Haleth nods; that is a fair question, and she considers for an answer as she eats a few more bites of her stew. "He was furious with me," she says finally, certain that Caranthir's daughter will be familiar with his legendary temper. "It was the first time that had been so, but I do not blame him, for I had angered him excessively. It was not undeliberate on my part. I had decided to take my people and leave for the West, for a number of reasons, all of which he knew."
All of which Canien likely knows also, but Haleth lists them all the same. She blows on her stew, still too hot for her liking. "We were unwilling to be vassals, which would have been needful to appease others of the Firstborn--but that was the smallest part of it. His Oath already pressed him, and also the Doom of the Valar lay on him. He cared nothing for it, and in truth I would not have cared either. But my duty is to the Haladin, and them I would not risk."
Which is to say, without saying, that if it had only been a matter of Haleth and Caranthir, different choices might have been made. But it was never a matter of only Haleth and Caranthir, for she was Chieftain and he Prince, and they both had duties that could not be laid aside.
"He could respect those reasons, at least. But that I used them as a refusal of his suit also he liked not at all." Another few bites. Canien will be able to imagine how it was. Caranthir's temper is hot and black, matching his name; Haleth, even when she is angry, is cool and logical, immovable once she has set her mind on a course. "He still wished to wed me. I judged that a poor idea, living so far apart; husband and wife should share their days, not live separate. And a match between a mortal and an Eldar seemed doomed to end only in misery. He pointed out that such a doom was his predestined fate regardless, and likely that is so. But I refuse to be its instrument."
She sighs a little and shifts position. "Your story makes me wonder if perhaps I was wrong on that point, and on others. But at any rate to infuriate him enough that he would cease pressing me for an agreement I would not give, I told him that if he truly felt his duty to his own people, he would abandon his Princedom, for he could not lead well while bound by his Oath to another course."
A terrible thing to say, the more so because Haleth believes it, as he would have known; she does not speak untruths. Much as she loves and respects Caranthir--and she does, she always did--to her mind a leader must be willing and able to sacrifice all for their people, or else they cannot lead well.
She lifts the bowl to her mouth, scoops in the last few mouthfuls, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "So the last time I saw your father, he was storming away from me. I do not doubt he would have returned in a few days when his temper cooled, but by then we had left. Another insult, after his great hospitality to us. I know not if he has forgiven me or not, nor if he knows where my Haladin and I have settled. Likely he does, for Felagund keeps in touch with his kin in far-off lands. But I have had no word from him, and expect none."
And if she grieves that, if she mourns what to her was an unavoidable necessity, it shows only in her eyes. Her voice is as firm and her will as settled as it was the day she left.
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All of which Canien likely knows also, but Haleth lists them all the same. She blows on her stew, still too hot for her liking. "We were unwilling to be vassals, which would have been needful to appease others of the Firstborn--but that was the smallest part of it. His Oath already pressed him, and also the Doom of the Valar lay on him. He cared nothing for it, and in truth I would not have cared either. But my duty is to the Haladin, and them I would not risk."
Which is to say, without saying, that if it had only been a matter of Haleth and Caranthir, different choices might have been made. But it was never a matter of only Haleth and Caranthir, for she was Chieftain and he Prince, and they both had duties that could not be laid aside.
"He could respect those reasons, at least. But that I used them as a refusal of his suit also he liked not at all." Another few bites. Canien will be able to imagine how it was. Caranthir's temper is hot and black, matching his name; Haleth, even when she is angry, is cool and logical, immovable once she has set her mind on a course. "He still wished to wed me. I judged that a poor idea, living so far apart; husband and wife should share their days, not live separate. And a match between a mortal and an Eldar seemed doomed to end only in misery. He pointed out that such a doom was his predestined fate regardless, and likely that is so. But I refuse to be its instrument."
She sighs a little and shifts position. "Your story makes me wonder if perhaps I was wrong on that point, and on others. But at any rate to infuriate him enough that he would cease pressing me for an agreement I would not give, I told him that if he truly felt his duty to his own people, he would abandon his Princedom, for he could not lead well while bound by his Oath to another course."
A terrible thing to say, the more so because Haleth believes it, as he would have known; she does not speak untruths. Much as she loves and respects Caranthir--and she does, she always did--to her mind a leader must be willing and able to sacrifice all for their people, or else they cannot lead well.
She lifts the bowl to her mouth, scoops in the last few mouthfuls, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "So the last time I saw your father, he was storming away from me. I do not doubt he would have returned in a few days when his temper cooled, but by then we had left. Another insult, after his great hospitality to us. I know not if he has forgiven me or not, nor if he knows where my Haladin and I have settled. Likely he does, for Felagund keeps in touch with his kin in far-off lands. But I have had no word from him, and expect none."
And if she grieves that, if she mourns what to her was an unavoidable necessity, it shows only in her eyes. Her voice is as firm and her will as settled as it was the day she left.