Chapter VI: Left Behind
Forever me and forever you
Solitude
Only you, Only true
Everyone leaves me stranded
Forgotten, abandoned left behind
I can't stay here another night
However, Erestor's indifferent pose gave way to plain anguish as a moan muffled by the thick wooden door reached his sharp ears. He paled visibly and his right hand came to rest against his chest, as though trying to contain the wild beating of his heart. Alcanarmo's son struggled to regain his indifferent composure but, in spite of all his efforts, he could not help biting his cheek in a childish gesture that made him appear much younger than he was indeed. Apparently displeased with his lack of strength, he shook his head, uncaring of the wild raven locks that fell in his face. He did little to push back the wayward strands, preferring to remain hidden behind the silky curtain like a frightened deer seeking shelter from avid predators.
But this state of peace lasted no longer than a brief moment. The door he was facing turned on its hinges, revealing a sweet-faced maiden whose long dress brushed his knees as she walked by him, smiling softly at him as he huddled against the wall. But Erestor did not see the kindness of the smile nor the complaisance in her gentle eyes. The youth had only eyes for the dreadful sight of the bloodied tissues she was carrying in a discreet basket and, as a shiver ran the length of his spine, he felt his blood turn cold in fear. Healers had tried to convince him to wait somewhere else but he had refused, wishing to be close to her. He straightened himself, trying to glance inside the dark room where his mother was. But someone closed the door before he had time to catch any sign of her presence.
A soft sigh escaped his lips and Erestor seemed to retreat further within himself, the faint gleam of awareness fading from his eyes. He then resumed his silent contemplation of the white wall in front of him, his long limbs agitated by a faint motion of balancing. He let his mind wander far from this place, far from his fears. He tried to imagine his life with a sister at his side; a child who would look upon him for guidance and love, who would bring back a sparkle of joy in his mother's eyes. He did not know how a brother was supposed to behave but he was sure of one thing: He would love and protect her in the same way as he took care of his mother.
Another cry broke his reverie, sounding through the empty corridor; its origin unmistakable. He would have recognized this voice anywhere, even if its lilting quality was filled a raw and heart-wrenching pain.
It was his mother's voice. It was his Naneth who was behind those thick unwelcoming walls, separated from him by that closed door, suffering alone in giving birth to his baby sister. She was alone... This simple thought made him wish to cover his ears and flee more than the screams he had heard or the blood on the hands of the healers when they left the room in a hurry. He felt helpless...useless, sitting there when all she needed was a loving touch to comfort her, a tender caress to appease her pain, a soft hand to hold hers when the pain became too much to bear.
Time seemed to slow even more, each minute an agony of endless waiting. Every time the door opened, he would raise eyes filled with hope and be disappointed once more when the Elf leaving the room would pass in front of him without a glance. His body was numb and anything beyond who passed that door had lost every kind of interest. He almost did not notice when his mother's painful cries turned into pitiful moans before completely fading. Silence fell on the small room to be suddenly shattered by the angered tears of a new-born babe.
It was only then that the raven-haired youth emerged from his dreaming stance, his tired eyes staring at the door as though the most awaited miracle had happened. And, in a way, it had.
He did not know what he had expected after this. Perhaps a healer coming to seek him out so that he might be introduced to his little sister. Perhaps he had imagined himself bending over a small bundle resting against his mother's breast. However, never had he expected the mayhem that suddenly broke out. The door opened violently; a distressed voice resounded, "Find Lienilde!" and someone ran through the long corridor, uncaring of the few Elves he bumped into.
As much as he wished he could, Erestor could not bring himself to react to those sudden motions. He turned his head in the direction of the running Elf, blood beating violently against his temples like a drummer that had suddenly gone mad, frozen as his mind refused to acknowledge the horrible truth.
'Something has happened.'
The words were spinning in his ears until they were no more than a strong annoying buzz. His gaze was caught by the open door from where clear sounds of agitation escaped. Two Elves entered the room with apprehension and he stared at their tense features as they disappeared through the doorway, dread growing in his heart. Like a broken doll, he managed to stand and to approach the door, his steps unsure as his lithe silhouette clearly stood out in the frame of the door.
All of sudden, he felt light-headed to the point of fainting, his legs that trembled beneath him threatening not to bear him any longer as he took in the forbidden sight of his mother's room. A young Elleth was standing in a corner, holding a crying bundle of swaddling clothes in her graceful arms. But his eyes didn't linger on her for long, pulled to the great bed where his mother was lying still and unconscious, surrounded by three healers. It was only then that he noticed the source of the worry agitating the room.
Blood...Blood everywhere, soaking the sheets that had once been of the purest white, soiling the pale skin of the healers' hands which worked between his mother's parted legs. Never had he seen her looking so frail. If she had looked ill before, she seemed paler now than the marble statues that bordered the path to their house. It was then that he realized that he couldn't feel it anymore, the comforting sparkle of warmth that bound each Elf to their parents. In its place remained only silence and a frightening cold.
Erestor could feel tears inundating his cheeks, his breathe coming out in short excruciating expirations of air. His world was spinning around him. It seemed to him that he was watching this scene from afar as though he wasn't this too pale and too thin youth that cried silently in front of his mother's death bed. For he had finally named that alien void that inhabited him. His mother's feä had left her body, flying to the unwelcoming Halls of Mandos where he wouldn't be able to see her lest he himself forsook his life or was killed.
And suddenly, his spirit rebelled against that knowledge.
She could not be dead. She had promised she would never leave him. She had held him in her arms, his head resting on her growing belly, and he had spoken the oath he had clung to, "I will always be there for you, Naneth...". Smiling she had echoed, "I will never leave you, ion-nin."
But she had lied. She was gone. All those healers could try whatever they wanted; he knew they were trying in vain. Her eyes glazed by the cold of death would never shine with warm awareness again. He was alone.
Alone.
No! That was not true. His mother never lied! Never would she lie to him and betray their oath. Never would she utter words without sense. Reason fleeing him, he shook himself from his immobility and propelled himself to his mother's side, bumping into the red-haired Elleth that held a lifeless hand and spoke words that were not heard. He grasped the arm that had once held him with strength and love and was now inert and heavy. He did not know that he was speaking senseless words as he was begging her. Silvery tears were falling on the pale skin he was kissing as though calling to her, asking her to remain at his side, asking her to stay if not for him then for the baby.
Unfriendly hands took hold of him, trying to drag him away from his mother but he fought against them as he had never fought before, as if his very life depended on it. In the end, they were stronger than he was and he could only watch how the form of the she-Elf that had given life to him moved away little by little. In vain did he stretch his arm in her direction; they inexorably and ruthlessly took him away. He was not aware of his screams of despair that resounded against the low ceiling of the infirmary. Only the perception of this unending void inside him reached him and filled him with obsession. This was not true. This could not be true.
As soon as he felt the grasp of the hands loosen, he quickly evaded them and ran away from that nightmare under the frightened gaze of the helpless healer.
Next: Not Alone
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