Аннотация: Небольшая зарисовка о конной зимней прогулке лордов Маэдроса и Финдекано. Оригинальная версия
PROTECTING YOU
- Trace, - all of a sudden utters Finyo.
- Where? - I hold myself up in the saddle and look around. - I see nothing. And wh...
Finyo's face turns tense and I catch it up at once.
- Orokar?
- Yes. - He also stares forward but not quite at the snow, his gaze kind of sliding over the immaculate white surface.
I am abashed a little.
- Finyo, where it is? - without agreement we both go on talking in whisper.
- Under the snow. I can smell it.
I'm not such a good scout. Finyo is and he is already renowned in this skill. All I smell is leather and horse and fir and sometimes - when we come very close - spicy aroma of his hair, streaming to the waist free of hood.
- Rarely they dare to come so far, - says Finyo reflectively as if talking to himself though obviously he also talks to me. His face grows intense and stern.
- Can you tell how far they are? - with a habitual gesture I lay my hand on the hilt of the sword.
- I'd say the trace is rather old but snow is deceptive, it stifles smells. - Finyo starts his horse. - Let's follow a little, may be I'll get it clearer.
We ride on in silence among the sparkling beauty of winter day darkened at once by the material reminder of enemies' presence. Even our horses now tread more softly and carefully though one can't guess if it's because they feel Orks or just our tension.
We cross fields and hollows and islands of sleeping trees in the cold sea of snow - but see no other prints than those of fox and deer, and the birds are chirping gay and unworried, and the sun shines clear and high. At last Finyo pulls the reigns.
- I've lost it, - he says with a sigh. It seems to me that though he's a bit vexed it is also a sigh of relief. And speaking the truth I wouldn't welcome any loathsome Orokar spoil the ride with my otoronya. - And besides these were no doubt scouts, they move fast and at any rate are long gone by now.
- Well, can we find the nearest troop and tell them to watch it close?
- Let's try, may be we'll cross one of them.
He lightly taps his heels at his horse's sides and we continue our lazy ride - though still not quite peaceful. I don't like this feeling very much - I used to think Barad-Eithel is strongly protected and is rather far from frontier; all the few times I visited Finyo I used to find rest and almost forget about danger and war. But now it reached at me even here.
Warm hands cup my heart and tender and clear golden light trickles through stone and steel armory on my soul that grew harder with my thoughts. And, touched by this light, dark and ridged coat turns into shining and invincible crystal coat of mail. Finyo's face lightens in answer to this unseen change and his quiet smile at once warms the chilly day.
Our luck is with us - or I should say Finyo's luck - and in some half an hour we meet a watch and tell them about trace. They report that saw no fresh signs and if there were some old trace it were too effaced for them to notice. Finyo's face at last loses that hungry and intense expression like to one of a hound on a trail and the last shadow leaves his smile when he whishes good ride to the patrol.
- Aren't tired? - asks Finyo as we turn our horses and ride along the eaves of great forest. Anyone else besides otorno, toronyar and some other few I would have asked to stop playing my elder brother or just snort haughtily. But to Finyo I can only smile and shake my head.
- Not at all, my dear. And anyway, - I wink proudly, - I can't let any of the Second House be more tough that myself.
Finyo sniffs and then laughs lightly, and among pale sky, white snow and transparent air his laugh rings as never alike to a silver bell. Finyo's laugh inevitably rejoices my heart.
Grey clouds crawl over the sun and the sky though the air remains clear; great, tender like feather snowflakes float down and this quiet beauty is more touching than the sparkling lush of sunlit winter wideness.
In a few minutes Finyo's hair is strewed with ethereal jewelry which looks to its best on the sable braids. I feast my eyes upon this wonderful view so openly that Finyo soon ceases his tale about winter hunt with Arelde and gazes at me.
- What? - he asks with a little perplexed smile.
- Nothing, - I answer with mostly impenetrable and mysterious look. - Have I told you about Tyelko and two ravens?
Of course I haven't, I know. I use the trick to lead Finyo's thoughts off his question.
- Well, Tyelko went a-hunting, alone and even without Huan. He shot down a deer, but after cutting it he realized that a storm was coming and he is not sure about the way. Then he saw two ravens flying by and asked them to lead him to the nearest elven hiding place. They agreed for a part of his game. Tyelko cuts off half a deer, pulls it on the shoulders and walks after ravens. They march on for some time and come to great piles of wind-fallen wood and with mighty trees towering above and studded with raven's nests.
- The storm is too close and it's the nearest elven-hiding, - say ravens.
- I thank you, - says Tyelko, abashed and chuckling, and since he has nothing else to say or to do, he cuts a bit of meat and gives the rest to ravens, then lights a fire and spends the night well. And on the sunrise with the help of the same ravens finds his way home.
- Those black-tailed rooks, - he grumbled on coming home, - I would they could have invited me to sleep in the biggest nest - which was quite the size for an Elda.
Finyo chuckles.
- I imagine Turko climbing up with polite cursing and nestling under some wing. But I'd better keep it to myself, - sparkles he with a smile in answer to my laugh.
- And I imagine too... - he begins after a short pause and his smile turns soft and dreaming. - I wonder how beautiful white snowflakes would look upon your bright locks.
Without further words I pull off my hood and perch it on the saddle-arch. Then spread my hair over the shoulders and look at Finyo. His eyes are so intense and tender as the quiet snowfall around us.
These simple words are more dear and sweet to me that all music of Beleriand. Finyo's face is so warm and it's so warm inside me that I wonder why the snow around isn't melting...
And nevertheless I spot them first. Finyo's a scout - but I'm a watcher. And I'm the senior. I don't catch if they've been hiding from us or waiting for us - but what the difference? Without a sound I hit Losselanta's sides and rush forward...
They're few indeed - though not necessarily the same band. And they are crushed and tumbled not only in flesh but in mind too. It takes me and Losselanta five or six strokes to end with them.
I jump down to clean my sword from blood and at last turn to Finyo. He is frozen horseback in movement and his face is full of terror and shock and wonder. Not at once I realize that Finyo have never seen me so close in battle until now and moreover - he missed even one stroke! Suddenly and indomitably through this terror rises such an agonizing pain, such a deep comprehension, such a deep care, that my heart, which haven't lost it's rhythm during the fight, starts pumping unevenly and troubled. Finyo dismounts, comes to me and embraces me, and though he is a head shorter I feel as a child in parent's strong arms.
- And to think only that it was ME who promised in the deepest heart to always protect you, - his says in a quiet and tense voice, his eyes full of sorrow and pain. - Maitimo... forgive me, - he stops my lips with fingertips, - forgive me for not protecting you from this... from becoming what you are now.
And here at last I understand everything. And a great weakness and sadness and love come over me. I hug Finyo tightly.
- Finyo, don't. Let us never ever speak of guilt. Don't YOU ever speak of YOUR guilt.
Now it's my turn to press fingers to his stubborn lips and to devour his trouble and despair with wild flame of my poor heart.
Finyo kisses the palm of my hand and hugs me, hiding his face - and as if trying to hide me in his heart from all the worries of the world.
And it comes to me as a lightning that so awful and rush was my ride because I wouldn't suffer any filthy dart or sword or hand to touch my otorno, even to come close to him.
So never, indo ninya, - I say with my soul and my heart - never will my thought, my hand and my sword be so fierce and fast and fell as when I'm protecting you...