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Celedir and
Halyanis
Hollin >>> Nin-In-Eilph
A lone bird, doubtless some native to these reaches, struggled high above them as it's wings were snagged upon the biting rush of wind. Already the air itself was rimmed with a nameless chill. They had left the sanctuary of the fair valley behind them and, as had become custom,
Celedir had found himself revisiting a want to travel Southward, of course. Southerly lay home, or once a place that had gone by that name. He half turned, to replenish the memory of Eregion, and found only the knowing face of his darker-haired associate.
“
It might not be so wise to cast your eyes toward that which would grieve your heart,”
Halyanis counselled gravely, though her want to protect him was softened by pity, for his heartbreak. She had never come unto the land which folk now named ‘Hollin’, not until the point of it’s evacuation. Not until it had already begun to unravel. That day, come with
Tirindo to locate his lost niece there, she had found instead a re-enactment of the crisis last endured the day that niece had fled. Conflict, slaughter, death and fear. The irony of timing was a cruel hand of the fates. They had found their missing relative however, in the refuge of Imladris after. They had found
Celedir too, for the first time in that den of despair and desperation.
What the younger Elf now laid his eyes about was a very altered sight to that seen by
Halyanis. She could not see past that dread recollection. But the kingdom of Eregion had been home to him before it had devolved unto a ruin. He had been born there, within the cultural metropolis of Elves and Dwarves, during a period of glory and might and power for both kinds. Until they had all of them been betrayed. His father lost, his mother soon thenafter giving in to grief,
Halyanis had taken him up, still a small child then, and swaddled him in comfort. Never pity, never sorrow. For she and her husband had lost their son in the War of Jewels, in the first age of the Sun. To her, the now orphaned boychild was a lost piece to fit the puzzle of her heart. She without her son, he without his mother, they had found what each required in each other, and been gladder always for that gift.
Tirindo of course had been less swift to unlock his heart, long drawn cold and bitter. He suffered the presence of
Celedir for
Halyanis’s sake, or so it seemed to the youth. And so as much as he wanted to make the ancient archer proud, it was a long and hard war of a thing. Far easier and far more joyful was the time he spent alone with
Halyanis. As was this day. A time apart. A time to be glad for all they had, not begrudge what they lacked. Yet still he had led her along these paths. Yet still, he had come home as though his memories carried him, rather than his horse.
It no longer looked like home, and it was not. Yet still it was. And for all that she had not denied his want to see them here, now
Haly fretted. For the eve was drawing dark and their hearts were hung heavy. The younger Elf bore eyes of iron that were melded to his torment. To all that now stood in Hollin. To all that now did not.
Unsteady terrain played mischief even as they turned back to the safety of the valley, across an expanse littered with the very real danger of perilous footfalls. For soon the land beneath them clambered ruggedly and also tumbled unexpectedly, where perilous cracks and ditches sought to snag unwary feet. The horses slowed without ever having to be told. Time stood, and could not shift the weight of hours to a more pleasing surround. And so they lingered long when they ought not. And so they found themselves in company of darkness, and all that walks in that shadow.
A dread horn bayed against the falling sky and the horses took fright, liquid eyes come wide and animated in their heaving panting terror. When they faltered, when they floundered, the Elves walked them without any word spent toward such a plan. The one simply following the other. And so leading their beasts with gentle snatches of song, the dark haired and the fair haired Elf each dared steps, their own haunting melody raising chills. The good earth fell away in chunks to ever widening meres of water until the marsh surrounded them. Still they both sang and they each found a comfort in the other, and a resolve to keep on.
The invisible tug caught
Celedir at both ankles, hauling him off balance to a hard and bracing splash against his back. The water was not more than knee height, but more than enough to keep him under as he was laid horizontal. The last thing he saw was the sharp turn of
Haly’s dark head, the abrupt loss of their fragile peace, and the burn of the horse’s reins along his palm as he was snatched away from it in surprise. After that it was a case of gasping for the surface, flailing with both hands, as whatever had snagged him at each ankle was now towing him along through the marsh, carelessly beneath the murky film of scum and mud. Reeds were bent and birds startled by the young Elf’s ongoing abduction, no less startled than he was himself to see men, fierce bearded men and women sprawled with purpose underneath the water, taking air from the surface through reeds.
How long he and his second mother had walked in their midst, never knowing, he could not have said. It would do no good now to think on such alarming things, not in the face of ever more presenting peril. The mortals rose to their feet in a queue, with mighty triumphant cries and whoops which failed to smother the scream which told of
Haly’s likewise plight. And then along the path came men already stood, waiting and anticipating, as an avenue of trees in the gloom. They dropped their heavy clubs all about the Elf’s unprotected form. Until at length the strong cord which had snagged about each ankle slowed it’s race. The fisher who had heaved in this unlikely catch, held up one arm, and the two Elves found their throat knotted in thick burly arms.
Coughing up water and no small amount of shock,
Celedir found the leering face of perhaps the tallest man there. The Elf looked for
Haly, looked for their horses, and panicked, finding neither in his sight. He heard her though, close, and not unlike himself in abhorred shock. And their eventful evening had only just begun …
Celedir, in the abandoned watchtower, Lond Daer
(a week approx later). With
Gladhron
The Elf may not have recognised the mortal turn of phrase, but he was eager to believe the earnest optimism of the Man.
