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Dear Artanis,
Do not tear your hair out in frustration, now! You would not wish to give our late uncle the satisfaction.
I must apologize for my delay, though- I had set out from my brother’s city, intending first to visit our cousins, and then you and that husband of yours, but I have found myself in the most unexpected of places. There was- and you must not fret, nor laugh, for I’ll dye your hair with orc’s blood if you even consider it, dear cousin- a small accident involving my horse. Poor Vinyassë, she has been an excellent companion through these years, and one of the finest mare’s in my brother’s stable besides. There were no orcs involved, just the unhappy misfortune of her being startled by something within the woods- a wolf, judging from the size and the tracks we saw in the morning-, but her leg was broken in the chaos, and we all know that I am no healer and cannot do more than crudely knit my own flesh together- if that. I am not you, after all.
But worry not, for I am not stranded at all. There is an Elda here, a Sinda, I think, and he shares his hearth. I will borrow one of his horses to leave- fine beasts, they are-, but I am inclined to linger a while. The hunting is good here, and my host is most gracious, and certainly it does not hurt to look at him! Ah, that I cannot stop you from laughing at.
I do like it here, though. It reminds me of your descriptions of the wood outside Doriath, all a wild tangle of shadowed trees, though there are no foul beasts of Morgoth abroad. My host does well, to keep them back, though he has warned me not to venture too far north, for his lands do not cover the whole of this place.
I will, of course, venture north. But I will heed his warnings, and I will not go too far. And who knows, he may escort me, if he cares to, but I know that he shall not stop me if I wish to go alone. Oh, how I have missed that, Artanis. I love my brother dearly, but his city stifles me, nothing changes there. Sometimes I look upon him and all I see is the Ice again.
You would say that it changed us all, of course. I suppose you are right.
But enough of that, and enough of me. As our meeting will be delayed for some months, you must tell me what has happened since our last meeting. I hear that you are no longer in Doriath yourself? Do not tell me you’re in Nargothrond, with Findárato and our cousins- I cannot imagine you three in the same room without coming to blow, and poor Curvo has had quite enough of that. As for Tyelko- he usually deserves it, does he not? But I ask that you leave some of his face intact so I may punch it when I need to.
Still, perhaps you could meet me there, and I could accompany you back?
Do not bring Celeborn, I’d like him to squirm with anxiety- doubtless you’ve told him the most terrifying of stories of me.
Yours,
Irissë
-
Dear Artanis,
With no reply to my last letter, I can only assume that it has not reached you- yet, at least! I shall summarize its contents for you here, though: Do not worry about me, I am in Nan Elmoth, and it is a wondrous place in truth. I am staying with a Sinda elf, a kinsman of Thingol himself, if you would believe it, but I doubt there is much resemblance between them. Good, as far as I am concerned; only you and your siblings care for the King in Doriath, and I don’t know what I’d do, if I found out that Eöl looked like him! Well, I suppose Melian must have liked him for a reason- perhaps he has remarkable eyes? He must, even if they have not seen the Trees, as your letters from Doriath were enough to tell me that nonsense about staring into each other’s eyes for millennia was not just a bit of pretty poetry.
Ha!
Well, Eöl’s eyes are nice enough, I grant, but I doubt I would want to look into them- or anyone else’s- for quite that long. I’d need to blink, for one.
Regardless. I’d sent my last note on to Nargothrond, but I can only assume that you are not there, for I have not received a reply at the time of writing this. No matter, I will send this as well- two copies, I think, one to Nargothrond and one over to Círdan, as I know that you visit him often. It is no trouble to do this, for my host keeps birds for such things, as he trade with the dwarves over in the mountains, and needs to communicate with them. Not dissimilar to Curvo, or Moryo, or even Nelyo, though I know you hate that any of them could be remotely diplomatic. They will surprise you yet, Artanis!
