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It's hard to feel anger in here. The halls are so vast, and the tapestries of Time make you see what an insignificant part one Elf can play in the world. Namo's insights are so profound, his silences so revealing. Emotions are a bit embarrassing for me.
So when I heard Meleth's goodbye, I didn't feel how I would have expected to, learning she is wed and with child, and all that we began in Gondolin will never come to be. I can't blame her. I never wanted her to be alone. I am sorry that I will not see her again until the Last Ship - if ever. But perhaps it will make it easier, when I'm out there again. Looking at her would hurt.
... Anyway she did say she loved him less. Choke on that, Lord Glorfindel.
Something tells me I'm going to be in here a while.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, January 9th, 2005
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Wednesday, November 24th, 2004
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| Time: | 9:27 pm. |
| Mood: |  pessimistic. |
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So now the king has been attacked! Why am I not surprised? Perhaps because this seems to have been the worst year in Gondolin's history. Beasts from Morgoth, a mine collapse, drought, angry Ents, Feanorians, murder, Meleth hates me ... I was never entirely certain that I believed in that whole Doom of the Noldor bit, but this has convinced me.
Now Lord Maeglin is lord commander. Oh, that should improve matters drastically! Soon all of Gondolin shall run like a labour camp. Like the mines.
I cannot let Meleth stay here. This city is falling apart. Madmen and dead men and Valar only know what else. Even if she will not have me with her, I must convince her to leave her lady's service. Idril could be next in line to be killed! I will not have Meleth come between Idril and a knife.
The Moles say the pass has been sealed until spring. How shall I keep her safe all winter?
Ai Elbereth, I might have to marry her. Soon. O.O
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Wednesday, July 14th, 2004
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Wednesday, March 31st, 2004
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| Time: | 8:47 am. |
| Mood: |  busy. |
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It's a relief to find that the soliders of the Great Gate are slightly more in control of themselves than those who are running free at home. But I always preferred the Gate to the House of the Fountain. Everything is so structured and methodical and efficient; the city is rather a madhouse in comparison.
And then there are the towers. I've begun taking inventory of the larder, so I've not yet had the chance to go up - but there is comfort, at least, in knowing that I can. I am not quite sure who to thank for regaining the use of my leg - the Valar, or Lord Enerdhil? Or Meleth, for her hope and faith?
Regardless, I have it, even if I can't lift my right arm past my waist.
I don't suppose I could persuade Meleth to stay out here with me. Well, it would involve a lot of fuss and bother; she might have to leave the Lady's household, which she probably wouldn't want to do.
Besides, I suppose there's no guarantee that I shall be allowed to remain here.
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| Time: | 8:58 pm. |
| Mood: |  aggravated. |
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Murder! Well, why not, when we let every stranger who passes by into the city. Manwe's Breath, what's wrong with this city? Didn't we build those walls for a reason? They're there to keep Meleth everyone safe, not trap us in with some savage killer.
I never liked the looks of that Feanorian. At least, the one time I saw him in the marketplace. So ... inscrutable. I expect he's hiding something. I had best warn Meleth to stay away from him. It shouldn't surprise me at all if he were behind this killing.
Not to mention the minstrel from Doriath. Ai Valar, I can only imagine what sort of practices they have.
At any rate, it looks as though healers are going to be even more in demand than usual, what with homicidal foreigners rampaging through the city. It's a good thing I've decided to become one.
... I suppose I should see about finding someone to teach me.
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Tuesday, December 30th, 2003
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He is a very odd choice of lover for my lord - if, indeed, they are still lovers. I find him cool, perhaps a bit abrasive; though he was certainly courteous enough to me today, he is a stern taskmaster in the mines. But I will not think on those, not now, not now.
There is something about his manner that lingers on your mind - an impression that he said something, or implied something, or thought something that escaped you entirely. There is an emptiness to his speech, almost - as though each word was carefully analyzed and rehearsed before being spoken. He is altogether quite grim, and I cannot begin to imagine what draws him to Lord Ecthelion.
