PART FIVE: Between
Isoldis tended to the sleeping Lord Mittanyaro with every concern for the next few days, yet having no tonics, no provisions, no fire, no Lembas and hardly any hope...he was at the mercy of an unwritten fate. In a weakened condition, yet physically able to continue her journey to the Golden Woods, Isoldis could not leave the Lord alone and defenceless in his somnolence. Conversely, she couldn’t take him with her either, for lack of any horse to carry him, or wood to craft a stretcher that might drag him or brute strength to cast him over her shoulder as might be the habit and treatment towards injured Eldar upon the battle field. Nor could the lady awaken him, as much as she tried and thus she was suspended in limbo at the cave mouth, beyond the knowing of any passing traveller, out of sight and out of mind; Lord Mittanyaro clinging to life by his fingertips.
Of course Isoldis couldn’t leave him! Yet she was also angry at him for following her. And the more she thought about it, the angrier it made her. She had not asked him to risk his life and her escape from Imladris had been specifically shaped from her desperate desire to put no more elves in jeopardy! Especially his and now look what had happened! And who would be blamed for it? Would her decision to travel alone have been marked differently if she were a sire instead of a maiden? Why did Lords feel the need to wrap her in swaddling? She carried no weapon sharper than her mind, yet in the words of her father, battles were always won by cunning over brute strength. Was she not an equal? Was she not firstborn? Was she not of Noldor?
Sitting opposite the sleeping Lord as a crimson dusk spread across the Eregion horizon like drizzles of runny paint over wet silk, Isoldis finally closed her eyes to rest after months without. Easily, her mind sinks into a deep pit of unquiet where she lifts her head and opens her eyes moments later, startled to find herself in an unknown region, standing at the shores of a wide estuary, the rolling hills all about her, the horizons thick with ancient forest and the unfamiliar scent of the blossom Aeglos carried swiftly upon the breeze. She is dressed in fine raiment and in the clearing ahead, the figure of a young Lord stands golden haired and instantly recognisable.
Walking to meet the young Lord Anglachelm, Isoldis somehow perceives their surroundings to be the place and time of Beleriand, after the fall of Turgon’s tower and the destruction of Anglachelm’s home, the hidden city of Gondolin. There is no doubt the lady is caught in a dream, yet her mind is still sharp enough to undo the fabricated possibilities of this occasion, for it would be thousands of years into the future before Isoldis would be conceived by her parents, yet, Anglachelm is real enough for her to glance upon and talk with the Lord in his formative years.
Granted easy access to this dreaming state, Isoldis knows that he has recently settled at Eglarest, from which he regularly forms sorties to search and find surviving Gondolindrim, travelling far south across the region of Arvernien to Nan-tathren where The Mouths of the Sirion gape westward. Such raw courage and palpable compassion is already evident in the young Lord, Isoldis bearing witness to the very founding of Bar en Vanimar, and the noble deeds to which the young Lord Anglachelm shall gain the reputation of a king...in time. One day far into the future many Eldar shall come to regard him as such and he shall hold easy governance at his court, yet Isoldis cannot help but furrow her brow upon these observations, although his courage is being proven in the past and his deeds shall become well known and his reputation undisputed, the lady cannot help but question his actions towards her.
It was Anglachelm who barred her from leaving Imladris, it was Anglachelm who doubled the sentries at the exits and it was Anglachelm who assigned Lord Mittanyaro to be her guard in spite of her pleas to the contrary, yet...what authority did Anglachelm truly have over Isoldis?
The Lady does not take refuge in the house of Vanimar nor has she sworn fealty to Lord Anglachelm in any capacity and though they once claimed to be good friends, presently she finds herself debating whether Anglachelm’s actions are as noble and benevolent as were so obvious in Beleriand. Benevolence bears strong relation to tyranny and the two are hardly distinguishable, accepting that benevolence will admit it, whilst tyranny does not. Isoldis debates this reasoning with the young Lord Anglachelm as they stand among the tall grasses, yet all too swiftly she is transported to another time and place...where she meets Lord Anglachelm once more, at the Lady Galadriel’s mirror.
The sound of falling water cools the air, fragranced with the unmistakable perfume of Elanor whilst all around the lush foliage glitters in the soft light with beads of dew, as though diamonds have been sewn into the folds of every leaf, the stream running a fast path of gold and pearls at their feet. Isoldis is dressed in ceremonial attire and perceives this dreaming-moment to be the future, uncertain in its fulfilment, yet entirely possible, much like the revelations in the Lady’s mirror, and as she looks to the Lord Anglachelm she sees that youth has left him and the weight of six thousand years is now carved into his features, and what of his raw courage and obvious compassion? Has the foundation of his Beleriand past weakened and crumbled underfoot, or are they still solid within him?
Isoldis steps up onto the stone platform and moves around the basin as the Lord approaches. Picking up the silver pitcher, she pours a measure of water into it, saying then...
'What visions shall the mirror reveal, oh Lord of swans? Dare you gaze upon your future?'
The Lord is brusque and grabs the silver pitcher to add his own measure of water before peering at what is yet to be made certain. His visions cause him to shake his head with grief and despair whilst reaffirming his intention to protect Elven virtues. Isoldis looks upon the Lord whose head is buried for some moments in his hands, remembering the teachings of the Galadhrim: Our actions alone determine the future; the mirror can only augur possibility.
Of course Isoldis is more than aware that it was not Anglachelm’s desire to reach the mirror but her own, and by her dreaming of a possible future, she considers and reflects the query of what Lord Anglachelm has to do with it? Past and present choices create futures, and so much of Lord Anglachelm’s choices have come to affect Isoldis’ future. Was her dream trying to tell her something not yet reasoned in her conscious mind? Suddenly all the threads where leading back to Lord Anglachelm: Her missing lute; the disappearance of her friend Arvaryar and his mute sister; Lord Mittanyaro’s vanishing and subsequent injuries. Suddenly Isoldis was realising that Lord Anglachelm had much greater involvement in her fate than she had previously considered and now he was even walking through her dreams!
Did he seek to dominate every part of her? Must the Lady be a caged bird, to sing at the Lord’s command alone? Surely he could appreciate her song better if he only allowed her free flight! As she lifted a hand to point at the Lord in accusation, he grabs her hand and speaks into her face,
“I shall find...YOU!”
Isoldis’ eyes flicker open with shock and she returns to the mouth of the cave, Lord Mittanyaro unmoving in the drowsy sky. The Lady reflects upon her strange dream as she attends to the Lord, unsure if she has been sleeping a few moments or an entire day. She can do no more than gather scraps of wood and try to keep them alight for the coming darkness. Even the starlight seems not to reach beyond its blanket of night, yet the Lady’s frustrations might be heard far away as she fails to ignite the wood and then, suddenly from some place beyond her vision, she hears the sound of horse’s hooves...approaching.