….I miss them. But I enjoy my time here enough that I do not mind waiting longer- and I am sure that no matter when I see them, it shall be loud and dramatic, and potentially violent, if we decide to go hunting. It has been too long since I had a proper hunt, you know; though two is hardly enough for a train. There is still a wildness here that Tyelko would enjoy, perhaps I might bring him one day.
If possible, that is. Eöl shares the same view of Quenya as his former king, and while he is courteous to me, I do not think that he would take kindly to any of our cousins. I cannot blame him, though. I know them well, and they can be difficult to love sometimes.
It is no matter.
Will you ask your husband about him? Properly about him, I mean. I am simply curious. He does not speak much of Doriath, though I do not think he left for ill reasons. It did not suit him, he says, and I can believe it, from what you have told me.
I can understand it.
But- enough about me. Tell me about yourself. How are you, and more importantly, where are you, that I can address my next letter to directly, without worrying about whether Finrod’s forgotten to send something on because he’s too busy trying to befriend every person he comes across? Have you found a good place for your kingdom? I still think you ought to go to the seas, but a lake or river would be acceptable. I know that you had wished to cross the mountains, maybe I can ask Eöl whether he knows if the dwarves have passes through them. Either way, you most certainly cannot stop me from going with you- it would be quite the adventure, though I’m sure we might drive each other mad. It would be worth it, though. I would not have anyone guarding my back, if they weren’t you. Let me know about those plans, please- I’ve been wondering what we might find there, the things Men say are so muddled, and get worse after a handful of decades. I’d like to see it for myself. It must be beautiful.
You have my love, as always. Celeborn has some grudging acceptance, but tell him he shall earn my favor if he answers these questions.
Yours,
Aredhel
-
Dearest Artanis,
You would be furious with me, I know, for breaking this news in a letter. But I must, and it shall explain why I have not come to see you.
There is no easy way to say this, and I was never a wordsmith, but- I am married.
Yes, to Eöl. No, I will not provide you with details; such things are better left for when we meet again, though I doubt it will be soon, though at least you can understand this, given how long it was until I saw you after you married your Sinda prince!
I know, I can see your shocked expression. I had not thought that I would marry, either, but this place is peaceful, and- oh, Artanis, but I cannot bear to return to Gondolin yet. I have written to my brother at least, though it is difficult to get messages into the city, so I ask that you let him know that I am well, too, if you can.
Eöl is like no one I have met before. He can be dangerous, to be sure- but who is not, these days! I know that I am, I know that you are-, and so he understands me. The Ice left us all with edges that cannot be smoothed down, and mine are more pronounced than most. I must live with the fact that I thrived there, while others froze and starved and died. I became more myself, but in doing so, I became more- difficult. I think. For my brothers to deal with. Fingon at least knows a little better what to do with me, though we are still too similar, and I did not understand why he would go running off to rescue Nelyo.
(I understand now, since I’d planned on visiting Tyelko, but never mind that.)
And Turgon- well. He needs me, and I him, but he has never known how to let me breathe . He does not even let himself breathe! He would have many a harsh word with me, for my marriage, he would call it hasty and impetuous and ridiculous, and perhaps all this is true, but he would have me return to his city. No, he would rather that I never left, that I stayed where he could see me- as if he is my father! Or my mother! He has inherited too much of both their temperaments, I think. He does not understand why I wouldn’t stay, where it is safe, where it is known.
If I had wanted that, I would have remained in Valinor.
If I had wanted that, I would have married some lord there, and called myself content.
Here, I am satisfied. There is much to do, there is a freedom in this solitude, in not being the king’s sister. In being able to hunt as I please, in being able to feel the wind in my hair- Gondolin is so very still , Artanis, it is unnatural-, in being able to strip stark naked and bathe in a stream if I damn well please, because my clothes are ruined thanks to a monstrous boar and some brambles. Just as an example.
