwalker turned her face away, accepting the verdict. "I...will go...away." Her voice was deathly quiet as the rain poured down, soaking them to the skin.

Elrond looked up at the Elven healers who had arrived. "Take her to my home," he instructed them, giving a sharp glance at Turgon and Galadriel. "I will tend her there myself."


At his home, Elrond deliberately placed her in a lavish bedroom down the hallway from his own, seeing that she was laid comfortably in a soft feather bed while he attired himself in dry clothing. Sending the other healers away, he selected some herbs, bringing them to her room, where he sat down beside her on the bed. Maltheneldor brought water, and Elrond dropped a handful of herbs in it, letting them steep. Then he dipped a cloth in the water and gently applied it to the discolored lump on Windwalker's forehead. She bit her lip to avoid the moan that tried to escape.

"If it hurts, let it out," Elrond said softly. "I will be as gentle as I can," but Wind shook her head slowly.

"It's my own fault."

"No. It was an accident."

"There are others who disagree with you, Elrond." She sighed. "I'll leave Valinor. I will never belong here."

"Not until you are fit to travel, at least. That will be a few days yet." He peeled her sodden shirt off her shoulders, revealing her undergarments, as he began applying compresses to the various bruises and scrapes that he found, with the herb-infused water. "Mm. We will have to bind up these ribs."

"I broke them?"

"Yes."

A soft string of vehement words in Tsalagi left her lips, and Elrond assumed, without bothering to ask, that Windwalker was pronouncing imprecations upon herself.

"It does not seem to interfere with your speech," he noted mildly.

"You get used to pain eventually."

The comment puzzled him, as his fingers probed carefully, searching for more injury. When he unfastened the waistband of her threadbare jeans and palpated her belly, she grunted slightly; he did not like what he felt in her abdomen, but she pushed his hand away before he could investigate more. "No further," she informed him bluntly.

"I...did not mean to offend."

"I know. I'm just...very private about..."

He nodded in understanding, and resumed doctoring the visible wounds. "I need to bind those ribs now," he said, reaching for a roll of bandages. "The herb I used will have them knit back in a few days, but they must be held in place until then."

With a grunt of suppressed pain, she sat up and held out her arms, allowing him to wrap the bandage snugly around her middle torso. When it was completed, she lay back down listlessly. Maltheneldor entered with a hot beverage and dry robes.

"Here," Elrond said, handing her the drink, "this will help you relax and heal. Call one of the maidens of my house to help you dress."

He and Maltheneldor withdrew, leaving the human to her thoughts.


The rest of the Council, save Mithrandir, awaited him in his study. Elrond entered with a heavy heart.

"The decision is made, Elrond," Gil-galad decreed. "You know she cannot stay."

"I...know."

"She must depart as soon as she is able," Galadriel murmured. "I did not wish it to come to this. But she made no attempt to reach out to me, even when I reached out to her."

"I do not think she could, hiril nin," Elrond mused. (my lady)

"Why?"

"I am uncertain. She seems to grow painfully tongue-tied around us."

"Then how can she hope to live among us?" Cirdan asked reasonably.

"I do not know that she wants to live among us," Elrond admitted, "only to live here, in Valinor. I do not completely understand, but I think she somehow needs to be here. Her life has, I think, been a hard one. It is only marginally better here, but the beauty sustains her soul."

"It matters not," Celeborn declared. "She must leave."

"And the Valar?" Elrond pressed. "What judgement do they make?"

"They made no judgement," Melian answered softly. "They decree the decision is ours to make." The Maia sighed quietly.

"She herself said she would leave, Elrond," Cirdan pointed out. "We cannot go against her own will when it is in agreement with our decision. She has failed. She must leave."

Elrond thought swiftly. "She fails only because she tries too hard. If I can convince her to slow her pace, to spend more time..."

Celeborn shook his head. "It is this very impatience which separates her from us," he noted. "It is the cause, not the effect."

"I would that Mithrandir had an input into the decision," Elrond protested.

"Very well," Galadriel agreed. "Consult with Mithrandir. But if he has no respite for the human woman, she must depart, Elrond. There is no help for it."


Elrond sat alone in his room, silent, pondering events. He sighed, and steepled his fingers. 'Mithrandir,' he called through the power of his mind, 'your help is needed, old friend.'

After a moment, a response arrived. 'I am far away, Master Elrond. How can I be of assistance?'

'Every attempt has been made to teach Windwalker our ways. And every attempt has failed. She presses hard, ofttimes too hard, and in that, meets her downfall. In your absence the Council has decreed that she must leave. She has been injured in the attempts, and must heal, or I have little doubt that she would already be on her way back to the World of Men.'

There was a pause. Then Gandalf's reply came back. 'I will be there as soon as may be.'

'Mithrandir,' Elrond began hesitantly, 'is it possible to...MAKE her an Elf?'

'You mean, change her from human to elvenkind?'

'Yes.'

Elrond heard Gandalf's sigh from afar. 'Were she to be bound to one of the Eldar, this thing might be accomplished. Is there any sign of this?'

'No,' Elrond answered quietly, bitterly.

'Then there is no hope.'