O Diary! Oh, oh, oh, I cannot believe it, yet -- it is true!
We had completed the research on the aurochs. More than that, I cannot say. It pained all of us to do, especially when one of the tiny calves -- a little fellow I dubbed Utep, after a Dwarf I knew ever so long ago -- attached himself to me. (I have tasked Ràmarilla with watching my own garden and those of the nearby Houses. Spring will come soon, and we simply cannot have poor little Utep eating every celebrant shoot in sight, nor... well, the purgative effects of high doses of milk-thistle... just no. If I must send word to the Dùnadan hideaway at Esteldín to bring me meadowsweet, periwinkle, or butterbur to grow for the creature instead, then I must, although it will strain the budget. We owe his kind much.)
And so this past week, Norliriel and Elvealin and I wandered by the stream and talked much. We had come to an impasse within ourselves: clearly the antidote worked on beasts, but was that enough? Could we say to Tûr, that we had thoroughly finished the project, when no two-legged being had yet been cured with the antidote? Obviously waiting for another military deployment and closely following whoever might be stabbed with a poisoned blade was out of the question. And to test on a captive? No, no, a thousand times no, for that would put us on no better footing than the very Goblins that slew Themodir with their foul poison. There is no Easterling, no Man of Harad, no Dunlander who deserves such a cruel fate, and as for the yrch and their smaller kin... they may deserve it, but the Eldalië are not the race who use it. We are the children of the Valar -- we slay, but do not torture.
In our wandering we drifted apart: Norlië and Elvealin went off in one direction, and I slipped inside. I have been fascinated with the star-book Anglador used to draw his various conclusions, and which also told my darling of the fate he would face. I have just about got a handle on how astronomers predict the rising of Varda's gems, but the why of it all still eludes me. I am afraid I fell into something of a trance, reading the ancient tome and searching for the means by which Anglador declared, for example, that the alignment of Calmacil and the evening star signified a connection between Norlië and me.
Then the door opened behind me, without even a knock. It was one of the few I would allow to do such a thing -- my dear kinsman, Meluilindelë. But his face was sober, and his brows knit. Something was clearly amiss.
Melui told me he had just returned to the Houses for some books he had left there, but also that Norlië was in the second of the two and wanted me. Diary, my house shares a back yard with the two Houses! Why could she not come herself? Melui would not say, only that he had been bidden to summon me, and that she wanted me.
A dreadful realization, Diary: I knew at once how she had likely solved the problem, but I did not want to believe it. I flew across the lawns, with Melui at my heels, and ran up-stairs to find Norlië stretched out on the bed there, with Elvealin attending her. She was dreadfully pale, I mean whiter than the Noldor normally appear, and was holding a freshly bandaged wound in her shoulder. I demanded to know if my suspicions were true, and they were. Norlië had poisoned herself with a small wound, and then taken the antidote. O Diary! Had we not been correct in our choice of ingredients, and their exact proportions... I could have lost her, my oath-sister, skilled healer and harper and jewel-smith alike.
But she gained colour, though her pulse was weak, and Elvealin assured me that Norlië could sit up and swallow both tea and bits of lembas. And she begged my forgiveness, again and again. And all I could think of, and I know not why, was Themodir as he lay dying on the path to the Last Homely House, and how bravely he had struggled against the pain as Tûr hastily married us... it was all too much, and I fear I turned and sobbed on Melui, great heaving sobs. I probably owe him a new robe. I slipped, Diary, and called her by a name she only told me recently -- the pet name her parents had for her. I called this out twice, and wept more, for her pain, Themodir's, mine, all that we have all suffered.
Had I been there earlier, I should have tried to stop her -- but would I not have been wrong to do so? For now we know to a certainty that our people may be cured by the swift application of Norliriel's Fire. So I have named it, for it swirls red and golden, and shines in the vial.
At the Hall of Fire this week, I was relieved to see she could stand, and talk with others as usual, although she did not take wine. Hir Tindir was there, and Lady Ambassador Tingruviel, and Caun Danel -- and then we were gifted by a visit from Lady Amorey, the Perian minstrel, who had been in the Valley and meant to leave. But not before she sang us a lovely little tune of her people, and indulged in yet another of Telpenaro's cakes -- this one mint-flavoured, with fresh mint and berries mingling within it like spring.
Norliriel knelt before Danel and begged her forgiveness. The gentle Lady urged her to stand up, and every one present -- Mirenviel, I believe the one elleth's name was, and a new ellon I knew not, and Naris the bard, and many others -- marvelled at Norliriel's bravery. I called her ancalime imbi eleni, brightest among stars, and of course for my own part I forgave the terrible risk she had taken. For now no one need suffer as Themodir did. Tindir let slip that he felt more of the antidote would be needed -- as soon as the special rose bushes are transplanted in, we can set to making more. We discussed this with Tingruviel at the very end, after most had gone -- what he could mean, and whether perhaps we mean to march East after all.
Tathlas was there, and this made me glad, for we used several of the herbs he had sent among others in our preparation. I told him so, and he stood amazed.
I told Danel that Norlië and I had had the same thought -- that just enough of the substance to wet a fingertip should be touched to the capstone of my handsome and brilliant darling's cairn. For in that shared dream, he suffered yet. He still bore his sickly pallour, and though he was clad in soft clothing, it was evident he still bore his terrible wound across his chest. Danel said she had never before heard of anointing a cairn, but she saw the sense of it, and agreed that any thing we might do to ease my darling's spirit, to let him finally rest well in the company of Lord Namó, might be done.
I wished that Sergeant Daegond might be notified, for Themodir loved him truly and well -- it was always my love who helped me see the nobler and better side of Daegond. And now he is my brother, so he declares himself, and I am glad of it -- beneath the rough surface, I now know, lies one of the true gems of the Noldor. And of course Tûr himself will want to know. Caun Danel asked whom I wanted present when we go to the cairn, and I simply told her, any one who knew and loved Themodir or wished to pay their respects -- but that I would not force any one, for though we celebrate the cure, it is too late for the one I would have longed to make better with it. At least perhaps, his fëa will now know peace.
O Diary! So many brave folk helped. Elvealin was along on the expedition where the mushroom was collected from the Drownholt -- a different one from the one they had sought, but as it turns out, effective when combined with the other ingredients. Tathlas, of course, was invaluable. So many great and wise minds contributed to this. It is not my victory and Norlië's alone -- it belongs to so many, and I wish that each who contributed in some way shall be embraced and guided by the Valar for their noble contributions.
Melui was at the gathering this week, but slipped up to the gallery and, when we brought him cake, would not eat. I divined that he was fretting over Losgael, and so quickly left him to his thoughts. I will also ask Tûr to name what Melui's "quest of worth" must be, for the two are profoundly attached, and they deserve to marry. Some one, Diary, some one must have a happiness unthwarted before we all sail into the West or fade into memory.
It is a true thing, and my star-crowned partner in healing has done more than I could have asked of her or any one. O my noble and brave Themodir! You, who paid with your life, and walked into your doom knowing it would come! Can you now know some peace? Will it satisfy you, to look down upon our works, and know that none need ever suffer the exact fate you did? When we all reach the Undying Lands, I hope you will smile on Norliriel, for her bravery -- though it did not wear metal armour -- was very like your own: she marched into danger, though it might cost her own life, to protect others. O Themodir! One day, one day when I have finished my work over here... one day, we shall embrace at last, and be glad, and have a silver-haired son and call him Galadhion, even as you wished.
None need suffer the same fate. O Diary! I have met many brave and wise Noldor, not only him I married, but surely this day, Norlië is the queen of all her kindred.
