It had been many years since Xanderian had last ridden these secret paths along the shoreline near Dol Amroth, but with a hint of memory and her keen eye the blazons were not impossible to find as she made her way down to the secret opening where the Caves of the Avorrim could be found. She made no attempt to hide from the elven sentries and marked them silently as she passed their invisible posts. She wished to ensure those she was visiting knew she was on her way and wished no trouble, to avoid unnecessary unpleasantness. Still she moved as quickly as she dared, her heart pounding in her ears at the very thought of what she may find. On reflection as she rode, she was unsure which emotion truly held sway in her heart.... anticipation or fear.
The cliffs and shores of this desolate stretch appeared empty, unless one followed a specific path, and then quite suddenly, the cave mouths appeared ahead assuming you had made no wrong turns and the inhabitants had no desire to hide from you. Though there had been no sentries posted in open sight, she knew full well they watched her and sent word of her arrival ahead to the wardens through secret means. Thus, when Xanderian arrived at the first wide cavern, a retinue of gray-clad Elves were waiting, hard-eyed and well armed. A grim silence held as they waited for her to dismount and approach, and only then did the unit commander call for her to halt. The hafts of ivory spears stood tall and straight in the hands of these wardens and would bar her way if she attempted to enter further without invitation.
The commander nodded to her curtly. "Hail, kinswoman. For what purpose do you seek the Avorrim?"
The huntress stood casually, ignoring the armed retinue as she bowed gently to the Commander then skipped all other pleasantries. "One of your scouts, some months ago came upon a man of Gondor wounded in the flotsam of the Bay. I have come to hear news of him, and to bear him homeward, alive or dead."
A ripple of unspoken emotion passed through the group or wardens: surprise, followed by confusion. The commander's face remained impassive as he regarded Xanderian with tempered politeness. "How came you by this knowledge? The Men of Gondor are not wont to meddle here, and if their bodies are cast upon the shore, what cause would we have to fetch them?"
Xanderian nodded, accepting that simple truth. The Avorrim had no direct dealings with either the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth or the corsairs who plied their trade along the coast below. "Your scout’s reasons I do not know, nor do I have any reason to think them less then compassionate. However, a man of your folk, of Noldor birth, bore him from the bloody shore and carried him towards the Haven here. Of this I am certain. I am Xanderian, the Monk of Osgilliath, Heartbreaker's Guide...if Gwaelion had been lifted by eagles and born across the silent sea to the west, I could mark and track their passage....and I would follow."
Her name and titles were known to the Elves of this place, and the commander nodded with freely given respect and a bit of caution. If this had been her sister, Xandilif, it would be an entirely different manner. "I know not how such information should reach you, but neither do I question your resolve. You are free to enter this place...though I cannot promise you will find that which you seek." With one gesture, the commander ordered the way unbarred and the door-wardens melting back into the sheltered alcoves until only their leader stood before Xan. As he stood aside, he inclined his head. "The Lady Dorthaneth has been told of your coming." The command went unspoken: seek audience with the Lady of this place first.
Xanderian bowed again...and slowly made her way through the switchbacks and darkfalls of the hidden caves, following secret blazons, until she came into the haven which had been carved from the living rock. She paused again as she looked at the graceful, precise architecture, marveling again with appreciation at her people's ability to strive so mightily to preserve a noble past, even when all they had ever known was coming to its close. That this sanctuary had many purposes just made it’s survival all the more impressive.
As Xanderian had anticipated, she saw the Lady Dorthaneth awaiting her on the glowing bridge. Moving to her directly, she went down to one knee before the servant of the Shipwright. "Hail to you, Captain of the Yacina. I do not seek to burden you or claim your indulgence, I have only come here on a personal matter."
Lit by carefully crafted and artfully concealed crystals, the caverns were cool and cast in blue shadows. Below the ever-present hush of the ocean against the cliffs, a soft sound could be discerned. Like the soft gasp of baited breath. This was a place of waiting...of secret unrest and passionate vigilance. Standing upon the high bridge which overlooked the spiral dwellings and branching footpaths, Dorthaneth cut a solemn figure: dressed in a dark blue gown and a gray veil which completely hid her hair and face, hers was the implacable silhouette of ancient patience. She did not stir or turn as Xanderian performed the expected obeisance. "Hail, Xanderian, Daughter of Misfortune. You speak a name which has no meaning so do not again," she warned, though no breath stirred her veil. Only some few of the contingent sent here by the Shipwright were aware of the Yacina and their goal of reclaiming Edhellond. Dorthaneth clasped her hands at the small of her back. "...I am told you seek a Man, or else his body, Kinslayer Spawn. You and your vile sister have always chased after the scraps of the Last Born…but you at least have a more courteous tongue, or do you simply lack her foolhardy madness?"
