Angel
Prologue
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"Father? Elrond has asked me to attend a council in Imladris. I did tell you, I have to leave now." She came in, dressed in green and brown to hide in the wild. I gave her a smile, a real one that surprised her.
"Will your uncles be there?" I asked her. Of course Glorfindel and Erestor would be in Rivendell, I was just making one last conversation.
"Unless Elrond has them running errands. I think something important is going to happen soon. Something better happen or else we are going to lose Gondor." I almost laughed at the bitter irony, she was worried about Gondor. I nodded, looking thoughtful.
"I suppose representatives from Lórien and Mirkwood will be there," I said. She shrugged.
"The mountains are getting dangerous; Lórien is almost sealed up now." That told me all I needed to know, she was still not on speaking terms with Legolas.
"Did we have a visitor?" she asked suddenly. I hesitated. Yes, we had had a visitor, we still did. Locked up at the top of Orthanc, still unconscious, was Gandalf. I was not, however, going to tell her this.
"Briefly, they are gone now." She nodded. I had covered the tracks well; Gandalf's horse had gone, as had any traces of our little disagreement. It had been closely cut; she had been in the forest for most of that day.
"Navaer Father, farewell. I will be back with any news." She still had no idea, no clue as to what was going on. Her face, unmarked by everything that had happened to her, was impossible to read. She smiled but it was just a movement, as all her smiles were now. Her eyes had grown hard; they no longer laughed or went wide at simple things. They no longer cried either, not since Lapsë. Her sword hung at her side, it had seen too much use. She was too good at wielding it: she had had too much practise. That worried me slightly; maybe her skills would stand in the way of my plans. I regretted giving the order now; I wished that I could change my mind.
"There is a rumour," she said quietly. I watched as she ran a finger along the bookshelf, pausing at the one she wanted. "That something has been found." She took out the book but I could not see what it was. Surely, she could not know what Gandalf had said to me?
"Found what child?" I would miss calling her that, even though she was no longer a child.
"Just a rumour, no-one listens to rumours anymore." Her voice went higher as she turned and placed the book on the desk, keeping the title hidden. She bent down and kissed my cheek in farewell.
"Navaer Father," she said as she opened the door.
"Good-bye child, stay safe," I called after her. Faintly I heard her laugh, dry and humourless. For a moment I wanted to go after her, to tell her not to take the pass that led to the gap of Rohan, not to trust the Dunlendings. I wanted to tell her that she would not get to Rivendell, that there was someone waiting for her on the road to Imladris. I wanted to say I was sorry.
Sorry. I had never been sorry for anything but as I hurried to the window and looked down at the horse and rider leaving the ring of Isengard, I was sorry. I was sorry that I had failed her. Suddenly I saw myself as what I had become, worse than Gandalf. I had not sent her from her home; I had sent her to her death.
"Forgive me, let her live," I whispered. I turned as I felt eyes on me. Colmith was standing in the doorway, staring at me with a mixture of hate and pity in her eyes.
"Please Colmith." She shook her head, glaring at me. Then she was gone, leaving only the echo of a child's voice behind.
"Tell me a story Father, about the angels." There are no more angels child. I made them up one night in Lindon, to get an elfling to sleep. The last angel is about to fall, her own Father gave the order for her to die. There are no angels.