Post by breguilas on Jan 6, 2010 2:12:24 GMT -5
Breguilas strode slowly down the hill of green grass, her breathing even and steady as she approached the font which held the Mirror of Galadriel. It had taken all her cunning to defy the wardens of Lothlorien, for by and large she should not yet have been there, but this meeting was secret, and she had no intention of having anyone but Galadriel know she had come.
Gone were her vestments of war, for the time. They would avail her not, and her need for quiet was such that they would have done naught but slow her. Instead, Breguilas wore a gown of flowing silver and black, a choker of deep carmine colored satin clasped at her throat with a small, mithril hammer. Upon her brow, a single multifaceted ruby glowed softly in a circlet of filigree gold; it shown with a deep inner light, for it was a gem crafted by the Noldor in a manner much like the Silmaril, although not so great in power or renown.
Galadriel stood near her Mirror, and appraised Breguilas with a look that spoke of curiousity, for she knew these marks, and spoke with a voice reflected such, "To what occassion do I owe such a stately visit, High Lady of the House of the Hammer?"
Breguilas did her best to smile; long had it been since that title had been used to honor her presence, and it made her as uncomfortable now as it did then, "Please, Lady Galadriel. We might do without such formality. I wear these garments only because they would afford me respite for the arrows of your wardens, had they found me. As it stands, they did not, though not through lack of effort."
Galadriel laughed softly, and shook her head, like an old friend who had long ago lost touch, "Indeed, that was always your desire. You could have led that House, but let your great-nephew do so instead. It is a shame your brother could not see him grow into the fine person he became before Gondolin fell. Yet...I sense this small talk and reminisce is not why you have so brazenly come before me, Alcániel Firendil?"
Breguilas flinched visibly, as if struck. Galadriel had always been able to see into the tangled web of fate, to pluck at its strings and see what things would come to pass. She knew precisely, and had used that name...her true, given name, and not the self-name she carried in this age...to emphasize the point.
"I would say, given that blow, Galadriel, you know precisely why I am here and what I intend to ask, as is often your way, and you know what it is I desire. Tell me then: Is there no way for an Elf to change what Fate has wrought in her designs? Am I doomed to this misery eternal, forever bound to be an outsider amongst my people?"
There was a depth of sadness to her words, and the pain of such written clearly across Breguilas' face, like an old wound that would not heal.
Galadriel sighed softly, and turned her gaze to the green grass beneath her feet,"Woe unto me that I ever taught Maeglin to harness his gift, and use it to wound you so, Alcániel. Such things were beyond my power then, and for this I am truly sorry. Yet I am afraid no solace will my answer give, for I can do naught. This fate is yours to bear, for you are to be the last of us to go West, and end be the true herald of the end of Elves upon Middle Earth."
"Why? Why must I bear this burden? I came here not of my own accord, Galadriel. I came because I was asked, because they -wished- for me to be here. I have done all they asked, I have pursued their ends for them, and I have suffered mightily at the hands of others because they wished for it. All this I have borne for them without question, without fear, and without hesitation, and THIS is what I receive for it? To be cursed as an outsider amongst my kin? To be alone for years uncounted? To find love and have it snatched away? Have the Valar no pity, Galadriel? Have they no quarter? Have they no damnable conscience?!", Breguilas railed, like a furious animal poked and prodded one time too many. Tears streamed from her eyes, both of sadness and frustration, anger and hopelessness.
"What more can I lay down for them, Galadriel? What final sacrifice do they demand of me, that I might know peace? All they desired, I have done, and still I am shackled to this yoke I never asked for, a fate crueler than poor Luthien, for at least in the end her love won through. Mine will be as but an empty blackness, an eternity spent missing what I had only briefly. Ten thousand times the seasons have come and gone, Galadriel. Not one, or two, but ten thousand!"
The Lady Galadriel said nothing, her face impassive as a stone. What could she say? In her heart, she felt perhaps Breguilas had some credulity to her arguement, but she was an Elf, and as beholden to the turns of fate as Breguilas was.
For a long time, nothing was said between the two, and then Breguilas rose from the stone where she had settled, her emerald green eyes bloodshot from tears. She heard Galadriel say something, perhaps abuot an escort, but Breguilas cared not. The arrows of the wardens of Lorien could take her, for all she cared.
The Lady Galadriel watched as Breguilas walked away, and then when she was gone, turned to her mirror, and sighed, "I am sorry, Alcániel, but you must believe the lie set before you. You have work yet to accomplish before your reward can be revealed to you, and your heart must be hard for the path ahead, lest you leave your charge unfulfilled. Were you not so distraught, the tears you weep would have been your clue, but such is the way of the Valar. Blessed Elbereth, I pray she does not break too soon."
