Prompt: Falling

"There's a sight that I never weary of."

I smile and nod, happy to see the walls of our white city looming above us as we ride. Ahead, I see Ecthelion suddenly jerk in his saddle as if something struck him and I tell my companions to continue on without me. As soon as they are well past, I ride up next to him where he has stopped and is staring. Eyes wide, he is paler than normal and I shift in my saddle, hoping to gain his attention. "Captain?"

Ecthelion shakes his head. "Do you see it or is it some trick of the light?"

He has been odd ever since returning from the Nirnaeth. We were all changed, all touched, but Ecthelion... He came back fearsome and fey, and his gaze is hard to hold; it seems to penetrate the very depth of a soul. "What do you see, milord?"

Covering his eyes, Ecthelion shakes his head. "Elemmakil, truly you see nothing?"

Because he is my captain, one I would follow and one I have followed to the pit of anguish and back, I look again. I jump when he grips my shoulder.

Sorrow. I have seen such sorrow before. So many died in the Nirnaeth and we... We had to tell their families. Ecthelion would not post the lists on a wall as some did but insisted on going to each and every household. He looks now as he did then. Gaunt and grey, silver eyes haunted by the specter of horror. "Captain, what do you see?" Curse my curiosity, but I must know. If his mind is breaking... No. No!

He shakes his head again and meets my gaze. "Memory. You were but a child when we threw him from the walls." A grimace and Ecthelion rubs his eyes. "I hear his voice cursing his son, cursing us all as he falls. As he hits the rocks."

I am not sorry I have no memory of this. "Ecthelion." I lean over and grip his shoulder. It is presumptuous, but I can't stand to see him this way. "Let us go into the city. You need to rest, milord."

A wry smile quirks his mouth. "I'm not crazy, Elemmakil."

I don't answer hastily - that would only make him think I'm trying to placate him. Looking him in the eye, I answer, "No, sir. You're not. But you are tired."

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

It is an odd question. Men believe in ghosts of their dead who come back to haunt them. "If you mean the houseless, then yes."

"I doubt Eöl would go to Mandos." He nudges his horse and I fall in beside him, riding toward the city. "Perhaps that is what troubles Maeglin."

It gives me a shiver to even think about. What father would chose to be houseless so that he could plague his son? I don't answer, but his words...

His words linger with me into the dark depths of night.

A/N: Just to be clear, the houseless are those elves who die a physical death of the body, and refuse the call of Mandos. Their spirits would remain in Middle-earth, "houseless" of their bodies, and would seek to reconnect with living beings. Michael Martinez has an interesting article about it called "Did the Elves Fear Death at All?" I only mention it because some people don't know what a houseless spirit is and I've had other writers tell me there are no elvish ghosts. To me the houseless spirit of an elf qualifies, but if it bugs you, feel free to disagree.

Peace,

levade