And his voice! I find it very unsettling. It is like something out of a dream ...
At any rate, he agreed to make Meleth's ring, so I am certain it will be of the highest quality.
...
Did I forget Tindariel's request?
Damn!
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Friday, December 26th, 2003
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| Time: | 5:27 pm. |
| Mood: | frustrated. |
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I cannot stand defeat! And yet I am forced to face it again and again - for his sake, for her sake, by my own foolish vows and promises and desires - when it is swiftly becoming clear that it is not the will of Arda that I should heal.
I know that I am a soldier, and my body is in the service of the city and my House - I know that it is not my place to act upon my own will, but that which is required of me - I know I should not give up -
But it would be easier to act a soldier if they would but treat me as one! Instead they are kind and patient and sympathetic without faith - or hurt and angry and frustrated without understanding. If one could but look at me with steel and true purpose and without fear -
Lord Ecthelion is not even here.
At least Meleth is, for whatever purpose that serves.
Whoever heard of a healing stone, anyway?
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Monday, December 22nd, 2003
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It should have been one of the happiest moments of my life - Meleth, Meleth, Meleth - and still I have managed to ruin it utterly. And by so foolish a thing! Tickling, for Ulmo's sake - how often have I hassled my sisters by that very means?
But I was so helpless.
I don't want to see Lord Ecthelion - though I've small doubt that hearing of Meleth shall please him, I don't want to see the disappointment on his face when I am dragged in by a dog. But at least I may repay all his patience with my injuries in this small way - I shall give up my position as his esquire.
Oh, bloody Void.
I shall tell him of the political protest that Mallos mentioned as well. I don't expect any of the other fools in this household thought to mention it to him.
However shall he get along without me?
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Sunday, December 14th, 2003
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I don't know that I can stand any more of this. This bloody dog can do more than I can - a dog! What does that make me? Not even so much as an animal.
I feel so incomplete. For pity's sake, Iluvatar, Valar, whatever's out there - if I am going to heal, then let it be done, and if I am not, then let me die. But not this, this half-life. For what am I cursed to this? What have I ever done?
I've not even been to war.
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Tuesday, November 4th, 2003
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| Subject: | Changes |
| Time: | 6:19 pm. |
| Mood: |  weird. | | Music: | Rogion and Meneliel squealing .... |
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How very strange ... A week ago my sister hardly ventured out of the library, and now she's getting married? And to Rogion, no less. Well, I hope they make each other happy ... somehow ...
(But for my Varda's sake, couldn't they have waited until Meleth was sober before making that particular announcement?)
I've seen passing glimpses of my lord, but I've learned that on days when the liquor and love flows so freely it's better not to keep too close an eye on what he's doing. Until the festivities are ending, at least, when someone shall have to steer him in the general direction of his chambers. (Unless, of course, he's lodging elsewhere for the night.) I admit, I feel a bit uneasy about not seeing to him myself -- but I do trust that someone shall offer aid when if it is needed.
Elemmakil is dancing.
Dancing.
o_0
(I wonder if he's been drinking? It's impossible to tell. I swear that Elf can knock back a keg without flinching -- and still walk upright after.)
I hope Meleth remembers that I can't dance ...
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Monday, October 27th, 2003
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| Time: | 4:36 pm. |
| Mood: |  moody. |
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Oh, Valar, she's come back. I'm in no state to be sociable -- though I suppose it can hardly matter now, since I've already offended her.
I can't remember saying a word at supper last night; but Lord Ecthelion was unusually quiet as well. If he noticed my unhappiness, his only remedy was a suggestion that I spend some time at my music -- then again, I have noticed that seems to be his solution for everything. As though I could just blow all my troubles out of this damn flute.
Why has she come here? Surely she said all that needed to be said last night.
I hope she's not expecting me to prance out and greet her.