Xanderian ignored the sly insults. “I do seek a man, noble Dorthaneth...a man of Gondor by blood, but not of bearing. He is known as Hawke, but was named Gwaelion by his mother in memory of her own elleth blood. He is my companion through peace and war and I have come in search of him, I have come to bring him home."
A moment of silence passed, as if Dorthaneth was deciding whether or not to simply send Xanderian away. It was the honest passion in Xanderian's speech which swayed her. "There is no one by the name 'Hawk' dwelling in this haven. There is one son of Man among our number, however, and Aradil has by some strange happenstance or predestination named him Gwaelion, after the manner in which he found the boy surrounded by sea birds."
Xanderian bit her lip, knowing that weeping in relief at this moment was not well advised. "Clearly his mother, Merileth, who first called him by that name, protects her son still through the darkness and fire of this benighted age. How fares he, my lady? By your words, am I to assume that he yet lives?
The veiled visage turned to regard Xanderian. The circlet upon Dorthaneth's brow glimmered with the dark metallic sheen of star-metal. Her voice was not without kindness as she answered. "I am told he survived. His spirit lingered by a mere thread when his body was carried to this place. Aradil is the boy's rescuer and has taken Gwaelion as his ward. Seek him out and you will find your missing companion nearby, I deem."
Xanderian lowered her head in thanks. "I could not have dreamed for such tidings but three days ago, noble one. I shall fly to this Aradil at once and leave you in peace..."
A shrouded hand gestured towards the direction in which Aradil could be found. "His duties take him to the armory today." It was an unmistakable dismissal, and Dorthaneth returned to her vigil as if Xanderian no longer existed.
Xanderian was content to not exist in the resolute woman's eyes and gratefully sped in the direction she had indicated, her youth indicated by the fact she sprinted most of the way, artfully dodging those more regal and leisurely residents of the haven. She finally came up short before the guarded doors of the armory, arranging herself as best she could. Looking at a sentry she bowed again, voice tight with control. "I seek the scout Aradil. The Lady of this haven bid me seek him here..."
It was rare indeed to observe such spirited activity in these ancient halls and many who saw Xanderian or were passed by her turned to look or whisper. None had hindered her search however, and as she presented herself to the sentry who should appear at the doors but Aradil himself. With a raised hand, he curtailed the sentry's response, and the younger elda moved instead to secure the doors behind the scout captain as Aradil leveled his stern, cool gaze upon Xanderian. "I am Aradil. For what purpose does Dorthaneth send you to me...Xanderian." Her face was suddenly clear to him as the one he had seen in Hawk's dreams, and though his outward expression did not betray him, the light of recognition burned in his steel-grey eyes.
Xanderian began to speak, then stopped herself and bowed hastily, and began again, words tumbling over one another in a torrent as her control finally cracked under heavy emotion..."I have come...I have come for Gwaelion. I tracked your passage from the Bay and am told by the Lady that he lives....against all hope and dreams he lives. I am forever in your debt, Aradil of the Avorrim for saving his life and returning such a prize to me...for I have come at Gwaelion’s call..at her call, and fear I may still be dreaming a moonlit dream, may Elbereth have mercy on her poor servant…”
Though he did not stand on ceremony in the way that many of the eldar did, it was clear this was not an Elf who would take disrespect of any form lightly, and Xanderian's hasty bow was met with the expected inclination of his head. He forgave her its tardiness, however, since hers was the urgency of youth. As he sorted out the meaning of her outburst, her words came as no surprise. Aradil had foreseen this meeting and expected it this last moon or so...and dreaded it to some extent. The mention of 'returning' Gwaelion to her custody awoke a troubling anger in his breast. "I know why you have come, and who you seek. Though it took great toil and at times it seemed he would succumb to death despite all my skill, Gwealion lives. He is...not entirely whole."
Xanderian bit her lip. "I have no doubt of the pains you have taken to aid my urchin and my heart swells with gratitude for them...but what harm lingers upon him? What do you not say? Is he awake? May I go to him? May I?....Please?"
The man’s thin, somewhat arrogant brows furrowed faintly at the odd term of endearment. Urchin? Aradil's eyes remained guarded despite the obvious emotion in her voice. "...Accompany me." Without pausing to ensure that Xanderian was indeed keeping pace, he began to stride towards a downward-sloping incline which led to a flat and spacious section of the caverns used mainly for physical training and military drills. From the sidelines where Aradil came to a standstill, a group of scouts could be seen training with spears, taking turns defending and attacking with their fellows. Among them was a slightly shorter figure with long, dark hair, dressed in the simple grey tunic of the most common among the Avorrim. His movements lacked the innate grace and speed of an Elf, though he made up for this with spirit and seemed hardly the lesser for it.
