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LIKE MAGIC Sarah Blake
Breached. The city was breached. The enemy was inside the walls. She could hear the screams of those poor souls who were even now encountering them; hear the cries of the warriors; the clash of weapons. She could hear them as clearly as if they were in the room with them- There was no time to dwell on this. She needed to save as many as she could. And that started with her son. "Stand still." He obediently did so, although he obviously, desperately wished to look out of the window, to see what was causing all the noise; and as she finished fastening his cloak around his neck he shifted in discomfort. "Mama, it's too hot to wear my cloak." "It'll be colder where we're going." "Mama, what's going on outside?" She paused in her work for just a moment, to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled not with fear, but with curiosity, and courage - the courage he had inherited from his father. Long ago she might have told a white lie, to comfort him; but she knew that at this time, ignorance was certainly not bliss. "There is evil trying to get into the city, my son. We must flee, while we have time." "I won't flee before danger!" he cried; and as she looked upon his bold, brave, beautiful little face, Idril Celebrindal had never been more proud of her son. For what seemed like the thousandth time, she gave thanks and praise in her heart to the Valar, who had brought her and her beloved husband together, and given them such a child. "My son," she said as gently as she could, as she crouched in front of him, and clasped his shoulders with her hands, "I know you want to fight. That is the way of a warrior. But there are times when the best course is to flee from a greater foe; and wait until you are ready to combat it." "You would have me abandon our city? Abandon Gondolin?" he asked softly. "Gondolin is doomed, Eärendil. I do not mind admitting it. It was doomed ever since your grandfather heeded not the bidding of Ulmo. There is nothing to be done for the city. But I would have you live to against the evil yet," she replied. "I know you are brave, my son, but you are still only a child. And think of your people." She gazed solemnly into his blue eyes. "Think of all the wives and maidens and children. Think of all the youths, younger than you. Would you have them fall to the swords of the evil ones? Would you have them cut down, like flowers, scythed down to the last petal?" Eärendil's eyes were over bright with unshed tears, and he threw his arms around her neck. His voice came muffled into her neck. "I am sorry, Mama. I just want to stop the evil. I want it to stop. I want to stop it." Idril wrapped her arms around him in return. "And so you will, my son; when you are grown. For I know you are destined for great things, my little star. One day, you will play as great a part in this war as any of the warriors now. But not yet. Not yet." She pulled him close, holding him close; wanting desperately to hold him and never let go; then she released him, and held his shoulders at arms length. She looked solemnly into his eyes again "Now, Eärendil, you must listen very carefully. When we go out there we will be in very great danger. I want you to stay with me at all times, do you hear me?" "What are we going to do?" She felt she had to lie now, if only to keep her son from being terrified and panicking. Though he spoke bravely, he was still only a child, and there were some things that children should not know or see. The Valar knew she was secretly afraid of what they were about to encounter. "We're going to disappear. Do you remember the court magicians; how they can make things vanish?" "Yes?" "Well, that is what we are going to do. And other people are going to disappear with us. So we can be safe." "Just like magic?" "Just like magic." "Will Atar disappear too?" Idril bit her lip, as she looked as his innocent little face. "Yes, if he can, Atar will disappear too. Now, quickly, we must hurry." Straightening up, she clasped his hand, and picked up her bow and quiver of arrows, slinging both over her shoulder. "Come." She turned to the door way… …which was already open, even though it had been shut not a minute ago. She let go of her son's hand, and pushed him behind her; pulling the bow off her back again. He clung to her skirts, no longer an aspiring warrior but simply a little boy, afraid of the unknown, in the dark of the corridor. Carefully, not taking her eyes off the darkness, she reached behind her; pulled out an arrow from the quiver, fitted it to the string effortlessly, the way Tuor had taught her. But even her keen eyesight could see nothing in the darkness of the corridor. Nothing at all. She took a step forward- Eärendil screamed. She turned around swiftly; but too late, much too late… That
hated voice hissed in her ear. "Can you run now? I think not, cousin. I
think not." * * *
