A Hard Lesson
"But Nana…"
"Mírwen, please! You need to be quiet now. This is a very sad day for our mistress' house."
"But why, Nana? And where is Gimli? He is supposed to be in the garden…"
"Master Gimli," Sadroniel admonished her little daughter. "How many times must I tell you…"
"He asked me to call him just Gimli, Nana."
"Such a thing was not proper." Not that any remonstrance from her to Lord Legolas, intended to be passed along to Master Gimli, had ever done any good. Her daughter and the old naugren had become fast friends, often spending their afternoons together with their heads bent over some gem-working project. Over the years, Mírwen had been so proud of her lessons in carving stone; to the point of claiming that Gimli was even trying to teach her to sing to the stones as she worked. Such a concept!
Still, even Sadroniel could see that her daughter had talent and potential that deserved to be nourished and fostered. She had therefore very begrudgingly been grateful to the naugren for his willingness to give of his time and skill to the child of a laundress and groundskeeper, and she had eventually given her daughter permission to study the art of carving in stone when it was obviously something Mírwen desired greatly. One thing was for certain: Gimli had been an absolute master of his craft. His works were exquisite and delicate, in vivid contrast to the creature himself and his habits. She would not miss the smell of that odious pipeweed at all!
"Where is Master Gimli, then?" Mírwen persisted.
"Oh, child…" Sadroniel allowed the newly-washed linen to fall back into the basket and went down in a crouch before her little girl. "Master Gimli is gone now. Last night…"
"But he did not say goodbye to me! When did he go, and where did he go? And is he coming back?"
"You know that he has been unwell of late?"
Mírwen nodded. "He said that his hands and chest hurt sometimes, and that was why he wasn't working any stones lately. I think that was why we have had visitors too - Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían…"
"That is so." It was a good enough place to start as any, although Sadroniel would give anything to not have to broach this subject. "Has your teacher talked about what it means to be… mortal?"
The little girl cocked her head to the side. "Mortals? Are those not the people who live on the other side of the sea in the Marred Lands? The ones we call After-comers and Second-born?"
"The Second-born are indeed mortal, but there are others as well. The naugrim, like your friend Master Gimli, the pherianath, like Lord Iorhael the Ringbearer, both of these peoples also are mortal."
"So?"
"Mírwen, my question to you was if you understood what it means to be mortal? Do not tell me who is and who is not, but what makes one a mortal?"
"I…" The grey eyes widened slightly. "Master Gilfanen said that to be mortal was to have a special gift from the One, but he never really explained anything about what kind of gift it was. He said it was nothing that we had to worry much about here."
Sadroniel sighed and led her child to one of the stone benches that nestled in the scattered alcoves of the garden. "Well, Gimli was mortal, and the time came for him to accept this gift."
"He cannot just enjoy the gift here, with us?"
"No, little one. Accepting the gift meant that he had to go away."
"Where? For how long?"
She sighed again, and determined to have words with Gilfanen at the first opportunity. He was supposed to be preparing the youth of Eryn Dithen, educating them, not feeding them vague euphemistic references easily misunderstood. "Until the very ending of things, I fear. And no one is certain where the gift takes them."
"What?!"
"Mistress Sadroniel."
The name was pronounced quietly, and by a voice that had a ragged edge of pain that made the woman draw in a shocked breath. The staff had heard rumors that the mistress' son was nearly prostrate with grief. He was the last person she'd expected to see. "My Lord?"
"If I may…" Legolas bent to Mírwen. "Would you like to walk with me, little one? I have something to tell you."
"About Master Gimli?" the girl asked hesitantly, her smile for her Lord tenuous.
"Indeed so." Legolas gazed into Sadroniel's face with eyes that did not waver, and for that reason were extremely hard to meet. "I shall only take her but a few paces from you, and I will explain to her what her teacher has neglected." He had a tick in one cheek, however, as if working hard to control his emotions. To appear calm and collected was obviously taking great effort. "They were good friends, mistress, Gimli and your little daughter. She deserves a full accounting, and I give you my oath that I will be gentle in my explanation."
"I can explain it to her, my Lord…" Sadroniel began.
Legolas nodded very faintly. "I know you can, mistress. But Gimli is… was… my friend too. And one thing I learned in my time across the sea was that this particular news is something best shared by those who cared most for the one in question."
