Chapter 2
He stood, leaning against the white wash stone of the healing wing, his arm crossed tightly across his chest. He watched the strange woman that lie on the bed, blood stained linen wrapped over most of her body, and where skin showed, it was mottled black and blue with bruises. His adoptive brother never lightly asked for favors, and yet his parting wish had been for him to save her. Who was this woman? It had been obvious the moment he saw the remainder of the fellowship bringing her into the hall that they all cared for her deeply. The pain and sadness was etched into their faces, even the dwarf.
Gandalf had not told him much; there had not been the time. He knew she left with them from Lothlorien, and traveled with them until the Nazgul on the plains of Rohan took her, where they could not pursue. She carried with her some sort of power. From the Lords of Erebor, he learned she single-handed took out the entire Easterling army, minus a few stragglers in some kind of magical ice storm. Had his grandmother known of this power? Had she knowingly let such power walk out of her realm? Then, the Lady of Lothlorien knew and saw much. She would have set the woman on whatever path she was meant to take. Of that, he was sure. He would have to trust his grandmother's instincts in this, trust that she knew what she was doing when she had her leave the Golden Wood.
Wearily, he walked closer, pulling up a chair with his one good arm. The healers in Gondor had forbidden him to remove the sling that held his left arm in place, and the old women could be quite fearsome. Gently he covered her battered hand with his own much larger one; he began whispering Elvish words of healing. He made a promise to Aragorn and he intended to keep it.
She was vaguely aware of what would go around her; she was in a sort of haze from which she could not wake up. She knew when a new day dawned, for Elladan came in speaking his healing verses. She would turn her head, try to see him, but could only make out a dull outline with a soft white background. Midday was when the dressings that cocooned her body where change, the pain was excruciating, but she found she could say or do nothing. The torment was endured in silence. Elladan's outline was now bathed in bright yellow noonday sunrays.
Sometimes he would come back and sit with her, the purple haze a twilight around him. He would speak to her of the going and coming of the city, the waiting on a knife blade for word of the army that marched on the black gate, the army that included all her friends. Sometimes he would speak of times past, mostly of his family and Aragorn. It was at these times she could feel the elf's deep sorrow. So much grief over his sister's choice, the fate of his family, his race, and of the fate of Middle-Earth that it was palpable. She wished she could offer him comfort, let him know she understood his pain, shared it with him. She willed her fingers to close around his own; she felt the pain of the effort. Evelyn did not know if her hand gripped his own, she hoped with all she had within her that it did. They would share a burden together.
It was the nights, when all the light dissipated, and the blackness encompassed her vision that she feared more than the constant pain or her uncertain future. In the deepest folds of the night is when the dreams came. At first they had been dreams that haunted her from the beginning—of her death, Boromir, of the men she had killed, all the death that surrounded her—now they were different, more vivid, more horrific than any she had had before.
She saw Mordor. Saw Mount Doom and the tower of Barad-Dur with the great eye writhed in flame, the very air around her seemed steeped in poison, and it was so thick and hot. Under the eye stood two silhouettes, barely visible to her eyes. She knew one to be Sauron, his dark beauty unmistakable, the other she could never make out. His form was less substantial; he was nothing more than a red haze, almost a part of the great eye. Shivers went down her spine as she continued to gaze upon them, unable to tear her eyes away.
Visions of the army of Gondor dead at the base of the Black Gate flashed in her mind, their bodies bloodied and strewn heedless on the blood-covered earth. She saw the villages and towns of Middle-Earth burn, being torn apart by thousands of orcs and goblins. Screams of women and children filled her ears. The grief and pity overwhelmed her heart, she wished with all her being to take their pain away.
Then, just as quickly as they came upon her, they were gone and she was surrounded once again by silent darkness. She realized quite suddenly, Arwen's fate was not the only one tied to the fate of the One Ring. Should it not be destroyed, the world as they knew would end; there would be no purpose for her here any longer. A small part of her almost wished for it, she could go back to Nienna's halls; find some shred of peace for her life. However, she knew better, such a fate would bring more pain and suffering than anyone could imagine, her peace would never come from that fate.
The night was long and deep as Elladan leaned over the balcony, his one good hand gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white. There was such stillness to the night; it made him restless and uneasy. Sleep could not claim him that night in its warm embrace, and he was not the only one. From his perch, he saw many windows with candles still flickering.
He looked back at the supine form on the feather bed. He was not his father, but he was still an accomplished healer among the elves, and though her wounds were healing and her body on the mend, he could not bring her soul back to them. She hung somewhere in between, and why he could not fathom. He knew she was there with him at times, she would squeeze his hand during his tales, or her faintly turn her head at the sound of his voice. But that was all he had been able to manage. He had failed his brother.
He hung his head, his dark hair falling around his face as he let out a large sigh. No sooner had the breath left his lips, the ground beneath his feet gave a sudden shudder, as the world seemed to turn on its axis. Stumbling away from the edge, Elladan reached the columns of the archway, gripping it fiercely as he looked out towards the land of Mordor, for from no where else could such a force come from. No sooner had he, then a bright blinding light light up the sky from the east.
A thundering roar ripped through her darkness as her mind was transported back into the fires of Mordor. The great Eye that haunted her for so many nights was dilated, swirling madly in it towering prison. It engulfed the silhouette of Sauron, devouring itself. Then, an explosion like none she had ever known ripped through the air; the vibrations shook the very foundations of the earth. She watched the tower of Barad-Dur crumble as Mount Doom erupted in a shower of molten lava, consuming the land around it. The great eye withered and died before her eyes into nothing but a speck that entered a hazy red glow and disappeared from her sight.
And in that moment she felt the haze that had fogged her mind lift, she was no longer stuck in the veil, her mind was as clear as it had ever been and she felt her eyes open wide as the world shook around her.
A/N: another pretty short chapter here, but I felt this needed to be a chapter on its own. mixed with what I have planned for the next, would not have gone together so well, and would have been extremely long and a much longer wait. But we finally made it to a turning point, the ring is destroyed, and now a new journey will begin for all of the characters. please read and review, tell me what you think of this chapter, what you would like to see happen, etc.