Xanderian had been forcing herself to walk a measured pace behind Aradil when what she truly wished was to dash ahead of him or run circles around his slow gait. She smiled to herself for a moment, thinking she would never chide Eduwiges for her high spirits again. As she came into the training chamber however, she froze, feeling Hawke well before she picked him out from the others. Staring, she watched him move, healthy and strong, watched him bring the spear up on guard, just as she once taught him...and with a soft sob sank to her knees, arms wrapped tightly around herself with emotion.
The noise and action of physical training thankfully covered her outburst, and the young Man remained unaware of Xanderian's presence and of Aradil's watchful gaze. Not entirely without compassion, Aradil placeed a brief, somewhat awkward hand on her shoulder. Such a display of emotion was clearly out of his depth. "Comfort yourself with this scene, for it was many moons before he was able to stand, let alone move so freely."
The huntress struggled to regain her composure, and looked at Aradil with gratitude for his patience. "I have no doubt...I....I thought him dead, I thought that he must have been died....when I regained myself I could not feel him. I could not FEEL him. Now I know he was hidden by his precarious hold on life and the virtues of this haven. Now...now that I behold him....I have no words. Many will rejoice at his defiance of his doom...for many love him.”
Having offered what consolation he could, Aradil regarded Xanderian from his lofty height with a slight sneer. "For all the many you speak of and their love for him, is it not passing strange that none sought him until now," he murmured, warring with himself whether to feel joy that his ward's companions should now reclaim him...or spiteful that he must now relinquish the boon which was granted to him by virtue of discovery. The Noldo made a subtle gesture to his temple. "Though he has not reclaimed his memories and sense of self, his dreams were a torrent which I labored to contain."
Xanderian looked down in shame…and her tears fell to the cold marble tiles. “In the circumstance, his doom seemed unavoidable...and as all those who love him, as they commenced to mourn, they looked to me...and seeing my inconsolable resignation they joined with me in grief. The fault was mine and mine alone....but I praise Elbereth that he found such care and safety in his moment of need when I had failed him. Never can I repay this unto you, brother.”
His burning heart was cooled by her words, and Aradil found himself abashed for his earlier remark. "There is no need for recompense. When I discovered that the wretched form lying upon the beach yet drew breath, I did what any might do in my place. I do not judge you and your companions' belief that he had perished. In truth, my efforts to suppress his dreams contributed to your inability to sense his presence."
Xan nodded softly, rising a bit unsteadily....and watched Gwaelion, eyes filled with a yearning to run to him but also a fear of his reaction, dreading looking into his eyes when they knew her not. Her voice low, she murmured..."You say he does not know himself, or his past, or…or….?
Aradil joined her in observing Gwaelion as the boy took his turn as sparring dummy, holding a spear crosswise in front of his chest as his partner unleashed a flurry of careful attacks. Aradil's voice was equally low and soft as he answered. "Among his injuries was a grievous head wound. For most of his convalescence he lay insensate, and when he did regain consciousness, he was alike to a blank slate. I named him, my choice clearly guided by fate, and endeavored to incorporate him into our kin...until his dreams began." The Elf sighed. "His past and his memories are just beneath the surface. Your arrival will no doubt awaken him."
Xanderian looked to Aradil, her concerns clear on her face, now wet with silent tears..."I do not wish to harm him or slow his recovery, or cause him pain....what do you think would be best, brother?
The sheen of tears upon her face weakened his iron resolve, and Aradil couldn’t deny her a compassionate look. "His physical recovery is complete. In body he is fully sound, and recovered of an older injury to his leg which shall no longer trouble him after a careful re-setting of the bone. A diet of Elven fare, however limited our rations, has given him healthy weight and allowed for strong muscular growth. Aside from the scars he shall bear forevermore, I can do no more to mend him physically." He knows full well that was not her only concern. Aradil's grey eyes observed the movements of the training scouts as they sparred at his order. There is a long pause before he truly answered her. "...I cannot make the decision for you, though it must be made: you may leave him here, in my care, where he will surely be troubled by visions and question his past, but ultimately remain safe and well-cared for. Or, should you reveal yourself to him and return him to the path of his destiny, I am confident that with time his memories will restore themselves."
Xanderian met his eyes. "I thank you for your great pains and clear affection for Gwaelion. I have no doubt save for your hand in this matter he would have died. However, even did I not love him, and did not wish to return him to those others who also keep him vouchsafe in their hearts...we both know his fate does not lie here. I must bring him forth. His dreams called me here at this time with a purpose....he must return to his road.”
