PART 2A: THE TRAGIC TALE OF NARMALETH, DAUGHTER OF LAERDAN
~Lothlórien~
Thibinoriel was sitting in her study pouring over several tomes of lore when a visitor came to her door. She recognized him immediately. 'Neldordil, how very good to see you,' she greeted the visitor. 'I hope all is well.'
'Indeed it is, lady,' the tracker replied. 'Gildor Inglorion has been reunited with his companions, none worse the wear except for some temporary effects from over indulgence in strong drink.'
'I am very glad to hear it,' remarked Thibinoriel. 'Is there another reason for your visit?'
'There is, lady, yes,' Neldordil answered. 'My search for Gildor took me to distant lands previously unknown to me, and I saw something that puzzles me greatly.'
'Please tell me what you saw,' she asked.
'I can do better than that,' he replied. Neldordil set a piece of parchment in front of her upon which he had made a sketch in charcoal. 'Do you know what this is?' he asked.
'This is very curious,' Thibinoriel remarked as she gazed at the drawing. 'Where did you see this?'
'I spied it in the northern reaches of the former kingdom of Rhudaur east of Fornost and west of the Troll-fells,' he answered. 'It seemed very like in size and purpose to the Argonath that may be found on the northern border of Gondor depicting Isildur and Anárion. However, I cannot identify these two figures.'
'Have you any guesses?' Thibinoriel asked.
'I deem the character on the left to be the Witch-king of Angmar,' he answered. 'If that is so, perhaps the figure on the right is the Witch-queen of Angmar?' He seemed very uncertain.
Thibinoriel smiled. 'Those are certainly possibilities,' she replied, 'but I do not recall any tales of the Witch-queen of Angmar.'
'It was merely a guess,' he said blushing. 'Do you know who they are?'
'I believe I know who the lady is, but am uncertain about the lord,' answered Thibinoriel.'
'Will you tell me?' he asked anxiously.
'I will,' she said, 'but not without some refreshment first. May I pour you a goblet of wine?'
'That is very kind, lady,' Neldordil replied, 'but after observing Lord Gildor's state after a night of drinking I must decline.'
'The key,' laughed Thibinoriel, 'is to drink in moderation. Those who cannot should not imbibe.'
'Wisely said, lady,' remarked the Silvan Elf.
She poured the wine into her goblet but, out of deference to her guest, filled it only halfway. After a sip or two she began her tale:
'This is not a story that one will hear told in the Hall of Fire in Imladris, nor during any festival or celebration in Lothlórien. It is a sad and tragic tale that when told, if ever it is, would likely be in whispers around a campfire somewhere in the wild on a cold winter evening.'
Neldoril moved to the edge of his seat, resting his elbows on the desktop and his chin in his hands.
~Events of the Second Age~
'This is the story of Narmaleth, daughter of Laerdan,' said Thibinoriel.
'Who was she?' asked the Silvan Elf.
'Patience, Neldordil, I will tell all in good time,' said Thibinoriel with a smile.
'I am sorry, lady,' said Neldordil. 'I will endeavor not to interrupt you.'
'The Elf-maid Narmaleth and her father Laerdan travelled from their home in Lindon to Eregion with the hope that she might learn the craft of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the Elven jewel-smiths.
Narmaleth was exceptionally gifted, even among the Noldor. Her beauty was often compared to that of Lady Galadriel, and her deftness of hand rivaled the greatest of the Mirdain, perhaps even Celebrimbor himself. Her ambition was unmatched by any of the Eldar since Fëanor.
Narmaleth had many admirers, but very few friends. There were even some, perhaps jealous of her beauty and skill, who secretly loathed her.
I happen to have a portrait of her. Would you like to see it?'
'I would!' answered Neldordil.
Thibinoriel stood, then walked across the room to pull the portrait from its place on a shelf. Between two ancient tomes was a small painting. She set the portrait before Neldordil then again took her seat.
'Is this a fair likeness?' asked the tracker.
'Can any painting do justice to a living person?' Thibinoriel asked rhetorically. 'To answer your question, no, not really,' she said with a frown.
'But Narmaleth appears fair indeed in this portrait!' Neldordil remarked.
'I suppose,' answered Thibinoriel, 'but I assure you that in life she was far more fair than even depicted in her portrait.
The Mírdain desired to create a place untouched by the decay of time, a veritable Eldamar in Middle-earth, and sought to do this by creating Rings of Power. They laboured for a great number of years but were unsuccessful.'
Thibinoriel remained silent for a moment to allow this thought take hold in Neldordil's thoughts.
'One day someone came to the Mírdain claiming to be an emissary of the Valar. He called himself Annatar, Lord of Gifts. With his instruction the Mírdain created many powerful artifacts. Then one day Annatar left, taking Narmaleth with him. Laerdan, her father, was understandably distraught.'
'That is a great pity,' Neldordil sadly remarked. 'What became of Narmaleth? Did Laerdan ever see his daughter again?'
'The events I just shared occurred before the War of the Last Alliance, before even the downfall of Númenor,' explained Thibinoriel. 'An Age had passed before Laerdan saw his daughter again. She, however, was greatly changed.
'The female figure on the right side of the colossus is Narmaleth?' asked Neldordil. 'I doubt you not, lady, but I find that very difficult to conceive.'
Thibinoriel continued her tale:
'Annatar was not an emissary from the Valar as he claimed. Gil-galad, Elrond, and Galadriel had greatly suspected as much, so much so that the High King prohibited Annatar entry into Lindon. Rather, Annatar was the Dark Lord Sauron in fair guise.
Some years later Sauron, now revealed as his true self, returned to Eregion with a great army. They destroyed Ost-in-Edhil, and slew all they could find. He demanded that Celebrimbor reveal the location of the Three Rings that the Elf had crafted in the years after Annatar's departure. When Celebrimbor refused, he was slain and his body hoisted upon a pole to be displayed as a banner before Sauron's armies.
'What a humiliating ending for a gifted artist!' cried Neldordil.
Thibinoriel wiped a tear from her cheek.
To be continued...