The woods are wild here, and I like that. And my husband- he understands it, he does not try to change or tame them. He is content to live with them, in peace. I do not think that I could ask for anything more. I am, I believe, satisfied. Or as close to it as I can get.
Oh, and something else- there are strange creatures afoot in the forest, though they do not carry Morgoth’s taint, nor anything orcish of them. Shadows cling to them, and I shudder to be near them. Sometimes I worry for my husband, what living here among these creatures has done to them, but he does not reek of evil as the Enemy’s servants do. He is but an elf, though I do not understand all of what he does, or why.
The grass dies where these things walk, but they can be slain, though their flesh is not good to eat, and burnt with acrid, choking smoke, when I tried to make the appropriate prayers. It is odd, how they are only found in the heart of the forest, not further north, as I had expected. You were in Doriath, you know those woods and the dark things that roamed outside the Girdle. Does any of this sound familiar? If there is darkness here, I must banish it, for it is my home. It does not feel dangerous, not yet, but you know what comes of letting foul things go freely. Let me know how you dealt with them- if at all.
I’ve nothing further to say, only that I hope you are well, and pass my wishes on to Celeborn and our family, those whom you still speak to, at least! I will not make you tell Tyelko and Curvo this news.
Yours,
Aredhel
-
Dearest Galadriel,
It has been so long since I have written, I scarcely know what to tell you. I do not know that you will reply- I can only hope that you do not think me dead.
Turgon must be worried sick, though I cannot even muster up sisterly amusement at the thought as I normally would.
It has been- difficult.
I was abed for much of the past years, but I am entirely recovered now, and- I suppose the good news ought to come first. I have a son. He is perfect , in every way, and I held him in my arms and nearly cried. Well, I did cry, if I am being quite honest, but he is terribly smart, and he grows more every day, and no one told me that babies shat so much, but I certainly did learn!
I will not be having another child.
He is enough- he is more than enough. I need not look further for my legacy, my mark on this world; I hold him in my arms as I rock him to sleep.
I worry that this place will have an ill effect on him, though. It is past strange, there is a darkness lurking here that I cannot name and I cannot banish. I do not know if I am strong enough to. I do not know anymore.
And I cannot bring another baby into this world, with Eöl as my husband. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse, he cannot have this of me, I have seen how he treats Lómion, he will not even give our boy a name, yet he spurns the one I gave him. He spurned my hopes and wishes for our son, he thinks only of his heir, his perfect creation. It was a battle, to give what I could to him; Eöl spent much of his spirit trying to impart some onto our son, and I dread to think that he succeeded. There will be good on my child, Artanis, this I promise you. And if his father does not love him, then I shall. More than anyone else.
Not even Fëanor could have been a father like that- at least he loved his children, cousin, say what you will of him. At least he loved them.
What else? The creatures I wrote to you about grow bolder. The woods are always worse after we argue. That too, is strange. The trees rustle, when there is no wind, and the brambles refuse to yield their berries without making me bleed. I venture deep into the woods and I am stalked, I feel their eyes upon me. Their teeth gleam in what little light there is, under those ancient trees- and they are ancient, though they are not like any trees I have seen before. Eöl loves them, though I cannot understand why. He took me to see them, you know, and that is when I decided that I would bear his child.
I am watched everywhere- my husband’s servants attend to me, though I do not like it. I have my own rooms, but they are always here, near the door, lurking, though I try to keep them out. I do not like how they look at me, I do not like how they look at little Lómion. They do not mean us harm when he does not, Eöl says, and I am sure that much is true, but it is discomfiting.
Still, I am almost recovered, and I appreciate the help. Children require a great deal of attention, and I do not want Lómion to feel alone. I do not want him to
be
alone in this place, fearing its secrets, always looking over his shoulder.
Send me strength. I love you.
Yours,
Aredhel
-
Ar-
Dear cousin-
Dear Galadriel,
I do not know how I could have been so foolish. It is now clear that you do not reply because you do not receive my letters- or that I do not receive yours, and I curse myself for entrusting these missives to my husband’s birds.
