In the Light

Dolthafaer was not sure how long he had been sitting on the porch, carving sticks into arrow shafts.  There was a neat stack of them at his side, and he was surrounded by (and covered in) wood shavings.  It was an easy task – repetitive, calming.  He was so absorbed in the work that he did not notice the sound of approaching footsteps. 

The knife stilled when a figure stood beside him.  The dark-haired elf craned his neck to identify the intruder, squinting in the sunlight.  He bit back a sigh when he recognized her and set aside his knife.

“Suilad, Fáorië.”

The elleth smiled lightly, though she did not turn to face him, instead staring forward towards the hillside.  The warrior seemed troubled, as she so often did when she sought his company.

“I wonder if you’ve come here to take in the sights of Imladris… or perhaps, like others these days, there is something that lingers in your mind.”

She sighed through her nose.  Dolthafaer smiled a little as he rose to his feet, brushing the wood shavings from his clothes. 

“A little of both, I should say.”

Fáorië glanced at him, barely moving her head.

“I hope I haven’t intruded upon your private time.”

“No, no.  I was making some arrows.  I like to be productive while I brood.” And he was very productive these days.  “Is something on your mind?”

Fáorië nodded once and turned her eyes forward again, all hints of a smile faded from her mouth.  Her brow began to furrow.  Dolthafaer folded his hands behind his back and turned his eyes to the view before him as he waited for her to speak, stamping down a small spark of irritation.  He knew why she was here.  Once more she would darken his day with talk of the Man who had cost him a huntress and peace of mind.

“Dolthafaer, you and I have not spoken much without intention.  We converse for brief periods… but only of a mutual friend.  I wonder at times if our relationship shall lead into friendships beyond the foundation we’ve made over the Man your company has come to abhor.  Even now, I come to discuss him further from our previous meeting.”

Dolthafaer turned his head slightly to regard Fáorië with a raised eyebrow. 

“I have spoken to him recently,” she continued.  “And now I have come to speak to you.”

She turned to face him fully. 

“I told you before to feel free to come to me if your troubles with Thendryt continue,” he said, with slight reluctance.  “It is not a favorite subject of mine, but if I can help…”

He trailed off with a shrug.  Fáorië held one hand over the other before her in a polite stance, her expression calm but her eyes firm.  He picked another wood shaving from his glove.

“When I speak to Thendryt, I sense his secretive nature. He speaks little, he shares little… and last we spoke, I felt a similar wall between you and I as I feel with him. Forgive me if my words accuse, as I do not intend them to… but I wonder if there are secrets you keep as well.”

She furrowed her brow, but kept her eyes firmly on Dolthafaer, as if searching – or challenging.  Dolthafaer tilted his chin up a fraction at the accusation, but a small smile touched the corner of his mouth. 

“It has not been my intention to build a wall between you and I.  I admire you, and I enjoy your company, brief and… dutiful though it has been.  But we all have our secrets, and as you mentioned – we are not close.”  He unclasped his hands and held out his arms.  “What secrets would you have me share?”

“Indeed, each has secrets that they desire to keep hidden away – myself included.  Though mine have never threatened the safety of others.  Mine do not cause pain.” 

She turned away briefly, and he watched her, silent and waiting. 

“Thendryt is a danger,” she continued.  “But only to himself.  I sense it, for I had seen it before in the Hithaeglir.  As we travelled together across the snowy peaks, he and I were constantly reminded of the struggles we faced long ago.”

Dolthafaer smiled slightly, without humor, recalling his own travels with the Man in the Hithaeglir – but he did not interrupt.

“You have his journal.  You have held it, as I had long ago.  I chose not to read it at the time, for I believed he would change his path to become the man he desired to be, and yet…”

“You regret that now?”

“I regret returning it to him – I regret returning that which holds all his sorrows instead of destroying it.  He had warned me of the shadows I would come to see should I have chosen to read it.  I was wrong in thinking those days of darkness had passed. How naïve of me to think that a Man like him could battle against his demons and win.  Thendryt – he doesn’t win.  He survives, but he never wins.”

Fáorië turned to face him once again, and Dolthafaer eyed her sidelong, curious.  This was a different tune than the one that she had sung for him before. In the past, she had been full of fire, hope, and confidence in her kinsman that had – at the time – belied every interaction that Dolthafaer had ever had with the Man.

“You believe it – Thendryt – a lost cause, then?”

“A lost cause, no.  But he is lost.”

“Interesting,” he murmured.  “You think, then, that you need to fight this battle for him.”

She shook her head.