“
You know your brother better than do I,” the Immortal acknowledged with a lingering nod. He did not know any of the Men well enough to judge their chances of success, but he was sure that his own had momentously improved since their arrival. If he had been at all suspicious though, he might have noted though how the remaining stranger positioned himself before their only window. To stand between an Elf now and his watch on what occurred beyond ?
Celedir drew close to lines of consternation at his brow then, and pondered several lines in mind with which to question the Man. Until, perhaps unsurprisingly,
Gladhron leapt up from his seat after a time and seemed insistent upon going off outside, alone. The Elf felt guilty then, for having possibly laid too intense a stare upon one he’d named as his ally.
Had he made the Man uncomfortable ? Had the Ranger seen something outside ? Had
Gladhron been merely but biding time until it seemed less suspicious to sneak off ? The Elf hadn’t noticed any horses, hadn’t heard them when he had ventured outside to quiet down the mortals’ din before. Of course he had been rushing, to get back … so he might have missed them. Unwilling to ignore his instincts,
Celedir allowed
Gladhron to leave, without complaint. He merely brought his bow to hand, readied the half-full quiver and replaced the man’s stand at the window.
“
I can provide cover,” was all that he offered up. There was no response and in the Ranger’s haste, he may not even had heard the proposal. So, abandoned along with the watchtower itself,
Celedir strove with fears that
Gladhron had run after
Gwestion, either as a truer indication of no faith in his brother, or maybe some belated remorse over missing all the ‘excitement’. The worst case scenario of course was that he’d gone to aid his sibling dispatch with the other Man. Then both might come back to finish him off together. Potentially with other scouts of the enemy that they might be in league with …
Grey eyes pierced the mist, grateful that the ship was in view from the window as well. At least by Elvish reckoning. With fingers poised, and arrow set,
Celedir scanned the vicinity for
Gwestion and
Gwandhyra. He traced the progress of
Gladhron with a greater ease, for that Man had left the most recently. Then his keen ear caught the sound of a very alien bird in the vicinity. In the opposing direction to where he could track
Gladhron and the clear whinny of horses .. The Elf released the breath he had been holding, and lowered his aim. He ought keep watch as he could over both sets of folk, but .. who knew if he would be granted such an opportunity like this again ?
He had volunteered to remain in the tower and keep watch, for there was some thing in the tower he had been already watching over. A considerable time he had spent in the company of the three seeming Rangers, longer than he previously had spent from his secret. And so, taking time to steal up another floor in the tower, he inched open the trapdoor into the attic. Thankfully naught seemed to have gone ill up there during his absence. As he approached the swaddled blanket bundle, an eruption of dark hair spilt from one end, and the young Elf squatted down on risen ankles. He tilted his head, edged closer, and sank down until he lay beside the covered form of his affection.
“
No-one’s going to harm you, not while I’m around.”
The first line of a song that she had ever sung him, now he offered up to comfort her in return.
“
No-one’s going to harm you, no sir, not while I’m around.
Demons are prowling everywhere nowadays
I’ll send them howling, I don’t care. I’ve got ways.
No-one’s going to hurt you, no-one’s going to dare.
Others can desert you, not to worry, whistle: I’ll be there.
Demons will charm you with a smile for a while, but in time ..
Nothing can harm you, not while I’m around.
Not to worry, not to worry I may not be smart but I ain’t dum.
I can do it, put me to it, show me something I can overcome
Not to worry mum ….” ***
How long he lay there, mulling over the same old lullaby, basking in her company, he could not have measured, save in the slowly growing comfort that it brought to find her yet alive, and in the slowly growing dread that came of the low rasping breath she spewed in choked, intermittent sputters. He was glad at least she had not gotten any worse while he had been exploring the arrival of the three unexpected Rangers. She did not though seem to have gotten any better. And then a clatter, heavy footfalls and a thud. Someone was headed up the stairs of the tower !
Gladhron ? Perhaps ?
With a last pained glance at the vulnerable treasure he would wish to not forsake,
Celedir rose on shaking arms and then trembling legs. How he managed to lift the trap door and make it down the ladder without falling was some fortune beyond his comprehension. And so too was what might have happened to the Ranger, for
Gladhron it definitely was below, and injured. Thankfully then less observant than he might have else been, to note the direction of the Elf’s return.
Trying to act as unconcerned and nonchalant as was entirely implausible, the young silver haired Elf slowly edged closer to the Mortal, as though he were some growling beast that dare alone would pet. He crossed the room as though it was awash with sleeping lions instead of one exhausted Ranger, and dared not even check whether he'd remembered to close the door behind him to the secret loft room.
“
What happened to you ?”
Celedir asked, surveying the Man for the extent of the damage done, and entirely having forgotten in his surprise that the Elf had sworn to keep watch, if not cover the Rangers with bow and arrow, from the tower window ..
**(
Lyrics credited to 'Not while I'm around', from the musical, Sweeney Todd)