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Leithian Script: Act III: 46. Scene XXXVII
The Lay of Leithian Dramatic Script Project
TINUVIEL AT BAY: A CACCIA OF BELERIAND
When will is set,
on course far-fixed, howsoever rash it be,
no Power that reigns may check,
of Earth, of under, or amid the Sea--
[The brothers, not happy, enter, still discussing from outside in the halls]
Do you think that things really are that bad as he says?
No, he's just being melodramatic again. It can hardly be more work to run than a couple of provinces, after all. And that certainly never took such full-time investment as he's claiming.
--Unless, perhaps, it does -- for him.
So what are we going to do? This is -- ridiculous. And it's not the way I wanted it at all... This stupid business with her refusing to answer to her real name now -- we didn't even tell Orodreth about that.
We could break through it if we wanted to, of course.
[Celegorm slumps down in his favorite chair]
No. It's a lost cause. Even if she would listen to me, she's so locked herself into this melodramatic pose of hers that she has to defend and believe what she says, her pride won't let her do otherwise.
[jumps up abruptly and folds his arms, scowing at the fire]
Damn! but you can tell she's Thingol's daughter, no question.
No, I don't think that's it. . . I think she's more reasonable than Elwe, when it comes down to it. All right -- say she has some mystical bond of telepathy, from her mother's side perhaps, and she really can sense Barahirion halfway across Middle-earth. Well, then -- she'll know when he's dead. All we have to do is -- wait.
What good would that do? She's being so bloody stubborn I'd not be surprised if she means to wait to the end of Arda --
[Celegorm frowns at him]
Celegorm: [delighted realization]
Oh! Right! I'd forgot all about that -- he won't be there, he can't, and she'll just have to Face Facts then, won't she? Hah! --How long do you think it will take? I don't fancy, what, another fifty years of this namecalling and moping and making outrageous Scenes--
--Fifty? You're joking. As a prisoner of the Enemy? You've seen what slavery does to the Kindred -- I'd be shocked if it was even a year. And then -- it'll be up to you to console her.
Celegorm: [residual sanity intervening]
Do you think I've really a chance? Or will I just be blamed for it?
Curufin: [shaking head]
No, once she's free of whatever bizarre mental influence such an unnatural betrothal has created, I'm sure she'll be grateful --- though she'll never admit it: she does have Elwe's pride, I grant you. She won't want anyone to remember her embarassing foray into madness, most like.
And . . . Huan?
--I still can't believe that he turned on me. He saved my life at the Sudden Flame, remember that? It's really strange that a mortal would prove more loyal than a Hound of Valinor. . .
How can he object, when she has no objections?
[pats his brother reassuringly on the shoulder]
And needless to say, with you to distract her she'll have no reason to think about it all. Tell you what -- I'm so confident I'll go ahead and start on the maquettes for the rings, hmm? Something to symbolize both Houses, the most elegant things you can imagine, and of course she'll be overwhelmed, never having seen the like here.
--Sublime, meaningful, exquisitely-crafted and staggeringly beautiful?
--You got it. Now why don't you go off for a ride while the weather's still clear and clear the cobwebs from your soul, and by the time you get back I'll have the rough drafts ready for you to look at. Sounds good?
Sounds like an excellent plan. --See you in a bit.
[He leaves. Curufin goes to the reorganized shelves and starts getting down items for sculpting, humming a simple melody as he does -- then checks, as he realizes what tune it is -- "Ten Thousand Miles", stuck in his head. He snorts, and goes on working in silence.]
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