“No. The battle he fights is not mine to stand against. But often he forgets of those who seek to help him become the man he had expressed he wanted to be.  He forgets that I am here. That Lilleduil, Adanmiel, and many other stand by him. I wish to understand him – to better aid him with his troubled past.”

Dolthafaer remembered the stained and dog-eared journal, smudged with ink and blood, words upon words upon words scratched in desperation across yellowed pages.  He had read every page, trying to identify the danger that lurked in Thendryt.  He understood what Fáorië scrabbled for in the dark.

“I do not believe that,” he told her.  Firm.  “I think he knows that you are there -- and Adanmiel, and Lilleduil, and the others.”

The warrior looked at him suddenly, her eyes widening with surprise. 

“Not long ago, he asked me if I showed Lilleduil his journal.  He was… vexed.  He recoils from the idea of his kinsmen knowing him so intimately.  It seems to me that concern was shown, that help was offered – but he rejects it.  There is a difference between not seeing the hand that is offered and turning away from it.”

His words seemed to have an effect on Fáorië.  She lowered her gaze to the ground, clearly conflicted and struggling with understanding.  Dolthafaer pressed on.

“And if I am to believe that Thendryt is no villain – that the darkness in him is directed to himself, and no other – then he might be trying to protect you.”

Fáorië blinked.

“Protect…” she trailed off, hesitating.  “Dolthafaer.  If you were in my position, knowing all that you do – what would you do?”

For a moment, Dolthafaer did not know what to say.  The question made him uncomfortable.  All this time – and even now – he wanted nothing more than to drive Thendryt from the Valley, far enough away that whatever threat he posed would be no more.  There were times when he regretted letting the Man walk away from their struggle in the blizzard.  He had been nothing but a thorn in his side from the moment their paths had crossed.

He owed nothing to Thendryt.

Less than nothing.

Why, then, did he allow himself to be drawn into this discussion with Fáorië?  Why did he speak against his kinsmen when they cried for his blood?  Why had he not shot him down a hundred times before?

He suddenly recalled a conversation with Yrill, not long past, when he had explained to her the purpose behind the message that had caused Thendryt to cast his stone. 

I wanted him to know that I was aware of the madness within him. I thought it would prevent him from returning, at best.

Returning to Imladris?

Yes.  He cannot hide if we remove the shadows.

I find fault with your plan, captain. Yrill had smiled bright.  You have a history with Thendryt, but I see now, he is not your enemy.  You care… even for a mortal.

Dolthafaer had been bewildered.

Care?

You would have him walk in the light.

Dolthafaer took a deep breath.

“Knowing all that I do… I would not abandon him.  I would stay by his side.  I would offer him my hand, again and again, in hopes that when he is ready to take it… he will.  He is on a dark path, fraught by demons we have never faced.  He thinks he must walk it alone.”

He hesitated for a moment, frowning.

“That is not true,” he continued. “But I do not know what can be done to show him otherwise.  Until now, he has been strong enough to survive on his own.  Perhaps he will have a change of heart when that path grows darker and his strength fails him.”

“Or perhaps not. He may be consumed. He may fall to his own demise. I fear for him.”

“We speak in metaphor and riddles, Fáorië. To speak more simply – if madness takes him, and he starts doubting the world around him… strive to be something real in a world of shadows.  Something he can recognize and turn to.”

“How? At times like these I, like him, am lost.  What can be said?  What can be done?”

Dolthafaer shrugged. 

“I do not think you can anticipate these things.  Just be there when that moment comes, and trust in yourself that you will know what to do and what to say.”

Fáorië sighed through her nose and lowered her head a bit, her gaze falling southward.  “Dolthafaer…” she began, and then raised her eyes again, a new warmth in her expression.  “Thank you.  For your words, for your company.”

Dolthafaer smiled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.  Part of him still felt uneasy, conflicted, but whatever Thendryt was – threat, danger, enemy – Fáorië was not. 

“You are welcome to it.”

The warrior held her hand over her heart and bowed her head politely.  She began to walk away, but only took a few steps before stopping and turning back to him.

“One more thing.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I had intended to request Thendryt’s journal from you… but I have changed my mind.  I do not want it.  And I wonder… what do you intend to do with it?”

“I intend to keep it.”

“To what purpose?”

“I told him it is insurance to keep him from causing trouble.”

“Hm… a threat?” she considered this, then shook her head.  “No.  A consequence.”

“Precisely.  Trust me – in my dealings with Thendryt, this is one of our more… gentle consequences.”

“I understand. Perhaps your method will achieve greater results than what I wished to have done with it.  I will leave you then, Dolthafaer. And I thank you again.”

Dolthafaer inclined his head.

“I wish you luck.”