The Awakening of Sadril

The Awakening of Sadril
Chapter 2: Dormant Feelings
by Sienna Dawn
Disclaimer: All familiar characters of this story belong to the awesome world and works of JRR Tolkien, who is an unparalleled genius of this genre. All unfamiliar and original characters, animals and places are of my own invention. I do not derive any monies from this work and created this story solely out of the love and respect that I hold for all of the works related to this canon.

Several weeks after Legolas and Gimli had arrived in the Grey Havens, Sadril continued in her struggle for her husband's life. Sitting beside his still form, she was lost in thought.

Sadril rejected the Healer's words, although she knew Nathor, as he was called, was doomed. She could not reconcile herself to accept the inevitable. After 30 years of marriage that it should come to this. Many times she had sadly climbed the tall peaks of the city to quietly contemplate the vast ocean. There she had poured out her grief, pleaded with the Valar to return Nathor to her, traded her immortality twice over, to have him back hale and whole. And yet the ocean remained silent, her pleas unanswered, the trade of her immortality for his life ignored.

Sadril knew Nathor had little time left. The pallor of his skin was gray and she could not detect his lifeforce any longer. Soon, his spirit would be free of its chains and fly. Where to, she wondered. What was the doom of men?

And she...what of her? She could not sail now. There were no more swan ships to take her to the Straight Road. Sadril had known this would be her doom; she had always known it. She chided herself. Why pretend otherwise? Yet, although she knew marriage to a mortal doomed her, she had not ancitipated this ending. Cruel, she thought. Such a cruel way to pass from the world.

When Nathor was no more, she would travel to Ithilien, or perhaps return to Gondor, and there try to find meaning to her existance. Love would not beckon her ever again. She had no children of her marriage to Nathor and it was not of her doing. Both had desperately wanted children and her heart had died the day she learned Queen Arwen had given birth. Why her, she had silently challenged the Valar. Why her and not me? Why am I different? Why?

But never were her questions answered.

She rose from the chair and left the room, anger boiling in her heart, tears blinding her. She walked out of the Healer's Hall and into the warm afternoon breeze, the light of the fading sun softly falling on her ebony hair.

Sadril walked without direction, not realizing she wept as she walked, the pit of her despair so deep she did not register the sound of hammering and banging coming from the lower quays.

As Sadril half ran toward the now-empty marina, her weeping turned to sobs and she finally stopped and leaned against a massive stone pillar which rose from the sea floor. For long minutes she sobbed, leaning her back against the column, lettting the sea breeze calm her, and watched the water lap gently at the shoreline below her.

She did not realize that immediately below her two sets of ears and eyes watched and listened attentively.

After a while, Sadril, now calm, left the marina and made her way back to Nathor.

Back on the dry docks, below the marina, Legolas still watched the elf maid as she wound her way out of the docks. Gimli let out his breath.

"Now, that is a thing one does not often see."

Legolas frowned and finally turned to look at his friend, "What is that, Gimli?" Legolas reached for a long nail. The memory of the sad weeping was still fresh in his heart.

"The sight of a weeping elf." Gimli began sawing a piece of wood in half.

"Nay, my friend." Legolas answered in a soft voice, forcing his eyes back to his work. "The elves weep. There are many ways to shed tears, Gimli." For a brief moment he allowed himself to feel the longing the elf maid had radiated in massive waves. Why had it touched him so? Frowning, Legolas gave the nail a solid whack with the stone hammer and drove it completely into the wooden beam.

Gimli arched his eyebrows. Suddenly he realized the elf maid had disturbed Legolas. But why? Slyly he studied the blonde elf at his side and saw the subtle change in his demeanor. Well, it might be an entertaining Summer after all.

Turning his attention to the work at hand, he said nothing, but did not miss the look of concentration on Legolas' otherwise placid features.

Yes, thought Gimli to himself...the maid's weeping had disturbed the normally stoic elf.

~*~*~*~*~

Days later, Legolas had already learned who the mysterious weeping maid was. The city was, after all, sparsely populated and it was not difficult to learn a thing or two. He knew her name was Sadril of Imladris and that her husband was a mortal, a captain of King Elessar's guard. He knew the couple had met when Arwen travelled to Gondor for the celebration of her marriage to Elessar, and had taken the maid along as part of her entourage. He also knew that the man, named Nathor, had become ill and was slowly wasting away.

