Dawn traced a thin line of gold across the horizon as Xanderian sat crosslegged in the grass on Tol Lochul, at the feet of a marble statue of Celebrimbor. The massive marble fortress of The House of Three Graces was at her back as she slowly, carefully polished and sharpened her sword, Lovelorn.
Birdsong was just beginning to greet the rising sun and she could hear some of the inhabitants of the house stirring through windows, open to catch the sea breeze. Too many of her friends and lovers had spent too long as soldiers, and the habit of rising with the sun was ingrained in them. Of course, that is assuming they had slept at all the night before…Xanderian hadn’t, lost in memories and thoughts that she finally had a chance to process.
Since she and the others had been drawn by primal magic into the memories of Calidis Nighteye, and witnessed firsthand the glorious towers of Eregion fall so many ages past, time has seemed to be moving quickly.
Before Xanderian had even been able to catch her breath, her dreams, which seemed almost a continuation of the previous adventure, drew her out to seek Gwaelion, or Hawke as he was known in Bree. He had already been thought dead for so many months, yet he was waiting alive and well, recovering in the Caves of the Avorrim.
That thought brought a prayer of thanks to the Huntress’ lips again, and she noted with a soft smile that she had settled near the young rogue’s window. She could hear both he and Finchley breathing in sleep beyond the window if she focused, as neither of them were likely to rise at dawn.
Since she had brought him, stunned and weakened, back to the Island, Xanderian had not spoken overly much with Hawke, leaving Small Finchley to tend him through the last stages of his recovery. Had she been avoiding him? No…and yes. After all, Hawke had been taken from Finchley when their relationship had barely begun. They both deserved this time with one another to understand and explore, and Xanderian did not know of jealousy. She knew her time with the young man would come soon enough, and it pleased her to see the cloud of pain pass from her adopted sister’s eyes.
Yes it truly seemed as if a lifetime had passed since Hastaina had dragged them into Calidis’ dark memories, and in the elleth’s mind had taken on a form that it thought would be best for guiding Xanderian. A dark haired, brown eyed elven child, in human terms no more than 10 years of age. Her face was filled with wisdom and her eyes were filled with mischief and the two knew one another at once, though no names were spoken.
No names were needed.
As they battled orcs and trolls in the flaming halls of Ost-in-Edhil the child had remained silent most of the time, occasionally pointing out threats, or moments of importance. Yet her eyes were always warm and beseeching when they met Xanderian’s and it was clear that the child held her tongue from fear of saying too much. Xanderian had been grateful for that reticence. She already feared what effects the crystal’s tampering might have on time and fate and did not wish to confuse herself further, yet she took a deep abiding comfort from the nearness of the child. Even as the battle raged, she could smell the child’s hair, tones of clean water and warm ginger.
Finally, as they faced the horrible general of Annatar’s forces, festooned with skulls reeking of dark magic, the child spoke, her voice taking on a tone of such sad urgency that Xanderian was unclear if the little girl spoke with Hastaina’s voice or the child’s own.
“Listen to me, Lethril of the Hidden Glade. The orc is not your foe, he is but a coat the true beast wears. Strike at his talismans of power, the remains of his prey, to weaken and bring down the thing which wears the orc.”
Nodding, Xanderian called out guidance to her allies to strike at the heads which festooned the monster, those remains of others that had fallen to his blades, and then looked back at the little girl, who was clearly not done.
"Good….but the moment for which you are here has arrived. Before you stands the key to many futures and you must make a choice, just as your beloved comrade must make hers in the presence of the enemy.”
Even in the midst of the fight, Xanderian paused, giving all her attention to the child.
The little girl smiled gently, which seemed at odds with the gravity of her words. “If you back away now, and call your friends to you as well to leave him unmolested, the general Tarek ManSlayer will lead his forces into the forge below to rape and pillage and slay the hidden woman, even before her father falls and all the good she may one day do will be moot. However your foe will then leave the story of this world and your road will be eased through this age, as will that of those you love.”
Xanderian blinked. “Calidis will fall? No..No…..What other options lie before me?”
The child continued. “Crush the ManSlayer’s last tokens of power and release your foe from this form and the hidden woman will survive this day and the past will remain unchanged…but your foe will continue and grow mightier…and menace your path and that of your kin for many long years. Untold evil will he visit upon this fragile world.”
Xanderian thought for a moment….waiting. The child understood and laughed. “No, foolish eavesdropper, there are no other options. You must choose..and failing to choose is also a choice.”
The woman shook her head. “Both options seem bad, there must be another way. Please…there must be another way.”
The child looked sad. “Nay, this is one fate you cannot cheat or delay…this small fragment of the future rests on you and you alone, daughter of Anerial. Choose well.”
Xanderian shook her head firmly. “I cannot choose,” she whispered. “Why must I choose my darling? Why must there be choices?”
Her brown eyes filled with tears as the little girl reached up to take Xanderian’s hand. “Do not ask questions you do not wish the answer to, dear one…I cannot bear them. I know you must be hurt, but please do not make me hurt you. Now choose…and accept what comes after…and know that I love you.”
Remembering back to that moment, Xanderian sighed softly as she watched the sea. The choice was truly no choice at all, for she had sworn to protect Calidis through her ordeal. Thusly the elleth destroyed the last tokens binding the beast to Tarek ManSlayer and therefore unleashed it upon the future, yet Calidis fulfilled her destiny.
The Monk of Osgilliath smiled to herself, remembering the child’s last words to her. “You shall see me again, sooner than you imagine…you do not understand why, yet…but know I am not lost to you, simply misplaced. Simply misplaced.”
Some days after those strange events, she dreamed the child again, but older, perhaps in her late teens by a man’s reckoning. Same midnight hair, same brown eyes, same mischievous demeanor, and it was this dream of a womanchild that had sent her to find Gwaelion, who in truth had indded been misplaced, just as the girl had been, but was now found again.
Xanderian rose and sheathed her sharpened blade and paused to hug herself for a moment. She could feel the storm clouds gathering, knew that much strife was on the horizon, but also had hope again. That which had been misplaced was found again.
Walking slowly to the stairs to make certain there was enough food on hand for breakfast, and for Finchley, she paused and looked back. The dark-haired shade hated to leave the view of the sea but followed behind her after a moment, smiling that lopsided smile that was so like her father’s…or he who might be her father one day.
The huntress whispered to herself, or not herself, and held out her hand to what a bystander would have thought to be empty air. “Thank you my Isilme, there are matters we must be about. Morning progresses and our family has need of us.
The shade of the elven teen took the woman’s hand and nodded, “Yes, Amil.”
Young Merileth, or Isilme as her mother called her, had no intention of being misplaced again, no matter what it took.