(Scratch Remedy #1 off the list.)
I'll tell Harandur to bring her out here, to the courtyard. It seems to be the setting for so many pleasant occasions.
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Saturday, October 18th, 2003
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| Time: | 7:41 pm. |
| Mood: | cynical. |
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"Will your Lord be present?"
It seems he is never far from Meleth's mind. It was my own stupidity and pride, I suppose, which led me to believe she might be giving me her attention for my own sake. No, it is for him -- though she claims to forsake her feelings, though she fears the very sight of him, still she cannot let him go.
It is much more difficult to stand by and watch her love him when she is standing before me, pale and lovely like a glimmer of rain. It is so easy, alone in my bed, to resign myself to this -- to this mere watching; so easy to think of how I shall make her happy by giving her the heart that she desires.
It is easier to love her, then, when I am not in her presence and falling constantly into love with her, this horrible endless falling.
And on top of it all, there's this damned remedy and my damned paralysis (and never the damned twain shall meet).
Oh, to Everlasting Darkness with it all, anyway. And Harandur, too.
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Friday, October 10th, 2003
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I suppose in times of a bleak outlook one will search all the harder for distraction -- but it seems to me a matter most strange ...
In Pengolodh's library I came upon a healer's account of the Battle of Lammoth, the first that Fingolfin's host fought upon Middle-Earth. It was naught but pages and pages of wound descriptions, of curatives that succeeded in each case, of those that did not. There was a list of the casualities also.
And nowhere in the text could I find mention of this Arakano, son of Fingolfin. A strange oversight, for a record of such obvious thoroughness. Elemmakil claimed him "lost" at Lammoth ... Now that I think on it, it is a strange choice of words. His death is not for certain, then; was he perhaps captured, taken to Morgoth? Or quite literally lost, in the strange land under darkness?
Or was it some strange injury of which they had no understanding, and thus could not chronicle? Some estrangement of his mind or spirit, perhaps ... While I am knee-deep in records anyway, there is no reason not to keep an eye out for this other, trivial, yet intriguing matter.
My conversation with Lord Ecthelion seemed to go well -- as well as be expected, at any rate. I have put the idea before him, now I need only to let it grow upon his thought. It appears that Meleth has taken it upon herself to help me -- she will come by, at times. Time shall see everything to its proper end.
I could think myself noble for this sacrifice, but I find it would take more effort than I am willing to put out at the moment. I fall back only on what I have always believed, despite what others say; in some matters, it is better not to try at all, than to put your heart through the suffering of failure and defeat.
I shall see her often, at least ... Even though I grudge the sight to all others.
The candle at my bedside wanes, and I know I shall sleep before long. It is soft and curious music that comes from my lord's chambers tonight ...
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Tuesday, October 7th, 2003
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"There are things I wish for.. but you couldn´t help me. None could, save the Valar themselves ..."</i>
We'll see about that.
I know what she wishes for, of course. The same as everyone else; to see again those lost to her, to return to better times, to find love.
Well, I can't bring her father to life and I've no way of returning her to Nevrast or to Aman -- but I can get her Ecthelion. Simple matter, really, of arranging for them to meet often. How could anyone not fall in love with her?
Anyway, wouldn't it be easier to make this one effort and see her happy forever, than to spend a lifetime trying to climb onto his pedestal?
And Iluvatar forbid that I should become a burden to her. I'm that to enough people already.
Now, what by the gates of Angband is the matter with Rogion?
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Tuesday, September 30th, 2003
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If he'd come just a little closer, I'd knock that smirk off his smug face. Arrogant little half-breed orphan. If he expects me to just roll over and die so that he can play like he's important at Lord Ecthelion's side, he's going to be sorely disappointed.
I hope.
He wouldn't be half so cocky if I could use both my hands. All the more reason to heal as swiftly as possible.
And just what are these rumours about me and Meleth? Surely he's not talking about that kick one of the healers apparently found amusing enough to discuss with Rogion. It was obviously an accident, for Varda's sake.