Tuor raced through the deserted corridors of the palace, the blood from his enemies still fresh upon him, soaking his clothes, reaching through to his very skin; his breath coming from his lungs in great gasps. Idril! Eärendil! Where are you? No sign of them in their rooms, no sign of them in the halls; no sign - yet they surely would not have left the palace…would they? No, Idril was wise, she would not endanger herself and their precious, precious child. But where then had she gone? Taking their son with her? He rounded a corner; slammed into something warm and solid, which screamed; that assured him that it was no enemy. He drew back; the terrified face of one of Idril's maids stared back at him. "My Lord Tuor! What-" "The Lady Idril! Where is she?" She shook under his gaze. "I - I do not know, my lord. I haven't seen her; I couldn't find her! I looked for her, but she's vanished! Disappeared! The Lord Eärendil as well!" She seemed on the point of hysteria. "I can't find them anywhere!" "Then don't look any further. Get out of here. Gondolin is doomed. Make for the secret passage your mistress told you about." With that he ran on past her; making for the entrance to the palace. Idril! Idril! Where are you? He barged into someone else; a guard this time. "Lord Tuor!" "Have you seen her?" "The Lady Idril, my lord? She is safe. I saw her but a little while ago, with the Lord Eärendil. They were with the Lord Maeglin." Tuor felt as if he been hit hard in the stomach. "Maeglin? You let him take my wife and child?" The guard stepped back, awed by his sudden ferocity. "He…he was leading them to safety. I did not wish to challenge him-" "You fool! Where did he take them? Where?" "I do not know, my lord! I do not know! They have disappeared!" If I have anything to do with it, they will reappear, Tuor thought frantically, as he pushed past the guard with a snarl, bounding away along the corridor. Oh Idril, my love, my heart, where are you? He would find his wife and child. And where he found them, he would find Maeglin. All the
better. Then he would make Maeglin disappear. * * *
Don't call me that. Do not dare to call me that, you blood traitor. Idril cast a dark glance at the foul thing but a few paces away, holding her beloved, struggling child, her life gift, in its loathsome clutches. But no more loathsome that the one who held her. "Only you would find such a view attractive, Maeglin," she spat, her skin crawling at the feel of his arms around her waist, the tremor of his breath upon her bare shoulder, pulling her back against him; and the cold wind blowing in upon the Caragdûr which chilled her skin further, as well as fanning the flames in the city. How she hated him, loathed him; and even more now that she knew what he had done, what treachery he had committed; the fates he had condemned so many to; the shadow which he had wittingly sold his fellows to. To her, that was more poisonous than any orc. "And only you could speak so lightly when your own people are suffering and dying, as a result of your treachery." "Cruel words, cousin, and brave; but they will do you no good now. The city is breached, Morgoth will triumph - and I will rule by his will." Oh Tuor! Help me! Save me, beloved! Save us! Tuor knew Maeglin as well as she did, however little she desired to do so; surely? Surely he would know that Maeglin would come here, in his triumph? Surely he would know?... He would come for her. She knew it. He would come for them both. I will not fear, beloved. I will not fear. "So you betrayed your people, your city, your kindred, yourself…just so that you would rule the city under the Dark One's hand?" She poured into her words all the scorn, all the hatred and all the loathing that she had ever held back in courtesy; all the barriers built up in her mind to protect herself against him, against his glances and half smiles; against the certain knowledge of what he wanted from her, and the even more certain knowledge that for him to obtain what he wished would mean her oblivion. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! "Hast hit it, cousin," came his voice, trickling into her ears, her senses, like honey; but bitter as bile to her mind. "And yet there is more to it than just the city." "And what is that?" Idril said, keeping her eyes on the horizon, even though smoke from the city was beginning to make her eyes water and her lungs burn; and the sound of the flames eating her home made her ears ring and scream - just like the sounds of those fighting and dying. "You." So simple a word, and yet enough to make her vomit! "Do you think that I betrayed Gondolin simply to rule it? No. I did it for you, Idril. I did it all for you. I have always done everything for you, Idril! I left my home and came to this city, for you! I abandoned my father, my kin, for you! I have spent years untold, skulking in the shadows, watching you walk in the light! I have waited and waited, and now you will be mine!" Abruptly, his harsh embrace twisted her so that she bit her lip not to cry out in pain; pulled her so that she no longer looked out over the mountain range, but instead was forced to gaze into the terrible eyes of her cousin. They were ablaze with passion; she felt that she could see insanity personified in those wild orbs. "You - and the city. It will all be mine, at last." "Tuor will stop you." Her voice came in a whisper, as if it was her throat that had been twisted, her voice strained. And his mouth twisted cruelly in reply. "If he manages to survive; and I doubt that very much. Avid fighter he may be, but against even the least of Morgoth's forces he will be no match." The cruelty of his smile froze her blood. "Besides, I have ensured a special party will find him and - deal with him. Let that teach him to gain your father's favour and love." "Why do you hate him so?" she hissed, letting her hatred get the better of her again - she could not sit by and let the life of her lover, her husband, be gambled away because of the ancient grudge of a hated foe. "What did he ever do to you?" "He did nothing. It was you, Idril, my beautiful, poisonous little Silver-foot, who sealed his fate, and your own, and that of all of Gondolin - when you took one of the Edain to be your mate. It is your treachery that caused the flames, and the screams