The light in little strip of sky overhead gradually fades without the usual
bravado of sunset. Darker and darker it grows, and a single star peeps in, as
though even the beloved gems of Elbereth are choked and stifled outside of
Lorien. The complaint of the waterfall makes a half-hearted attempt at being
peaceful, but ends up just sounding like liquid falling on rocks.
Few would notice the lump tossed near the side of the wall, but there is a
figure covered in an elven-make cloak. Caelwen sleeps wrapped in her mantle
with her head pillowed on her pack. She breathes very slowly and easily, and
her freckled and bruised face is half-covered by her hood.
With only the barest shadow of a whisper, a figure slides into the narrow
opening from the main canyon. A pervading miasma of despair nonetheless
radiates from him; seen perhaps in the slope of shoulder, the line of neck.
Despite the dimness, and the concealing properties of the cloak, Lothdaimoth's
eyes go at once to where his cousin lays. And soundlessly, he makes his way to
stand beside her.
For long moments he looks down, eyes hidden in the shadow of his own cloak;
then he squats and reaches to touch her cheek with one hand. Just enough to
feel her breathing, and he is standing again, turning.
Simple easy, calm breaths slip in and out of Caelwen as she approached, and no
change is come over her immediately at the touch of fingers on her cheek. Her
cousin is already arising and turning away when her brows pinch vaguely
together. "Lothdaimoth...?" she murmers, as in a dream. Her eyes open,
unfocused, and do not look for him.
A small breath of stale air flows through the narrow cleft, the fading notes of
a sparrow's sorrowful song carried along by the wind.
Stopped in midstep, the counsel's eyes shut and a noiseless sigh slumps his
shoulders further. In the next moment, he has turned back again and crouches by
her side. "Yes." His voice is rough and tight. "I am here. I was just going to
- to look again. I came to see that you were all right." No movement is made to
push his hood back, and his face remains shadowed, its expression unknown. Only
faintly in the depths do dark eyes glitter.
Caelwen's head lifts and turns, but her eyes search for a time before they
focus on Lothdaimoth, though he is not far. A rather weak groan passes between
her lips as she raises herself up on an elbow. A pause. "Oh," she speaks in a
tired voice. "I had hoped.. Elbereth. That.. all is well." A sigh, and she lays
down again. "Be thou safe." Some real emotion finally enters her tone at this,
but her lashes drift downward and she drifts toward sleep again.
Lothdaimoth freezes. For long moments, no movement, no sound - only the
faintest rise and fall of his breath. His head turns to look back towards the
canyon's mouth, and he sways towards it - body driven by the intensity of the
fae's desire. But then his hand goes out to her shoulder. And forcing his voice
to gentleness, he says, "Caelwen. Is ought the matter? I .. shall I stay with
you a while?" Despite himself, a second desperate glance is sent downstream;
where, surely a broken body lies, perhaps yet breathing - one he will find if
only he searches hard enough.
A breath taken. Another one. Perhaps she does not hear. But finally... "Nay,"
Caelwen murmers. "'Tis important. Find him." Here she stills again, breath
growing slow and deep, but her hand lifts, strugging against the lethargy. Her
fingertips brush against the back of Lothdaimoth's hand at her shoulder. The
young Silvan's voice drops to a small whisper, difficult to hear below the
waterfall. "You'll come back?"
"Of course." Yet he lingers, torn between rising worry and an anguished urgency
that will not be denied. "I must find him. Tis unlikely, but what if he lives?
I cannot give up while there is the slightest hope." His voice begs for
understanding, for acceptance. But he cannot wait any longer. Compelled
irresistably from within, he straightens and takes a step away. Over his
shoulder he repeats. "I will return. I swear it." And the weight of this new
vow - its keeping under no power of his own - rests almost visibly on his
shoulders as he merges again into the darkening shadows and disappears.
Caelwen remains completely still after Lothdaimoth leaves, and for a long time
she melds into the boulders and stone as easily as if she were made to lie here
with them. More stars twinkle on, one by one shining down into the cleft from
far above. Finally, one winks on and peers at the young elf so far from home,
and traces the path of a tear that leaks from the corner of her eye, crosses
the bridge of her nose, and drops to the ground in silence.