Alloy

Mairon could not fathom how he had ended up here. For an unending foreverness he had roamed, a mere shadow of his spirit, not even trying to take form. With the undoing of the One Ring, he had become only an echo of himself even in the Unseen world. And in the perfect stillness of eternity, flowing leisurely or maybe running wildly — he could not gather — the Hymn arose. The remnants of his lacerated mind could recognise it, the Hymn he had once chanted himself. But now it sounded grander. His first urge — to join the distant choir — died in less than no time. He could no longer sing. The second urge was to take his own hearing, but he did not know how. And the Hymn tormented him. It would torment him forever. But a third urge came into being. A miniscule spark ignited in the void that he had become now. And Mairon reached out to the Hymn, yielding to this new urge. He wandered about in the sea of dark, and the Hymn could be enticingly near now, but barely audible the next moment. This torture was unending. Until all of a sudden, the Hymn engulfed him from everywhere and the emptiness dissipated, giving way to the views he had long forgotten. He saw boundless glens, mountains, piercing the clouds with their peaks, the majestic vastness of the sea, and the two Trees that could not be described with words. Their light scorched him, freeing this newly born world of the gaunt blight of him. But in the same light, the spark which had led him here from eternal darkness flared up. It grew bigger and brighter, until… Mairon realises with belated astonishment that he is choking. He needs to take a breath, only he does not recall how. His chest hurts as if constricted, and the world goes dark before his eyes. It seems he has his flesh renewed, though he has completely forgotten what it is like. And this flesh, barely embodied, gets cold already. His clouded eyes catch a glimpse of a maiden right in front of him. Somehow, she seems familiar… Mairon tries to focus his gaze and remember her. And then his legs give in — he is not sure if it is the lack of air or a sudden recognition — and a cry bursts out of his mouth, helping him to finally redeem his breath. He is kneeling in the grass, crying, and she hastily sits against him, locking eyes with him, her glance filled with dismay. ‘Galadriel,’ he whispers when the tears stop smothering him.

***

Artanis is singing under the canopy of Telperion, her favourite of the Two Trees of Valinor. At this early hour, the hill is desolate, and though she cherishes her kin and all those who come to sing here, at times she longs for solitude. But her solitude is no more. A man appears out of thin air next to the other Tree, Laurelin. He looks bewildered, frightened even… and somehow familiar, even though she is seeing him for the first time. ‘Do you need help? ’ She comes running, but he cannot hear her, it seems: he is shaking, and his face turns pale even in the golden light of the Tree. Artanis reaches her arm, so that he can hang upon it, but before she as much as touches him, the man falls to the ground and starts to… howl? The sounds gushing out of his chest are new to her and even more so the water running down his cheeks. All of this is so foreign and unnerving, but she cannot possibly abandon him. She sits in front of him and watches, with fluster and wonder, the watery trickles emerging from his eyes. ‘Galadriel,’ he whispers when he finally stops howling. He seems to mistake her for someone. Everyone calls her Artanis. And though mother calls her Nerwen, those are the only names she has been given yet. For she is still young, much like the world itself… Nonetheless, this name makes her wish to respond to it. ‘You are here, Galadriel,’ he continues, and his mouth blooms with a smile, crooked and hesitant at first, as if he cannot smile at all, but then blissful and consuming, reflected in his dark-green eyes. Something yearns in her heart, insufferable and desirable at once. She does not know who that Galadriel is, whose mere presence gives him such delight… But she wishes she was her. Why, though? They have just met; why does he seem so familiar? Why does she feel such longing for him? And how does she know his name in a tongue she has never heard? ‘Halbrand? ’ she asks on an impulse… And the watery streams that have just dried up on his cheeks start running anew. ‘Yes,’ he almost breathes out, laughing between these strange noises that follow the inexplicable rain from his eyes. ‘You’ve recognised…’ Artanis opens her mouth, aiming to tell him that she knows not how she came to know this name. But only a ragged breath escapes her chest. And a moment later, she realises that this mysterious malady which makes salt water — seawater! — run down from one’s eyes, has tainted her as well. And just like him, she laughs and catches shuddering breaths and even wails once or twice, unable to becalm her… tears! These are called tears! But how does she know such a thing? ‘Halbrand,’ she repeats firmly and touches his cheek, wet from top to bottom. ‘What does this name mean? I’ve never heard such a tongue…’ ‘It means I never ceased to love you, Galadriel, not even for a moment.’ His whole face lights with a beatific smile. ‘It means you have forgiven me. And I have also forgiven myself.’ What he speaks of and why he calls her that is beyond her. But her heart tells her he is not mistaken: this name is meant for her. And he, all that he is, is meant for her… This enigmatic person with human features, tangled hair, and lambent eyes the colour of green leaves after rain belongs to her. And they have all the time in the world to find out why.