in the streets, and the blood that flows; and the city to fall to Morgoth - your treachery to all of us." "No - it is my love. And it did not cause this. You caused this, Maeglin, just as you caused the death of your father, and your mother, and my people. They are all gone, because of you. All gone. You think I would have cleaved to you, if I had never met Tuor? Because if you thought that, you are wrong." His hissing breath made him sound like a snake; but Idril was going to finish, whatever the costs. Her city, her whole life, her whole world was burning and destroyed and dying and disappearing because of this - this thing, who held her and would not let her go, would not set her free; who had been coiled inside her life ever since her beloved aunt Aredhel was found and lost again so soon, in such a cruel way; poisoning her existence even with Tuor, her heart, her life, bringing her hope. "I hate you, Maeglin. No, I do not even hate you; for you would twist my words and say that hate is only love with its back turned. You are nothing to me. You are dead! Dead!" And with that, she abandoned herself to fate; she hissed and spat, right into his face. At once the sword of the other goblin guard was at her throat, and its arm around her waist; but he only smiled at her, as he carefully wiped her spittle away. "Dear me, cousin. The Edain has rubbed off on you. You are behaving less and less like a lady every moment. But that will soon be changed. Everything burns; and your old life will be burnt away with it; and you will come out new." He spoke as if he were rambling; but she could see the deadly purpose in his eyes. And despite her fury, her burning hatred of him, she was afraid. Yes, he still terrified her, even as she looked upon him and loathed him. The terrible half crazed, half sane eyes turned away from her at last, and towards the one holding Eärendil. She had almost forgotten that her child was there - for a time, all that had seemed to exist was he and she, and her hatred for him, and his harrowing love for her. But now she was fully aware of her child's presence, so innocent and helpless, his eyes wide at their violent exchange; and she suddenly felt as if she would vomit with pure fear. Maeglin leant forward and ruffled the boy's hair; her precious one grimaced but made no movement - he is wise, even for his young years, she could not help thinking, despite the situation. Maeglin laughed to see his expression, and straightened again. "Cast the half-spawn off the Caragdûr," he said, casually, as if he were ordering his cape to be brought to him; but all the time with evil glee twisting his wretched face. "No!" The scream was torn from her lips, as she wriggled and twisted, trying desperately to break free from the orc's grip. "Maeglin, I beg you, no! Spare my child! Take me, if you wish; I will willingly marry you!" Oh Tuor, forgive me! "I will wed you, no matter the cost!" It was all the more cruel that he met her eyes as he spoke. "You will marry me, Idril, willingly or not. And it would be terrible for our marriage to be blighted with remnants of your former one - but then again, marriage to animals does not truly count, does it?" Already the creature was pulling her little star to the edge, screaming, kicking and biting the whole way; yet the orc held him in a grip like iron, and he could do no more than yell. "Mama! Mama! Don't let him do it! Don't let him kill me, Mama, don't let him!" No! No! Oh, Valar, no! "For the grace of Elbereth!" came her scream, sounding more like a night-ghast than her own voice, as she fought tooth and nail, trying to reach her boy; but the creature holding her back might as well have been made of stone. "Would you murder an innocent child in cold blood?" "I am gone beyond cold, Idril," her cousin whispered. "Heat burns in my veins, even as it runs through the city. Innocent children die in the streets; what is one more? And he a half blood brat?" The orc was at the edge now; holding her darling, her life, squirming in its arms; a hand clamped over his mouth to muffle his high-pitched screams. But his blue eyes, wide and desperate, sought out her own in terror; and she would not look away, even as she saw him fall to his death; she would not let him see her face turned away from him. For this moment he was still here; still living. I love you, my little star. I love you. And now she could see nothing; her vision was so clouded with tears, her throat so choked with sobs, that she could hardly breathe, could not see. A sudden scream, trailing away; and she felt her heart wither and freeze and die within her. Oh, let me only die. Let me only follow my son… But no; this voice was far too low for Eärendil's high, fluting tone; and it was not truly fading - just turning into gurgling and the jarring of lungs. And suddenly the grip around her was gone; no longer restrained she fell forwards onto her knees, and the pain shot up through them as she heard something crack. For an instant she thought it was her own bone; but then another gargle convinced her otherwise, and though her legs blazed with pain, she did not believe the agony came with a break. But why was she thinking of this, when Eärendil… "Mama!" It was the most beautiful thing Idril had ever heard, as her arms came up at once and her precious boy raced into them, and threw his own around hers. Now she truly was crying; she could feel the heat upon her cheeks, her sobs coming from far, far away. But he was here, in her arms. Safe. Safe. Thank you, Elbereth. Thank you. "It's all right, Mama," came his beloved little voice, seemingly much nearer than her crying. "I'm here. I'm here." "I thought I'd lost you," she managed to stutter. "I'm back." But