Gone were her vestments of war, for the time. They would avail her not, and her need for quiet was such that they would have done naught but slow her. Instead, Breguilas wore a gown of flowing silver and black, a choker of deep carmine colored satin clasped at her throat with a small, mithril hammer. Upon her brow, a single multifaceted ruby glowed softly in a circlet of filigree gold; it shown with a deep inner light, for it was a gem crafted by the Noldor in a manner much like the Silmaril, although not so great in power or renown.
Galadriel stood near her Mirror, and appraised Breguilas with a look that spoke of curiousity, for she knew these marks, and spoke with a voice reflected such, "To what occassion do I owe such a stately visit, High Lady of the House of the Hammer?"
Breguilas did her best to smile; long had it been since that title had been used to honor her presence, and it made her as uncomfortable now as it did then, "Please, Lady Galadriel. We might do without such formality. I wear these garments only because they would afford me respite for the arrows of your wardens, had they found me. As it stands, they did not, though not through lack of effort."
Galadriel laughed softly, and shook her head, like an old friend who had long ago lost touch, "Indeed, that was always your desire. You could have led that House, but let your great-nephew do so instead. It is a shame your brother could not see him grow into the fine person he became before Gondolin fell. Yet...I sense this small talk and reminisce is not why you have so brazenly come before me, Alcániel Firendil?"
Breguilas flinched visibly, as if struck. Galadriel had always been able to see into the tangled web of fate, to pluck at its strings and see what things would come to pass. She knew precisely, and had used that name...her true, given name, and not the self-name she carried in this age...to emphasize the point.
"I would say, given that blow, Galadriel, you know precisely why I am here and what I intend to ask, as is often your way, and you know what it is I desire. Tell me then: Is there no way for an Elf to change what Fate has wrought in her designs? Am I doomed to this misery eternal, forever bound to be an outsider amongst my people?"
There was a depth of sadness to her words, and the pain of such written clearly across Breguilas' face, like an old wound that would not heal.
Galadriel sighed softly, and turned her gaze to the green grass beneath her feet,"Woe unto me that I ever taught Maeglin to harness his gift, and use it to wound you so, Alcániel. Such things were beyond my power then, and for this I am truly sorry. Yet I am afraid no solace will my answer give, for I can do naught. This fate is yours to bear, for you are to be the last of us to go West, and end be the true herald of the end of Elves upon Middle Earth."
"Why? Why must I bear this burden? I came here not of my own accord, Galadriel. I came because I was asked, because they -wished- for me to be here. I have done all they asked, I have pursued their ends for them, and I have suffered mightily at the hands of others because they wished for it. All this I have borne for them without question, without fear, and without hesitation, and THIS is what I receive for it? To be cursed as an outsider amongst my kin? To be alone for years uncounted? To find love and have it snatched away? Have the Valar no pity, Galadriel? Have they no quarter? Have they no damnable conscience?!", Breguilas railed, like a furious animal poked and prodded one time too many. Tears streamed from her eyes, both of sadness and frustration, anger and hopelessness.
"What more can I lay down for them, Galadriel? What final sacrifice do they demand of me, that I might know peace? All they desired, I have done, and still I am shackled to this yoke I never asked for, a fate crueler than poor Luthien, for at least in the end her love won through. Mine will be as but an empty blackness, an eternity spent missing what I had only briefly. Ten thousand times the seasons have come and gone, Galadriel. Not one, or two, but ten thousand!"
The Lady Galadriel said nothing, her face impassive as a stone. What could she say? In her heart, she felt perhaps Breguilas had some credulity to her arguement, but she was an Elf, and as beholden to the turns of fate as Breguilas was.
For a long time, nothing was said between the two, and then Breguilas rose from the stone where she had settled, her emerald green eyes bloodshot from tears. She heard Galadriel say something, perhaps abuot an escort, but Breguilas cared not. The arrows of the wardens of Lorien could take her, for all she cared.
The Lady Galadriel watched as Breguilas walked away, and then when she was gone, turned to her mirror, and sighed, "I am sorry, Alcániel, but you must believe the lie set before you. You have work yet to accomplish before your reward can be revealed to you, and your heart must be hard for the path ahead, lest you leave your charge unfulfilled. Were you not so distraught, the tears you weep would have been your clue, but such is the way of the Valar. Blessed Elbereth, I pray she does not break too soon."