With a slow nod, Aradil closed his eyes. Was this not the fate of the Firstborn? To relinquish that which they held dear? When his eyes had opened once more, the Noldo was resolved. "Gwaelion." His voice was sharp with command, loud enough to carry over the din of voices and clashing steel. Hearing his name, Hawk disengaged from his training partner and stowed his borrowed weapon before striding towards the pair of Elves. His dark eyes passed over Xanderian with open curiosity as he drew near. Then his steps faltered and his expression changed. Not quite recognition...but clearly the sight of her had awoken something in his heart and in his mind.
Xanderian kept her voice low, and smooth.....though her hands were shaking. "Gwaelion....Hawke....I am...I am Xa...." she stopped herself and met his eyes...barely keeping herself from stroking his face as she intoned her only name that mattered at that moment.
"I am Lethril....
Hearing the seemingly unfamiliar name, his face slowly paled as the blood drained, and his lips parted as if he intended to question her, or correct her. Aradil remained silent. For all his stillness he could have been carved from stone as Xanderian attempted to hold herself together.
"Lethril?" Hawk's voice was the familiar soft, husky tenor, though months of hearing and speaking only Sindarin had given his tongue a different lilt. His brows furrowed and his lower lip very nearly trembled.
Xanderian, the Monk of Osgilliath, Nightwind and Longtracker, Herald before the Wrath of the West, had fought countless battles and endured many wounds…but had never known pain as she did watching Gwaelion search for her without success in his hazy past, until finally the shadows seemed to clear and he responded. "I know that name...I know you."
The huntress released the breath she had been holding. “Yes Gwaelion...you know me…” She reached out tentatively and slowly stroked his cheek, her touch gentle and soft as gossamer.
Though he did not flinch when she reached towards him, his eyes betrayed a slight nervousness, until her warm hand caressed his cheek with the lightness of a butterfly's wing.
Whispering the words of power which would remove the careful wards he had placed to protect him from his memories, Aradil turned away to give them what privacy he could offer. The moment the metaphorical dam broke, Hawk blinked, and his eyes welled with tears. "My Elf Lady."
Crying out, Xanderian sobbed openly, unabashedly, whispering..."My urchin...." and kissed him slowly, passionately...her shoulders shaking.
It is as if the world around them had faded to only the two of them, and Hawk's arms trembled as he wrapped them around her, kissing her through her tears and his.
She curled into him, murmuring through the kiss. "I thought you dead..I thought you had abandoned me....oh Gwaelion...I am sorry...I am so so sorry.......I love you.”
He was nearly overwhelmed by the flood of emotion and memory which accompanied her soft kisses and the gentle whisper of her voice. "I...I got lost." His lips pressed to her cheek, her forehead. "I was so lost. I almost forgot you!"
Xanderian shook her head. “But you didn't...your dreams came to get me...she came to get me....Oh Gwaelion...I did just what I thought you would wish...Small Finchley is safe, tending your little animals...everyone is safe...I took care of them for you... People are awaiting you..Eduwiges and the Lady Ahmo and Nethrida and Addie. OH! Sweet Finchley is a sister now...and she and the Banshee can rarely be parted as odd as that sounds but Finchley weeps for you every night asleep in your bed and thinks I do not know. After you had....fallen, Xandilif went to fetch her to the island.” Xanderian was babbling but didn’t care.
Hawk sank to his knees. It was as if the weight of his relief and his confusion and above all else his love for her was so heavy he couldn’t even stand.
She sank down with him, whispering..."Oh Gwaelion...you are coming home....
His voice barely a whisper, Hawke met her eyes again. "Where is home?"
At first Xanderian was afraid the memories were leaving him again. “The island...Tol Lochul....everyone awaits us there…Xandilif…and Finchley....and everyone...” Then she realized what he needed at that moment and her voice gained strength.
“With me, Gwaelion, your home is with me.”
He nodded against her shoulder, "Home is with you...I remember that now." His gaze passed over her shoulder to the still, solemn figure of Aradil. The Noldo spared a glance and nodded There was no point in tearful farewells or words of gratitude. Hawk spoke his heart with his eyes, and the two of them exchanged their farewells in silence.
Aradil murmured something which only Xanderian could hear. "I have mended his wings. Take him, and see that he soars." and he turned to walk into the midst of his scouts, taking charge and thereby turning his back upon Xanderian and the young man he had carefully nurtured for so long.
Still a bit uncertain, Hawke lowered his head. Though he had been among them for months, he had not made many friends in the short time that he had been awake and able to interact with the Avorrim. Most were old enough that they had very little interest in him or his presence. Other than the clothes he wore there were no belongings, nothing to pack for their journey. It was as if his life had simply stopped as he plummeted from that cliff, to be restarted now. Hawk switched to the Common tounge but it was rusty, and he'd lost the Breeland brogue for now. Xandilif would be pleased by that.
He smiled, the roguish gleam already returning to his eye. "I'm ready. Take me home, Lethril."
