Chapter One:
The rain slanted in sheets, a grey line of mist that moved slowly toward him over an already grim landscape. Haldir crouched low, his hood pulled low over his eyes, to watch the oncoming storm. Apprehension had him unsettled, a frustration that was not characteristic, a regret that made him feel ill. Fingers gripped tightly to the long red bow in his hand, he closed his eyes. Instantly the horrors returned to his mind, the screams and the devastation, now hidden by the mist, blood washed away by cold and wrathful gods.
He shook his head, squinting against the rain, his cloak drenched even with the magickal qualities that enhanced it. It was time to move on, yet he could not rise, could not take his eyes from the plain below, from the bodies even if blurred by the storm, still there where his mind remembered them.
A hand on his shoulder made him sigh.
"We can do no more."
"I cannot leave," Haldir replied.
Orophin crouched beside him and leaned against his bow, fingers stained red with blood. "We have done all we can. There is nothing more to do, Haldir."
"We should have prevented this." His face felt tight, his lips drawn into a tight grimace for too long.
"They did not listen to reason," Orophin argued. His gaze passed over the plain as Haldir had just done, lips set into a thin line. "We cannot fight their battles, brother."
"They were overwhelmed in minutes. They had little chance to flee."
Orophin turned his head, blue eyes dull with pain. "They knew what was to come, yet they did not turn back. They had much courage if little sense. We told them what would happen. And indeed, Haldir, the gods themselves weep at the cost. Do not take this on your shoulders; you did what you could. As emissary, as a friend to those who did not appreciate your sage advice, you offered an option they refused. It is on their heads…"
"Which lie now in the mud," Haldir replied. Orophin was right, however. Dwelling on the misfortune below would do no good. He gripped Orophin's knee for a moment. "How many survive?"
"All told, perhaps a dozen, a few more might yet be found." Orophin rose to his feet and shifted the bow to his shoulder. "There are only two healers, we could use you."
Haldir nodded. "I will be there in a moment."
His brother returned the nod, eyes narrowed for a brief moment, but whatever he might have said he held back. Orophin touched his brow. "As you command, March Warden."
It was a reminder, of course, of his duty. Haldir allowed a smile to briefly curve his lips. The rain would fall for some time. There were men to be saved as yet, even if he could not save them all. He rose to his feet and pulled his hood lower, the fabric damp against his skin. They needed shelter. He glanced at the surrounding hills, remembering, placing landmarks. Turning away he paused but did not look back. He had tried.
It was time to move on.
Idun struggled to open her eyes but doing so caused so much pain she gave up. She couldn't move, something heavy held her down in the wet mud, the rain had soaked the ground around her so much she felt as if she was sinking. She forced back the rising panic at the thought, and once again tried to open her eyes.
It might have been easier if she could have used her hands, but both were pinned by the heavy weight on top of her, her bow caught fast as well.
She could hardly breathe, the pain from stretching her facial muscles almost too great to bear. A warmth she knew was blood seeped down her cheek. She was alive however, if nearly buried.
She needed to remain calm. Panic would not help, nor would the sense of despair aid her if she let it take hold. She would find a way to get free. She had only to concentrate on what to do.
She could wiggle her foot. Doing so brought a faint twinge of pain but nothing she couldn't handle. She could wiggle her fingers, perhaps shifting her hips might help. She caught her breath as the weight also shifted, forcing her deeper into the mud.
A voice made her pause, her breath held in both fear and anticipation. She could not make out the words, whoever it was, was as yet too far away. Idun tried to call out, but her voice cracked, her breath labored from the weight.
"Please…" She nearly cried in frustration, but warriors did not cry. She coughed and tried again. "Please, someone help me."
The effort to call out was exhausting. She felt numb, knew she should feel the cold of the mud but did not. She had nearly given up when the weight shifted above her.
"Here!" The voice was close, nearly at her side.
Idun felt relief as the weight lifted. Several hands gripped her arms and her legs to carry her gently out of the mud, placing her on something dry. She reached up, finally able to move her arms and felt them pushed back down.
"Do not move, you may have many injuries."