Legolas was a gentle elf, but he also knew the hardships of life and had grown accustomed to veiling pain with other interests. Yet, he could not stop his fascination with the elf maid. The memory of her weeping, the long black tresses flowing free of her shoulders, the anguish of her heart, these things had seared themselves into his soul and he knew, without wanting to know, that his heart was beginning to clamor for a thing he knew he had no right to feel.

He and Gimli had been in the city for two months and work on the ship was going well. Still, he was loathe to go. Not yet, something said...not yet.

"Well," said Gimli, the dwarf's words interrupting Legolas' reverie, "I think we will be done by the beginning of winter. Do you not think so, my lad? And it does not look as bad as I thought it would." The dwarf stood back, wiping his brow and contemplating the half-built vessel.

Legolas turned his dark blue eyes and contemplated their handiwork. He smiled sadly, "Yes, Gimli. 'Tis a fine ship."

Gimli shrugged, "Tis no ship, my lad...more like an over-sized canoe, if you ask me."

But Legolas was walking away from the dry dock, leaving Gimli to harrumph to himself. The dwarf looked down at the boat. "This will never work. Who ever heard of dwarves building ships?"

Shaking his head, Gimli put the tools away for the day and set off to find a tankard of ale and some dinner. He knew what assailed Legolas and really didn't want to get involved. Beside, he arched his back. By the Valar, he was tired!

~*~*~*~*~

Legolas walked silently through the empty city streets, the soft glow of the tall mithril lamps above him lighting the way. The sun had set hours before.

Finally, he reached the Healer's Hall but did not enter. He did not need to. He already knew...he already could feel her anguish.

He waited, his eyes sad, and sat beneath a wide awning opposite the entrance to the Healer's Hall. What he waited for he did not know. All he knew was that he had to be there.

Hours later, when the stars were high above, Legolas heard loud voices from inside the Hall and he quickly rose to his feet. Watching the building intently, he saw Sadril emerge, her face flushed with anger. The Healer who walked beside her urgently expressed his opinion only to be waved down by the slender raven-haired female.

Legolas' hearing was keener than most elves' but the distance between himself and the other two was but a few feet so their words came clearly to him.

Obviously the man was not dead as he had thought, but barely alive. He could hear that the Healer tried to make the female understand the reality of the situation, but Sadril refused to accept it. That much was clear to Legolas.

Standing in the gloom, they had not seen him and he was uncomfortable in his hidden position, so he moved into the light of the lamps' glow.

At once the other two fell silent. Legolas could feel the weight of Sadril's gaze on him. He knew she had no idea who he was although the Healer was well acquainted with the Prince of Mirkwood.

From behind Sadril, the Healer bowed politely, in deference to Legolas' rank, but Sadril did not see this. She merely frowned at the tall elf and turned away, walking downhill, away from the Hall. Legolas and the Healer were left alone.

"Her husband?" asked Legolas, walking closer to the Healer.

"Fares worse, my Lord." Answered the Healer. "I doubt he shall live through the winter."

"And what of her?" Legolas asked quietly, turning to look toward the path that Sadril had taken.

"She will stay until he is no more." Answered the Healer, following Legolas' gaze, "After that I do not know. Imladris is deserted and Lorien is all but faded."

Legolas nodded, "Yes, I know." He turned his fair face to the Healer. "Will she not sail?"

The Healer shook his head, "Nay, she says she will go to Ithilien or Gondor where her husband's kindred dwell."

Legolas considered this information for a moment, but said nothing. He realized the Healer was speaking to him about Gimli.

He frowned and turned his full attention to the Healer's face. "What say you?"

"The dwarf, Gimli, he came to see me two days past."

Legolas frowned. Gimli? He arched an eyebrow. "And what did you find?"

The Healer looked steadily into Legolas' dark blue eyes and quietly responded, "My Lord, I believe he has the wasting disease."

Disclaimer: All familiar characters are owned by JRR Tolkien and are used without permission. No monies are being made from this work.

Graphics copyrighted Cari Buziak