Dwalin and the Pearl

Chapter 13

With a curse, I threw myself at Var, hoping to catch her before she hit the ground. I gathered her in my arms and set her gently in the elf's armchair, sideways, so that her head was on one armrest and her legs draped over the other. Her face was pale.

I knelt beside her and tapped her cheek, but she was limp and cold. I glared at the elf. "What have you done to her? What is tamuril?"

Poldor shook his head helplessly. "She made me! It is a powerful poison, a potion-"

Blind murderous rage shook me. I launched myself at him, ready to kill him. But I didn't. Suddenly my body stiffened. I wasn't able to take a step, or to lower the hands that were stretched out in front of me, curved in just the shape needed to wring an elven neck.

A deep, melodious voice spoke from the door. "Poldor, my friend, whatever is going on here?"

Recovering some of his elven sang-froid, Poldor bowed gracefully to the figure in the doorway. "A misunderstanding, my lord Curunir. A dreadful misunderstanding."

I couldn't see the newcomer clearly, because my body was still frozen. But out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of him.

He was tall and stately, with a cascade of white hair that fell straight from the widow's peak on his forehead down past his shoulders. A long, hooked nose sat imperiously above an impressive white beard, and his liquid dark eyes glowed with intelligence and power. He wore shimmering white robes and carried a staff topped with a crystal orb set in a crown-like cage of black iron spikes.

He looked at Var, lying limp in the armchair and frowned. "That must be Var, the daughter of Gamil. Long have I desired to speak with her. In fact, I have come here today to speak with her in private."

His gaze traveled from Var to me, still poised in an attitude of attack, and the weight of his disapproval and sadness fell on me. But his question was addressed to Poldor. "What is wrong with her? Has this-dwarf-harmed her?"

Poldor shook his head. "No. She demanded that I give her tamuril as payment for a debt of honor that I owed her family. I am sorry to say that I did as she asked. She must have been out of her senses, to seek death in such a way."

Grief suffused the noble features of the man in white. "Var. Dead. Such a waste."

The invisible bonds that held me were suddenly released, and I nearly collapsed on the floor. I dragged myself to Var's side. "No. She can't be."

I didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. I looked down at her face, the sweet soft lips, delicate eyelids closed over her bright blue eyes, the spun gold of her hair. How could she leave me, when I needed her so much? I touched her face and neck, cold with the familiar chill of death. Shock was beginning to numb my senses, making me feel cold as well.

Curunir the White was speaking to Poldor. "What reason did she give for this rash act? What did she tell you, to convince you to keep her from me?"

"No, that was not the way of it, Curunir," Poldor protested. "She refused to explain herself-and she did not have to, because I had promised to aid her without question."

"We shall see if you are speaking the truth," said Curunir, and raised one arm from the shoulder, fingers extended toward Poldor's forehead. He frowned at the elf.

Poldor gasped and writhed. The elf's eyes seemed to start out of his head, glazed with pain, and he jerked helplessly in an unseen grip. He cried out, "My lord, I have not lied to you! Please! This cannot be the way of the Istari."

Curunir's fingers wiggled and Poldor collapsed, sobbing, onto the stone flags of his study. The man in white stared down at him. "Do not presume to tell ME the way of the Istari. You are lucky, Poldor, that you have spoken naught but the truth. There have been others who have sought to deceive me. They were not wise to try."