The Passing of Elenwë

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Shawn Daysleeper and Ael Kennyr Rhiano

Olwë

Arien's vessel dipped into the sea on the edge of the horizon, and the silence of the evening begins to descend upon the Swanhaven. Squirrels scurried to warm nests, and in the harbor, the swans tucked beak under wing in drowsy contentment.  What was once Tilion's Tower, now a mangled wreckage, no longer smoldered, and the rain of yestereve had done much to clear the air of the smell of char and ash and soot.  Inside his palace, Olwe of Alqualonde gingerly opens the door into an opulent bedchamber, his blue eyes scanning the room, resting briefly upon the lone, small figure upon the bed. He entered quietly, lifting his gaze to take in the other occupant of the bedroom. Estelin, the musician, the Vala in disguise.  He stops just stop of the two stools near the bed and quietly clears his throat. "Has there been any change?" he asks.

Estelin wipes the forehead of the swordmaiden. His face is somber and stressed. He knows that it will soon be... time for her to pass on. "None," the musician responds. As he says so, the memories of their short time together flash across his mind. "No change at all."

Elenwe lies almost unmoving upon the bed where she had been lain.  Beneath her clothing her skin was lacerated and bruised from the crushing weight of the rubble that had fallen upon her as the tower collapsed.  As each hour passed her abdomen grew more taut and swollen and her skin more pale.  Her eyes, those eyes that were normally so swift and bright as she danced the dance of the blade, stared dull and unseeing at the ceiling above the bed.  Her only movement was the slight rise and fall of her chest with each laboured breath.

Olwe's eyes are drawn back to the delicate figure on the bed, and the Lord of Alqualonde walks over to the bedside and reaches out to touch her arm, gingerly. The only noise in the room is the sound of crackling of the fire for a few moments. His gaze sweeps over her body and then onto those eyes that were normally so bright, so full of the joy of life. "I don't know what happened to her," Olwe says softly. "I don't know what befell her."


"I found her," Estelin begins, "unconscious in the rubble of the tower. I was drawn there by her visions of agony. When I arrived, I could tell she sustained serious injury. I then... tried to save her, bring her back to the light."

Olwe looks up, his brow furrowed a moment as he hears the words. "Back to the light,"  he echoes softly, looking at the musician before him. No, to be more accurate, the guise of the Lord of Dreams. "She was in the tower when it fell, my lord?" Surprised at Estelin's words, he falls back upon the deep respect he feels for the Lord of Dreams. "How could anyone be alive in that wreckage? I saw it the day afterward. All of us together could not have dug someone out."  He studies the face of the disguised Lord of Dreams.

Estelin realizes Olwe's reaction about digging her from the ruins of the tower, and he responds hesitantly. "What you need to know about that is this.." he pauses, hoping he has not contributed to the added concern of the Teleri lord. Revealing his true form in the town was not wise, but he had cast aside all his own doubts to rescue the Teleri maiden. "I ... I called upon my Vala form to release her from the rubble and brought her here. I know I risked exposure, but her situation was dire at the time, and still is. While rescuing her, I do not know if she caught sight of my true form."

 Elenwe's hair lies spread upon the pillow beneath her head.  Lovingly washed free of the dust from the fallen masonry and combed dry, it gave the illusion that any moment it would dance upon her shoulders with just a toss of her head.  But her head did not toss, nor did her hair dance as Elenwe lay upon the covers.  Each breath she took seemed to take longer and longer to draw.  Each time she exhaled her body seemed undecided as to whether to draw another, but another it did as she clung tenaciously to life.

Olwe's eyes widen a little as the truth of the matter is revealed. "You cast off your disguise...as Estelin?" he asks, his voice soft.  There is a loud pop from the fireplace as a log splits apart from the heat of the fire, and it resettles noisily, sending up embers and sparks as it does. Olwe leans forward, a leg pressing against the bed. "You risked exposure," he says softly. Then he looks back down at Elenwe, her pale form.  "I do not have the power of a Vala, but I do know she is grievously hurt, my lord."

Estelin simply nods as response to Olwe's question. He then rinses the towels in the water bath and turns to wipe her forehead. "She has been here some time now, and shown no improvement at all: in fact she is getting worse, far worse." He wipes away a tear. "I fear it will not be much longer."

Olwe gives a soft nod in response and steps back, circles around the cushioned stools, the indention where someone has recently occupied it still visible and with slow, measured steps, makes his way around the bed and to Estelin's side. "She will be in Mandos' hall soon?" His voice is part question, part confirmation.  His eyes drop down to the swordmaiden, but he speaks to Estelin. " You did all you could, my lord," he says softly.

Estelin nods. He is visibly stressed and frustrated. Never in his long years has he seen one of the Children perish before him. Her time in this world is almost over. "She will depart to brother Namo soon," he says softly.

Elenwe's hand lies pale upon the rich covers of the bed.  For a moment it flutters weakly against the fabric and then is still again.  As though that slight movement had cost her dearly, Elenwe's breathing becomes yet more laboured, each long intake of breath now more sonorous than before.

That sound Olwe knows, and he reaches out and takes Elenwe's pale hand in his, squeezing. "We are here, swordmaiden," he murmurs, his voice soft, husky, He swallows visibly, and blinks rapidly. The gaze he turns to the prone figure on the bed is intense, but his words now are for the disguised Vala beside him. "My Lord, my Lord, if only Lady Nienna could be here for her. If she could pass but gently from this life...." his voice trails off and then he says,"Whatever she may be doing, can she not spare a moment for Elenwe?"

Despite Olwe near him, he feels very much alone. A friend before him lay dying, and his sister will not respond. "My sister. I do not know, but I fear she has slipped far beyond my reach. Somewhere dark and troubling. She has changed. Never before has she ignored me." He then is attentive to the matter at hand; the limp swordmaiden before him.

Olwe opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it. To badger the Lord of Dreams would not bring the Vala of Compassion, nor would it save Elenwe. Slowly, he kneels beside the bed and whispers to the swordmaiden, "Go softly, Elenwe, go gently.  Hear the songs of all your ancestors. See the faces of loved ones who have gone before you, and now await you in the Halls of Mandos. Go, and tell them that you are Elenwe, Swordmaiden of Alqualonde, of the house of Olwe. Let them rejoice you are with them once more." He squeezes her hand and watches.

 Elenwe's blue eyes darken, seeming to focus on some distant vista as they stare unblinkingly upwards.  Her lungs heave to draw one last dragging breath, a breath that exhales silently between her parted lips and then is gone into the silence of the room  Her blue eyes continue to stare, sightlessly now, nevermore to delight in the flash of a clean blade, or take pleasure in the sight of Alqualonde's shores. The body of Elenwe Morefindesse, Swordmaiden of Alqualonde, broken beyond repair, has fought its final battle.

A silence descends upon the room, only the crackling of the fire breaks it. Slowly, Olwe releases her hand and rises to his feet. Stretching that same hand out, he slowly closes her unseeing eyes. In a voice husky with sorrow, he says, "Elenwe is no more."

Estelin breathes a deep sigh at the passing of Elenwe. "My Lord Olwe, her spirit has departed for the Halls of Mandos. Night falls for Elenwe Starmaiden. There she will lie until the Dagor Dagorath. Then she will fight in the light of the final battle. But for now, she will rest."

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