there were other noises, further away… * * *
The orcs had been little more than brute muscle - but Maeglin was clever, even if he was insane. This would be difficult. But Maeglin must die. He had to. And he could not say that he was sorry at the idea. Idril was sobbing behind him on the floor, obviously unable to be of any help at the moment - besides, they had evidently unarmed her - and he would not dream of asking her to exert herself again, after what she had just suffered. One look at her face had been enough to convince him once and for all; Maeglin would die. And he would be the one to kill him. The doomed being held his own sword, probably unaware that he had ensured his own death; a faint smile tracing his lips. "Well, here we are again - cousin," he added, slowly, insolently. "I assure you, Maeglin, I have no pleasure myself at the connection. We come to it at last." "Indeed, cousin." "This was what you always wanted, wasn't it, Maeglin?" He hoped to keep the elf talking as long as possible, that he might distract him, and some way overcome him. "Yes. You had it all; my uncle's love and favour; Idril; a giggling half caste brat. You wanted everything that should have been mine." There was nothing in Maeglin's face but pure hatred. "And now I want you; skewered on my sword, like the animal that you are." The attack came suddenly, but Tuor was expecting it; swiftly he parried the blow and forced Maeglin back. He was shocked by how much force was behind the blow; the elf clearly had been granted the strength of the insane. Such mad fury could not be overcome by strength of arms, or even strength of will. But perhaps by strength of height… Stealthily he began to drive Maeglin backwards, knowing full well what he was doing as Maeglin did not seem to; the elf seemed content only to try to wound him, never caring about where they were going. Step by step, he steadily herded his unwitting cousin across the stones, parrying and dodging his enemy's blade every inch of the way. Just a little closer…a little closer… And then Maeglin stumbled as the carved stone gave way to bare rock, and cast a glance behind him; the concentrated fury in his face ebbed away, as he turned back to stare at Tuor. If it were possible, his pale face went a little paler. "No." "Yes, cousin. Go the same way your father did; the same way you would have sent my son." Tuor jabbed out at him, stretching out his arm as he forced the elf back, making him drop his sword. "You would not force me off, surely, cousin?" Maeglin did not cower back from his blade, so close to his chest, but stood his ground; his face was even paler now, but his lips curved almost in a smile. "Even the mighty Tuor would not do such a thing." "True." Tuor lowered his sword. "He would do this." Maeglin was certainly not expecting the blow to his shoulder when it came; it knocked him off balance; with a desperate shriek he scrabbled for some, any, hold. But Tuor had already stepped out of the way of his flailing arms; and swiftly delivered a kick at his legs, depriving him of any ground to stand upon. It was inevitable; the elf lost his footing, and fell backwards and backwards and backwards, into space. In the brief glimpse of his cousin's face before it vanished from view; he saw Maeglin was not looking at him, but beyond him, his eyes fixed upon some shape or form. His bloodless lips formed a single word… Idril… Then he was gone; his silent shock erupting into a scream; falling and screaming, screaming and falling; the screams cutting through the terrible night; the image of falling cutting through his mind. He heard the crunch as a body hit rock, which only checked the shrieks for an instant before they continued, fainter and yet the more hideous for it; but he had turned away as soon as he had seen Maeglin mouth that word as he fell away from life. He did not watch even as he heard the elf hit the rocks twice more, screaming all the way down, until at last the odious noises died away, and Maeglin's unequalled suffering was finally ended. He looked only to his wife and child, trying to cut the cries out of his head as he held Idril in his arms, letting her cry softly into his hair and shoulder; reaching out to embrace Eärendil … Where was his son? He looked up over his wife's heaving head, as she gasped and sobbed; to see a shape over by the edge. For a single, horrible instant he thought that Maeglin had somehow managed to find his way back up, and even now was bearing down with a sword to kill them; but then Idril looked and saw as well. "Eärendil! No! Stay away from the edge! Come back here!" She stretched out a hand, shifting against him, calling for her child to obey. And he came; but came as if he was walking in his sleep, his little face pale and solemn. When he reached them, huddled on the ground, he flung himself into their embrace, and they closed around him, their son. Tuor held him so close, and Idril so close; he ached to hold them, and never let them go, ever again. "He's gone," the boy mumbled, into his jerkin. "Yes. He's gone, my son. He'll never harm any of us, ever again." "Disappeared." His wife choked back a sob, as she buried her face in his curls. There was a silence; then his young voice, clear though buried in the material of cloth, spoke again. "Just like magic." And Tuor felt his heart break at the thought of what he, all unwittingly, had done to his son - that he had taken his childish innocence away from him, forever - as he replied softly, "Yes. Just like magic."
© Sarah Blake |