She shook her head, aware that her daughter was watching her closely. "I would save you the…"
"There is no sparing this, not for me, and not for Mírwen. I am fully aware of what I will be burdening her with, and I am sorry for it; but there is a special comfort in shared tears, mistress. Trust me. It would be best if she heard this from one who holds the same level of affection for Master Gimli as she does."
Of all the people in Eldamar, Sadroniel would trust her mistress' son with her little daughter to the same extent she trusted her husband. Legolas was one of the kindest, most compassionate people she'd ever had the good fortune to meet, and fully half the reason she thought so highly of him was because of the way he had ever treated Mírwen when in the company of his naugren companion. The three of them had been thick as thieves at times, despite the obvious lapse in propriety in allowed Mírwen to monopolize the time of the nobility.
Slowly Sadroniel nodded and then looked down at Mírwen. "Lord Legolas has kindly offered to explain things to you. Be a good girl, now, and listen patiently to all he has to tell you. Will you?"
"Yes, Nana." Mírwen nodded first at her mother and then at Lord Legolas, who put out his arm and took charge of her hand as if the girl were the finest lady living in Tirion.
"Come with me. We shall not go far." And with that, Legolas led Mírwen across the garden to yet another bench in yet another alcove. There he sat down and stationed Mírwen directly in front of him, so that they were nearly eye to eye, and began to explain. While what he was saying was too quiet to hear, Sadroniel could see that he was speaking slowly, clearly choosing his words with great care
Sadroniel pulled her laundry basket to the other side of the line so that she could continue to watch the interactions, and she knew precisely the moment that Lord Legolas' explanation of mortality and what it meant to Gimli was finally fully understood. With a soft cry, Mírwen launched herself up into Lord Legolas' arms, and he gathered her to him tightly. It wasn't hard to see that both were sobbing: Mírwen's face was buried in Legolas' hair on his shoulder, while his face was folded into her neck as well.
The news of the naugren's death hadn't affected her personally at all; but then, she had maintained her distance from the odd creature. When she had come west with the few left of her family, she had promised herself that none of the taint from the Marred Lands would ever touch her or hers again. She had married here, had her daughter here, and reveled in knowing that so much that had made living in the east difficult would never be an issue. And yet, the Belain, or at least their permission for one crotchety and personable old naugren to find a home on this side of the sea, had turned those intentions and beliefs upside down. Mírwen would ever be scarred by the loss of her mortal friend; a tiny sliver of joy in an immortal life would be torn away now, never to be restored.
So would it be for Lord Legolas too, only for him, it was far worse. She had heard Mistress Laeriel worrying to one of her ladies not long ago about how he would react to losing this last one of his many mortal comrades. Each death on the other side of the sea had evidently taken a great toll, and the household rumors had it that Gimli had agreed to sail only to prevent Legolas from remaining there until after his demise – in which case it was generally agreed that Legolas would have ended up in Bannoth after fading completely. It wasn't certain that he wouldn't fade from grief and end up there even now. No doubt a call had gone out to summon to Eryn Dithen the Maia Olórin that Legolas also called comrade. And Lord Elrond was here, another who understood all too well the pain of losing beloved mortal friends and family.
The two on the far bench finally moved far enough apart to wipe the tears from their faces and speak softly to each other, and then Mírwen was lifted up into Lord Legolas' lap, where she could lean into his chest while he wrapped his arms around her again and leaned his cheek on the top of her head. It occurred to Sadroniel that Lord Elrond and Olórin would be tending not only to Lord Legolas, but Mírwen as well. They might even have to aid the Lady Laeriel, who had also befriended the naugren out of love for her son and would no doubt be upset by the sad event. Once more, her daughter would be moving in circles far above her station! It would be necessary, and the assistance of such lofty personages would be deeply appreciated; but that didn't change the fact that such should never have been needed in the first place!
Sadroniel shook her head in disapproval as she returned to hanging the freshly laundered linens on the line to dry. Not for nothing had it been tradition in Ennor that edhil keep their distance from mortals. And as far as she was concerned, it was just as well that there were no more mortals on this side of the sea. The consequences of friendship with them were simply far too high.
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