Damn it, why doesn't he just go away ... Before it's too obvious that I can't walk on my own ...
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Sunday, September 28th, 2003
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| Time: | 11:30 am. |
| Mood: | grumpy. |
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It's so ironic, isn't it. How many times, as his esquire, did I help Lord Ecthelion into his armor, out of it again, into his ceremonial garments, into his bed when he was too drunk to see straight ... Now here he is, tucking me into bed like a bloody child. It would be very touching, our relationship coming full circle and all that, except that it's just not supposed to be that way! I'm the bloody vassal!
I want to see Meleth.
Tomorrow, then. Hopefully.
I wonder if, while we are alone like this, I should tell Lord Ecthelion about Meleth, about her feelings and what happened? Likely he is more knowledgable about these so-called matters of the heart than I am. But ...
No. Not yet, at least. Likely he has enough concerns for now. Another time. I'll tell him another time.
Now, I just want to sleep, and pretend for a little while that nothing is the way it is.
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Sunday, September 21st, 2003
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Evidently there is some elaborate art to the way in which a library is arranged. Or else my lord takes very little care for arrangement at all. In the one shelf I sit before, I have found a text on Sindarin marriage customs (extremely dusty), the recipe of a balm which soothes torn and tender muscles (quite battered and smudged), an old guard report from Vinyamar, a rather sketchy map of West Beleriand, and a thick collection of anonymous poetry.
All very fascinating, and not at all helpful. Time to crawl along to the next bay.
Oh, bother. Poetry, poetry, poetry. Music sheets. Guide to proper instrument care. Diamond grading. An account of the first rising of Isil. A terrible portrait of Glorfindel. An account of the Mereth Atherdad.
Eh, what's this buried underneath the poetry? Looks like it's never even been touched.
Ah. Laws and Customs Among the Eldar. Well, that would certainly account for a few things.
Valar save me, more poetry, more music. I suppose I can't have expected much else from this House. Hmm ... Then again, perhaps I shouldn't dismiss these so quickly; healing is a strange and varied art, after all. Perhaps there is some worth in words. No harm in taking these to look them over later. My lord's music has been known to have strong effects on people. (Though not quite as strong as his liquor.)
It must be a lovely day outside. I can watch all the dust dancing in that small beam of light coming through the window. A very warm beam of light, as a matter of fact. Mmm. I think I'm going to fall asleep.
...
A lonelier sleep than the last one.
I wonder if Meleth knows where I am?
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Saturday, September 20th, 2003
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It's easier than I thought it would be, to be back at the House of the Fountain. Of course, that could be because it's all but empty at the moment, with construction resuming on the fountain. My lord suggested that I might want to stay at the house of my parents during my convalescence, but an hour's vist with them reminded me why I declined that particular offer.
Still, it was good to hear news of my brother. His house was finished while I was the in mines, it seems -- now he and Indil are apparently getting down to the business of begetting children (thank you, Mother). I trust that he drags himself out of his chambers long enough to tend to my lord's stables (and my horse).
My sisters are all doing just splendid, of course -- particularly the little ones, according to Mother. (But then, I knew they were talented at covering their tracks, sweet-faced little beasts that they are.) I've forgotten everything else, but it was nothing I hadn't heard before.
And here I sit in my bedchambers, having a staring contest with the house-carl because he has orders to assist me in whatever I want to do, but nothing that I want to do is remotely possible. The man is brilliant; he hasn't blinked once. I wonder what he's thinking? Probably feeling glad that he isn't a useless gimp who slurs when he's speaking and drools when he's not.
Oh, right; records of healing, that's what I need to look for. Strange, I don't know that I've ever been in my lord's library. Though come to think of it, I don't think he ever has either.
I wonder, will the house-carl drag or carry me down the stairs?
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narminco's journal
anxious.
hopeful.
curious.
bored.