I have tamed another, from the forest, instead, and I can only hope that this makes its way to you. It is too late to ask for help, and you know that I would never ask to begin with, but-
What a mess I have found myself in.
I cannot leave, my son is too young, his name is Lómion and I beg you to remember that, so that there will be some record of him. My husband calls him Maeglin, now, but I mislike the name. It does not suit him.
I fear for him, more than I fear for myself. Cousin, I have not loved anyone, or anything, half as much as I love him, and I understand now what my brother feels for little Idril, why he wishes to protect her so.
He did not ever have to protect her from Elenwë, though.
I did not do this for myself- I did not think I needed to. And then I did not know that I was strong enough. But for him, I must. He gives me strength, I remember who I am, that I am greater than what he has tried to make of me.
You would not have forgotten, I know. But you are smarter than the rest of us, you would have taken one look at this forest and turned around. How foolish you must think me, cousin, but you do not understand, and I cannot explain it. We both yearned for freedom, but you would be content with a cage so long as you held the key.
He cannot keep me here.
Please. Write soon, if you can.
Yours,
Aredhel
-
Cousin,
I do not know if this letter will reach you, but it does not matter. I am leaving. No, I have left- I will have, by the time you read this. By the time I send it, too, for better some foul beast of Morgoth pluck this bird from the sky, than Eöl’s creatures. I will have sent this from outside the forest, and I know now the true extent of the sway he has with the creatures here. They all listen to him, they are all bent and twisted to his will, and I cannot believe that I did not see it before.
I, who rode in Oromë’s train!
But it is no time for such regrets. I did not know, before. I thought it was some spell on the land, but it did not hurt him, and it did not hurt me, and so I did not worry.
I know now that it is the opposite of Melian’s Girdle; those within it are not safe, but prey, and you will not be hurt so long as you do not try to leave. But I have been careful, I promise. I have planned it all- and you will be proud of that! He is visiting the dwarves, he will not be back for another fortnight at least. I will have to take care of his servants- did I ever tell you, how few there are, how they always watch? No? Well, I shall make no mention of it now, but know that I am bent close to the paper on this last night here, in this wretched place. And I will sleep with it tucked against my chest. I am being so very careful. I will not get a chance like this.
Tomorrow is the full moon, but I will go during the day, aiming to reach the edge at just noon. It is not strange for me to range far abroad, now that Lómion is old enough, and when he is gone. They will not be suspicious. I hope. I hope, I hope.
I will send this when I reach the edge of the woods, so that you know I am safe. That I am going to be safe.
Pray for me, cousin.
I will see you. I promise this.
Love,
Aredhel
Irissë
-
Aredhel-
I only just received your letters- a stack of them, torn and aged, and I am so, so sorry.
Please, if you are still there, you must know. Celeborn speaks of the Elf Eöl with distaste, as does everyone I have spoken with that remembers him from Doriath. He was not well-liked, though he is a kinsman of their king. I never met him myself; he left shortly after the Lady Melian created the Girdle. One must wonder why he would leave such protection- but of course, you would understand to some extent, would you not?
Even ‘poor Curvo’, as you call him so fondly, waylaid him and would have slain him, if not for the tentative peace with Elu Thingol. I fear that I wish he had. He did not know why the Dark Elf was abroad, but if even Curufin could think ill of him- it bodes poorly. That is all. He has bought you some days, I believe, but not many.
I send this letter to Turgon by our usual ways, and if there is one thing the Valar will still grant, I hope it is this- that this letter reaches Gondolin before you do, as to warn you, and your brother, and turn him away at the gates. He is no creature of Morgoth, but do we not know that the Eldar can be just as dangerous?
More so, at times.
He is coming after you, and I can only hope that he loses his way.
Stay safe. I will see you.
Love,
Galadriel.