She blinked at the sound of the voice. It was not one of her people; the accent spoke of something else something she could not place. She tried again to lift one hand, but found her wrist caught in a firm grasp.
"I cannot open my eyes."
She felt fingers brush her cheeks. "They are already open."
Idun froze in horror. "I am blind?"
Something warm settled over her, tucked around her almost too securely. She felt trapped, distraught.
"My bow, where is my bow?"
A faint grunt responded, almost as if amused. "Here, do not worry. We will keep it for you."
Idun tossed her head, frustrated, feeling more bound by the moment. "I want it now."
She felt a hand touch her face, her brow briefly. "It will do you no good. You must relax. You are safe."
Safe? She almost laughed, the sound coming out instead as a shaky breath. They were never safe from the evils of the world. But something brushed her mind, a faint whisper of comfort, a voice in the midst of the darkness that promised light. The hand on her brow pressed down, over her eyes. The voice murmured words she could not understand, the sound a faintly musical air, lilting in a deeply-throated hum that sent shivers racing over her nerve endings. The sound crept into the darkness of her mind, fear and worry faded until she knew nothing more.
Haldir paused for a moment to take a breath, his gaze distant, his mind bent on more than the simple delving he worked on the girl. She felt frail beneath his hands as he moved them lightly over her frame. Yet he sensed a fierce well of determination that had kept her alive in the midst of such horror. Perhaps the Vala had worked their magick in her favor, burying her under the bodies of the dead so she might live.
Most would have not have survived such terrible trauma, the human mind was weak, unable to cope with such despair. Yet she had not lost the battle, her first words to him those of a warrior, ready as yet to do battle.
Haldir shifted so he could gaze at her closely. The delving had given him her injuries, except for the blindness. A blow to the head? He wondered as he gently turned her head to search for proof. Nothing marred the pale brow beneath his hands, no blood but that of the man who had lain over her. He brushed away a few strands of hair that was nearly as pale as his own, the strands more blond than his silver. Most of it was drawn into a heavy braid coiled at the back of her head, but the few long strands he brushed aside told him it was longer than his own. Her eyes had been dark however, their gaze horrified at the thought of the loss of sight. He didn't know what to do for her, perhaps the Vala had some hand in this as well. He did not know, nor did he have time to dwell on her misfortune. Too many as yet needed his aid, too many lay weary, so many the weight pressed upon him until he bowed his head in frustration.
A voice in his mind rebuked him gently, reminding him once again of his duty. Galadriel brushed aside his despair, reminding him that they lived when many did not. He would do what was needed, as he always did. The girl, Galadriel smiled in his thoughts, a radiance he could feel even leagues from his beloved Lothlórien, would be fine.
A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present.
"What can I do?" Rumil knelt beside him offering a cup of wine.
Haldir accepted the drink gratefully, swallowing a large draught , eyes closed. "Nothing more for now. She is well enough, her injuries are not life-threatening."
"We will load her onto the wagons then, if you agree," Rumil replied, his eyes already sweeping the remaining area, his thoughts on what he must do next.
Haldir rose to his feet, Rumil's grasp of his elbow welcome. "Yes, she can be moved. She will sleep for some time yet."
Rumil gripped his shoulder again, finally turning to peer at Haldir for a moment. "You must stay strong, Haldir. We will do what we can."
Haldir nodded, his brother's support more than simply a warden doing what was expected. "Indeed."
Rumil bent over the girl, lifting her easily as if she weighed nothing. "She is a pretty one, for all the blood. Hers?"
"No." A feeling swept through him as Rumil walked away. Pretty? He had not considered such things, yet had to agree, belatedly, with his brother. The feeling intensified, bringing him up short as he turned away. He blinked, startled at the sense of possession. A glance back over his shoulder met Rumil's as he settled the girl in the wagon. Rumil lifted a brow, lips curved in a knowing smile.
Haldir grimaced. His brother could sense far too much of his thoughts at times, thankfully one of few who knew his mind. The girl was not his to possess, nor should he want such a thing. He could feel respect for her determination but nothing more than that.
Walking away was harder than he expected. The desire to look once more at her nearly made him turn back but he did not, instead he moved toward two more who needed his help. He had work to do.